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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 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

Author note: Mention of drugs, sickness and blood (if you're not comfortable with it don't read it) . It mighty be heart warming fluffyyyyyy.

You're his kitten. No matter the consequences you're. Cause even in his anger sometimes (which's rare and it's on the silly go-to's) he still sticks to that pet name because he met you like that under the bus stop's shelter in a heavy rain offered you an umbrella (while you were huffing and puffing like a kitten annoyed with the weather), walked you home, had a tea with you and some chocolate chip cookies. Been bestfriends from that year and there isn't a red light to your guys wild adventures—but he's been having a rough time recently. Had a cruel heart shattering breakup from a relationship that he thought was a never ending dream (she brought him happiness in a weird way he couldn't put into words) indeed it tightened your chest but his happiness's most important to you. To overcome it he's been scribbling notebooks over notebooks with lyrics that screams he miss her and the sex for the most part of it. It breaks your heart.

He's usually the one to melt all over you, give you forehead kisses, cuddles you when your periods are the bitchiest, makes you brekkie if he stays a night, runs you a bath and sometimes brings you pomegranate berried candles (he lies that he got them as a gift, he's one hell of a liar). He takes care of you with so much gentleness and helps you with study after wiping your tears and reassuring you telling you how proud he's of you. It made you guilty sometimes 'cos if you'd be in camille's place. . .you'd never be able not to get jealous. She was cool with it. Fills you with another curiosity that maybe she treated it like a fling.

He was devastated. Knocking on your door feebly. Then the moment your small confused body was under his weary gaze, boom!! It crashed upon him like a pitch storm and he fell to his knees tucking his head in your armpit crying his heart out. At that moment you felt his pain radiating to you and twisting your own stomach with a dagger, it was insufferable. He gave out no-deep scrapes but not to freak your bones muttered that he lost her. Eventually his bottled up emotions seeped into hues infront of you by passing week and to your littlest of information you got to know that they didn't ended up well in some perspectives so their relationship turned out to be a downfall. So As, you do with your girlie best-friend when she have a breakup you did it with Harry too. It didn't included feral clubbing (you left that part to his mates) but watching sappy movies that could fill your ice-cream bucket once you eat it whole, doing homemade face masks, playing drunk uno and knocking on your neighbours door to run way at last, dragging his arse to museum and in all of this you ended up convincing him to adopt a kitty (she lives with you thou).

The roles have been reversed completely!

He's been living at your flat for five weeks now. It's fading his usual cheekiness and the itch to annoy you every second he gets. Instead, it's just eating, spending bits of hours with you, going out with his mates and coming back to crash at your couch padding in your room in the wee of night demanding a warm coddle from you and that his back hurts from the cruelty of that single spring popping from the leather, staying with him when he'd wrench his stomach out in the morning. He's sensitive. His heart's soft that's one of the reason he gets hurt real quick, you admire that about him and reminds him that it's one of his qualities you're totally in love with. You're gentle with him. Giving him space and time to recover. Going with him at his friend's birthday little get together not drinking at all knowing one would have to stay sober as he chugged red wine staining his hawain shirt and when he clumsily poked his pink tongue out lazily to reach for the cigarette in her hand you tugged him back into you before he'd burn his tongue with sparkles announcing it's time to head back home and he'd be a pain in arse (a beautiful one though because his antics makes you all mushy) when he pretended to steal sandwiches from the table hiding them under his shirt saying that "'m pregnant with twins and it's hard to carry them" while you dragged him outside making him wear his coat like a stubborn toddler. Making him cupcakes sometimes, playing with his fluff of curls while he reads the book she gave him. It hurts. But, it subsides down with his single amiable glance that tells you he needs you. He always had. He always will. You give him extra forehead kisses and pecks on cheek while leaving for UNI, because it's irresistible to give dust to his pouty sulk.

It's seven in the morning when he tumbled through your door (has a key, you even brought his clothes and toothbrush from his house—he even uses your strawberry scented shampoo and body wash) his nose tip blushed matching his cheeks, eyes pooling with haze and hair poking in every direction. You were studying for a class you've in an hour. When you saw his irirses blown out you arched your brow putting the cup down beside your thick book, to mingle his sadness he's experimenting different fun wild things (told you bout it and you even called Mitch to take care of him).

"How many am I, pet?" You asked walking towards him seeing him struggle to get out of his vans and your giggles echoed into coldness when he peers down at your crouched state with his gold fish-y eyes, "dunno. . . but ye'r seem like. .like a-a sunflower floatin' in me head." His lips molding around his each word agonisingly slow drawl and his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You need rest, bambi." You got him out of his jeans and socks knowing he despises to sleep with layers on. "I'll be back with you in some hours. Hmm? Then we'll snuggle into blankets, you me and. . .salsa the pussy cat." You have to control your laugh everytime you take the kitty's name (Harry's worst at giving names you were horrified when he once joked that he loves chelsea boots so much he could name his daughter Chelsea) He whines at that nodding his head but not loosening his grip from around your wrist while you tucked him under your baby green patch work quilt. It's like his brain and heart can't decide how to choose.

On your way back you got Jeff's call asking why Harry isn't picking his phone his own voice resembling that of Harry's and you know he'd be looking shit at the time. Harry was still snoring out like a bulb in bright day on his tummy and you shook him gently at first but when he didn't woke up you had to be a bit harsher. "Harry wake up pet. . . Jeff's been calling ye for since." But, not even a hum in response so you placed your finger under his nose checking if he's even alive. Gratefully he was just sleeping like a literal corpse (he argues that he isn't that bad of a sleeper but in fact he is. Everything around him would burn down and he wouldn't even change a side).

It was seven in the evening when you were preparing for dinner when he woke up grumpy. His nose scrunched up, lips quirked up as if he tasted something yucky and his gait jello. You eyed him quietly even when he came in kitchen to drink water.

"Jeff was callin'. . ." You quipped stirring the veggies before pouring soup into a bowl and sliding it his way on the counter, "I know bombarded me phone with calls—" He gruffed spooning a mouthful and you flinched when he tried to cool it inside his mouth with "hawahhoohaha" little sounds (he knew it was hot, he's just an impatient leech).

"Stop being a gremlin. He told me ye' aren't writing, leaving everything like a cliffhanger neither you're attending the meetings he calls you at. . . I think you're done with your mourning it's time to do what you actually love and is there for you. Your music." You frown seriously trying to put some senses into his forever high brain. He drops the spoon back and dips his brows frustratedly, pinching his eyes shut.

"Fuckin' hell. Stop being my mama!" It's not the first time you guys are arguing and you're not gonna take it to heart. You stood up towering him and jabbing your finger to his chest, "you better stop filling your system with drugs before eighteen year olds come to you thinking you're a drug dealer—" He snickers at that a total mocking one (you know he's doing nothing hard it's just shrooms in the safe environment otherwise you'd have never never allowed him) but still you had to bring him back to his line so it was necessary. "Piss off." He mutters still slurping on his soup and you left him there with a loud smack on his head, "Wanker."

You care about him. Always did. Always will. He's the love of your life. Even your love has nourishment of just water and lacks sunshine from your sun it's still there into existence, how could you see him like this? Wasting his precious time and energy. It's impossible.

All you heard before going to deep slumber was the tinsy creak of your main door after that it was silent and darkness until now your phone buzzed under your pillow resonating Niall's tired words. You were a wreck havoc fumbling for your coat and wallet, covering pathway to tube with shivering legs hallucinating that everyone's eyeing your fiddly self with judgemental stare even though there're few.

You rushed to Niall's doorsteps knocking like a maniac, "where's he? Is he okay? told ye—" You pushed him aside marching inside to look for him. "He looked fine, he's a strong guy y/n they took him to hospital." You snaps your neck raising your brows.

"What the fuck, d'ya mean hospital!?" Your heart hammering in her ribcage overthinking the worst scenarios. "Take me there. right. fuckin' now." You tell him firmly not caring even if he's high too. Niall leads you to his car heating it up in the first beat taking glances of your petite body leaning against the glass with lips sucked in, eyes watered and legs constantly on bounce so placed his hand atop your knee giving you reassuring squeeze and a genial smile.

Your pink cheeks warming up with the heat of hospital radiating your way and loud growl left your chest when your blurry vision cleared to the sight of dishelved Harry sitting on the bench outside of ER, his irirses weary, mouth stuffed with cotton and has few scratches of rashes on his elbows otherwise he's fine. With each step of yours towards him something kept breaking inside you like you're walking on the nails and it's ripping you raw. He raised his head timidly hearing footsteps and when his eyes fell over your worried state panic flashed over his features and his only gaze turned you a puddling emitting heavy sobs within you before reaching towards him. The reality of situation dawning upon you because from what Niall told you in the car that they were high trying to have some fun, drove around neighbour hood and Harry jumped out of the window and bit his tongue between his teeth resulting in heavy bleeding a deep gnash (the fuckin' dumbstick he is).

"I hate you. I hate you so fuckin' much! you bastard." You tried to shout at him but the voice that came out of your mouth was that of mice as you threw harsh blows at his chest, bottom lip jutting wet and salty tears tricking down. He wraps his hand around your wrists ushering you closer down to his chest speaking muffled, "'orry." causing you to grunt angrily into the crook of his neck.

"Sorry my ass!" When you tried to pull back he tightened his hold round your neck snuggling you warmly to him with a hum. Jeff came back with medicines and when he parted his lips to speak in his defence you ignored him wiping your tears with the heel of your palms muttering a, "I hate you guys." The drive back was silent and the walk to your flat too, you passed by him to lock yourself into your room (you wouldn't because of the fact you wouldn't be able to sleep if not sure he's okay few feets away from you). When Harry attempted to roll his tongue to make some words nothing came out but a hiss making you spin, "'s okay we'll speak in the mornin'." Saying this you headed to bed and when you were bout to turn the lamp off he was lurking at the foot of your bed with a pillow in his arms smushing his face into it and squeezing it close to his chest gesticulating you that he wants a cuddle.

"Only 'cos y're adorable." You muttered moving your bum to make space for him suppressing your cooe when he grinned showing nothing but snow cotton, fuckin' hell being this cute should be illegal! He snapped his finger to call Salsa and she instantly galloped to shrink into his side while you spooned him. You woke up to the running tap and the time you were stretching under your quilt with yawns he padded out looking healed than last night.

He got a little lisp as he spoke, "can we talk?" You nodded knuckling at your sticky eyes criss-crossing your legs. "'Forgive me kitten." He continues, "sorry fo' mistreatin' ye' last night." You shake your head not realizing tears are dropping down your collarbones.

"Please. . .I don't wanna be a party-pooper in your life. you can live your life to finest but not at the sake of your life Harry– and. . . and if you're trying to invade the feelin' of sadness with all of this I don't approve it. What bout me? dunno what'll do if somethin' will happen to you, pet. S'not fair to me. is it? Just. . . love y—" your confessions cameflouging with sobs.

"Oh baby. ." He immediately cradled you in his embrace trying to soothe you with 'sorrys' and 'I'll never do somethin' like that again, promise'. Smooching slobery kisses all over your face and when you gazed up at him attracting him closer to your clean warm features all he did was peck the corner of your lips tenderly pulling away to pat your hair with a sigh.

"So. . .ye' love me." He teased you and you rolled your eyes grabbing his chin with your fingers, "show me your tongue." biting down your laugh when he retorted misheviously, "hmm. Wanna kiss it better?" Blowing him off with a remark that he's an utter pervert hiding the fact it splashed crimson to your neck.

"Mind makin' me poor self some brekkie?" He pouts and you giggled pecking the corner of his burgundy lips getting a timid smile in return, "in trade of?" He hip-checked you straddling Salsa over his shoulder and grabbing her little paws to expertise her in some dancey-dance moves.

"Mind bloggin' orgasm–ique dinner." He cackled loudly at the end when you shook your head in fake disappointment at him and he clinged by your side helping you to make some breakfast.

Think so you guys will figure it out.

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stylesberries · 4 years

Text

Egocentric

Summary: Memories of a fight with Harry overflow you, as you wander around the house and end up playing Fine Line on vinyl.

Genre(s): angst

Word Count: 2.0k

Warning(s): mentions of overthinking, if those are a warning (I overthink for a living, so I would appreciate if there was a warning).

It’s been six months since Fine Line was released. Harry was taking a nap upstairs, as I roamed around the house looking for things to do. Coming up to our vinyl record player, I knew I had to play some music to get myself in the mood to do something.

I moved the stylus over to the platter and let it down. As Fine Line started playing, I understood that I probably won’t be motivated to do anything.

Harry and I started dating when his album was almost done and he was going off to promote it.

I waited until the album was released to listen to it and made sure to avoid being spoiled with any snippets that I could’ve heard in my daily visit to the studio.

I knew that Harry’s previous relationship left him devastated and heartbroken. I could feel him being cautious and protective over himself with me, and I never judged him for it. I would keep proving my love to him as often as he needed me to.

Whenever I was in the studio with Harry, Mitch would always tell me stories about him while he played the guitar. Collecting all of those stories in my head and building an image of Harry out of them, I understood that he’s more caring, gentle and loving than he lets himself show me.

Although, I never showed him how insecure I’ve become because of his cautiousness, I would be constantly doubting myself and his feelings for me.

When I first got to hear the album, I thanked the Universe for asking Harry to leave me alone to listen to the full album.

I originally intended to let the music flow through me but after having heard eleven songs of the album, some of which caused me a certain amount of anxiety, I just wanted to shield myself from the melodies and harmonies flying in the room around me.

As the first few seconds of the song echoed through the room, I found myself being dragged into a different atmosphere. The one my mental state wouldn’t let me go in without crying.

All of the insecurities and doubts, that I have been overflown with, came over me and dragged me down with them.

I felt unworthy of Harry’s love because he turned out to be such a loving person. Just not to me, and that’s what hurt the most. Despite me giving him my all, every drop of love I had, I gave it all to him, he still couldn’t love me as much as her. Harry wrote such beautiful songs about the person that broke his heart, while he could never tell me that he loved me first.

Sitting on my bed, I tried to push the negative thoughts away. However, no matter how many times I push them away, they keep coming back.

Harry doesn’t love me like her.

I kept rocking myself from side to side trying to keep it together. But what for?

Harry doesn’t want me like her.

The album was filled to the brim with adoration and sorrow. He seems to had really adored her.

Harry has never adored me.

What adoration? He probably doesn’t even love me. How would I know when he keeps pushing me away all the time?

If I was good enough, he would’ve opened up to me already.

The song progressed, and I got so lost in the emotions I was feeling, that I didn’t notice it coming to an end.

I sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Staring down at my hands, I didn’t notice as time went by. The only thing that kept me aware of my surroundings and let me keep in touch with reality was the ticking that came from the clock Harry hung up on the wall.

I didn’t notice as the curly-haired man peeked through the slit in the door. As he opened the door, my gaze rose from my lap to his worried face.

When I realized that he must have seen the tears running down my cheeks, I hurried to try to inconspicuously wipe them away.

“I didn’t hear any music playing, so I thought y’were done.” He kept looking at me, probably trying to figure out what I thought of his creation.

“It’s that bad?” He asked jokingly referring to my puffy eyes.

I looked down and felt new tears getting my eyelashes wet. I couldn’t look at Harry now. When I looked at him, the only thing I saw was her face.

“Are y’crying because y’think that my career has come to an end?” Harry made another joke, looking down at me nervously.

“Will you ever love me like her?” I asked him slightly looking up. I have surprised myself with the bluntness of the question.

As my gaze connected with his, I saw the shock written all over his face.

“What?” He asked, having heard the question clearly.

“I asked if you would ever love me like her.” I repeated, knowing that there’s no turning back.

His shoulders sunk, as he understood that his mind wasn’t playing games with his feelings and what he heard was actually the question that left my mouth.

“Why would y’ask that, Y/N? Don’t y’know yourself?” He knitted his brows at me trying to get me to explain the reason behind my question.

“No. I don’t know it myself. You’ve never shown it for me to know.”

All of the frustration that had been accumulating in me was ready to blow up any second and I knew if I let it all out, he would beat himself up for it later. It would be the last thing I wanted.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. I do show it. You’re just too egocentric to see it.” Harry has now opened an attack. However, realizing the nature of his words right after they left his mouth, Harry’s facial expression drops and he looks like he has already regretted saying that to me.

Never before did I think that words could hurt this much. To a point when it physically hurts. Knowing that the person you love thinks of you so lowly hurts the most.

I wasn’t going to keep silent. If he’s being honest, I’m being honest, too.

“This whole relationship, all I’ve been doing was making sure that you’re comfortable with me. Comfortable enough to open up to me. It was all I ever wanted from you. Trust. Because I gave you everything I had in me, Harry. Every last drop of love - I gave to you. And what did you do with it? You can’t even tell me that you love me first. I don’t deserve that, Harry. I understand that you’re hurt and that you’re recovering from a heartbreak but I didn’t deserve to be your rebound. I am actually in love with you. If you weren’t ready for a serious relationship yet, you should’ve just told me.”

At this point tears were running down your chin and landing on the skin of your wrists. My mind was blurry and my surroundings became a mystery to me once again. Collecting myself I slowly moved to the edge of the bed and pushed my legs off of the bed on the carpeted flood. I hears muffled steps being followed by sniffing sounds. When I realized that I wasn’t the one making those sounds, I looked up to meet Harry’s wet eyes.

“Of course I love you. And no you are not a rebound and could never be. You’re perfect in every way. I have never met anyone quite like you. Ever.” He slowly kneeled down in front of me and reached for my hands.

“May I touch you?” Harry looked up at me with pleading eyes and waited for my response.

“Yes.” I answered, awaiting for him to continue his speech.

“Thank you.” He slowly took my hands in his and caressed my skin with his thumb.

“I know I haven’t been opening up to you as I should have but I promise you - if you let me, I will make sure that you never have to doubt my love again. There is nothing I value more than your love.” He paused to wipe his tears away and carried on.

“After the broke up I was a mess, but I never saw our relationship as a rebound. Before you I’d never thought that I would love anyone like her again.” Harry was crawled closer to me and looked up at me with his bloodshot eyes.

I didn’t know what he was about to say and it scared me. Not just the unknown but also the idea of it being said just to calm me down. I would never want him to say these beautiful things without them being completely raw.

Harry seemed to notice my doubtful look. In seconds he understood that the insecurities are so deep inside of my head that the words he is about to say will probably leave me even more worried than before.

He takes his hands out of mine and brings them up to my face to cup my cheeks. My eyes found their way back to my lap even with my face in his hands.

“Look at me.” He ordered, looking at me worryingly once again.

I looked up at the man, as my eyes begged for him to say something to help my pain and insecurities go away.

“When I met you I understood that I have never been in love before. I felt so much for you - it scared me. I was afraid that you’d leave me like everyone before you did. I thought that if I keep myself closed off, it would hurt less when you left. I am so sorry, my love. I have never felt anything close to what I feel for you for anyone else. I never meant for it to cause you to have doubts. I was just afraid to get hurt again.” Harry’s gaze left me and landed on a random spot in the room as the guilt came over him.

“So I hurt you instead.”

I saw him start to drown in realization of how much his actions hurt me - the person he cared for the most. I let my hand touch the hair at the back of his head. As I let my fingers go through his curls, his eyes closed and tears left the comfort of his emerald eyes.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll be alright, yeah?” I pushed his face into my shoulder and wrapped my arms around him, swaying us from side to side.

“I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I love you so much.”

His muffled cries echoed through the room as I kissed the top of his head.

“I love you so much, Harry.”

Looking back, I can never stop tears from spilling out of my eyes.

As I stood in front of the record player, unaware of Harry’s present, I stared into the void with a small smile on my face.

As Harry took steps towards me, the song came to an end.

“Are y’okay?” My boyfriend asked, carefully wrapping his arms around my waist, and positioned his head in the crook of my neck.

“I’m wonderful.”

I genuinely felt that way. After six months our relationship was in an amazing place.

“I hope that’s not sarcasm.” Harry said laying a kiss on my neck.

“Not with you.”

I turned my head slightly to reach his lips with mine. As he ended the kiss, he looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry for calling you egocentric.”

“It’s okay, bunny. You made up for that a long time ago.”

He kept his promise.

I never doubted his love again.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #Harry Styles #fine line

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buckley-diassz · 3 years

Text

b r o k e n h o m e

So, I have had an obsession with this goddamn song and these boys and I finally wrote a fic rec. It’s a l i t t l e angsty and I apologise but they have a cuddle pile so that makes it a littleee better.

t.w. mentions of abuse / mentions of homophobia / mentions of anger (if i forgot any please don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll add it)

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated (: - Eli x

Link to AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30240900

b r o k e n h o m e

When the boys first heard Broken Home, the emotions were fleeting not really hearing what the lyrics were saying, too distracted with catching up on twenty-five years of music and exploring different genres and vibes.

So the second time they heard it, they heard it. Alex, Luke and Reggie were sat in the studio, flicking between albums when the opening notes rung out.

They would yell, they would scream, they were fighting it out. They would hope they would pray, they were waiting it out.

It struck a nerve with Reggie, remembering all the nights he’d be curled up on his windowsill in his room, head between his knees willing, praying, hoping it would stop. The three of them were miserable and his parents were dancing around the word divorce. It was like they got a kick out of fighting, throwing the nearest object at each other, the wall, the floor and hell even Reggie if he got in the way. It was exhausting.

Holding onto a dream whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.

Reggie scoffed to himself, it’s ironic really. What was his dream? The band succeeding was his dream but also his parents finally acknowledging that they need out? Him finally getting his out, packing his bag and running and feeling at peace? Reggie just wanted a safe haven of his own, the boys made him feel safe of course they did, they were his family in every way but blood (despite Luke’s insistence on becoming blood brothers). His own bedroom just made him feel trapped, suffocated and alone. He found no comfort in a place that should have been strictly his own.

