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sarcasmandships · 3 years

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honey and glass part 2 ~ spencer reid

i move to new york but i can’t seem to escape spencer reid

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

word count: 15.4k (got a bit carried away lol)

read part 1 here!

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

it’s snowing in new york.

i groan internally, resting my head in my hand as i stare out the window.

it’s half past six and most of my co-workers have already left for the night, but i’m still trying to mentally prepare myself to venture out in the cold.

“hey!” agent cole greets me as he flops into his chair at the desk next to mine, a mountain of papers in his arms.

“hey,” i mumble in response, “you’ve got a small rainforest there,” i motion with my head to the folders he has now spread across his desk.

“yeah, the bishop is laying it on me thick this week. you make one mistake in this place and its paperwork, paperwork, paperwork for a month. i need to get through this by lunchtime tomorrow.”

i pause and glance out the window again. i really hate the cold.

“i can give you a hand if you want-”

i’m about to suggest that he hand me over half of his files, but before i know it agent cole is leaping to his feet and flinging on his coat, “you are a lifesaver let me tell you that, god bless fitz for bringing you over from quantico!”

he’s scooping up the folders in his arms and dumping them onto my desk.

“oh! i meant that-”

“thanks again, really appreciate it!” agent cole cheers and before i can protest he’s already past the double glass doors and clambering into the elevator, he gives me a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him.

“no problem…” i say to myself.

i shuffle into the breakroom and put on a fresh pot of coffee, i’m going to need it. i fill up a mug and envelop my hands around it as i sit back down at my desk, the heat from the coffee warms my numb fingers enough to hold a pen between them. i make a start on agent cole’s paperwork.

it’s a few hours and many cups of bitter coffee later when agent fitz appears from his office, he’s wrapping a thick, wool, scarf around his neck when he passes my desk and pauses.

“you’re still here?”

“yeah…paperwork,” i say, pointing to the pile of folders i don’t even seem to have made a dent in.

he raises an eyebrow, “your file said you were efficient, but i didn’t think that even you had the ability to fill out paperwork on cases we haven’t even worked yet.”

i laugh nervously, “what do you mean, sir?”

“well, my role as assistant unit chief to agent bishop involves ensuring that all agents are up to date with their paperwork, so i know that all of your cases have been written up, reviewed and filed. so you either have some kind of psychic ability that allows you to predict your future cases and do their paperwork, or this isn’t yours.”

i can’t tell from his tone whether he is annoyed or amused.

“right,” i nod slowly, “see the thing is sir, agent cole had all of this paperwork to do and i offered to help him, only he thought i was offering to-”

“to take it all?”

“yes, exactly. agent fitz, sir.”

he takes a sharp intake of breath in through his nose, “i think that agent cole knew fine well what you meant.”

“what? then why would he-”

“can i give you some advice?”

“y-yes. of course, agent fitz. go ahead.”

“you’re a very nice person, but you’ve been here six months now so you don’t need to worry about making a good first impression anymore-”

“i’m not,” i say defensively, “i just wanted to help out a fellow agent, we used to do it at the bau all the time-”

he gives me a look.

“sorry for interrupting agent fitz, sir.”

“you’re not in quantico anymore honey, this is new york. so my advice to you is to stop being so nice, because i hate to be the one to break it to you but agent cole has taken advantage of your niceness big time here.”

“so your advice to me is to be mean because right now i’m too nice?”

“not mean, just firm. agent cole was given the extra paperwork as a consequence of his own actions, and because you’re too nice, you’re still at the office filling out reports while he’s relaxing at home.”

“be less nice, got it,” i nod and stare down at my hands, unable to believe that i fell for that, i’m supposed to be a profiler, “thank you, agent fitz,” i smile at him.

“just call me fitz, everyone does,” he says as he begins to unwind his scarf.

“what are you doing? you’ll freeze out there without that-”

“we’ll get through this in half the time if we split it,” he shrugs, “i’m gonna grab a coffee, do you want one?”

i jump to my feet, “it’s okay, i can get the coffee-”

“have you forgotten my advice already?”

i can feel the heat flooding to my face, “don’t be too nice, got it,” i sit back down again and twirl my pen.

“see, you’re learning,” he lifts my mug from my desk, “any cream or sugar?”

i shake my head.

he nods and moves into the breakroom.

i let out the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i’d been here sixth months, i thought i was finally fitting in. everything was different in new york, the way of working, the people, the humour. something that would’ve sent spencer into a fit of giggles back in virginia would only earn you a concerned stare here.

or maybe that was just spencer and i’s sense of humour, we got looks back in quantico too. but it was okay because i was with him. it had been six months and the promises of texts, phone calls, emails and letters had withered away.

jj was the only one i still regularly heard from, we called every week.

there was the occasional text from morgan, and garcia.

emails from hotch and rossi.

but from spencer, it was radio silence. i told myself it was because he was a technophobe, and he hated texting on that tiny little phone of his.

“the buttons are too small,” he’d complain.

yet my suggestion of him updating to a modern model was ‘out of the question’, i understood he didn’t like it, but i didn’t understand why he wouldn’t make the effort.

maybe i would’ve confronted him about it if i’d had the nerve, if i wasn’t too nice.

“there we are,” fitz says, placing a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

“thank you, agen-,” i pause, “thank you fitz.”

he smiles and takes a pile of papers from my desk as he sits in agent cole’s seat.

too nice, the words echo in my head.

if i hadn’t been so intent on being the nice, sweet, helpful new girl i could be at home by now. granted my tiny apartment wasn’t much to go back to, but it was something. i had a chance for a fresh start here and i wanted to be the girl that people liked and respected. i wanted things to be different but i’m just as spineless as i’d been in qunatico.

all honey, no glass.

“you’re leaving?”

“yeah.”

“when?”

“two weeks.”

spencer gets up from the couch and storms away from me, he stares out the window, “so you’re leaving your job in the bau - one of the most sought-after jobs in the bureau - to work for the counter terrorism division in new york?”

he almost sneers ‘counter terrorism division’ at me and i’m taken aback. the spencer in front of me isn’t the spencer that i love, i close my eyes and tell myself that he’s just being defensive. i’ve known him long enough to recognise his abandonment issues.

“why are you saying counter terrorism like that? like it’s a step down for me? because it’s not. it’s better hours, better pay-”

“cost of living is higher in new york city!”

“and my new salary will be more than enough to cover it! they’re also helping me with moving expenses, helping me find an apartment – they really want me over there, spencer,” i run a hand through my hair, “do you know what that’s like for me? to have someone want me so much that they’d pay me 20% above the standard salary-”

“so this is about money for you then?” he says bitterly.

“no! it’s about someone valuing me and what i can do. it’s about someone thinking that i’m good enough and giving me the chance to prove that to myself.”

“and what, you think that we don’t value you?”

“i didn’t say that spencer, i’m just saying that i have a chance to excel over there and be a better agent. i’m a good profiler, but i’m not a great one, even you can see that. i’ll be happier when i’m finally in an environment where i don’t need to put myself down and compare myself to everyone around me.”

“please stay,” he pleads, “can’t you stay for me? everyone is leaving or dying. please, you can’t leave me too.”

spencer reid is standing in front of me with tears in his eyes begging me not to go, and i want nothing more than to rush to him and promise that i will never abandon him. if i hadn’t already signed a binding contract, i would probably be in his arms now.

i shake my head, “i’m sorry spencer, it’s already been decided. i’m only staying these extra two weeks to give hotch a chance to find someone else, i didn’t want you to be down two agents.”

spencer clenches his fist, “i can’t believe this is really happening. jj left, and now you’re leaving too. emily hasn’t even been dead a month and-”

“you think i don’t know that? you think i just forgot that emily died? you aren’t the only one suffering here spencer! agent fitz brought up transferring to me over a year ago, i called him up about it before jj left for the state department and i was meant to go to new york weeks ago!”

i close my eyes and take a shaky breath before i can bring myself to continue.

“and then emily died. and i stayed because we were all grieving and i wanted to be close to you guys, but i can’t put my life on hold forever, i can’t expect agent bishop and agent fitz to keep the job open for me forever, it’s time for me to go.”

“why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

“because emily’s death hit you really hard and i-”

“no, before that. you said that you were planning this before jj left, why did you wait so long?”

“because after i called agent fitz i needed to do interviews and go through another round of interviews and interrogations, they’re really strict on security over there. it took weeks for me to even find out if they would grant me the security clearance required for the job, i wanted to be sure i was going before i said anything. and then jj left, and i was getting ready to go when emily needed help with doyle, and i told myself i would stay for once more case and then-”

i have to stop because there’s a lump in my throat and my body is trembling. the memories of emily’s death are still so fresh in my mind, i want to curl up under a blanket and never come out when i think about her corpse, rotting away under the ground.

“please don’t go, i need you,” he says, not even trying to disguise the way his voice cracks.

i shake my head, “no you don’t.”

he doesn’t. he has morgan, and hotch, and garcia, and rossi. and most importantly jj. i know that when he’s not crying in my arms, he’s crying in hers. i know the only nights he chooses me over her are the nights when she’s busy with will, or henry or something classified at the all-mighty state department.

“yes, i do! you’re the only one who’s there for me 100% of the time, you’re the only person i can talk to about jj-”

the only person i can talk to about jj. there we go, that’s the reason he wants me to stay. i don’t know why i’m so surprised, or why it hurts so much to hear. i should be used to it by now.

“i can’t just hang around because you need a shoulder to cry on.”

i must’ve let more venom slip into my voice than i intended because spencer’s face drops immediately.

“i-i didn’t mean that, i just meant that you’re my best friend and i don’t know what i’ll do without you.”

best friend. i can’t bring myself to respond.

“is that what it is? are you leaving because of me? do you think that i don’t appreciate you, that i just think of you as a shoulder to cry on? because i don’t think that at all-”

“spencer, you haven’t done anything wrong, i’m not leaving because of you, okay?”

that’s a lie. and i hate lying to him, but he’s so busy pacing and running his hands through his hair that he doesn’t detect the guilt plastered across my face. spencer is the primary reason for my leaving, but not in the way that he thinks.

“are you sure?” he asks frantically, “have i done something to upset you? don’t you want to be my friend anymore-”

it’s ironic how spot on he is, whilst still being utterly oblivious to my feelings for him. i’m leaving because he unknowingly devastates me every day, i’m leaving because i don’t want to be just his friend, i want to be more but that can never happen.

because he still loves jj. and i know that i can never be happy sitting on the sidelines of his tortured longing. i’m only trying to do what’s best for myself, but when i look at the pained expression on his face i can’t help but feel like a selfish bitch, i’m abandoning him when he needs me most.

“look, spencer i’m moving to new york, not australia, it’s not even that far. And we can text, and call each other and email, we can even send good old-fashioned letters if you’d prefer. this isn’t the end of the world.”

“i think i could manage a text.”

“really?”

“yeah, i won’t like it. but i’d do it for you, like i said, you’re my best friend.”

“are you okay? you look kind of zoned out” fitz asks.

i place my phone down on my desk, “yeah i’m fine. it’s just…nevermind.”

“hey, come on. you can tell me.”

“i just got a call from my friend spencer, we worked together back in quantico but he wasn’t thrilled when i moved here and we never really kept up with texting or emails. i haven’t heard his voice since i left…i was just thinking about the day i told him i was leaving,” i drum my nails against my desk, “it was so long ago now, but it hurts like it was yesterday.”

“sounds like you guys were close,” he comments carefully.

“yeah, we were.”

“so what did he want?”

“um…him and my other old colleagues, they’re planning a surprise wedding for jj. she’s my best friend, she works with them too.”

“are you gonna go?” he pauses, trying to gauge my response, “i mean you haven’t been back to virginia since you took the job.”

i nod, “i know, i didn’t even go to see emily when she came back to life,” i say, my voice mixed with bitterness and guilt.

fitz reaches over and takes my hand, “and we prevented a potential biochemical attack that week, and a bomb in the subway the week after, and a potential hijacking the week after-”

i roll my eyes lightly, “i get the point, fitz. we’re always busy saving lives, but i don’t know if that’s a good enough excuse for being such a shitty friend.”

“they work even crazier hours than us, i think they’ll understand,” he pauses, “i also think that you’re making excuses, and there’s a different reason that you don’t want to go.”

“i thought i told you not to profile me.”

“it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out there’s something going on, i’m willing to bet it’s the same reason you wanted to leave in the first place.”

i smile sadly at him, “you got me there, fitz. i’m in love with my best friend, but he’s in love with the bride, who happens to be my other best friend. only he isn’t the groom.”

i feel sick at the thought of watching spencer watch jj get married. he is exceptionally good at pretending to be happy, and i’m sure he’ll have the others fooled. but none of them know that he’s in love with her, they don’t know that his feelings evolved to anything beyond a silly, little crush.

i feel sick at the thought of watching him slap a smile on his face, and shake will’s hand, and make a toast. i don’t doubt that there will be a part of him that is happy for her; the thing about loving someone the way i love him and he loves her is that is that seeing them happy gives you this sickly, jittery, joy.

it makes your heart race and your hands tremble, and it feels almost like happiness. but its sticky and catches in your throat like honey so you can barely choke out the words to convey how fucking happy you are for them. even honey attracts flies.

“shit,” fitz says.

“yeah, shit.”

all honey, no glass.

it’s jj’s wedding.

i wanted fitz to come with me but he couldn’t get out of work, we were swamped at the moment, but he’s still insisted that i go. he drove me to the airport and practically forced me through security, and now i was standing in the kitchen of rossi’s mansion as emily refilled my wine.

i took a sip of it and smiled at her. she was the one good thing that had come out of this trip so far, i hadn’t seen her since she came back from the dead and i had been so worried she would resent me for not coming to see her sooner.

but instead she offered to pick me up from the airport and let me stay with her for the weekend, she really was a good friend. i missed my old friends, and it was nice to see everyone again. but i was already exhausted from avoiding spencer and jj hadn’t even arrived yet.

i was drinking my wine far too fast, relishing in the warm euphoria it granted me. it allows me to float through the rest of the evening, i help jj pin up her hair when her mom brings her own wedding dress for her to change into. i wipe her tears when she stares at herself in the mirror. i tell her she looks beautiful, and she really does.

i don’t speak to spencer until the ceremony is about to begin, i squeeze in next to him and mumble my hellos. he doesn’t respond and i know it’s because he’s focusing all of his energy on keeping himself together, i wrap my hand around his and squeeze it gently.

he has tears in his eyes when will and jj kiss, and so do i because i am watching him watch her and i can see his heart breaking with every micro expression. my heart aches for him because his world is falling apart in front of his eyes and he has to pretend to be happy about it.

when jj turns her head i see how widely she is grinning as she clings on to her new husband. spencer sees it too because something in him shifts and i see that sticky, artificial happiness bubble to the surface and before i know it he has dropped my hand and rushes to congratulate the happy couple.

i hang around emily and morgan for most of the night, she keeps my glass full and he doesn’t tease me about my defecting to another division. i know they know something is going on, but they don’t question me about it and i am so grateful for it.

i excuse myself from their company when i see spencer sitting slumped on the patio alone. he’s half hidden behind a pillar but i can see his feet sticking out so i shuffle over to him, my mind dizzy with wine as i take a seat beside him.

“hey.”

