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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

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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 😘

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#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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enbyprentiss · 3 years

Text

Just for the record...

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Spencer x GN!Reader

Warnings: none that i can think of:)

a/n: heyo! this fic is very loosely based on me. mostly the fact that my first job was in a local record store and my music taste. there are no physical descriptions of reader at all. okok i have to finish writing this now but um i hope you like it!<3

(oh and it’s lightly inspired by this post and this one)

Spencer didn’t leave his house often. For many reasons. Germaphobia, social awkwardness, and the whole ‘anyone could be a serial killer and could be targeting me’ thing, just to name a few. But this, this he could handle. After all, he’s been here before. And it was a painless process. Nice, even. Going to a record store is like going to a book store, right? Well, maybe not. But as far as he’s concerned, investing in vinyls was one more easy way to reject modern technology. So, he covered his hand with the sleeve of his cardigan quickly before pulling the door open. The store wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t packed either. Though, it was crowded enough to turn Spencer off of the idea of wandering aimlessly through the aisles of stacked up records. He hesitantly walked up to the counter with an older man standing behind it.

“E-excuse me? I was wondering where I could find um--”

The man cut him off with a shout, “Y/N?!”

The door of what he could only assume was a storage room swung open and Y/N stepped out carrying a box.

“Do me a favor, help this guy out, alright?”, he explained while they tripped slightly over their Docs.

“You got it, boss.”, they smiled with a click of their tongue.

Spencer’s mind raced a million miles a minute looking at the person standing in front of him. Because they were definitely not here the last time he was. And now, he knew his face was probably bright red and that did not help with the seemingly awkward silence or the stuttering.

“Y-you know what? I-i-it’s fine, I c-can find it myself. You ju--um, y-you loo-k busy.”, the words struggled to fall from his lips.

But instead of laughing or brushing him off, Y/N just smiled and tried to reassure him, “No, it’s totally fine. In fact, it’s uh kinda my job.”, they giggled.

And even though he had just met this magnificent stranger thirty seconds ago, he would do anything to hear them laugh again. But instead, like the idiot he had deemed himself as, he choked up and all the words died on his tongue.

“Soooo, what’s up? How can I help?”

“Right--um I’m looking for ‘Metallica’.”

“Like, just the band in general or the album?”

“T-the album. But it’s f-fine if you guys don’t have it or something!”

“Don’t worry, we totally have it. And I know we do because I just stocked ‘em up an hour ago.”, they drummed their fingers on the edge of the counter happily before hopping over it. They motioned for Spencer to follow as they began to walk to the back of the store.

“Metallica, huh?”, those two little words broke Spencer out of his trance, and now that they had, he felt like an absolute creep for just staring at them.

“Hm?”

“Oh no, you just--don’t seem like the type. You strike me as more of a...Mozart type of guy."

"I am--usually."

"Really? Then what makes today so...unusual, Doc?", they turned around for a split second to see the confusion on his face, "You're wearing an ID badge on your shirt.", Y/N smiled and pointed in the general direction.

"Oh.", he looked down at his badge from over two years ago and was now horribly embarrassed by the photo on it, "Well, nothing's unusual per se, I just thought I could try something new--or not new, but something I haven't heard in a while."

They finally stopped at the very back wall of the shop and Y/N pulled a small ladder towards themselves so that they could reach the higher shelves. They pulled one of the records down, stepping off of the ladder and handing it to Spencer with a smile. Y/N's banter came to a sudden stop as they heard a few notes echoe through the store, granted, they were faint, but there nonetheless. Spencer watched as they turned down another one of the aisles.

"Hon, you know I love seeing you come in every day, but we've been over this. We have headphones next to the players for a reason, ok?", they handed a pair of headphones to the man and patted him on the shoulder before leading Spencer back up to the front.

Spencer could feel his anxiety building more and more as Y/N shuffled some things around on the counter in attempt to clear some space and organize at the same time. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous around them--yes he did. Even with his eidetic memory, he couldn't think of anyone who was as beautiful and captivating as them. And in attempt to ease his anxiety, he did what he does best, share his infinite amount of knowledge.

"Did you know that an early mechanical cash register was invented following the American Civil War?"

"No, no I did not. I am intrigued though, tell me more?"

"It was invented by two men--James Ritty and John Birch to be specific. James was the owner of a saloon in Dayton, Ohio and wanted to stop his employees from pilfering his profits. So, 'The Ritty Model' was invented in 1879 after he saw a tool that counted the revolutions of propellers on steamships. And with the help of John, who also happened to be his brother, they patented it in 1883, calling it 'Ritty's Incorruptible Cashier. The uh--the one you guys have here doesn't seem too much older, it was probably made around 1909, if I had to guess."

"Wow--", Y/N smiled and took the cash from his hand, "You must come here often if you recognize our cash register."

"You'd think so, right?", he huffed out a laugh, "This is only my second time here actually, I've just never seen one like that in D.C. before, and I--um-I have a lot of random facts floating around.", as he spoke, he watched Y/N scribble something down on a piece of paper and then carefully place the bills in the register.

"Well, hopefully I see you here more often.", they beamed and handed him the album.

They exchanged a 'thank you' and goodbyes before Spencer started his walk home. As he pulled his cardigan closer to his body, he noticed a small paper that was tucked inside the cover, flapping in the wind. He pulled the paper out slowly, written on it was ten digits and a small message scribbled beneath them.

‘Call me sometime:), xo--Y/N’

Taglist: @slut-for-mothman @converse-spence @purplewaterbottles082 @muffin-cup

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crowtrinkets · 3 years

Text

Your Weary Widow Marches

A Gender Neutral MCxFelix fic in which our dear barista educates their teacher and shows him some music from their home.

I’ve never really written fanfiction before but I thought Id give it a shot. The formatting looks weird on my end so if it looks weird after posting I apologize I couldn’t figure it out. Hope you enjoy!

—-

The crackling fire and pages being turned were the only sounds heard for the past few hours. Felix and I sat on either side of a couch placed in Anisa’s office silently reading our respective books. I’ve been in Astraea for nearly a week and had I known that Felix’s teaching method would be done via reading books the size of an encyclopedia I probably would have chosen Sage or Anisa instead... probably

I glance up at Felix, he’s sitting with legs crossed slouching on the arm rest of the couch, glasses on and enthralled in his book. I'm leaning with my back against the arm rest facing Felix, peering at him from behind my knees. I watch as his eyes scan the pages, partially hiding behind my book so he doesn’t notice me stare. I rub my eyes, dry from the endless reading of Astraean history. I know plenty of history and lore from this world thanks to countless hours of playing Last Legacy and stalking forums, but I don’t think I could’ve convinced Felix of that without having to explain what video games are let alone the internet. He thought if I were to learn magic I should at least know part of its history and it’s contribution to their society.

Despite spending some time with Felix I'm still amazed at the attention span he has for reading. I scan the room trying not to move too much lest I be scolded by the warden. I glance over at the high back chair across the room. The one Anisa sat me in after my jaunt through Felix’s portal and painfully onto Anisa's desk. My mind begins to wander.

I’ve only been here a short time but I feel like I’ve adjusted well. I wonder what's happening on Earth. Does time pass the same at home like how it does in this realm? World? Alternate universe? I still don’t exactly know how to explain my predicament. Has anyone noticed I'm gone yet? I wonder if I’m on the missing persons list, someone at work will have noticed I didn’t show up for my shifts. I cringe slightly at that last thought, my open book now resting on my chest. Ah damn it, I’m definitely fired aren’t I. How am I gonna pay my bills.... and my home, I miss my bed....my plants. SHIT MY PLANTS. I bring my hand to my face and cringe, my beloved house plants they’re going to wither away in my absence. Fate is such a cruel mistress.

“Bored of reading are we?” I slightly jump at Felix’s comment. I bring my hand down and look at him. Staring at me through his glasses a smirk on his lips. I flush slightly and close my book.

“No I just, got to thinking about Earth, and my life, I guess I’m just a little home sick,” I mumble out those last words. I want to be honest with Felix but I don’t want him beating himself up for my situation. I mean yes he is the reason I’m stuck here but I don't hate him for it. Felix frowns and closes his own book.

“Ah... I am sorry about that, I-“ I sit up interrupting him.

“No no no, I'm not mad at you, I’m actually quite enjoying my time here. I mean I don’t have to make drinks for annoying customers everyday here,” I force a laugh but it comes out awkwardly. Felix gives me a quizzical look. I then realize, with the amount of times he calls “dear barista” I just assumed he knew what it meant. “Yknow, my job? A barista?” Felix flushes and avoids looking at me.

“I must admit.. I do not actually know what that is,” I cant help but chuckle, the great necromancer Felix, is embarrassed to not know something.

“Well my dear teacher," I emphasize the word teacher mimicking the way he calls me, "allow me to educate you on some Earth information,” I sit cross legged and scoot closer to him book in my lap. Felix adjusts to face me properly and removes his glasses. I clear my throat and smile at him. “My part time occupation of being a Barista, requires me to make drinks for customers and sell them, more often I make coffee but sometimes people order tea. We sell pastries as well,” Felix gives me yet another confused look.

“All you do is prepare drinks and flakey confectioneries?” I nod in response with a smile, I can only imagine what he assumed a Barista was. Felix chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, “All this time I thought it was something more complicated, you described your customers as being annoying? I am assuming you do not like this particular job?”

“Well, I don't hate it but the customers can get a little rude and for the dumbest reasons too. One time a woman threw her drink at me claiming I added 3 1/2 shots of espresso and rather than 3,” I laugh to my self looking back at the memory, chuckling more when I see Felix’s horrified expression.

“A woman... threw a drink at you? Because she deemed it made incorrectly? I did not except Earth customs to be so. . . Barbaric,” Felix looks at me astonished and confused but all I can do is laugh. “And why are you laughing? Are you alright did she hit your head when she assaulted you with a beverage?” Felix is now standing while I clutch my stomach in pain, the combination of the story and Felix’s confusion is too much to bare. After a minute I manage to calm down enough to speak.

“No no, she did not hit me in the head, I’m just laughing cause it was funny, well at the time it wasn’t but my co workers took pictures and I looked ridiculous. I can laugh about it now,” I wipe a stray tear from my eye as I recount the experience. Thank god her drink was iced.

“Picture?” Felix chimes in. I try to think of how to explain how photography works but I come up with an idea.

“Why don’t I show you?” I stand handing Felix my book and I jaunt over to Anisa’s desk. I let her peruse my backpack because she seemed so interested in my “Earthly items” as she called them. I walked back over and sit on the floor, patting the ground next to me so Felix can join.

“You known there is a perfectly good sofa right next to you, I don’t understand why you wish to sit on the ground like we are mere children,” but despite his protests Felix sits next to me still clutching our books. I rummage through my back tossing the other items to the side. My wallet, a flyer, a jacket, that granola bar which has definitely crumbled to pieces in its package. Until I finally find it, my phone. My first night here I instinctively tried to use it, forgetting I am now stuck in a world without wifi or cell towers. In an effort to hopefully conserve its battery I hard shut off my phone I did not think I would need it but now is an opportunity for me to educate Felix about my world rather than his and tell him a little about myself. Really I just want a reason to prolong my time from reading anymore history. I hold the power button and silently pray. Please have some battery left, please please. Felix is leaning towards me, his face inching closer to mine, I glance at him studying his expression. He looks confused, and curious at the same time, there's a slight scrunch in his brow like he’s trying to seem like he understands what I’m doing, but I know he doesn’t. In that moment his eyes meet mine, I turn my head to fully face him, a blush creeps up his face and I can feel mine begin to warm as well. “Felix-“

BING

We both jump at the sound of my phone turning on. Damn phone, well I guess I kinda asked for that. Felix sits back and clears his throat.

“Um, what, what is that?” His voice wavers slightly but I choose to ignore it to save him some dignity.

“Its my phone, on Earth nearly everyone has one of these. You can use it to communicate with other people, take pictures, look things up, and listen to music.” I begin to unlock it and open my photo album.

“You can communicate with other people? On this... this flat brick?” Felix points accusatory at my phone the scrunch in his eyebrows have intensified creating deep crevices on his forehead. I nod while I scroll through trying to find the photo.

“Yup and take pictures, such as this one,” I turn my phone to face Felix revealing the image documenting the after affects of being assaulted with coffee. He leans over to get a better look. In the picture I'm standing by the cash register, soaked through my clothes in an extra large coffee's amount of liquid. The brown liquid stains my apron and the parts on my white shirt poking out from underneath. There's smeared whipped cream going across my shoulder up my neck and partially along my jaw, and the scowl on my face could kill a man. The instant I show the picture to Felix he plants a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He turns away in an attempt to hide his amusement but I know he wont last.

“Im-I must apologize I did not mean to laugh but, but the look on your face is hilarious,” Felix faces me again trying to hide his smile with the back of his hand. I start to chuckle, I turn the phone back to me and swipe to the next picture. Its a similar picture but in this one my co worker put whipped cream on top of my head, something about it “completing the look”. When I show this picture to Felix it breaks his terrible attempt of remaining poise. He laughs loudly, and it’s extremely contagious. I laugh along with him reminiscing in his beautiful laugh. Every once in a while we calm down until we look at the picture and we start up again. After a bit I’m able to calm down enough to speak.

“Don’t feel bad for laughing, at the time I was pissed but my co workers cheered me up and now I have these memories to laugh at,” I start to look through my album again as Felix calms down from his laughing high. I find more pictures to show him. Some are of me at work with my co workers, one picture of me laughing as I held a dog that jumped through the drive through window. I show him more pictures, some are of earth sunsets which Felix claimed to look like they belong in a painting. I also show him a picture of some Geese I saw while on a walk, and then a picture of said Geese chasing me. This gets Felix to laugh again but not as hard.

“You lead an interesting life on Earth, it seems similar to Sage you are also prone to provoke others into attacking you,” I roll my eyes at Felix’s joke and give him a friendly shoulder bump. Its at this moment I realize how close he’s sitting. Our books set aside and Felix is leaning on one arm politely looking over my shoulder at my phone, I can tell he doesn’t really understand how it works but it seems he’s enjoying this moment to much to ask. In an attempt to keep the sweet moment I change the subject.

“Hey do you want to listen to some Earth music?” With a nod from Felix I close the app and instinctively go to press my streaming app. Damn no Internet. I think for a second and remember I have some music I bought in times before streaming apps existed. I find the app and open it. Dear god my taste was cringey. I scroll through the songs until I stumble across a less than embarrassing song. “This is a classic where I come from, everyone has heard this song at least once. I lay back onto the floor so I can properly listen to the music. Felix looks at me and awkwardly lays down as well, I click on the song allowing it to play.

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Felix gives me a puzzled look but I just shrug and look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and take in the song as it plays. If I concentrate hard enough I can imagine my self back on Earth. Sitting in my room listening to 80s music while I do laundry or cook my dinner. I start to feel nostalgic again but I try not let my emotions take over. The song ends and I pause it before it plays the next song. I roll onto my side and rest my head on my hand.

“So what’d you think?” I beam at Felix, I genuinely want to know what he thinks of Earth music, and more specifically a song that I am quite fond of. Felix is laying flat on his back, he ankles crossed and his hands laying on his chest. He looks nervous to be laying on the ground next to me but has made no attempts to leave.

“I thought it was... interesting to say the least. It had quite a captivating story although I was confused when the subject changed multiple times, and what exactly are they trying to “not stop believing” in” Felix does air quotes and seems genuinely enthralled in the “story” of the song. I smile and start to look for another song.

“How about you choose the next one?” I tilt my phone towards him. Felix sits up at my question.

“I dont feel very well versed in Earth music though,” He mumbles. I shrug at his comment.

“Just pick one with a name that sounds interesting to you” I show Felix how to use the phone and hand it to him laying back down. I peek at Felix, he’s holding the phone in one hand and is scrolling with the other, he’s holding it like an old man. I watch his face, he’s thoroughly looking at every single song title and determining whether they are interesting or not. I find it... cute, his concentration face is cute. Oh if he caught me staring I know he would become a blubbering blushing mess, I mean I would be too. I close my eyes again as I wait for him to pick.

“This one seems interesting,” I hum in response, but when Felix says the title out-loud and panic seizes through me. I sit up and shout WAIT but I'm too late. He already pressed it. And then I hear it.

That dreaded, infamous G note. Felix turns towards me surprised and hastily hands the phone to me, I pause it before another note can play.

“Hells MC what will that song make my head explode or something??? You nearly made my heart stop.” Felix takes a deep breath with his hand on his chest.

“I'm sorry, that song its kind of embarrassing actually,” I can feel myself flushing, I look away in embarrassment at the fact that I had that song downloaded and the fact that I nearly sent my teacher into cardiac arrest.

“Embarrassing how?” Felix looks at me puzzled. I open my mouth to speak but then stop. Hold on a second, Felix doesn’t know this band, let alone what an emo phase is. Well judging by his raven skull necklace he does but not in the way I do. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if we listened to it. I do still like their music. But god did it HAVE to be this song. I clear my throat and look back at Felix.

“Nothing, it’s nothing I was just being dramatic,” I stifle a laugh. “We can listen to it, I actually quite like this band,” Felix nods and turns to face my direction, were now both sitting cross legged and I press play on the song. I smile a little as the song plays and close my eyes again. I cant even remember the last time I listened to this song. My mind begins to wander again, to my younger years when I first heard this song.

I was such a try hard back then, wanting so badly to “be different” but also to mend the emotional pain I was going through, and this band really helped me through it. This song is a little more narrative than the last one so I hope Felix would like it. I can’t believe I freaked out like I did god he must think I'm crazy, or maybe that lady really did hit my head when she threw that drink at me. As the song plays I silently hum to it, quiet enough so that Felix might not hear. I drink in the lyrics and instruments and it feels like I'm listening to it again for the first time.

The song ends and I open my eyes again to pause the music before it plays another one.

“So what did you think of tha-“ before I can continue I'm stopped by the sight of Felix’s face. His eyes are misty and his nose is colored pink. Was he... was he crying? Felix looks at me and his eyes go wide. He quickly turns away and rubs at his face.

“There-there is quite a lot of dust on this floor, honestly you would think Annie would have any sense to clean in here every once in a while,” I cant help but smile, wow he really is a goth child.

“It’s ok Felix, this song makes me cry sometimes too,” Felix side eyes me and sniffles.

“I-I was not crying, yes I admit the song was... moving to say the least…. But, but I will not be mocked by you for my emotions,” Felix turns to face me again refusing to meet my eyes, his voice turning accusatory. I scoot closer to Felix and place a hand on his shoulder. He looks at me astonished and slightly flushed, either from the contact or the crying, I mean dust, I will never know.

“Congratulations” I say with a smile. Felix’s puzzled look twists even more.

“What ever are you talking about,” Felix questions.

“You’re emo now,”

#fictif games #fictif #fictif last legacy #last legacy fictif #last legacy #fictif felix #felix iskandar escellun #felix escellun #fictif sage #fictif anisa #crow writes

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ayoitsnic · 3 years

Text

Platonic! Sam x Reader x Dean

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger Warnings: None? Violence that's pretty typical for Supernatural

Summary: Sam and Dean found out they have a sister. They're very skeptical at first but upon meeting they find out that despite 2 totally different upbringings they have more in common than they expected.

*Disclaimer* I wouldn't normally describe y/n in fics but in this one I did so purposefully to show the similarities between the siblings. I've been told some people are a bit touchy on that.

Oh also this is the first fanfic I've ever written so I'd be happy with constructive criticism.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

'Shit' Y/N thought to herself as she was put through to her dad's voicemail. 'Wait....it said call his son....does that mean...? Wait do I have a brother he never told me about!?' Grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes she called again, this time hoping for voicemail so she could write that number down.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

She got his voicemail again, quickly scribbling down the number before hanging up and dialing it.

Sam and Dean were just finishing up a ghoul case in Indiana when Dean's phone began ringing in the glove compartment of the Impala. Reaching over from the driver's side Dean quickly found his phone, glancing at the caller ID "Unknown Number?" He questioned out loud. He assumed it was a scam caller, but answered it anyway just in case "Hello?"

"Is this Dean?" A female voice asked, sounding mostly nervous, but also just a teensy bit excited.

"Who's this?" Dean questioned skeptically, causing Sam to look over curiously from the passengers side

"I'm Y/N. I umm....this is gonna sound crazy but I'm your sister." She felt weird saying that. Until 5 minutes ago she was an only child. "I tried calling dad but it went straight to voicemail and said to call you if it was an emergency...I kind of need help.."

Shocked with the idea of possibly having a sister Dean pulled the car over to a screeching halt, putting the hazard lights on. He needed a minute to take that in. He put the phone on speaker so Sam could hear what was being said "No that's impossible. Dad already had one kid we didn't know about. No way he had a second." Dean said, obviously in denial.

"He what?" Y/N asked, a grin spreading across her face. Regardless of the circumstances that prompted this call, she was elated to find out she had more than one sibling

Realizing what he had just said, Dean shook his head "Nevermind. Where are you?" He asked as Sam began to flip through John's journal, looking for any hint that there might've been another Winchester out there. It didn't take long for him to find the missing pages not even halfway through the book. It would seem she was born long before Adam.

"I'm in the Poconos, in Pennsylvania." Y/N responded

"Okay well we're about 10 hours from there. We'll be there in the morning." Dean told her "Text me the address." The phone call ended and Y/N texted him the address. They weren't sure what the emergency was that she had to call their dad for but regardless of whether or not it was their kind of thing, Sam and Dean were definitely gonna haul ass to go meet this mystery woman.