Sharp words like knives, they were cutting them down. Shattered glass like the past it’s a memory now.

Alex. Alex was taken right back to the moment he blurted out he was gay. That night he had had enough. School was ramming up the pressure with exams nearing, the band was practicing relentlessly and then his parents were on his back about brining home a nice girl and he, quite simply, snapped. The silence that followed was deafening. His mother’s fork clattered against the porcelain plate and she looked at him like he was a stranger. Alex’s dad, well, he’d never seen his father look so angry. The grip on his glass of whisky tight, the whites of his knuckles a stark contrast against his flushed skin. His eyes no longer had a warmth to them, they were stone cold and unfamiliar. The moment broke when his father smashed his glass against the freshly polished table and stood abruptly from his chair sneering at Alex. Now Alex wasn’t delusional, he knew that him coming out wasn’t going to be a fairy tale moment but he would’ve never expected it to be like this. His father cursing him, calling him every slur he knew whilst clutching onto the gold cross hanging from his neck. His mother not moving a muscle but her face was a picture of a thousand words. Her red lined lips agape, blue eyes glistening with tears, and an incredulous expression etched on her features. His father’s fist slammed on the table “Look at me when I’m talking to you Alexander,” a gulp, “there will be no more talk of what happened here tonight, you will finish your dinner, you will help your mother clean up and we will be going to church first thing in the morning.” It’s safe to say, Alex did finish his dinner, he did help his mother but he did not stick around to go to church the next morning.

Holding onto a dream. Whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.

Whilst the chorus rung out, the boys wordlessly gravitated towards one another seeking comfort, touch, familiarity. It’s quite something. They didn’t have it good but listening to this song, right here, in this moment solidified that they were never alone. Never.

Wrote it down on the walls, they were screaming it out.

From the moment Luke could hold a pen he was scribbling on walls – the lounge, the kitchen, the bathroom. Emily wasn’t amused but he was just a child and who could resist those big doe eyes, even then. But as he got older, there’d be notes pinned to the fridge or his bedroom door. There’d be pieces of screwed up paper littered around the house with chord progressions or lyrics. And his bedroom wall was covered in records, lyrics and posters of his favourite artists. Music was streaming through his veins. So this line really hit Luke. His parents regretted buying him that guitar because there was a constant reminder that they could have prevented this. They could have stopped this nonsense. The sheets of paper everywhere with words scribbled on them, the late night strumming when Luke should have definitely been asleep and, ultimately, Luke running away and never coming back. Music was Luke’s reason to live (and the boys), every fibre of his being screamed it he put every ounce of himself into each lyric he wrote, song he sung and chord he played. But Mitch and Emily. They didn’t understand.

Made it clear, they’re still here, are you listening now? Just a ghost in the halls. Feeling empty, they’re vacant now.

Luke felt light he’d just been sucker punched straight in the stomach. Unsaid Emily. When Julie took that to his parents, for the first time, he was heard. He was valid and it was clear. It was laughable really, stood with Julie, pouring every emotion into that song but they couldn’t hear him. Just a ghost in the halls.

All the battles, all the wars, all the times that you’ve fought. They’re the scar, they’re the bruises, they’re the pain that you brought.

Those lyrics echoed in Reggie’s mind. He remembers what his grandma told him before she passed about how his parents were never in a good place and believed that by having Reggie, it would help. So that no, it wasn’t Reggie’s fault that his parents were the way they were. Reggie could count on both hands how many nights through high school his parents either didn’t fight or didn’t know if they fought because he wasn’t home. They’re the scar – Reggie is a constant reminder that having him wasn’t going to fix anything, it wasn’t going to make any anger or resentment fade away. They’re the bruises – temporary but painful to touch and look at. Another synonym for Reggie’s relationship with his parents as he got older. They’re the pain that you brought – the pain of their marriage falling apart at the seams day by day and hoping a child would somehow fix that. Except now Reggie is all of that pain.

There was life, there was love. Like a light and it’s fading out.

When Reggie was younger he was loved differently. His every need was doted on and when his parents fought, he wasn’t around for it, his grandma would swoop in and take him or ice cream or to make sandcastles on the beach. But as he got older, he became more independent. When things got tense, he’d take himself out for ice cream and a walk along the beach. He’d lock himself in his bedroom with his journal and a box full of memories of his time with his grandma. As Reggie got older, the love faded. It was there, but the love wasn’t the same.

Hey mom, hey dad. When did this end? Where did you lose your happiness?

Reggie’s parents were never happy, not truly. Their happiness was lost way before Reggie came along.

Luke’s parents, on the contrary, were happy. They didn’t lose their happiness with one another but, instead, they lost it with Luke and his ‘unambitious and silly little dreams’.

Alex’s parents, they were a little more complex. Were they happy? Perhaps. Where did they lose their happiness, the night Alex came out as gay.

I’m here alone inside of this broken home.

And they were. None of them had siblings that they knew about. When they parted ways after school or band rehearsal they’d be on their own, inside of their broken homes.

Who’s right, who’s wrong. Who really cares? The fault, the blame, the pain’s still there.

In Luke’s mind it was so messed up. He thought about his family and how’d they wanted better for him, better than ‘some rockstar Luke, you know what it’s like the drugs, the drink, who knows what you could get messed up in’. He thought of Reggie’s parents, who fought about anything and everything just because. And he thought of Alex, Alex who never really had a relationship with his parents after that night.

I’m here alone inside of this broken home.

The boys clutched to each other tighter. Tears were falling, sniffles could be heard, and shoulders were shaking. They knew in an instant that any one of them could reach for the remote and just turn it off and stop this entire thing. But none of them wanted to. It was strangely cathartic and almost necessary. All of these emotions were raw and to them it hadn’t been twenty-five years since they went off to Hollywood to chase their dreams, it was mere weeks. They’d never actually spoken properly about these things. There was the fleeting comment or remark but nothing substantial. Nothing like this. Not for a long time.

You’ve gotta let it go, you’re losing all your hope. Nothing left to hold, locked out in the cold. You painted memories then washed out all the scenes. I’m stuck in between a nightmare and lost dreams.

And that was it wasn’t it. They’d been holding onto these toxic and damaging thoughts for years. Alex had to leave behind the fact that he couldn’t hide himself anymore that even though his own parents didn’t accept him, his brothers did. Luke had to just accept his family were never going to realise that this wasn’t just some silly little dream, this was his choice and he thanked Julie every day that she was able to give his parents a piece of that. And Reggie, Reggie had to let go that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t a burden but he was loved and cherished more than he’ll ever know or understand. A nightmare and lost dreams. Maybe at one point their lives felt like a nightmare they could never wake up from and that maybe they were never going to get their ‘big break’. But it was temporary, just like the scars, bruises and pain – it’d fade eventually, and they got their time.

Alex, Luke and Reggie sung the last chorus the best they could with their hoarse and scratchy voices – they poured every emotion they felt into that final chorus. The three of them huddled together on the armchair together. It took a long time for them to realise that home wasn’t a physical place but a feeling. And although their ‘physical home’ was broken. When they were together, that was home and it was far from broken, it was their constant. They could do anything because they were Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fic #jatp fic #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex jatp #luke jatp #reggie jatp #julie molina #its sad #im sorry

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hockeytrashgoblin · 4 years

Text

Ice Cold ~Part 3

A/N: Hi all! An update tonight and expect one tomorrow too! I’ve been writing like crazy and I really hope you guys are enjoying so far and will in the future too! It gets a little angsty in a few parts. I’m sorry for making Auston a bad guy again. It’s just a character though, I really do like him quite a bit. He’s just the easiest one to make mean. I think it’s how serious he always seems to be. I dunno. I promise to write a cute one of Auston after this is all done and that Max Domi one will also be finished soon I hope! I lost all inspo on that one but I’m getting back into it! Anywho I hope you enjoy this part!

"Hey (y/n)! Wait up!"

"Oh for fuck sake.." I mumbled to myself before turning around. "Hi Peter."

"How have you been? I haven't talked to you in a couple weeks."

"Yeah good, I've been good. Super busy, what with unpacking and getting settled into a new area and all. Work stuff."

"That does sound busy."

"It is."

"Too busy to answer a text?"

"Peter cut it out."

"Alright, alright sorry." He said putting his hands up in surrender. He still had a smirk on his face and it creeped me out. Not the smirk I wanted. I kept walking towards the entrance of the building and he just kept following.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked with an edge in my voice.

"So Nylander huh?"

"What about him?"

"Kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?"

"I guess. What does it matter?"

"I keep having to write articles about you two."

"Okay..sorry?" I had seen the articles. They were disgusting, objectifying me at every turn and insulting William. There had been 3 in the last two weeks following times we had gone on dates.

"Don't be sorry I just want to know are you guys a thing? Are you dating? Fucking? What's the story?"

"What's the story? That's all I am to you right now is your inside scoop of a fucking juicy rumor filled story?"

"What no! That didn't come out right!"

"You know what? You can just go fuck yourself Peter." I opened the door to leave but he grabbed my arm.

"(Y/n) wait-"

"Don't talk to me right now and absolutely do not touch me. Ever." I said ripping my arm from his grip and storming away through the snow to union station. The whole subway ride I just stewed in my anger. Who did Peter think he was? Asking me who I'm fucking or if I'm fucking to write in an article for the world to read. As if it was anyone's business in the first place. It was dark by the time I got off and started my 15 minute walk home. I felt really uneasy though so I took out my phone to make a call.

"Hi sweetheart, on your way home?" William answered on the first ring. I felt more comfortable immediately.

"Hi, yeah I just got off the subway. I felt really uncomfortable though for some reason so I called you to talk while I walk. I hope that's okay?"

"Of course that's okay! I like that I make you comfortable enough that you'd call me."

"You make me feel very comfortable. What's the sound?"

"Come on- wanna say hi!- just let me-"

"It's just, ow fuck, Kasperi."

"Oh tell him hi for me."

"Hi (y/n)! Come visit me!"

"Kas shut up!" I heard a loud thud and then it was quiet. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I like him, he's funny."

"He's a fan of you too. He likes that you make me happy."

"You're so sweet. I'm glad I make you happy because you make me happy too."

"That makes me so pleased. Your happiness is most important to me."

"Well you make me happy so just keep doing what you're doing." I said opening my door and locking it behind me.

"You're home now?"

"Yes."

"Did you lock the door?"

"Yes I always do. I don't feel safe without it."

"Good."

"What do you mean good?" It was quiet except for rustling. "William?"

"Sorry love I'm just worried about you. You had a bad feeling and I just want you to feel okay. Feel safe."

"You make me feel safe. That's why I'm talking to you. I'll probably be fine, I just need to calm down." I said as there was a crash outside my place.

"What was that?"

"You heard that too?"

"Yes what was it?"

"I don't know..something outside. I don't wanna check."

"Good don't. Stay locked in your house. I don't trust this at all."

"William I just heard it again.."

"Would you be okay with me coming over?"

"Yes."

"I'd feel better if you weren't alone."

"Me too."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"How?"

"I'm already on my way actually. I'll explain when I get there."

"William there's something at my window." I said, panic rising in my voice.

"I'm coming sweetheart. This is me I'm knocking on the door right now let me in."

"Okay." I looked through the peephole and opened the door for him, quickly locking it behind him. "Hi."

"Hi cutie. Nice pajamas." He said smirking at me.

"Shut up I was getting ready for bed."

"No they're cute, I quite like them."

"Thank you." I said falling into his arms for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I wouldn't just leave you alone like that."

"I was scared.."

"I know (y/n), its okay. I'm here now, nothing will harm you. If anything I will harm someone else."

"So why were you already on your way?"

"You didn't forget about that huh?"

"Nope." I said laughing with him.

"Morgan told me I should. That it would be a smart idea."

"Why?"

"He's..special." William said slowly.

"Don't suppose you'll elaborate on that?"

"He's what I guess you'd call a psychic almost? Maybe like a fortune teller?"

"So he can see the future is what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"That is pretty special. Is he any good?"

"The best, honestly. I've never met someone who is right about so many future predictions."

"How does it work?"

"I don't really think it's my place to tell you everything about it."

"Just one more question?"

"Depends. Go ahead."

"Is it just broad? Like the whole world."

"He gets stuff like that and also he can focus on a smaller scale and get stuff for a single person."

"Did he see something bad for me?"

"Not necessarily. He saw something bad but knew that I was going to come over and fix it."

"I'm glad you came to fix it." I said hugging him again. "Sorry I'm being so touchy..I'm just relieved and I kinda always do that."

"Don't be sorry my sweet girl." He said holding the sides of my face giving me a kiss on the forehead. "You're tired. Do you want to lay down?"

"Will you come too?"

"That might not be the best idea."

"Please? I won't try anything, I swear. I just want you close by.."

"Hey that's okay. I didn't think you would make advances and even if you did they wouldn't altogether be unwanted. I just didn't want you to feel any pressure. I'll be as close as you want me."

"Come on then." I pulled him by his hand towards my room. I flipped the comforter up and gestured for him to join me in my bed. He laughed and got it with me. I cuddled up into his side. "Is this okay?"

"This is so nice. I love this."

"Okay good."

"How was work today?"

"It was pretty good until the end."

"What happened?"

"Peter stopped me after work."

"I don't like him." William mumbled playing with my hair.

"Uh yeah fucking me neither."

"What did he want?"

"He's been writing articles about us and wanted me to give him the exclusive details so he could publish them first."

"That's gross. I don't like his articles. I don't like the way he talks about you."

"Me neither. It doesn't feel good."

"What we do has nothing to do with him. Our relationship is ours alone."

"Is that what this is? A relationship?"

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"It's okay if that's not what you want.." I said quietly.

"No silly girl, that is exactly what I want. I want to be with you. I just wanted to bring it up differently."

"Be with me like a boyfriend kind of thing?"

"I wish you wouldn't be so insecure (y/n). You have no reason to be like that with me. Yes I want to be your boyfriend. I would be so lucky."

"So are we officially together then?"

"Yes, lovely."

"Okay good." I said smiling, giving him a small kiss that he returned eagerly. When we broke apart I was out of breath. "Wow."

"Yeah.." he said giggling, making me laugh too. "Of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you."

"Aww William! That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I'm going to say nice things to you forever." He smiled and gave me another smaller kiss.

"Oh yeah about the relationship only being our business, Amy knows most of the business. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. The boys are very aware of everything too. Probably more so."

"You guys are pretty close huh?"

"They're my brothers. Auston, Morgan, Kas, and Mitch. We have a bond like no one else's I promise you that. I love those guys."

"I'm glad that you've got such great friends. It's sweet how you talk about them."

"They're great people. I know you think Auston is awful but he really isn't."

"I don't think he's awful William. I think he hates me. It's different."

"It's silly. I'll admit he's not too fond of this situation but it has nothing to do with you. He wouldn't like me to be with anyone."

"He'd rather you be alone?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't seem very nice."

"Auston thinks I'm too trusting. He doesn't trust anyone. Mitch is with someone and it's a complicated situation. Morgan has someone and it's slightly less complicated. Me, Kappy, and Auston are usually alone. It's easier that way."

"How come?"

"There's just a lot of secrets that's all. Things we can't share that make it hard to be with us."

"Well I don't like secrets much."

"I don't think I'll be keeping many from you, if any. Morgan said-" he stopped himself and shook his head. "Sorry. I know it sounds weird to go off what Morgan says."

"Not at all. I'm never gonna judge anyone on what they think or believe. If Morgan is right all the time it makes sense that you'd put that kind of faith in him."

"You're so incredible." He murmured with his warm eyes looking at me. He leaned in and kissed me. I broke it to yawn though and he laughed. "Let's sleep, yeah?"

"I don't wanna though."

"Why not? You're tired."

"I want to spend more time with you. Talking to you. I don't want to sleep."

"We have all the time in the world (y/n). Just go to bed so you're not tired tomorrow."

"Will you be here when I wake up?" I asked softly.

"You think I'd just leave in the middle of the night?"

"I hope not but I don't know."

"I won't leave unless you specifically ask me to."

"Well I'm not going to ask that."

"Then I will be right here when you wake up. Get up and I'll turn off the lights." I groaned making him laugh as he got up. He turned the light off and crawled back into bed behind me, spooning me, pulling my back close to his chest.

"Goodnight William."

"Goodnight lovely." He kissed my neck and settled to go to bed. I fell asleep so fast.

#nhl imagine #nhl story #maple leafs #hockey imagines #william nylander #william nylander x reader #mitch marner #kasperi kapanen #auston matthews #morgan rielly #toronto maple leafs #hockey story #hockey imagine #halloween #vampire

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Like We Used To: 20

A/N: Thanks for the love in the last chapter! I didn’t realize how many of you were still reading! It was nice to hear from you!

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER TWENTY:

The sun had been brightly shining on her face for hours now, but she managed to avoid it, too tired to wake yet. It was a little after noon. They had to leave in a few hours to go back home. Elizabeth couldn’t be too sure when the last person had gone home after the party, because she had slipped away at 3 AM to go to bed in a guest room. It felt weird going to Harry’s room to sleep, and if she was being honest, she was still a little bothered about his ex-girlfriend being there. She didn’t want to argue with him, after all, he did spend the rest of the night practically showing Elizabeth off to all of his friends, but she did see him saying goodbye to Camille before she left and couldn’t help but doubt herself when she saw his arms tighten around her and thought she saw a bit of sadness watching her leave. He said he was over her, but was he? Or was she just overreacting? Either way, she felt like she needed distance after that to avoid saying things she didn’t mean, so she just went to a guest room to sleep.

She heard the door creak open, the patter of footsteps, a couple clinks on the bedside table, and the bed depress behind her, arms snaking their way around her waist, pulling her in tight. The familiar subtly spicy scent lingered in the air as a smile flicked onto Elizabeth’s face. She couldn’t stay mad at Harry for long, not when his touch was so gentle and sweet. She let herself sink into him for a moment before turning to face him, fluttering her eyes open to be met inches from his emerald green ones, noticing speckles of yellow in them. His eyes twinkled at her.

“What are you doing in here?” Harry whispered, kissing her nose.

Suddenly she felt silly for being insecure. She yawned, “I don’t know. Must have had too much to drink. When did you go to bed?”

“The last person left at 4,” he said, sitting up and reaching over to the side table. “I made you some food.”

He held a plate with eggs, sausage, and fruit, and a cup of coffee in front of her, knowing she’d want breakfast even though it was lunch time. She smiled and sat up, grabbing it. It was weird how quickly the two of them became so deeply invested in each other. Surely them knowing each other since childhood played a part in it, but they had been separated for so long, that couldn’t be the only reason for it. They’ve always had a pull towards each other, some kind of force wanting them to be together. Maybe it was destiny? Elizabeth wasn’t too sure if she believed in that kind of stuff, but there was no other way to explain it. At least, none that she could think of. Maybe she was just really horny. Maybe Harry was just really lonely. Who knows?

After they ate, she took a shower and decided not to wear makeup today as she had to fly for over ten hours and she just wanted to be as comfortable as she could. Somehow, Elizabeth managed to not pack enough shirts. Usually she was over-prepared when it came to packing, but because this was a last minute decision to come here, she must have miscalculated the amount of time she'd be there. She shuffled through Harry’s dresser, grabbing a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face on it, slipping it on before heading downstairs with her luggage.

Harry smiled when he saw her, putting his weight on one foot and crossing his arms, “Is that shirt mine?”

She looked down at herself, grinning back up at him, “Sorry. I didn’t have any more tops. I’ll give it back later.”

He shook his head, pulling her closer to him, “Don’t. It looks better on you.”

A driver came to take them to the airport and it took nearly an hour for bags to be loaded, everyone to get situated, and in the air. Everyone was pretty rowdy as it was nearly 5 PM, but it was a ten and a half hour flight, so it eventually died down. They’d be arriving in London a little before noon on Saturday because of the time difference. Half of the people on the plane had fallen asleep and the other half were either scrolling through their phones or chatting. Harry had an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder as she rested her head on his chest, talking with Mitch, Sarah, and Jeffrey about plans for the next couple weeks.

“I have the studio booked for you all day Sunday, and then on Monday you have your first meeting with your Gucci stylist for an outfit to wear to the LA fashion show in two weeks,” Jeffrey said.

Harry nodded, “What time are we getting to the studio on Sunday? I really wanna knock out at least two songs. Completed.”

“Maybe we can get there around 9?” Mitch suggested, looking around at everyone who nodded in agreement. “I think we can definitely knock out at least two songs, if not three. They’re practically finished, we just need backing vocals and a couple different chord changes.”

“Have you heard any of the songs yet, Lizzy?” Sarah asked.

Elizabeth shook her head, relaxed as Harry stroked her hair, “Only Cringe. He hasn’t let me listen to anything else. He keeps changing the subject.”

Everyone looked at Harry, slightly amused. Mitch said, “Not even one? You should let her come and listen. What, were you gonna wait for her to hear them once they were released?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Harry shrugged, looking down at her, “You said you were going to be in London with Kate, Lewis, and Matt this weekend, right?” she nodded and he continued, “Maybe we can all grab some lunch together and then head back to the studio?”

Elizabeth nodded, “Yeah, we have no official plans so I’m sure they’d be down for that.”

“Perfect,” Harry looked up at his band mates, “We can play them that one song…”

Elizabeth furrowed her eyes in confusion, but the subject had changed and she decided to let it go, eventually falling asleep. Hours had passed when she felt herself being shaken away. This time, by Jeffrey. She sat up, seeing the plane descending as he woke everyone else up. There were groans echoing in the plane, gathering up last minute items.

Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched, falling into Elizabeth and resting his head by her stomach while wrapping his arms around her waist. She laughed, fluffing his hair.

“Am I taking you home?” He yawned.