“are you alright?” i ask.

he nods stiffly, “fine, just tired – it’s been a busy week. how are things in new york?”

i sip my wine, “yeah not bad, just busy…” i say, my voice trails off and i mentally kick myself for failing to think of a better word, “spencer, can i ask you something?”

“yeah,” he says flatly, “why not.”

“okay…” his dulcet exterior makes me hesitate but i force myself to continue, because fitz told me to grow a backbone and i don’t know when i’ll get that chance again, “i was just wondering why you never called me, or texted, or emailed. we were best friends before i left and now you feel like a stranger to me.”

he shrugs and takes a swig of beer.

“is that all i’m gonna get? a shrug,” i scoff.

i know that he’s upset about jj, my heart is bleeding for him and i understand better than anyone how he is feeling. but even i can see that i deserve more than a shrug from him after a year of no communication.

“spencer, i know how you’re feeling but-”

“no you don’t,” he snaps.

i bite my tongue.

“i want to be here for you spencer, but i can’t do that if you’re going to be a mood-”

he titled his head to look at me, his eyes are dark and empty, “if you wanted to help me so badly then why did you leave?”

i open my mouth to speak but he raises a hand to silence me.

“you want to know why i didn’t call you?” he slurs, “because i was pissed at you, everyone was leaving and dying, and you left too. and then emily came back and everyone was acting like i was crazy for being so angry about it, and you weren’t here,” his voice splits, “i know it’s not an excuse and i’m sorry if i upset you but not having you here just hurt so bad and somehow texting and phone calls made it hurt more.”

i pause, “are you trying to say you missed me so much that you couldn’t call me?”

“like i said, its not an excuse but-”

“no, it isn’t” i spit.

i’ve never been angry at him before because any of the hurt and heartbreak he inflicted on me was unintentional. but now something is burning in the pit of my stomach because he ghosted me for the best part of the year and the best excuse, he can come up with is that it hurt him too bad.

“how do you think i felt spencer?” i hiss, “when i was all alone in another state and my best friend wouldn’t return my calls? i spent so long feeling guilty for leaving you but you weren’t alone. you still had everyone else, i was the one who was alone. you had jj and-”

his grip on his bottle tightened, “i didn’t have her, she was lying to me about emily and then even when we made up from that things were never the same…” he holds his head in his hands, “i’m trying to be happy for her but it just hurts so much…”

he wipes his eyes, “i’m sorry, i should be asking you about new york, not making you listen to the same pathetic sob story that you’ve heard a hundred time before.”

i wrap an arm around him, “spencer, trust me i know how much it hurts but…it’ll get better, okay? one day you’ll get over her, and you find some genius, scientist girlfriend who loves you back and then you won’t hurt anymore.”

“how do you know?” he croaks.

i sigh, “because you might love jj but she just isn’t right for you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone who-”

he shakes his head, “not that, you keep saying you understand, and you know hoe much it hurts – but how do you know?”

his eyes are wide and teary, and he hiccups as he stares at me. i have to look away because the blood is pounding in my ears, i feel dizzy but its not just from the wine. we’re outside in the cool air but i feel like i’m burning up and i recoil away from him.

“spencer, that’s not important-”

“yes, it is. i wanna know. i wanna know how you think you know how i feel to the extent you can give me advice-”

he’s drunk.

“and tell me its all going to be okay, but you don’t know that! because how could you know what i’m feeling-”

he’s raising his voice now.

“spencer, you need to be quiet. someone will hear you-”

“i need to know what gives you the right to tell me that i’ll find love when you don’t even know what-”

“i know what it feels like because i am in love with you!” i finally snap, the words slip out before i can stop them and i slap my hands over my mouth, “oh god…i didn’t mean to say that….”

spencer is staring at me blankly, but slowly his stoic expression begins to melt into one of pity and sympathy. i can see his brain working overtime behind his beautiful honey and glass eyes, thinking of all the different ways he can let me down easy.

he opens his mouth.

“you don’t have to say anything,” i squeak, “i didn’t mean to say that…so stupid…can we please just forget about it?” i plead.

“d-did you mean it? you love me?”

his pitiful stare burns through me and i can’t stand it. i would rather have him glare at me with pure hatred in his eyes than this agonizing brand of sympathy, it makes me feel sick. my legs are shaking, my hands are shaking, my whole body is shaking and i realise it’s because my chest is racked with sobs.

i nod, “i-i mean it,” is all i manage to choke out.

his arms are wrapped around me, and in any other circumstance i would sink into them but now my body is rigid, and his embrace is suffocating. i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe under the crushing impact of knowing that i’ve fucked up a decade of friendship in less than five seconds because i couldn’t keep my emotions under control.

“i’m so sorry, you know that i care so much about you,” he says softly, “but i just don’t see you in that way-”

“it’s fine spencer,” i sniffle, “you don’t need to tell me that, i’m already well aware of that fact,” my voice is laced with far more venom than i tend but in this moment i can’t bring myself to care.

“how long?”

i’m laughing through the tears, i don’t know why because its not funny.

“ten years, give or take.”

“oh.”

oh. that’s all i get.

they say that when a burn is bad enough it incinerates the nerve endings, so you don’t feel any pain. a burst of excruciating agony and then nothingness. that’s how i feel, i’ve spent years wallowing in my own heartbreak and now that i’ve told him the truth, i just feel numb.

my sticky, sweet exterior is melting away with every passing second and pitiful glance and i don’t think i want to see what’s underneath. i push spencer’s arms off my body, and he doesn’t protest.

i sneak through the double glass doors and into the kitchen, that’s where the wine is. it warms my throat and my stomach, proving some solace from the deep-seated chill i feel in my bones.

the lights of the kitchen reflect off the glass so much that i can’t see past the glare to tell if spencer is still there. i shuffle towards the doors and press my forehead against the cool glass. spencer is gone but i like the way the window feels against my skin.

its smooth, and hard, and cold.

when your world has fallen apart, anything can be a source of comfort. and i don’t have anything left to give, so i close my eyes and rest against the chilled surface.

no honey, all glass.

the office is swarming with new recruits, they’ve descended on us like plagues of locusts and i am not in the mood for it. they’re eager and naïve as they attentively takes note of agent bishop’s words.

“…now I don’t want you to think that counter terrorism is all like what you see in the movies,” he drawls, “its not all action and defusing bombs, its patience and paperwork, careful observation and analysis – it takes more discipline to work in this division than any other in the bureau. its hard work, but it’s worth it as agents tell you,” he says, indicating towards fitz and myself.

he gives them a determined nod, i muster up a half-hearted shrug from my position leaning against the filing cabinet in the corner. i’m really not in the mood.

bishop’s phone chimes and his brow furrows ash his eyes scan the screen, “it is also unpredictable at times, so you’ll have to excuse me. but i leave you in the capable hands of my two right hand agents, they’ll be more than happy to lead the rest of the seminar,” he gives us both a quick nod before he darts out of the room.

fitz moves to the center of the room, “well, agent bishop had pretty much covered the lecture section of the session. next we are going to move onto some basic training scenarios, i will outline a situation and if you think have a strategy just shout it out, how does that sound?”

he is talking to the trainees but looking at me, he fidgets with his collar. he’s nervous, and he’s waiting for me to give him some reassurance. i force the corners of my lips to curl upwards, and it seems to give him enough confidence to continue.

he uses the remote to change the slides on the projector screen behind him and begins to list scenarios. the newbies are falling over themselves to catch his attention long enough for him to call on them. their enthusiasm and passion should inspire me, but it makes something in my stomach twist and there’s sharp anger burning through my body.

they’re all so fucking happy. so eager to see what their years at the bureau will bring them. all i got was heartbreak and rejection, but i don’t think agent bishop would appreciate me saying that so i keep my lips tightly pressed together.

“…and then i would diffuse the bomb and-”

“you would what?” i say.

the recruit shrinks back slightly when he feels my unwavering gaze shift to him.

“the scenario agent fitz gave us involved an explosive device, so my strategy would be to diffuse the-”

“that’s what the bomb squad is for, your job is to prevent the threat before it can occur, not to play around snipping wires!”

“i worked explosive ordinance disposal in the army, i would know what i was doing-”

“you aren’t in the army anymore,” i snap, “you’re in the fbi now, and we don’t have our agents running around like headless chickens during an active terrorist threat because we have rules and when you don’t follow the, people get hurt!”

“but what if the bomb squad can’t get there? surely if he has experience-” the girl next to him tries to defend him but i hold up a hand to silence her.

i laugh sarcastically, “okay. let me tell you what, next time we have a terrorism threat involving explosives i’ll tell the bomb squad that we don’t need them because i have two rookie agents who want to do things their own way. anything you’d like me to tell your families after you blow yourselves up, likely taking dozens of civilians with you?”

when they don’t answer me i give a smug smirk, “that’s what i thought,” i look over to fitz and nod, “you’ll have to excuse me, they’ve rotted my brain enough for one day,” i say before sweeping out of the room.

“why is she so mean?” the female recruit asks when she thinks i’m out of earshot.

i can feel agent fitz hesitate and i don’t blame him. i wouldn’t know how to explain to a group of trainees that i’ve been a complete bitch today because i’m bitter and heartbroken.

“she isn’t mean,” he says slowly, “she’s hard on you because she wants you to learn; its life and death out in the field and you need to be ready for anything. there’s no time for niceness and if you’re expecting that, then you’re probably in the wrong job.”

i appreciate his lie.

he makes me sound noble.

the trainees nod at his words, their eyes wide as they feed into the seamless bullshit. the stoic and honorable agent makes a better story than the resentful shrew.

i don’t want to be this way. but spencer’s words echo in my head and the breath is knocked out of me every time i picture his face, i feel like i’m drowning. it’s a dull, crushing ache across my body, weighing my limbs down like there’s lead in my veins.

i want to be honey; golden and sweet but i’m all angles and sharp edges. i’ve broken like glass and it’s only a matter of time before i draw blood. it’s easy to push people away when they’re scared of getting cut.

“are you okay?”

i jump as agent fitz creeps up behind me.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you. but you haven’t been yourself and i just wanted to check-”

“are you scared of blood?” i ask.

“what?”

“blood. does it freak you out? make you feel faint?”

“no, i’m not scared of blood,” he says hesitantly.

i smile and for the first time in forever it doesn’t feel forced, “good.”

no honey, all glass.

it’s agent bishop’s retirement party.

i stand next to fitz, we’re in a circle with some of the other agents. i glug my wine as they converse, its dark and bitter and red.

“so, agent, you used to be a profiler down in quantico, didn’t you?” someone asks.

i swallow my wine, “yes, i was. that was a while ago now though.”

“do you miss it?”

i smile fondly, “every day.”

“isn’t profiling just pseudoscience?” someone snorts.

before i can even open my mouth to respond, fitz interjects, “actually the bau is one of the most successful departments in the bureau, they are responsible for saving hundreds of lives and allowing families to seek the justice they deserve.”

i nod appreciatively at him, “behavioural science isn’t empirical but more often than not we are right, like agent fitz said, we -they- are one of the most successful departments in the bureau,” i say, trying to fight the smirk creeping across my face.

“how does profiling work, can you really catch someone based on the method of killing they chose?” someone gushes.

“yes, we can tell a lot from victimology, signatures, cause of death – it’s usually symbolic in some way of their motivation for killing, or metaphorical for a message that they want to send, you’d be surprised how much we can learn from details like that.”

“interesting!”

“oh, that’s cool.”

“i didn’t know you guys did stuff like that, i might need to put in for a transfer!”

everyone laughs.

i give a half-hearted chuckle. all of my stories and experiences at the bau are tainted by him, i can’t even make light conversation at a party without my body turning numb. every memory chips away at my heart, and it’s growing more and more hollow with every beat.

“i think you need another drink,” fitz whispers in my ear.

i allow him to take my hand and lead me into the kitchen, he tops up my wine, filling it more than he probably should. but i appreciate him for it, i think he can tell i need it.

“are you okay? you clammed up right after you finished talking about your time at the bau.”

“i’ve told you before, don’t profile me,” i say, my voice sharper than i intend it to be.

“i’m not. i’ve just noticed than whenever you talk about your old job you get this look in your eyes, and you go all quiet and snap at everyone for the rest of the day.”

i drink a quarter of my wine in one gulp.

“this is still about him isn’t it?”

i shrug, “i thought i’d be over him by now but…” my eyes start to prickle and i have to console myself with another mouthful of wine.

“but?” he prompts.

“you know how jj and i call each other every week.”

“yeah.”

“well this week she told me that the rest of the team are starting to suspect spencer is…seeing someone. i don’t know the whole story, jj didn’t either. but apparently he’s been acting weird and making all these phone calls and i-”

i have to stop. i bite the inside of my cheek. he got over jj and i didn’t even know. i wasn’t even there, maybe if i hadn’t left…it hurt too much to consider the possibilities. and now there’s another woman that i don’t know anything about, at least when he was in love with jj i knew what aspects of myself to compare to her. now i’m jealous of a woman i’ve never even met.

“do you want to talk about it?” he offers kindly.

i shake my head.

“…can i ask you something else?”

“shoot.”

he looks over his shoulder and i can see his jugular vein pulse in his neck, he’s nervous.

“earlier, when you were talking about how killers leave symbolic or metaphorical clues that helps you figure out their motivation….”

i motion for him to continue.

“is that true for normal people too?”

“what do you mean?”

he runs a hand through his hair, “say you have a friend, and they as you a weird question, but it’s so out of the blue you it can’t be literal, that there has to be a deeper meaning behind it. if their question is symbolic for something else, could that indicate what their intentions are?”

he avoids eye contact with me.

“what’s this about?”

“n-nothing, nevermind. it was a stupid question anyways…” he mumbles, grabbing his beer and shuffling past me.

“fitz, come back!” i call after him, “fitz!”

he’s already gone. and i don’t have the energy to go after him. i huff and lean back against the counter, swirling around the wine in my glass before i raise it to my lips.

my hand slips, and the wine glass tumbles to the ground before shattering against the white kitchen tiles.

“fuck!”

i rake around a couple of drawers, searching for a dish towel to mop up the mess. eventually i find one and bend down to clean up the wine; the red is stark, splattered against the shiny white background.

it looks like...

“are you scared of blood?”

the words of my own cryptic question echo in my head and something clicks.

fitz.

i use a towel to scoop up the shards of glass and absorb the wine, i toss it in the sink and dash out of the kitchen in search of fitz. i spot the back of his head through a window and follow him out to the balcony, its lit by twinkly fairy lights.

“why are you out here? it’s cold,” i say, my teeth chattering slightly as i fold my arms across my chest.

i linger by the door, hoping to cling onto some of the warmth radiating outwards. but when fitz doesn’t answer, or even look up i huff and close the door behind me, shuffling over to him.

“were you asking me that stuff about metaphors and symbolism because of what i said to you about blood?”

he looks up at me but still doesn’t speak.

“fitz that was months ago, and i didn’t even mean anything by it so i don’t know why you’re reading so far into it,” i shiver, “can you just tell me what’s going on with you so we can go back inside?”

“what’s wrong with me,” he snorts.

“yes, because you’re acting really weird-”

“i’m not the one who is acting weird, ever since you came back from your friend’s wedding you’ve been like a totally different person, and then you ask me if i’m scared of blood out of fucking nowhere. what am i supposed to make of that?”

i’m taken aback from his sudden outburst, fitz is usually calm and good natured, “why are you yelling?” i snap.