The next day Sam and Dean found themselves in Northeast Pennsylvania before noon hit. When they finally reached their destination they realized that this woman had grown up so differently from them. She lived in one of those fancy gated communities. Well THEY considered it fancy. Y/N was used to it, but then again the bar wasn’t too high with the childhood Sam and Dean had. The houses were big, the yards green, you needed a pass from security to get in, the only thing missing were picket fences.

"Are we sure we aren't walking into a trap?" Sam asked Dean as they stood on the big white porch, ringing the doorbell. "Well if we are, we're certainly prepared." Dean had grabbed holy water and had his gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Sam, a little silver and the Demon killing knife. It wouldn't protect from /everything/ but it'd save them from most of their most common threats.

When Y/N opened the door you could definitely see the family resemblance between her and Sam. She was tall for a woman, standing around 5'10, had light brown, shoulder length hair. Her eyes though, those were a beautiful shade of green like Dean's. It was almost like looking in a mirror for the boys "Hey." She greeted, letting them in

"Which one of you did I speak to on the phone?" She questioned

"That would be me." Dean replied, raising his hand a bit "This is my brother Sam." Sam was still trying to get over the fact that it looked someone took him and hit copy/paste.

"Wow. Dad really got around didn't he?" She commented without thinking. "4 kids, good for him." Just like Adam whom Dean had very briefly mentioned the day before, John Winchester while still her father, wasn't in the picture that often. Sure he seemed like a cool guy the few times a year he would visit but they never really had a proper Father/Daughter connection. She did care about him, but at the end of the end of the day he was just a person she knew she could trust, hence she didn't think twice about making comments like that until she noticed the look on her brothers' faces when she said it. "Sorry, I want thinking when I said that." She quickly apologized, wanting to move on.

Upon entering, the whole house smelled like Palo Santo wood. She found the scent very calming. "Anyways it's a hell of a drive from Indiana. You hungry? I made pie." She offered.

Dean's face lit up at that "What kind?" He asked with a small grin

"Blueberry. It's my mom's recipe." Y/N replied as she motioned for them to sit at the kitchen table. While she took out a knife to serve the pie, Sam had swapped out her utensils for ones they knew were silver.

"So what was so important you felt the need to call us up here?" Sam asked. Y/N could already tell she liked Sam. He gave off good vibes.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before telling them "My cousin was found dead the other night. He had his throat ripped out. Cops say it was a Mountain Lion but it sounded like something that might interest Dad. Where is he by the way? I tried calling him a few more times and it just kept going straight to voicemail. Doesn't even ring."

Sam and Dean both looked a bit sad as they had to break the news that their father had passed away and had been dead for quite some time now. Upon hearing that, Y/N didn't really react. She wasn't sure how to. Of course she should've felt something because it was her father, but at the same time, as mentioned previously, he wasn't around a lot. He was absent for most of her life just like he was for Sam and Dean's. Sure he was there for the big stuff like birthdays, her high school graduation, or prom night where he let her drive up in the impala, but it was the small stuff she wanted him there for.

"So you know about the whole 'fighting monsters' thing then?" Dean asked as he splashed a small amount of holy water on her leg under the table. Sam kicked him under the table for even mentioning it. What was he thinking!? She didn't even notice the holy water but the question caused Y/N to look at him weird.

"What the hell are you talking about? Mom always said he was a fed." This almost forced Sam to hold in a chuckle.

Despite looks from Sam telling him it was a bad idea to tell her what they really do and that it was probably a vampire that killed her cousin, Dean told her anyway. They already made the mistake of not being totally upfront with Adam. Dean wasn’t making that mistake again "Yeah, okay." She chuckled dryly "You fight monsters. Sure you do." Like any sane person, she thought they were bullshitting. "Next you're gonna tell me you've found bigfoot out something." She said sarcastically

"Actually Bigfoot's one of the few things that isn't real." Dean told her with a smirk

"Tell ya what, you fight monsters?" She motioned towards her two brothers "Prove it. Show me these monsters. Let's go find the 'Vampire' " she said with finger quotations "that killed my cousin."

"Oh no no no." Sam finally spoke up "I was against telling you about what we do to begin with, but I'm drawing the line at having you go out on a hunt. You could really hurt. Or worse, killed."

"What is this, some bullshit male chivalry thing? Do you think women can't do the job?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no that has nothing to do with it." Sam quickly back tracked "It's just that you only found out today that monsters are real, you've never hunted before, and we don't want you getting hurt."

Y/N got quiet for a moment, contemplating how she wanted to respond to that. When she finally spoke, she leaned across the kitchen table and told the boys very calmly, like eerily calmly "He was my family. I'm going and we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice." It was loud and clear, in no uncertain terms that she would do anything for her family. That included killing vampires.

The group went silent again. Sam and Dean exchanged a few glances before Dean relented "Alright fine, but you follow our lead."

"Deal." Y/N nodded

It didn't take long to locate the vamp nest. Only a day or two. In that time Sam had given Y/N a full rundown of everything she'd need to know about Vampires. How they're nocturnal but that doesn't mean they can't wake up during the day, how the whole 'stake through the heart' thing doesn't actually work and you gotta cut the heads off, and how they normally live in groups.

Thankfully it was a small nest, only about 6 or 7 of them. When the 3 of them pulled up to the old, long abandoned Birchwood Resort, Dean popped the trunk revealing their weapons cache. Y/N looked surprised to see all that stuff, peeking over Dean's shoulder to get a better look. "I've never seen so many weapons in one place. That's awesome." She grinned as Dean handed her a machete. Sam looked at Dean, thinking to himself how similar she sounded to him.

"Alright, Sam and I are gonna go in. Stay out here and if you see any of them try to run out just chop the head off." Dean told her

"You're crazy if you expect me to stay out here and miss all the action." Y/N told Dean as she leaned against the side of her dad's car. She didn't care how long the old man had been dead. To her, that would always be his car. NOT Dean's. With a sigh, she looked up to the night sky and ran her fingers through her hair "Alright fine, whatever. You're the master. I'm just the padawan." She shrugged, kind of annoyed but not in the mood to argue. Sam chuckled at the Star Wars reference.

"This place is huge though." Y/N added "It's really easy to get lost in. You might be better off with someone who grew up here and is familiar with the area. I wonder where you could find someone like that." She hinted, as her and her friends would explore this place as teenagers. "I think we'll be okay." Sam declined. They really were set on having her outside. Thinking about it, she could definitely understand the decision. They'd probably see her as a liability.

Once Sam and Dean had found the nest, the massacre began. After killing half the nest Dean found himself pinned under a vamp, his weapon thrown across the room where he could reach it. "Sammy!!!!!" He called out but Sam was busy with 2 vampires of his own.

Outside Y/N had grown bored of waiting for the boys to return. How long did it take to kill a few 'Vampires'? 'Fuck it' she thought to herself 'I'm going in.' And that's exactly what she did. Looking around the place for her brothers she ran into 1 vampire. Too Easy. She cut the head off as it made a move to go after her. Looking at the decapitated head on the ground made her nauseated but she pushed on.

Before long she heard a commotion From inside one of the private cabins. Peeking through a window she saw the bad position they were in. Scared, and sick to her stomach she ran into the cabin. Swinging the machete in her hand she killed the vampire that had Dean pinned. It was a clean cut and came centimeters from Dean's throat.

He got up, grabbing his own machete to help out Sam. After the vamps were dead Y/N averted her gaze, trying to avoid looking at more dead bodies as she caught her breath.

"I thought we told you to wait outside!" Dean told her to which she instantly responded with "And I thought Sam said you guys would be okay on your own but I just had to come and save you. You should be thanking me."

With a sigh Dean nodded "Are you okay?" He asked, just making sure. "I'm fine. I'm covered in blood and I just killed 2 Vampires, but I'm fine." Despite the nausea, she grinned. The whole hunting thing wasn't supposed to be fun, but this was the most excitement she had in a long time. "Alright, I don't know about you guys but I would kill for a shower right now. If you want after that I know a great bar off main street. I could use a stiff drink."

Sam and Dean left 2 days later, having found a case in Virginia. "We are gonna keep in touch, right?" Y/N asked as Sam and Dean put their duffel bags in the Impala

"Of course we are." Dean agreed while Sam added his contact info to her phone. She of course already had Dean's info saved. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?" He asked which caused Y/N to shake her head lightly "As much as I would love to, I have responsibilities up here. Work, family, what's left of a mortgage to pay off...Maybe one day though." She offered a soft smile.

After hugging both boys and telling Dean to drive safe, they took off for Virginia. "Dude," Sam looked over at Dean "I know we were skeptical at first but can we agree she's definitely related to us?"

Dean looked at Sam weird “I don’t see it.”

“You’re kidding right?” Sam asked “Aside from the fact that she’s like a walking replica of me, she makes really good pie; you love pie. You saw how defensive she got when I told her it’d be safer to sty at home while we took care of the vamps. It’s clear she’d do anything for her family. Sound like someone you know? and while we’re on the subject let’s talk about the fact that she’s not a terrible hunter. She’s far from a natural and a little weak stomached, but for someone who’s probably never killed a thing in their life she wasn’t bad.” Sam listed all the different ways she was just like Dean.

“What was the first thing she said when she saw the arsenal he keep in the trunk?” Sam asked his brother who responded with “I dunno. What’d she say?”

“She said ‘That’s awesome. She sounded just like you.” Sam insisted

Dean sat silent for a moment, focusing on the road ahead of them before relenting “Yeah okay when you put it like that she’s definitely related.” He agreed

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #female reader

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weuschoiceheart · 3 years

Text

🔑 Keiys to Your Heart - Romeo and Juliet (2)

Taglist: @mysticpenguincreation @soft-black-teabag @dusk-carnival @raftel-is-waiting @bluejayjay @lifeisamuffin @sparkling-nights @thenoceurgirl @affectionaterainoflove (send an ask if you want to be tagged!)

(This part is pretty long, probably the longest fic I’ve written so far, you have been warned).

Genre: fluff, mostly CrAcK, pining, Pining, PINING, theater!au, Seon playing matchmaker with Jaeho as his sidekick, K x female!reader

Warning: cursing, prepare yourself for cringe

Summary: In which Seon is sick of seeing K and Y/n pine for each other, so when the school play started up, he forced the K to audition, hoping he’ll get the main role while Y/N (typical theater student) gets Juliet. To his shock, however, another student snatches Juliet’s role and Seon is forced to rethink his plan.

Part 2/? : <— Previous Next —>

————— ————— ————— ————— —————

“Stop pacing, it’s making my head spin.”

Ignoring his friend, Seon continued pacing. Jaeho was only here for the food anyway. Well, food and maybe to lent some extra braincells (not that he had any, for that matter).

“What are you thinking about?” Jaeho asked, popping another potato chip into his mouth. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I have to find some way to convince him to audition....” Seon swung around in a u-turn, bumping into the coffee table. Jaeho let out a yelp as he just barely stopped the snack bowl from tipping over.

“Ok, what is it? What are you so agitated—”

Seon’s phone rang from the couch, and Seon instinctively went to grab it. Seeing the caller ID, he raised his eyebrows at Jaeho, who only frowned at him, confused. “Who is it?” he mumbled through a mouthful of gummies.

Seon answered the call and put it on speaker, K’s loud voice instantly spilling through the phone.

“Seon, this is all your fault!”

“Huh?” Jaeho turned to Seon, now more puzzled than ever. A slow smile spread over Seon’s face, having an inkling of what K was talking about.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, K.”

He heard his friend take a deep breath over the phone, and there was a pause, before he finally forced the words out. “I told her that I would audition for the play.”

“Wait, what?” Jaeho sat up quickly, the snacks in his hands flying everywhere. “You’re going to try out for Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yes...” K’s voice sounded almost mournful. “I’m going to try out and fail miserably in front of my crush.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Seon responded gleefully. Well, that’s the first part done. “Just practice your lines, and you’ll make it. Now go start writing out your confession, lover boy.”

“What—I don’t—” K spluttered upon hearing Seon’s words. “What do you mean, confession?!”

Too late, Seon had already hung up.

K threw the phone onto his bed and flopped onto his stomach. Grabbing a pillow, he screamed into it.

Seon put down his phone and clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s get to work.”

“I don’t even know what we’re working on,” Jaeho sighed as he picked up the chips on the floor with a napkin. He pouted slightly. Poor snacks.

“We’re gonna make sure K confesses soon, and since Y/N is also auditioning, well, let’s just say her Romeo will finally express his undying love for his Juliet,” Seon answered. “And to do that, I’ll need your help.”

Jaeho flicked a piece of chip at Seon. “Why are you so invested in his love life when you can’t even handle yours with Artz-”

Seon grabbed a gummy bear from the snack bowl and threw it at Jaeho, who caught it in his mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Look, we knew that idiot has been in love with Y/N for years already, and if we don’t do something, he’ll probably regret it later after he graduates and never sees her again. Now here’s his chance. So grab whatever braincells you have and help me.”

———————————————————————————

You were not ready to face an angry mama dragon.

Well, your day was already ruined already, so you’d prefer hearing Giulia nagging at you for not bringing an umbrella than having to face another day at school.

And the auditions for the play too.

You mentally screamed as you dashed across the courtyard and ducked under the school awning, finally out of the rainstorm. With sleep deprivation at its peak, school projects, and exams, you had barely squeezed in time to practice for the play.

Great, now you’ll try out and fail miserably in front of your crush.

Letting out a yell in frustration, you stamped your feet, accidentally stepping in a puddle. Lovely, this is absolutely lovely. You tried to shake the water out of your shoes and looking up, you saw nearby students cast you weird glances. Ducking your head in embarrassment, you sighed and decided to drag your sodden body inside.

At least it’s warmer in here, you thought glumly. The bell hasn’t rung yet, so maybe you can go to a secluded area and practice your lines, that is, if you can just stop dripping water on the floor and hopefully don’t slip on the way to your locker—

“Y/N!”

You almost slipped when you heard the voice, shutting your eyes tight. Please not now, not him, he can’t see me in this mess, oh god, can this day get worse?

“Y/N.” K caught you before you can fall on your face and embarrass yourself further. The two of you stood there, staring at each other. You can see his face turning red at your touch, and you can feel yours heating up too. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you pulled away, much to his disappointment.

“Are you alright?” K felt dumb asking the question, since it was clear from your frazzled appearance that you were far from alright. Suddenly thinking of an idea, he put his bag down and rummaged through it. “Here,” he brought out the towel he always kept with him for track team. “Use this to dry yourself off.”

Blinking in surprise, you shook your head. “It’s fine, you need it—”

“I have another one in my dance bag, don’t worry.” Before you can refuse again, K started to dry your head and face, his hand brushing against your lips slightly, and you swear your heart was about to stop. “You need it more than I do right now, anyway.”

Never in your life did you expect to be standing at the entrance hall of your school, with your crush two inches away from you as he fixes your messy self. Never in your life did you think your heart will pound any faster. Or that you’ll ever get this opportunity again.

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly as K stepped away, a gentle smile on his face as he studied you. Maybe this day isn’t so bad after all. “Sorry for wasting your time, my dumbass forgot to bring an umbrella to school today.”

“Yeah, um, no problem,” K stuttered out. Damn, how did I even have the courage to stand that close to her? “Wait, you don’t have an umbrella?”

“No, no, no, I’ll be ok,” you said, not wanting to trouble him further as he held out his umbrella to you. “I’ll share with my friends, I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I’ll be fine, really,” he looped the handle of his umbrella onto your wrist. “I’ll just share with Jay. Besides, by the time track practice ends, it would stop raining anyway.”

“Oh...thanks,” you said, flustered by his kindness. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

He titled his head, confused. “You don’t ever have to repay me, Y/N. I’ll gladly do anything for you.”

At this point, you’re sure your heart was about to burst. K, realizing what he just said, turned a darker shade of red. The two of you stood there awkwardly, staring at anything but each other, and you were about to speak up again before another voice rang out from behind you.

“Hey! What are you two lovebirds up to?”

Artzyy strode up to you, looking between you and K. Noticing the tension in the air, xe grinned. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“No, nothing,” K hurriedly scrambled to grab his bag, his train of thought broken. “I have to meet up with Hanbin for dance practice, see you two later!” Sending you a wave, he walked away.

“So I did interrupt something,” Artzyy turned back to you, eyebrows raised. “Care to explain what happened?”

You barely registered what xe was saying, still staring at K’s back disappearing around the corner. A smile stretched across your face as you touched the spot where his hands met your lips, the warm feeling in your chest expanding. Noticing your dazed expression, Artzyy couldn’t help laughing. “You look like a lovestruck fool.”

“Maybe I am....or maybe this is a dream and I need to wake up...”

“Well, wake up you will because the bell should ring any minute now,” Artzyy snapped xyr fingers in front of your face, shaking you out of your reverie. “Gods, you really are more whipped than Moona.”

You shoved xyr side playfully, as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t compare me to Moona when you’re the same.”

Artzyy eyes widened at your statement. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, let’s just go.” Xe grabbed your arm and pulled you along, and you laughed to yourself. It’s so easy to embarrass xem.

“Mhm, sure. Like Choi Seon isn’t your phone wallpaper.”

“I’m who’s wallpaper?”

Artzyy whipped around upon hearing the voice, and you almost laughed out loud at xyr expression when xe noticed that Seon was walking behind you two. Deciding to spare xyr embarrassment, you calmly said. “Hey, Seon.”

“Do you know where K went? I need to talk to him about something.” You can feel Artzyy let out a breath behind you, relieved that Seon wasn’t going to interrogate xem. Huh, and you said my love life needs work.

“He went to the dance studio, to practice with Hanbin,” you answered, right as the bell rang. Seon nodded his thanks before turning to go. Artzyy slowly peeked out from behind your shoulder, then hid again when he faced you once more.

“Good luck at the auditions.” Flashing you a mischievous smile, he ran off. Frowning to yourself, you wonder what that look could mean, as Artzyy tugged at your arm to go. Following xem, you took a deep breath and grinned as your mind flashed back to your encounter with K.

Yeah, maybe today isn’t going to be so bad after all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

K fidgeted nervously in his seat, uncomfortable with the atmosphere in the room. If he had been smart and kept his mouth shut, he would’ve been practicing choreography with the rest of the dance team right now. But instead, he’s sitting in the auditorium, with the lights off and spotlighted on stage, waiting for an audition he wasn’t prepared for. Well, he tried his best to prepared for it (Hanbin, bless his kind heart, had volunteered to do Juliet’s lines so K can memorize Romeo’s, with Jay and Geonu laughing their asses off in the background), and he did, somehow, know the lines, but once he get up stage, he knew all of that would fly out the window.

“Didn’t expect to find you here, K.”

K turned at the familiar voice, seeing a tall girl sit down next to him. “Oh, hey.... Minsoo. Long time no see.” He hadn’t seen her for over a year, ever since they broke up last summer. He suddenly remembered that she was also a theater student, like you, and realized that she must be auditioning for the lead role as well.

The girl hummed in response, then gestured to the script in his hand. “You’re trying out for the play?”

“Oh, yeah...” K muttered awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Minsoo tilted her head to the side, an amused expression on her face. “Really? When did you become so interested in theater?”

“Oh, uh-” K racked his mind for some excuse, and stuttered out, “I just decided to, I don’t know, try something new.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal, and mentally cringed inside.

“Ah...” Minsoo, looking unconvinced, sat back in her chair. “Lead role, too?”

“Yeah.” K’s gaze became distracted as he saw you took center stage, and he leaned forward, curious to see your audition. Unlike previous years, you seem to be more nervous this time, tapping your feet anxiously, fiddling with your fingers. Across from you, K saw Youngbin, one of the vocal students and Jake’s friend, who seem to also be trying out for Romeo as well. The director, Ms. Jino, signaled for them to start.

Following K’s gaze, Minsoo snickered upon seeing his besotted expression as he watched you perform. So that’s why...

“I really hope she gets the role...” K murmured as your audition finished. He started fidgeting again as he waited for his name to be called. Any minute now.

“Well, there’s a lot of girls trying out for Juliet this year,” Minsoo remarked, “I’m actually surprised by the amount. Maybe they’re trying to get on Ms. Lee’s good side by auditioning.”

“Really?” K scanned the room, and found out that she was right. The auditorium was half full with people coming in for auditions, and more were coming in as well. Most of the girls look almost as nervous as he is, anxiously practicing their lines. Y/N would still get in though, I know she would.

Minsoo shrugged. “I’m sure Ms. Jino would find the perfect one for the role among the people who just do it for a grade.”

K quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re not doing this for the grade?” he teased.

“Hey, I’m offended,” Minsoo replied, pretending to sound affronted. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Sure you aren’t,” K playfully bounced back.

“At least I’m not doing it for a crush.”

“I’m- what?” K blinked in surprise. How did she know?

“Gotcha,” Minsoo laughed, “Oh, hey, there she is right now.”

You dragged yourself from backstage, head low and spirits even lower. Seriously, Y/N? Is this all you got? The audition went by pretty smoothly, except for some parts where you just blanked out and had to improvise on the spot. But you knew that you have to be better than this to get in, because judging by the mass number of girls auditioning, you knew that the teachers would analyze every part from the facial expressions to line delivery. Another failed audition, you thought to yourself, sighing as you closed the stage door, stopping at the sight in front of you.