“No, Matt’s picking me up, remember? I just have to grab a few things from my place before we head over to Kate’s.”

He sat up and frowned, “I forgot. I don’t want you to leave yet.”

Elizabeth chuckled, “We’ve been together for 2 weeks straight. Are you not bored of me yet?”

“Not even a little.”

The plane had landed and everyone piled out. Everyone’s cars were pulled up and parked, waiting for them, and Elizabeth could see Matt stepping out of his car wearing a chauffeur suite with a huge grin on his face. She excitedly weaved through everyone, jumping into his arms and laughing.

“You big idiot!” She squeezed him.

“What, and come pick you up from a private jet in peasant clothes? What do you take me for?” He joked, turning his attention to Harry who was walking up to them. They clasped hands and smacked each other on the bag in a friendly hug, saying their hello’s.

“I mentioned to Lizzy that I’ll be in the studio tomorrow not far from you guys if you wanted to grab some lunch and come back with me, I was kinda hoping you all could listen to a song we wrote for my next album,” Harry asked him.

“Yeah, man, that sounds cool. I’ll let the other’s know,” Matt nodded, turning to Lizzy, “You ready to go? I’ll go grab your bags.”

Elizabeth smiled as he headed towards the pile of bags that were being taken off of the plane. She turned to look at Harry whose lips were turned down in a frown again and she laughed, standing on her toes to give him a hug. He squeezed her tighter and nestled his head into her hair, swaying her slightly.

“Thanks for everything,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he choked up, covering it with a little chuckle, standing up. She could see his eyes looked glassy, “You say it like I won’t see you again.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “It’s one night! I’m going to see you tomorrow!”

“I know. But I got used to being with you.”

Matt returned with the bags, throwing them in the trunk and getting in the car, waiting patiently. She turned back to Harry with an empathetic frown, placing her hands on his cheek and pressing her lips to his. This time, it felt different. The kiss felt more deep and loving than it ever had. She fed into it, letting herself be carried away in the moment before snapping back to reality. When she pulled away he looked into her eyes for a moment and her heart started racing, understanding. She knew it at that moment. The hurt she felt from having to leave, the yearning for more of his touch. The unwavering feeling of comfort by just a look from him. The ache she felt seeing him even remotely upset, even if it was over something so silly. She loved him.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, stepping back. This is a pretty shitty time to come to this realization, a little scared at how fast it hit her. She gave him one more smile before stepping into the passenger seat, waving goodbye to Harry and everyone else as they drove away.

“Things look like they’re going alright with you and Harry, yeah?” Matt said, “Did you guys make it official yet?”

“Not yet,” Elizabeth swallowed, turning up the stereo to his car.

The great thing about having been friends with Matt for over twelve years was that he knew her completely. When she was happy, when she was upset, when she was angry, and when she needed a distraction. So instead of carrying on the conversation, he did what he does best: make her laugh. He blasted the raunchiest songs he had on his playlist and they screamed the lyrics at the top of their lungs, rocking the car as they danced. Stopping at her home was a ten minute ordeal, throwing her luggage in her room and transferring her makeup to a smaller duffel bag with new, clean clothes before going right back in Matt’s car.

They decided to stop and grab some carryout chinese food for everyone on the way to Lewis and Kate’s house, letting themselves right in the door and tossing it on the table before tackling her friends who were spread across the couch. Kate and Elizabeth screeched in excitement, squeezing each other tightly and laughing.

“How was your honeymoon?” Elizabeth finally sat up, giving a quick hug to Lewis as Matt unloaded the food.

“Oh my god, so dreamy! I’m a little sad to be back!” Kate swooned, thanking Matt for her food. “How was LA? I need all the details.”

“It was good, but you first! I wanna know everything.”

Kate and Lewis gushed about their week-long adventure in Cancun, swimming, relaxing, and exploring. It amazed her how much Kate and Lewis seemed genuinely in love, even after twelve years of growing up with each other. A true inspiration.

Elizabeth nearly avoided having to talk about her trip, until Kate remembered. When she mentioned all the things that had happened, she started out vague at first. But towards the end, she wound up spilling her soul out to her friends; telling them about the interviews, about how many times they had sex and how great it was, about her feelings, about how she thought she loved him. They listened, uninterrupting. They let her spill everything that’s been on her chest the past two weeks that she was too afraid to say to Harry. She didn’t realize how much emotion she had pent up until she felt her chest get heavy and her eyes start to well up with tears. Her three friends surrounded her, smothering her in hugs.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Matt was the first to speak, surprising them with how serious he was being. “Listen, after all the shit you went through the last time he left and the bullshit with Kyle, I don’t blame you for being scared. But, Lizzy, he’s not Kyle. I know I talked all this shit two weeks ago about being careful, but he seems ready for this.”

Kate nodded in agreement, “You should give him a chance.”

“I know. And he’s been really patient with me while I try to figure everything out. But it’s not just as simple as ‘I’ll be your girlfriend now’, you know? There’s the press, the fans, the effect on his image. It’s a lot involved.”

“And you should have that conversation with him,” Lewis said. “It doesn’t have to be right this second. But when you have the opportunity where you two can really sit down face-to-face and have a conversation privately, you should tell him how you feel. You should allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

“Yeah, and at least this way you can continue to babystep your relationship. If it starts out more privately it gives you more time to adjust to this new kind of world before the press finds out. I mean obviously there are already people who are assuming you’re dating, but it seems like for the most part people truly believe you’re just old friends,” Kate said.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, thanking her friends for their words of advice and encouragement. She heard her phone alert her of a text and she grabbed it, seeing it was a message from Harry. She opened it with a slight smile, but as she read, that smile started to disappear.

‘I’m so sorry Lizzy.’

Her eyes furrowed in confusion as she clicked the link that was attached to his text and her throat swelled, palms sweaty as she read the title ‘Just Friends? Harry Styles Caught Kissing An Old School ‘Friend’.’ The picture immediately below was a shot from when they landed back in London as they were saying goodbye to each other. Elizabeth’s hands were on his cheeks and he had her in a tight hug, leaning over her slightly so that she was slightly bent back. Her cheeks flushed as she read the article that had tons of remarks about how Harry had been denying their involvement all week and how they definitely seem to be closer than he’s said, and things like ‘We didn’t know friends kissed like that’. How the hell would he explain that one away?

KEEP READING

#Harry #Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #one direction #one direction fan fic #one direction fan fiction #fluff #smut

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purplekiwis · 4 years

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From the Dining Table - Chapter III

Chapter III is here! It’s supposed to be the final chapter, but I’m still feeling kinda icky about the writing in this chapter and the ending, if any of you would like me to keep working on this story please let me know, I’m always happy to get any type of feedback from you. Lots of love to all of you ❤️ Check out the previous chapters: Chapter I | Chapter II Word Count: 6K Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Sexual References Summary: Friends to Lovers; Y/N is a graphic designer working at a small studio in London. She lives a pretty ordinary life, considering she also happens to be friends with an internationally known musician. Which is fine... Until she finds herself having to face the feelings she developed for her friend, who's the last person she expected to fall in love with.

Chapter III - The Comedown

You ended up deciding that the best thing to do would be to call the police and inform them on what had truly happened. Leaving Harry and the band out of it, and pretending like they really hadn’t been there for the whole time the fuss had went down.

Even though Alexa threw a tantrum about it, you could tell she appreciated the fact that she had people there to support her. Besides, deep down, she knew there was no way she would’ve been allowed back there had you told the story she wanted to go for: That she’d had a creative meltdown that resulted in her trashing the studio out of frustration. It sounds quite odd, but the truth is that that version of events would most likely be believable to anyone who happened to be aware of Alexa’s most temperamental side... Although despite being very on brand for her, the tormented artist argument certainly wouldn’t have pleased her fans, nor the management, and much less the studio owners.

The rest of the week went by in the blink of an eye. Next thing you knew it was already Saturday again and you were getting ready for Alexa’s party. Yes, she decided to go through with it regardless of the start of the week’s unfortunate event. She kept it small though, inviting only her closest friends, that made for a considerably small group compared to the usual hundreds of guests that attended her parties.

Y/N put in an extra effort in her outfit that time. Deciding to wear a black floral chiffon dress with sheer details, paired with a pair of plum colored booties, that matched perfectly the shades of the flowers in your dress and the matte lipstick you were wearing. She ended up being one of the first guests to arrive to the house...Not because she wanted to be early, but because Alexa called and begged Y/N to come help her put up some decorations before the party started, since you were used to doing that artsy shit, as she put it. “Damn girl, where’s the rest of the band?” The girl playfully asked as soon as she layed eyes on you.

“What do you mean?” You chuckled at her question. “They won’t be here for a while... You asked me to come early, remember? For the lights...”

“No, I’m not talking about Sarah’s. You know that 70’s band Pussycat? You totally got that vibe going on.” She signaled your dress by drawing a circle in the air with her finger. “Like, a similar sort of indie, effortlessly cool, carefree style.”

“Effortless? Carefree?!” “Not in a sloppy way! In a I don’t even have to try to look this pretty way.”

“Fine, I’ll take it. You look gorgeous. I love that hair on you.” “Thank you, I try…” She shrugged, making a little spin and staring at you from over her shoulder. “Hey, you know who I think will really like your outfit? Your big fat crush.” “Oh, shut it.”

Alexa was right though. Because the first thing Harry did when he arrived was compliment you on your outfit. He was wearing a two piece black suit and LV boots, looking just as amazing as he always did. It got quite annoying, really.

Unlike it happened last time, you were feeling totally relaxed at the party. Maybe it was partly because you were already running with a couple drinks in your system, but mostly, Y/N was pretty sure... was because Harry was in a very chill mood that night, what meant she didn’t have to keep checking on him all the time, since he had been sitting next to her on the couch from the moment he had gotten to Alexa’s. The lot of you had been playing a made-up charades drinking game, because well, let’s face it, there aren't many other games you can play at a party with blasting music on the background... Unless we’re talking beer pong, but that’s just a little too corny for people who are far from being pissed out drunk at university.

Now, the issue with drinking games is that most times, you don’t really notice how drunk you’re getting until it’s already too late to do anything about it... And well… that may have happened to you. All you knew was that one minute you were sitting down, completely sober.... and the next you were losing your mind over the start of Let’s Dance by David Bowie. Luckily Harry was there to share your exhilaration, by grabbing your hand and dragging you to dance with him. At first you were just twirling around and singing your heart out, but when the line “Let’s sway” came in, Harry pulled you into crashing against his chest and jokingly swayed with you around the room that, for unknown reasons, was starting to feel a little too small for your ambitious dance moves. So you kept going down the hallway, somehow making your way into the dining room.

Your giggles were so loud that you could barely make up the music anymore. All you could pay attention to were Harry’s eyes, and how they seemed to swirl you away from reality and into a unknown green paradise where it was only you and him. You couldn’t tell, due to your drunken state but you were fully spacing out inside your head. Allowing for your body move for itself, and for your mind to run wild. When you came back from it, you realized you were no longer swaying... Just hugging and swinging your body to a song by Bread in the middle of Alexa’s empty dining room.

Harry had his hands carefully placed on your hips, your head was buried in his soft chest. You had no idea how long you had been doing this for, but you were enjoying it too much to stop, and apparently so was he.

You only parted your body away from his when the situation became too absurd not to be awkward, in other words, when you cought onto the fact you had been slow dancing to You Spin Me Round, without realizing it. When he felt you pulling away, he gently grabbed your hand and made you do a little spin for him, before letting go of you. “I’m so fucking drunk right now.” You chuckled, burying your face back in his neck.

“Yeah, I know.” You walked towards one of the room’s windows and opened it, leaning your body against the balcony way too confidently for a drunk person, making Harry rush to you and grab your hand to pull you back. “Don’t worry silly, I’m not going to fall.”

“I’m not risking it.” Harry pressed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. His bottom leaned against the dining table, and yours leaned into his lap, not quite sitting in it, just stuck between his arms and legs.

“How could I fall again when I’ve already been falling for so long?” “What did you just say?” He asked, holding you tighter in a playful way.

“Nothing, just forget it.” “You said you’ve been falling? Who’ve you been falling for missy?”

You stared at your feet, playing with the heel of your boot on your toecap to avoid his curious gaze. “No one…”

“Well, I think I know.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, staring at your bashful face with his longing eyes. “I told you I’d figure out your little mystery...”

“Who is it then?” “It’s Alexa, isn’t it?” “What? No! Why would you think that?” You drunkenly scorned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Let’s see... You coming to her party and vanishing in the middle of the night was super odd… and well, I pulled some strings and found out that apparently, so did she. So, naturally I got suspicious that you two spent the night together. Then, she came and asked me for your number. Adding that to the fact that you became like great friends from one day to the next, when I know that you used to despise her, it made it pretty clear that there was something fishy going on. Oh! Not to mention the way you jumped to save her from that dickhead. That was some real gay novel shit by the way.” He laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sure that you two have, at least, a little fling going on.” “Nice try, but you’re... so wrong.” “No way! At least some part of it has to be right…” “It’s not, actually… It couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Right, who is it then?” “You can try to guess, it’s really not that hard…” “Do I know them?” “Yeah…” “But do I know-know them, or just know them?” “You know them very well…” “Is it Sarah?” “No.” “Is it Claire?” “No.” “Is it...” “It’s not a girl.” “Oh, okay… I did not see that one coming.” He scratched the back of his head. “That puts things in a different perspective... So, is it like a boy or is it someone with a different gender?”

“It’s a boy.” “Is he handsome?” “Hmm.. I guess? I would say so, yeah.” “I’m gonna take that as a somewhat… You don’t sound very convinced.” “I mean, if you say so…” You couldn’t help but to laugh at his reasoning. God, is he really that oblivious to the fact that it’s him?

“Is it that guy from your work? I don’t remember his name…”

“Whoever you’re thinking of, it’s not him.” “So you didn’t meet him at work?”

“Hm... I guess I kind of did, yeah.” “Is it Mitch?”

What does Mitch have to do with my work anyway? “No.” “Is it John?”

“Are you serious?” “What? I’m trying… Is it your boss?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake Harry!” In a random act of courage, perhaps even desperation, you jumped off his lap and turned around to face him. Pushing back all the second thoughts, you cupped his face with both your hands and pushed your lips onto his.

He didn’t react at first and you felt his body tensen up. As you were about to pull away and get ready to run, he gave into the kiss, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb as your lips and tongues danced together.

You could feel the blood running wild inside your veins as the kisses became tougher and the mood got steamier. His hands now dived into the folds of your dress, pulling you closer onto his lap. You felt the grip of his hands on your bum as he turned you around so you were the one sitting on the table. His hands moved up and down your thighs, dragging the fabric of your dress along, until it rested on your hips, as he inserted his body in between your legs.

Your hands were all over him, and his were all over you.

You could feel the thrill of it all over you, but the pulsation was definitely predominant and harder to bear in your core, and you could tell he felt the same way when he unwittingly began grinding his hips against edge of the table, desperate for any type of friction he could get.

You grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer to where your body craved him the most, simultaniously pushing yourself further off the table, to facilitate the access. “Y/N... we shouldn’t. We can’t.” The boy mumbled, eyes closed and body still glued to yours.

You chose to ignore his apprehension, placing kisses on his jawline and down to his neck to keep him going and assure him that you were fine with whatever it was that you were doing, and you could feel him begin to melt into them. “Stop.” He spoke in a harsher tone, talking more to himself than to you as he pushed himself away. “This is wrong.”

“Was it something I did?” “No, it’s not you! It’s just… We’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“I won’t”

“Y/N… You’re drunk.”

“I would want this just as much if I was sober.”

“Don’t say that.”

You fell into a silence, but unlike it usually happened between you, the silence was far from confortable, it was deafening. “I’m guessing you don’t feel the same…”

“I...I don’t know…” “It would be easier if you just said you don’t, I can take it.” “Yeah, um... This is…fuck, I don’t know what to say. I never thought about you like that before, we’ve always just been friends.”

“I know, but... You’re right. This was stupid.” You mumbled. You got up in a jump and fixed your dress, trying your hardest to fight back the tears that threatned to escape, you turned your back to him and began walking towards the door. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home, Harry.” “But... Seriously? You’re just going to run away?!” “No, I just… I don’t think I can do this right now.” “I’m sorry, you’re right... I get it. It’s a lot and... I’ll come by your house tomorrow so we can talk better, alright?” “I don’t think that will be necessary. Actually, can we just forget that this ever happened?” “Y/N, it’s okay that you can’t do it right now... but we need to talk.” “It’s fine, Harry. I don’t know what came over me, just let it go.” You felt a tear rolling down your cheek and wiped it away, but you were not quick enough for him not to notice it.

“Hey, hey, hey… Look at me. Please don’t cry.“ He rushed to you, but you held out your hand to urge him to stop. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not…” “Just forget it, okay? This was stupid, I was stupid.” “Don’t say that.” “It’s true Harry, this was… fuck.” – You attempted to wipe the tears away, but they just kept on coming and you could barely talk anymore due to the clog you felt on your throat.

“I’m so sorry… I never meant to hurt you.” You turned your back to him and ran out of the dining room, stopping past the living room to quickly grab your belongings. You briefly looked towards the sofa where your friends were and met Alexa’s expectant gaze, her facial expression encouraged you to come over, but you just shook your head disappointedly. She deduced what the reason behind your sadness was and got up form the sofa to come comfort you. A pityful frown was drawn on her tinted lips.

You heard Harry’s voice calling your name from the hallway and impulsively ran out the front door, leaving both of them behind on the porch screaming for you to come back, but you didn’t.

You knew it was stupid and irresponsible to drive while you were drunk, but you just couldn’t care, you were too overwhelmed to give a damn about anything other than the devastating feelings you felt over your entire body.

Sadness, hopelessness, shame, pain.

And god, you hated him.

You hated him for being so gentle, so kind, so polite.

You wished he would’ve taken advantage of you while you were drunk, you wished he would’ve laughed in your face or made you feel stupid, because that would’ve given you a reason to never want to talk to him again. But he didn’t, if anything he’d just given you a reason to love him more.

And it was agonizing... To think about his kisses, because you knew you’d never taste them again.

To hear him say he was sorry for hurting you, because you knew he meant it.

To know he was perfect, because you knew he would never be yours.

After that night, he tried to contact you multiple times, through texts, calls, voicemails… but you never answered. You never meant to avoid him, but you just didn’t have the strenght in you to finish the conversation that unnevitably was going to leave you even more heartbroken.

Days of silence turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, somewhere in the middle he stopped trying to reach you, and you didn’t blame him for it. What was he supposed to do anyway?

Sometimes you would ask Alexa about him, to make sure he was okay. Apparently he was doing great, his first solo album was about to come out and he already had a world tour planned for the next year.

Sometimes you wanted to call and tell him you still loved him and that were proud of him. But how could you? So you didn’t, and you didn’t show up at his launch party, even though you still got an invitation for it in your e-mail. How come he still wanted you there after what you’d done to him?

Even though you weren’t there to celebrate with him, you got the album on the day it came out. You bought the physical one, so you could see pictures of him as you listened. You must’ve really hate yourself to think that was a good idea, but you weren’t going to waste an opportunity to look at pictures of him without feeling guilty...

The day you picked up the album was actually a work day, what resulted in you listening to the CD while at work, because you were too impatient to wait to get home. You decided you would save the pictures for later though, for when you could suffer and beat yourself up in peace inside the four walls of your bedroom.

From the moment you started playing it, you were over the moon with it. You’d always known how talented he was, but the music was unbelievably good and even though you’d gotten to listen to some snippets that he showed you, nothing could describe the feeling you felt when listening to it all come together in the most amazing way possible.

While you inspected the copy in your hands, your eyes froze on the title of the last track - “From the Dining Table”. It was an odd song title and you didn’t remember him ever playing you that song. It also reminded you of the moment you shared at Alexa’s house and your stomach flipped, causing you to shrunk in your chair. You tried to push the thought to the back of your mind but it kept wondering... What if he really wrote about that?

You knew it was a long shot and that it obviously hadn’t been that big of a deal for him, at least not to the point where he would write a song about it, but your heart was pumping and your mind was racing to the thought that maybe, just maybe... Well, there’s only one way to find out. You skipped to the last song.

“Woke up alone in this hotel room, Played with myself, where were you? Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon I’ve never felt less cool.”

To the sound of his lyrics, your heart was filled by disappointment. Even though you told yourself you were already setting up to get your expectations crushed, apparently you were still naive enough to think that it could be about you. “We haven’t spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

Okay, but that could be about anyone else…

“I saw your friend that you know from work He said you feel just fine I see you gave him my old t-shirt More of what was once mine I see it’s written, it’s all over his face Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever say what you wanna say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

You dropped the album cover out of shock as the memories came flying by.

A few weeks prior you had found out that your co-worker Alfie had the same shirt Harry gifted you because you’d seen him wearing it around the studio one time. You also remembered that not long after the party, Alfie had been bragging about running into Y/N’s famous friend, as he called him, in the grocery store and how he had complimented his shirt... But you didn’t think much of it, guessing that it was just Harry trying to make small conversation. Somehow you never put two and two together, until now. “Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too, But you, you never do”

You couldn’t argue with that. He was right in his words.

“Woke up the girl who looked just like you I almost said your name We haven’t spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

During the time period you were apart, it never crossed your mind that he might be hurting as well. You just assumed that he was doing fine and that your absence didn’t bother him, and yet apparently, he missed you. He missed you enough to write a song about you and put it in his album.

You wished you could turn back time and give him a chance to speak his mind about what had happened. You wished you’d stayed when he called you from the hallway instead of running away like you always did when things got complicated.

You didn’t even realize that you were crying until someone tapped you in the shoulder to ask if you were okay. “Actually, no. I think I made a huge mistake.” You pulled off your earphones and shut yout laptop. “I need to go get some air... If Charles asks for me, just tell him I went outside for a call.” You told your coworker, before pushing yourself off your chair and heading towards the door.

