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bourneforthis · 5 years

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He Saves You From Drowning

Chris Hemsworth x (platonic!) fem!Reader Words: 2050 WARNINGS: Depressed/slightly self harming thoughts, unrequited love, drowning, CPR, angst.

Summery: You are good friends with Chris and his wife Elsa but you’re secretly, hopelessly, in love with Chris. After seeing him and his wife kissing while hanging out on the beach together, you need to clear your head and end up recklessly surfing a dangerous wave…

Songs to listen to while reading (if you want): Time from Interception soundtrack Rescue from 12 Strong soundtrack Your Hands are Cold from Pride and Prejudice soundtrack

(h/l) = hair length (h/c) = hair color

A/N: I’ve never been surfing before, so I apologize if any surf technicalities/terms are wrong in this.

You sit down on the sand of the beach, facing the water. Behind you, your close friend Chris Hemsworth is cooking up dinner on the grill. His wife Elsa, one of your best friends, is standing near him. You love them both dearly. They’ve been extremely welcoming to you since you met them a few years ago. For awhile everything was great, just friends hanging out, having a good time. But then something changed. Or maybe it had always been there, under the surface… Either way, you fell in love. You fell in love with someone who you could never have… You fell in love with your best friend’s husband. You tried to fight the feelings you had developed for Chris, knowing they were wrong and would make you miserable, but they had planted themselves deep into your heart. After a while, you just started pretending they weren’t there and went on like everything was okay. You’re pulled from your thoughts when Luke, Chris’ best friend and personal trainer pokes a joke towards him. They all start laughing and you find yourself joining them. You try catching your breath from laughing so hard, only to start laughing all over again. You turn around to face the small group standing behind you, as you start commenting on the joke.

“Oh yeah Chris, I’m sure you c-”

Suddenly, all humor leaves you, as you watch Elsa lean up to give Chris a kiss, which he deepens. It feels like time slows down, watching as his arms circle themselves around her waist, lifting her up a bit. Your heart sinks and a lump forms in you throat, causing your eyes to burn with oncoming tears. It’s quite common to see them showing affection, but it never hurt any less. Today, for whatever reason, it hurt more. You quickly look away, turning your back on the scene. When you feel the first hot tear slip down your cheek, you rub it off harshly. Standing up suddenly, you walk the few feet to your surf board and pick it up.

“Hey, Y/n! Where you going? Dinners ‘bout ready!”

Your bottom lip trembles as you ignore Chris and continue to briskly walk towards the water. Tears silently fall from your lashes and your heart clenches with every step you take. How could you let this happen? Why’d it have to be him? It’s always him… The moment the water brushes against your toes, you draw in a shaky breath and glance down. You watch as the water rolls against the sand, so gentle and calm, before you look back up to see the harsh, chaotic waves beyond. You release a breath and take a step forward into the ocean. You walk until you can no longer feel the sand beneath your feet and then you get on your board, beginning to paddle out further. Sobs start to break out despite your efforts to keep them in. Rational thoughts leave you completely as you keep paddling further and further, past all the other surfers… Until it’s only you. You take a deep, shaky breath as you watch the large swells of water forming. In front of you, a swell of water becomes bigger and bigger until it forms a great, majestic wave. You quickly turn around, getting ready to ride it. Everything is silent in your mind, everything is cold, as you stand up on your board with trembling legs. It doesn’t register that this wave is far beyond your ability to take on… Or maybe it does and you just can’t bring yourself to care….

* * * *

Elsa stands next to Chris and looks back out at the water, trying to spot Y/n. After looking for a moment and not seeing her, she notices someone far beyond the other surfers, beginning to ride a huge wave. She squints her eyes, tilting her head slightly to the side. A silent gasp separates her lips and she grips her husband’s large bicep. Elsa whispers,

“Is that Y/n out there…?”

Chris looks down at his wife, then to where her eyes are fixed out towards the water. He’s about to ask where exactly to look, but then he sees her. Y/n.

“What is she doing… It’s too big for her… It’s too big!”

Chris rushes forward and grabs his surf board.

“Chris! What are you doing?”

He doesn’t look at Elsa, but instead throws his words over his shoulder as he begins running towards the water.

“She’s going to get herself killed!”

* * * *

You wobble on your board and your eyes widen as you realize the gravity of what you’re doing. You’re heart starts beating frantically as you try not to crash into the wall of water you’re riding. What were you thinking? Oh, right. You weren’t. You feel like you’re right on the edge of losing control, of leaning too much to one side or the other and you realize that you might not make it back from this. The realization feels like a punch to the gut, knocking all the air from your lungs. You gasp painfully, trying to draw in air, but a choked, dry sob is the closest thing you get. You may never see him again. Any of them again… And that terrifies you. The further your thoughts drift from the task of not crashing, the more you lose balance. You whimper as you struggle to stay upright. The board turns sharply with the rushing water, causing your body to twist with it. Time slows down as you feel your feet begin to leave the surface of the board and you turn your head towards shore, desperately searching for one, last glimpse… A hot tear burns your cold, wet skin as it spills over your bottom lid, cascading down your cheek before you violently collide with the onslaught of water around you.