“because i don’t know what else to do, i’ve tried to be a supportive friend but you’re acting totally out of character, the new recruits call you medusa because you’re so harsh on them. if this has something to do with spen-”

“i said i don’t want to talk about him!”

“well i’m not giving you the choice anymore, i’m sorry if you’re heartbroken over him, but you’re killing yourself trying to love him. do you think i don’t notice how exhausted you are? you’re working at least 30 extra hours a week and i can only assume that’s some kind of coping mechanism, and now i’m worried you’re hurting yourself-”

i squint at him, “you think that’s what i meant when i asked you about the blood?”

he nods, “well, yeah. i didn’t think you were killing people but you’re obviously angry and sad and i figured you might have needed an outlet for that-”

“yeah, i do, it’s called kickboxing fitz! i beat the shit out of a punchbag three times a week, the blood thing was…” i groan and sit down on the bench, “you’re right, i did change after jj’s wedding because i was scared of feeling hurt like that again so i thought if i toughened up and stopped being so nice and sweet then people wouldn’t be able to hurt me anymore, but…”

“but?”

“but then i realised that by being so sharp and harsh all the time then people wouldn’t want to be around me and i would be hurt all over again, and i just thought that if i made sure you would always stand by me then i’d be okay.”

he looks up, his eyebrows slightly less furrowed than before, “so, the blood thing was a metaphor for me always being on your side? cos’ if it is you don’t even have to worry about that, of course i’ll-”

i throw my arms around him and he squeezes me tightly in return, burying my face in his chest i blink back tears because the reassurance from my new best friend lifts a weight from my shoulders. but it’s a bittersweet feeling because i know he accepts it, but he doesn’t understand it; with spencer i never would’ve had to explain my enigmatic words.

with spencer i never even would’ve had to say them because he would just know. fitz is great and we make such an efficient team because we move in tandem like magnets; i move, he moves, but we’re always one behind the other. with spencer we were in sync like planets circling the sun, pulled together by an intangible force strong enough to construct a universe. at least that’s how it felt.

with spencer, we were in sync until we weren’t.

no honey, all glass.

i know that spencer and i are out of sync because when he comes to the city to deliver a guest lecture at nyu, he doesn’t even tell me.

fitz does.

he brings it up to me hesitantly after a meeting one day. since agent bishop retired, he is the new head of the counter terrorism division, and i’ve been promoted to his old job. we have tactical meetings every week with the heads of the three field offices in the state of new york to discuss any potential threat.

this week’s meeting was particularly taxing so when everyone leaves the conference room i just want to go for my lunch break, but fitz stops me to ask if i was aware spencer was in the city.

“no,” i say through gritted teeth, “i wasn’t, how do you know?”

he busies himself with some files, “i’ve been monitoring the movements of all agents coing in and out of the city-”

“why? do you think somethings wrong?”

he hesitates and loosens his tie, “i don’t know yet…i’m working on it, but i noticed that dr reid had a scheduled visit.”

“oh,” i say and try to force myself to wait an acceptable amount of time before questioning, “what’s he here for?”

my voice comes out dry and croaky despite my best efforts to appear unbothered, fitz ignores it and carries on as though nothing had happened.

“he’s giving a guest lecture to a criminology class at nyu, something about profiling…i don’t know,” he looks at his watch, “if you left now you could make it in time, professor van der woodson is a friend of mine, show her your creds and she’d let you sit in.”

i’m pulling on my coat before fitz has finished speaking, “wait…we have that meeting with that financial analyst today, he said he’d found a suspicious pattern of payments that could indicate a-”

fitz waves me off, “i got it, you go.”

i smile at him appreciatively before grabbing my bag and dashing out the door. it’s pouring with rain and it takes me forever to hail a cab, i sit in the back seat wringing out my hair with my scarf as we wait behind an immovable wall of traffic.

the cab crawls along the grid locked streets as i check my watch every two seconds, time is moving at half speed. by the time the driver pulls up outside by by the time the driver pulls ups at nyu i’m sure spencer’s lecture will already be over. i huff and trudge inside the building anyway, i’m chilled to the bone as i a buy myself a coffee from the cafe and find an empty seat to perch on.

i drum my fingers against the table as i sip the scorching hot coffee, i don’t really know what i’m expecting to happen. i haven’t seen or spoken to spencer since jj’s wedding, and at whisper of him being in the city i’ve spent the best part of an hour in the back of a taxi to see him. now that i’m here, i’m not sure that i want to see him.

classes are beginning to finish and the entrance hall floods with students, the volume level increases tenfold and i don’t want to be here anymore. i grab my coffee in my hand and make my way back to the front entrance when i hear a familiar voice call my name. i turn my head and i see him, he raises an eyebrow at me and begins fighting his way through the sea of students.

i freeze.

he’s getting closer with every second.

i don’t want to be here.

i don’t want to do this.

i don’t want to see him.

i turn on my heel and i powerwalk, the front door his jammed with students and if i take that route i’ll get suck and he’ll catch up to me. i spy a doorway to my left and dart towards it, breathing in a sigh of relief when i push through it and find an abandoned corridor.

“wait!”

spencer is still in pursuit. i groan but pause in my tracks as i turn around to face him.

“are you running away from me?”

i fold my arms over my chest, “no.”

“really? because that’s what it looked like.”

“i’ve told you before to wear your glasses, if you don’t then-”

“i’m wearing contacts,” he says softly as he takes a step towards me, “i can see perfectly clearly and you’re running away.”

he reaches out an arm to touch my shoulder but i flinch away, he look of hurt that spreads across his face would be enough to break my heart if he hadn’t already shattered it.

he swallows and pulls on the cuffs of his blazer, i can tell that i’ve upset him but i don’t have the words to console him. this had been a horrible mistake. i’d dreamt of seeing him again every night since the wedding, i ran over and over again in my head what i would say and do. i never imagined that i’d be soaked to the skin and standing in front of him in a corridor lit by flickering, fluorescent lights.

“okay, so i ran away, so what?”

spencer shakes his head, “do i really make you that uncomfortable? your body language is closed off, you keep looking at the door and tapping your foot…you really don’t want to see me…so why are you here?”

i have to look away from him, “i made a mistake coming here, i don’t want to see you.”

“is this about what happened at jj’s wed-”

i hold up a hand to cut him off, “please don’t,” i screw my eyes shut, “i’ve had to relive that moment enough in my nightmares, i don’t want to do it again for real.”

“i’m sorry, i never wanted go hurt you. i just don’t fee-”

“you don’t feel that way, i get it spencer. its fine,” i look at my watch, “there’s a meeting that i really should be at…i’m sorry spencer this was a mistake, please can we just forget about this-”

“do you still love me?” he asks quietly.

i laugh.

“what’s so funny?”

“well, it isn’t funny i suppose,” i say bitterly, “it just makes me laugh that you think i could ever stop.”

“so…that’s a yes?”

“of course it’s a yes!” i look at my feet as i speak because i don’t want to see whatever pitiful look he’s giving me, “you’re my first love spencer reid, i’m always going to love you.”

i take a shaky breath and look up to the ceiling, trying to hold back my tears.

he stares at me sadly, and i know i’ve really fucked things up between us when even dr spencer reid can’t think of something to say. there’s a stagnant awkwardness and i want nothing more than to be hiding under my duvet, but this might be my only chance to get everything off my chest.

“i will always love you spencer, but i’m not in love with you anymore.”

“there’s a difference?” he says with a hint of ice in his voice that makes me flinch.

“of course there is, i love you but it’s not the same suffocating and overwhelming love i felt for you years ago. i love you but i don’t want to burst into tears whenever i see you glance at jj. i love you but i’m free from hating myself and wondering why i could never be good enough for you,” i don’t even try to hide the tears now, “spencer i used to love you so much that i couldn’t breathe, but now i can breathe on my own.”

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, “i didn’t know…i didn’t know i made you feel that way, if i had then i’d have-”

“you wouldn’t have done anything spencer because you didn’t feel the same, and that’s okay. you would’ve just avoided me and given me the same pitiful look you’re giving me right now which i can’t fucking stand.”

i sniffle and run a hand through my hair, “i wanted to be there for you spencer, i thought you deserved someone that loves you like you love jj, and you still do. but i can’t be that person anymore, i love you spencer but you aren’t healthy for me.”

“i never asked you to do that for me.”

“not in so many words, but when you would show up at my apartment crying over jj or emily or tobias hankel or your mother…it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you needed someone, and i loved you so much i was willing to put your needs above my own.”

he looks at his feet.

“i don’t blame you for that spencer, i didn’t value myself very much back then and i thought that loving you was the most important job in the world,” i tug at the sleeves of my sweater, “but now i know that loving myself is the only thing that matters.”

he doesn’t say anything, he just shuffles towards and me envelops my body in a gentle embrace. i’m crying into his chest and judging by his sniffles and shaky breaths, he’s crying too. he holds me tentatively like he he’s scared i’ll shatter in his arms if he squeezes too tight.

i realise he still sees me as fragile and brittle.

no honey, all glass.

i’m finally beginning to feel like my life is coming together.

today felt like a good day.

i woke up before my alarm, had time to make myself a decent breakfast, and didn’t have to sprint to catch the subway. i got to work early and the coffee machine i had ordered had arrived, i made myself a cup of steaming coffee as i relaxed behind my desk and checked my emails. i had a light day ahead of me and thankfully no meetings.

today felt like a good day until fitz burst into my office as half past eight and slammed the door behind him.

i leapt to my feet, immediately expecting the worst, “what’s going on? is there a bomb? hijacking? what is it?”

he waves me off, “no, nothing like that,” his eyes dart between me and windows that look out over the rest of the office, he pulls down the blinds and shuffles over to my desk, “do you remember a few months ago i said that i had been monitoring the movements of agents in and out of the city?”

“how could i forget?” i say bitterly as i am reminded of the painful encounter i had with spencer, “what does that have to do with anything?”

he swallows and sits down in the chair across from my desk, “i noticed that a few of our confidential code names for active and inactive investigations were cropping up in a few of the internet servers that we monitor, so-”

“so, you were tracking the movement of agents because you suspect a mole,” i finish for him.

he nods, “at first they were names of investigations that were well known within the bureau or easy to access with a low security clearance, so it could’ve been anyone, but i’ve been supplying different code names for made up investigations to different divisions across the bureau….”

“and you’ve seen those names continuing to appear in the servers,” i run my hand through my hair, “fuck, this is bad. does internal affairs know?”

he rests his head in his hands, “it’s worse than bad, because i kept a record of which names i gave to which departments because they were all unique, and the names that came up in the servers were only given to our division.”

my heart skips a beat. he was right, this was worse than just bad. this could be catastrophic, other departments in the bureau could gain access to some of our more low-level investigations. but only members of the counter terrorist division had access to the most potent and prolific threats, if we had a mole in our department then we could be looking at disaster of epic proportions.

i collapse into my own chair, “d-do you have any idea who it is?”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve been nagging the director about it for months but i never got a proper response until this morning, he’s sending a team to conduct an internal investigation…” he looks up at me, his eyes filled with worry and pity.

i realise what he is too afraid to say.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“i’m sorry, i thought they would just send someone from internal affairs, but the director feels that for someone to infiltrate our department then they must be highly trained and-”

“its fine, i get it, catching the mole is the most important thing right now,” i drum my nails against my desk, “that doesn’t mean i’m overjoyed at the thought of my old team crawling about the place and questioning our every decision.”

fitz reaches across my desk and squeezes my hand, “it’ll be okay, they’ll clear you right away and then you can get on with work, you don’t have to spend anymore time with them than necessary.”

“you mean anymore time with him than necessary,” i gulp my coffee and i don’t even flinch when it burns my throat, “when are they arriving?”

“an hour or so, they’re already on their way here and it’s a short flight,” he sighs, “it will just depend on how much traffic they hit on their way over, but we’re-”

“close to the airport, i know,” i bite my lip, “what do we tell everyone, they’re gonna start arriving soon,” i say, pulling up my sleeve to look at my watch.

its nearer nine now, and the office will start filling up soon with agents ready to start their day. there’s over a hundred agents in the counter terrorism division alone, and one of the is a traitor.

“director says we have to continue as normal until the bau team get here and they’ll decide the best course of action to take-”

i grip the edge of my desk, “so we just let them waltz in here and take over? those are our people down there, they don’t know them-”

“hey, its gonna be okay. you trust these guys, don’t you?”

i nod.

“so they’re going to find out who the mole is, and they’re not going to arrest anyone who isn’t guilty, they’re good at what they do.”

i let out a deep breath, “i know, i know. its just…i’ve been apart of these interrogations before, they ask you about everything and anything and analyze your every movement and micro expression, they’re going to question every decision we have ever made, professionally and personally. this is going to be an exhausting day,” i groan.

today felt like such a good day when i woke up, and now i was facing a waking nightmare.

fitz had gone back to his own office, like he said we needed to act like it was business as usual until the bau arrived. i had rolled my blinds back up and kept an anxious eye on the double glass doors that served as a main entrance to the bullpen.

i’d had an hour to try and prepare myself, to slow my heart rate and pull myself together enough to deal with my team of ex coworkers flying in to pick apart my department.

despite the hour i had to prepare myself, my legs turn to jelly when i see the elevator doors glide open and agent hotchner step out. fitz taps on my window as he passes my office on his way to greet them and i begrudgingly follow him out.

“agent hotchner,” he says, reaching out his hand, “thank you very much for coming on such short notice.”

hotch is stony faced as ever and gives him a brisk nod, “of course, have you told any of your agents about the situation?”

“just me,” i say, “no one else knows, but your presence here won’t go unnoticed for long,” i motion back through the double glass doors where some of the agents are already beginning to strain their necks to see who fitz and i are talking to.

“we brought our technical analyst, penelope garcia along, we might need access to computers and phones. do you have somewhere she can set up?”

fitz nods, “the conference room is just next to my office, you’ll have plenty of space and privacy in there for you all, i’ll show you the uo now if you’d like to follow me,” he says, motioning towards the door.

hotch nods, he and the rest of the team follow fitz through the bullpen and into the conference room. they mumble their hellos to me as they pass me but i know they can tell from my tightly folded arms and clenched jaw that i don’t want them here.

i tag along after them, behind a woman with dark hair that i don’t recognize, after i introduce myself she identifies herself as a dr alex blake.

“so you used to work with the bau?” she asks as we make our way up to the conference room, “hotch said you were a good agent, it’s nice to get the chance to meet you.”

i nod, “yeah, i transferred here a few years ago, it’s nice…to see everyone again,” i force a smile as i hold the door open for her.

“oh, thank you.”

i glance out the bullpen and see dozens of confused faces staring back at me. i close the door. the team have already settled themselves around the table, hotch, rossi, morgan, garcia, jj, blake and finally spencer. i avoid eye contact with him.

“so what are you going to tell people?” fitz asks, “surely if you announce that you think there’s a mole then whoever it is will just run?”

morgan nods gravely, “that is a concern, can you account that all of your agents arrived this morning?”

“lopez and mccall are out on assignment,” i say, “everyone else is here, either at their desks or somewhere on the floor.”