You had been pacing around on the sidewalk for the past five minutes with your eyes stuck to your phone, ocasionally bumping onto passengers on the street. Some of them scoffed when you didn’t make a move to dodge them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to even apologize.

Your whole body felt numb other than the tight knot you felt on your stomach, begging to be released.

Without giving it a second thought, you went through your contacts and pressed Harry’s number. You had no idea about what you were about to say to him, all you knew was that you needed to listen to his voice. You needed to talk to him, even if that meant that you were going to have to face your biggest fear. “Hello.” His voice came out apprehensive... As if he was wondering if you’d accidently called the wrong number. It made your heart clench. How did you ever let it get to this point?

“I did not give him your shirt, you moron!” “Uh… Okay?” He seemed confused by the way you had decided to start this conversation, and honestly, so were you. “I’m guessing you listened to my song…?” “Yes I did!” “Well, what did you think?” “ I’m so proud of you! Your album is amazing, and... I’m so sorry I didn’t go to your party, I- also I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! I was childish and stupid and...”

“Wow, wow, wow… Slow down.” “I’m sorry.” You apologized again. “You probably don’t even want to be talking to me right now...” “I do.” “You do?” “If I didn’t I wouldn’t have picked up the call, don’t you think?” “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” “But hmm... before anything else, I hope you’re aware that there’s a pending conversation that we still need to have...” “Yeah, I know…” “Where are you right now?” “I’m at work.” “You’re calling me from work?” “No, I’m outside, I dodged so I could call you.” “Oh, I must be really important then..” You rolled your eyes a little at the provocation, even though he wasn’t there see you. “Do you want to meet after work? So we can talk properly? I don’t like to have serious conversations on the phone, besides, I don’t want you to get in trouble at work because of me...Again.” “Well, at least we’re not stealing anything this time, right? Where do you wanna meet?” “Hmm… Do you wanna come by the studio after work?” “What are you doing at the studio? You just released an album, you should be at home! ...Sleeping, celebrating, fucking someone... I don’t know, living life!” He laughed a bit at the question. “I guess I’m so used to being here all the time that my body naturally just started to assume that this is where I live now.”

“Have I ever told you how much of an unbelievably peculiar person you are?” The studio wasn’t too far from work to you. So you figured you would be best just walking there. Part of you was nervous, but the relief that you felt in knowing that you were going to see Harry again, turned the prospect of having this overdue conversation into something mildly pleasant. You were expecting Harry to have company with him, so you were surprised when you got to the door and noticed he was alone. Immersed in his notebook while playing cords in his guitar. Y/N stalled herself for a minute by the door, taking a moment to admire him. He looked so beautiful and fascinating when he was focused on his work that it effortlessly triggered your heart into pumping harder on your chest. How come someone so pure could make you hurt so bad?

He stopped whatever song he was playing for a second, bending down over his stomach a little to check the notebook perched on the table, and you took the chance to knock on the door. Carefully opening it with a soft smile painted on your lips.

“Oh! Hey you...” He greeted when his eyes recognized the face peeking at him. His lips were smiling, but you could tell he was reluctant about getting up to come greet you with a hug like he always did, so you just made the first move, walking over and squeezing him in your arms.

You felt his body relax under your hold. The realization that he didn’t mind your affection made your lips part into a relieved sigh. Both of you longed for the hug for a little longer than usual, in a silent way of letting eachother know that, no matter what had happened prior, everything was going to be alright.

He sat down and you followed, sitting on the other end of the couch. You began catching up with eachother, talking mostly about Harry’s album and having meaningless conversations. You could feel the tension in the air, and you knew he felt it too, since both of you had, not so discretly, been avoiding letting the silence settle in, but there was only so much you could talk about, and eventually you fell into an heavy silence.

Just as you were about to adress the subject that you had so desperately been trying to avoid, he spoke. “Do you wanna come see the new rooftop? It’s really nice up there.”

You nodded, not knowing if he was attempting to delay the awkward natured conversation or if he was genuinly that eager to show you the furniture they had up there. Either way, you didn’t mind the change in the scenario, and you definitely appreaciated the feel of the wind in your face, aliviating the feeling of heavyness you felt inside the room. “It really does look nice up here.” You observed as you took a look around yourself, finding comfort in the background noise of the never ending traffic happening just a couple of meters below.

“Be careful where you step though, don’t want you slipping on my vomit.”

“That was ages ago! I’m sure it’s all gone by now...”

“Yeah, you’re right… time does fly, doesn’t it?” He sat in one of the plastic chairs near the edge of the building. You answered with a nod and remained standing, taking in the view of the sun setting in the horizon. “Come here for a second.” The boy asked, pulling one of the plastic chairs from the table, so you could sit next to him.

“Oh boy... This is it, isn’t it? Serious conversation time?” You tried to lighten the sudden serious atmosphere by poking fun of it, sitting down and patting at your own knee with your finger, to avoid looking directly at the boy sitting beside you.

“I think so... Unless you’re about to run from me again.” Harry darted back, but his tone remained calm, with a light playfulness to it even.

“I won’t.” “Good.” He assented with a nod. “So... How ‘ave you been feeling?” “I’m okay... ‘Could be worse. You?” “I mean, career wise and stuff, it’s been great. Can’t complain. But uh... In other matters, ’ve been kinda miserable since that day, you know?” “Because of what we did?” “That’s part of it, yeah. But also...” You interrupted before you could finish. “I ruined our friendship didn’t I? God... It was so stupid, I’m sorry.” “No, it’s not like that at all... And it wasn’t stupid.” He took a big breath before daring to speak again. “I liked it, actually.” You lifted your eyes to look at him, only to realize that now it was him who was staring at his own feet. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah...” Harry squinted his eyes and looked at you with a smirk. “I don’t know what kind of spell you put on me, but it worked... Got me fucked, absolutely fucked.”

“I didn’t do anything eerie, I swear.” “Are you sure? You sounded a bit guilty there.” “I can't even make a decent soup... You really think I could muster making a love potion to give you that didn't come out completely the other way around? I’m flattered, but no.” Both of you allowed for the humorous notes to linger in the air for a while, whilst you prepared to ask the next question. “Do you regret that it happened?” “No, I don’t.” Harry replied easily. “I regret that I let you get away after, though.” “I also regret going away...” “When I called you from the hallway, I was going to ask you to stay...” “You were?” “Yeah,” He laughed at your surprised state. “But going back now, I think that it was a good thing that we had time to think about stuff... Maybe if you’d stayed we’d end up rushing into things.” “I still think it was unfair what I did to you. I was a coward, I didn’t want to deal with the consequences of my own actions, so I ran and left you to deal with it all alone... When the problem wasn’t even yours in the first place.” “It’s fine... seriously.” He took the opportunity to hold your hand in between his, caressing the back of it with his thumbs. “What matters most is that you’re here now, and trying to fix it.” You placed your other hand on top of his, just so you could caress his skin as well. He gave you a smile, not making a single move to pull away from the intimate moment. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed at you.” “I don’t blame you, I would too if I was you.” “No you wouldn’t. You’re a softie, you don’t know how to get angry at people.” “I hate that you know that. Can never keep anything from you, can I?” “I think you can. I didn’t know you liked boys, for example...” “I don’t. Usually...” Your first reply came out as quick as a flash. “Guess you’re that special, huh?” “Careful, there. Might get big-headed...” You smiled a little at his words. “So… that means you still feel the same, you know, about me?”

“Yeah, I- I guess I do.” Your answer came out shy, almost like a spoken exhale. “What about you?” You shifted the direction of the conversation before the unavoidable feeling of pity you were expecting could take over Harry’s features. “Have you been seeing someone?” “Hmm… I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss my love life with you now...” “We’re still friends Harry. We can talk about it, just leave out the gory details.” “So... there’s this girl…” He eased in slowly. “She’s a bit of a nightmare, if I’m honest... But at the same time, she’s also one of the best people I’ve ever known, you know? And I think I really like her... But there’s a part of me that’s scared of taking the next step and asking her out because, well... It’s a little complicated.” “How does she feel about you?” “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’m assuming she likes me because of the way she acts with me, but she never really uses her words, so...” “So you guys have been sort of dating, is that it...?” “No, it was just a one time thing. I was planning on asking her out, but I never got to do it after all...” “I think you should. There’s only one way to find out if she likes you or not. Take your chance while you can... Don’t be like me, you know?” “You know what? You’re right. I think I’m gonna do it.” He said, getting up from his seat in a jump and grabbing the phone in his pocket.

“Oh. You’re gonna do it right now?” “I was. Do you mind it? I can always do it later…”

“No, no. It’s fine, go ahead. The sooner the better, I suppose.” At that, he walked away from you... And you thanked God beause you felt like you were about to combust under your clothes at how insensitive he was being! Couldn’t he sense that you were dying on the inside? You knew he didn’t mean to make you feel like shit... He was just being casual spontaneous Harry but fuck, it was too soon for this crap!

Harry was pacing around the rooftop while looking through his contacts, making sure to keep a large distance between the both of you, just so you couldn’t listen to his conversation. He took the device to his ear, sparing you a curious look as he did so. When he noticed your eyebrows raising inquisitively, he just grinned and flashed you his thumb. You were trying to figure out the meaning behind the gesture, when you felt your phone start to vibrate inside your pocket, shaking your head when you saw the name displayed on the screen. You chose to pick up the call, trying to poke fun at him. “Wrong number!” You said, expecting nothing but for him to tilt his head back with a smile from his side of the roof before pressing decline and searching for the right contact.

“Sorry, what was that?” “You’re calling me, idiot. Y/N, the one who’s right behind you.” “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to call you for a bit...” “What are you on ab-?” You still managed to question before realization finally kicked in. “Oh.” You exclaimed, still a little flabbergasted. “Was that about me? Am I... her?” “Yeah, look... Like I was saying, I’ve been meaning to call ‘cause I wanted to ask if you would you like to go out on a date sometime...” “Couldn’t you just invite me like a normal fucking person?” “I could... but where’s the fun in that?” He asked back, sparing you a brief look as he walked from side to side across the roof’s open space. Still a little far from where you were sat. “So, what do you say?” “Yes, I would like to go out with you.” “She said yes!” He shouted at the sky, before dropping to his knees in a theatrical way whilst fisting the air in celebration.

“You’re an exhibitionist prick.” “Am I? I thought you liked it.” He asked, finally turning his attention to you and giving you a cocky stare.

“Just come over here and kiss me already.” You concluded, hanging up the call at last, knowing he would come walking over as soon as you did. Almost exactly as you had forecasted, you watched your friend stuff his phone back in his pocket and pacing back towards the chairs with a stupid grin on his face before he bent down over his knees right in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “Hi.” You brushed your noses together, trying to hide the silly smile painted on your face but failing miserably.

Harry leaned in at the gesture, placing a light peck over your lips before pulling away. He kept his nose and lips brushing softly into yours. The push and pull game was driving you mad... Even though you knew he was doing it to tease you on purpose, your eagerness made it impossible for you to resist going after what you wanted. You caved in, pulling him by the collar for a proper kiss. But before you could close the short distance, Harry got up and pulled you up from the chair by your waist, so that you were both standing.

He kissed you, then. Soft and slow at first… but it wasn’t long until the desire took over the both of you and you found yourselves rushing down the stairs back to the studio, making out against practically every wall you came across in the process.

You couldn’t put together when exactly one of you had decided to go back downstairs, let alone which one of you was the leader or follower, but the harshness in the way you were pressing against each other made it clear that both of you had the same thing on your mind.

Between the groping and the wet kisses you lost track of where you were going, only realizing you were back on the place you had started when you felt your back press up against the door knob of the studio’s rented room. You reached behind and opened it, allowing Harry to lock the door and lead your body to where he wanted it. He turned both of you around and sat on the sofa, pulling you by the back so that you sat on his lap.

Almost unconsciously, you began grinding your hips against his thigh, feeling his body begin to stiffen under you. His warm hands slid from the small of your back down to your bottom, caressing your ass over your jeans before giving a sudden tug to pull you closer, so you were positioned right atop of his lenght, causing you to squirm a little.

Your lips began to wonder down his jaw then, placing gente kisses and sucks until you noticed his sped up heatbeat over the larger vein of his neck. The way his breathing was starting to sound all hot and heavy only led you on more... As you grinded your hips again his, now clearly visible, bump. Harry hissed at the contact, curling his fingers around your hips and tugging to keep you rubbing on him for a while. But it wasn’t enough. He could tell you needed more, judging by the small gasps and hums you were letting out for him, and he was more than happy to keep prodding them on. “Wanna take care of you.” The boy confeesed, moving his hands from your back to your front, and wasting no time before undoing the button and the zipper of your dark colored jeans. “Will you let me?” “Yes, I want you to...” You admitted. “but...” “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” He guessed.

“A little…yeah.” You buried your face in his neck to hide your embarassment.

“It’s okay love, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” He cupped your face, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I know, it’s just…” “Is it because of my…” He looks down at his own lap. “You know.“

“No, Harry, I’m not scared of your dick if that’s what you’re thinking...” “What is it then?” “I’ve never, you know… did it with a guy before.” “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? We don’t even have to do anything at all.” “But I want to. It’s just, what if I’m not good at it?” “We’ll take it slow, start with the basics and we’ll go on from that, okay? I’ll be here for you and you’ll be here for me. We all like different stuff, it’s not like there’s a guide for it, I’ll learn what you like and you’ll learn what I like... This is new for me too.” “Yeah, right…” You scoffed.

“Not everyone likes the same stuff… It’s always new when the partner changes, it doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or a girl, of course some things are a little different but we’re all human, right?” “Okay, I guess you’re right.” “I’m always right.” “You’re gonna get cocky on me now?” His eyes lit up once he opened his mouth to speak. You could tell he was about to make a filthy pun about his cock. “Don’t you dare saying it.” You playfully warned, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Better hurry to shut me up then, or I might not be able to hold myself.”

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trashforhockeyguys · 5 years

Text

Can’t Help But Love You -3- Kasperi Kapanen

A/N: All previous parts are linked on my masterlist. Also, sorry it took so long, and the fact that it’s being posted on Valentines Day. Although, I regret nothing.

When you woke up in the morning, all you could think about was how nice it felt to be in Kappy’s arms. His head was still nestled in the crook of you neck, and you could feel his chest rising and falling with every little snore he let out. You were completely comfortable and happy. All of this was something you normally just dreamt of, yet this time it was real.

There was nothing that would cause you to want to move from this spot. You wanted this moment just to stay like this. You wanted his arms to always stay around you like this, with his chest against your back. You were wrapped in warmth, you weren’t sure how many times you’d really woken up next to Kappy, but never had it been like this.

He stirred just enough for you to realize that he was beginning to wake up. That fact alone was enough to make you snuggle back into his arms. You’d decided that you didn’t want to leave this bed for anything. You wanted to stay in his arms for as long as you possibly could. You didn’t really care if that meant abandoning everyone else in the house.

You rolled over in his arms so you could face him. He looked so peaceful and comfortable. You carefully reached over and stroked his cheek. He smiled, still fast asleep. Your whole body felt warm. You felt an undeniable since of happiness, it was almost too much.

You almost felt as if your heart couldn’t take it. You weren’t often emotional, except for when it came to Kappy apparently. That boy held your heart in his hands whether he knew it or not, and you were giving him more and more of yourself by the second. You’d give it all to him if he asked.

That fact alone was enough to scare you. You’d never really be truly in love with anyone like this. You’d never wanted a whole future with anyone the way you wanted it with Kappy. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning, and fall sleep with him every night. You wanted the in between moments…you wanted it all.

“Kap, I need to pee,” You whispered, regretting that you even had to move. But at the same time, you suddenly wanted just a bit of space to process what you were feeling, before you came running back into bed.

He groaned and held you even tighter, “Not letting go.”

“Unless you want me to pee all over you, I suggest that you do,” You lightly laughed.

Even from his sleepy state, he released his grip on you, allowing you to wiggle away slightly. But before you could completely get out of the bed you leaned back over to kiss him. He made a noise, somewhere between a mix of a groan and a whine, before trying to roll over and reach for you again. You had to fight yourself to not just give up and crawl back into bed with him, even though every bone in your body was screaming at you to do just that.

“I’ll be right back,” You promised him, gently moving some of his hair out of his face.

“I love you,” His words were muffled by the pillow, but you knew you’d heard them right.

Your breath hitched and you turned back to look at him. Some small part of you was so sure that he hadn’t really said it. But then you realized, in a split second, that he had said it. And he loved you. He loved you.

You were standing there, trying to understand what this would really mean. Not even a minute had gone by, barely even thirty seconds, when he said something else. A name. But the name wasn’t yours, it wasn’t even close to yours. A name you’d never heard before, but it wasn’t yours. He wasn’t saying that to you.

Just as you’d gotten your hopes up. Just as you’d started to think that it would be different this time, and you and Kappy could actually be more than whatever you’d always been, the situation changed again.

You felt like you’d be sick. You suddenly became very aware that you were still only wearing his shirt. You couldn’t even bring yourself to grab your clothes from the floor. It was all you could do to even force yourself back into your room.

You felt like you were going to be sick. You’d allowed yourself to think that this was the beginning of something real, but you were beginning to realize nothing had changed. Kappy was still Kappy, and you were still just you. Just his friend, the person he used during the season because he was afraid of commitment.

It hit you all at once, it didn’t matter how long the two of you played this game, he’d never see you the same way that you saw him. You’d never be more to him.

You had the sudden need to get out of the house. For some reason, you couldn’t stay anymore. Whether it was because you felt brayed in a way, or if you simply just didn’t know how to get through the rest of the week, you weren’t sure.

You frantically grabbed for your bag and searched for the most comfortable clothes you could find. Next you ran right for the shower, feeling the need to scrub every inch of your skin. You just hoped that he wouldn’t be awake by the time you finished.

Twenty minutes later you were carrying your two bags downstairs, praying that no one would fight you on this. Steph, Mitch, and Willy were all sitting in the little breakfast nook, while Auston was stretched out on the couch in the living room. Zach, and more importantly, Kappy were nowhere to be seen.

“Why do you have your bags?” Mitch questioned.

“Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?” Steph quickly got up and made her way over to you.

“I need to go,” You replied, “I need to get out of here.”

“But the week just started,” Willy protested.

“You guys are free to stay,” You quickly explained, “But I just can’t stay. I need to leave.”

Willy stepped in front of you to keep you from running right out of the kitchen. You knew he’d let you passed him if you tried, but you also knew that you owed your friends some type of explanation before you just disappeared.

“Y/N, what did he do?” Willy asked carefully.

You shook your head and grabbed your bags. You couldn’t explain it to him, or Mitch, or Steph. Because they wouldn’t understand. They’d tell you that you were being silly. So you said nothing as you pushed by Willy.

“Just-” You paused at the door and turned back to face them, “Just tell him that I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” Willy pleaded.

“I’ll see you guys later,” You promised, “Enjoy the rest of the week.”

You were in your car and backing out of the driveway before any of them thought to try and stop you. All you knew was that you had to get away. You couldn’t stay in that house with him now. Not after last night and this morning. Not when he said he loved someone else. You’d been kidding yourself, and now you had to figure out how to face it.

You made sure that you’d driven far enough away from the house, so that you wouldn’t be found, before you pulled over. You needed to stop and breathe because you felt like your lungs were going to explode. You loved him and you hated yourself for it. You’d allowed yourself to fall right back into it again, you didn’t even try to fight it.

You wanted to scream, it was all you could do not to. You’d tried to fight it all again, and you’d lost. You’d always lose to him… Always.

Well over a month later, you were still successfully avoiding Kappy. He’d stopped trying to call you nearly two weeks after you’d walked out. Willy stopped calling too after you’d yelled at him one night. You hated doing this; cutting all of your friends off like this wasn’t ideal. But you didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t see Kappy, you weren’t prepared for what that would feel like.

You hadn’t been ready to lose him like this either, but you didn’t have a choice, you had to do what you had to do. Even if that meant losing the most important person in your life. You knew you were being stupid in a way, but you didn’t know what else to do.

You had to cope, or whatever. Or at least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

You’d been fine sitting on your couch, watching Dawson’s Creek over and over again. You’d probably eaten your weight in chocolate, and already watched every episode of Friends and Criminal Minds. You were starting to run low on options to keep yourself busy.

“Get your ass up and in a jersey,” Steph demanded, bursting into your apartment, “Huh, you moved on to Dawson’s Creek, interesting choice.”

“Hello Steph,” You said sarcastically.

“C’mon, up now,” She switched off your TV, “You’re coming to the game tonight.”

“Hey! They were about to-”

“I don’t care who they were about to fight over, again,” She groaned, “You are not going to sit here and watch Dawson’s Creek all night.”

“Fine, I’ll watch The O.C. or Gossip Girl,” You shrugged, “Maybe, I’ll even watch Degrassi again, because I haven’t watched that since high school.”

“You’re pathetic,” She told you, “Get up, get dressed, I’m not letting you hide out anymore. You promised you’d come, so you’re coming.”

“Steph, I really don’t-”

“And I really don’t care anymore,” She argued, “I don’t care about whatever happened between you and Kappy. He doesn’t even know what he did, he just knows he woke up and you were gone and no one knew why. You won’t even talk to any of the other guys. So, you’re going to this fucking game, because we all miss our friend.”

You sighed and reluctantly stood up. You knew she was right. You’d completely cut them all off without an explanation. But only because you couldn’t bring yourself to explain it to Kappy. Not when you still felt so betrayed. You’d trusted him this time, you thought it would be different.

“I’m leaving in five minutes,” Steph stated, “You better be in the car when I do.”