* * * *

Chris watches as Y/n crashes into the wave that engulfs her. He stops paddling for a moment, processing the scene.

“No!”

He starts paddling even harder, now that his fear has been confirmed. He duck dives under the wave you were just riding and comes up on the other side. Chris looks around frantically for you, and when he spots your board, he quickly swims over to it. He goes under water, eyes wide open, looking for you. You aren’t connected to the leash of your board and when he sees this, he begins to feel a cold sense of dread settle in his gut. He keeps looking around, searching for any sign of you, but finds nothing. He comes up for air, takes a deep breath and goes under again. He starts swimming in the direction the wave went, looking to see if you got caught rolling in its current. When his lungs begin to burn, panic starts to take over. You’ve been under too long, even if he does find you, you’d be- His eyes suddenly catch sight of a hand, followed by an arm. Chris swims purposely, closer and closer until all of you fills his vision. You’re floating there, so serene, with your (h/l) (h/c) hair dancing around your face calmly, despite everything. He quickly closes the distance between you and wraps his arms around your limp body. He kicks his legs harshly, willing himself to go faster. You both break the surface of the water a moment later and Chris gasps deeply before frantically looking down at you. You weren’t breathing. He shakes you a bit, bringing one of his hands up to touch your face.

“Y/n… Come on, come on…”

Your head rolls back, leaving just your face above water. Chris exclaims with fear when you don’t respond and quickly swims over to his board with you in his arms. He tries to ignore the dead weight of your body against his and hurries to place you on top of his surfboard before he starts kicking with all his might towards shore. He glances back when he feels water begin to lift him up and notices the wave that is now behind him. He hastily climbs up on the board, crouches down and holds you securely as he lets the wave carry you both closer to the beach. When he’s close enough to touch the sand with his feet, he jumps off the board and starts running as fast as he can through the water. Elsa, up ahead, is making her way towards you both.

“Chris!”

“Elsa, she’s not breathing!”

Elsa gasps, bringing a hand up to her heart while muttering prayers in Spanish. Chris pushes the surfboard out of the water and through the sand, before kneeling down beside you. He looks up at Elsa, sitting on her knees by your head, with a face twisted in fear. She mirrors his expression and he quickly looks back down at you before folding his hands together and placing them in between your breast, pressing down harshly.

“Come on, Y/n…” He continues the motion, pressing down again and again and again. Nothing happens… your chest remains terribly still. He blinks back tears as he moves his hands up to your face. He tips your head back, pinches your nose closed and opens your mouth with his large, calloused thumb. He stares down at your ghostly, still face and draws in a shuddering breath.

“Please, Y/n…”

He leans down and places his warm lips over your icy ones, exhaling his life into you. One breath, two, three… He pulls away, sees you still laying motionless, and exclaims brokenly.

“Come on Y/n! Don’t do this!”

He pumps his hands on your chest again, trying to ignore Elsa’s muffled cries next to him and the crowd of people that have gathered around you. Tears drip off his nose as he begins shouting with each compression, his voice breaking beyond his control.

“Come on, Y/n! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare do this! Come on! Come on!”

He bends down, placing his lip over yours again, and begins blowing hot air into you. Once, twice- your back arches up suddenly, as your body starts convulsing and Chris quickly leans back.

* * * *

You start choking on the water that’s trying to expel its self from your lungs and you feel large hands turn you onto your side. Your throat burns as you cough up the remaining salt water and you start taking deep breaths, causing you to notice how badly your chest aches. Someone suddenly takes you into their arms, cradling you. You groan weakly, resting your head on the warm wall of muscle surrounding you, and begin to open your eyes. Everything you see is a blurry grey and you have to blink a few times before your vision clears. The first face you notice is the one right above yours, looking at you with unmasked worry and relief.

“Chris..?”

Tears are running down his flushed face and he lifts you up enough for him to place his head in the crook of your neck while tightening his hold on you. You can feel him trembling as he tries to muffle his sobs and soon Elsa joins the hug, wrapping her arms around you both while placing kisses on each of your heads. You bring one of your shaking hands up to Chris’ head and brush the side of his face, dragging your fingers lightly through his hair.

“Thank you, Chris…”

You lightly kiss his cheek before closing your eyes and relaxing into his hold, pretending, just for a moment, that this was something more…

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth imagine #chris hemsworth one-shot #chris hemsworth x reader #elsa pataky #thor x reader #thor imagine #thor one-shot #surfing #drowning #platonic reader #unrequited love #angst

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marvelhiddlestan · 7 years

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Hide and Seek (Part Two)

Wow wow wow wow thank you guys for the great response to part one, I definitely wasn’t expecting it! Hope you like this chapter just a much :)

Summary:

Y/N meets wealthy photographer Tom Hiddleston and becomes hugely infatuated with him and his charm. She lets him whisk her away to wonderful places, to meet fascinating people and introduces her to a new, beautiful way of life filled with crisp white bed sheets, ocean view houses, limitless glasses of champagne and pure luxury. But when the money and leisure lands Tom into trouble with some bad people, he panics and leaves Y/N to her own devices. Heartbroken and afraid, she gathers what money she can find and moves to a small apartment complex in Brooklyn, where she meets goofy and sweet bartender Sebastian. Y/N and Seb fall for each other hard and fast, both of them seeing a bright future ahead of them. This is all cut short when Tom finds Y/N, telling her three things. One, he still loves her. Two, he’s still in trouble. Three, now she is too. And so is everyone around her. As well as now having to stay alive, she has to choose between the two men that mean the world to her.