You knew you shouldn’t feel this weird feeling in your chest, seeing K joking around with his ex-girlfriend, but you couldn’t help it. They only dated for a few months, and Minsoo has always been nothing but nice to everyone, so why do you have this terrible feeling of jealousy?

You really thought this day would get better just because your crush helped you out? Now you screwed up your audition and he probably likes someone else.

Pushing these thoughts out of your head, you swallowed a lump in your throat and rushed out of the auditorium. You can hear K calling your name behind you, but you ignored it and hurried on, afraid that if you turned back you’ll just burst into tears right there and then.

K deflated, eyebrows knit in worry as he slumped in his seat. “What happened? Why did she run off like that?”

Minsoo frowned in thought, looking at your retreating figure. Her eyes wandered to K and herself, then mentally face-palmed. “K, you’re a dumbass.”

“What?” Girls are so confusing. Right at that moment, he heard his name called, along with Minsoo’s, and he scrambled up, heart pounding. It’s time.

“When you’re done with this, make sure to go and talk to her, ok? So she doesn’t get the wrong idea,” Minsoo said as they climbed the stage steps. K nodded, casting another worried look at the auditorium’s doors, even though you were long gone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why the hell does he keep calling his lover Bambi?”

“It’s wordplay, Moona. “Bambi” in Korean means night shower, and he uses this imagery along with Disney references throughout the song, and the album itself, to enhance the music.”

“So he’s basically calling his lover a deer.”

“It’s a metaphor. Besides, the only deer you know is Heeseung, anyways.”

“Hey, there’s no need to attack me like—Y/N, are you ok?”

You plopped down on one of the seats outside the cafe, where you and your friends decided to meet up after school. The rain has cleared up earlier than expected, so you didn’t have to use the umbrella that K lent you, thankfully. Using it might just cause your emotions to spiral out of control again. I’l just return it tomorrow, you thought, forcing a smile on your face as you looked at your friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Oh, stop lying, you’re not,” Star studied you carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing, you buried your face in your hands. “I failed the auditions.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t think like that,” Moona pushed a slice of cheesecake over to you. “You just did the audition, and they won’t announce the results until at least next week. Calm down and eat some cheesecake.”

“You should copyright that slogan and put it on a mug,” Star snickered. She pushed a cup into your hand. “Here’s your comfort drink, by the way. We know how stressed you get after auditions.”

You finally let a small smile settle on your face, taking a sip of the drink. Gosh, what would you do without your friends. “Thanks guys.”

“Nah, no need to thank us, we got you.” Taking a sip of her own drink, Moona said, “Hey, there’s Giulia now.”

“I’m so so sorry, I swear to god, if I have to hear that stupid customer yell at me one more time, I’ll scream,” Giulia plopped down next to you, then turned concerned at the look on your face. “Honey, you ok?”

“No,” you took a bite of cheesecake, savoring the sweet flavor in your mouth. You just wanted to distract yourself from this horrid day. “Wait, where’s Artzyy?” you asked, realizing that someone was missing.

“Xe had a group project with Seon,” Star grinned mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows. “So xe had to cancel today.”

“Oh.” On any other day, you would’ve joined in on teasing Artzyy, but xyr relationship with Seon just reminded you of how you ditched K back in the auditorium, and guilt started piling up inside you. Even if you were jealous, you shouldn’t have abandoned him like that, and he’s probably worried that he did something wrong. Which he didn’t. It’s just this crappy ass day of yours, and this dark cloud hanging over your head, shrouding your emotions, your thoughts, your stupid feelings—

“Alright,” Giulia clapped her hands together, interrupting your thoughts. “I know you always get stressed over auditions, but you’re not like this. What is wrong, Y/N? You can tell us, we’ll listen.”

You looked up to see Moona and Star also giving you similar troubled expressions, and you shook your head. “It’s just...a bad day. Nothing is going right.” Your voice cracked at the last syllable, and you will yourself to not cry. Everything felt too much, school, the play, your love life.

Your friends shared a look, before they scooted over to embrace you in a group hug. You relaxed against their arms, feeling comforted at last.

“Things will get better,” Giulia soothed. “Hang in there, ok? You’re stronger than all of this, Y/N.”

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“What’s the matter? You look like someone just rejected you.”

K glared at him, and Seon comprehended that maybe that wasn’t the right choice of words. He sighed and took a seat beside his friend on the bleachers. “What’s wrong?”

K flicked through his phone, before turning it off with a defeated sigh. “She’s not answering my calls, or my messages. She just dashed out after the auditions without even looking at me. Even though I called after her.”

Seon frowned, puzzled by K’s words. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” K threw his hands up in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “She just...ran away.”

Seon opened his mouth to say something, but K’s coach yelled for everyone to get on the field to start practicing again. Seon watched as K, with a broken expression, climbed down the bleachers and headed onto the tracks. Staring after him, Seon started to feel like everything was not going according to plan. At all. He took out his phone to text Jaeho about the latest development.

Seon: Something’s wrong….

Jaeho: Why? What happened now?

Seon: The couple dynamics are weird.

Jaeho: The only weird couple dynamic is you making kissy faces at Artzyy while she tries to avoid looking at you when you two were working on the project.

Seon: I was NOT making kissy faces! And this isn’t about Artzyy, I’m talking about K and Y/N.

Jaeho: Oh. So….change of plans?

Seon: No, not yet. Not until they announce the audition results. I just….have a bad feeling about this.

43 notes · View notes

farfromparker · 5 years

Text

Too Busy Being Yours

Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

NSFW

Part 2!

Summary: Peter’s had a crush on you since he moved into the Avenger’s compound. He heads down for training one morning and finds out he’s set to be your sparing partner for the next couple weeks. He also finds out he likes the feel of your hand around his throat.

Warnings: smut, choking kink, sub!peter (Peter is 19!)

A/N: I’m a sucker for sub Peter/Tom so don’t be surprised if this isn’t the last piece like this I write. Also, Infinity War/Endgame? Not in this house!!

Word Count: 4k

Peter walks into the training compound, gym bag slung over his shoulder and he already knows you’re here. Your tell tale training playlist blasting through the speakers and he finds himself humming along as he approaches the schedule. He slides his finger down the list until he finds today’s date.

Oh.

“Tony wanted us to be sparring partners for a couple weeks, said we could learn a few things from each other.” You raise your hands in air quotes over the last part.

Peter swallows dryly… weeks?

He looks over to you and watches as you remove your fingerless gloves, a light sheen of sweat coats your forehead. He can see your knuckles are red from where you've been hitting the punching bag. You’re gorgeous.

“Right, sure?” He meant it as a statement but it comes out as a question.

You elaborate, “He said I fight dirty and - well you’re obviously a lot stronger than me so,” you shrug.

It makes sense, you can learn from each other instead of squaring up with someone that has a similar fighting style. On missions, people are going to do whatever they can to take advantage. It makes total sense. Peter’s just having a hard time thinking straight knowing he’s going to be fighting - wrestling with you - daily… for weeks.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“C’mon Parker, I’ll take it easy on you,” you wink at him as you walk past. He bites his lip and falls in line behind you, trying his best to ignore how tight your leggings are around your ass. He fails.

You stretch when you get to the mats, bending over and Peter drops his head, gym bag slipping off his shoulder and onto the ground. He kneels down and rummages through it for something - anything - to distract himself. He manages to just pull out a towel and set it aside. Nice Peter.

You’re bouncing up and down now, springing up from the balls of your feet and shaking your arms. He catches your eye and you raise your eyebrows in a silent question. He rolls his shoulders as he stands and makes his way over to you, watching as you bring your hands up closer to your face.

You circle each other at first as he dodges your first few strikes but makes no attempt to reciprocate. You huff, “You’re not gonna hurt me Peter, I’ve been shot before I think I can handle a broken rib or similar.”

Peter’s eyes go wide “I’m not gonna break your ribs!”

You land a blow to his stomach and the air leaves his lunges in a rush. You smirk “I know.”

His eyes narrow. He’s worked missions with you before but he’s never really seen you in action. Tony was right, you did fight dirty.

“That was cheap.” He murmurs, dodging another strike from you before grabbing your arm and flipping you to the ground. This time, it’s your eyes that go wide. “It won’t happen again.” He says leaning over you, smirking.

He’s able to focus better after that, you aren’t the girl he’s been pining after since he moved into the tower, instead you’re an opponent with a smart mouth.

9 out of 10 times he gets you pinned and you’re forced to restart but after the fourth round, you’re catching on. He leaves his left flank exposed when he follows through with a punch. You’re getting quicker now, dodging and striking at his weakness. He can feel his ribs bruising from it but the pain doesn’t compare to how much he’s actually enjoying fighting with you.

He’s bantering with you, spitting smart remarks back in your face. You’re impressed, smirking and laughing and he’s proud he can stand toe to toe with you in that aspect.

“Tap out” he taunts, you’re pinned underneath him, your wrists in his hands and you’re both panting.

“No” you retort and he admires your fight.

He’s about to continue on, count the ways he’s got you beat but before he can, you roll your hips up against him, planting your feet and throwing your weight upward. He’s caught off guard and you take advantage, ripping your hands free as you roll over top of him.

It happens in the blink of an eye, he’s reaching to grab you back when suddenly your grip is on his throat, your hand tightens and his world shrinks. He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately tries to ignore the pull in his groin.

“Fuck, Peter I’m sorry.” As quickly as it came, the pressure is gone. You release him and when he opens his eyes he can see the concern written across your face. You’re kneeling next to him now and he rolls towards you, propping himself up on his elbow. He scrubs a hand across his face. “I was just looking for something to get the upper hand and I didn’t - fuck - are you -“

“Y/n I’m fine. Hey, it worked didn’t it? You definitely won that round.” He tries to laugh it off but he can feel how hot his face is, cheeks stained in embarrassment. He hopes you just attribute it to the physical activity.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

He smiles and sits up “I’m Spider-Man, I’ve definitely been through worse.”

You don’t look completely convinced but you let it slide. “Probably call it a day anyway, we’ve been here almost 2 hours now.”

“Yeah, good idea.” He agrees, standing and walking over to his gym bag to get his water.

You hesitate, drumming your fingers against your thigh before walking over to your own bag and flinging it over your shoulder. Peter can see small bruises blooming across your shoulder blades and he feels guilty.

“Well, I’ll catch you around Parker.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

He doesn’t really remember walking back to his quarters, his body went on autopilot as his mind went into overdrive. His fingers twitch against his side as F.R.I.D.A.Y. welcomes him back and opens the door. He could still feel your hand on his throat, feel your body on top of his, hear your labored breathing. He drops his bag on the floor as the door shuts firmly behind him. He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it to the ground before sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He’s half hard, cock twitching in interest every time his mind plays it over again and he groans. Was this a thing now? He couldn’t distinguish if it was the feeling of your hand around his throat or simply the fact that it was you with your hand around his throat. He’d come to terms a long time ago that he’d be willing to do anything you wanted, if the opportunity arose (it hadn’t) but this - this is something he wasn’t prepared for.

***

It’s really all downhill from there. His brain is a treacherous bastard and he dreams about you every night, on top of him, hand on his throat, grinding down on his cock. He wakes up sweaty and horny, or worse, already stained with cum. He’s 19 for fucks sake and he’s having wet dreams again like he’s pubescent.

He has trouble focusing when he’s sparring with you. Mind hazy. You’re getting better no doubt but a couple of landed blows to the face later and Peter starts to weigh the options of a broken jaw or just telling you how he feels and facing complete and utter humiliation.

He walks in one morning some days later, having barely slept again and you’re already there, warming up. You always get there before he does.

“Peter, I made a new playlist for us. I know you were getting sick of Post.”

Peter smiles, “Nah, you always have the best playlists, I could never get sick of them.”

You smile brightly at him and point towards your phone, “Play it, I named it after you.”

He smiles, proud to have a playlist named after him on your phone. You’ve always been serious about your music and he likes to be associated with something that truly makes you, you.

He glances at your phone and it unlocks, you had insisted on adding his face to your phone ID “in case of emergencies” and vice versa and it was another thing Peter was proud to have. Tony had been annoyed, huffing something about F.R.I.D.A.Y just being able to hack in anyway. You had laughed.

He thumbs over to your music and selects playlists and he sees his name “Parker”…. followed by “Sex” and he stops breathing for a moment. His thumb hovers over the word. You had a sex playlist and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing it. Curiosity getting the best of him as he scrolls through the songs. How often did you listen to this playlist? Had you gotten off to this song? Or that one? Who were listening to this playlist with?

“Find it?” You ask, startling him.

“Uh yeah - you uh, you have a sex playlist?” He hates that his voice raises an octave towards the end.

“Oh of course, don’t you?”

Should probably have sex more than once to compile a playlist.

You study him for a second before stepping into his space and scrolling through your phone while it’s still in his hands. “We can listen to it if you want to, there’s some bangers in here,” you wink at him as the music starts. You’re so fucking cool.

A heavy beat starts out, easy to move to while a guitar strums along. He knows this song but knowing that you’ve possibly had sex to this song? Possibly had an orgasm to this song? It holds new meaning now.

You square up to him, rolling your neck and he gets into a defensive stance.

Have you got colour in your cheeks'

You strike first and he blocks, countering with a blow to your shoulder. You step back with a huff before getting back into position. He comes towards you but you dodge him easily, grabbing his wrist and twisting it up against his back.

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

He goes to move out of your lock but you hook your foot against his movement, catching him off guard. He tumbles to the ground, arms behind his back. It was sloppy and too easy. You both know it but he taps out anyway.

(Do I wanna know?)

If this feeling flows both ways

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

He can’t focus on fighting with this song in the background. He thinks he sees something different in your eyes as well but he can’t comment on it. Too afraid of the answer.

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new

You pin him again, straddling his waist this time and he could get out of it. He doesn’t want to though and he hopes you don’t want him to either. A moment of confidence (or stupidity) flows through him and he pulls his hand out of your grasp. You let him easily and he hears the slightest increase in your breathing. He grabs your wrist gently and carefully guides it to his throat. He can’t look you in the eyes anymore, opting to squeeze them shut rather than feel the weight of your gaze. He presses his lips into a thin line as he feels your fingers glide along his skin.

“Peter..?”

“Please.”

Your fingers dig into the column of his throat and he whines, just a small noise but he knows your hear it. The blood has rushed to his cock and he knows you know. He can feel the heat and weight of you against him and he can’t stop himself from grinding up into you.

You gasp, and for a moment he’s worried he’s popped this bubble you’ve found yourselves in, but you compose yourself quickly, rocking your hips back down against him and he can’t keep quiet any longer.

“Y/n” he moans.

The door to the training compound slams and you quickly pull your hand away from his throat, startled. Peter can’t bare to look at the door but he’s thankful you make no move to get off him, there’s no way he could hide how hard he is without you. He watches your eyes narrow and he has a pretty good idea of who has walked in.

“Damn y/n, I think you win that round.” Sam’s voice echoes off the walls, somehow louder than the music. Peter has never wanted to kill someone more than right now.

You flip Sam off as Peter sits up, giving you the cue that you can get off of him, as much as he absolutely does not want that.

“I always knew she’d be the type to kick your ass in the streets and the sheets.” Bucky says and now Peter wants to die. If more people keep walking in it’s going to be extremely hard - pun intended - to get out of this situation without further damage to his ego.

His gym bag slams against his shoulder and he looks up to see you looking back at him. Thank fuck.

“Thanks.” He whispers, the double meaning not lost on you.

“You only wish I’d whip your ass into shape Buck” the words roll off your tongue easily, almost like you didn’t just have you hand on Peter’s throat.

“Dream about it every night darling, when you’re done with Peter let me know.”

He’s joking, Peter knows that but the words sting all the same.

“Keep dreaming soldier.” The music stops as you disconnect your phone. “C’mon Parker, I’m hungry.”

Peter’s frozen in place, the sting easing in his chest. He had started coming to terms that this had been ruined, that you’d come back to reality and realized how ridiculous he is and that you’re definitely not interested… but you’re looking at him with that hint of something different he’d seen before. This isn’t over?

“Wait, Pete, shouldn’t you buy her dinner first?” Sam jabs.

“Fuck off” he retorts, catching up to you quickly and Sam and Bucky are practically cackling but he doesn’t care anymore. Your hand is sliding down his arm as you walk out of the compound and they can joke all they want as long as you keep looking at him like that.

You don’t say anything as you press the elevator button. The doors open and you both step on. Peter goes to press the ground floor button but you knock is hand out of the way, pressing the button for the top floor, where your quarters are located.

“I’m not hungry for food Peter.”

He makes a pitiful noise, succumbing to the shift in the air. You have complete control in everything that happens moving forward and Peter couldn’t be more turned on.

“Shh baby, soon.” You coo, running a hand up to scrape through his hair, tugging lightly and he moans again. “You’re so responsive… I love it. I can’t wait to find out what other noises I can pull from that pretty mouth of yours.”

He’s positive if you had merely brushed against his dick he’d have cum.

The doors open and he follows you like a lost puppy toward your room. Once inside, he drops his bag off to the side. He glances over towards you, suddenly extremely nervous.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., active Red Hat protocol, please.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s electronically polished voice sounds, “Activated.”

Peter’s brows furrow, “Red Hat?”

You walk toward him, sliding a hand underneath his shirt when you reach him, “We’re offline. Tony can’t send for us, no one can. And if he tries to override it, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will alert me while sending him down a rabbit hole. We’ll have about 5 minutes from her warning before Stark will force his way in again.” You’re smirking now, toying with the band of his boxers.

“I’m so turned on right now.” Peter smiles, his tone is joking but he’s completely serious. You laugh, bright and loud.

“Now, I believe we left off somewhere..?” You smirk, reaching a hand up to wrap around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. He sighs into you, gripping your hips and pulling you in closer. His lips slip smoothly against yours, tiny noises raising from the back of his throat.

Moving your hand back down his body, you push his shirt up, pulling away from the kiss as he removes it the rest of the way. He wants to keep kissing you but you have other ideas, pressing a thumb against his jaw to move his head and get access to his neck. He swallows thickly as your breath ghosts over his skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface.

The silence is killing him and, hoping to distract himself from making more embarrassing noises, he starts talking. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your lips press against his skin “I know.”

Heat settles on his cheeks again but he can’t stop himself from continuing on, “You're amazing, and so sexy. I’ve been dreaming about you.” What?! Peter shut up.

“Tell me about them.”

He bites his lip, cock throbbing as you open your mouth against his neck, tongue meeting skin.

“They’re - uh you’re - you have your hand on my throat….” he feels like the rest of the picture should paint itself, you basically acted the rest of it out down in the training compound.

You’re not satisfied though, humming before your teeth scrape against his neck. He hisses “F-fuck y/n.”

“There has to be more to your dreams, Peter.”

Suddenly, your hand is on his cock, squeezing through the fabric of his joggers and he throws his head back, hitting the wall hard but he barely feels it. The moan that falls out of his mouth sounds pornographic but he’s in no mind to be embarrassed.

“Y-yes, there's more. You’re on top me, riding me and I - uggghhh.”

He can feel your lips curl into a smile, feel the pressure of your fingertips on his hips as you push his joggers and boxers down his legs. He kicks out of them as you step away, his body instinctively wanting to follow your heat. Stupidly, he wants to cover himself because you’re still fully clothed and he’s standing there, naked and hard, shy under your gaze. “Lay down Peter.” Your voice is soft, like you can see how vulnerable he feels.

Peter’s head is swimming, “Right, yeah.”

He settles down against the pillows and watches as you strip naked. He eyes you hungrily, every curve and fine line of muscle, every scar and mole. He wants to touch you everywhere. He reaches down and squeezes the base of his cock to relieve some pressure. You tsk as you walk toward him “Hands off.” And he immediately let’s go, settling instead on your thighs as you straddle him, wet cunt slipping against his cock and he sees stars explode as his eyes slide shut.

“Holy shit.” He moans, squeezing your legs, wanting nothing more than to rut up against you.

“I said,” you grab his wrists and pull them away from your body, “hands off.”

He whines, but does as you command, reaching his hands up and gripping the metal of your headboard. You cock your head, “Don’t break my headboard, I’m kind of fond of it.”

A small laugh slips past his lips, “I’ll do my best but - ughh,” you rock against him, “no promises.”

You lean down over him, lips finding his and he opens his mouth to yours. Your hands slide up his stomach, fingernails leaving small red trails in their wake. You brush against his nipples, earning a small noise from him before your right hand reaches his neck. You pull away, kissing the side of his mouth before pulling back to look in his eyes. He’s flushed, lips shiny and pupils blown.

“You’re gorgeous Peter.”

He smiles, a deeper flush settling on his cheeks, “You’re more gorgeous.”

You smirk back, “Always the flatterer, but back to that dream you’ve been having.” Your fingertips ghost along his throat.

He groans, fingers flexing into your headboard. He ruts up against you, cock dribbling precome against his stomach, “Y/n, please.”

“Oh Peter,” your hand clasps around this throat gently, fingertips applying pressure and you slide along his cock. Cockhead rubbing against your clit. You squeeze gently before releasing him, and he sighs, fixing his gaze back on you.

“More, please.”

“So polite,” you coo. “And you’ll get more baby boy, but first.” You reach over him and into your nightstand, pulling out a condom. He releases the headboard, intending to take the condom from you but you rip it open with your teeth, cocking an eyebrow at him. His mouth pops open slightly before you kneel up over him, taking his cock in your hand and rolling the rubber down his length.