“any concerns about lopez and mccall?” hotch asks, “reprimands, hr complaints-”

“i know what to look for,” i say icily, “and no. they’re both stand up agents, they’ve saved both of our lives countless times,” i motion between fitz and i.

he nods, “she’s right. i’ve suspected a mole for months, so i’ve only been putting the agents i’d trust with my life out on assignment.”

hotch nods and makes some notes on the papers he is holding, “okay that’s good enough for me, like you said it is a concern that revealing our true purpose here could cause our mole to panic and we don’t want him to hurt himself or any of your agents.”

right, because a shoot out would just be the cherry on top of my day.

“our plan is to say that we have evidence to suggest the mole is in a different department, but the interviews we are carrying out here are just formality, we’ll ask inconspicuous questions and rely on behavioural cues,” morgan explains.

i raise an eyebrow, “and you really think that’ll work?”

“it has to,” jj whispers.

“okay,” i say, “i assume you’re going to want to interrogate fitz and i as well?”

“interview, not interrogate,” rossi says, “i will talk with agent fitz and dr blake will interview you…we felt that would be best since you never met during your time with us, that way there will be no bias or-”

“okay, i get the point. my office is next door, dr blake is welcome in there whenever she is ready to conduct our interview.”

before anyone can object i’ve already swept out of the room, into my office and slammed my door behind me. i’m sure they can hear it bang in the conference room. i know they’re just trying to do their job, and i feel pretty sure that they don’t suspect me. but i’m not in the mood to have my life picked apart by a profiler, especially one i don’t know.

it’s a few hours later when dr blake knocks on my door, when she comes in i motion for her to take a seat across from me. i offer her a cup of coffee but she politely refuses.

“no thank you, i don’t think this will take very long and i have quite a few interviews left after you….”

“of course,” i say, “i’m ready whenever you are.”

blake nods and presses the audio record button on her phone, “i already have the basics, your name, age et cetera confirmed by agent hotchner and fitz, so i just have a couple of quick questions. when did you transfer to the counter terrorism division?”

“three years ago.”

“and how long have you been in your role as assistant unit chief to agent fitz?”

“about a year and a half, he took over as unit chief when agent bishop retired and i was promoted to his previous role.”

blake nods, “okay, excellent. why did you choose to transfer from the bau to the counter terrorism division?”

i don’t think there are enough hours in the day to explain that properly, is what i want to say to dr blake. i left because of a bitter concoction of unrequited love and self-hatred, is what i want to say to dr blake. but instead i force a smile.

“i had been with the bau for a very long time and i felt it was time for a change of pace, i-”

the door swings open, cutting me off mid-sentence. i’m ready snap at whichever one of my agents is stupid enough to interrupt, but when i look up all i see are the cold and hard eyes of spencer reid staring back at me.

“reid, is there a problem?” blake asks.

“no, i was just hoping to sit in on this interview,” he says, never breaking eye contact with me.

“oh, spencer i don’t think that’s appropriate, you two were friends-”

“it’s fine he can stay. pull up a chair, reid.”

“i’ll stand.”

“fine.”

i’m grateful when dr blake doesn’t comment on the obvious tension between us. spencer sulks over to my desk, he stands slightly behind blake and leans against the wall. his arms are folded tight across his body, his jaw is clenches, his brows are furrowed; it’s like looking at myself in the mirror.

spencer reid doesn’t want to be here either.

“right,” blake says slowly, “you were just telling me why you transferred to the counter terrorism division, please continue.”

i tear my gaze away from spencer, “yes, of course. like i was saying i felt i had been with the bau so long and i just wanted a change of scenery, when agent fitz offered me the job i thought it would be a perfect opportunity to go somewhere i could really thrive and make a difference.”

spencer makes a face and i ignore him.

blake smiles and nods, “well it sounds like you’ve done just that, agent fitz speaks very highly of you.”

“what’s your relationship with agent fitz?” spencer interjects.

“dr reid, i think it would be best if i ask the-”

“he’s my boss, and he’s my friend. probably my closest friend here.”

“hmm.”

“what?”

spencer shrugs, “some of the other agents i’ve interviewed reported that you two have a very close relationship, and he offered you this job before he was unit chief. hiring agents wasn’t part of his job description.”

“this supposed to be an interview, none of those were questions.”

“i guess i’m just wondering why he offered you this job in the first place, and why he chose to promote you to assistant unit chief when there are dozens of other agents in this office who have been here longer than you.”

“maybe you should be asking agent fitz those questions, not me.”

“oh i intent to.”

“do you really think i’m the mole?” i spit.

“i don’t know, but jj says you’ve been dodging her calls, not answering her texts…and i know from experience how much you hate that. not to mention you just lied straight to dr blake’s face, so i’d say you’re not looking as innocent as hotch and fitz think you are.”

“what is he talking about?”

the anger is burning through my bloodstream. the bitter and cold spencer reid standing in front of me is not the man i left in virgina all those years ago. he’s not even the same man i met at nyu even a few months ago, something about him is different.

“i think he’s referring to when i told you that i transferred because i wanted a change of scene, spencer has always believed there is a bigger conspiracy behind why i left.”

he snorts.

“something funny?”

“well it’s only a conspiracy if it’s not true.”

“that is the truth,” i say though gritted teeth, my nails dig into the palms of my hands as i clench my fists.

“part of it maybe, why don’t you tell dr blake why you really left?”

“spencer, i think that’s enough. i knew this wouldn’t be appropriate-”

“what happened to you spencer? you’re acting like a totally different person, refusing to sit down, snapping at me, speaking to me like i’m an unsub – you’ve changed.”

“maybe i’m taking after you,” he shrugs, “jj says that you’re different too now, she says you’re irritable and-”

i laugh, “she said that? do you two have little catch-ups where you can discuss how rude and bitchy i am now?”

“i’m sure they don’t-” dr blake begins.

“no, we do. jj doesn’t like it when you don’t call her back, she was upset-”

“right, because everything comes back to jj with you doesn’t it.”

he pauses and i see a hint of emotion flash through his eyes, i’ve touched a nerve there.

“not anymore,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“right, you’re not in love with her anymore, she mentioned you had a new girlfriend.”

blake’s eyes flicker between reid and i, “we really should get back on track-”

“yeah, not anymore with that either.”

i roll my eyes, “spencer, i don’t care about your relationship status anymore. i know you remember what i said to you at nyu, so i know that you know i don’t feel that way about you anymore,” i don’t even care the blake is in the room with us anymore, “i’m not in love with you, so if you’re trying to make me jealous with your little girlfriend in the hopes that i’ll get upset and reveal something then you’re barking up the wrong tree, i’m not the mole. i don’t have anything to hide.”

“i’m not trying to make you jealous,” he croaks, “even if i wanted to i couldn’t, because she’s dead.”

oh. so that’s why he was acting so out of character.

“what happened?”

“stalker, shot herself and maeve right in front of me.”

maeve. what a pretty name, the mystery woman i’d been so desperate to know about when jj first mentioned her on the phone. that was so long ago now, i hadn’t felt jealous of her in a long time. i was grateful for that, i didn’t want to be jealous of a dead woman.

i hadn’t lied to spencer when i said i wasn’t in love with him anymore. i would always have a soft spot for him in my heart, but i wasn’t in love with him. i’d been slowly piecing myself back together for the past year and a half, as my feelings for spencer faded i felt better, and stronger.

i felt more confident than i had in a long time, because i wasn’t constantly competing for his attention or comparing myself to the women he preferred. i once felt like spencer and i were tied together like planets orbiting the sun, but that was never a true representation of our relationship because he was my sun, the light and center of my life.

and to him i was just one of many trapped in his orbit. i let my love for him burn and keep me warm for years, but you can have too much of a good thing i was blinded by that love. eventually, you have to learn to keep yourself warm. eventually the eclipse will pass.

“when?”

“a couple of months ago.”

i sigh and lean back in my chair, “why are you telling me this spencer?”

spencer isn’t look at me anymore and for once i don’t mind.

“alex, could you give us a minute?” he asks, she hesitates for a moment, “please.”

eventually she nods, gets up and leaves. spencer takes her seat.

i pick at my nails, “so now you want to sit down, huh?”

“don’t be like that.”

“oh i’m sorry, have i been rude to you?” i scoff, “are you not the one who has been unprofessional and-”

“i shouldn’t need to be professional with my friends!”

“are we even friends anymore, spencer?”

he shrugs and looks down at his lap. i see the dark circles rimming his eyes, the hollowness in his face, the tangles in his hair. he looks rough. his chapped lips, his pale skin, his bruised knuckles, he looks ill.

“why did you barge into my interview? blake wasn’t going to ask me anything you didn’t already know the answer to.”

“i wanted to see if you’d about your transfer, and you did-”

“spencer, i don’t know why you have this fixation on why i left, but if you want me to say it so badly then fine. i left because of you, is that what you wanted to hear? are you happy now?”

i wait for the tears to well up in my eyes but they don’t come. i can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

“do you think i would be happy about you leaving because of me?” his voice cracks, “i learned recently what rejection can do to a person, i guess i wanted to see if-”

“if what? your rejection drove me to become a terrorist?” i snort, “jesus fucking christ spencer, i’d have hoped you had more faith in me than that.”

my heart begins to soften when i see the tears in his eyes. that fucking soft spot.

“with maeve…” tears begin to stream down his face and it’s several minutes before he can bring himself to speak, “maeve rejected a phd student’s thesis, and it drove her crazy. she stalked, kidnapped and eventually killed them both, and that was just a thesis rejection.”

he holds his head and his hands and cries, i stand up from my chair and shuffle round the desk, bending down i wrap my arms around him.

“i’m not a profiler anymore, but you’re upset and i think you’re projecting your feelings about maeve’s death onto me.”

he shakes his head, “she was the love of my life, i wanted to spend forever with her and she’s gone. i’m not upset, i’m devastated,” i wipe the tears streaming down his skeletal cheeks, “and i am projecting my feelings, but not about this.”

“spencer, i-”

“no, let me finish, please,” he whimpers, “i’ve been thinking about you, even before maeve died, since that day at nyu and i don’t think i’ve been a good friend to you, i should’ve noticed your feelings sooner. and i shouldn’t have made you listen to my feelings about jj all those years, it wasn’t fair-”

“you don’t need to apologise, you didn’t know-”

“but i should’ve! you were right in front of my nose and i never noticed,” he looks up at me with his tear-filled eyes, “i think i could’ve learned to love you, if i’d had the chance.”

my blood runs cold and i drop my arms from their embrace around him, slowly backing away, “learned to love me?” i repeat, “i don’t want you to have to have force yourself to love me, who would want that?”

“wait, no i’m sorry. i just meant that-”

“i’m finally over you spencer,” i cry, “i spent years putting back together what you broke, and now you come to my job and tell me that you could’ve learned to love me? no. that’s not fair spencer, i deserve someone who loves me without having to try, i don’t need your pity or your fake love.”

i turn on my heel and storm towards the door, spencer leaps to his feet and follows me, crying out his apologies the whole way. i ignore him, because what else does he expect me to say?

i’ve worked so hard to put my life back together, and now he wants to shatter me like glass over again? he wants to sit in front of me, in my fucking office, and tell me that if he’d profiled me a little bit harder then we could be together right now?

i think i could’ve learned to love you.

somehow the words hurt more than his rejection.

i swing open my door, hotch is standing in the doorway.

“we got the mole.”

“who was it?” spencer asks, evidently having pulled himself together long enough respond to hotch.

“an agent jermey cole,” hotch says hesitantly, his eyes flickering between us, “were you two close?”

“not anymore,” i say, mocking spencer’s earlier words as i shoot a glare back at him, “we only dated for a few months, i broke up with him when he started acting strange...”

“strange how?” hotch questions.

“weird phone calls in the middle of the night, hiding his texts from me, coming home late…god i was so stupid. i thought he was cheating on me.”

hotch places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “it’s not your fault, that was a far more reasonable assumption than guessing he was part of a terrorist cell. but we caught him before he could do any real damage, i have to go and call the director. i was just coming to tell reid we’re heading back to the jet now.”

hotch nods at spencer and walks away, pulling his phone from his pocket as he enters fitz’s office.

“i didn’t know you were dating anyone,” spencer whispered.

“yeah,” i spit, “guess you could say i was learning to love him.”

i leave spencer standing in the doorway to my office.

i think i could’ve learned to love you.

his words sting, and they definitely make me angry. but there’s a satisfaction in knowing that they don’t make me fall apart. i love spencer, but i’m not in love with him, and this erases any doubts i had about that fact. had he said those words to me a year ago, i’d have been crumbling to pieces in his arms.

but now i feel like honey and glass.

it’s been two years since i saw spencer.

it’s been two years since i saw anyone on the team, jj sends me pictures of the boys sometimes, but even we aren’t the same as we used to be. and i think i’m okay with that.

fitz and i make a good team, we run the counter terrorism division like well oiled machine and people don’t die. he’s my best friend now, and i don’t need anyone else.

not in my personal life at least. but professionally, we’re at a dead end on this case and if we don’t act now then people will die. fitz and i only work so well as a team because we know when to make the hard calls.

for me, the hardest call was when i had to pick up my phone and ask agent hotchner for his help tracking down a serial bomber who was targeting busy tourist spots around the city.

it’s been two, peaceful years since i saw anyone from the bau, and now they’re standing next to me, clad in bullet proof vests and surrounded by s.w.a.t agents as we approach grand central station, one of the most frequented areas in the city.

this was his endgame.

the n.y.p.d are working on evacuating the station, and all incoming trains have been rerouted. the bomb squad are getting anxious, they don’t like waiting around like this, but there isn’t much they can do when the unsub has the bomb strapped to his chest.

fitz is trying to talk him down, but i can see the unsub getting angrier and angrier with every second, he’s going to blow us all up.

“we need to do something,” i hiss to hotch.

we’re standing at the very edge of the station by the entrances, ready to sprint out if he decides to detonate. only i can’t leave fitz, i didn’t want to let him to go and talk to the bomber and i tried to fight my way towards them but hotch told me i could either stay with him and follow his orders or i could go back to headquarters. i begrudgingly chose the former.

“well we can’t shoot him, he has a manual and biomechanical trigger – if the heart rate monitor detects that his has heart stops beating the bomb will arm automatically, our only chance is if fitz can talk him down.”

i tap my foot, “he shouldn’t even be the one negotiating, he has a wife now and a kid on the way, if he dies that baby is gonna grow up without a dad,” I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms and draw blood, “if i die, the only person i’m going to hurt is myself, but i’ll be dead so it won’t matter.”

“i can’t let you go over there-” hotch begins.

i look over at fitz, standing several feet away from the bomber with his hands in the air. i imagine telling his wife that her husband has been blown to pieces, i imagine her going through labour alone, i imagine his kid growing up and asking why everyone has a daddy apart from them.

“no you can’t, but you also can’t stop me,” i say, shoving my gun back into its holster and taking my first few steps towards the unsub.

hotch is hissing something at me but i don’t hear him because everything happens so fast after that. something in the unsubs body language shifts, and before i know it i’m being blown backwards by a searing hot force.

every window in the building shatters, and i land in a pile of glass, the shards tearing at my skin as a try and push myself to my feet. my head is aching, and everything blurs in front of me, but i can tell from the acrid smell and orange glow that half the building is on fire. i pat myself down, searching for any pieces of shrapnel or glass embedded in my body, i don’t feel penetrating wounds but when i hold my hands up above my face my fingers are slick with blood.

my vision is so blurry, and i can’t hear a thing over the ringing in my ears. spencer’s face appears in front of my eyes, his lips are moving but i still can’t hear a word. the ringing is overwhelming and black spots are beginning to appear across my vision.

i want to go to sleep.

my eyes flutter shut.

i think someone is shaking me.

the ringing is too much.

when i begin to float back to consciousness, the ringing is gone and is replaced with a consistent beeping. my body is aching, and i groan as i try and sit myself up because my arms don’t want to cooperate with me. when i look down i see they’re wrapped up tightly in bandages.