Pairing(s): photographer!Tom x Reader and bartender!Sebastian x Reader.

Warnings? strong language, drinking, smoking, tons of fluff and romantic shit, violence, implied smut.

Requests are open for Marvel characters and actors, btw :)

A/N: I’m really sorry that this one is so long x

*not my gifs*

part 1 | part 2

My head spins as I wake up to the same thing that I’ve seen for the past two days. An empty left side of the bed. I haven’t really left the hotel room since Tom did. Barely eaten. Barely slept and when I have slept, it’s only been a couple of hours at a time. I’ve secluded myself and shut off from the outside world, because what’s the point? Three and a half years centered around one man and now he’s gone, so what’s the damn point? I think I’ve been waiting here on the slight off-chance that he might come back. I mean, he has to, right? He has to, it’s me, he wouldn’t just abandon me like this, he can’t, it’s me, it’s us…

Us.

Doesn’t seem like a real word anymore. Has no meaning. Just empty letters. Tom wouldn’t pull something like this if it wasn’t true, he’s not one to scare me. I don’t want reasoning, I don’t want an explanation, I just want him back. I wouldn’t care if he just walked in right now with a paper under one arm and drinks in either hand, in his white button-up and blue slacks like he always does. I’d wake up late as the sun soaks through the drapes and Tom would stroll in with his camera around his neck and some form of baked good for breakfast and everything would be okay.

But it’s not. It’s not okay. Nothing is okay. Everything is very far from okay. So very, very far.

Okay, come on Y/N, you’re a strong, independent woman, you aren’t going to sit around doing nothing, you’re getting your shit together and going home. Back to LA. I’ll probably get there and he’ll be at home panicking and I’ll see him and I’ll tell him that it’s all going to be okay and whatever trouble he’s in can be resolved.

I spring to my feet and grab my laptop from a table across the room, heading straight for a travel agent website and buying a plane ticket back to LA. I enter all of the necessary bank details, desperately sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation as I wait for everything to be cleared.

And that’s when my heart truly sinks.

We’re sorry, but we can not accept this bank account as it has been declined. Please try another card. Thank You.

No, that’s not right… in a quick panic, I open a new tab and go straight to my mine and Tom’s shared bank account. Completely empty.

Not only has he left me all alone in a place that’s so utterly strange to me, but he’s left me with nothing to my name except for my clothes, my laptop and a singular note.

I shakily shut the lid as tears spill from my eyes and my legs go week while it feels as though the ground beneath my feet collapses. My chest tightens, my lungs begin to burn and my heart pounds uncontrollably as my entire world and everything I know crumbles around me. How could all of this happen within such a short space of time? How could so much change so fast?

My knees drop to the floor and I hunch over, resulting in me turning into this huge ball of tears and despair, not knowing what to do or how to handle myself because of this… this mess, this massive, unfortunate, awful turn of events that could quite possibly be my worst nightmare. In fact, that’s exactly what it is. My very worst nightmare playing out right in front of my eyes. I let out a pained scream that releases a lot of the tension and hurt that I’ve kept caged within my body for these past couple of days, not bothering to care if people outside the hotel room can hear me, because why should I? Why should I care if Connie down the hall is getting pissed off at my crying when my entire fucking life is falling apart?

As soon as I manage to muster up the energy to move, I crawl over to the bedside table and grab my phone, dialing the one number I’m certain will be able to help.

After a few rings, they pick up.

“Hello?”

“Chris?” I sob a lot louder than I intended to.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Chris frets.

Everything.

“It’s Tom, he’s gone, he left, I don’t know what to do, he left me Chris.. he left me..” I blurt out, my words eventually becoming inaudible.

“Okay, okay, I need you to calm down for a second. Everything’s going to be fine, alright? Slow down, take me through it.” He replies in his soothing Australian drawl.

After taking a few breaths and coughing a couple of times to clear my throat, my heart rate slows and my crying minimizes.

“It was the other day, I woke up alone so I just thought he’d gone out for a run and picked up breakfast so I just went back to sleep and thought nothing of it. I woke up again two hours later and he still wasn’t there, but I hadn’t seen the note before. It just said that he was in trouble and he couldn’t say why, but he’s gone. So after reading that, I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just stayed inside for these past couple of days hoping he’d come back for me, but he didn’t so I thought I’d just buy a ticket home and see if he was there, but I was declined. So I checked the bank account and it’d been drained,” I explain. “I don’t know what to do Chris. I don’t have any money, I just barely know where I am and Tom… he’s deserted me. What do I do without him? What am I supposed to do now?”

Chris sighs deeply and takes a moment before answering, really trying to think of a solution.