You grab his wrists and guide them back to the headboard, “Final warning, Peter. I’ll have to punish you if it happens again.” As much as he doesn’t want to disobey you the thought of what your punishment could entail has his cock twitching.

Suddenly you’re sinking down on his dick and he whines, “Fuck, oh fuck, please.” He can hear your moans as well, mixing in the air with his noises. Your hand comes back up to his throat, placing your grip on the skin there. You don’t squeeze, opting to just feel the hammering of his heartbeat under your fingertips.

You’re riding him now, grinding down on him whenever your thighs meet his hips. He can’t stop himself from flexing up into you, “So good, oh fuck - you feel so good.”

“Peter,” you gasp, “need you, touch me.”

He’s quick to get his hand on your lower stomach, feeling your muscles quiver with each movement. His thumb finds your clit after some mild fumbling and you groan as he starts to rub it.

“Mmm so good.” You moan, opening your eyes to look down at him. You squeeze gently around his neck and there’s another sharp prick of arousal in his groin. He thumbs at your clit quicker now, the pressure on his neck and cock are catching up with him but he doesn’t want to finish before you do.

You let go of his throat as you lean back, his cock rubbing up against that spot that has your thighs trembling. He reaches his free hand up to palm at your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized as you move on his cock. Your walls clench around him and he bites his lip. “Fuck sweetheart, not gonna last much longer with you doing that.” He grits out.

You moan, “That’s the point baby boy.”

His hips begin to stutter underneath you and you knock his hand off your clit to replace it with your own. Watching you touch yourself while fucking yourself on his cock is what sends him over the edge. He reaches down for the covers laying underneath him, having enough mind to stop himself from bruising you. He comes loudly, cock pulsing inside you as he pushes his head back into the pillow, exposing his neck to you. He’s riding out his orgasm when feels you flutter around him, overstimulated as a sting of pain mixes with pleasure.

You’re moaning his name, milking your climax for all it’s worth and his stomach clenches as his cock spills a few final drops of cum into the condom.

You collapse on top of him, heaving and sticky with sweat. You hum, placing a kiss along his collarbone before raising your head to look at him. You smile at him, “Way better than any fantasy.”

He sputters, “You’ve been…? You fantasize about this? About me?”

You place a quick kiss to his lips before lifting yourself off of him. “You thought it was a coincidence that you came across my sex playlist?” You ask as you wink, disappearing into the bathroom.

Peter smiles to himself, then “Wait, this wasn’t a one a time thing, right?” Does he sound a little desperate and a lot hopeful? Yes.

He hears you laugh through the thin wall. “Don’t worry about that baby boy, I have a lot of plans for you.”

***

Tony squints at the screen. The coding where your room is - where your room should be - is gone. He rubs a thumb along his chin.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Bruce asks as he walks around him.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing. Y/n and spidey have just disappeared.”

“Oh yeah? Good for them, it’s about time.”

“Yeah, yeah right. Good for them.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, studying Tony over the top of his glasses, “You can’t figure out how to bring them back online.”

Tony scoffs, “Of course I can, but what kind of mentor would I be if I cockblocked the kid?”

Bruce laughs, “Keep telling yourself that Tony.”

#peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #sub!peter #peter parker #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #my writing

3K notes · View notes

izzyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Sleepality - Inky Freckles

SHIPS: Sleepality, background Virmile and Thomgan, and mentioned Dukeceit (though neither of them show up)

WARNINGS: Remus sends one text message with an implied threat (not towards the recipient), very very background sympathetic deceit and remus (they aren't acc in any scenes), mild swearing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread

Masterpost

Patton chewed distractedly on the end of his pen, tapping his foot on his bedroom floor as his eyes remained on his clock, watching as the seconds and the minutes ticked by.

Five minutes. Ten seconds.

Five minutes and ten seconds until the moment he turned sixteen.

January 15th, 1:46 am on the dot: the exact date and time of Patton’s birth. Precisely sixteen years after that moment, his soul would open up, and the bond between him and his soulmate would be formed, like an invisible string from one soul to the other. Any ink spilled on Patton’s skin would show up on his soulmate’s, too, and vice versa. Of course, nothing would happen if Patton’s soulmate wasn’t also sixteen yet, but it was still a big moment in his young life.

(If he even had a soulmate, that was. Most people didn’t, but Patton wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hopeful.)

Four minutes. Thirty-six seconds.

Patton got up from his desk, pacing around the room a few times before sitting down on his bed, leaning back against the pillows and pulling his knees to his chest. Despite the coolness of his room, and the goose-bumps on his arms, he was dressed in a worn blue t-shirt and pyjama shorts, revealing as much skin as possible, just in case. His father, Roman, had gifted him a new pack of pens – the ones made specially to be safe for skin – and he’d picked out the glittery light blue one, his favourite colour, ready to write.

Three minutes. Twelve seconds.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Patton mumbled.

Three minutes. Seven seconds.

He yawned loudly, stretching and almost dropping his pen. It was late – much later than he usually stayed up. Patton was a well-behaved kid; he went to bed when his father told him to, never stayed out past curfew. He was usually fast asleep by 11pm at latest, so this was rather unusual for him.

Tonight was one of a kind, after all.

Two minutes. Fifty-one seconds.

The tick of the clock was maddeningly slow, every second seeming to take hours. Patton couldn’t wait for when he didn’t have to keep watching.

He reached over to his bedside table, taking his phone and switching it on.

There was one new message, from his uncle Remus, sent a few minutes ago.

UNCLE REMUS

tell your soulmate if he ever hurts you ill rip off his dick and shove it down his throat

Patton sighed, switching off his phone and placing it back down beside him. He wasn’t sure why his uncle was so certain that he had a soulmate – he claimed it was because he was psychic, though his husband, Janus, had chided him and told him not to get Patton’s hopes up.

It was hard not to be hopeful. Impossible.

One minute. Forty-nine seconds.

Patton chewed nervously on his lip, looking over his freckled arms and wondering what exactly he’d write to his soulmate.

Would a simple ‘hello’ suffice?

There was no point in writing a whole paragraph, especially when it was statistically unlikely that Patton even had a soulmate – and even if he did, perhaps they were younger, and their connection wouldn’t start until his soulmate turned sixteen, too.

One minute. Zero seconds.

A minute. A minute. A minute. Just a minute until Patton (maybe) talked to his soulmate for the first time. That was so little time – though it felt like so much.

Patton couldn’t help but burst into delighted laughter, and he was sure that if anybody was watching him, they’d think he was insane. The hope bubbled up inside him, like a cup overflowing with water, unable to be suppressed.

Fifty seconds.

He moved forward, and then lay down on his back, spreading his arms out like a starfish.

Patton tried to keep the hope down, tried to keep it from spilling over even more. Or maybe that was nausea, swirling in his stomach, but it almost felt too good to be that. Too happy. Too excited. Both, maybe.

Forty seconds.

Patton twirled the pen in his hand.

It slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpet with a quiet thump.

He bent down – wobbling slightly and nearly tumbling right off his bed – picking it back up and then sitting up again. He moved so his back was pressed against the wall, and tilted his head up to look at the pattern at the ceiling, counting each swirl.

He glanced back at the clock.

Twenty seconds.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and his eyes remained on the clock, watching it tick.

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Zero. Zero. Zero.

Patton sat up straight, squeezing the pen tightly, so tightly that his nails dug into his palm.

He pulled off the cap, dropping it on the bed beside him and holding the tip just above his wrist. His hand shook (nervousness or excitement? Both) as he pondered what to write for another moment.

He pressed the pen to his skin.

Hello?

Hopefully that was good enough.

Patton waited a few seconds, almost a whole minute, and then sighed, leaning back so his head hit the wall and closing his eyes. He was disappointed, but he knew that it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have let himself get so hopeful. Maybe he didn’t have a soulmate – that was alright, his uncles weren’t soulmates and yet they were wonderfully happy together.

(But his brother, Emile, did have a soulmate, and there was something amazing about the way he and Virgil could practically read each other’s minds, communicating effortlessly without saying a word. Patton wanted that. He really, desperately wanted that, more than anything else in the world.)

He wouldn’t cry.

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t.

His lower lip trembled.

All of a sudden, Patton felt a funny sensation on his wrist, like someone else was writing on it – the non-existent pen so light on his skin he almost couldn’t feel it. Almost.

Patton’s eyes shot open, and he immediately lifted his wrist to stare at it, wide-eyed.

His breath stuttered at the words now written in black ink just below his greeting.

holy shit

Before Patton could truly process what was going on, before he could regain his breath, the sensation resumed, and more words began to appear below those first ones.

guess im ur soulmate lol

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, practically vibrating with excitement.

He picked his pen back up, ignoring the slight stain he’d left on his bedsheets. He’d spilt enough juice and milk on his bed to care about one little stain, especially right now, when he had a much more important thing to focus on.

Oh my gosh!!!!!!

Soulmate!!!

Im Patton!

Patton Picani!!!

thats a lot of exclamation marks babe

Nervousness tinged the edges of Patton’s bubble of excitement, enough that he almost didn’t notice the use of the word ‘babe’, which made his heart skip a beat.

sorry

not a bad thing

its cute

Patton bit his lip, wiggling excitedly as his heartrate increased. He watched as the words continued coming. They were messy, but Patton was sure the handwriting was the prettiest he’d ever seen, though he could admit that he might’ve been a little biased. He would read a million books written in this handwriting.

im Remy

Sanders

my bdays acc the 16th lol

tomorrow

i turn 17

Its my birthday today!!!!

Only after Patton wrote that did he realise how obvious it was – of course it was his birthday – but he didn’t particularly care. The ticking of the clock had faded into background noise, and it was hard to believe it had ever annoyed him so much, though it was impossible for him to think of anything negative right now. He was floating on cloud nine.

happy birthday

were running out of arm space

id have to strip to get leg room

wanna gimme ur number?

Okay!!!

They quickly exchanged phone numbers, and Patton immediately grabbed his phone, creating a new contact labelled ‘Remy’ followed by seven colourful hearts – a rainbow of love. But before he could text Remy, Remy texted him first.

REMY:

what time is it for u

Patton glanced at the clock.

PATTON:

Almost 2am

REMY:

same

Realisation struck Patton, and his eyes widened with guilt and concern. He bit his lip, and quickly resumed typing.

PATTON:

Oh my gosh im so sorry!!!! Did I wake you up?

REMY:

nah babe dw bout it

i was already up

i always sleep late

PATTON:

That sounds unhealthy :(

Get some rest!!!

REMY:

u sound like my dads lol

PATTON:

What are they like?

REMY:

my dads?

its just the three of us

their names are logan and thomas and theyre the sappiest motherfuckers on earth

gotta love em tho

theyre gonna be real thrilled when they find out bout u

bet theyll love you right away

wbu

whats ur fam like

PATTON:

Oh! Well ive got my dad

His name’s Roman

He works in theatre!!! Hes so cool

And I’ve got my older brother Emile hes 22 and hes a therapist

He uses cartoons to help people!!

Hes also got a soulmate his name is Virgil and hes a florist

They got married last year and the wedding was so much fun!!! So many pretty flowers!!!

And I’ve got my uncle Remus hes my dads twin hes a writer and his husband Janus is a lawyer theyre also both so cool!!!

And that’s everyone!!

REMY:

if theyre all as sweet as u sugar then im sure ur all v popular

PATTON:

Well we do have dinner with our neighbours a lot!!!

Mrs Smith gives me lots of candy

Its often stale but I eat it anyway cos shes just so sweet!

Sweeter than her candy lol

Patton’s door suddenly swung open, and he jumped, his phone slipping from his fingers and landing right in his lap. His father, Roman, stepped inside, yawning and rubbing his eyes, wincing at the bright light that hung from the ceiling.

“You still up, Pat?” He asked sleepily.

He squinted, his eyes landing on the still-on phone in Patton’s lap.

“Who are you te- by the glittering horn of a unicorn! Is that writing on your arm?” He sat down, taking Patton’s arm and looking over the words. He then glanced back up at his son, his eyes shining excitedly. “You have a soulmate,” He breathed.

“I do!” Patton exclaimed, bouncing excitedly in place. “His name is Remy and he turns seventeen tomorrow and he’s just so cool!”

Roman beamed. “Wow, I’m so incredibly happy for you, Pat!” He said. Then, he chuckled, his smile turning a little teasing. “But... it’s late, and you really should be sleeping. And I’m betting that Remy should be, too.”

Patton pouted a little. “But it’s a Friday! I don’t have any school tomorrow.”

“But the family’s coming over tomorrow at 10 for your birthday, and I know you. You’re gonna be all grumbly in the morning, instead of our happy-pappy Patton, and that’ll be even worse the less sleep you get.”

Patton drooped, like a little wilting flower, but couldn’t deny that his father was right.

“Okay...” He frowned, picking up his phone, switching off the screen without looking at it, and holding it against his chest. “Can I at least say night to Remy, first?”

Roman smiled. “Sure.”

He leant forward, squeezing Patton’s arm supportively, before pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. Roman gave him one last smile, affectionately ruffling his hair, before pulling back and standing up. He brushed the non-existent dirt from his pyjamas.

“Goodnight, Pat,” He said. “And happy birthday.”

In the excitement that was talking to Remy, Patton had almost forgotten that it was his birthday, and he blinked in surprise as Roman left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Patton then took a deep breath, before switching his phone back on to see whatever messages he’d missed.

REMY:

u rlly r an angel huh

PATTON:

Awwwww!!

Your making me blush

REMY:

thats the goal babe

PATTON:

Such a flirt!!

REMY:

im gonna be ten times more flirty when i get to see ur pretty face in person

PATTON:

How do you know Im pretty?

You havent even seen me yet

REMY:

i can just tell

im awesome like that

i bet ur the cutest person in the whole damn world

the whole damn universe

but while were on the subject of seeing each other

were waiting to meet naturally right?

PATTON:

Yeah!

Its good luck

REMY:

yea

PATTON:

Welp!!!

Dad says I gotta go to sleep now!!

Night <3<3<3

REMY:

night xoxox

Patton switched off his phone, placing it on his bedside table and getting off the bed. He wobbled slightly as he stood up, suddenly realising how tired he really was, and quickly walked up to his fairy lights, switching them on before switching off the main light. He then climbed back into bed, settling in the soft nest of pastel pillows and blankets, and his last thought before he fell asleep was of his soulmate.

He barely knew Remy, but he already couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with him.

***

The sound of the alarm from Remy’s phone rang through the room, waking him up suddenly. His immediate reaction was to groan, shutting it off quickly and then returning to the warm comfort of his mattress and pillows and blanket. It was the weekend, he had no plans, so if his dads wanted him up, they could come in and get him up themselves. Remy wanted to sleep.

Then, the memories of the night before flooded back to him, and he shot up in bed, pulling out his arm and staring at it wide-eyed.

The words Patton had written last night had now been washed away – likely to leave room for new words and new conversations – whilst Remy’s words still remained, though now a little smudged and faded. The only sign that Patton’s words had ever been there in the first place was the new word on his wrist, just below his palm, in baby blue, like the ones before.

Morning <3

Remy grinned, jumping out of bed much more enthusiastically than he usually did, grabbing the black pen on his bedside table and rushing to the bathroom, thankfully not bumping into either of his dads on the way there.

He washed his arms as quickly as he could, leaving them a little sore and red, though he didn’t care, and uncapped his pen with his teeth, leaving the lid in his mouth.

mornin

!!!!!

Do you always get up this late?

Remy laughed. The handwriting was a little larger and a little neater than his, and each i was dotted with a heart, which made him even more convinced that his soulmate was probably the cutest person on earth.

what time is it

10:30

later usually

what time did u get up

8:30

oof

i could never

What do you do for school then?

suffer

Remy took the pen lid out of his mouth, pocketing it and twirling the uncapped pen between his fingers, watching as more light blue words appeared on his arm. The sensation was feather-light, barely there, but impossible to ignore.

Aww no!!

I don’t want you to suffer :(

dw babe ive got coffee

life saver

id die without it

100%

Well make sure you don’t drink too much!!!!

Its bad for you!!

dw my dad always tells me that

he keeps an eye on it

Which one?

logan

Okay

There was a brief pause, and Remy almost continued writing, but he got the feeling that Patton wasn’t done, so he just waited patiently, tapping his foot against the tiled bathroom floor.

Do you mind if I doodle on my arms?

I usually do when Im bored but I thought Id ask

I wont if you don’t want me to tho

go ahead

what do u doodle?

I usually just connect my freckles

Like little constellations!!!!

It was impossible to keep the grin on Remy’s face from widening – Patton's enthusiasm was adorable and infectious – and he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, crossing one leg over the other as he pressed his pen to his skin and continued writing.

u got a lot of freckles?

Yup!

Theyre everywhere

everywhere?

Yeah!

one day

im gonna kiss every single one of your freckles

(Perhaps that was a little bold for only their second conversation, but Remy was a natural flirt, and Patton was his soulmate, after all. He’d back down at any sign of discomfort, but so far Patton had seemed receptive.)

every single one

Thats a lot of kisses

not enough

but itll be a good start

A little, swirly scribble appeared just beside the words Remy had written – the universal key-smash equivalent for soulmates writing on their skin. Just the thought that he was already able to fluster Patton so easily made Remy very, very happy. He grinned.

Gtg! Presents time!

Ill talk to you later <3<3<3

later xoxo

Remy fished the pen lid back out of his pocket, capping the pen and pocketing it. He then strolled back out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and towards the kitchen.

His fathers were both sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and talking. Their legs were pressed together under the table, and it was clear they’d just been flirting. Both Logan and Thomas looked up when Remy entered the room, surprised.

“What kind of natural disaster got you up before midday?” Thomas joked.

Remy waved his arm, showing off the writing, and Logan choked on his coffee. Thomas patted his back a few times worriedly, and Remy waited impatiently for the conversation to resume, tapping his foot against the floor.

“Is that what I think it is?” Logan asked incredulously, once he was breathing again.

Remy nodded. “Yup. Can I make coffee?”

Thomas nodded slowly, but it was clear he was much more focused on the previous topic at hand.

“You have a soulmate?” He asked. “Oh my gosh! What’s their name? Aren’t you gonna tell us about them?”

“Well, his name’s Patton,” Remy began, heading towards the coffee machine and immediately getting to work to make himself a large mug. “It’s his birthday today – it was actually, like, 2am, or something – and he’s real cute. I think you’ll both like him.”

Thomas exchanged a look with his husband – the former much more openly thrilled, whilst the latter looked more confused, though undeniably pleased. He then stood up, opening his arms immediately.

“I think this calls for a family hug,” Thomas grinned.

Logan sighed, but put his own coffee mug back down, getting up obediently.

Remy groaned. “Really? Before my coffee? Do I have to?”

“Yup! Right now,” Thomas said, wrapping one arm around Logan’s waist and resting his chin on his head, keeping his other arm outstretched, awaiting their son. “This is a big moment! It calls for a family hug. C’mere.”

“There is no point refusing, Remy,” Logan said dryly. “I learnt that a long time ago.”

“Aww, you love me.”

“Of course. That is why we got married, after all.”

Remy groaned again. “Are you two really flirting, right now? Gross.”

“Well, if you want us to stop flirting, you’re gonna have to join the hug.”

Remy sighed exaggeratedly, dragging his feet as he walked up to his dads, reluctantly joining the family hug. Then, he pulled back as quickly as he could get away with, making a face and turning back to the coffee machine. He quickly made himself a large mug – with excessive amounts of milk and sugar, something his father would usually criticise, though he seemed to turn a blind eye for today.

Remy then sat down at the table, beside Thomas, sipping eagerly at his coffee and leaning back in his chair.

His fathers didn’t take their eyes off of his arm, clearly reading the words, and after about a minute, Remy rolled his eyes, placing the coffee on his table and crossing his arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Attitude, Remy,” Thomas sighed. “Be nice. And we’re looking at your arm because we’re excited! You have a soulmate, that’s a really big deal! We should celebrate.”

Remy perked up. “Celebrate?”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Perhaps tonight we could have dinner at the Italian place that you like.”

“Ooh, the one with that fancy pasta?”

“Weren’t we planning on going there tomorrow?” Thomas asked his husband.

Remy blinked, surprised. “We were?”

Thomas blinked, and then gave his husband a slightly sheepish smile. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”

Logan sighed. “Well, I think we can put that off for tomorrow, then. Today... you may invite a few friends over.” Remy opened his mouth, but Logan quickly continued, interrupting him before he could speak. “Three friends, maximum. No parties.”

Remy pouted. “Only three? Lame.”

“If you complain, we’ll bring it down to two.”

“Three sounds great!”

***

Patton picked up his phone, holding it to his ear as he paced casually around his room.

“Emile!” He greeted. “How are you?”

“Happy birthday, Pat!” Emile greeted cheerfully, and Patton could practically hear the usual smile on his face. “And I’m doing great. Virgil invited his brother to dinner yesterday, so that was fun, and I had a real breakthrough with one of my clients, too. You?”

“I’m good! Hey, do you think this counts as Remy and my anniversary? I mean, I know we haven’t actually really met, yet, but it’s been a year since we first spoke, and we are soulmates. Does that count? Would it be weird to count it?”

Emile hummed. “I think that if you want it to count, it counts.”