Whether you liked it or not, nearly twenty minutes later, Steph was dragging you into the arena. You hadn’t been to a game since preseason started, and now with the home opener drawing closer, you could feel the excitement.

You hadn’t planned on going to sit with all of the other family, but once again Steph hadn’t given you a choice. If there was one thing that Steph was incredibly good at, it was making you do things. You couldn’t say no to her most of the time, even when that’s all you wanted to do. She’d just talk you into it anyway.

“See, this wasn’t so hard,” She mentioned, once the game already started.

“If they lose, I’m going to be really pissed off,” You grumbled.

“But at least you came,” She shrugged.

“Against my will,” You added.

“But you’re here,” She stated, “Wait, go Mitch! C’mon SHOOT! Oh damnit, so close.”

You shook your head and turned back to watch the game. The boys were winning, but it was preseason, so wins and loses didn’t mean much yet. Everyone was still trying to get back into the swing of things.

However, that didn’t stop Steph from grabbing your arm, so hard she’d probably leave bruises, any time anything happened. You were almost positive you’d have a large bruise the shape of her hand tomorrow. At least it was getting colder, so sweaters were now acceptable.

“See they won, now you won’t be grumpy,” She grinned.

“No, I’m still grumpy. I was more than happy to stay on my couch,” You corrected, “But you would’ve dragged me here one way or another.”

“Yes I would’ve,” She laughed, “C’mon, I told Mitch we’d wait down here.”

“What? No!”

Your feet automatically stopped moving. You couldn’t force yourself to take another step. Because suddenly the realization that you were in the same building as Kappy actually hit you. During the game, you knew he couldn’t see you in the crowd of thousands. He wouldn’t know you were there, unless you went down and waited by the locker room. You hadn’t even realized that you and Steph had gotten so far through the tunnels. You were almost to the locker room.

You felt like your heart was in your throat and your lungs were threatening to explode. Steph, who’d kept walking, suddenly stopped and turned, seeming to realize you’d stopped. She looked back at you and gestured for you to keep walking.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t talk to him, or even be near him. You were still so far away from him, but you could already feel your heart starting to break. You loved him, you loved him so much it was causing you physical pain.

“Steph,” You whimpered, “I can’t.”

“Y/N, what happened between you two?” She questioned, rushing back over to you.

Tears started burning your eyes, no matter how hard you tried to fight them. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You couldn’t ignore your friends, the people that were like your second family, anymore.

“I love him,” You mumbled, “God I love him so much.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She questioned.

“He doesn’t love me Steph,” You shook your head, “He’ll never love me. I’m just the best friend who can’t resist him.”

“Y/N, you can’t possibly think that’s true? Honestly, are you both that dense?”

“Steph I-”

“Y/N?”

That voice caused your head to snap in the direction of the locker room door. There he was, still wet from the showers, long hair dripping. His chest was heaving, like he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. He was blinking rabidly, almost like he expected you to just disappear. He took a single shaky step out of the locker room, still leaving the door wide open.

“Kap! Close the door dumb-” William came into sight, and instantly stopped speaking as well, “Y/N, you’re here.”

“I, um,” You took a deep breath and looked back at Steph, “I’ll see you later Steph.”

And then you turned and started quickly walking away. You could hear the commotion behind you. Kappy was trying to get someone to let him go, so he could come after you. The prospect of that made you begin to almost run. You knew that there was a side tunnel that would take you outside, where you could get an Uber and finally get away.

You just had to get outside. You fumbled with your phone and clicked on the Uber app. Once you got outside you knew you could run to the other side of the rink, where by the time anyone would get over there, you’d be long gone.

“Y/N! Please stop!” Kappy called from not that far behind you, “Please!”

You gathered all the strength you had left and turned back around. He was running towards you but slowed when he saw that you’d finally stopped. He was almost out of breath by the time he reached you. You couldn’t help but think that he’d sprinted the entire way around the arena, which he would’ve had to have done to catch up with you.

“Talk to me,” He begged, “Please. Tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

You were crying by this point, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head. He reached for you, trying to grab your hands. You knew he was trying to understand, just as much as you’d been trying to understand how you’d gotten to this point.

“I can’t Kappy,” You whispered.

“Y/N, this is me, you can talk to me about anything,” He assured you, “I don’t want to lose us.”

The sound of a car pulling up broke your trance. Your phone dinged, alerting you to the fact that it was your Uber. You wiggled out of his grasp, stopping to take a good look at him. Even he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“What did I do?” He asked you again, “What did I do?”

You could feel your heart break this time. The feeling radiated through your entire body. You loved him, but he didn’t love you. The worst part was that he couldn’t even see it. He didn’t know, and you couldn’t tell him.

You shook your head, stepping away from him, “I can’t Kappy,” You repeated.

“I can’t lose you Y/N,” He protested, tears finally falling.

“I’m sorry.”

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lachlantrash · 5 years

Text

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?"

You can't believe you're about to do this. You've never been the kind of girl to feel like she needs a man, always being pretty independent. But tonight, feeling pretty buzzed and awake from the little party earlier at Mitch and Jerome's, where you're staying, you can't find it in you to sleep and want nothing more than to spend time with the man you began dating, Lachlan Power. Knowing he's down the hall, just a few steps away, is enough to pull you out of your bed and causes you to trot down the hall without a second thought. The door's still open a crack, a soft light from what appears to be a laptop lighting the room as you gently knock on the door.

"Lachlan? It's (Y/N)..." You trail off, feeling silly now that you're actually outside of his room. What do you expect him to do? Standing there a second longer and getting no response, you think hopefully he didn't hear you as you go to walk back down the hall.

"Hey." You hear, breaking you out of your thoughts as you look at the door opening in front of you, revealing Lachlan wearing nothing but a pair of Nike sweatpants. "What's up?" Lachlan asks, nervously scratching the back of his neck as he looks at you. You're wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of your own Nike sweatpants, your hair pulled into a messy bun and Lachlan can't help but to imagine coming home to this version of you nightly.

"Sorry, you must've been trying to sleep, it's late." You laugh nervously, feeling even more stupid than before.

"No, god no! What's up, I'm feeling pretty awake." Lachlan says, blushing afterwards because it sounds so needy once he's said it, but he just wants you to stay and talk longer.

"I couldn't sleep, and I just... I wanted to see... I don't know, I just wanted to spend time with you really." You laugh, admitting the real reason you came to him this late at night.

"Do you uh, want to come back in my room? God, that sounds like I'm just trying to fuck you. I meant if you want to like, spend the night here you can. That doesn't sound any better, just ask." He groans, making you let out another laugh at how adorable he is.

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" You ask, making eye contact with Lachlan, a smile on both of your faces from being in the presence of one another.

"You're so much better at wording things than me. Yeah, of course you can stay here." He says, moving out of the way so you can walk into the room. "I uh, I was just um... Checking out that show you were talking about with Jerome earlier... Supernatural, I was about to start it on Netflix." He says awkwardly, shutting the door behind you and walking over to the bed.

"Really? You think it's something you'll like?" You ask, not wanting to invite yourself into his bed so you're standing by the door still.

"You can come join me in the bed, it's pretty cold with the A.C on in here." He laughs, pulling the covers back and patting the spot next to him for you. Once you climb into the spot, he pulls the blanket up to shelter you from the air conditioning. "I actually was just going to watch it so you and I would have more things to talk about, I haven't even started it yet I was just getting background knowledge from wiki." He laughs, admitting this to you.

"Lachy, I want to talk to you regardless on whether or not you know Supernatural trivia. Though I'm offended you turned to wiki, especially if you're considering watching the show. Don't spoil it for yourself, Supernatural is a commitment you either fully devote yourself to or don't at all." You say, scolding him for his plan of action.

"I just... You get so worked up over things you care about, like this tv show and I just, I feel my heart just somersaulting because oh my god when you care about something you really fucking care, and I can't help but to want you to care about me like that." He admits, making you blush this time around.

"I think that's definitely a possibility with the way we are heading right now." You hum out, reaching for his hand in the mass of blankets, squeezing it before continuing, "Honestly, it sounds pathetic but before this week I was so excited to meet you because it seemed like we both liked each other, and then we met and we really just click so fucking well and then we went on our first date and now, now I'm just excited to see what comes of this." You say, looking at Lachlan with the light from his laptop lighting up his face.

"Can I kiss you, and maybe be able to call you my girlfriend but like feel free to say no to either of those." Lachlan says really fast, making you take a second to comprehend before you laugh, not answering as you lean forward to connect your lips to his. "Alright that answers the first question, but uh, what about the other?" He asks, backing out of the kiss.

"Of course I'll happily be your girlfriend Lachlan, but only if you can handle the title of being my boyfriend." You say, a glint in your eyes as he smiles at you, connecting your lips once again.

"I think that's a role I might be able to give a try." He says pulling away. "I was really nervous to do that, before Mitch even set us up on that date two nights ago at McDonalds, I knew this was going to be the time I ask you out and I was really scared of your answer." Lachlan says, laying back in the bed with his laptop now placed on the floor. He has his arm out in a silent offer for you to lay on it, which you slowly take him up on because you're worried you're misinterpreting for a second until you see him looking at you expectantly.

"Why were you scared of my answer?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I don't know, just nervous you'd say no I guess." He chuckles, making your heart start beating faster. Did he really think you didn't want him in the same way he wanted you?

"Why would I ever say no to a hot stud of an Australian like yourself?" You ask, trying to understand his thinking.

"I just didn't know what was going on between you and Preston, that's all... I know he's been trying to pursue you too." Lachlan says.

"There's nothing really going on between Preston and I, there hasn't been anything at least from my end. I don't really do the whole talking to multiple guys thing, like I'd be fine having a friendship with him but I knew I was more interested in you than him right from the start. He's nice and all, he really is, but something just clicked with you that didn't with him." You say, trying to ease any nerves Lachlan had on Preston. Both Preston and Lachlan began talking to you at the same time and as both are nice, attractive men you didn't really know what to do at first. That was until Preston began coming on a bit too strong, making your conversations with Lachlan seem more meaningful than a bunch of 'your insta pic looks hot' texts you were receiving from Preston.

"That's good to hear. If it means anything, I haven't been talking to any other girls besides you." Lachlan tells you.

"Happy to hear it." You smile at him in the dark, realizing he can't see it so you place a kiss to his neck.

"Are you getting tired?" He asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"A bit." You murmur, eyelids feeling heavy.