“Okay… alright, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to lend you the money to get home, you’re going to get on a plane and stay with us until he gets back, okay? Because he will. He will come back.”

Tom’s POV.

After days of mindless travelling, I eventually pull into Chris and Elsa’s driveway, unsure of where else to go, my mind pulsating with millions of other thoughts. I stumble out of the black Jaguar and run up to the door, pounding on it relentlessly until I’m greeted by Elsa, who’s warm smile is soon succeeded by a concerned expression.

“Tom? Tom darling, what’s wrong?” She frets.

“Elsa, I don’t have a lot of time, I need some help.” I blurt out.

She hurriedly ushers me inside, but lingers around the front door, looking and waiting. I can only assume for her.

I sit on the couch and stressfully rub my face, trying to get my head into some kind of order. Elsa kneels directly in front of me and comfortingly places a hand on my knee.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me, you know you can. Chris is only upstairs too, we can get him down here if you feel more comfortable-”

“No, no… it’s okay. I’m in a lot of trouble. I owe a lot of money to some really awful people and I… fucked up. So, so bad.” I begin to sob, occasionally biting down on my knuckles to prevent tears.

Elsa frowns lightly, but her expression drops as soon as she looks around the vicinity and notices something missing.

“Tom… where’s Y/N?” She asks in a shaky voice.

I look up at her in complete guilt and sorrow, which she reads correctly straight away. She snatches her hand back and covers her mouth as she gasps, shooting to her feet in shock.

“You left her didn’t you? You… you left her alone in Sao fucking Paulo, didn’t you, you spineless bastard!” She screams as she slaps my arms reapeatedly until Chris appears and stops her.

“What the hell is going on!?” Chris booms as he drags Elsa off of me.

“Tell him! Tell him what you did to her!” Elsa cries out as soon as she stops attacking me.

Chris stares at me expectantly, waiting desperately for an answer, but then something in his head clicks and he’s figured everything out.

“No Tom, not him… the money?”

“Yeah,” I cough out, “yeah, the money. I owe him too mu-”

“How much?” Chris snarls.

“That’s not important-”

“How much fucking money, Tom!?” He bellows, not taking any more of my excuses.

“Fine! Five-hundred grand.” I reply in a guttural tone.

The two of them gasp and yell incoherently, making my mental state all the more messy and unstable.

“You don’t have five hundred grand, Tom!” Chris yells.

“I know I don’t! Do you seriously think that if I did, I’d be in this situation!? They’re going to kill me if I can’t get that money, Chris. I’m not safe.” I tell him, almost easing his anger towards the money (or therefore lack of) and concerning him about my own mortality.

He takes a seat while Elsa paces around, unsure of what to say anymore, and to be quite honest, I don’t blame her. I’m rather high on the world’s list of worst people because of what I did to Y/N. I know I never should have left her, but I couldn’t put her in this kind of danger, not if my life is at stake.

Well, rather my life than her’s, right? I’d prefer mine to be the blood that gets spilled instead.

All of a sudden, Chris’s phone begins to ring, startling all three of us in the process. He sighs and reaches over to the coffee table to answer it, but freezes as he sees the caller I.D.

“What? Who is it?” I panic, fearing that the person on the other line could be searching for me.

Instead of replying to me, he answers the phone and looks me dead in the eyes.

“Hello?”

There’s a slight screech on the other end that sounds vaguely familiar, but there isn’t enough of it for me to really recognise it.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

At the sound of her name, the entire world stands still and my heart comes to a complete halt, and that’s when I hear it. The heartbroken wailing, the pained cries, the sobbing of my name. It’s her… My soul is completely crushed as she spills her sorrows out to Chris and he shakes his head in utter disappointment.

“Okay, okay, I need you to calm down for a second. Everything’s going to be fine, alright? Slow down, take me through it.”

As she explains the unfortunate events of the last couple of days, Chris cringes and scowls at the indecencies I’ve committed.

When she finishes, he sighs deeply, taking his eyes off of me and concentrating on how to reassure Y/N.

“Okay… alright, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to lend you the money to get home, you’re going to get on a plane and stay with us until he gets back, okay? Because he will.” Chris’s eyes land back on me and this time, he doesn’t look at me in disappointment, he doesn’t look at me in anger, but he looks at me expectantly.

“He will come back.”

Y/N’s POV.

Plane rides aren’t fun at the best of times, let alone when you’re returning to a hollow home. Especially when you have to spend twelve and half hours in a giant tin bird thinking about how the love of your life left you for dead in a foreign country. Cheery, right? The ride from the airport to Chris and Elsa’s LA home wasn’t much better as the inevitable truth of walking into my empty house to fetch my clothes and possessions and the beginning of the moving-out process fast approaches.