“That’s a bit vague,” Patton sighed.

Emile laughed. “That’s just how it works, I’m afraid. How is Remy anyway? It’s his birthday tomorrow, right?”

Patton perked up at the opportunity to talk about his soulmate. “Remy’s great! He got a new job at the Starbucks near his house; he’s pretty excited about it. And yup, it’s his birthday tomorrow! He turns eighteen. It’s a funny coincidence, isn’t it? That our birthdays are so close?”

“It’s actually a lot more common for soulmates to have these similarities than you’d think,” Emile said. “Close birthdays, close locations, things like that. I mean, Virgil and I were both born in the same hospital.”

“Really? Oh, that’s cool!” Patton smiled.

He sat down on his bed, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged, and moving so his back was against the wall, half-sitting on one of his pillows.

“Yup! I’ve researched a lot about these things,” Emile said. “And- oh, Virgil, there you are!”

Patton heard rustling on the other end of the line, like Emile was temporarily putting his phone down, probably to greet and kiss his husband. He waited patiently, humming a song from the Steven Universe movie and drumming his fingers against his leg. His eyes scanned the various words written across his arms. Shiny black and glittery light blue. There were doodles, too – lines connecting the dots of his freckles, done by himself, and little stars and moons and hearts by Remy.

Then the rustling resumed, more movement, and Patton stopped humming.

“Morning, Pat,” Virgil greeted.

Patton smiled. “Virgil! How’s work going?”

“Not bad. I helped a guy arrange a hate-bouquet for his ex-boyfriend yesterday, so that was fun.”

“Sounds interesting!”

Virgil hummed in agreement, and it sounded like he was nodding. “I’m gonna hand the phone back to Emile, now. Happy birthday, kid.”

“Thanks!”

There was another moment of rustling, and then Emile returned.

“Okay, Virgil and I have to get to work,” Emile said. “We’re stopping by later for dinner, dad already knows. And, before you ask, no I will not tell you what your gift is, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

Patton pouted. “Aww, okay. Bye!”

“Bye!”

Patton hung up the phone, before switching over to the texting app, and opening up his conversation with Remy.

PATTON

Hey im running out of space

So im gonna clean my arm

Can you too?

Remy responded almost immediately, as he usually did.

REMY

sure

one sec

Patton smiled, getting up and pocketing his phone. He headed over to the bathroom, quickly scrubbing away the words on his arms (he could leave the ones still remaining on his legs and torso, for now), and watching as Remy’s words disappeared at about the same time.

He then returned to his bedroom, sitting back down on his bed and fetching and uncapping his favourite pen.

The moment the tip of his pen touched his skin, a small black dot appeared just below it, like Remy was doing the exact same on his side – unintentionally trying to write in unison. All of a sudden, a wave of peace and happiness washed over Patton, but the emotions didn’t come from within himself. No, they came from an outside source, from somewhere else. Not from him.

From Remy.

At first, Patton was confused, disoriented, and then his heart skipped a beat, and he lifted his pen from his wrist.

The feeling stopped.

He then returned the pen to his wrist, creating another dot of light blue ink. For a moment, nothing happened, the feeling didn’t return, but then a small black speck appeared just beside his.

This time, the happiness was joined by an almost cautious excitement, tinged with something else.

What was it?

Love?

Love.

It felt like Patton was loving himself, except the love came from elsewhere, it came from Remy. Like a warm, comfortable blanket of love, wrapping around him and keeping him safe.

Patton beamed, wide and toothy and delighted, leaning back against the pillows and practically wiggling with excitement, careful to keep his pen tip on his wrist. A similar, thrilled feeling came back at him, and Patton quickly realised that whatever feelings he was getting from Remy, Remy was probably getting some very similar feelings in return from him.

damn babe

either something v weird is happening to me or thats ur feelings im feeling

I can feel it too!!!

Oh my gosh!

good i was worried i might be drunk

Have you been drinking?

nah thats why i was worried lmao

would be v weird to be drunk with no booze

Well that sure would be unusual!

The feelings from Remy weren’t constant, they only surfaced when both Patton and Remy were writing at once – flashes of emotions that were practically addicting. He wanted to keep feeling those feelings forever.

this is v weird

on and off

think itll get more constant the more we talk?

like we wont need to be both writing at the same time to feel it or smth?

Yeah!

I think so

Thats what happened with Em and Virge at least

cool

cant wait

There was a brief pause, and then Remy’s writing resumed.

can we doodle?

might make the empathy connection thingy better

Sure!

Patton giggled, unable to help himself, before pressing the tip of his pen to one of his freckles and drawing a thin line from it to another. Then another and another and another. Over and around the written words. He wasn’t making any specific shape or pattern in particular, just connecting the numerous dots. As he did this, Patton felt new shapes and doodles appearing on his legs, though he couldn’t see them through his trousers. Hearts and stars and moons and pawprints, most likely. The last one was new – Patton’s favourite.

He could feel Remy’s peace and contentment and love (love, love), like it was flowing through the air and seeping through his skin, filling him with happiness. Sometimes, it even increased for a brief moment, usually just after Patton’s happiness bubbled over into delighted giggles. It was a cycle – happiness creating happiness creating happiness.

Patton loved Remy. Remy loved Patton.

Love. Love. Love.

***

“Hey, Remy!”

Remy glanced up from his phone, straightening up as noticed and watched his best friend, Toby, approaching him. His foot tapped impatiently against the pavement, and his sunglasses were on to shield his eyes from bright midday sun.

“Gurl, what was taking you so long?” Remy complained, stuffing his phone into his pocket and crossing his arms, practically pouting. “I’ve been waiting here for, like, hours.”

Toby gave him a dry look. “I’m ten minutes late.”

“And that’s, like, ten hours in gay-and-in-a-hurry time.”

“In a hurry? What the hell are we even doing? Your text was very vague.”

“Well, it’s my dad’s birthday in a-”

“Which one?”

“Thomas. Bitch, stop interrupting me.”

Toby laughed, and Remy glared at him. He held his hands up defensively in mock surrender, and then gestured for Remy to continue.

“Anyway, it’s my dad’s birthday on Sunday and I’m supposed to get him a gift. I dunno what, though, so you’re gonna help me.”

“I’m pretty sure you know him better than I do.”

Remy shushed him. “Gurl, I am not letting you get out of helping me. So, we’re going to-��

He suddenly froze, going silent. Remy’s brow then creased, too, and after a moment of stillness he began to rapidly pat his arms and legs, like he was looking for something, though he didn’t seem to find it. Toby gave him a bewildered look.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I can feel Patton’s emotions,” Remy said.

He could, but only barely – just little hints of Patton, pricking the edges of his soul – much less than he was used to, but still impossible to ignore. He was used to these feelings by now, always recognising them immediately, though this time it was... different.

“Okay... so, he’s writing to you? Isn’t that normal?”

Remy looked back at him, looking just as confused as Toby. “No, he isn’t. He isn’t writing to me. No ink.”

“He... isn’t?”

“I can always feel it,” Remy explained. “Always. But not right now. Why... why-” He froze, his eyes widening behind his dark sunglasses.

“What?”

“He must be close. He must- oh my god, he must be close!” Remy looked around quickly, at all of the surrounding pedestrians. None of them looked right – none of them were Patton – but he could practically sense him. He was so close.

Toby blinked. “Really?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes. Yes, really. I know what I’m talking about!” Remy exclaimed, perhaps a little harsher than intended. “The empath shit only happens when you write or when you’re close. Gurl, that’s, like, common knowledge.”

Toby held his hands up. “Right, uh... sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So, how are we gonna find him?”

Remy’s brow scrunched up in thought. “I don’t know.”

His best friend shrugged, even more lost than he was.

“Maybe... maybe...” Remy continued, trailing off, before he suddenly straightened up. “It’ll get stronger the closer I get to him, so I just have to follow where it’s stronger, right? Like... like getting warmer and colder.”

Toby nodded slowly. “That makes sense. So, uh, walk around, and we’ll go in the direction that makes it stronger.”

Remy immediately began to pace in circles around Toby, pulling a slightly panicked face when at one point the feeling completely disappeared. Then, it got stronger, a wave of anticipation and curiosity, nervousness and excitement.

It suddenly hit Remy that if he could feel Patton, then Patton could feel him, too.

Patton was probably looking for him.

The corners of Remy’s lips twitched up into a smile. He was practically oozing excitement, and it was contagious, as Patton’s also seemed to increase – even Toby began smiling, too.

Toby patted him on the shoulder.

“Go on, follow your gut. I’ll be right behind you.”

Remy immediately turned on his heel, sprinting in the direction the emotions seemed to be coming from, and Toby almost tripped over his own feet following him. The empathy got stronger and stronger and stronger with every step, until it was even stronger than it usually was, and as his excitement further increased, so did Patton’s.

He rounded a corner, and immediately ran right into someone running at a similar speed, and they both tumbled to the ground with two loud thumps.

“Ah, fuck,” Remy groaned, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose as a jolt of pain shot down his leg.

“Oof,” The other boy winced.

His voice was like a bell, ringing through the air: suddenly the only sound that Remy could hear.

That was when Remy realised that Patton’s emotions were now equal to his own – mixing together in Remy’s soul until they were one and the same. It was almost like they were thinking and feeling as one, which was rather disorienting, to say the least.

Patton... Patton was right in front of him.

Remy opened his eyes, immediately coming face-to-face with the most gorgeous person he had even seen – a wide-eyed and freckled boy, about a year younger than Remy, staring back at him with parted lips and an equally startled expression. He was wearing a blue and grey t-shirt, showing off his arms and the words Remy had written to him today, and all the constellations he’d doodled on his own skin. Now, Remy could see the stars that he’d been missing, and, in his opinion, they were even better than the ones in the night sky.

Patton.

Patton, Patton, Patton.

“Patton,” Remy breathed.

“Remy.”

Remy laughed, uncontrolled and loud and delighted, sitting up straight and taking Patton’s hand in his own, squeezing it. It was warm and soft, Remy never wanted to let go, and when Patton squeezed back, he felt... complete. Perfect. Heaven.

Patton smiled – like a shining sun, one that thankfully didn’t hurt to look at, as Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Wow,” Remy laughed. “You’re... wow.”

“Wow,” Patton echoed.

People were probably staring at them – Toby included – but Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of Patton to check. Patton seemed to be doing similarly, his eyes slowly taking in every part of Remy’s body, before returning to his face, staring into his eyes.

Patton’s eyes were brown, like honey in the sunlight. Beautiful.

“It’s... it’s nice to finally meet you,” Patton said softly.

“Likewise.”

There was a beat.

“You are gorgeous,” Remy continued, the words coming out before he could stop himself. He almost regretted blurting it out, but then Patton’s face turned a particularly pretty shade of pink, and Remy immediately grinned.

Patton squeezed his hand. “You, too.”

“Oh, I know I’m hot, babe,” Remy said, making Patton giggle. “But you, you’re... you’re an angel. Like, damn, how the hell did I get so lucky? I must’ve done something really freaking amazing in a past life to have deserved you.”

“You’re even more of a flirt in person,” Patton smiled, a little teasingly.

Remy laughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I warned you.”

“You did,” Patton said, smiling fondly.

“Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” Remy asked suddenly. His tone of voice was casual, like he was joking, but they both knew – Patton could probably sense – that he was serious.

Patton didn’t hesitate, answering quickly. “No. I mean, yes. I mean... no, it’s not too soon. Please?”

Remy didn’t waste any time, reaching forward, carefully cradling Patton’s face in his hand and kissing him gently. His lips were soft and warm and Remy never wanted to stop kissing him. Patton covered Remy’s hand with his own free one, kissing back a little clumsily, though it was without a doubt enthusiastic.

Then, he got a little too enthusiastic, and Remy tumbled backwards, pulling Patton along with him.

They broke apart, and after a moment of startled – slightly awkward – silence, they both started laughing loudly, and Patton climbed off of him. He finally stood up, holding out his hand and helping Remy up, too.

The pedestrians that had been watching them had mostly all moved on by now, leaving only Toby hovering awkwardly nearby. He had his phone out, trying to distract himself, give them some privacy, though he was undeniably still keeping an eye out. It wasn’t every day you saw a soulmate pair’s first meeting.

Remy took Patton’s hands in his own, looking him over again and again and again.

An idea came to him – not a new one, one he’d thought about and talked about and dreamed and daydreamed about a million times – and he grinned in a way that he could feel made Patton’s heart skip a beat.

“Remember how I said I wanted to kiss every freckle?"

#me #writing #sleepality #sanders sides #remy sanders #sleep sanders #patton sanders #mosleep #soulmate au #human au #sanders sides au #thomas sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #cartoon therapy #virmile #thomgan

318 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 4 years

Note

hi! could i maybe request for arthur shelby (mlm if you can? but if not thats ok!) maybe where he meets someone who has a child from a previous relationship (who they looks after on their own) and arthur sort off takes them under his wing i just need arthur getting all the love he needs and deserves

Hiya :) i hope you like this! This is the first time I’ve written a male reader, so plz be nice to me! I also had a go writing in the third person (he, his rather that you, yours) let me know if that’s something you’d like to see more of

A Helping Hand

warnings: swearing, period typical internalised homophobia

“Morning... this the bookie?” YN asked, chewing his lip nervously.

“Depends who’s askin’,” the man at the door responded with a gruff voice. YN dug his hand in his pocket, pulling out some coins.

“No. I’ve come to put a few bob on a horse or two. I’m piss-poor and I was told the Shelby’s have the best rates,”

“Piss-poor, eh, and spending your last few bob on horses? You’re in the right place. You’d better come in then, hadn’t you?” he jolted his head for you to come in, but his eyes widened when he saw the little girl stood holding his hand. “Er... I’m not sure if she...”

“Sir, I’m not leaving my daughter on the street. She’s only three and we don’t know anyone around here,” he set his jaw, and Arthur sighed.

“Gimme a minute,”

YN waited, picking his daughter, Evelyn up. The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face, her dark hair falling out of the wonky plaits he had put it in. “I know, darling,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. “Just this shop and then it’s home time, alright? We’ll have tea and then tuck you up in bed, hey?” Evelyn nodded and settled in his arms, already dozing.

The door creaked open and another man surveyed YN. “My brother Arthur says you’re wanting to blow your last few bob on bets. Can you afford to do that?” he gestured to the girl in your arms.

“Sir... it’s my only option to come into a bit of money. Spread it over a few horses, I’m bound to get something back. I’ve tried the mines and the factories but they won’t take me on because of... well, my situation and my... injuries sustained from the war,”

“The war eh? You’d better come in then. Your daughter can come too,”

YN nodded and followed him into the shop. The man, Tommy, pointed him into an office labelled Arthur Shelby and the man who initially answered the door looked up. “Arthur, see which horses this gentleman wants to bet on. Then take down his details. I need a new bookie and he needs work,”

“Yes, Tom. Er... come in, Mr...?”

“YLN,” he filled in, and sat in the chair opposite Arthur, Evelyn settled on his lap.

“Right well... Monoghan Boy has been doing well, you’ll get a few quid back on him. Best have a go at Secret Comrade as well, and-”

“Hanna’s Hope,” YN said suddenly, pointing to a name lower down on the list.

“Er... well, she’s not got the greatest odds, see, and if you’re wanting to make some money...”

“Hanna... my wife’s name, that,” YN said softly, fingertip still tracing the name.

“She not with us anymore, mate?” Arthur said gently.

YN shook his head, holding Evelyn a little closer to his chest. “Died a few months ago... Spanish Flu. My little Evie is all I have left,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, getting all sentimental. Not very manly.’ Id like to split this between Monoghan Boy, secret Comrade and Hanna’s Hope please,” he put his money on the table as Arthur wrote out a receipt.

“Right, here you are. They normally get the races on the radio in the Garrison. gets rowdy on race nights though,” he nodded at Evelyn. “It’s in the papers though, the next day, and you can bring that in to pick up your winnings for up to two weeks after the race. And er... Tommy wants me to get a few details. says you need a job,”

Half an hour later, YN was being walked home by Arthur Shelby, carrying a sleeping Evie as they walked. “So you were a soldier then? You said Evelyn was only three?”

He chuckled slightly. “I got given leave after the Somme. Shattered my shin bone, couldn’t walk for weeks, let alone march. Hanna was heartbroken when I had to leave again in 1917,” he was silent for a moment. “I’ll never forget the day I came off that train and was home for good... My Hanna stood waiting for me with Evie on her hip...”

“I remember seeing my little brother and sister,”

“Did Thomas not go to war with you? Everyone said he threw his medals in the cut,”

“I’m the oldest of five,” he grinned, hands in his pockets. “It was me, Tommy and John who went to France. Ada played nurse down the community centre and Finn was just a bit older than your Evelyn when it all kicked off,”

They chatted a bit longer before they reached the front door. “This is us,” YN said, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Thank you... for listening and not taking the piss,”

Arthur grinned. “It’s alright. We were all comrades in France, eh? Oh... be at the shop at nine sharp tomorrow alright. Don’t worry, you can bring Evelyn. John’s wife is up the duff and she sits in the back all day with her kids. She’ll be in safe hands,”

YN hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Thank you, so much. Will you tell your brother, and your other brother’s wife in advance for me?” Arthur nodded.

“Go on. Go and get that one to bed, she looks knackered. You look like you could do with a good night’s sleep too,”

***

Almost a year later, Arthur and YN had grown close. With his earnings from the bookies, YN was able to move into a nicer house with Evelyn and Arthur was a regular visitor. One evening, after Evelyn was tucked up in bed, the two men were sat drinking whiskey in front of the fire.

“I still don't think i’ve thanked you enough you know,” YN said, setting his whiskey down.

“You have, trust me,” Arthur said gently, leaning forward slightly and knocking back the rest of his drink. YN leaned forward too, his eyebrows tugged as if in question, before his lips barely brushed against Arthur’s.

YN jolted back suddenly as if zapped by lightning. “Shit. Shit. Arthur, I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t tell Tommy- I- I can't lose my job. I can’t lose Evie. Please,” he flinched back, expecting to be beaten to a pulp.

Arthur stared at him, still in the same spot. “You’ve very soft lips,” he murmured, rubbing his lips with the pad of his thumb. “C’mere, calm down. you won’t lose Evie or your job. C’mere,”

Tentatively, YN stood from his seat and stumbled over to Arthur. He rested his head on his stomach and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You make my head go quiet, YN,” he mumbled. “All I ever hear is screaming a-and bangs. But you... you make it go away. I feel safe near you,”

Instinctively YN stroked his fingers through Arthur’s hair, shutting his eyes. “It’s illegal, Arthur,” he murmured, though he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Everything I do is illegal, YN... it fits doesn’t it? We’ll make it work. I promise. We’ll make it work. I’ll make it work for you and for Evie, alright? But just say the word and I’ll fuck right off and never touch you again,”

“Arthur... I don’t think I could live without you,”

And so the two men stumbled upstairs to bed, sharing another tentative kiss on the way. They slotted together perfectly under the covers, Arthur's lanky arms and legs engulfing YN’s, and together they settled into the first peaceful sleep either had had in years, at peace with themselves and the world, despite the everyday horrors surrounding them in Small Heath.

#peaky blinders #fanfiction #imagine #fluff #arthur shelby x male reader #male reader #arthur shelby #request #mlm #lgbt fanfiction

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 5.5K+ Warnings: Language *Disclaimer, Hi everybody. I first of all would like to apologise to those who have been waiting for months for a new chapter, this chapter has been partially written since September, however in that time, my aunt passed away. It has hit me very hard, and during this time, I needed to take a step away from writing, to be with my family, and also to take time to look after myself and my mental health. I’m doing better now, and with that means I am slowly updating my works which have been neglected as of late. So for those who are returning viewers of this series, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back and waiting with me. And for those new to this series, welcome and I hope you stay with us. Much love to you all!

Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine can be found here! (That’s right baby, we’ve officially reached double digits for chapters!)

Chapter Ten: Darkest paradise I’ve ever seen

Flying into Noumea, your headphones pressed snuggly against your ears, you watch as miles upon miles of crystal blue ocean spans ahead of you. From just about every direction you look through the small aeroplane window, all you can see is blue. That is aside from the tiny speck on the horizon, which you can only assume is in fact, your destination. It seems awfully far away, and a part of you has managed to convince the less logical section of your brain, that you still have plenty of time before you arrive. Before the plan takes motion. Before shit goes down. Or you have months to continue planning your take down of the Lushnick’s…. But as you gaze out the window once more, the tiny speck growing ever larger, your rational mind takes over, reminding you that in less than two weeks, provided everything went according to plan, the Lushnick’s would be yours.

As the plane touches down at La Tontouta international airport, you await the captain’s departure announcement before standing up and stretching your cramping legs, feeling your joints pop, and muscles ache from having spent too long in one position. Once the initial rush of passengers have passed you, you reach up into the overhead compartments and retrieve the navy blue rucksack you had stowed up there. With the bag flung over your shoulder, you disembark the plane, and head towards the baggage carousel within the terminal. Within your rucksack, along with a few emergency items on the off chance your bags were lost, included five various ID cards, all hand made for you by One’s slightly shady yet reliable connection; a wad of Pacific Franc, the currency of New Caledonia, and of course your laptop. One had assured you that the apartment you would be using as a base had all the setup you required, however you felt more confident with your own computer, even just as a backup for an emergency. As you cross the tarmac, you recall the burner phone One had given you upon your departure, the only contacts held within were those of the Ghost’s, though knowing that you still have the ability to communicate with your team before their arrival helped alleviate some of your nerves. Switching the phone off flight mode, you held it firmly in your sweaty palm, half expecting it to buzz to life with missed notifications, as it would if it were your true phone. The influx of notifications never come, there is however one which does buzz through. ‘Are you safe?’