"Then goodnight, (Y/N)." Lachlan says, hesitating before placing a kiss on your forehead.

~~~~In the morning.~~~~

"Do we wake them up?" A whisper says, sounding like it's close but not in your line of sight when you open your eyes.

"No, we don't wake them up! Look at them, they're cuddled together in bed. Who are we to ruin their moment? He flies back soon, let them enjoy each other. I'm happy I was right about them." Another voice sounds, this one being the obvious voice of your best friend Mitch.

"They're actually adorable..." The first whisper sighs, sounding like Jerome as you hear it again.

"Guys, I think she's still asleep. Could you gush about my girlfriend and I somewhere else?" Lachlan sighs out quietly, trying not to disturb you.

"Your girlfriend!?" Both Jerome and Mitch say in unison, not trying to conceal their voices. You laugh as you sit up, wanting to see the jaw-dropped reactions of your friends.

"What's so surprising about that?" You laugh, taking in the way Mitch and Jerome are looking at you two.

"I just didn't think Lachlan would actually ask this week, I thought he'd pussy out and we'd be stuck waiting for to official statement on you two until the next time he came out here." Jerome says, taking a step into the room. "Wait... Lachlan's shirtless? You two didn't, y'know..." Jerome adds, trailing off making you laugh.

"What? God, no we didn't have sex! I sleep shirtless, okay? Goddamn, I just got the nerve to ask her out last night." Lachlan says, immediately shutting down the idea.

"I'm fully clothed, no worries." You add, untangling yourself from Lachlan to get out of the bed. "Last night was probably the best nights sleep I've gotten in awhile, though." You say, ignoring Mitch and Jerome as you look at Lachlan, who smiles back at you.

"I agree, definitely best nights sleep." He hums in agreement, sitting up in the bed. "Alright, could you two bozos leave please?" He asks, referring to Jerome and Mitch that are still standing near the door.

"Fine, we'll give you two lovebirds some privacy... Just don't fuck around here." Mitch laughs, walking out the door with Jerome behind him.

"Well uh, want to spend tonight in my room? The door locks." You say, making Lachlan laugh.

#lachlan #lachlan power #lachlanpower #lachlanyt #lachlan x reader #lachlanxreader

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mf-despair-queen · 7 years

Text

Never Let It Get Personal - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 16,419

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering, Bondage, Oral (both receiving in the form of a 69), Sweet Sex because I’m a sucker for their romance???, Sassy reader, violence and blood because they are assassins.

Notes: Why do I do this to myself? 16.4k later and it’s done. But I really liked this idea. It’s a lot of plot with a smidge of sexy smut because I love Mitch Rapp. But he’s also hella loving. And angry. And I owe @minhosmeanhoe a lot for talking through this idea with me. She is a saint and my Rapp twin. I love her. I hope you guys love this and think it’s worth it.

Heartbreak | Noun | heart·break: crushing grief, anguish, or distress.

Mitch sighed to himself, running a hand through his unruly hair. Hadn’t he been through enough torment in his short lifetime? Only twenty-two years old, and he already lost everyone he was ever close to. It was rare for him to reminisce about those he had lost, but sometimes, late at night, the thoughts creep in to torment his already damaged mental state.

He laid on his cot in the Barn, his eyes drifting to the time in the upper corner of his phone, reading the white numbers. 1:34 AM. Mitch groaned quietly, shuffling under the blankets, peeking around to make sure no one else was awake. The others slept soundly, getting as much sleep as they could for their early, four AM wake-up call.

Mitch rolled over on the cot, resuming what he had been doing for the last hour. Going through old pictures on his phone, watching videos at a low volume of things that used to make him happy. He sighed to himself, closing his whiskey orbs, letting the memories pass over the backs of his eyelids.

He thought back to happier times, remembering the fun times he had as a child with his parents. Birthdays with them, vacations with them, just general good times. Until he got the call into the office one day at school, the principal having a sullen look on his face when he told the news to the young boy. He was only fourteen when he lost his parents.

His life should have fallen apart from that moment, instantly shipped between different boarding schools because of his “increased behavioral issues.” The only thing that made anything bearable in his shithole of a life was one person. His best friend, the girl who never left his side, no matter how shitty things were or how much of an asshole he became.

You were always by his side.

He knew you, literally, since birth. Everyone used to joke that you were inseparable, even in the womb. You went through thick and thin together. He could easily say you were the one to singlehandedly hold his heart together after the accident, encouraging him through everything, pushing him to stay strong. You were the only reason he took his full-ride scholarship to Syracuse for lacrosse, and it was only because you were going for a track scholarship and agreed to room with him. He knew he could count on you.

He knew you were different, and you held a special place in his heart. You were his best friend. Hell, he wouldn’t argue that you were his first love. You were his first… everything. First friend, first kiss, first roommate out of high school, and even his first of many times. He was afraid to go further with you, but even more afraid of losing you when he started seeing Katrina.

Katrina never was quite the same. As amazing as she was, she wasn’t exactly… well, you. He loved Katrina will all his heart, but he loved you more. However, he was resigned that he had no future romantically with you, afraid of the rejection you would bestow on him. So, he put everything into his relationship with Katrina. Even then, you were there for him, his heart aching, yearning for you to stop him.

He asked you for your blessing the day he was set to leave for Spain, holding his mother’s ring up in front of you, the silver glinting in the sunlight streaming through the blinds. He prayed that you would tell him no, to tell him that you wanted to be with him. But you just smiled, kissing his cheek, giving him a thumbs up before shooing him out the door so he wouldn’t miss his flight. He sighed to himself, wanting to clear his mind of the thoughts of you and thinking of his future he was bound to have with Katrina.

You were by the side the entire time he was in the hospital when he returned, Katrina-less. He was heartbroken from his loss, but you still held his heart together, keeping him strong as he recovered. He kept you out of the loop as he began to plot his revenge, wanting to avenge the hundreds of people, including his fiancé of twenty minutes, that were gunned down mercilessly. He saw the way you looked at him in worry, but he always assured you that he was alright.

He had one regret in his life, and that was the argument he had right before you left on an overseas school trip to Rome roughly six months after he lost Katrina. It was a silly argument because he had gotten drunk one night after returning from his usual gym and gun range runs. You didn’t like seeing that side of him, but he yelled at you, claiming that you didn’t know what he was feeling. He knew he was in the wrong when he awoke the next day, but he never got to apologize.

The tour you were on just outside the city was attacked by some terrorists, killing everyone on the bus. It was reported that no one survived. With that news, his heart completely shattered into a million pieces. He had lost his fiancé. He had lost the girl he loved more than anything without telling her his true feelings or apologizing. He had nothing left to hold him together. His heart hardened into cold stone, his sole focus on eliminating all threats from the world.

Mitch blinked back a few tears, surprising himself that he was even tearful right now. He hadn’t cried in over a year, not since he found out that you were gone. He scrolled through various pictures on his phone in the midst of the darkness of the Barn, bypassing ones of him and Katrina to find your smiling face. He finally clicked on a short video, making sure the volume was low enough that he could still hear it without waking anyone.

You were holding his phone, walking through your tiny apartment, playing with your hair. “Mitch left his phone in the bedroom,” you whispered, probably not wanting to draw his attention. He could see himself in the background on the couch, reading through a book, attempting to learn Arabic. “He’s been so busy with this Arabic class I guess, but he needs a little distraction.”

The video jostled in your hand as you shuffled over to him, yanking the book out of his hand and dropping onto his lap, his face coming into view next to yours. He rolled his eyes, letting out a small groan. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

You smiled into the camera, leaning against him. “You’ve been really distracted as of late, so I figured I would get one small laugh out of you. Plus, you can never have enough memories of us together, Mitchy. That way, when you are a big businessman, you remember your best friend for life.” Mitch cracked a small smile, shaking his head. “There’s a smile. That’s all I needed.”

“You’re a dork, babe,” he said.

“I know, but you love me,” you replied. Your hand reached up to play with the scruffy beard he was developing, glancing away from the camera at him. “You also need to shave. You’re more handsome with a trimmed beard. Just a bit of scruff to leave beard burn on a girl’s thighs, but not too long to look like Santa.”

“Duly noted,” Mitch joked, looking away when you placed a kiss to his cheek.

That’s where the video ended. He looked longingly at the image of your lips on his cheek, his heart jumping inside him. If only things were different.

“Mitch, shut off your phone and get to sleep. We have to be up and running in two hours,” someone called out from across the room. Mitch sighed, closing his photo gallery. His stared at his wallpaper, a picture of you both at the beach a year before he met Katrina. Hs arms were around your bare waist, placing a kiss to your cheek, your eyes closed and hands holding his. It was the night he took your virginity, and you took his. It held a special place in his heart.

He finally locked his phone, setting it aside and closing his eyes, attempting to get some sleep. Though sleep never came. Mitch was forced out of bed at his normal time, running around Hurley’s property with the others, doing his daily routines of strenuous exercise, gun practice and fight practice.

His day was thrown for a loop when he was told to visit Hurley. He was relieved of his duties, heading back to the barn to change into a fresh pair of jeans and tight black shirt, keeping his beat up black shoes paired with his new clothes. He jogged from the Barn, around to the steps to Hurley’s large forest home, bounding up the stairs two at a time. He rushed through the halls into Hurley’s office, knocking on the door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Mitch asked, Stan turning to face him. The older man motioned for Mitch to sit, Mitch stiffly sitting in the chair across the table from him. A laptop was open on the table, Stan typing a few things on the keyboard. “You’re not showing me more videos of Katrina, are you? I’m not in the mood for that shit again.”

“I’m not,” Stan’s gruff voice came. He sat in a chair, staring with a stern look at the chocolate-haired male across from him. Stan rubbed his face in annoyance, groaning softly. “You know, a lot of the guys have brought up that you’ve been up at night a lot lately. They see you on your phone at odd hours. Reminiscing of the past, Rapp?”

Mitch swallowed dryly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he did. “No, sir,” Mitch replied quietly. “I just can’t sleep, so I’ve been on my phone till I can relax. Nothing about the past involved.”

Stan chuckled, obviously not convinced. “Right. Then, what about the pictures?”

“Pictures, sir?”

“Of Katrina. Pretty girl you had, Mitch. But you already knew that. That’s why you proposed.” Stan paused, sizing up Mitch’s reaction. “Or, what about Y/N? The best friend you grew up with?”

The computer was spun around, a video from Mitch’s phone playing. You were clad in just one of his button up shirts and some underwear, standing over the stove as you made breakfast. You didn’t know he was recording as he sat at the table, chuckling to himself. After a minute, you turned to him, blushing at the sight of the phone he was holding.

“Mitch, are you recording me?” Your perky voice came, Mitch fully laughing from behind it.

“But of course. You just look so cute when you are making breakfast like this. Do I want to know why you are wearing my shirt though?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove. “All of my clothes are in the washer and I spilled beer on my clothes last night. This was the first shirt I could grab from your room.”

“Well, you should wear my stuff more often,” he joked. “You look amazing in them.”

You laughed, tossing a blueberry his way. He remembers catching it in his mouth, a smile breaking out on your face. “Stop being a cheeseball and set the table.”

Mitch growled as the video ended, jumping up in his seat. “This isn’t fucking funny anymore! Why do you keep rubbing these things in my face?”

Stan glared at the man, shutting the laptop. “Because you need to get over it, Rapp. You’re still weak. You want to become one of us? Grow the fuck up,” he grumbled deeply.

Mitch jumped onto the table, throwing a wild punch at Hurley who stepped back, grabbing the computer wire and wrapping it around his neck. Mitch was pulled from the table onto the floor, Stan holding the wire tightly around his neck. Mitch attempted to lessen the weight on his neck, gasping for air.

“I told you to never let it get personal. And what are you doing? Letting it get personal!” He screamed, finally letting Mitch go. The trainee rolled onto his side, coughing and heaving for precious oxygen. Stan knelt down, facing him with a hard stare. “You will get yourself killed if you let your personal feelings get in the way of a mission. Do I make myself clear?”

Mitch stayed silent for a second before finally looking up at him, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, now get packed. We are scheduled for the next flight to Istanbul. There is supposed to be an arms dealing involving a trigger for a nuclear bomb someone is building. We are to intercept the deal to prevent the production o this bomb. You are coming to cover my ass,” Stan muttered, Mitch vacating the room without as much as a rebuttal to his boss.

Betrayal | noun | be·tray·al: the action of betraying one’s country, a group, or a person; treachery.

The short, brown-haired man waltzed into the dark room, tugging the beanie atop his head off and scratching at the beard he had trimmed that morning. He watched the body in the room squirm under the blankets, groaning to himself. With a quick yank of the curtains, sunlight streamed through the windows. The bright light filled the large room, the man’s green eyes landing on the mound of blankets on the bed.

“Get the fuck up, Y/N. I didn’t bring you here to let you sleep the day away,” he said bitterly, tugging the blankets down with one hand. Your head poked from the confines of the soft fabric, glaring at him.

“You brought me here because you’re a douchebag and can’t let a girl get her beauty rest. Just because you saved me in Rome and trained me to protect myself doesn’t mean I need to wake up at odd hours to help you with your stupid antique trading,” you retorted, pushing the blankets off regardless.

“I should have let you die with the others then,” he mumbled, sitting in a plush chair in the corner of the hotel.

“You wouldn’t do that, though. I’m too important because I’m fucking amazing at my job, Ghost,” You told him, glancing at him through the mirror. Ghost rolled his eyes, slouching in the chair. “I thought you’d see it my way. You need me to finish this bomb.”

You walked into the bathroom before Ghost could reply, stripping off your clothes and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. You thought back to that day, remembering the gun held to your forehead, shallow cuts from different knives lining every part of your skin. You were the last one alive of everyone on the school tour because the terrorists that attacked the bus got a different response from you. You were resilient, whereas everyone else jumped to try and save themselves, ending in a quick demise.

The man holding the gun to your head spoke quietly to the others, your ears unable to discern what language he was muttering in. His finger itched on the trigger, your eyes closing with resolve that you would no longer see the light of this world. You would never finish school, have a family or kids, or even tell Mitch you were sorry for everything.

When the shot rang out, you felt no pain. Your eyes cracked open slowly to see the men around you glancing around frantically, one by one dropping dead with bullet holes in their foreheads every time another shot went off. By the time the last one fell, you attempted to clamber to your feet, your hands tied behind your back. A man emerged from the dark underbrush, a rifle strapped to his back and a mysterious glint in his eyes.

“I saw the way you fought back,” he had told you as he untied your hands. “You know, the American Embassy was notified of the attack and they did nothing. They left you to die. How does that make you feel?”

“Angry,” you remember came your short reply. Ghost had smirked at you, his hand on your cheek.

“Good. Let’s channel that anger so you can show them that you aren’t to be forgotten. Do you want to be strong, girly?”

You didn’t deny him. You were mad that your home did nothing to stop these people from killing harmless civilians. You weren’t going to let that go. They were going to let your life go like it didn’t matter. So, if this man in front of you could teach you the ways to sow them it wasn’t something to fuck with, you would give him your everything.

“Hurry up! We are meeting Sharif soon for the trigger. You can pretty yourself up later,” Ghost said through the door, his fist heavily pounding on the polished wood. You sighed, gathering fresh clothes from the cabinet in the bathroom, primping yourself to look somewhat decent.

You were rushed from the hotel, Ghost close on your tail. He told you the plan on the car ride over to the restaurant. You were going to help keep an eye out while Ghost got the trigger from Sharif. He handed you a pair of knives, saying that guns would be too obvious. As soon as you had arrived, you hid your knives in the back pockets of your jeans, perching at a table near the edge of the restaurant.

It was quiet, Ghost approaching Sharif at the bar. You scanned the crowd of people, spotting a large, burly man shuffling towards the bar. “Man approaching, six o’clock. Most likely armed. He has a hand under the back of his jacket. Tap the bar if you got that,” you mumbled into the radio attached to the collar of your jacket.

Ghost tapped his fingers once, pocketing the device and turning on his heel, keeping his head down. He was walking directly by the burly man, unsheathing a knife from the apron he was wearing as a disguise. One slip of the knife into the gut of the man, and he was brought down, Ghost pilfering the Beretta from the man’s waistband. Removing the silencer, Ghost glanced around, looking for a sign of back up for the dead man.

“Something’s wrong,” you heard someone mumble not far from where you were sitting. Ghost must have heard it too, his gaze shifting in your direction. You glanced around, spotting a body standing from their chair a few tables away. Your eyes narrowed at the dark-haired man, breath hitching slightly in your throat.

“Mitch?” You said louder than you meant. His eyes shot to you, the whiskey colored orbs widening when they locked with yours. “No way…”

“Y/N? He questioned quietly, taking a few small steps in your general direction.

Ghost must have noticed what was happening, shooting off the gun that he acquired from the dead man behind him. A few quick pops of the Beretta and the crowd was sent into a frenzy. You remained frozen in your spot, Mitch dropping to the ground as Ghost fired a few rounds at him. You saw the gun in Mitch’s hand, his eyes trying to make sense of the fleeing people.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you from the restaurant and down an alley out of sight. Your back was slammed into the wall, Ghost’s furious look evident in front of you. “What the fuck was that?” he sneered, his eyes flaring in his rage.

“I-I don’t know what happened. I thought… I thought I knew him. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” you mumbled. You were still rattled, and fearing Ghost would realize that you had lied to him. You didn’t think you knew him.

That was Mitch fucking Rapp in that restaurant. Holding a fucking gun, targeting your boss.

What the hell did you miss?

Ghost pushed himself away from you, huffing. “You better not let it happen again, or I will kill you. Sneak back to the hotel and pack up. We are headed back to Rome to get our scientist to finish the bomb. And keep your eyes peeled. The CIA is running around. Because that man you say you thought you knew is Stan Hurley’s pupil. The new me.”

Ghost walked away quickly, leaving you alone in the abandoned alleyway. You slunk to the ground, running your hand through your hair. “Fuck. Why is Mitch here?”

Hostage | noun | hos·tage: a person seized or held as security for the fulfillment of a condition.

It felt good to be back in Rome. The sun was setting over the beautiful city, lights flickering on as you made your way through the winding roads. You were meeting up with Ghost at the designated hotel the nuclear physicist he hired was staying at. You were warned to be apprehensive, Ghost more than sure that Stan Hurley, his former teacher, would be around.

And that just meant Mitch was not far behind.

Sighing, you bounded into the hotel, tugging you jacket closer to your body, trying not to arouse suspicion to yourself. You slipped through a small gap in the closing elevator, repeatedly tapping the floor you needed. You wanted in an out of this hotel before Mitch showed up because you weren’t sure how you would handle seeing his face for the second time.

The door was ajar when you arrived, closing it quietly behind you upon entering. Your slid the leather jacket off your shoulders, hanging it on the rack by the door, letting your feet carry you further inside. Ghost stood against the wall, eyeing you as your fully entered the room.

“We have a little pest in the room next door,” he mumbled, nodding towards the wall. Your eyebrow rose, not knowing what he meant. He shifted towards the wall he pointed out, crouching down to take a closer look. It was hard to see, but Ghost had trained you well to spot subtle things like this.

A small camera had been fed through the air conditioning unit on the wall, just enough that whoever was on the other side could get a perfect picture inside the room.

“Hurley?” You asked after turning back to Ghost, seeing him shake his head.

“His pupil. Some punk named Mitch Rapp?” He said calmly, picking up a file from the bed. “He has someone with him, but I think it’s someone they assigned to work with them when they showed up in Istanbul.”

“Is that so?” You asked his quietly, stepping back from the camera in the wall.

“Yup,” he said, emphasizing the p. His eyes roamed the open file, an evil smile on his face. “Did you know he went to Syracuse the same time you did? Parents were killed when he was in his early teens. Fiancé was killed in Spain a year and a half ago. Poor kid.”

Your eyes hardened, trying to keep your heartbeat steady. One wrong move and Ghost would figure everything out. “He went to Syracuse? What a coincidence. Must be a lucky school to have bred two cold blooded killers.”

Ghost stood from the bed, walking over to you. “Just a coincidence? Then explain the pictures of you two together,” he bluntly said, holding up a picture of you on his back after one of his Lacrosse games. Your throat instantly went dry, staring up at the brunette.

“I-I can explain, Ghost,” you started trying to say, Ghost shoving you roughly into the wall, his hand on your throat. Your nails clawed at his tight grip, but to no avail. It only seemed to get tighter, cutting off your flow of oxygen.

“You lied to me back in Istanbul. You won’t be lying to me again. Are you with me or against me, Y/N? Because if you are against me and want to crawl back to that pathetic creature in the other room, I will gladly kill you both with my bare hands,” he snapped, his glare harsh.

“I’m… with you,” you managed to straggle out, gasping for air. Ghost nodded once, releasing his hold on you. Your ass hit the ground hard, your hand flying up to your neck as your coughed, wheezing slightly.

“Good. My men are already apprehending him and his little partner next door. I am going to ask your friend rather politely to tell me where Stan is. As soon as I find that out you will kill him.”

Your eyes widened, looking up at the man who saved your life in the past. You stumbled to your feet, leaning against the wall for support. “What? I can’t kill, Mitch! He’s my… I mean he was my…”

Ghost’s hand appeared aside your head, fiercely looking down at you. “Do you have a problem with killing him? He left you for dead, Y/N. He never came looking for you. He’s just like everyone else. They use you until you are no longer useful then dump you like last week’s leftovers.”

Your gaze hardened, shuffling slightly as you spoke up. “Ghost, I have killed fifty-three men for you covertly since you started training me.” You pulled your un from your waistband, glancing at the man looking haphazardly out the window holding a rifle. Aiming without a second glance, one quiet pop later, a bullet was embedded into the man’s skull, smoke seeping from the silencer attached to the barrel of the gun. “Actually, make that fifty-four. I’ve eliminated threats and men that have come so close to exposing you. Would me killing Mitch Rapp make big difference?”

“Yes,” he spoke quietly, stepping away from your body. “Because killing Mitch fucking Rapp will show your complete allegiance. And show that you are 100% over him. That you are no longer in love with him and won’t let him tie you down.”

Ghost walked away, leaving you alone. In love with Mitch Rapp. Did you still love him? Of course you did. Did you want to return home with him? Of course you did. Did you ever act on these feelings? Of course you didn’t. You were too afraid then, and you were too afraid now. Especially now. Things would never be the same.

You shook your head, your body trembling with fear. There was no possibly way that you could bring yourself to shoot Mitch. He was, and always will be, your best friend, even after everything that had happened. But you couldn’t let that show now.

The door swung open, multiple footsteps sounding in the living room area of the suite behind you. Two thumps were heard, Ghost’s other disciples yelling for Mitch and whoever he was working with to put their hands behind their heads. You placed your gun back in your waistband, slowly heading for the doorway.

You leaned on the frame, taking in his looks now that you had a better chance to look. His shirt rode up slightly from his position on the floor, his familiar happy trail peeking out of the black fabric. Veins protruded from his arms more than you remembered, but hell, you weren’t arguing. It was one of his best features. Your eyes locked on his dark, whiskey brown orbs, looking away when you realized you had been staring and catching his gaze. His look had been hard, but something sparkled behind it. He was trying to keep from acting rashly. Stan had warned him multiple times on the way to Rome not to let his emotions get out of hand.

“You’re sure it was her,” he had asked Mitch multiple times. “Then, you remember what I told you about not letting it get personal? Now this is the time to remember that. You let it get personal, you let your emotions out, you let your endless love for this girl get the best of you and you will find yourself in a casket buried 5 feet under. Because I will not bail you out.”

Ghost walked in front of the two for a second, leaning down to look at Mitch. “Tell me, Rapp. Where is dear old Stan Hurley? He’s got to be near. He wouldn’t let his pup out of his sight.” He stared into Mitch’s dark eyes, speaking calmly once more. “Hurley, Rapp. Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking-“ Mitch started, getting cut off by a slap in the face. His head turned to the side, letting out an almost inaudible grunt from the impact. Your eyes clenched shut unconsciously, taking a deep breathe to keep from saying anything out of line.

He turned the Mitch’s companion, a young girl with fair skin and dark hair. “How about you, sweetheart. Where is he?” When neither answered, Ghost began to get furious, yelling loudly, “Tell me where Stan Hurley is!”

“Ghost, calm down. Yelling won’t make them talk,” you told him, finally looking up. Mitch’s eyes shot to you, fighting to keep a frown from appearing on his lips.

“Well do you have any better ideas?” Ghost sneered. Your shrugged, walking closer to the group.

You stood in front of the two hostages, eyeing the girl carefully. “I don’t think she will help. She doesn’t care about Stan. She has her own agenda.” You got close to her face, smirking at her. “What’s you deal, princess? What’s in it for you to help stop us?”

“Y/N,” Mitch mumbled, catching your attention.

“What, Mitch? Why are you even here? You didn’t care back then. Why care now?” You snapped, moving to face him.

“I’ve always cared,” he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes locked, your false confidence dropping slightly. “Just tell him what he wants to know. Please. I can’t protect you if you don’t tell him. Where is Stan, Mitch?”

Mitch kept his mouth shut, hearing you sigh in response. You backed away, sitting on the couch, sighing. Ghost groaned nearing the two again, stopping short when the door was kicked in. The older man waltzed inside, gun in hand, shooting a few of the men you worked with, their bodies falling limp on the tiled floor.

Your mouth fell open, watching Mitch and the girl beginning to attack the people behind them, fighting off the men in the room. You glanced at Ghost, nodding him towards the window. “Go!” you yelled at him, pulling out your gun. “I will be right behind you.”

Ghost nodded, locking eyes with whom you presumed to be Stan Hurley before jumping out the window, using the flag on the pole outside to slide down to safety. You turned back to the scene in the room, coming face to face with the girl Mitch was with.