I tried to empty the house, I really did. But too many memories came flooding back. Memories like Tom cooking breakfast in the morning as I wake up and me walking into the kitchen and wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. Memories like the lazy, hungover, sleepy sex among the disarrayed white sheets after countless parties. Memories like me stealing Tom’s camera and taking pictures of him while he was off-guard, but then he’d realise what I was doing and smile bashfully while covering his face. Memories like first moving in and dancing to ‘The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra when all of the boxes were unpacked and we were finally settled in. All of those things rushed through me as soon as I stepped through the front door and the emotions made me crumble. Chris had to help me back into the car because my legs were trembling as I sobbed. We got back to the Hemsworth home, but as we moved my things into the house, I noticed that they’d obviously forgotten to take down the photographs of all of us together and everything just started again. That’s when I decided that I couldn’t stay with them. I couldn’t even stay in LA anymore. As much as I love Chris, Elsa, Tristan, Sasha and India, they all remind me of Tom and all of the great times we had together. I can’t possibly live with that constant reminder.

I sat with Chris and Elsa and few days after we’d taken all of my possessions from the house that I’d decided to gather all of my money from my savings and move to Brooklyn, one of the few places I hadn’t been with Tom. I transferred Chris the money he had lent me for the flight and car, said my goodbyes and headed to my Mom’s place while I job and house hunted. I took the first apartment I could find, simply so I could get away from my mother’s constant ‘I told you so’s’ and ‘he was never good enough’s’. He was good enough. He was always good enough. But he just… stopped being good enough one day. That’s all.

So here I am. Boxes unpacked. Sheets on the bed. Furniture set up. I want to call the style of my new apartment ‘minimalistic’, but in reality, I’m just broke. I can’t even afford anything other than a new coffee table. Everything else came from the furniture I had from my apartment before I met Tom, which luckily, my mother saved and put in her attic. Thankfully, I’ll be able to afford this place because my old job has an office in Crown Heights and they agreed to have me back, thank God. I may have begged and grovelled a little, but that’s not important. I mean, returning to the same dead end job that made me leave to travel in the first place isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing. It’s money. Something that four months ago, I never thought I’d be lacking.

I actually start the new old job tomorrow, which is both depressing and refreshing. Depressing because after years of trying to write a novel, I have no choice but to be confined to a cubicle and write local fluff pieces that not even Fox News would call real journalism. Refreshing because I guess it’ll be nice to actually work for once. When I was writing while travelling with Tom, I never actually got the chance to do anything, due to being pulled away to parties or business dinners, and when I did finally get the chance to sit down and write, there wasn’t a trace of inspiration. I had nothing important to write about and as a writer, if you don’t have anything important to write about, then there’s no point in writing at all. Plus, I had no deadline, so there was nothing pushing me, there was no motivation.

It’d be nice to have some motivation back.

“Bathroom is down the hall, cafeteria is two floors up, copy room is two doors to the left of your cubicle. Sound good?” My new boss Richard carelessly points around the office, indicating to me that he clearly doesn’t give two shits about me or what I do. I don’t think he’s even looked up from his phone since I stepped into his office. Charming.

After collecting some files from Richard’s assistant, I sit at my cubicle and… well, I don’t know. This has become all so unfamiliar to me. I guess I could start on my segment about the local fire station? I know, my career is on fire. I begin to sift through the files when a smiley blonde woman with happy green eyes slides next to me on her desk chair.

“Hi! You must be this new writer everyone’s been talking about.”

“People have been talking about me?” I ask with wide eyes in discomfort.

“Only because this place is so boring. You’re the first new employee we’ve had in like, two years. That’s what counts as excitement around here. Place isn’t so hot.” She sighs. “Oh! I’m Elizabeth, by the way. I mean, nobody actually calls me Elizabeth, everybody calls me Lizzie, so I guess you can too if you want.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, “great to meet you. I’m Y/N.” I tell her, but she smiles knowingly. “But you already knew that too, didn’t you?” I laugh.

“Yeah, kinda. I’m sorry, there’s just literally nothing to do. The stories that come in are crappy and are usually only an over-night job, the other people that work here are miserable as sin, the boss is a creep and the cafeteria staff are starting to judge me for hanging around there for so long.” Lizzie rambles, lightening my mood and lifting my spirits a little. “So, did you transfer from a different office?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I just moved to Brooklyn, actually.” I reply, trying to move around the issue of ‘I haven’t had a job in four years’.

“Oh really? Where did you live before?” She asks.

“Um… just around. Here and there.” I explain vaguely, which Lizzie sees straight through.

“You don’t trust me very much, do you?”

I scoff lightly, looking at my slightly trembling hands caused by my newfound anxieties.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. I don’t trust anyone very much.” I shrug with sad eyes, remembering the last time I trusted someone and how well that ended up for me.

“I understand. New strange place? Totally get it. Do you know anyone in the area?”

“Nope, not at all. As it stands, I’m one hundred per-cent friend-free.”

Lizzie smiles brightly and places a hand on my shoulder.

“Not anymore you’re not.”

FOUR MONTHS LATER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m late, fuck, fuck, fuck. Not just two or three minutes late either. An hour late. An hour. Crap.

After running from the elevator to the office, I try to casually walk over to my desk as if I’m on time and I definitely did not accidentally put my car keys in the blender this morning.

When I’m sat at my desk, I’m greeted by a purple post-it note covered in fluent, flicked handwriting.

“I have a plan for tonight!xx L”

I furrow my brows in curiosity, then looking back at Lizzie’s desk, only to discover her grinning mischievously.