You scan over the message again and again, reading just about every possible subtext into it within a matter of seconds, before finally, you take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then release. ‘It’s Four, don’t be so dramatic. He actually cares about you.’ You remind yourself, just as your thumbs tap against the phone keyboard. ‘Just landed. Collecting bags then heading to the apartment. Should be there within the hour.’ You reply, pocketing the phone again and keeping your eyes peeled for you luggage.

The phone vibrates again, but this time you ignore it, opting instead to find the Taxi rank now that you had procured your bags. On you way through the airport, you discard you boarding pass into a trashcan, saying a mental goodbye to the alias of Ginevra Connelly. Of course you still kept the ID card with Ginevra’s details in your bag just in case, but the aim was to only use each alias once. One for flying, one for working, and one for personal business. The others were just there if any unexpected events should arise. Once outside, you only need wait a few minutes before a taxi pulls up, the driver popping the trunk of the car for you to deposit your bags. Once the trunk is closed, you slide into the back seat, sitting directly behind the driver. “Bonjour.” The driver offers with a small smile, meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

You smile gently back. “Bonjour.” You greet, before reciting off the address to the apartment in Noumea which One had insisted you memorise.

With a nod of his head, the taxi driver speeds off, either ignoring or simply disregarding all speed signs which he passed. As he drove like a bat out of hell, you check your phone once more. ‘That’s good. Glad you’re alright.’ Four had replied, earning a small smile to creep over your lips.

‘Well, the flight didn’t kill me. Can’t say the same about my driver though….’

‘Axe murderer?’

‘Nothing quite as exciting. Or at least, I didn’t notice an axe when I checked the trunk…. Just a crazy driver is all. You’ll see when you get here. It looks to be a trend.’

‘Can’t wait!’ Before a rapid second response of. ‘Stay out of trouble until I get there please?’

‘I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Love yo-‘ You begin typing, before frantically deleting the characters. As much as you wanted to send the message, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. Something about sending those words, via a burner phone while you’re in a totally different country, just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the nerves of the mission talking? No matter, you would saver the phrase for when you saw Four in person.

You put your phone away after that, not trusting yourself to continue the conversation with the direction it was headed. You knew Four was still, not necessarily mad at you, but disappointed that you hadn’t told him of your early departure. You were also acutely aware of his fear for you being in a foreign country all alone. You were positive that if it hadn’t been for the sudden announcement of your leaving, then he would have tried much harder to convince you and One to let him arrive with you. Of course, deep down you knew that despite Four’s protective nature, he understood why he was unable to arrive with you, or with the others. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the plan any less.

The driver watches as you put your phone away and takes this time to engage you in the typical taxi, passenger chit chat. “Parlez-vous français?” He enquires, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what he had asked. You had a slight knowledge of the French language, but it was very, very basic.

“No sorry, I don’t speak French.” You offer with a half smile, shrugging lightly as you turn your attention to the scenery blurring past you.

“Ah, a tourist then. Here for a vacation, are you? He continues, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he changes lanes in what would be considered a highly illegal maneuver literally anywhere else in the World.

Deciding that if you looked out the window any longer you may become motion sick, you turn your focus to staring directly at the back of the drivers head. “Mhm, I’ve always wanted to visit, go snorkelling, maybe go for a ride on one of those glass bottom boats? Who knows!” You ramble on, though nothing you say is quite a lie. In truth, you had always wanted to visit Noumea, and were supposed to when you were thirteen. You were supposed to go on a cruise to the South Pacific Islands as a birthday present, however that never quite happened. You suppose in the long run, it’s a good thing you never came here as a child, if you had, then this mission may not be going ahead. Or at least not with you at the helm.

“My cousin owns a glass bottom boat, he runs tours every day. Here, take this card, it has his details.” He pulls a crinkled business card out of his shirt pocket, and passes it back to you. You take it graciously, taking a moment to read over it before stowing it away in your bag.

“Thank you.”

As you drive through the city, the driver points out the occasional tourist attraction, to which you nod and play along with the façade you had created. Most things he says go in one ear then out the other, but there is one which catches your attention. “Over the is the hospital. Might be good to know where that is just in case.” He offers with a grin, gesturing to the large building on your left.

Your head whips around to face that direction in an instant, eyes growing wide as you drink in the sight. “That’s the hospital…” You whisper, mouth going dry as you watch the building disappear into the distance behind you.

The rest of the drive is kept in relative silence, mostly on your part. Having finally seen your destination for this mission, it all suddenly felt so real. Inside that building, which should be used for good, were two of the most vile and wicked people you know to exist. They had nearly two weeks left before they met they’re match however, and that thought alone set a chilling grin on your lips.

*****

Once you arrived at the apartment you were faced with a serious problem, a lack of keys to the front door. Surely One should’ve thought of this, he owned the fucking place! “Well that’s just great. Now what?” You hiss to yourself, glaring daggers at the wooden door that currently separated you from your new, temporary home and work space.

Reaching behind, you fish around in your bag in search of your phone. Muttering swears beneath your breath, until finally your fingers clasp onto the cool, smooth device. Scowling at the screen as you scroll through the limited contacts, you press call against One. Standing with your back leaning against the front door, one arm folded across your chest, and your left foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“Don’t tell me you’re already in trouble.” One grumbles after the sixth ring. His words causing your sour mood to only worsen.

“No I am not.” You hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper as you hear voices out on the street.

“What do you need Eight?”

“I want to know how I’m supposed to get into the bloody apartment! There’s not fucking keys!”

There’s a pause on the line for a minute or two, and for the first time ever, you realise that you’ve rendered One, the fearless leader, utterly speechless. “The keys are on the table.” His voice is mumbled, and you barely catch what he says.

“I’m sorry, what was that now?”

One groans, and you can almost picture his frustrated face, perhaps he would even be pinching the bridge of his nose… “I said, the keys are on the table, inside the apartment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and rightly so. “Well, that’s helpful isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sassy with me missy.”

“Why not? This is your house isn’t it? Shouldn’t you have a set of keys with you?”

“It’s one of my houses..”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“Did you bring your lock pick?”

“Of course I did. The question is, which bag is it in….” You mumble, gazing around at the bags you had discarded by the door.

“I think you know what to do. Good luck kid.” There’s a grin to One’s voice now, and you have half a mind to tell him off for his stupidity, however before you get the chance, the line goes dead.

With a deep sigh, you resign yourself to do the only thing you can, break in. Well technically it wasn’t breaking in, not when you were supposed to be living here, though you imagine that logic may not stand up in court if someone were to catch you in the act.

Withing ten minutes, all of your bags lay open on the ground, items of clothing strewn about the place, as you had frantically searched the brown leather pouch which housed your lockpick tools. Upon finding it, you groan at the mess you had made, stuffing everything back in the bags haphazardly, you would deal with the unorganised mess later.

Gazing around, you double then triple check that there is no one around to see you. The voices on the street had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of birds chirping, and the distant crash of waves. Confident you’re alone, you bow over the door handle, and begin picking the lock. It occurs to you that perhaps this was One’s plan all along. After all, he was the one to provide you with said lock picking kit. You brush that thought off, and return to the task at hand, fiddling with the handle for roughly fifteen minutes until finally you hear a click. “Eureka!” You declare quietly yet triumphantly. The door swings open, and dusty air breezes out past you, causing you to cough and sneeze. Blimey, this place must’ve been closed up for months!

Inside the apartment, you don’t take too long looking around, you’ll have time for that later. You take note of where the master bedroom is, and claim that as yours by dumping your bags atop the bed, and seek out the bathroom. With everything in order as far as you could see, you take your laptop and bring it out into the main living area where what you can only assume is your area has been set up. There are three monitors set up on a large oak desk, which looked wildly out of place in the otherwise, holiday home themed house. The largest sitting in the middle of the desk, with two smaller screens on either side. It’s not a perfect set up, but it will work for what you need, and that’s all that really matters, especially considering most of your work would be done from inside the hospital.

Settling down at the makeshift study desk, you take a final moment to glance around the apartment, spotting a set of what you presume is house keys sitting on the dining table. “Well, at least One was right about where you were.” You mutter quietly, glaring at the object in question.

*****

Infiltrating the hospital database took far longer than you had initially expected. Over the past few weeks, you had made practice runs of worming your way into other systems for different hospitals around the world, however at no point had you thought to test your access to the hospital you actually needed entrance to. “It can’t be any different to any of the others.” You surmise, squinting at the screen before you, elbows propped up on the desk, and chin resting on your interlocked fingers. Truth be told it wasn’t that much different, not in the scheme of things, however someone, and goodness knows who, had made the entire system nearly impenetrable! Key word being nearly. However, if there was one thing you had learned after years of sneaking your way into systems you shouldn’t, it was that no matter how tricky a program may first appear, there is always a way in! And this system was no different.

One pizza delivery and three energy drinks later, the start of a migraine -which was either caused by your frustration, or the copious amounts of caffeine- and you were finally in! The hospital was, in every sense of the word, yours. The possibilities, oh the possibilities! Your first task only took a few moments, scanning through encrypted lists until you came across the one which housed the contact details for all members of staff. The list consisted of the staff members name, followed by their position of work, contact number and email, and finally a next of kin. Truly, this list looked to have been composed specifically for you and your needs. Copying the details you required for a one Mister Frank Sea, and pasting them momentarily into a word document, you move onto your second task. Page upon page you read through, jumping between links and praying that perhaps this time you had found the correct page, you finally make it to the hospital security system. You blame your caffeinated jittery hands for how long it took you to find. Once in the system, you begin changing over a few simple details, nothing too extreme that could potentially be cause for concern if anyone were to see, but the changes you made were imperative to the mission. The contact name for the security recruitment agency remained the same, however you now deleted out the previous phone number, adding in One’s phone number as planned. Finally came task three, which you had been dreading since you woke up this morning. The guilt of what you were about to do had been gnawing at you all week. You weren’t a bad person, not really; you kept telling yourself, hoping that perhaps if you said so enough, it would be true. You feared sending this email would ruin Frank, that it would destroy him… ‘It’s just business.’ You can hear One telling you, his exact words after you had both come up with this plan. “It’s just business, I’m just doing my job. It’s for the greater good.” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. You don’t give yourself another moment to dwell on things, and instead quickly write up your email on the address you had created specifically for the mission. The email informs Frank of his urgent presence being required in Scotland to discuss the legalities of his and his wife’s separation, and custody of his children. Holding your breath, you hit send, watching impatiently until the message had left your outbox. By the time Frank would arrive in Scotland, the company you had pretended to work for would be closed for three weeks due to renovations. He would have no way of contacting them to find out why his presence was required, and of course try as he might, there was no chance he would receive a reply to any of his emails to you. So for three weeks, he would stick it out at home, arguing with his wife, all while you take over for him at the hospital.

*****

Soft pinks and oranges had begun to coat the evening sky as dusk rolled in, and for the first time in years, Four found himself staring up at the sky, envisioning a future. A future which didn’t involve hurting or killing people, no matter how evil and vile they were. Just a plain, normal future. He didn’t quite know what had brought these thoughts upon him, they were the types of thoughts he had managed to banish into the deepest parts of his mind. In fact, the last time he had thought about a normal life, was shortly after Six had died. They all mourned him of course, but the reality of losing Six had weighed down on him greatly. And for close to three months, Four had seriously considered abandoning the Ghosts, and starting a fresh life far away from them. At the time though, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave the team. And besides, he had no where to go, and no one to run to. But now? Now was different, he had you. The two of you could run away together, leave the Ghosts, leave this life behind. Start over wherever in the world you wanted you, far away from One and his plans of revenge against those who had wronged the world….

He shook his head, the images of normalcy which had formed in his minds eye, fading away, just as the sun was. He couldn’t leave, not when this was the closest thing to a family he had had since he was a toddler. If there was one thing he knew for sure, you don’t abandon your family. His own parents had taught him that the hard way.

Carefully, Four pushed himself up from where he had been relaxing atop his trailer. His back was stiff after having been laid down for what felt like too long, but he paid it little mind. As he leapt down to the ground, a loud yell echoed throughout base.

“Will somebody answer my phone? I can’t get to it right now!” It was One, yelling at the top of his lungs from god knows where, his voice sounded muffled though.

Next came Five’s screamed reply. “Where are you then?”

“Garage!” One yelled back.

“Coming, I’ll get it!” Four watched as Five went darting across base, kicking up red dust in her haste.

For interests sake, Four made his meandering way towards the garage, just to see what was so urgent about this phone call, and why One couldn’t get it. He strolled in, hands in his pants pockets, and hood drawn over his head. His eyes darting between Five, who was reading from a script scribbled in an old notebook while on the phone, to One who’s feet were sticking out from beneath a silver Audi R8.

“Good afternoon, leader security how may I help you?” Five recited in what was either the worst or perhaps best Dolly Parton imitation Four had ever heard. “Oh sure, you need a new head of security? How soon do you need them to start?” There was a pause, and Four stepped further over to the Audi, titling his head to the left as he lifted a quizzical brow. “Asap? Well where are y’all located?... Oh I see, let me transfer you.”

“You alright down there mate?” Four smirked giving One’s foot a gentle kick.

“Yep, never better. Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, you’re only like, ten steps away from your phone… Not sure why you couldn’t get it yourself is all.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, and rocking back on his heels.

One pauses for a few moments, selecting his next words carefully. “I just didn’t want to stop what I was doing midway through.”

Four crouched slightly, peering at the floor creeper One was reclined on beneath the car. One of the wheels had popped off entirely, while another on the same side was horrendously bent out of shape. “You’re stuck aren’t ya?”

“Yes I’m stuck.”

*****

Two hours later, your mobile rings with One’s caller ID flashing, grinning you answer with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Leader security recruitment how may I help you?” You recite in an overly practiced voice, not that the person on the other end of the line could tell, but it sure made you feel better, knowing you weren’t about to trip over your own words. One had done just as was planned, and upon playing receptionist for the security company, had transferred the call directly to you, and now it was time to get yourself employed.

The female voice on the other end of the line begins speaking frantically, telling you about how the current head of security for her hospital had just left unexpectedly, and that they needed someone to fill in for him until they could find out when he would return.

“Ma’am, it will all be fine, I assure you. Now can you please tell me your company code?” You smile, while typing aimlessly into a word document. So long as the woman on the phone could hear you typing, you would not raise any suspicion, even if all you were typing was smiley faces. “I see, and this is a hospital based in Noumea New Caledonia, is that correct? – Mhm no problems at all. How soon do you require someone to commence?” You type out the few details she tells you which are actually important to you, before returning to the faces. “I will have to see who I have in area who may be able to assist you. One of contractors recently moved to the area I believe for a change of scenery. May I put you on hold and see if I am able to call her?” The moment the woman agrees, you place the call on hold and laugh to yourself. The temptation to have an actual conversation with yourself just to keep the charade up is there, however considering as it had only been a few hours of you living alone, you felt you should at least attempt to keep the bouts of insanity to a minimum for now. “Hello, are you still there?” You ask a few minutes later. “Anastasia Breaker will be available as of tomorrow morning, if you could please forward all details regarding her employment to the following email address, then she will see you in the morning.” The woman is nearly in tears as she thanks you, promising she would send the information within minutes. “Of course, no problems. Have a lovely evening, and once again, thank you for choosing leader security.”

As the phone goes silent, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms above your head. You’d done it, you were in. Or rather Anastasia was in, but no matter who’s name was on the contract, you were the one who would be doing all the work.

*****

For the next few hours, you read through the multiple emails which arrived for Anastasia Breaker, advising you of where to go tomorrow morning, and who you would be meeting upon your arrival. It was nothing too unusual, or anything unexpected, the only downside was that you had been requested to arrive at 6 am. To some that may be ok, normal even. But to you, a perpetual night owl, it felt like torture. After laying out your clothing for the following morning, to allow for a slight sleep in, you lay down in the double bed you had claimed as yours. You knew it would likely end up being shared once the others arrived, but for now, it was all yours. The lights had all been turned out, leaving you in near complete darkness. The only light was that of the shining silver moon, peering down on you through a forest of thick trees. Try as you might however, sleep seemed to escape you. Perhaps it was nerves of tomorrow and your new ‘job’, or maybe it was just the fact you were sleeping in a new bed. No matter the cause, after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you eventually gave up. Sitting upright, you grab the burner phone off the nightstand, having left it beside you with an alarm on for the morning.

You stare down at the bare screen, so used to your own which was filled with various apps. On this phone however, there was nothing of interest to do. Your thumb hovered over your contacts, and you bite your lower lip in thought. You knew One would be furious if he found out you were using the phone as anything but emergency contacts and an alarm, but at the same time, you found yourself having a rather difficult time caring about him and what he thought while he was so far away. Finally, you press down on the contact, and listen to the phone ring on loudspeaker.

“Hello?” Four’s distinct voice carries through, and you feel a wave of comfort roll over you. His voice alone felt like home, and it almost frightened you to think that, especially considering how brief your relationship had been so far.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, Oh! I’m sorry love I had no idea. This number isn’t programmed into my phone, I genuinely thought it was a telemarketer or something!” He was rambling, and you could almost see the pale crimson blush which would be creeping up his neck and cheeks, as he too realised, he was rambling.

“It’s totally fine, I’m not really supposed to be calling you. But I needed to hear a friendly voice.”

“Who says you’re not supposed to call?”

“One.”

“Fuck him and his stupid rules!”

“I would really rather not.”

“You know what I mean, you idiot.” You can practically hear his eye roll through his words, and you can’t help but smile at that. At how well you know his mannerisms these days. “How has day one gone? Everything going according to plan?”

You nod, before recalling that he can’t see you. “Yep, things seem to be rather smooth sailing for now. I’ll be starting at the hospital tomorrow morning, and from there I can get everything else set in motion.”

“That’s brilliant, at this rate it’ll all be over before we know it!”

You pause for a moment, resting the phone on the pillow beside your head. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong hm? You don’t sound convinced?”

Rolling over, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’m just trying to come to terms with how quickly this is all happening, you know? Like, I feel it was just yesterday One announced who the targets were, and now suddenly I’m here? It’s all happening so fast.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I can’t quite wrap my head around it all either. But look at how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come! Remember that day when the targets were announced-“

“You mean the day I ran out of the briefing and nearly killed us both?” You interrupt, smirking slightly at the memory.

“Yes, that day. But look at you now, look at where you are! You’ve changed so much in such a short period of time. You’re far more prepared than any of us here at base are, and for us, this is either our second or third mission! For you, this is your first, and you’re already doing better than any of us could’ve imagined.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I stop panicking?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Eight, I promise.”

“Thank you, I – thank you.” You whisper, rolling to your side and looking down at the phone. You sigh deeply, closing your eyes tight before allowing them to slowly open. “Tell me something that no one else in the Ghosts knows about you.”

You hear him chuckle, a deep rumble which you wish you could wrap your arms around him and feel as it flowed through you. “Do you want something to laugh at?”

“Yes, I don’t want to cry tonight. Make it funny.”

Four hums to himself, and you curl around your pillow, cradling the phone near your chest. “Right, here’s one. Bet you didn’t know I have a criminal record as an arsonist!”

He sounds proud of himself, and for the life of you, you can’t fathom why. “You what now?”

“It was my first charge, long before the cops ever figured out I was stealing, which I had been doing for years before this occurred.”

“How long have you been a thief, Four?”

“A long while… But that’s a story for another time. This is about fire lord me!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had given himself, while leaving a mental note to ask him about his past one day, when you weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I was maybe 15 or 16, and was with this girl who I thought was made of pure heaven. I practically worshiped the ground she walked on, and daydreamed about her all day every day. To her though, I was a kid who was a year or two younger than her, and she just loved the attention, not matter who it came from. I knew she only spent a month with each of her boyfriends, but naive young me thought that maybe I could convince her to be with me forever. Spoiler alert, that didn’t work out. One night I decided to surprise her when she came home from dance lessons, her parents were out of town for the week, and I figured I would make a romantic evening for the two of us, and would allow her to be my first.” He pauses for a moment, as if wanting to see if you wanted to hear where this was going.

“It’s fine Four, just keep telling the story.” You giggle, shaking your head softly at where this was all going.

“Well I got super fancy, ordered takeout because heaven knows I cannot cook, even managed to nick a bottle of champagne from the local liquor store. It was cheap nasty stuff now that I think about it, but at the time, I felt very grown up. I lit candles all over her townhouse, there were some in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and even the kitchen. I think I went through an entire matchbook that night. So finally she gets home, and I’m nervous as hell. Legs jittery, forehead sweaty, and look the exact opposite of sexy like I had hoped for. She’s all smiles, and even thanks me for setting up a lovely evening. After we eat, she steps outside to have a smoke, and I clean up in the kitchen. The next thing I know, she’s shouting from the front door, and then the smoke alarming is blaring throughout the house. I run outside, and find her staring up at the second floor at her bedroom window, where billows of dark smoke are seeping out. Turns out, she had a cat I didn’t know about, and the fucker knocked down one of the candles, it landed near her bedroom curtains, and the flames engulfed pretty much the entire room. Cops and firemen came, shockingly they didn’t believe me when I said it was the cat. And the fact that I had been in her home without her for so long didn’t help my argument either….”