“hey, don’t try and move yet,” a voice says, “you have a concussion, the doctor says you’ll be okay but groggy for a while.”

the voice shifts into view, its spencer. his face is twisted with worry and he’s biting at his nail, “how do you feel?”

“like i was hit by a train,” i cough, “what happened?”

his face drops, “you don’t remember?”

i try to shake my head but it hurts to try and move, “bits and pieces, did n.y.p.d get everyone out?”

he nods, “yeah, your team did a good job,” he shifts towards me and takes a seat on the bed next to me, “but there’s something else-”

“god, my head really hurts, can they give me any pain meds?”

“yeah, i’m sure they can, i’ll ask a nurse in a minute,” he says softly, “but i have some bad news…it’s agent fitz-”

“no. no, no, no,” the tears start to burn in my eyes and my vision is blurrier than it was immediately after the explosion, “don’t say it, please don’t say it,” i plead.

he takes my hand, “okay, i won’t.”

the tears are streaming down my face i can’t bring myself to wipe them away, my body aches as it’s racked with sobs. spencer doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes my hand and takes out a handkerchief to dry away my tears.

“d-does his wife know?” i finally manage to choke out.

“yeah, hotch spoke to her.”

gemma was a lovely woman, i don’t know how i can face her again when the guilt flooding my body tells me that this is my fault. fitz is dead, and it should’ve been me.

“this isn’t fair,” i croak.

“i know, it’s never fair. but he saved so many people-”

“no. i mean it’s not fucking fair because he never should’ve been in that position in the first place, if i’d just gotten there sooner then he never would’ve tried to negotiate, it should’ve been me.”

through my own tears i think i see spencer’s eyes turn red and glassy, he shakes his head and grips onto my hand so tightly it hurts, if i had the energy i’d tell him to loosen his grip but i can’t make myself speak.

“i know what its like to have someone you love die right in front of you,” he says, and from the pain in his voice i know he isn’t lying and i know he’s talking about maeve, “i know what its like to feel that guilt and wish it was you instead but-”

“do you think we’re cursed spencer?”

“what do you mean?”

i close my eyes, “bad things seem to happen to us more than anyone else i know, we’ve both been kidnapped, drugged, tortured, known the agony of unrequited love, had someone we love killed in front of our eyes…how am i supposed to have any faith in life when we’re just bombarded with trauma and pain every single day?”

spencer opens his mouth to speak but he falters, i can only recall one other occasion where i’ve seen spencer speechless. it’s not a sight that i ever want to see again, he looks so lost as he stares down at me and i know that he doesn’t know what to say.

morgan pops his head around the door, “glad to see you’re awake,” he says.

i smile weakly at him before tilting my head away, i don’t need anyone else seeing me cry.

“sorry kid, but hotch wants wheels up in thirty, we need to get a move on.”

“yeah, i’ll be two minutes.”

my heart sinks in my chest because i realise that spencer’s hand is still intertwined with mine and i know that my heart will break when he pulls his away. i shakily raise my hand to dry my eyes, spencer has to go now, and i need to dry my own eyes from now on.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i don’t want to leave you but-”

“it’s okay, spencer,” i say, shifting my head back so i can see his face again.

his honey and glass eyes are boring into mine, and in that moment, we are connected by our mutual pain, and maybe something deeper that i can’t quite discern.

“you could come back with me,” he says hopefully.

i shake my head, “you know i can’t spencer,” i squeeze his hand lightly, “you go, i’ll be okay.”

i can’t go with him because i think i know what his eyes are asking me and i can’t open myself up to something like that right now. i can’t disregard the last five years that i have spent re-building myself just for something that i may be reading too much into.

he lets go of my hand and an involuntary shiver runs through my body, i had grown so accustomed to our brief skin to skin contact and now that it’s gone i feel like i’m missing a part of myself.

“i’m so sorry, about everything-”

“it’s okay spencer, i’m starting to think that we aren’t meant to have a happily ever after.”

he doesn’t say anything else; he just presses a gentle kiss against my forehead before he skirts of the room.

i lie motionless in my hospital bed, the nurse comes in to administer some pain meds and i almost wished she hadn’t because at least the pounding in my head and stinging from my cuts meant i could feel something.

without spencer, the room is colder. i thought that having my own, personal sun was a bad thing because i thought that being strong and independent meant never relying on anyone for anything. i realise now that being strong means knowing when to when to depend on others.

i wish fitz were here, he would know exactly what to say.

i feel like rotten honey and shattered glass.

i’m not surprised by the look of shock that spreads across his face when he swings open the door to see me standing in the hallway. i open my mouth to speak but i realise i never figured out what to say. i had two cab journeys, a flight, a decade of loving him and i still don’t know what to say.

he must see something on my face because his own stony expression softens, and he reaches out a hand.

“what made you change your mind?”

it’s warm against my own, still freezing from the bitter, winter wind.

“i realised i was wrong, i thought if i ran straight back into your arms it would ruin all the years i spent sticking myself back together. before you were oxygen to me, and i couldn’t live without you. now i know that i can, i just don’t want to.”

he squeezes my hand, pulling me towards him. i’m in his apartment.

“you told me once that you still love me, but you aren’t in love with me. is that still true?”

i nod, “yes, but i don’t think that you’re in love with me either. yet,” i wink at him and he grins, “i don’t need to learn how to love you, i already know how to do that. i just need to be persuaded to fall in love with you again.”

he takes a step closer to me, “persuaded how?”

i snake my arms around his neck and his lips brush against mine, “like this.”

i press my lips against his and i don’t feel fireworks or butterflies or a gravitational pull, i just feel at home. i don’t need a happily ever after beacuse he is enough.

he tastes like coffee and i feel like honey and glass.

as usual i have finished this super late at night and havent proof read at all so pls ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes - also aware that the timeline in this probably doesn't align with canon cos i have no clue how far apart certain events happened so ive made some educated guesses.

i never planned for honey and glass to have a part 2 but i wrote one due to all the requests i got so i’m sorry if the plot isnt the best because i didnt really know where to take it. i’m definitely not as happy with this as i was with part one but i still hope you enjoy it!

taglist:

@mggswhorificlover @doctorthreephds @minami97 @bisexualwomanofcolour @ashwarren32 @bangisbae @haylaansmi @heyy-itsharley03 @starjane312 @awesometheydontknowiamhere @radtwinkie @allexthakatt @spencereidshoe @mgglover @spideyr3id

@cloudyskylines @pastelvixenbeauty @hatemyselfbutitsokay @writingwithnotime @awkwxrdmarauders

ive tagged anyone who commented on part 1 or liked my posts about a part 2 so im sorry if you didnt want to be tagged, if ur name is scored through then i tried to tag you but it wouldnt let me x

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid angst #hurt and comfort #spencer reid headcanons

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,” Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her.

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

Small Signs (1/1)

Fandom: Resident Evil 7

Summary: Ethan wakes up, thinking of his wife, who has been missing for three years. Little does he know today will be the first news of her he'll get since she disappeared.

Word count: 1.4k AO3

Another dull day.

Another day Ethan wakes up and the other side of the bed is cold.

One would think that he would get used to it, after all this time. But no. Some days he still finds himself waking up and instinctively reaching to hold her.

She always responded to his touch, no matter how deep her sleep. She would sigh and move her body closer to him, then nestle there until she actually woke. He would wait for her to wake up, work honestly be damned, he'd think sometimes.

He stretches his arm, laying it where she would've been, hand on the pillow, fingers running softly over the fabric. He would’ve been mad to think that her scent could have stayed on it after three years.

He sighs. Three years of confusion.

Work be damned, he used to think, but it's the only thing that has managed to keep his mind occupied. His co-workers realized quickly that he was dealing with Mia's disappearance on his own way and time, and they left him alone about all the "You should move on" stuff as soon as they started.

Not that he doesn't appreciate their sympathy. But they’re not in the know.

Even their friends feel distanced to him now. They’ve mourned Mia already, and he’s now the odd one out. He still enjoys their company, but despite the remarks on how it isn't too early to start going out again being rare, sometimes it feels like they can’t get it.

He just wishes he had any fucking way to explain to them the very last message he got from Mia.

"Stay away. Forget that you ever knew me. Have a good life."

It still sends shivers down his spine to think of it. He remembers the moment he watched it the first time clear as ever. How he'd stayed frozen, almost shivering from shock, in front of his computer, for who knows how long after the video had ended. The sirens blaring in the background. Mia's distraught, tired, dirty face. Her telling him to forget her. Completely. As if she never existed.

A part of him – a small one, but a part nonetheless – was almost angry at her request. She'd lied to him – and admitted so – and after all those years of being together, she just expected him to forget all about it? Their love? Her admittance? Her guilt?

Her?

He groans in frustration. Despite anything else, he feels guilty for being even that little angry at her. And for the life of him, he can’t believe she didn’t love him. She couldn’t have just left him… there must have been another reason.

Maybe he should do as she said and have a good life. Maybe he should really move on. Maybe he should just do as their friends want to tell him but won't.

But still... If they had known...

The police had instructed him to not tell anyone about Mia's last video. Even if they hadn't, he still had no idea how to even start that conversation.

"Yeah, first she sent me that sweet message, with the promise of coming back soon, and that same night she sent me this one and it scared the shit out of me. And then she disappeared without a trace. Can you see now why I can't really move on?"

If only he knew what happened. Without a body found, he believes he'll spend eternity hoping he'll get news of her. Not that a body is difficult to get lost and destroyed to the point of no recognition, that fucking voice he hasn’t been able to mute even three years later, says again.

If only he could just know what happened. How, or why she disappeared. If she died, at least if it was quick and painless. At this point he's gotten used to the jab inside his chest at the thought of her actually being dead. It still hurts as much as first, but the pain comes less often and more anticipated.

He wants answers. What was with the creepy video, why she lied to him, what she hid from him.

Who is he kidding? Most of all, he wants her.

It isn't like that every day. He gets up with his alarm clock and loses himself in the morning prep routine, focuses on work, goes back home and finds ways to spend the day by either cleaning, tidying up, maybe distracting himself with a beer with friends and then goes to sleep, hoping the next day will provide opportunities for distractions again.

He's given up on the piano. He was pretty mediocre at it already, so it's not like he has any memories of himself playing exquisite sonatas and Mia sitting next to him, being entranced by his fingers dancing across the keys. But he's supposed to be happy for it. He's supposed to give heart to it.

He doesn't feel like he has much of a heart left. Sad thought, he's aware. But it's also true.

The alarm clock on his phone finally rings. He silences it and gets up.

That one small difference, waking up a few minutes before the alarm, stains his entire day. When he opens the cupboard to take the coffee jar, his eyes fall on the sugar jar and he remembers how Mia took her coffee with sugar, and how that jar has barely seen any use in the past three years. When he washes his now empty coffee mug, the lack of a second cup to wash brings a feeling of emptiness in him. When he brushes his teeth, Mia’s old toothbrush is almost taunting him. He didn’t throw it away at first, because, well, she could have returned at any time, right? After the designated three months since she’d first used it passed, he felt as if throwing it away would send out a sign of resignation to the universe, or something. So there it stays and haunts him.

He’s almost managed to forget about that and ignore its existence. But today, being such a day, when he opens the towel cupboard to take out a new one, it catches his eye. An unopened pregnancy test box, probably expired by now.

The last pregnancy test Mia’d had was negative. “When I come back, we’ll try again. It will be positive, then. I know it,” she’d said.

He just had to change the towels today of all days, didn’t he?

He thinks that getting out of the apartment will make him feel better, with some – relatively – clean air in his lungs. Instead, it makes him feel emptier. No goodbye kiss, no see you later, her house keys still and always missing.

Even with work he can't get his mind off. Especially when an old man calls him for help with his computer and starts talking about how it was a gift from his lovely wife.

Is it too much, that he once dreamed – and sometimes, his traitorous mind still dreams – of himself and Mia growing into an adorable old couple like them? Is it because he was so damn happy, that the universe decided a different path for him?

Ethan feels thankful, albeit reluctant, when Jim invites him out for drinks that night.

Had he been asked, he'd never believe that his sullen mood that day would be a sign. A sign that, while Jim would be talking about a particularly demanding and annoying customer, Ethan's phone would ring with a notification. That he'd turn it on and in a shocked state he'd see that he got an email. From Mia.

Dulvey, Louisiana. Baker Farm. Come get me.

It's her account, he knows it. He even knows the password; he had logged in a few times over the past three years in the frail hope it would somehow bring her to him. Last time was one and a half month ago, on their anniversary.

He doesn't even stop to think. Louisiana, fuck, that's nearly across the country.

Well, no time to waste then. He starts picking up his stuff.

"You okay?" Jim asks.

"Yeah. I- I gotta go."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just- I gotta go."

"Ethan, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed.

He nearly runs to the exit, not looking back at his friend.

Mia is out there, calling out to him, and he's going to get her back.

A/N: Boi has no single clue what nightmare he's getting himself into XD

Anyway, I headcanon that Ethan plays a bit of piano. There are enough appearances of pianos both in RE7 and RE8 (and even a puzzle with one) so I'm going with that. I feel that it's just a hobby to him, so practicing everyday is not his priority, and after Mia disappeared it would just feel wrong to him. Boi's sentimental af.

I looked all over the game's credits, and I couldn't find if the dude Ethan calls at the begining of the game has a name (or even who voices him, lol), so I gave him one myself. I just thought it'd be cool to tie it in that way.

Also, hey, this is the first time I write for this fandom. Yay me! Here's to probably writing more fic!

#piracytheorist writes #Ethan Winters #Mithan #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 7 #re ff #re7 ff #I have no single clue how to tag this lmao #writing for new fandoms be like that #I'm expanding my fandoms list how cool is that

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory. His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age. Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?” What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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time-and-souvenir · 4 years

Text

Dazzled is an Understatement Part II

Summary: Curious about what happened to Victor and MC’s after the end of the Dazzling Date? A continuation from Victor’s POV. Part 2/3 of Dazzled is an Understatement.

FYI: Some NSFW, spoilers for chp 10 and beyond, spoilers for Dazzling Date and as always I chose a random name for MC.

Wordcount: 3053 words.

Notes: It’s crazy to me that some of you wanted more of this fanfic? Lol! Dazzled was supposed to be a one shot but I decided to write a second part to it to wrap it up. THEN I wrote this and decided, you know what? I’m making this into THREE parts 😂❤️Thanks to everyone who suggested this, liked, commented and reblogged the first part of Dazzled is an Understatement! & thank you for being SO PATIENT, reading and supporting my writing ♥️ Part 3 is coming soon! I hope you guys like it❤️

“Yes, yes. I know Goldman. I am aware of that,” Victor replied in annoyance as he sifted through the progress reports of several projects LFG had planned in the coming week. He had spent many hours writing up the perfect proposal for this new company he was about acquire, it was an offer they wouldn’t be able to refuse. Working together with Goldman everything was moving very smoothly, until the company somehow started to get cold feet. For reasons he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t happy about it; the company knew who he was and what his company did, what in the world possessed them to do this?