“Oh God, what?” I groan with a chuckle.

Lizzie excitedly stands to her feet and hurries over, stealing the chair from the vacant desk to my left.

“You’ve been working your ass off for a month straight on that bankruptcy story, yes?”

“That’s correct.” I reply without missing a beat, still a little skeptical of her intentions.

“You’ve been working late for twenty-four days straight. Also correct?”

“It is… what are you getting at, Olsen?” I sigh suspiciously.

Lizzie flashes her infamous troublesome smile, her excitement visibly bubbling internally as she makes her proposal.

“Let’s go out for drinks tonight! You’ve been working really hard and you deserve a break! One of my best friends works at this bar across town and I thought it might be time that you got out. And maybe made more than one friend. Even though the one friend you do have is brilliant, so I don’t blame you for just keeping to her.” She rambles and continues to do so until I interrupt her.

“If I say yes, will you stop talking and take a breath before you pass out?” I joke.

Lizzie giggles and throws her hands up in surrender.

“All you had to do. What time do you get off?”

“Around four, I think.”

“Great. I finish a little later, but are you okay for me to pick you up at seven? Sound good?” She asks.

“Sounds like a date,” I chuckle, “but, yes. That’s fine.”

“You could use a damn date.” Lizzie rolls her eyes and returns to her desk just as Richard strolls over to out desk-area.

He stands beside me as I pretend to look through some paperwork that had been left on my desk, not bothering to announce himself, he just stares over my shoulder, his breath unpleasantly tickling the back of my neck.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office for a moment, please?” He finally asks, his voice greasy and slick.

“Of course.” I comply reluctantly, then standing tup and following him to his office, not before rolling my eyes towards Lizzie and her mirroring my actions.

We get to his office and Richard motions to a chair on the other side of his desk as he sits down, so I politely take a seat.

“So, Y/N. I know you’ve only been here for a couple of weeks-”

“Sir, I’ve been working here for four months.” I point out.

“You have?” He tilts his head to the side ignorantly.

“Uh, yeah. I have,” I flash a fake smile. The alternative is punching him in his smug face and losing my job. “I just actually just published that piece on the senator going bankrupt.”

“Ah, that was you! Well thank you for that.” He smirks, and I catch his eyes traveling down to my chest, causing me to shift in my seat uncomfortably and clear my throat. “So, anyways. I appreciate the work you did on that, but unfortunately I can’t let that little mishap you pulled this morning slip.”

“I’m sorry, ‘mishap’?” I repeat.

“You were late. We don’t do late around here.” He shakes his head.

“Last week you were five hours late because you were hungover, Sir.” I shoot back, my tone less than courteous.

Richard chuckles again, playing with a stress ball from his desk as he leans back in his chair. He locks his eyes on me and raises an eyebrow.

“I like you. You’ve got a certain feistiness to you that really makes me want to not fire you.”

“How generous.” I quip.

“Listen, you’re fine for now. Looks like you’ve only been late this once. However, I can’t exactly let it slide, so I want you to work a little later tonight.”

Perfect. The one chance I get to actually have a good time and my jackass of a boss ruins it. Just perfect.

“Of course. What time can I leave?” I ask, desperate to get out of here already, let alone later than I have to.

“Eight alright?”

No, it’s fucking not.

“Sure.”

“Excellent.”

Eat a dick, Richard.

Eight o’clock finally rolls round and I don’t think I’ve ever walked out of anywhere quicker. I say my goodbyes to our floor’s cleaner Tasha, grab some files and head for the elevator. The doors close and as I begin my descent, I reflect back over my long, long day. The day I met Lizzie, she told me that the boss is a creep and boy she wasn’t kidding. The way he kept looking at me sent shivers of discomfort down my spine. I would always catch him staring at me through the windows of his office, never subtle in the slightest. Even if he noticed me catch him looking at me, he wouldn’t stop looking. I hate my job.

After getting home way later than anticipated, I throw my keys into the bowl on my coffee table ad collapse onto my couch. Moments later, my phone buzzes and Lizzie’s name flashes upon the screen with a text containing an address.

The bar.

I completely forgot.

My fatigue fights with my urge to have a good time, with my urges winning the battle. I get up and walk over to my wardrobe with determination, because I’ll be damned if my job gets in the way of my personal life.

I’m not exactly sure what the dress code is for ‘night out in a Brooklyn bar with some people I don’t know’ is, but thankfully, I have Lizzie to solve that problem for me. After asking her what to wear, she replies within seconds telling me that she’s wearing a cropped shirt with some skinny jeans and heels, followed by:

“look slutty, but not like you’re trying to ;) x”

I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I have an outfit that perfectly fits that description. Almost. Only almost because I look extremely hot in this outfit and that’s definitely not something I’m ashamed of. I reach into the wardrobe and pull out a gorgeous low-cut deep blue shirt that definitely compliments certain assets, if you know what I mean. Pairing that with the nicest pair of black jeans that I own and some strapped black heels that I bought when I first moved here.