“Oh my goodness, so you were actually innocent? The cat got you a record?” You laugh, pressing your palm to your forehead.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. That cat is the reason I don’t do romantic anymore.” He grumbled playfully.

“Aw, and why’s that? Cat got your tongue?!” You chortle, you were definitely borderline tired now, because to you, that was officially the funniest pun in the world.

“Oh dear, oh no…. Eight that was terrible, please never say anything like that again.”

“Aww, come on! It was funny!”

“No love, no it wasn’t.”

There’s no use in arguing the point, you knew you were funny and that was all that mattered. “Fine, I’ll stop with the cat puns especially seeing as you’re not feline it…”

‘You are very annoying, you know that right?”

“Of course, but it’s part of my appeal!”

“Whatever you say. But I do think You need some sleep, because you sound hella tired right now.”

As if on que, a yawn slips from your lips, giving away just how tired you now were. “You may be right.”

“Good night love, good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll be amazing.”

You smile at his words, tracing your finger along the edge of the phone. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok.”

You end the call, and place the phone back on the nightstand. As you allowed your eyes to drift shut, you can’t help but feel just that little bit more confident that things were going just as they were planned.

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Chapter Eleven here!

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.17

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2294

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s been put on a stretcher, he still has a pulse and they are driving him to the nearest hospital while Y/N has to stay behind.

She knows that Dean’s in good hands, knows that he’s being taken care of but still, she wanted to go with him. Benny held her back, though.

“Hey, Y/N, watch this,” Benny winks at her as he slaps some handcuffs on Chuck's wrist and forces him to limp out of the studio on one leg.

Benny leans closer to her in passing, winks at her another time before he says, “The press has been informed and they’re waiting outside. Bet he likes that, huh?”

She follows them out, but steers clear of the press. One police officer is accompanying her to a vehicle, and has to go into the next police station to give her statement.

They release her after a couple of hours because she said that everything’s in the cabin but only Dean knew where it was and he has all the evidence on his phone and on his laptop. They would have to wait until Dean wakes up, and she hopes he does.

Benny had been with her the whole time, so at least she didn’t have to face the interrogation alone. It’s weird that Dean’s friends all care more about her than her own friend or husband ever did. Benny has also told her that they took Dean into surgery and he later also told her that he’s out but he’s not stable and they don’t know if he’ll survive.

She walks out of the police station ahead of Benny, and then it suddenly hits her. It hits her that she’s all alone. She doesn’t know where to go. Doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have money or a phone on her. Her home is some odd hundred miles away, too. She wraps her arms around herself, wondering what she should do.

“I’ve arranged a hotel bed for you. It’s close to the hospital. And I got Cas to drive Dean’s car out here, so you can take him home when he can be released.”

“You’re very optimistic,”

“If you’ve been through what we’ve been through, hope is all you have and nobody can take that away from you.”

Y/N cries without meaning to and Benny takes her into his arms. “Hey, he’ll wake up, alright? Dean’s a fighter. Always have been. And really, it’s not much that I can do for you, but I hope it’s enough.”

Brushing her tears away from her face, she looks up at Benny, “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, I do,” Benny chuckles, “Dean saved me more times than I can count. One time he got shot because of me. So yeah, that’s the least I can do for him.”

“Thanks.” She says again, doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” He holds out his hand, brushes a tear away with the pad of his thumb, “I can drop you off at the hospital if you want?”

“Yeah,” She smiles then, “I’d like that.”

The woman at the front desk wouldn’t let her go in to see Dean unless she can prove that she’s a family member. And she has no backup either because Benny’s needed back at the police station. He just dropped her off with the name of the hotel, and slips her two fifty dollar bills to tie her over until Cas gets here.

But then she remembers. She remembers that she still has the ID in her pocket.

She takes it out, slams it on the table, “Here, I’m his wife. So please, can you tell me where my husband is?”

Y/N runs, runs as fast as her feet would take her, got shouted at too, because apparently you aren’t supposed to run in here. She just really doesn’t care. She finds his room, knocks at the door, but there’s no answer. Her hand twists the doorknob, opens it hesitantly. She’s nervous as hell.

The room is lit in a dim light, he’s alone because the other bed is empty. She hears machines beeping but that’s not the thing that makes her heart stop beating. It’s the sight of Dean who’s laying there, a tube in his mouth, and there’s a ventilator that pumps air into his lungs. His chest moves up and down.

Y/N takes a seat on the chair next to Dean’s bed. He looks so fragile. She absolutely hates how it physically hurts her to see him like this.

Taking his hand in hers, she squeezes it before she lays her forehead onto his arm. “I’m here,” She whispers, and she’s trying not to cry. Tries to be strong because he would want her to be strong, “Come back to me, do you hear me, Dean?” She pauses, takes her time to breathe like he taught her to, “I don’t know what to do without you, so you have to wake up, okay? Wake up and help guide me.”

She takes his hand in hers, rubs her fingers along his, feels the roughness of his palms. She kisses his knuckles, “Chuck’s in custody. Benny said he’ll most likely never get out again. I’m sorry about what happened, okay? And I know that you’ll be angry at me if I tell you that I’m sorry. I want you to come back and scold at me, okay?”

A nurse stands in the doorway, “Mrs. Winchester, I’m sorry but you have to leave. You can come again in,” The nurse pauses to look at her watch, “Four hours.”

“Sure,” She says, “I just—“

It’s like the nurse knows that Y/N needs a couple more minutes because she nods at Y/N and walks out. She’s sure that the nurse will come back soon.

“You know,” She whispers, “I know why you were looking at me the whole time. It’s me you wanted to see, right?” Her voice gets shaky again, “You wanted me to be the last thing you see.”

She sniffs, brushes at her eyes and nose, “Come back, Dean, you promised. You’re going to take me out, remember? I want that. I want all of it. I never said it, because I was confused about my feelings, but I love you, Dean. I really do. I’m the happiest when I’m with you.”

When the nurse shows up the second time, Y/N gets up and looks at him again. Dean’s not here, he’s still far away. She places a kiss onto his forehead before she slips out of the room.

Y/N takes a taxi to the nearest store that’s still open to buy essentials. She needs tampons, toothbrush and toothpaste, and water. Maybe a chocolate bar. And it should be dark because it should calm her down.

The taxi driver saw the state she’s in, and decided to stay and wait for her to take her to the hotel safely.

When she steps into her hotel room, she finds a couple of gray and black shirts, POLICE DEPARTMENT written over it. And there’s a note.

Thought you might need a change of clothes. Sorry they didn’t have pants in your size. - Benny

After she takes a shower, she gets into bed but sleep is a thing that never came.

***

Y/N told the hotel to wake her up on time to be at Dean’s side as soon as she can. She didn’t really have to because she’s been awake all night, zapping through TV channels. Chuck is the breaking news on every one of them.

When she arrives at hospital, she sees Cas waiting in the reception area and runs to greet him.

He takes her into his arms, rubs a hand over her back, “I’m sorry,” Cas says and he sits down, pulling her down with him, “Is there anything you need?”

“The police need Dean’s laptop, and I’ll probably need new clothes soon,” She says with a chuckle.

“Bobby went to the cabin last night. He’ll bring it here,” Cas says and then he smiles, “And we’ll go shopping as soon as Dean wakes up.”

Cas is so optimistic, too. It blows her mind. It’s as if they don’t accept anything else than Dean waking up and coming around again.

“Yeah,” She smirks, “Have you been to see him?”

“No, only family allowed and they said that he’s having a check up. Apparently he started to breath on his own about five minutes before I arrived here. Everyone was in a rush. I don’t know what’s going on now.”

“I’ll go ask,” She says, and walks over to the desk.

After a while she sits back next to Cas and starts to cry.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Cas asks, pulls her into an embrace.

She cries but she’s smiling at him, “They said he’s awake.”

“Oh, thank god,” Cas places a hand on her shoulder, “See? Everything’s going to be okay,”

It’s another agonizing thirty minutes until the nurse who’s working the front desk walks towards them.

“Mrs. Winchester?”

Y/N looks up from a magazine she tried to read but didn’t get anything into her head anyway, “Yes?”

Cas’ eyes widen but she ignores him, ignores the grin on his face.

“You can go see him now,”

“Thanks,” She says and puts the magazine away. She takes a look at Cas.

“It’s okay, you’re his wife, you go first,” He winks, too.

She nods at Cas, and makes her way to Dean’s room. While she walks along the corridor, her heart thumps ridiculously fast in her chest.

The door stands ajar so she gets in.

Dean turns his head towards her, when he hears her. He flinches a little before his face turns bright. The crinkles start to crease around his eyes.

Y/N sits down, and bites back her tears. Fails, because one tear makes an escape and rolls down her cheek.

“Hey,” Dean chokes out. His voice is hoarse and she can tell that it hurts to speak from the way he flinches, “You okay?”

At that, she cries some more. How can he be the one that almost died and still asks her if she’s okay?

She nods. Because she is. She is, because he came back.

He brings his hand to her face, brushes at her tears, “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Y/N has to chuckle at that, “I’m a mess.”

“You’re a hot mess,” He says and has to cough because he wanted to laugh.

“You’re here,” She stands up, and leans over a little, trails her fingers over his face, and feels the prickly stubble, “I thought I lost you.”

She kisses him then, first his cheek, his nose and his forehead. Dean leans towards her kisses, he grins at her affection, clears his throat and pushes the words off his tongue, “I would never leave you like that.”

“I’m sorry,” She says as she sits back down, “I didn’t know that Meg would betray me like that.”

Dean listens, he doesn’t say anything because it hurts, she knows. It’s enough that he listens. She needs to get it off her chest.

“I’m sorry that you got shot. If it helps, I shot Chuck.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Right over his kneecap. Because I wanted him to live and rot in jail.”

He grins and then he speaks, even though it hurts him, “That’s my girl. And where did you aim?”

“His kneecap?” She shrugs.

Dean raises his eyebrows again, frowns a little, too.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Yeah, alright, I aimed at his crotch.”

He tries his best not to laugh, the vein on his forehead showing.

“What happened?” He asks after a long while and he holds her hand, squeezes it.

“Chuck promised Meg a million dollar. And she betrayed me by shooting you. Chuck shot her right in her face. He wanted to blame it on Meg. That she tried to kill me and to reach me she had to kill you too. Chuck wanted to play the hero, coming to our rescue but it would have been too late. Benny and the police showed up right after I shot Chuck. I was about to shoot again.”

“Benny looked after you?”

She nods, “He did.”

“Good. Cas?” Dean tries to keep his sentences short.

“Cas drove here with your car.”

“Oh no,”

“He’ll take back your motorcycle.”

“Oh no,”

She chuckles.

“Right, Cas’ right outside but you need to rest. We’ll go clothes shopping and we’ll be back.” She stands up and kisses his forehead.

When she’s about to turn to go, Dean pulls her back by her arm so hard he makes her stumble and fall back, landing half on top of him. He flinches but composes himself. For someone who almost died, he still has so much strength.

Dean doesn’t say anything, he just looks at her and then he kisses her bruisingly hard. When they part he looks at her again, “I saw you. I only saw you.” He says and she knows what he means. She nods with tears in her eyes, sees him smiling, “I love you, you know?”

She nods again, smiles, too, “I know. I love you too.” He kisses her again and then she gets off him. Dean’s eyes are wary, he’s visibly tired.

“Sleep, I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t flirt with Cas.”

She snorts at that, “I won’t.”

“You’ll be back when I wake up?” His lids are heavy, they’re almost closing.

“I’ll be right here. You won’t get rid of me so easily.” She smiles from the door.

“Promise?” His words are slurring.

“Cross my heart,” She says before she slips out of the room.

CH.18

@dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @flamencodiva @maddiepants @notyourtypicalrose @satans-0-spawn @foxyjwls007 @cosicas-cuquis @destielhoneybee @musicalmuffindog1410 @adoptdontshoppets @mariekoukie6661 @4fareader @deansyahtzee @onethirstyunicorn @deans-baby-momma @team-free-will-you-idjiot @sadbitch89 @becs-bunker @weepingwillowphoenix @deanwanddamons @miraclesoflove @atc74 @michellethetvaddict @traceyaudette @olichat @thevelvetseries @laphirablack @deansenwackles @winchesterxfamilybusiness @akshi8278 @jensengirl83 @squirrelnotsam @whatareyousearchingfordean @janicho88 @beautifulbowleggedangel @mylovelydame21 @gabavaldman @invisiblexnobodyximportant @vicmc624 @starryeyeseunbyul @parinarain @busy-bee-angel-misska @pansexualgrapes @addbibliophile @cookiechipdough @fandoms-fiend @coldmuffinbanditshoe @stoneyggirl @rvgrsbrns

#cross my heart #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nahtalie writes

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darlingandmreames · 4 years

Note

Babe! Contagion Inception!au with Eames as a liaison and Arthur as a field researcher—

Agsjdk okay so I meant for this to be under 1000 words but that uhhhhh didn't happen. Oops. It also got a bit angsty so sorry about that 😅 Because this is a Contagion AU, it deals with getting sick. That's obviously a topic that might make people uncomfortable given the state of the world right now. If that's the case, I highly suggest not reading this.

please feel free to send more prompts!!

*******************************************************************************************

Eames was still in Geneva when he got the call. He grinned as Arthur's name came up on his caller ID. Arthur rarely called anyone as a rule, so this was an unexpected surprise; part of him even felt a little smugly satisfied, if he were being completely honest. Something he admittedly generally avoided being when it came to Arthur. He picked up with a chuckle. "Hello, darling. This is a delightful surprise.”

“Eames?”

“The one and only, love.” He grinned a bit wider. “What, couldn't wait until I get in tomorrow to hear my voice? You better be careful, or I might start to think you don't actually hate me." He leaned back in his chair. "I was thinking, though, I still owe you dinner. If I can manage to pull you away from work for an hour or two, that is. Maybe tomorrow night? There's a little noodle place I love that…"

"Eames, I…I think I'm sick."

Eames stopped, stomach dropping. He sat forward, paying close attention; he had to have heard Arthur wrong. He couldn’t have heard him right. "What?"

"I-I woke up with a fever and I-" A harsh cough cut off Arthur's voice, and it was a moment before he was able to speak again. "I've had a cough since early this morning." He took a shaky breath and Eames could hear the edge of fear in his voice. "I contacted the hospital and they're sending a team to bring me in and put me in isolation but it might be a bit before they're here and I-I just needed…I needed to call someone."

No no no no, this isn’t happening. "I can…" Eames had already pulled up flights, scrolling through them quickly and clicking on the soonest option. "I can be there this evening." He logged off his computer and grabbed his jacket and the small packed bag he kept by his desk for emergencies, running out of his office. It'd be close, but he could make the flight if he headed out now. "Send me the hospital information and I'll meet you there."

"You don't have to come, you're coming tomorrow anyways, it's alright, I just…I just needed to hear someone’s voice, that's all, you don't have to…"

"Arthur." Eames cut him off. He tried to shove down the panic he could feel rising in his chest. Arthur was already afraid- god he could only imagine how afraid he must be- he didn't need to make it worse by letting his own fear show. "I’m coming. I'll be there this evening."

Arthur was silent on the other end of the call for a moment, and Eames could hear him sniffle quietly. When he finally spoke again his voice was quiet. "Thank you."

"You're going to be alright, darling." Cobb tried to pull him aside to talk as he ran through the lobby but Eames pushed past him frantically, shaking his head. He had to get to the airport. He had to make that flight. He had to get to Arthur. "I promise."

XXX

Eames hated hospitals. He spent his time more on the public relations end of outbreaks rather than the front lines or research end of things, but he was far too aware of exactly how many deadly diseases one could catch in a place most people associated with healing to ever be comfortable in one. Hospitals were, in his opinion, a breeding ground for antibiotic resistant infections and were best avoided as much as possible. Thankfully his job as a media liaison meant he rarely spent time in them even when on location and he preferred to keep it that way. When he was in them it was usually for press releases or meetings with administration. Not to visit someone. He tried to ignore how particularly strong the harsh antiseptic smell was as he made his way through the halls to where the isolation room was. It was a smell he'd long come to associate with sickness and death, and he didn't need his mind to go down that path right now. He couldn't let it.

Arthur was inside the room talking with one of the doctors, who was seated as far away from Arthur as the room allowed and wearing full protective gear. The sight made the coil of fear that had already settled in Eames' stomach tighten. He'd always known this was a possibility- Arthur worked in the field, gathering information to help them understand what was actually happening, if anyone on the team was going to get sick it was always most likely to be him- but actually seeing him like this was different. Even from where he was standing Eames could see how bad Arthur looked. How sick. His normally pale skin looked grey and clammy under the harsh fluorescents and the hospital gown hung on him loosely, so different from his normal fitted suits. He wasn’t a large man to begin with and the ill-fitting gown made him look even smaller. Arthur wasn't supposed to look like this. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. He was supposed to just confirm the situation they were facing, to gather information and plan their next steps. He was supposed to be fine.

The doctor left the room and Eames walked up to the window, tapping on the glass slightly. Arthur hurried over as soon as he saw Eames, expression equal parts relief and carefully controlled blankness. The look made Eames' stomach drop; he knew that blank expression. It was the one Arthur wore when he was giving bad news but didn't want to make it seem as bad as it really was, when he was worried but didn't want to show it. He reached for the phone and Eames picked up on his end. "You came."

Even over the tinny connection Eames could hear the relief in his voice. "Of course, darling. I told you I'd be here." He paused, pushing down the fear building in the back of his throat and trying to keep it from seeping into his voice. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"Yeah, you look like it." Arthur laughed slightly and Eames gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. His smile faded though as Arthur's laugh morphed into a rough cough that doubled him over. It was several seconds before it finally subsided, leaving Arthur shaky and out of breath when he finally picked the phone back up. "Are you alright?" It was a stupid question, he obviously wasn't, but Arthur nodded nonetheless. "Do they…do they know for sure?"

Arthur shook his head. "They're still waiting on the test. I-I have the symptoms though and contact with a source, and it's within the incubation period. So they're pretty sure. They should hopefully know by the morning."

Eames nodded, taking a breath to try and steady himself. "You'll be alright. You'll be okay."

"You know the odds, Eames. You know the mortality rate. 30% for H7N9, 60% for H5N1, so regardless of what strain it is I'm not…" Arthur's voice broke slightly and he looked down. "My odds aren't great."

"Arthur. Darling, look at me." Arthur looked up hesitantly after a moment, fear written plainly across his features. Eames wanted nothing more than to pull him in, hug him and tell him it would be okay, but he settled for simply putting his hand up against the glass. It was the most he could do right now. "You're going to be alright. You'll get through this. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met, so if anyone can beat this it's you, okay? You're going to be fine."

Arthur brought his hand up on the other side of the glass, resting his forehead against the window. "I'm scared, Eames." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't want to die here. I don't want to die alone."

Something in Eames' chest broke at that. In all their years working together, all the outbreaks they'd investigated and responded to, Eames had never heard Arthur say he was afraid. He moved as close to the window as he could, hating that all he could feel was cold glass. "You're not going to die. And you're sure as hell not going to be alone, alright? I'm going to be here. I'm going to be here until you recover."

"But the job, you have to work with…"

"I talked to Cobb. He's having Ariadne cover for me. It’s alright. I'm not going anywhere, love, I'm staying right here." Arthur nodded and Eames gave him a small smile. "And you have to get better because I still owe you dinner, remember?"

Arthur nodded again and closed his eyes, seeming to hang onto Eames' words. "You can…you can take me to that noodle place you mentioned."

"Yeah, we'll go there and you can pronounce all the dishes wrong like you always do." Arthur let out a quiet sound that might've been a laugh, or maybe a sob. Maybe a bit of both. Eames watched him through the glass, chest aching. He could feel words swirling in the back of his throat, things he'd thought and considered saying but had never gotten around to because he'd been too nervous. Because it was easier to maintain their status quo of banter and flirting without taking the next step. Because he'd always assumed they had time. He took a breath, praying to whoever might have been listening that he hadn't waited too long. "It can be a date, yeah? A real one. Been…been meaning to ask you on one for a while now."

Arthur let out another half laugh, half sob. "You have terrible timing."

"I really do, I'm sorry," Eames laughed quietly, resting his forehead back against the window. "I'll make it up to you though, I promise. When you've recovered."

Arthur's fingers closed into a loose fist against the glass, and Eames could almost imagine the feeling of Arthur's hand in his. "I'd like that." His voice was quiet, and Eames could hear it trembling slightly. "I'd like that a lot."

"Good. It's something to look forward to then." Eames closed his eyes. "You're going to be alright, love. It'll be okay. And I'll be with you through all of it."

“Promise?”

“I promise, darling. Whatever happens…” His breath caught slightly in his throat. It was going to be alright, he wasn't going to lose Arthur. He couldn't. Not now. Not with so many things he still needed to say. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you.”