“We could rework the offer and add in another department they might like, sir. I’ve been looking over their assets again and it would be very lucrative---“

“No. The offer I gave them was plenty, we don’t bend to someone that is inferior to our company, especially a company we are trying to acquire Goldman,” Victor responded, irritation lacing his tone. The more he kept discussing things over with his assistant, the more heated his blood became and not in a good way. Goldman changed tactics and suggested another way LFG could make things work and the ravenette listened intently. He clicked on his email, looking over the different graphics, information on the company’s growth and some articles of the company’s achievements that Goldman sent him. It was a decent size, but with proper funding, patience and the guidance of LFG it would succeed. A new plan started to form in his head.

“Here is what I want you to do Goldman,” Victor leaned back in his chair and started to rattle off what he needed his subordinate to do. Ten minutes later as their phone call started to wrap up, he felt much more confident with what was discussed. The ravenette had always gotten what he wanted, one way or another and this small little company was next. He stood up and stretched slightly, keeping his phone tucked into his shoulder so he could continue to hear Goldman. He walked over to his home office window, the sun setting in the distance. He had been working from his penthouse for a couple of days now, work had become…somewhat distracting.

“I need you to finish up that proposal within the hour, type it up and bring it over with the other data that we’ve discussed. I’ll give you the final approval so you can take it to their office tomorrow,” Victor paused, shutting his laptop closed and turning towards the door of his office. It had gotten rather late and he needed to make dinner. “If that’s all, I’ll see you----"

“Uh actually, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Miss Juliette has been insistent on trying to schedule an appointment with you. She’s been calling me nonstop for the last three days, almost demanding to talk or see you,” Goldman trailed off, sounding nervous. The CEO paused in the doorway of his home office, his breath almost catching. He closed his eyes and a sigh escaped his lips.

“Do she happen to mention what was so urgent?” He asked as he left the room, heading towards his gourmet kitchen.

“She said she needed to speak to you about something important but did not elaborate beyond that. I am sorry, sir. What would you like me to do?” His assistant asked, he didn’t sound nervous anymore instead is tone was curious.

“Do as I said before, write up the proposal and bring me that data in one hour, Goldman. That is all,” Victor snapped and hung up the phone, he set the device down on his kitchen island and ran a hand down his face in annoyance. He had been dodging Juliette’s calls for almost five days now, five days since their date and the night they had kissed. He swore he could still feel the heat from her mouth on his own and the warmth of her skin as they slept together in her bed. His cock twitched at the thought of her wrapped around him, suddenly remembering how soft and wet her mouth felt.

Groaning, the black-haired male shook his head and walked around the kitchen island, going to one of his cabinets and opening it. He took out his favorite glass and went to fetch a bottle of wine, on a mission to pick out one of his most expensive ones. With the way he had been feeling, he might end up drinking the entire bottle. Victor had no idea why he felt this way, not only had Juliette been his long-lost childhood love, they had somehow found their way back to one another and their relationship was starting to blossom. There was no reason to feel down or disappointed by anything, he had finally found her, and everything was falling into place. Then why did feel so horrid about it? He grabbed a bottle of wine from his collection and went back to the kitchen island, searching for a wine opener from one of its drawers. He found what he needed and made quick work of the bottle before pouring himself a glass.

Juliette had made the first move between them, she had initiated and kissed him. The CEO had been so worried to do anything at first, there was a lot that had happened between them and the years they spent apart stacked between them as well. Everything had been exactly like he wanted with Juliette and more, but he didn’t want to ruin it by pushing her into a direction she didn’t want to go into or wasn’t ready for. His little idiot was a strong and stubborn woman, but he had seen the fear and questioning in her eyes sometimes when they were together, so he decided to be careful. Besides, they had all the time together in the world, his evol made sure of that. Closing his eyes, he downed the glass of wine and poured himself another. He was in complete and utter misery. One, he had missed Juliette desperately. He missed talking to her and frankly he also felt anxious not talking to her. Something he would never admit aloud, but it was something that hovered over him like a cloud. Two, how in the world could he face her after the dream he had? Yes, they had kissed and touched on their date and fell asleep together but having that type of dream while she slept next to him was so mortifying.

Victor took a sip of his dream, letting his thoughts consume him for a few moments. He had been so happy she had kissed him first, it gave him the permission he needed that she wanted that from him. It was still hard for him to do anything, let alone truly touch her because he was afraid something would go wrong. It was as if he thought of her as some expensive artwork and if he hadn’t locked up and put that artwork something horrible would happen. Somehow the artwork would be ruined, or someone would try and steal it; but Juliette wasn’t artwork, no she was the precious little girl he had been desperately searching for years and years. She was real and in front of him, but he was so afraid to touch her, so afraid she would disappear.

Sighing, he downed the rest of his and set the wine glass down. Two glasses should be enough for now, he still needed to eat. Shaking his head, he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. He scanned the different shelves, trying to come up with something quick but fulfilling, it wasn’t too late but still. Something heavy wouldn’t do. Suddenly, the sound of his doorbell went off and he blinked looking up. Victor shut the fridge and grabbed his phone off the kitchen island, it hadn’t been thirty minutes yet and Goldman had already finished and arrived? And he had a key, why in the world wasn’t he using it? All of a sudden feeling a bit annoyed, the CEO left his kitchen and walked towards the entrance of his home.

Once he got there, he paused and opened up his phone bringing up the old proposal for tor company LFG was soon to acquire from earlier. He unlocked and opened the door, stepping aside. “Goldman, I appreciate your quickness, but why aren’t you using your key?” He spoke without looking up from his phone.

“Maybe because I’m not Goldman, Victor.” A sweet, but irritated feminine voice rang out in front of him. The ravenette started to feel his pulse race a bit and he looked up from his phone, trying to hide the shock from his face. Juliette stood before him, her arms across her chest as her foot tapped ever so slightly on the floor. She was so tiny in comparison to him, yet she looked like she was ready to take him down at any moment. Blinking, he shook his head and ushered her inside, thankfully she didn’t put up a fuss as she entered his home. He swiftly closed the door, the sound of the lock filling up his foyer.

“One moment.” Victor looked at her and tried not to stare, but she shrugged and turned her back to him, making her way into his main living place.

Trying to snap out of his shock, he shook his head and dialed Goldman’s phone number. “Finish the proposal, recheck the data and have everything ready to be discussed tomorrow. Tonight, is no longer available.” He spoke with absolution as he heard Goldman start to stutter in disbelief on the other line. Before his assistant could argue or say anything further, he hung up on him. Goldman had dealt with bigger issues before, he would be fine.

The CEO quickly followed Juliette into the living room, where he found her sitting on his couch waiting. She looked beautiful and lovely as always, even with the annoyance rolling out of her in waves, nothing could stop how gorgeous she was to him. Victor couldn’t help but smile a bit at how she was acting, the woman before him looked like a very annoyed, fluffed up kitten. He sat down beside her, setting his phone on the coffee table before turning to her, giving the brunette his full attention.

“Why have you been avoiding me? My calls?” Juliette spoke angrily, a confused look into her chocolate colored eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, it’s one thing to ignore me for work but…” She trailed off, her expression suddenly becoming vulnerable. “We had that wonderful date, I thought we had grown closer. I know you didn’t mean to spend the night on purpose, but I enjoyed waking up in your arms. I know you did too, so I don’t understand,” the producer shook her head back and forth before stopping to look at him again. “I don’t understand why you aren’t talking to me.” The irritation she had come to his home with vanished and a look of hurt crossed her face instead.

Gently, Victor reached out and cupped her face. Moving close to her, his fingers stroked her skin and his pulse quickened slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He spoke softly as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against his. Juliette sniffed and he felt her slender arms encircle his neck. His breath caught slightly, and he closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them to find her gaze focused on his own. Without thinking, the ravenette gently tilted her face up to his and pecked her lips against his. Juliette gasped against his mouth and he smiled in return. He angled his head slightly and kissed her once more, deepening it.

“Victor…” the brunette murmured his name and it was as if the spell that been cast on him broke. He pulled away from her, enough to look down at her face. His fingers still lingered on her cheeks and a look on confusion filled her now flushed face. He had to get better grip on himself and his thoughts, his annoying, tortuous lewd thoughts of her. They had just found one another one again and after seventeen years of searching for her, he still couldn’t believe he had finally found her and the little girl who had saved him all those years ago. He couldn’t risk ruining what they had because of his own carnal, selfish desires. Reluctantly he let go of her face and started to pull away only to find the front of his shirt being grabbed and pulled back toward her. He started to say her name but closed his mouth and repeatedly blinked several times at the look on her face. “I am not a doll or a piece of glass. I’m the woman you love.” Juliette pulled him so closed to her that their noses barely were inches apart. Her dark hues kept moving from his eyes to his mouth and something just snapped inside of him.

The CEO wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her neck, he felt himself shaking a little. “Is it so wrong that I want to cherish you Juliette?” He murmured into her skin, kissing the spot beneath her ear. He felt her hands move into his hair, her delicate fingers stroking through the strands. “Cherishing doesn’t mean keeping me at arm’s length or ignoring the fact that we want one another.” Juliette’s hands suddenly disappeared from his head and he felt a gentle nudge underneath his chin, he obliged her and looked at her. She kissed his nose and pressed her forehead against his own, her arms immediately wrapping around his neck. “I love you and I want you.” Victor fought the urge to stop and rewind time, but he also didn’t want to make Juliette have to wait any longer either. His little producer had gotten quite bold, maybe all his heavy teasing and business advice had finally gotten through to her.

“I have always loved you,” He murmured against her mouth before pressing a chase against her mouth and a small murmur was her response, her nails digging lightly into the back of his neck. Smiling Victor kissed her again, sliding his tongue past her lips and into her mouth to meet her tongue. His hands cradled and angled her face up to his as they kissed. Juliette sighed and moaned into his mouth as kept his lips against her own, his fingers stroking the sides of her face. Victor pulled away after what seemed like hours from her panting ever so slightly, his cock throbbing and beginning to harden as he stared at her flushed face and wide-eyed gaze.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” He asked as his hands left her cheeks and moved down her neck, his fingers tracing her body downward until they rested against her hips. The brunette stared up at him for a few moments not saying anything and he was about to say something when she dug her nails gently but with purpose into his neck.

“Some of it. Does it matter?” She asked holding his gaze and ignoring his hands moved and gripped the backs of her legs, he swore he saw her chest rise and fall faster at the movement.

“Hold on tight to me.” Victor replied and lifted her off the couch making sure that her legs wrapped around his torso. She made a small sound of distress, but he kissed her cheek and chuckled. “I’m not going to let you fall, Juliette.” She adjusted herself a bit against him and once she settled into his arms, she pulled out slightly and looked down at him. Her eyebrows rose when he didn’t move, he just stood there holding her.

“Are you sure you want---?”

“Victor,” She cut him off and one of her hands grabbed his chin and pulled his face closer to her own. Her chocolate orbs seemed ablaze with determination, the same gaze he had seem her do many times before either when presenting a report to him or eating one of his meals. He pecked her mouth and moved his hands from her hips to his ass, squeezing the delicate round. The earlier bravo she had had shown him all of a sudden faded and her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. Smirking, he kissed her again making sure to press his middle especially hard between the spot of her legs. Her hands dug into his shoulders and she let out a low sound against his mouth. Pulling away, he kissed her nose and started to walk away from the couch and living room and moved towards the stairs. “Just wanted to make sure you know what you’re getting into.” Victor kissed her again, breaking apart only for a few moments to angle his face towards her. He reached the stairs and carefully went up them one by one, his fingers kneading and squeezing the brunette’s ass. Juliette kept letting low moans escape her mouth and into his own, her voice was getting louder with each passing moment and he wondered if she had even realized she was making a sound.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, the CEO carried her down the hallway and paused at his bedroom door. Victor broke away from her lips only to find himself pressing his forehead against her own. His dark hues looking into her own gaze as they looked at one another.

“When we go in there I’m not going to stop, so I need to know…” He paused, reaching up one of his hands and caressing the side of her face. “Are you sure?” His thumb traced her mouth before he leaned in and kissed her again. Pulling back his hand left her face and back down to her side, squeezing her there. His hands tangling in the fabric as he took a step forward, pausing in the doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m sure,” Juliette spoke her voice seemingly out of breath, and he smiled in response. Kissing her deeply once more, Victor moved them into his bedroom using his back foot to shut the door firmly behind them.

#my writing #Dazzled is an Understatement #Victor #mr love victor #mlqc victor #love and producer #mr love #mr love queen's choice #mr love mobile #mr love dream date #mlqc fanfic #mr love fanfic #mlqc #-posts this randomly and runs away-#ahhhhhh

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rairaidango · 4 years

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SEEDS THAT GROW - Tobisaku, Madasaku, Ita(masaku)

CHAPTER 2 - BEST FRIENDS

First chapter garnered more attention than I had expected it to ngl! But it felt nice to know ppl like wtv im trying out here. Here is chapter 2! Just a reminder I’m not a creative writer (nor do I write well at all lol). This is just fun for me and allows me to focus on something new during quarantine :) It’s pr slowburn but focuses on a lot of Sakura’s thoughts and feelings. (and her amazing friendship with Ino)

TW : mentions of depression, anxiety, self-loathing, etc

“Yeah I’ve definitely seen you at the club before!” Itama pointed at her, mouth wide open in a boyish smile.

There was no way this Itama boy was that boy. Was there?

Sakura’s eyes were eagle wide but she quickly shook it off with an awkward laugh. She really couldn’t be sure if it was him, but maybe it was? There really was a possibility.

“Ah, you know maybe! I can’t recall if I have seen you on a night out though.” she tried to calm her nerves down with even more awkward laughter, but she caught Itachi’s eyes. He could see she was a little uncomfortable.

“Maybe you were like really drunk or something but I’ve definitely seen you-”

“Itama, you’ve seen everyone at the club.” Itachi rescued her. She gave Itachi a silent look of thanks. He only nodded in reply. “And you know, you talk too much man.” He slapped the Itama boy on the back.

“Was just trying to be friendly!”

“More like annoying. Why are we friends again?” Shisui tapped his finger on his chin comedically before laughing and receiving punches.

The boys were strangers to her, with maybe the exception of Itachi, but she barely ever spoke to anyone outside of her girl group. She never allowed herself to talk to guys casually, and there was a reason for that as stupid as some people felt about it- but it made sense to her at the time and she feared getting close to people.

So this, this, this was nice. And this was a good thing, a casual conversation with friendly guys. She smiled at the thought, because she missed the times when she had close male friends.

“Alright, everyone’s here according to the attendance list.” Madara announced whilst shuffling the papers in his hand. He pointed to the board making sure to point out the layout of the plans for tomorrow. “The introductory session is tomorrow and we’ve all assigned you to specific roles. We have a large group of eager college students who want to learn more about the wondrous world of medicine and medical practices. If you look at the board you’ll see about 5 groups, each group having 10 students. And two of you will essentially be leading each group and bring them around our campus, then the facilities in our building. This tour will all happen after the presentation that I and Izuna will prepare. Lecture hall 2 alright. You should ALL be there before students arrive. Is that clear?”

The many student volunteers nodded.

“Do we have to do anything before the talk?” Itama raised his hand and spoke.