Finally, after re-doing my makeup and trying way too hard to squeeze into those jeans, I text Lizzie to let her know I’m on my way. Luckily for me, the infamous Brooklyn traffic is laying low tonight, which not only gives me the chance to get to the bar quickly and smoothly, but to also appreciate the city around me. It’s subtle, compared to LA, which sounds odd because it’s New York and on the list of least subtle places on Earth, New York is certainly in the top five.But there’s something about it… like the people here don’t actually care what anyone thinks. The people here are themselves as opposed to the huge charade everyone in LA is keeping up. Sort of depressing, really.

After twenty minutes, I pull up outside a bar with an obnoxious sign above the door that reads “O’Neil’s”. To make sure I’m not being an utter idiot, I call Lizzie to double-check that I’m at the right place.

“Hellooooooo?” Lizzie answers after no more than two rings and is very clearly tipsy.

“Hey, I think I’m here. ‘O’Neil’s’?” I ask.

“That’s the one! The other two haven’t arrived yet, so I’m glad you’re here,” the line becomes a lot louder and she mumbles something to another person about saving her seat and watching her drink; presumably this other friend, “listen, I’m going to the bathroom, so just wait at the bar for me, okay?” She instructs when she returns.

“Sure, see you in a minute.” I smile at her intoxicated state and hang up.

Just as I’m about to set the phone back in my pocket, it sets off again.

“Hello?” I answer, not bothering to check the caller I.D.

“Y/N? Hi, it’s Richard. Going to need you to work pretty late for the next month. Can’t chat. See you on Monday.”

When he hangs up, I can do nothing but stare at the phone in stunned silence.

“Motherfucker!” I yell after a moment.

I shove my phone in my bag and storm inside. I sulk over to the bar and immediately hang my head in my hands, regretting most, if not every decision I’ve made. Never should’ve gone to Greece. Never should’ve gone with Tom. Never should’ve quit. Never should’ve moved to LA.

“Tough day?” A voice sounds amidst my self-pity-party.

I look up and meet a pair of soft blue eyes that sparkle even under the dim bar lighting. Blue eyes that I could get lost in and wouldn’t mind if I could never find my way back. These eyes belong to possibly the most beautiful bartender I’ve ever seen. His jaw line and cheekbones are perfectly structured and his skin is graced with perfectly kept stubble. He has thick, messy brown hair that frames his gorgeous, gorgeous face perfectly.

“I, uh… yeah. Yeah, kinda.” I stumble over my words due to being completely astounded by his immaculate features.

“I can help you there. What can I get you?” He asks with a warm smile.

“Whatever can make me forget the majority of my day.” I scoff and rub my forehead in exhaustion.

“Gotcha. So, mind if I ask what’s got you so down?” The bartender queeries while pouring multiple drinks into a glass.

“What, today or in the last five years?” I chuckle lowly.

“Either, I got all night.” He grins softly.

“All honesty?”

“All honesty.”

“Okay… uh, long story short, I get a stable job as a travel journalist, take a trip to Greece, meet the man I thought I was going to marry, live with him in L.A for two years, he gets scared and abandons me in Sao Paulo, my friends have to give me the money to get back to L.A, it suddenly occurs to me that I can no longer stay in our house because the memories of him cripple me, so I dig into my savings, move to a shitty apartment in Brooklyn, somehow manage to get a job, miraculously gain just one singular friend, then it turns out my boss is a demanding creep that just wants to stare and my tits all day and when he’s not doing that, he’s staring at my ass and after learning that I need to work late for yet another month… here I am.” I sigh sadly.

The bartender seems taken aback by my ridiculously unbelievable story.

“Wow. That’s dramatic.” He says sympathetically and places my drink in front of me.

“Isn’t it?” I chuckle dryly, then going on to take a sip of the ridiculously strong cocktail.

“You got a name?” He asks.

“Sure do. Y/N,” I tell him. “And you?” I cough, desperately trying to keep the strong drink down.

“Sebastian. Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles.

I raise my drink slightly and grin hopelessly.

“Likewise.“

“So what brings you to the utopia that is O’Neil’s?” He asks, clearly noticing that talking about my morose past might not be the best idea.

“I’m actually meeting that only friend of mine.” I tell him while I mindlessly twiddle the umbrella in my drink.

As soon as I tell him this, Lizzie appears next to me and lets out a deep breath.

“Stan, did you hold my drink?” She asks Sebastian, throwing me off a little. They know each other? Wait…

“One of my best friends works at this bar across town”

“Of course I did, your highness.” Sebastian reaches underneath the bar and gives Lizzie a glass of what I can only presume is whiskey.

“Speaking of being high,” Lizzie takes a sip of her drink, “the others here yet?” She adds.

“Not in the five minutes since you last asked me, Liz.” He chuckles.

“God, don’t call me Liz, it makes me sound fifty,” she laughs and looks towards me, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, Y/N, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Y/N.”

Sebastian and I look at each other and giggle a little.

“We actually already met while you were in the bathroom. Turns out you can learn a lot about a person in the space of forty seconds.” He laughs.

“Whatever, you weirdos. Now that I’m not the only one here and a certain someone was being a pussy about it, time to do some shots!” Lizzie gleefully cheers.