Your eyes widened, raising the gun to shoot at her, her hand shooting up to knock it away on instinct. The gun flew from your hand onto the floor, the girl yelling at Mitch. “Rapp! Gun!” She turned back to you, holding your wrist tightly. “Aw, not so tough now, are you, girly? All talk I guess. You know, I never got why Mitch talked so highly of you. He told me a lot about you and him while we were alone in that hotel room together. Something you won’t ever get with him I guess. He probably doesn’t love you that much anymore since you are so easily replaceable,” she said lowly, a smirk present on her face.

You growled at her. “What the hell do you know? There’s no way he would go for you anyway.”

“How would you even know that?” She glared at you.

“Oh, you’ll see, sweetheart,” you whispered, twisting your arm to break free of her grasp. Her eyes widened, your arms wrapping around her waist to tackle her to the ground. You wrestled with the girl on the ground, blood seeping into your clothes and skin from the dead bodies around you. You were too focused on clawing at the unknown girl, not hearing the gunshots from Mitch shooting the last few men or his footsteps as him and Stan rushed over, pulling you both apart.

You were only seeing red until his voice cleared the air. “Y/N! Stop! Calm down!” Your body relaxed in his arms, listening to him whisper things in your ear to calm you. “That’s right. Relax.” You went limp in his arms, allowing him to tie your hands behind your back and place you on the couch. His hand was on your cheek, wiping some of the blood away from your skin, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

Stan cleared his throat, motioning for Mitch. The man in front of you sighed, glancing at you quickly before moving away. The girl stopped him, her hand on his muscular bicep, rubbing it softly. “Are you alright, Mitch? Anything I can do to help?” She said, obviously trying to rile you up with her bad flirting. Mitch didn’t take it though, shrugging off her hand. His gaze turned back to you, his eyes showing emotions he didn’t have when he was looking at her.

“Just go pack everything up from our room, Annika. We will be moving out here soon and can’t waste any more time. We’ve wasted enough time because you decided to cat fight with my girl… with Y/N,” he stated bluntly, disappearing out the door with Stan. Annika’s face fell, watching after him.

You let out a small laugh, her eyes focusing on you. “This is what I meant, bitch,” you mumbled. “Even after all this time, he still cares about me. You are just temporary. You don’t know him the way you think you do.”

“Oh, and you still know him after being gone so long?” She snapped, crossing her arms.

“I’ve known the man the entire life, lady. Assassin for the CIA or not, he’s still the same Mitch I know and love,” you told her calmly. “Besides, he’s been deeper inside me than he ever will be with you. You know why? Because you’re just a shallow bitch that doesn’t understand what is really going on. You don’t care to know Mitch. You might act like you know him or care about him, wanting to be with him, but you don’t. You have your own agenda.” You paused, looking over at her. “You know, if you’re this shallow, I’m sure you pussy is too. It’s no place for a cock like his, not like he will ever fuck you like he has me,” you sassed at her, her mouth falling open at the constant wave of insults.

She glared, taking a few steps towards you. “You little bitch,” she started, getting cut off when Stan and Mitch walked back in. The room fell silent, Stan roughly dragging you outside. You were thrown into the back of a black car, unable to see where you were being taken. Your mind reeled, trying to figure out what was going to happen. Were they going to interrogate you? Were they going to kill you? Were you going to go home with Mitch?

Would you be able to apologize to him before anything happened?

The car came to a halt, Mitch and Stan shuffling from the vehicle. You heard their muffled talking, carefully using your foot to crack the car door to hear them clearly.

“They’ve outsmarted us twice now, sir. Who is he? Why’s this guy after you? Something personal, sir?” You hear Mitch sneering at Stan.

“What about you, Rapp? Your little girlfriend in the back seat. I told you not to let it get personal, yet you’re up close and personal with her in the hotel after tying her up? I should kill her right now.”

Your heart stopped, fearing the worst. You were going to die here. You weren’t going to get to talk to Mitch again. You weren’t going to see the morning light through your window again. You weren’t going to have a family one day. Your life was over.

“No,” Mitch said quickly.

“No?”

“We shouldn’t kill her.” Your face flushed, body warming at his words. He was sticking up for you? “If she’s this guy’s right hand woman, she should know what he’s planning and where he’s building the bomb, right? We can get information out of her.”

That rat was trying to sell you out, wanting to interrogate you? Your heart cracked, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“We don’t have time for that. We have Ghost’s physicist in the trunk that I have to question too. Annika already left to inform Irene of our location and what has been happening. The CIA should be here tomorrow where your little girly will be escorted back to the States to be tried for treason,” Stan replied.

“Let me question her then.” It got silent, and you assumed, Stan was giving Mitch a harsh, stern look. “I can do it, sir! We need to stop Ghost before something happens! Trust me.”

“Fine. You have till the morning. Whatever you find out, report immediately. Get her inside,” Stan murmured.

“Of course, sir,” came Mitch’s short reply before the door was tugged open. You glanced up, seeing Mitch looking down at you with a hard look. He tugged you out by the ankles, throwing your limp body over his shoulder.

“Woah,” you squealed, Mitch grabbing his bag from the floor and heading inside the hotel you had apparently arrived at. “You know, Mitchy. As much as I love this reunion, I didn’t picture it being me staring at your ass. Though your ass looks great in these jeans,” you told him cheekily. You got no response, your slight smile falling. “Take a joke, Rapp. Why so serious?”

No response again. Mitch just kicked open a hotel room door, the door swinging shut behind you. You were thrown onto the bed, bouncing slightly on the springy mattress. You rolled over, struggling to sit up, watching Mitch tug the torn black shirt over his head, wincing slightly. He had a few cuts on his chest and ribs, a particularly deep one on his side. You spied the scar above his right pec from Spain, memorizing the hardened muscles he developed over the past year.

“You’re hurt,” you stated blatantly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped, grabbing a first aid kit from his bag. He fumbled with a gauze and medical tap, cleaning the major wound he had with an alcohol swab.

“Well, untie me and I can help dress it,” you told him.

“Hell no. I don’t trust you,” he mumbled. Your insides stung, feeling your heart drop into the acid of your stomach.

“Why are you being such a dick, Mitch? I thought you were my best friend!” You yelled at him, scooting to the edge of the bed so you could get up. Walking over to him, you stared up at him, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “What happened to the sweet you before we left the other hotel? What happened to the man I’ve known forever? Why did he suddenly become a cunt?”

He slammed the medical supplies down, turning to face you with a hard look. “What happened to the girl I know? She turned into a cold-blooded killer! She became a wanted criminal! She became a jealous bitch that apparently has to taunt others with the fact that we’ve slept together.”

Your face fell, looking down at the ground. “You heard that…”

“Yeah, I heard that. Didn’t know I was a piece of meat for you,” he snapped, stepping closer to you. Each step he took, you took a step back, your back finally colliding with a wall. “Here’s the deal. I will untie you long enough for you to help patch up this wound. Then, you tell me everything you know about Ghost’s plans and where he is hiding. If you cooperate, they will hopefully lessen your sentence.”

You didn’t reply, nodding once, Mitch reaching around to untie you. You grabbed the gauze from the table, motioning him to sit down. It didn’t take long to patch up the wound, Mitch relishing in the feeling of your soft fingers on his stomach. He knew he had to stay strong, not letting his feelings for you affect getting you to talk.

You sat back on the bed, facing Mitch, your eyes locking together briefly. “Alright. Spill everything you know. What is Ghost planning. Where is he building this bomb?”

You glanced down, mumbling lowly after a few moments, “I won’t tell you.”

“What?” Mitch said, standing up. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It won’t change anything, no matter what you think. I’ve killed people, Mitch. I’m not the same person you knew. Nothing will change what happened and how I feel,” you told him. He stared at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, explain this then. Why did you start working with him?” Mitch asked.

“Why did you started training profusely after Katrina died? Why did you join the CIA?” You snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as you did. “When bad things happen and only you can change things, you find whatever means possible to achieve them. You want revenge? You work to get it. And that’s what we both wanted. I was left for dead, Mitch. No one came for me. Not even you.”

“Y/N,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know. I was told you were gone. Just… you need to tell me everything you know. I know you’ve been hurt, but it doesn’t need to be like this. If you say nothing, you are going to die.”

“There is no changing anything, Mitch!” You finally snapped. You got off the bed, approaching him. “You don’t get it. I’m as good as dead no matter what! I go home, I die! I go back to Ghost, I die! So, fuck you, Mitch. You didn’t bother to come for me when I needed you most, so I’m not going to bother to help you when you need it most.”

Mitch was obviously growing frustrated, grabbing you by the arms and slamming you into the closest wall. “Just fucking tell me, Y/N! I’m trying to save your life, so stop being a stupid ass bitch and tell me something useful!”

“I’m not telling you a god damn thing,” you scoffed at him. “You say you’re trying to save me, but you’re doing this for yourself. You’ve only ever cared about yourself! So, fuck off. I’m not telling you a single fucking thing.”

“Fuck! Why are you being so fucking stubborn?” He asked to no one in particular. “You’re going to fucking tell me, Y/N, whether you like it or not. Where is Ghost?” His hand landed on the wall beside your head, his eyes hardening, narrowing at yours. When you gave no reply, he slammed the wall roughly, creaming loudly. “Tell me!”

“No,” you said shortly.

Mitch growled deeply, your body twinging with arousal at the noise. It was a noise you had never heard from the handsome man, but it was perfect in your ears. You glanced at the arm beside your head, staring at his tense biceps, veins producing down his forearms to his hands. His pecs flexed as the growl escaped his throat, your body unwillingly growing warm.

This was not the time to be turned on.

Mitch grabbed the front of the tight blue shirt stained with blood you were wearing, lifting you off your feet. “Hey!” you screamed at him, feet flailing around for some form of footing. You silently cursed being shorter than him in this time. “Let me down, Mitch! What are you doing?”

“Just tell me where he is, Y/N!” He yelled back.

“No!” You yelped, finally landing a kick on his shin. He inadvertently dropped you, your body scrambling on the floor for the door. Mitch groaned in pain, ignoring it to tackle you, your bodies wrestling on the floor for dominance. Every chance you got, you made a move for the door, Mitch able to stop you before you got too far.

He grabbed your ankle, causing you to fall forward, Mitch dragging you into the bathroom to keep you trapped. You kicked around in his hands, trying to free yourself, failing miserably at his strength. You were lifted from the floor and shoved into a wall, your eyes wandering to anything but his. The bathtub was filled with water, probably prepped by the hotel staff before your arrival.

“Tell me,” Mitch said, voice husky from the constant frustration and fighting. “This is your last chance.”

“And I said no. I said fuck off, Mitch,” you told him sternly.

Your eyes met his, his whiskey eyes darkened by pure, unadulterated anger. He growled like before, pulling you back to slam you against the wall before turning on his heel, dunking you under the water.

Your eyes burned from the water around you, making out his blurry figure above you, holding you under the water. Your lungs burned, craving air already. Your body struggled against his hold, nails attempting to claw at his arms, legs kicking aimlessly in an attempt to loosen his grasp on you. Nothing seemed to work, however.

You were pulled from the water, gasping for air, barely able to focus on your surroundings when his voice piped up. “Tell me what you know, Y/N!”

You gasped slightly, shaking water from your face and water. “Fuck off, Mitch.”

Wrong answer, you guessed. Without another word, you were shoved back under the water, your body aching more and more the longer you were pushed under the water. The process repeated two more times, Mitch’s anger fueling his actions. His mind was blank, only focused on the need to get information, not the potential consequences it was going to have.

You were pulled from the water again, coughing on the water you had swallowed, tears ready to leak from your eyes. Your body was giving up on your, and you weren’t sure how long you would last. “Alright! Alright…” your barely got out of your mouth, panting for air. “I will tell you whatever you want. Please, Mitch. I’m sorry.”

Mitch heard your apology, his hands starting to shake in his hold on your shirt. He stared down at you, your battered and broken body. The battered and broken body of the girl he loved. He had done that to you. He was finally able to process what happened, and he hated himself for it.

His hands slowly released your shirt, letting you sink into a sitting position in the tub. He fell back, looking down at himself. The floor and his jeans were coated with water from your constant splashing and his forcefulness shoving you under the water. He was completely disgusted with what had happened.

He carefully glanced up at you, your head turning to meet his once you had caught most of your breath. “Y/N, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” he rambled, trying to keep some composure. The look on your face broke his heart. “I just… I don’t know what came over me. I’m the worst friend.”

“I didn’t know we were still friends,” you murmured, cracking a small smile at him. “I mean, we are trying to kill each other.”

Mitch chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, I missed your dry sense of humor.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “I really am sorry. For everything. I didn’t know you were alive. If I had known, I would have… done something. Instead I trained because I wanted to take down whoever killed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Mitch,” you whispered. “What a fucked up way to live. Best friends for life, right?”

“There’s that humor again,” he chuckled, standing up. “Just um… you may want to get yourself cleaned up. You’re a mess now.” He made his way to the door, gripping the handle tightly.

“Your fault, Rapp,” you called, standing up slowly, the water dripping from your limbs, clothes stuck to your body. He turned to look at you, his breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was wrong to be attracted to you in the heat of everything. “And you know Mitch, you looked rather sexy being in control like that. I’m sure any girl would drop their panties in a heartbeat if you want to tie them up in bed and take control like you did with me.”

Mitch felt his pants tighten, hustling out of the room without another word. The door shut behind him, Mitch collapsing on the floor against the wall opposite the bathroom. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. “God damn. Stop being amazing.”

He silently sat engrossed in his thoughts, listening to the shower run inside the bathroom as best he could. Which wasn’t very great apparently, seeing as he didn’t hear the water shut off, or the door opening up in front of him. He only processed what was happening when he looked up at you, water dripping from your hair, clad in just a green thong and partially see-through green lace bra. Mitch’s dry mouth fell open, gaping at the sight.

“W-what… where are your clothes?”

You shrugged at him, walking into the bedroom, Mitch staring at your ass as your walked, admiring your firm, round cheeks jostled slightly with each step. “My clothes were a little wet thanks to someone and their need to get information. Plus, they were covered in blood, Mitch. And I kind of don’t have spares.”

Mitch got up from the floor, rounding the corner to see you hunched over the bed, rifling through his bag for clothes. Your ass stuck out, Mitch’s fingers itching to caress the bare skin. It had been so long, he just wanted to hold you close.

Though his hardened cock was telling him he wanted to hold you in different ways.

You left his arms wrap around your waist suddenly, his body acting on his own, tugging your body back against his bare chest. You looked up at him, noticing the dark glint in his eyes. “Mitch? Are you alright?”

“Do you have any idea what you are doing to me right now?” came his deep, husky reply. His face burying in your neck. Soft kisses were placed on your skin, Mitch tightening his hold on you. “You can’t just walk around in nothing but your lingerie especially when your bra is see through. I can see your tits perfectly.”

His hand slid under the lacy bra, clamping around your breast tightly. A low moan slipped off your tongue, knees going weak against him. “Says the man who is walking around here shirtless. You’re not exactly the ugliest person in the world, Mitch,” you managed to get out. Your inability to focus was rising, Mitch’s strong hand kneading your breast consistently, his face buried into your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin. His teeth san into your neck, biting at it, hearing you squeal and curse. “Fuck, Mitch.”

“God, I’ve missed feeling you,” he mumbled, spinning you to face him completely. His hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs over your reddened cheeks. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

You bit at your lip, noticing his eyes glancing between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve missed you too, Mitchy. You have no idea how much I thought about you this past year.” You paused, staring up at him, watching his tongue pass over his lips, wetting them. “Shit, this is so wrong. We’re enemies, Mitch, yet all I want to do is kiss you.”

Mitch chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Is that all you want to do?”

Shuffling your feet, only one word left your mouth. “No.”

“Is it wrong that I want it too?”

A longer pause. “No.”

Mitch’s hands released your cheeks, resting at your sides instead. “Is it wrong if we actually do it? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your mind contemplated the statement for a second, finally giving in without a second thought. “Fuck no. This is too right.”

As if they were magnets, Mitch’s lips were on yours, his hands under your thighs as you jumped on him, legs winding around his waist. Your arms messily looped around his neck, almost accidently punching him in the face in the process. He didn’t seem to care, or notice even. He was too focused on kissing you, moving his lips against yours, leading you into the sexiest kiss you ever shared. A spark ran through your body, your entire body tingling from his kiss. You were officially on cloud nine.

Mitch pushed his bag to the floor, not caring if his contents spilled out. You were dropped onto the bed in a heartbeat, your lips only disconnecting for a single second before Mitch was on top of you, your lips moving rhythmically against each other, parted enough that your tongues could battle for dominance inside your mouth. His hands roamed your body, removing your bra from your frame without you noticing.

Mitch fumbled with his belt, never taking a moment to break the kiss your shared. The sounds of your lips smacking against each other filled the room, covering the sounds of his belt buckle coming undone, the leather pulled from the loops. One large, veiny hand moved both of your arms above your head, the other securing the belt around them quickly.

You pulled away from him, feeling the leather tighten around your wrists. “Mitch. What the fuck is this?”

“You wanted me to take control like before, didn’t you, Y/N? So, be a good girl and keep your hands right there,” he said, his tone low and deep. Your body squirmed under him, arousal pooling between your legs from his words.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, back arching off the bed as he kissed down your neck to your chest. Your body squirmed from his light touches, jolts of electricity running down your spine when he finally attached to your sensitive nipple. “Shit, Mitch.”

He kissed at the hardened peak, his fingers tugging at the other bud aimlessly. His lips tugged at it, his tongue skillfully lapping at the bud. Your mewls reached his ears, a grin of satisfaction befalling his lips against your skin. Your hips bucked into him, bound hands reaching down to entangle in his silky locks.

Mitch pulled away abruptly, pushing your arms back above your head. “What did I say, baby?” He mumbled, dark eyes locking with yours. “Hands. Stay. Don’t. Move. If it happens again, I might need to punish you.”

“Like you could,” your taunted, legs clenching. “The big, bad CIA assassin. You were barely able to keep me down before. If we were in an actual fight, you’d be downed in a second.”

“Is that what you think?” He sneered, ripping the side of your panties, and tossing the fabric clear across the room. “You want to bring that up? Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to kill you?”

“But when you see red, Mitchy. You could have drowned me. But you didn’t. You know why?” You asked. “You’re a pussy.”

“Oh, baby,” he smirked. “You really need to be quiet. Use your mouth for something better. Like screaming my name like every time I’ve fucked you.”

“Oh Mitchy. I can do more with my mouth than that,” you joked, wrapping your legs around him and using all of your weight to flip him. Straddling his waist, body bare for his view, you looked down at him, smirking at his wide eyes.

“Oh, that was hot.”

You grinned, shuffling down his body, situating yourself at his groin. Your bound hands struggled to unbutton his dark jeans, the zipper getting caught whenever you attempted to tug it down. “Dammit. Come off,” you mumbled to yourself, Mitch laughing at your frustration. You cast him a glare, huffing slightly. “Shut up, pussy.”

Mitch shook his head, pushing his jeans and boxers off for you, kicking the material off the end of the bed. You grinned, running your fingers along the length of his stiff cock, watching it twitch under your feather-like touch. You admired his length and girth, licking your lips at the sight of his precum oozing from the tip. You had every intention to hold it, stroke it, suck the daylights out of it. Everything you wished to do to him on a normal basis before Katrina came into the picture.

Mitch had a different plan. He leaned forward, his hands gripping your waist and spinning you around to straddle him. His hands slunk down to your hips, tugging you back until your dripping pussy was in front of his mouth, his lips attaching to your swollen clit instantly. You moaned loudly, falling forward against him, cheek nuzzling against his shaft. The man that was an inch from killing you less than an hour ago shoved his scruffy face in your cunt, kitten licking your folds, shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy to taste your juices.

You moaned, throat vibrating against him, Mitch moaning against you. Your hands gripped at his length, shakily wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, lapping at the sensitive underside. Your head bobbed at the same rhythm as his licks, his fingers replacing his mouth so he could focus on sucking your clit. The faster your bobbed, the faster he pumped, fingers curling into your sweet spot as your traced the throbbing, protruding vein on his length. Your nose would bury in the dark hairs at the base of his cock, letting the tip tap at the back of your throat. His scruff scraped at your folds and thighs, a delicious burn you didn’t regret forming.

Mitch pulled away, wiping his chin clean of your juices, having to force you off his cock and back onto the bed. You were pushed onto your stomach, Mitch positioning himself behind you and tugging your ass up against his pelvis. His hand rubbed at your ass cheek, placing a loud smack to the skin. When you let out a throaty moan, Mitch grinned.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough with you?” He said, his gruff voice covering the groans he wanted to release at your whines and whimpers. His hand whipped across your ass again, a small scream breaking the silence in the room.

“Fuck, Mitch. Just fuck me already,” you whimpered, fingers twisting into the sheets under you.

“You want my cock inside you, baby?” He asked, his tip rubbing against your soaked core. “You want it hard? So hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow? You want it deep? So deep, you are seeing stars? You want to cum? Cum so strongly that your body withers and writhes under me, coating my cock like you used to? Is that what you want, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you mewled, pushing your ass back against him. “Fuck me like you did before you dated Katrina. Make me scream for you like you used to.” Mitch’s heart wrenched at the mention of his deceased fiancé while simultaneously swelling that you wanted him so bad, to go back to the simple time when it was just you guys experimenting with your likes, spending hours at night with his cock inside you, screaming and cumming for each other.

Mitch’s fingers dug into your ass cheeks, his hips bucking forward until his cock was hilt deep inside you, your walls clenching around him at the sudden intrusion. Your face buried into the bed, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, attempting to adjust to his large size. He had grown since the last time you slept together, though it probably didn’t help that your only occupant since that time was your trusty vibrator. The least you could say was that you had missed this feeling, and you loved that he was back inside you.

Mitch didn’t waste time, his hips pulling back slowly and snapping back into you with great force. His thrusts were quick, pounding his cock into your pussy at godlike speeds. The sound of sweaty, slapping skin filled the air, your moans and screams getting lost in the bed. The occasional sound of Mitch smacking your ass as he thrust joined the sex-filled room, Mitch groaning and grunting.

“Fuck, babe. You’re so tight,” he whispered, eyes closing to relish in the feeling around him. “You feel so much better than Katrina ever did.” The words weren’t meant to come out, but it made your heart jump all the same. You knew he didn’t mean to say that aloud, but you loved that was how he felt. You hoped it was more than just the sex, but the sparks between you guys gave you hope that he felt something more than the friendship that was everlasting between you.

His hand darting forward, twisting into to your hair, yanking back forcefully. Your moan filled the room, your body shaking violently. You weren’t used to sex with Mitch being this rough, but you loved it. His cock pounding into your battered cunt, hitting your cervix and g-spot every time he burrowed back inside you. His constant slaps to your ass, causing your core to tighten and leak mounds of fluids onto his shaft. His hand yanking at your hair so he could hear your loud moans and screams of his name. His consistent groans and grunts of satisfaction whenever his cock twitched inside you, telling you he was close to his end. His hands held you tightly, leaning forward to suck dark marks to your neck and back.

You were bound to have countless bruises tomorrow.

His thrusts grew sloppy, his shaky hand reaching around to rub your clit. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. I need to feel you cum for me.”

“Y-yes, sir,” your straggled voice came, huffing loudly. A few rough snaps of his hips against you, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles to your clit, and your limbs gave out. Mitch had to hold your hips in place as your collapsed onto the bed, your body wracked with violent spasms. Your back arched, toes curling into the sheets, loud screams of his name bouncing off the walls. Your pussy hugged his cock, your vision going black with your orgasm, fluids splattering your walls around him, moistening his length.

Mitch groaned at the feeling around him, tugging himself free from your tight cunt. His fist wrapped around his erect shaft, rapidly jerking himself until streams of hot cum spewed from the tip, painting a mosaic of his juices on your sweaty back. He moaned, your name befalling his lips in a low voice, the last bits of his cum landing on your ass. He panted heavily, scratching at his scruffy chin, listening to your rapid breathing.

“That was amazing,” you mumbled, Mitch barely hearing you. He chuckled, nodding in agreement, not sure if you saw or now. He grabbed some tissues from the table by the bed, cleaning you and him of the white globs of sperm. He collapsed next to you on the bed, removing the belt from your hands and moving you to lay on his chest. You sighed happily, snuggling into him, inhaling his scent.

“You still owe me information you know,” he mentioned, chuckling quietly.

“Oh. Right. Well, I guess discussing the plans of a killer is good pillow talk, huh?” you joked, beginning to spill everything you knew about Ghost’s plans. Which, surprising, wasn’t as much as Mitch figured. There were bits of information that surprised him, but you kept one thing quiet from him: where Ghost was building it. Mitch figured you were withholding the information, but chose not to question.

Yet.

He shuffled off the bed, ignoring the sad look on your face. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, sliding them on quickly before grabbing his phone from his jeans. “I need to tell Stan what you’ve told me,” he whispered, looking over to see you sit up in the bed, wincing and holding the sheet to your chest. He shuffled over, kissing you quickly on the lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone while he talked to Stan. You heard bits of the conversation, wondering what was going on. He told Stan the important bits you told him, Mitch groaning after Stan told him something you presumed.