“Usher in and organise the students coming into the hall. Just make sure everything’s done in an orderly fashion. Knowing you Itama...please do this and work with Itachi.”

Madara knew Itama? Sakura quirked her brow glancing ever so slightly at the boy with the badly done highlights. She wondered what relationship they had for Madara to speak so casually of him.

“Will this be sent to us through email?”

“Of course, you’ll receive the plans, groups, layout and even the presentation when you leave the union. We professors aren’t stupid enough to think any of you, or one of you, could remember this stuff.” A playful smirk plastered on Madara’s face was all it took for Sakura to understand that he was probably only referring to Itama. “Alright 3.30pm tomorrow. Go home and get some rest.”

Who were they to each other?

“You know, I get why nii-san finds your uncle annoying and doesn’t like him very much.” Itama grumbled.

“Eh well to be honest, I get your brother.” Shisui shrugged in response. “Madara likes Itachi though, because he’s a ‘prodigy’.” Itachi only smiled at the mention of his name.“He’s your professor right uh-sorry what’s your name?”

“Ah yeah he is.” a pause. “Uh my name is Sakura. And he’s really a good teacher though.” She got up from her seat and caught sight of the mentioned professor turning off the projector.

And then she realised he was looking right back at her with a piercing red gaze. Embarrassment rose in her and her cheeks felt hot; she looked away as quickly as she noticed his gaze and covered her face from him.

What was that reaction?

“Sakura? I bet you hear how fitting that is.” Shisui snorted. She noticed Itachi was giving her some sort of look, but she couldn’t really figure it out.

Ah shit, he knows.

“Yeah, but you don’t have him constantly picking on you in class and after class and outside of university.”

“Outside of university?” Sakura questioned.

“Yeah, he’s just close to my family. Don’t really understand how or why.” Itama says hands stretched up in the air.

“Don’t know why we’re close to you.” Itachi teased coolly, earning him an annoyed look from Itama.

“Yo, anyone wants some bubble tea. Kokoro Kafe?” Shisui and Itachi grabbed their bags and headed towards the door. “I could do with some milk tea.”

“My sweet tooth and I agree. Sakura?” Sakura looked at the boys in front her. Were they really inviting her to go out and eat? Her?

It was a good thing, they were nice people, and where was the harm in getting to know them?

But Sakura couldn't accept this.

“It’s alright, thank you though. I really do appreciate the invite. I’m just going to go back home and eat.” She smiled, eyes closed. “It was really nice meeting you three though.” She waved, and the boys all waved back and left the union.

She sighed.

Outside, it was getting dark. The blue paint of the sky was darkening to a violet tone dashed with white specks of clouds. The yellow street lights only added to the magical transition of day to evening. It was quiet - but not eerily so, soft fading chatter of students echoed around the campus and the sounds of distant birds were sung in the air.

Sakura breathed in, taking in the moment. She was sitting down on the cold stone steps in front of the union. She rarely ever looked at the scenery around her, but when she did, it helped her feel a little bit more at peace. It helped her feel a little bit more alive.

“Sakura?”

“Sir, you haven’t left?” a sudden bubble of anxiety exploding in her.

“I am now. Are you alright?” He asked. She wasn’t sure if he was asking just to be nice or if he genuinely was concerned.

He probably didn’t care, he just had to ask as her teacher. Realistically speaking, why would anyone really care anyways. She was pretty burdensome and didn’t deserve to be worried about by even her closest friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” She smiled, her smile feigning genuine happiness.

“Alright then.” He passed her a...cookie? “Just making sure. Get home safe, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pointed at her, his expression asking her for confirmation. She just nodded in reply with the same smile.

His figure grew smaller as he walked away and into the parking area, and her stomach felt even more uncomfortable now that she was alone. But she wanted to be alone, so she really couldn’t complain about the discomfort.

Also, what the fuck? A cookie?

“I kind of wanted to ask for her number…”

“Then you should have before we left.” Shisui sipped his Chatime drink. “But then again, maybe you scared her off with all that eagerness.”

“I don’t think I came off too forward.” Itama stated questioningly, and looked to Itachi for an answer.

“I mean...when you mentioned the club..she did look a bit uncomfortable.” Itachi pointed out. Itama pouted slightly. “Maybe next time. You need to be able to read people better if you wanna find someone.” Shisui only laughed. All of the boys, including Itama himself, knew that it was hard for the boy to date. “Not your fault though, cheer up.”

“I was a bit nervous.” Itama said, taking a sip of his green tea latte with a nervous smile.”I’m sure I’ve seen her at Kyo, but only in passing maybe, once or twice. Pretty sure we never talked before.” he sunk into the chair. Itachi just stared at his friend’s disappointed features. “I would’ve remembered.”

“You’re so upset, awh!” Shisui teased.

“She was just really pretty, you know?”

In their house it was always quite lively; everyone was cooking and getting dinner ready before communing in the living room area to gossip and talk about their day. Hinata and Ino were undoubtedly the best cooks of the house, while Sakura and TenTen were often the ones buying readymade food.

Tonight however, Sakura’s fridge was almost empty and all she could really make was some good old penne pasta with ready done tomato sauce. She wasn’t upset about the option, but it was about the fourth time in a row now that she’s had to eat pasta for dinner.

Ino came into the living room - bouncing happily as her usually gleeful self- with an amazing katsu curry dish she had whipped up. The curry flavours lit up the whole room in salivating awe.

“Yes, all of you can have some too. I made a lot.” She grinned with a certain kind of confidence only the Yamanakas had. Taking a seat on the floor between Sakura and Tenten, Ino dug into her delicious dish.

“Honestly I’d marry you just for your food.” Sakura hummed after taking a spoon of her curry.

“JUST for my food?”

“Let me correct myself.” Sakura rubbed her chin in a joking manner. “Because I love you.” Sakura hugged her best friend, and everyone erupted with laughter.

“Ino would be an annoying wife though, think about it.” Temari piped in. “All that nagging and having to do everything her way blah blah.”

“Well, Shikamaru seems to be completely fine with Ino.” Tenten winked and gave a sly look to her long haired blonde friend.

“Oh shut up, we aren’t a thing. We’re just hooking up here and there and we enjoy each other’s company.”

“Well I bet 50 that they’ll end up together!” Ino shot a look at Tenten.

“Honestly I’d be happy if you guys date Pig, you’ve known each other for a while and he is actually a nice person.” Sakura thought of them dating, and she had always rooted for them to eventually end up together. Ino furrowed he brows.

“Maybe Ino just wants to just leave it as it is?” Hinata, usually just an observer, added. “I’m happy you’re having fun though!”

“Okay enough about me guys. My love life is always a hot topic but it gets tiresome when-” Ino flipped her hair back dramatically, “-its always about me” she grinned and sat prettily.

“Yeah oh my god Hinata how are you and Naruto!” Tenten squealed like a little 15 year old girl. Hinata blushed at the question, she was usually more reserved when talking about her personal life.

But Sakura could feel a tightness in her chest at hearing that name.

Hinata noticed this, and smiled softly.

“We’re doing really good. It’s been about 2 months and he’s already met my family.” Hinata made sure to keep it short for her pink haired friend. She knew there was a lot to unpack there and hadn’t expected Tenten to carelessly bring that name about.

“Awh, you guys are honestly so cute. It makes me happy knowing that 2 of us here are having good and fun love lives.” Tenten sighed as she slid next to Temari.

“Let’s not talk about me though!” Hinata waves her hands off nervously. “My relationship isn’t very interesting, we all know about it!” She glanced at Sakura, who was fumbling with her fork and pasta. Ino noticed it too and caught on to redirect the conversation.

“Sakura! So, found that mystery hot makeout session boy in Kyo yet?” Ino grinned nudging her best friend.

“Ah?” Sakura woke up from a trance.

Fuck. She didn’t like falling in and out of conversation and her thoughts like this. It was really tiring and disorienting.

“Kyo guy!” Tenten giggled back.

“Oh you know what, maybe? I met this guy today and he said he recognised me-”

“What?! You’re only saying this now?? Bitch the fuck!!” Ino’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped to the floor.

“What’s his name?” Temari asked amidst all the shocked faces.

“Well uh..I met 3 guys. The guy who I think could be the one I met at Kyo is Itama. Then I met Sasuke’s brother and another Uchiha. Shisui if I remember right.” Sakura remembered. They were all really friendly guys.

“Was it at that meeting today?” Ino asked.

“Yeah, Madara knows like all three of them personally. Madara’s Itachi’s uncle. And I think Madara also knows Itama’s family? Or something? Honestly I’m not sure.” It was confusing to be fair.

“Even I’ve never met the famous Itachi…” Ino muttered. “So, Itama was it?”

“Yeah. He’s got like brown hair with silver highlights and it’s not done well I can tell you that.” Sakura scoffed. “He said he recognised me because he’s seen me in the club.”

“Ah but everyone here goes to all the clubs. Your pink hair sticks out so he probably just remembered that.” Temari waved her hand and looked at Sakura before smirking. “Was he cute though?”

“I mean..he was actually pretty cute...in a boyish charming kinda way.” All the girls had wide smiles on their faces.

“Will Sakura finally find the one?!” Ino shrieked.

“Is this Kyo club makeout boy?!” Tenten added.

“Will Sakura go on dates again?!” Temari furthered the questioning.

“Stay tuned to find out!” Hinata closed the statements clapping her hands together. It was followed by her kind smile and all the girls laughing- the atmosphere was light and warm between them. The girls, all 5 of them, shared a strong bond.

Sakura smiled at their jokes, but she also knew they genuinely wanted her to be happy. All of them understood how hard it was for Sakura to engage in meaningful conversations with boys; her anxiety and defenses would instantly go up if a boy approached her on campus. Which was why they were all so interested in ‘Kyo club makeout boy’ who Sakura -though very drunk and out of it -chose to instigate a hot kissing battle with.

However happy they were for her -and she was appreciative of this, don’t mistake that - it was hard to see herself dating again. It was a scary thing to think about, even though deep down she wanted to fall in love, again. She missed being in love, and the last time she was - she was unlucky.

There was a knock at Sakura’s door.

“Just come in!” Sakura yelled from her desk spilling with notes from lectures. The door opened revealing Ino in her flowery satin nightdress.

“Almost done?” The blonde sat on Sakura’s double bed that was messily covered in her grey covers detailed with white and pink sakura trees. Looking at Sakura - who was dressed in her oversized Neck deep tee - Ino could see she was stressed; but this was often how Sakura looked. It worried Ino.

“Yeah - I’ll get to bed soon.” Sakura muttered, completely focused on her assignment. Scribbling away, her desk lamp was bright and boring into her papers and laptop screen; her jade eyes were tired and her eyelids weighed heavy. She sighed. She wasn’t taking care of herself with all of these late nights.

She was tired of feeling this way.

“Do you need me to stay? Ino asked. “I can’t really sleep either... I’m just feeling a little off as well.” Sakura turned to look at her, not sure what she was saying.

“Yeah..of course. What’s..wrong?” Sakura asked, turning around from her work. Ino shuffled uncomfortably and crossed her legs on the bed. Had Sakura been so caught up in her own head that she completely ignored her best friend? Was Ino hiding it well or was Sakura that selfish?

“The whole talk earlier about Shikamaru...it just made me uncomfortable.” Ino paused. Sakura had completely forgotten and internally facepalmed herself. “I don’t like him that way. And you know how I feel about relationships.” The issue here was that Ino didn’t want to settle down, and Sakura would often bring up relationships to Ino - about how Ino should get in a relationship. Sakura knew that her friend was a strong and confident person, but had taken that for advantage and pressed on Ino’s insecurities.

“Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have projected my own wants of being in a relationship onto you..” Sakura muttered, guilt strung in her words. Her head was swirling and she felt horrible. Why was she such a bad friend? People always had to support her, people always had to help her, and she couldn’t even keep her own mouth shut. Why was Sakura such a fucking shit friend- and to Ino who had been there for her every step of the way.

“No it’s okay, I just felt weird talking about it and I know I won’t date him. I just don’t want to get into a relationship.” Sakura’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her head was heavy with guilt. “Hey, honestly don’t feel too bad about it at all. I came to also just sit with you. I knew you were uncomfortable too.”

Ino could pick up on Sakura’s discomfort, and Sakura couldn’t even do the same for her friend. She didn’t deserve Ino.

“Yeah. The whole Naruto thing kinda just made me space out.” Sakura ducked her head as she moved to sit next to her best friend. “It’s just...it hurts to think about it sometimes.”

“You know, I think if you tried to talk to him now he would be all for it. You know how much he cares about you. Heck he loves you as much as I do.” Ino’s head fell into Sakura’s neck to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

“Maybe one day I can. When I’m better.” Sakura muttered, wanting to believe it could happen. She wanted it to, but somewhere inside, she didn’t want it to.

“Well, when you’re feeling good, or bad, and on your best and worst days I’m here for you okay?” Ino smiled reassuringly.

“I know.” Sakura smiled in response. “I...I also emailed welfare for a session…its in 2 days” Ino jumped up and looked at her friend.

“You did?” Sakura nodded smiling. “I’m so proud of you! That’s a really big step! I can’t wait” Sakura was met with a loving hug and giggled in response. “I am so proud of you. I’m coming with you okay?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I am.”

Sakura thanked Ino. That night, Ino slept on Sakura’s bed to make sure Sakura slept alright and that she would feel at ease falling asleep. Ino missed being at peace with her best friend, and she just wanted the best for Sakura.

There were no other two best friends like those two.

She doesn’t even know why she’s here at this point. Why did she volunteer to do this?

Sakura groaned internally, her back against the wall. She was standing in the hall filled with college students, and she was lined up on the sides of the hall with other volunteers. She slept pretty late last night, but she was glad she managed to get sleep anyway. The anxiety and self-deprecating thoughts always snuck their way into her head when she wanted to find peace in slumber; but she felt like she deserved it anyways.

It was just exhausting.

“Oh I think he’s finally about to end his speech.” Shisui spoke.

“Finally.” Itama yawned. “We gotta gather the students and call the groups after this.” Itama looked at Sakura, expecting an answer from his group partner. She was looking at Izuna presenting, but her mind seemed elsewhere.

“Honestly, Madara talks a lot, but Izuna can go on forever. At least Madara is able to get straight to the bush rather than beat around it.” Shisui huffed. “Don’t know how Sasuke and you dealt with uncle Izuna over summer.”

Sakura woke up. Sasuke?

Itachi noticed.

“We were fine. It wasn’t hard.” Itachi shrugged his shoulders.

“And now your tour shall start. The volunteers will bring you around campus and the facilities - they’ll call you by name so when they do please stand up and come on stage.” Izuna closed signalling a thumbs up.

“Aight, that's our cue Sakura.” Itama nudged her with a grin.

He had such a boyish grin, Sakura thought.

“Lets round up the kids.” She joked, a more confident part of her showing. Itama looked at her, amused.

Gathering their group, Sakura felt a little out of place. She had to remind herself to be confident, to just go with it, and that she would be fine. A little speaking wouldn’t hurt her and she chose to do this, so she had to live up to it.

“So here we have our main cafeteria. Conveniently close to the Student Union, so it’ll be easy to grab lunch.” Sakura walked the students through the food hall. It was large and circular shaped, and it smelled like damn good food.