“I wasn’t being a pussy, you know I’m not allowed to drink on the job.” Sebastian defends himself.

“You fucking liar, you always have a beer hidden behind that bar of your’s.” Lizzie gasps in an accusing manner.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and retrieves two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila, then placing them in front of us and filling the small cups to the very brim. Lizzie lifts hers in a celebratory fashion and a little spills over the edge as she does so.

“To making new friends and to finally getting you out of the office!” She toasts happily.

“Here here!” I giggle and we both take the shots, the tequila leaving a trail of a burning sensation down my throat.

Lizzie slams the glass down on the bar and I follow her actions, making Sebastian clap and laugh in hysterics at our pre-drunken antics. Before we know it, Sebastian has already poured new shots and is looking at us expectantly.

“Trying to get us drunk? Risky move, bartender.” I raise my eyebrows jokingly.

“Alcohol brings the truth in people out. Always interesting.” Sebastian winks at me.

Suddenly, we hear the door open, followed by two male voices in a heated debate, causing to turn around in curiosity.

“Anthony, let me list all of the reasons why you’re wrong.” The taller of the two says.

“It’ll be a damn short list, I’ll tell you that.” The other argues.

“Do you two have to make a scene every time you walk into my bar?” Sebastian groans.

“No, because it’s not your bar.” Anthony points out, making Lizzie, the other guy, and myself laugh.

The two men take a seat either side of Lizzie and myself and both order themselves a beer each.

I catch the incredibly well-build blonde man sat next to Lizzie looking me up and down with a smirk, but has to drag his eyes away from me when Sebastian hands him his beer, causing me to smile a little. I’ve been single for close to eight months now and not one attractive person has looked at me like they want me… it’s been a while, but I still have standards.

“Alright, you guys needs to get a booth or a table or something, you’re crowding the bar.” Sebastian shoos us away.

“Fine, fine. Join us when you’re done? Please, Sebby?” Lizzie pleads.

“How do you know I haven’t got better things to do? That I don’t have a life?” Sebastian argues.

“Because, Sexy Seabass, we are your life.” Anthony sighs before sauntering off to a nearby booth.

I grab my bag that I had previously placed on the bar and hop off my stool. I pick up the drink that Sebastian had poured out for me and flash him a friendly smile.

“I guess it was really nice to know you and meet you in that order, Y/N.” Sebastian laughs.

“Nice to meet you too, Sebastian.” I reply.

“You can call me Seb. The others do. Looks like Lizzie likes you and I don’t find you all that bad, so I imagine you’ll be hanging around with us a lot more.”

I smile happily at the thought of actually having decent friends, looking towards the booth containing Lizzie and the other two guys, then back to Sebastian.

“Sounds good to me. You okay with seeing more of me, Seb?” I ask.

“That’s more than okay with me, doll.” He smirks, leaning against the bar.

We stand with those goofy smiles on our faces for a few moments until a man with a Bostonian accent tells Sebastian to ‘do his fucking job right’, and he gets back to work, so I stroll over to the booth and join the other three.

Lizzie is sat next to the blond, so I slide in next to Anthony.

“So Lizzie, you’re not going to introduce us?” Anthony asks her after moments of none of us saying anything.

“Oh my God, I keep doing that, I’m so sorry! Y/N, this is Anthony,” she gestures to the man next to me. We exchange kind, smiley greetings and shake hands. “And this jackass,” she points to the attractive blond, “is Chris.”

Chris? Another Chris? Is this some kind of cruel joke that the universe is playing on me?

“Ah, crap.” I groan subconsciously, then covering my mouth after hearing myself. “Oh god, I said that out loud didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I just knew another Chris a really long time ago and stuff got complicated-”

“Hey hey hey, chill! It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s cool. Nice to meet you.” Chris stops me from rambling and gestures for me to shake his hand, to which I kindly accept.

“Alright, so we clearly aren’t drunk enough,” Anthony announces, “I say we change that, don’t you?”

“Definitely. Round of tequila shots, on me.” I offer.

“Oh, I like her.” Chris says.

“You’ll like drunk me even more.” I wink as I make my way up to the bar.

Strolling up, I see that Sebastian is chatting to some women (who are shamelessly flirting with him, by the way), so I wait patiently at the bar, but he soon sees me and excuses himself from the flock that he’s attracted.

“Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Sebastian cockily smiles.

“Mm, I couldn’t stay away.” I joke back.

“More shots?” Seb asks.

“More shots.” I confirm.

“You know,” he begins as he pours out the tequila, “I’d be careful of Chris when he gets drunk. He’s an ass man, and he gets friendly after a few drinks. Don’t get me wrong, he’s all fluff and in no way a creep, but it’s just a heads up. Mackie is loud. Like, loud loud. Lizzie just gets more ditzy than she already is, so you’ll be fine with her-”

“And what about you?” I interrupt, “do I need to be careful of you?”

Seb sets down the bottle and lets out a dry chuckle before looking up at me while playfully biting his lip.

“Do you want to be?” He asks in a low voice, pushing the tray of salt, shots and lime slices towards me.

“Careful isn’t really my thing.”

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