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #dreamhusbands #inception #contagion #angst #asks #prompts #so excited to have a writing prompt!!! send me more!!!!#local trash goblin writes stuff #local trash goblin speaks

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ye0ncore · 4 years

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hidden feelings - choi yeonjun

genre: fluff

requested: nope, all me!

summary: you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you could remember. but, he had a girlfriend. what happens when yeonjun’s best friend accidentally reveals your feelings for yeonjun?

gifs are not mine <3 i’m not very proud of this, but i think it’s cute. it’s definitely not my best writing, but i hope you guys enjoy 🥺 also, my requests are still open! feel free to send something in!!

you couldn’t stop the scowl from forming on your face when she walked in. her eyes immediately found yeonjun’s, quickly making her way to him, sitting in his lap. yeonjun smiled up at the girl, wrapping his arms around her. you looked up at soobin, yeonjun’s best friend, and he called you over, knowing you wanted to be away from the situation. you made your way over to soobin, a defeated look on his face.

"y/n, you can’t keep doing this," soobin said, softly. you sat down at the table and nodded, knowing he was right. "how long has it been? 5 years? you’ve been like this ever since you... you know. started liking him." you kept quiet, not trusting your voice in that moment. "he has to know at some point." you whipped your head up towards him.

"no. he’s happy with her. what kind of person would i be if i tried to get in between that," you said, looking down at the floor now. all soobin did was scoff, making his way over to sit down next to you. he looked at you, and spoke quietly.

"he doesn’t love her. he never did. it’s pretty obvious to be honest."

you looked up at him, weirdly. "have you seen the way he looks at her? he definitely loves her. and i’m happy for him, he deserves to be happy." the words hurt rolling off your tongue, but it was true. if he was happy, then you knew it was all okay.

"y/n, i’m his best friend. i know him better than anyone else. he does not love her. when she’s around, he has to act all lovey dovey, but when she’s gone, he’s attached to your hip. when it’s just me and him, all he does is talk about you. not her, you. you’re crazy if you think he doesn’t feel the same way about you."

you shook your head. no, there was no way. you’ve seen the way he looks at her. you can’t fake a look like that. "i must be insane, then." you stood up, and walked to the door, soobin following close behind. you heard footsteps coming towards you and bam. there was yeonjun, standing in front of you, next to soobin.

"you’re leaving already," he asked with a pout. you felt your heart start to race, your hand beginning to shake. "i’m sorry jun, i have to. i’ll be back later, yeah?" you shot him a small smile, him returning it immediately. he hugged you quickly, saying his goodbyes before going back to his girl. you felt yourself deflate, as he sat back down next to her, wrapping his arm around her.

you said a quick goodbye to soobin, quickly leaving the house. you didn’t have to go anywhere, you just wanted away. you couldn’t be in that house anymore. you decided to take a walk, no specific destination, just a walk wherever your feet decided to take you. you admired the nature around you, trying not to think of the boy who had you wrapped around his finger.

you had been walking for around an hour when your phone rang. you looked at the id, and surprise, surprise, it was yeonjun. you took a deep breath before answering, bringing the phone up to your ear. "hello?"

"get back to the house now." you froze in your tracks. every possibility of what could have happened flooded your mind, making you incredibly anxious. "um o-okay. is everything alright?" there was a moment of silence before he spoke. "yes, it’s all good. just come back."

you said a soft okay before hanging up, looking down at your phone to see a message from soobin. all it said was "i’m sorry." those two words were enough to make you sprint back to the house, busting in through the door. soobin and yeonjun were on the couch. soobin had a sad look on his face while yeonjun looked... happy? the boys turned their attention to you, both standing up immediately.

"i’ll um... i’ll go outside," soobin stuttered. you looked at him as he left and then looked at yeonjun, confusion written all over your face. he looked back at you, a small smile on his face. "come on, sit with me." you nodded slowly, sitting next to him on the couch, beyond confused.

"soobin told me everything."

you’ve never felt your heart stop until that very moment. you froze, feeling everything around you start to blur. "w-what did he tell you?" he let out a soft laugh, taking your hand in his.

"i think you know what he told me..." he spoke with an unsteady voice, suddenly having a very nervous aura around him. "oh uh yeah... i’m sorry if that made anything weird." you kept your eyes on the ground, terrified to look him in the face.

"don’t apologize for having feelings. we need to talk about this though." you nodded, finally building the courage to look at him. he smiled at this, scooting a little closer to you. "you know i’m in a relationship. why didn’t you say anything before?"

you simply shrugged. "i couldn’t. it would have made it weird between us and that’s the last thing i want. i didn’t want to lose you, so i didn’t say anything. and you seem happy with this girl. who would i be to take that away from you?" he smiled at your response, confusing you even further.

"okay first of all, it wouldn’t have made anything weird. second, cute that you didn’t want to lose me. and third, soobin was right, you’re insane." you had no clue how to react at this point. what the hell was he saying?

"what?" he chuckled, and looked at you with a look of admiration. "i don’t love that girl, you know that right? not at all." you shook your head, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. "what are you talking about? i’ve seen the way you look at her."

"but have you seen the way i look at you? y/n i swear to you, i’m being serious. she’s nothing compared to you. nothing compares to you. yeah, i thought i loved her for a while, but i don’t and i know that now. you’ve been there for me through everything and never once left my side. i love 𝑦𝑜𝑢, y/n. not her. you’re the one. not her."

you sat in shock, not knowing what to say. all he did, was stand up, bringing you up with him. he looked down at you, stil smiling and pulled you into him, hugging you tightly. you quickly returned the hug, nuzzling your face in his chest. he rubbed small circles on your back, while you held onto him tightly. it was as if, if you let go of him, he would disappear.

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making a smile form on your face.

but of course, soobin had to ruin the moment. he busted into the door, spotting the two of you in the center of the living room.

"HAH Y/N I TOLD YOU IM THE BEST FRIEND ON THE PLANET, YOU OWE ME DINNER!"

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

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High Expectations - Ch15

Yup, this beast is still going and still growing. Life sapped my energy so it has been a lot longer between updates than I would have liked but I’ve been experimenting with writing out of sequence to make use of whatever creativity I can grasp. The plus side of this is that ch16 is in the editing stages and ch17 is also half written. But anyway....it’s taken a while but here is ch15 in the saga that has become affectionately termed ‘Bad Jeff’.

@willow-salix has been wonderful at helping be fix the plot holes and pick out the parts where I contradicted myself. I now have a proper timeline though (funky multicoloured spreadsheet and everything) so I shouldn’t tie myself in knots so much with the boys ages and milestones.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Fifteen

The incoming call notification had Virgil scrambling for his phone, fumbling with the handset while trying to swipe a call accept icon that suddenly seemed too small and fiddly to be practical. It took him three hasty attempts before managing to complete the action correctly, allowing him to finally speak to the brother who had been frustratingly out of contact. Scott had been in LA for three days and Virgil was now desperate for news but he had promised he wouldn’t interfere lest he call at the wrong moment and inflame matters further. It had been a nail-biting wait, forcing himself to be patient and trust Scott to call when he could.

“Scott, how is it?” It took him a moment to register that the face on the screen wasn’t Scott’s despite what the caller ID proclaimed. “Gordon?” He was surprised to see a younger brother rather than an older one.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see me.” There was an air of the old teasing Gordon making a slow return.

“Sorry. Of course I’m pleased to see you,” and he genuinely was, the face that looked back at him was still too thin and pale for comfort but the hair was clean again and the eyes had lost their haunted glaze, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Where’s Scott?”

“He’s here too.” The scene on Virgil’s screen shifted quickly as the handset at the other end was spun round to reveal its rightful owner who gave a little wave. “He said he was going to call you so I asked if I could go first.”

“Well, how are you?”

“I’m....okay.” Virgil had made him promise in the past not to lie about how he was feeling, it was one of the reasons he had been pulling away; it didn’t count as lying if you just omitted the truth. “It’s been a strange few days.”

“I’ll bet.”

“For a start I’ve found out that flyboy over there gets ever so twitchy if anyone else is at the controls of a plane. You’d best hope you never have to take him as a passenger in that bumble bee of yours if it ever gets off the drawing board. Or was it more like a turtle, that beast was green wasn’t it?” The look of fear that crossed Virgil’s face would have been comical if it wasn’t so genuine and Gordon was given the sudden reminder that, as far as Virgil was concerned, he wasn’t meant to know about their father’s vision. He was quick with his reassurances. “It’s okay, Dad told me about his rescue plans”

“He still won’t tell Alan though” Scott called out from across the room, “Dad has taken him out to fetch ice cream so we can talk freely for a few minutes.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, I think he’s just trying to cover some of his own guilt. He’s still no Dad of the year though.” Scott's tone was derisive and Virgil could tell that tensions must still be running high. “He’s going to have to tell him sooner or later, he can’t just spring it on the kid that he is being dragged out of school and shunted across the world when the island move happens.”

“What, you mean like he gave us time to prepare for the move to LA?” Gordon snorted. “I don’t know about you guys but me and Alan didn’t exactly get much warning when we left Kansas.”

This surprised the older two who had known all about the plan, the many arguments were etched in their memories. In this case the problem child had been John. Scott had been making the transition from university to the Air Force and Virgil had been busy preparing for his studies at Denver but John had been on a path that didn’t align with their father’s business plans. The fifteen year old, with a coveted place at Harvard nearly in his grasp, had begged to stay so he could finish high school without interruptions; he had worked hard to stay two grades ahead of the curve and an inter-state move could undo it all. Of course letting John live alone had been out of the question, and Jeff had not been prepared to delay the move, leading to flares of temper and defiance that none of them had realised the middle child was capable of. It was only when Grandma stepped in, offering to return from New Mexico to become custodian of the farm and care for John during that final year that their father relented. With all of the concerns over John and his university dreams it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the youngest two hadn’t been told about the move. Evidently their father’s policy of ‘need to know’ was long running.

“Don’t worry Gords, Scott and I will make sure that Alan gets told. If Dad’s idea happens, and knowing Dad it probably will, Alan won’t just have another move sprung on him. I promise.” There was sincere honesty in those deep brown eyes and Gordon gave a subtle nod of thanks. “So tell me everything that has been happening over the last few days.”

Gordon recounted everything that had happened since Scott’s arrival, prompted by said older brother if he missed anything out. Virgil winced at the revelations. Even with the sanitised highlights he could tell that the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster. In some cases the revelations were beyond his worst fears and he couldn’t help feeling proud of his little brother who had been living through harder circumstances than any of them had imagined.

“Which brings us to today,” Gordon brought the tale up to the present, “Dad’s decided I need to learn to fly seeing as this island he’s chosen isn’t exactly on the commercial air routes. Alan’s going to start learning too; Dad wasn’t happy about that idea but Scott reminded him that he started learning at Alan’s age. You should have seen him up there, Alan is an absolute natural.” Gordon’s voice glowed with pride at the achievements of his little brother.

“You didn’t do badly yourself” Scott cut in from across the room.

“So why were your knuckles white the whole time?”

“Hey, as you said, I just like being the one in control. It was no different when Dad was piloting and he’s clocked up more flight hours than the rest of us put together.”

“I can just imagine it” Virgil snorted, “you should’ve seen him supervising John when he was learning to drive.”

Gordon glanced across at Scott who had visibly paled at the memory, before turning his attention back to Virgil. “So yeah, I’ve now got to fit in pilot training and exams around getting back up to strength for WASP selection.”

“And WASP is definitely what you want? You aren’t just going along with it so you can get away from Dad? I know you’ll be able to do it, but please don’t enlist unless you’re really sure.”

Gordon wasn’t sure if that was the concerned older brother or the family pacifist speaking; WASP was still military after all and Virgil had made no secrets of his thoughts in that direction. But equally Virgil knew how stubborn he was and how he would never back down from a challenge and had managed to resolve his difference with Scott over the Air Force so he chalked the questions up to brotherly concern.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s a good life Virg, something I can really make a career out of and the opportunities for officers…”

“Officer?” This definitely surprised the distant sibling. The widened eyes elicited a slight blush from Gordon.

“Um, yeah, that was Scott’s idea.” He was still having a little trouble reconciling himself to the notion that he was cut out to lead.

“Not just my idea” said brother called out from his perch on the bed, “the Marineville lot wanted to transfer you to officer training too. This time round you’ll just be applying for the officer steam from the beginning.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Gordon shot Scott a glare of mock indignation, earning a chuckle from Virgil “it’s a good life. And yes, this time I’ll be trying out as an officer. I’ll have to redo the aptitude tests, different benchmarks and all that, but we’ve been looking into it and my scores were already at the right level. There’s just one additional aptitude test for officers that I never took before. I’ve tried an online practice test and did ok so I should be alright. I’m booked in to take it for real in a fortnight. After that it’s selection at Marineville again and then hopefully I’m in. It’ll take a few months but by the summer I should have my first posting. The officer intakes don’t happen as frequently as junior ranks so I’ve got time to train.”

“You seem to have it all mapped out and not a college course in sight.”

“Nope. Thanks, both of you. It’s...it’s been a hard few months and I couldn’t see a way out of it all.”

There was a noticeable slump in Gordon’s posture and the light went out of his eyes as the memories of his recent trials flooded back in. It broke Virgil’s heart to see how on a knife edge his brother still was and he knew he and Scott would need to keep a close eye on their younger sibling for a long while yet. At least Gordon had a goal to work towards again; they both knew his steely determination and drive to succeed. Once he had set his sights on a challenge nothing would stop him, the Olympics had proved that.

“Any time. And don’t be a stranger. If Dad starts getting on your case again or you just need to talk to someone you know where I am. I’ve been told my couch is pretty comfy too if this new schedule of training and flying lessons allows you any time off.”

“Admit it, you just want me back for my cooking” Gordon smirked.

“Maybe…” Virgil gave his best puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from both his brothers.

Any further chatter was interrupted by the sound of the apartment door crashing open, announcing the return of Jeff and Alan from the grocery store, followed by Alan’s shouts that if they didn’t get out there quick there would be no chocolate chip left for them. Both knew better than to treat this as an idle threat so with a hurried goodbye to Virgil they departed to claim their portions.

xoxoxox

Life soon settled into a new routine. Jeff still rarely made it back for dinner, they couldn’t expect miracles over night, but he was getting better at being home before Alan went to bed at least. Gordon suspected that had something to do with the ‘discussion’ Scott had with Jeff the night before he returned to his Air Force base. The voices that drifted through the firmly shut study door had shown a flare of temper from both sides and Gordon had been grateful Alan was already in bed and so not around to witness the argument. It was just as well Tracys were good at putting on a front, by the morning of Scott’s departure the tension had been firmly suppressed and Alan had been able to say goodbye to his eldest brother without any hint of bad feeling spoiling the moment.

Where life before the Olympics had been a mix of school and swimming, so life for Gordon going forwards became a mix of physical training and flight theory with time in the air thrown in at the weekends. He passed the WASP officer aptitude test easily enough but the next available selection course date wasn’t until after his birthday, leaving him with several months to focus on gaining the appropriate endorsements on his pilot’s licence to allow him to transport himself to and from his father’s intended island base.

Gordon wasn’t bad at flying but he didn’t possess the raw natural talent of his youngest sibling. He was competent and thorough with a steady hand but he couldn’t miss the looks of pride Jeff directed towards Alan as yet again the youngest of the family performed a manoeuvre as if he had been at the control yoke since birth. It didn’t stop at looks either, all too often Gordon found himself on the receiving end of an unfavourable comparison only this time it was against his younger brother as opposed to his older ones and the arena was cockpit rather than classroom performance. Evidently, for Jeff, old habits were hard to quell.

This time though Gordon wasn’t facing his troubles alone. Scott would check in with him occasionally until an overseas posting took him out of contact but Virgil was his real lifeline. Virgil made sure there was never more than a week between calls and often the gaps were smaller if he sensed Gordon slipping back and becoming more distant. The brother who had taken on the role of counselor seemed to have an uncanny intuition when it came to Gordon’s mood.

The extended time around his father however was still proving difficult and Gordon found himself eagerly boarding a flight to Denver to catch a much needed break.

As ever, Virgil was there to meet him at the airport.

“Good flight?”

“It was ok.”

“Not tempted to crash the cockpit then?”

Gordon just rolled his eyes and carried on out to the taxi ranks. To his surprise though Virgil directed the cab to take them to the smaller private airfield out of town rather than the apartment.

“Sorry Gords” he got in response to his querying look. “You know Dad said you gotta keep up your air time and this was the only runway slot I could get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the deal.” One of the conditions of a weekend with Virgil was that he got some time in the sky to make up for the lesson he was missing with his father. “Are you alright with me taking up your baby?”

“I trust you” Virgil shrugged. He wasn’t quite as in love with and overprotective of his plane as Scott was of his, but neither was he going to let on to Gordon that he had had a long and in depth discussion with their father about Gordon’s ability and competence before he had agreed to help with Gordon’s pilot education.

Gordon always thought it odd that Virgil had a plane but didn’t bother to run his own car, although the longer he spent in the air the more he could see the appeal. Scott of course had always loved flight and it was no surprise to anyone that a big proportion of his allowance went on maintaining a craft that screamed billionaire playboy. Virgil’s choice was more subtle and practical, if operating your own private plane counted as practical; perfect for hopping around the country from his central base in Denver to visit family on his own schedule. Despite also being in possession of big enough allowance to afford it John had neither car nor plane having declared that flying commercial was much more sensible for his main coast to coast journey and he wasn’t one for pleasure flying; he was much more interested in what lay outside the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of a mere plane.

At the airfield Virgil maneuvered his little hopper out of the hanger he stored her in and then passed control over to Gordon.

“Go on then, show me what you can do” Virgil prompted after giving Gordon a quick rundown of the specific take off speed and other essential details he would need to operate the plane safely. He settled back in the co-pilot's chair, exuding a calm confidence despite itching to keep his hands on the controls; Gordon might be his brother and Jeff had given assurances that all would be well but Virgil was still uncomfortably aware that he has supervising an unlicensed novice pilot.

His fears were soon dispelled once Gordon started going through the motions in textbook fashion including performing his own pre-flight checks despite having watched those same checks being performed just a few minutes earlier. A short burst down the runway and they were up in the air. It wasn’t graceful and Gordon lacked the finesse that came with experience but Virgil was pleasantly surprised at the amount of progress Gordon had made in such a short space of time.

The problem with flying though is that unless you are practicing something like aerobatics then just keeping a plane in the air is actually pretty easy, it’s the take off and landing that takes skill. They weren’t making a journey so there was no real navigation to do beyond avoiding the restricted airspace and corridors used by the commercial flights and the weather was clear so flying by instruments was unnecessary. All in all it was a thoroughly untaxing lesson, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time together.

“So how’s your project going?” Gordon asked as he banked to avoid flying directly over a village.

“It’s okay. I’m on track to be done by the summer.”

“What will you do after that? Move back to LA or stay out here?”

“Neither, hopefully.” Gordon gave his brother a questioning glance of surprise. “Got to get space rated for Dad’s project. Me and John’ll be heading out to Tracy College for that, just waiting for confirmation of a course place.”

“Space rated?” He had realised John would need to undergo astronaut training in preparation for life on a space station but most of the project specifics were still a mystery to him.

“Yeah. Someone’s got to be able to play taxi service for John and I might need to take a rotation on call monitoring; he can’t live off planet forever.”

“Sounds like plans are really coming together for it. Does this mean Scott will need to get space rated at Tracy College too?”

“Scott…” There was a heavy pause and Gordon took his eye off the sky to regard his brother. Virgil’s brow had furrowed into a frown and when he spoke again there was a heaviness that told of hidden arguments. “Scott isn’t joining, he’s sticking to the Air Force.”

This surprised Gordon. In the few conversations he had had with his father about the project, usually confined to a cockpit where Alan couldn’t overhear, Scott was talked about like Virgil was, as a committed member of the team. His role as first responder and pilot of the envisioned rocket plane had been presented in terms of undisputed fact. No wonder the topic made Virgil look stormy, he was a peacemaker and if Scott wasn’t fitting in with their father’s vision Gordon could imagine that the arguments had been many and explosive.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“So what’s going to happen there? Surely you can’t manage with just the three of you?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think there is a contingency plan but Dad seems so sure Scott’s going to change his mind and do it. They’re both as stubborn as mules though and neither wants to give up their dream. It’s a good project, the tech looks amazing and we could really save lives. I can see Scott’s point though, he’s made a life for himself away from Dad and, well, you know yourself what Dad can be like for giving orders.”

Gordon knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those orders, particularly when they were at odds with your own plans. At least Scott had the advantage of physical distance as a buffer to the disapproval and if push came to shove, if Jeff cut Scott off as punishment, the Air Force pay was enough to live on even if it meant Scott had to change his lifestyle to suit the lower budget.

Gordon made the final approach back towards the airfield, diverting the full attention of both brothers to monitoring the landing. As with the take off it wasn’t polished and it wasn’t pretty but it was safe and Virgil found himself once again admiring just how far his brother had come in such a short space of time. He wondered if, given time, Gordon would join the team. Jeff hadn’t made any mention of Gordon taking on a role in the rescue organisation, even if he was now allowed to know of its existence, but there was no denying that having an extra pilot on books could only be a good thing. Maybe one day he and Gordon would fly together, the more time he spent with his brother the more he enjoyed the company although, Virgil reflected, if they were to fly as a team he would be happier if Gordon took the co-pilot’s position.

With the plane back on the ground and safely returned to her berth in the hangers Virgil pushed all thoughts of Gordon joining the rescue business out of his mind; unless their father issued the instruction there was no point even considering the option. And anyway, Gordon was heading off to the military like Scott had so who knew if he would even want to join the project. Better to just let their father know that the required flying lesson had gone without a hitch then settle back to enjoy the weekend.

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #brothers looking out for each other #military careers

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