“It’ll be easy unless you’re studying art.” Itama joked. “Which none of y’all are, so it’ll be an easy quick lunch!” he winked, earning him a laugh from the younger people. Sakura smiled. This Itama boy had charm, that much she knew. “Alright so that concludes the main campus. We’ve just got the facilities left in our building.” he led the way.

Itama was so confident, and so happy. He carried himself so well and just by the way he walked, you knew he was someone whose company people enjoyed.

“Oh yeah we’re passing the main Law building, if any of you were interested in what’s that big old rusty building. It’s the Law building. Just one of their buildings.” Itama pointed to a very wide and stretched out red brick build.

Laughs, and a lot of them.

“They like you.” Sakura noted, walking by Itama’s side. She peered to see his reaction which wasn’t any less than what she expected from the boy. A toothy grin. He may be older, but sometimes she swore he was 15.

“I’m just a likable guy haha! They like you too, you know. You speak very well.” he replied pointing backwards to their walking group of students.

“Oh no, I really don’t.” He looked at her with a really-bitch-? Face. “Alright, I guess..yeah I can speak quite well. But I’m not as confident as you.”

“What? Really? You seem really confident to me.” That earned him a sweet laugh. He suddenly felt a jump in his stomach.

“I’m not. I can be, but I doubt myself a lot.” They were close to the building entrance. “You also don’t really know me.” She pointed out, opening the doors to their building.

“Okay everyone, we’ll take you to labs first.” Itama announced to the buzzing group, before turning to Sakura. “Well then, can I get to know you?” he swung his phone out.

“Did you get her number?” Shisui asked, slinging an arm around his two friends.

Itama looked at the pink haired girl across the lecture hall.

“No, I didn’t.”

87 notes · View notes

poeticblissme · 5 years

Text

Into the New year

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Prompt: Fireworks can bring anyone closer together, in the best way.

Word Count: 3,015 ( Honestly, I did not think it got to 3k I shocked myself)

Warnings: Fluff, Smut,unprotected Sex BE SAFE PLEASE.

A/N: Sheesh I have not written in so so long lol, I have to get back into the groove of things but I wanted to post this because it took me FOREVER to write this. I hope it’s not bad

I want to personally thank @gimmesumsuga @kpopfanfictrash @underthejoon @floralseokjin @btssmutgalore @iq-biased @yoonia have read many of their works, and I pushed myself to finally write a BTS one shot due to the confidence I gained from their writing. I am no where NEAR their writing level as I am new to BTS fan-fiction, but I did enjoy making this.

I hope my Marvel followers enjoy my BTS fics as much as my Marvel ones. Thank you beauties for inspiring me <3 Please check out their writing. Feedback is appreciated <3 <3

There was something immensely magical about the coming of the new year. Perhaps it was the prospect of a fresh start, that idea on its own gave hope to endless new opportunities to live life better than you had before. It could also be the thought of having a new year to gradually build more of what you had physically and emotionally constructed over the last few years. All in all, despite the many hardships you have faced through your life, ending one year and walking into the next was a pleasant balance of past and present, and you intended to make most of the time you were given to enjoy it.

That was why you took so much pride in getting the chance to spend the opening of this year with the love of your life. To you, this was the perfect introduction into a new and fruitful year, a year that you wanted to share and enjoy with the person who meant the most to you.

You made a mental note to thank your boyfriend for taking you to view the end of the year fireworks. It was so considerate how he took into account how much you wanted to see the full cascade of lights in full view, since it was something you never got the chance to see in person. The fact he remembered the conversation you had from months ago at all tugged at your already extremely delicate heartstrings.

You had explained to him how as a child, your parents were always very busy. Being the workaholics that they were, it prevented either of them from taking you, no matter how much pleaded. You never really had time for family events, or regular boding time that most other family’s had, so you had to occupy your time with things around the flat, or make your own form of entertainment. You also explained how the apple truly did not fall far from the tree, seeing as how after you grew up and moved out, you spent every year watching the show from different television screens in the office you were employed at, due to pulling endless amounts of overtime at your job.

This year however, was a sweet change. You had received a text from your boss, stating how a very sweet young man named Park Jimin had sent an email, (A very professional email at that) requesting that you be given new years eve off, and he had graciously accepted the offer with out hesitation. Your boss was aware of how hard you always worked, in fact, he took pride in every once of heart and soul you put into anything you did. His decision was very easy to make, and he made sure you understood that. That was what got you here today, at the edge of the open field, awaiting for the show to officially begin.

“I still can’t believe you emailed my boss for this.” You spoke, slipping your left hand into his right, leaning your head to rest on his shoulder.

Jimin let out a small chuckle at your comment. “Hey, this was something I had planned for months, there was no way I was going to allow you to go to work after all the planning I did for this.”

You knew he was telling the truth, from the fancy breakfast, afternoon brunch, and evening dinner, you knew he had to have reserved most of places you had gone to months in advance. The whole day was spent enjoying each others company, all the while having nice relaxing settings to accompany the pleasant presence of two people who were very much in love.

“Well, I am very grateful for everything you have done today.” You spoke, lifting your head to stare at him. “Really Jimin, I have had such an amazing time today, I don’t think I have felt this good in a while.”

Jimin turned to look at you, a playful smile resting on his perfectly formed face. “Well, I don’t know if I should be more flattered or upset, does this mean you did not like any time we have spent together in the past?”

You huffed in fake annoyance, hitting the hand that rested in his pocket. “You know what I was trying to say you jerk.”

Jimin smiled, the playful look now replaced with genuine love and appreciation. “Yeah, I do.”

You had opened your mouth to respond, when you could see a small flicker of light shoot up from behind the cascade of tress before you. It ascended quickly, and before your eyes, it exploded, pushing forward streams of bright orange lights, which with time passing turned into a bright pink hue of lights that disappeared withing mere seconds.

Soon, another stream of light shot up from the tips of threes, ascending up into the sky, only this time, when you could see it exploding, it turned into streams of bright green, soon disappearing into a hue of a light off white color.

You looked to the sky in awe, as many other colors and shapes formed in the sky, each disappearing and making room for even more exploding colors seconds after. The rainbow lights captured your full attention, the sound of a far yet close blast and pop filling your ears. You never imagined feeling this happy or excited at such a small magical moment, but you could not hold on to the emotions that flowed out of you.

This was everything you had ever wanted, it may have been a small request, seeing something as simple as fireworks, but being able to see something in person for the first time, paired with getting to share such a moment with someone who truly loved you, who knew the things that plagued your mind, who listened to you when times got to be too much, or not enough, was a beautiful gift. Jimin was always that man for you, he was such a loving man, he quickly became the one who you leaned on and trusted because he supported you through the good and bad days. Jimin was there through them all, and you loved him for it.

“It’s so beautiful.” You spoke in a whisper, you eyes still taking in the scene before you and enjoying you memories, like a child seeing a candy store for the first time.

“It truly is.” You heard from next to you. You knew Jimin had seen the fireworks before, but to see his reaction for yourself, and not having to depend on his worded visuals of his experience, was something you knew you should not take for granted.

When you had turned to see him however, you noticed that his eyes were not on the show itself, but they were turned onto you. You watched as his eyes trailed up and down you body, taking in every crevice and freckle on your person. You could feel the heat rising to you cheeks, while your heart began beating a lot faster than before.

“It seems you have caught me staring, Y/N.” Jimin spoke, his lips turning into his signature Cheshire smile. “You really are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”

“And You really are the sweetest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” You responded, turning your body so your eyes finally fully locked with Jimin’s. His eyes scanned yours with interest, and you noticed how his pupils seems much darker, more determined. You decided to taken in his person as a whole, the tight dark blue jeans he wore complimented the soft black sweater that hugged his neck ever so lightly. You could feel your his arm clench at your words, and that only made you long for him more. He was always so humble, never knowing how to take a proper compliment. You were the same in some aspects, but with him, the love you have for him is so deep, so pure, you could not help but feeling of a longing presence creep to the crevice of your core.

You felt your legs tighten, the desire growing almost out of no where. However, you could feel that with the mixture of the feeling of this holiday, mixed with the admiration and love you held for Jimin, was becoming too much for your body to handle. You felt the love and the needs churning deep inside of you, and you could not help but bite your lip, the full force of pleasure and want settling in the pit of your stomach, and pushing to the surface of your body.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jimin asked, his voice deep and inviting. You watched as his attention turned to your lips, and you could not help but notice his tongue dart out across his own. How was he always this hot? I mean you knew he was hot but damn...sometimes he really was a bit too irresistible.

“I did, but it seems my...attention has somewhat, changed. I do enjoy this, but I have some other scenery in mind.” You spoke, your eyes traveling from his down to the space between your bodies, eyeing the growing erecting that poked the inside of his jeans.

“Is that so?” He asked, turning his body to now fully face yours. “Then lets go home my love, I have the last of our plans to carry out ya know.”

The ride home was filled with anxious tension. You, the desperate woman who would do anything and everything to experience the girth of cock spreading your walls apart like no other. Then Jimin, the dominant male, who wants nothing more than to make you beg and plead for him. He knows how badly you want it, he knows how much you loved to be filed by his precious member, and he remembers how far you were willing to go, just to get it.

Entering your apartment was a silent praise to the Gods on your part. Your lips refused to leave his, even as clothes lifted from various body parts and ended up on a undisclosed location on the floor. You were practically sweating in anticipation, knowing what was coming next. You were never more desperate for anything in your life.

You could feel Jimins body press against yours. The heat of his skin, the touch of his soft hands against your bare thighs.

You could not control the moans that escaped your mouth as you got to your bed, it was like something had taken over you. You felt confident, loved, powerful. You knew if you pushed enough, if you gave him what he wanted, Jimin would give you what you wanted. He was whipped for you, and you knew exactly how to use that to your advantage, enough to pleasure the both of you.

“God, I cant enough of you.” He whispered to you, his lips close to the tip of your ear. “You’re like the gift that keeps on giving.”

You smiled at his sweet words, and let your self fall back onto the silk covers of your mattress, your hands slinking into the back of his hair. Your fingers clenched hard taking in bits of his hair on the back of his head and earning a deep groan from him, indicating his liked everything you were doing.

“You like that baby?” You asked sweetly, Your voice was slightly shaking giving off the impression you were not as confident as you made yourself out to be. You hoped Jimin had not noticed, but by the smirk on his face as he lifted to level with you own, you knew that was not the case.

“Oh I do indeed Y/N, however, I think you will like this much more.”

He dipped down to your chest area, The black lace bra you had concealing your breasts now became nothing more than a mere memory as Jimin unclasped the confines and threw the bothering piece of clothing to the floor.

“Much better.” He whispered, bringing his lips down onto the free nipple, making your back arch in approval.

He licked the precious nipple of your right breast, taking it in his teeth and nipping ever so lightly. He would switch every now and again, giving attention to both tits eagerly. The feeling of utter arousal shot down to your core, making your body shiver in approval. Your breathing began to quicken, you needed more, more than he was currently giving you.

“Jimin.” You pleaded, sounding so desperate, so needy. “Please, please Jimin please....”

“Please what, kitten.” He responded, knowing what he was doing to you, what he was making you feel. He wanted you to beg, to plead for his cock, to tell him he was the only one you wanted, that he was the only thing he needed.

“Please Jimin” You whined, knowing what he needed to hear. “I need your cock so bad, I need to fill me up and show me who I belong to..I need you so bad baby, please.”

“That’s a good kitten.” He speaks, rising from your left breast to look down between your bodies and palm his cock between you.

He presses his tip just outside your entrance, his voice straining in his throat as he speaks out to speak to you. “Are you ready for daddy?”

Approval. He always needed that approval, as if being inside you was a privilege, as if the mere thought of being this close to you was a mere dream. Each time, he would ask the same question, and each time, you would give him the same answer.

“Always, my precious king.”

He groaned in approval, and with your final words of consent, he entered you, finally making your body’s one form, one being, one piece of an infinite whole.

“Always so wet, so tight and ready for me.” Jimin spoke aloud, his body still, giving you time to adjust to his body.

You wanted to respond, but the feeling of his cock inside of you was beginning to drive you mad. It always felt this good when he was inside of you, It was like his body was your addiction. His body had the power of providing never ending of pleasure. You needed more, you needed something, anything to have more.

“God, Jimin, move, shit please me move daddy.” You pleaded, the need taking over your thoughts.

“You’re so needy, I fucking love it.” He groaned, pulling out of you slowly, then fulfilling your request with several hard thrusts.

His strokes became hard and precise, each stroke out and in a pressing direct attack on your insides in the best way possible. You could feel your eyes roll in the back of your head, the feelings to much for you to process.

“Holy fu-Fuck, Jimin, fu-fuck yes.” You stuttered, following the pattern of his thrusts.

“Holy Fuck yeah baby, holy shit yeah, fuck yes, tighten around daddy just like that, shit-, just like that, let me feel you kitten.” He spoke, his voice deep and dark. The lust had finally taken over both of you, leaving you both a heaving pie of mess, the need to feel more and more an obsession deep inside the combined raging souls.

“You feel so good daddy.” You whined, pushing your hips down, forcing a hard slap of your skin against his.

“Your Pussy is so fucking tight baby.” He responded with a grunt, still pounding into you with all he had. “No matter how many times I stretch out this delectable cunt, it always gets tighter, how does it always get tighter? Holy fuck you have a gift baby.”

You moaned at his words, your body clenching even tighter. You were getting close, you could feel it. There was too much to feel, to much to savor, to much to enjoy. You were falling more and more into a state of bliss and you could not control your thoughts, you movements. Al you wanted to do was let go, you were so close, so so close.

You had to tell him, to let him know that it was almost over, that you wanted to take this feeling to the edge with him at your side. What with the push of his hips, and the sound of his voice flowing back and forth in your ear made you suddenly became mute, you could only speak through your moans, through your cries of pleasure. The veins of his cock slid against your walls repeatedly, sending you into a frenzy, your a moans increased in volume fully showing how Jimin made a complete mess of the strong woman you once were.

“Ohh fu-fu-fuk....Jimin, oh jimin.” You sighed out, your body so ready to let go.

“I know baby.” Jimin called out, as if he knew what you were feeling, as if he knew what you were trying to say. “I know I know, god I know, keep going baby, just a little more, stay with me.”

His words motivated you to regain your focus, if not for just a bit longer. You wanted to to end this with him, and if it meant torturing yourself for these last few seconds, than so be it. You would do anything for him, and you would do anything to let go and feel complete with Jimin following close behind.

“Yes Y/N.” Jimin sighed, his thrusts becoming more frantic and fast paced. “Fuck Y/N, I fucking love your juicy pussy, come for me right now baby, please come now, holy fuck.”

You moaned out, your moans loud and whiny against the walls of your bedroom. Jimins moans bounced around the room, mixing with yours and creating a euphoric poem of finished escapades.

You rode out your high together, letting the last of your lustful desires dye down as you remained in each others arms.

“What a way to enter the new year, huh?”

“I gotta say Jimin.” You started, your breaths uneven. “This has been my favorite intro in to the new so far, I’ve never been more motivated.”

#Park Jimin #Park Jimin Smut #Park Jimin x Reader #park jimin oneshot #Park jimin imagine #Jimin #Jimin smut #Jimin x Reader #Jimin one shot #jimin imagine #bts fanfic #BTS one shot #BTS smut #BTS imagine #BTS Jimin

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letsimportanttreecollection-blog · 6 years

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