“Irene will be here in the morning, Stan. What am I supposed to tell her when you aren’t back?” There was a pause, Mitch walking out of the bathroom slowly, rubbing his face. “Cover for you? Right. Whatever you say, sir.”

He hung up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You grabbed his hand, rubbing the top with your thumb. “Irene Kennedy will be here tomorrow. CIA Director, right?” Mitch nodded, not looking at you. “You can’t stop them from taking me away, Mitch. I’ve done bad things. It’s only right that they take me away and we will just have to see how the trial goes.”

Mitch sighed, finally looking at you. “If you had to choose between your anger towards the US government for leaving you for dead and helping stop Ghost so you can come back home with me, what would you choose?” He asked quietly. Your lips remained shut, knowing exactly what your answer would be. You wanted nothing more than to be with Mitch and if it meant returning to the home of your betrayers, you would. But you couldn’t easily say that aloud to the operative next to you. You needed to do whatever you could to protect him. “You’re my best friend. You know that, right? I’m not ready to lose you.”

“You won’t, Mitch. I’m not leaving you again.”

Sometimes, you wished you could believe that.

Pain | noun | \ˈpān\: usually localized physical suffered associated with bodily disorder (such as a disease or an injury); Acute mental or emotional distress or suffering.

You sat in a chair, hands cuffed in front of you, watching various people from the CIA shuffling around, trying to gather information to determine where Ghost was. Your eyes shifted to Mitch, talking with Irene Kennedy in a corner. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it clearly wasn’t good based on the scowl written on Mitch’s features. He would run a hand through his hair, grumbling before talking back to her.

Your eyes were brought back to a man, whom you heard someone call by the name of Edward, walking over to you, his hand roughly pulling you up by the arm. You stumbled in his grasp, your already sore body from the prior night screaming at you. “Let’s go, sweet cheeks. You have a one-way ticket back home, straight to maximum security prison. Hope you like your life sentence,” Edward sneered, tugging you in the direction of the door.

“With all due respect, sir,” you said, tripping you’re your feet in his haste, “you are hurting me.”

“Who gives a fuck?” He snapped, his hand wrapping tighter around your arm. You visibly winced, his hand squeezing a dark bruise you had gotten from Mitch last night. Mitch must have seen what was going on, breaking away from Irene to rush over.

“Hey, man. Lay off her!” Mitch yelled, shoving Edward off you. His outburst must have gathered the attention of everyone in the room, their heads turning and their actions halting. Edward glared up at Mitch, Mitch ignoring the look as he turned to you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mitch. I swear, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping his shirt with your hands. “But you can’t be doing this. We’re enemies, remember?”

“Fuck that, Y/N. You’re my best friend first,” he whispered.

“And I will always be your friend, Mitchy. But, we knew this was going to happen. We can’t let our personal feelings for each cloud our judgment.”

Mitch sighed, looking down. Stan’s words echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. Never let it get personal. He knew Stan had been right then, and he knew you were right now. But could anyone blame him for watching the love of his life being unfairly harassed? He just wanted you safe. He finally had you back in his arms just for you to be ripped from them again? He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

He needed you, just as you needed him. He wanted you, just as you wanted him. He wanted to go home with you, the way it always was, but he would make things right. He would find his mother’s ring, the ring Katrina wore when she was shot down, and give it to the rightful owner – you.

Edward ripped you from Mitch’s grasp, ragging you out of the room quickly. Mitch took a single step forward, ready to stop him again, when Irene cut him off. “Rapp! Enough of this. We have bigger issues right now, such as locating this bomb and securing it before Ghost can use it. He could kill thousands if we aren’t careful. First, we need to reconnect with Hurley.”

Mitch leaned on a counter, processing everything that he knew. He knew you had kept the location of the bomb hidden, and he knew who Stan had snuck off to see the night prior, telling Mitch to keep it secret from Irene. Though, the dark-haired man couldn’t keep the information to himself and had been the first thing he told Irene when she came out of talking to you herself.

Stan hadn’t been heard from since Mitch’s phone call. His gut told him that his asshole of an instructor had been captured. Ghost had a personal vendetta against the older man, and from what you had told him, Ghost would do anything to get back at him for whatever he did in the past. If Stan was captured by Ghost, that means he would find Ghost, Hurley and the bomb in the same location.

The location only you knew.

Mitch turned to look at Irene briefly, her back turned to him, running over some data with another operative. Mitch made his decision right there. He grabbed his leather jacket from the chair nearby, the one you had been sitting in, and a pair of car keys from the stand near the door, slipping out unnoticed.

He didn’t regret how recklessly he drove, hot on the trail of the car you were thrown into the back of. He sped through the streets of Rome, whiskey eyes narrowing on the black car he knew you were in. He didn’t think twice before he crashed straight into it, noses of the cars crunching together upon impact. He rolled from the car, yanking open the driver side door and dragging Edward out, punching him across the face a few times until he was out cold. He turned back to the car, your cuffed wrists secured around the second man, Damian’s, throat, the man’s face red as he went unconscious.

“Mitch?” You asked, finally moving off the man. Mitch nodded silently, grabbing the keys off Edward’s belt, yanking the back door open to slide in with you. His fingers fumbled with the key, twisting it in the small lock until it clicked, the metal clattering to the floor of the car. “What are you doing? Why are you here? And why are you freeing me?

He held your wrists, fingers rubbing over the red marks from here the cuffs rubbed. “You know where the bomb is. You know where Ghost is.” Your face paled, frowning at him. “You’re taking me there.”

“It’s not safe,” you muttered, keeping from looking at him.

“I know it’s not. But he’s building a bomb that could kill thousands of people. And I’m pretty sure he has my boss. I need to find him and stop him, Y/N. And I want your help,” he told you, using one hand to gently tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Does Irene know about this?” You asked lowly.

“Hell no.”

“Good. Time to go against the law some more, I guess,” you joked, straddling his lap as you got out of the car. Mitch groaned, feeling you press against him, mentally telling himself to keep his dick in his pants. “You coming, Mitchy?”

Mitch sighed, sliding from the car, grabbing your tiny hand in his large, veiny one, proceeding to drag you down an alley, out of the public eye. “As soon as we stop Ghost, and you get off for helping us stop him, you are fucking grounded. You are not leaving our room ever again.”

“Excuse me? Our room?” you asked, smile on your face and an eyebrow risen.

“Yup,” he said shortly, stopping to trap you against a wall. His lips skimmed yours, your breath hitching slightly. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

He kissed you softly, pulling away before you had a chance to respond. Your mind was fuzzy, confusion spiking inside you. His actions made no sense, though your heart leaped happily at the small gesture. Your fingers entwined as you slipped through the alleys, stealing a car on a road a few blocks away.

You directed him to the underground sewers Ghost chose to hide out in, parking the car a slight distance from the entrance. You saw a few men about, leaving in a car not long after you arrived. You gestured to the entrance, glancing at Mitch. “That’s it, right there. If Stan and Ghost are anywhere, it’s in there.”

“Good,” Mitch mumbled, pulling his gun from the back of his pants. “Let’s go.”

You shook your head vigorously, Mitch cocking an eyebrow. “I can’t. If Ghost sees me, he will surely kill me for ratting him out.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, voice soft. His arm wrapped around your waist, kissing your temple. “I will protect you.”

You smiled slightly, nodding slowly. Mitch grinned into your hair, taking your hand in his free one and leading you into the sewers. It was dark, barely lit, your steps faintly echoing down the long tunnels. You treaded carefully, keeping an eye out for anyone. Your hand clenched in his, afraid for his life and your own.

A giant metal gate stood in your path, a glistening silver lock and chain barring it closed. Your hand released his, tugging at the lock. “What the fuck? This has never been locked before. What do we do now?”

Mitch looked up at the gate, moving forward slightly. His muscular arms flexed as he pushed the gates apart, creating a small gap for you to slip through. Your small frame slid through easily. Mitch, however, couldn’t fit. His bulked-up frame was too large to squeeze through the opening, no matter how hard he tried. He frowned, looking at you.

“Just stay right there. We will figure something else out,” he whispered.

His heart broke slightly when you shook your head, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m sorry, Mitch. It’s for your own good. I’m so sorry.” Without another word, your turned on your heel, taking off down the dark corridor, ignoring Mitch’s calls.

You fought back tears, rounding the last corner to the main hideout. Ghost heard your rapid footsteps, looking over at you. Stan Hurley was hung by the arm with a chain, his other arm clasp by a device on the table. Hurley looked battered and beaten, blood dripping from multiple gashes along his body. Ghost’s ear was bleeding and you could only assume they had some kind of tousle while Ghost was ranting at his former mentor.

“Y/N? Why the fuck are you here?” Ghost sneered, grabbing his gun off the table. “You little traitorous wench. I should kill you right now.”

“I never told them the location of the bomb, Ghost. I got you Hurley though, didn’t I? The bits I did tell Rapp got you the man you wanted. So, what you should be saying is thank you,” you told him, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

Ghost shook his head, placing the gun back down. “So, I’m supposed to just accept you back with open arms? Is that what you expect?”

“No,” you mumbled under your breath, though Ghost’s trained ears caught the short message. “They’re going to be coming soon though. You need to get out of here. Now.”

Ghost chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing the bomb is done then, huh?”

It was only when he said that did you notice the dead bodies of the men that worked on the bomb along with the dead body of the person that originally hired you to build it. Ghost had always had another agenda. He accepted the task of building this bomb for some man that disliked the nuclear treaty between Turkey and America, but Ghost always knew he would use the bomb for his own purposes. What those were, you really didn’t know. You had resigned yourself to never questioning the man.

The faint sound of an explosion sounded, smoke beginning to fill the small area you were in. Ghost’s eyes narrowed on you, his fingers wrapping around your forearm and dragging you away, the bag with the bomb strapped over his shoulder. You heard the faint grunts of Stan, struggling to free himself, and Mitch’s voice as he rounded the corner, semi-automatic he must have pilfered from one of the men returning to the compound in hand. He was shouting for you, your heart wrenching at the sound of his distress.

Ghost shoved your forward when you were nearing the exit, forcing you to walk in front of him. “You’re a dirty little liar, Y/N. You tipped off Rapp.”

“I’m sorry. He would have killed me, Ghost,” you tried to reason, feeling the barrel of his gun press to the back of your head.

“That’s a load of horse shit. You still love him, and you will never stop. What actually happened last night when you were captured? You caused the marks on your neck?” You silently cursed the various marks that lined your body from your reckless activities, knowing you had been caught red handed.

“So what if I love Mitch? Not like he will ever return the feeling. I’m just a good lay for him I guess.”

“Is that what you think?” you heard his deep voice break the darkness, taking slow steps towards you and the former CIA operative. “That I wouldn’t love you? That I just wanted to fuck you? God, you’ve always been oblivious.”

You were forced around, looking at Mitch as you stood next to Ghost. “Rapp. I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet you, but it’s not. Especially now that you are going to die.” The gun rose, steady while he aimed. “Do you have any last words?”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Mitch said flatly, his voice showing no signs of faulting. “I will stop you. And I will kill you.”

“Wrong answer, Rapp.”

Your eyes widened, Ghost’s finger closing in on the trigger. “Ghost, no!” You screamed, grabbing at the gun, attempting to wrestle it from his grasp. You knew you couldn’t overpower him, seeing as he had trained with the CIA in the past. But you had to do something. Your fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun, deflecting the barrel downwards, away from Mitch’s body. Ghost glared, your bodies battling for control of the gun, your bodies struggling to overpower the other.

Mitch watched you attempt to fight off the experienced killer, unsure what was happening. When a song rang through the sewer opening, his eyes widened. His ears were ringing loudly from the shot, his blood pumping faster. Your body separated from Ghost, Ghost turning and bolting quickly, your hand moving to your stomach slowly. When the shaky limb was pulled away, Mitch stopped breathing.

Blood.

He rushed forward, catching your body before it fell, blood seeping from the hole in your abdomen. Your hand pressed to the wound, attempting to put pressure on it, wincing from the pain that was consuming your body. “Fuck, Y/N. Y-you’re going to be ok,” Mitch mumbled, moving some hair from your face and applying more pressure to your wound. You groaned, a few tears leaking from eyes.

“I’ll be ok, Mitch,” you gasped out, Mitch not believing a word you uttered. He could see the pain on your face, fear flooding his core. “Please, Mitch. Go stop him. He’s going to kill people. That should take you to the docks. He’s going to blow it at sea because it’s already armed. Stop it and fast.” Your bloody hand reached up, running along his cheek. “Please. I believe in you, Mitch. I love you.”

A single tear slid down his cheek, sliding onto your hand in the process. “I know. I love you too. Don’t you dare die on me, alright? I will be back soon.”

You reluctantly nodded, Mitch laying your body carefully against the wall. He disappeared, sparing one final glance at you. The second he was gone, you groaned loudly, shifting painfully against the wall. You let out a breath, wincing. “I don’t know how much I can promise this one, Mitch. I shouldn’t lie about promises I can’t keep.”

Your eyes were drifting closed, thinking about all the times you shared with Mitch. You didn’t register when someone dropped down beside you, or your limp body being lifted from the ground. Your mind went dark, the last thing that ran through your mind being Mitch as your hand went limp beside your bloody body.

Mitch, leaving you behind, was determined to fulfil your request, telling himself that he would return to you. You would be able to return home together, be able to be together finally. You were the only thing on his mind when he jumped onto the speedboat with Ghost. You were the only thing on his mind when he successfully killed the man who injured the love of his life. You were the only thing on his mind when he watched the bomb detonate in the water from the helicopter, clinging to the handrail.

When the explosion subsided, and no injuries were reported, Mitch finally relaxed, sinking into his seat. Stan looked over at him, a proud feeling swelling inside of him at the sight of the recruit he didn’t want to begin with.

Mitch took a moment to process what happened, jumping up in his seat. “Oh my God. Y/N. I-I need to go back for her.” Stan almost had to tackle with recruit before he could jump from the helicopter recklessly, which was hard considering the amount of injuries the older CIA man had incurred.

“Rapp, calm down,” he said, seeing Mitch on the verge of a panic attack. “She’s safe.”

“No, no. She was in those tunnels. She was shot and bleeding. I need to go help her,” he whispered, breathing picking up at the thought of losing his best friend.

“Rapp! She’s safe!” He said, gripping Mitch’s scruff chin to make him look into the man’s eyes. “I found her after you left. She was rushed to the hospital. She’s safe and will be ok. You can relax.”

Mitch shook slightly, slowly beginning to relax in his mentor’s arms. A wave of exhaustion rolled over his body, thought it was more like a tsunami in his mind. He was covered in cuts and bruises, blood dripping down his face and chest, his muscles aching from his fight with Ghost. But he was relieved, a sigh escaping his lips. He slunk back into his seat, his eyes drooping as he drifted off, awaiting the time he would see you again.

Love | noun | \ˈləv\: an intense feeling of deep affection.

Mitch sighed to himself, sitting on the chair on the beach, running a towel over his hair. He looked at the picture of him and Katrina in Spain he kept in his wallet. He sighed to himself, dropping the picture into his bag, zipping it closed. He slid his black shirt over his head, grabbing his bag and heading into the Italian hotel he was staying at since the incident.

The door clicked as it unlocked, Mitch dropping the bag on the table once he entered. He rounded the corner, smiling slightly at the sight of your sleeping body on the bed. Sure, you had been unconscious since you were admitted to the hospital, but he was glad you were ok. You had been dismissed a few days ago, Mitch begging Irene to allow you to stay in his hotel room. It took a lot of convincing, but the charges were dropped, considering you had taken a bullet for Mitch and helped stop the death of thousands of people.

Mitch sat on the edge of the bed, holding your hand in his and lifting your baggy shirt slightly to check your dressings. The doctors had said you were lucky, the bullet missing every organ miraculously. You were already beginning to heal nicely. You just had to be careful not to overexert yourself when you finally wake up.

You stirred slightly, eyes cracking open to stare up at the handsome man. He smiled largely, shifting closer to you. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Nice of you to return to the land of the living.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, slowly attempting to sit up. Your limbs were stiff and kind of sore, but you didn’t feel nearly as much pain as you figured you would. “Fuck, what did I miss?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Another world war, we discovered aliens, Pluto became a planet again, Ghost died and the bomb killed no one, you were acquitted, I love you-“

“Woah. Slow your roll, cowboy. I know you are spewing shit, but Ghost is dead? The bomb didn’t kill anyone?” You asked, mouth falling open. Mitch frowned, laying down on the bed next to you.

“That’s all you got from that?”

“I heard you say you love me. And I love you too,” you told him, absently running your fingers through his hair without realizing you were doing so. “But I was acquitted?”

“Oh my God. You’re a loser,” he mumbled, curling into your side like a child.

“Says the grown man curling up on the injured person.”

“Shut up. You’re healing fine. I’ve been taking great take of you. Don’t be ungrateful.” He sat up, kissing your cheek. “You just have to be careful until your last few stitches come out. But you should be ok in my opinion.”

You smiled at him, twisting around to straddle his waist. You leaned forward, taking a deep breath at a small surge of pain in your system, knowing this moment was worth it. “Well, how can I ever say thank you for taking care of me?” you muttered, putting on the sexiest voice you could. You felt Mitch squirm under you, a small tent forming in his swim trunks.

“Well, you can agree to marry me first,” he stated bluntly. Your eyes widened, leaning back on top of him.

“W-what?”

“Look, I know I’m skipping some steps.” He paused, blinking once. “Alright, maybe a lot of steps, if not all of them. But I need you. I’ve loved you since we were in middle school. You’re my best friend and I was afraid to ruin what I had with you. But I can’t live without you anymore. I’m fixing what I should have fixed years ago. The second we get home, I’m digging out my mother’s ring and putting it in its rightful place.” He picked up your hand, kissing the spot the ring should go. “On your finger.”

A few stray tears slip down your cheeks, Mitch sitting up with you still on his lap. He held your cheeks, wiping the tears away, smiling at you. You just nodded at him, unable to form the words you wanted. You finally managed a straggled “yes,” Mitch flashing his pearly whites at you.

“You have no idea how happy you make me. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you got out, leaning forward to kiss him. Your eyes slid closed, not even caring when his lips quickly enveloped yours, taking control of the kiss in an instant. Your arms wound around his neck, threading through his hair. His hands held your waist, careful of the bandages. You both felt the spark in the kiss, your bodies heating up from your interaction.

The kiss was speeding up, lips smacking against each other, bodies pressing against each other. Your tongues swirled together between your lips, only separating for taking a small breath of air. Mitch was tugging at the baggy shirt you were clad in, ripping it over your head when you pulled away for another breath. Your breasts fell free, Mitch’s hand making contact with the plump mound the first chance he could.

He carefully rolled you over, your back pressing against the bed, his mouth never leaving yours. His hand kneaded your breast, massaging the tender mounds, his fingers brushing the sensitive peaks. Your moans were drowned out by your kisses, your bodies rolling against each other more and more.

Your hands slowly trailed down his body, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, slipping your fingers under the hem to delicately trace his abs. Mitch’s deep groan was lost in your throat, his lips pulling away abruptly from yours. He leaned back, pulling the tight, black cotton material over his head. Your fingers reached over, playing with the hairs of his happy trail, playing with the string on his swim trunks.

“You went to the beach without me?” You paused, pulling the string undone while you thought. “Wait, beach? Where are we exactly?”

Mitch chuckled, drawing circles on your thighs, grinning when he felt the goosebumps form. “Still in Italy. Right off the coast. They didn’t want to move you or Stan will you were a bit more healed. Plus, there was a bit more work to be done while you recover.” He leaned forward, pecking your lips. Plus, we all need a little vacation.”

“At least this time your proposal at the beach didn’t lead to terrorists attacking and killing your fiancé,” you jabbed. Mitch faked a frown, his heart to his chest.

“That’s low, baby. So very low.”

“Hey, you can at least joke about it a bit more now compared to before. A year ago, you would have had a breakdown at a mere mention of what happened.”

“Well,” he said, tugging the panties you were wearing under the baggy shirt down, his fingers brushing your dripping wet core. “I realized how much I love you. And how much I have moved on from Katrina. Because I’ve always had a girl by my side I want to be with.” Two of his fingers slid inside your pussy, listening to your sharp inhale of air. “And I’m much stronger, mentally and physically, than when I was in Spain. I won’t let anything happen to her. I will always be by her side to love her and cherish her and make her scream my name when I make love to her.”

“Well,” you started, your words cut short as Mitch’s long, slender digits slid inside you quickly, thrusting vigorously and curling the ends to rub your g-spot. “How about we start that now?”

Mitch grunted at your words, his thumb pressing to your clit as he thrust. Your body was already shaking at his minor movements, knowing you were sensitive from your lack of release from being unconscious. “I think we can manage that,” he murmured, his voice husky with arousal.

Your body quaked, walls tightening around his fingers, juices flowing freely around them. Your stomach tightened, a twinge of pain coming from your wound, though it was overshadowed by the overwhelming pleasure you felt from your orgasm. Your back arched off the bed, legs bending in every which way, the waves from your orgasm rolling through every pore in your body.

Mitch carefully pulled his fingers from your core, licking them clean of your juices. “So sweet,” he told himself, a blush forming on your cheeks.

“Shut up, Mitch. Stop trying to be cute.”

“Not trying, babe. Just stating the truth,” he said, rolling off the bed to undress. You heard the Velcro on his trunks come apart, the dampened material sliding down his legs quickly. Your shifted slightly to stare at his round ass, licking your lips.

“Did you know you have a nice ass?” You asked, Mitch looking at you over his shoulder. “I mean, you’re gorgeous in all ways, Mitch. Sexy face, wonderful muscles, the most delicious happy trail, perfectly round ass. Don’t get me started on your scruffy beard. Never shave it. I gladly accept beard burn whenever you decide to eat me out. And let’s not forget the giant fucking cock I love so much.”

“Is that so?” He joked, turning to face you. Your eyes visibly widened, locking on his fully erect cock standing prominently in the sunlight the leaked through the closed curtains. His hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking it slowly. The red tip glistened with his precum, your mouth beginning to water at the sight. “You mean this?”

You reached out your hands, giving him a “grabby hands” motion. “Yes. That. I want that inside me. Let me connect on the deepest level with it.” You saw his face, giggling at his deadpanned expression. “I meant you. Let me connect with you.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, pushing you back on the bed and settling himself between your legs. The head of his cock rubbed through your folds, probing at your entrance occasionally. His hips shifted forward once, his entire length sliding in an inch at a time until he was completely sheathed inside you. Your simultaneous moans filled the room, your arms locking around his neck in a heartbeat.

You felt no need to share words. Just pure loving emotion was felt. The dark-haired assassin leaned forward, his body shifting into a comfortable position to thrust inside you. Your felt ever pulse and throb of his cock inside you, your walls hugging him every time he expanded them. His tip easily tapped your cervix and sweet spot, his girth making sure he filled you to the brim with himself. Your nails raked down his back, leaving long red scratches in their wake. Mitch’s fingers curled into the sheets, messily kissing your lips occasionally as he pounded you firmly, yet gently, into the hotel bed.

You were together on cloud nine, and you had no intention of leaving that anytime soon.

You tugged Mitch further against your body, the assassin careful not to apply pressure to your wound. Your hands fell from his back, tugging at Mitch’s hand. He buried his head in his neck, allowing your fingers to interlock with his in a passionate embrace. He grinned against the skin of your neck, kissing at nipping it, leaving a fresh bruise atop the ones that were almost healed. His hips gyrated against yours, your moan directed straight into his ear.

“Fuck,” Mitch moaned, his head pulling from your neck. His lips locked with yours, his thrusts continuing in a sloppy manner. His lips pulled away, brushing against yours as he spoke. “I love you so much, Y/N Rapp.”

You mewled at the combination of his words and the feelings he gave you, your gut swelling with happiness as you neared your second orgasm. The coil inside you was loosening quickly, and Mitch knew it. He felt it too.

You tried to get words out, but all you could muster was moans of his name, small screams erupting occasionally. Mitch felt proud that you were enjoying it, feeling a million times more connect than he ever felt with you. If this was how he was going to spend the rest of his life, he did not regret the choices he made.

His cock sputtered inside you, Mitch’s actions slowly to a steady push, his entire load spilling inside you in streams of white cum. The feeling of his hot seed warmed your insides set you over the hurdle to your own release, a long moan bouncing off the walls as your fluids coated his cock. Mitch slowly thrust into you, riding out your highs.

The thing that solidified your everlasting bond was your connected hands tightening around each other, never once letting go since they became connected.

Your pants came out unevenly, though somehow matched perfectly with Mitch’s. He pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you. His arm wound around you, his hand clutching your breast tightly in his grip. You chuckled at his motion, feeling his head nuzzle into your neck. Kissing his forehead, your smiled to yourself.

“I love you too, Mitch Rapp. You’re my best friend and my lover. I wouldn’t wish for anything different.”

Mitch nodded softly kissing your bare shoulder. “You know, it’s funny. When I left on this mission, Stan told me not to let my personal feelings affect my actions. But I think my personal feelings saved you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to save you.”

“You might have actually drowned me in Rome,” you joked, feeling Mitch frown.

“Can’t we let that go?”

“Nope. Holding it against you forever.”

“Bitch,” he mumbled, causing you to laugh. “What I was trying to get across was that I’m glad I let this one get personal.” He paused, leaning on his arm to look at you better. “Also, never watch home movies with Stan. It leads to him strangling you with computer wires.”

“Duly noted, babe,” you told him, curling into his chest. “He was right to say not to let it get personal. It almost got you killed. But I’m glad you don’t listen to orders that well. You saved me.”

“No, you saved me,” Mitch said, letting you both drift off into a well-deserved rest.

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