#anyway so i hate answering my phone lol. i only turn off the screening setting if i’m expecting a call | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

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ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ _____________________

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’s!ʙᴇsᴛ!ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs ᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Buck have always been close growing up but you two soon learn that the line that separates friendly and flirting is a lot thinner than you think.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fluff, slight angst bc u got a shit bf, big bro vibes from bucky, smut duh [18+ minors dni (slight praise but also slight degradation, marking, belly bulge, squirting, fem!rec oral, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl, slight choking, pet names: darling&princess, i think that’s it lmk plz)]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey assholes i'm back for the time being lol. I have a few ideas and fics I'm currently writing right now so do not fret.

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You knew this was a horrible idea.

It’s Saturday night and you and your boyfriend were back in another night club after being kicked out from one just hours before. Daniel had gotten too drunk, as he always does, causing you to kindly ask the bartender to cut him off. Daniel didn’t take that too lightly resulting in a gnarly swing at the poor guy just doing his job.

Security threw you out and Daniel called an Uber to go where you thought was going to be your apartment but twenty minutes later you pulled up to another club practically on the other side of town. You yelled at Daniel but he pushed aside stumbling inside for yet even more drinks and mistakes waiting for him inside.

You sat at the bar simply drinking some water and snacking on some peanuts keeping your eye on your garbage boyfriend. You're constantly checking the time on your phone, annoyed with every passing minute. It was 2 am and you just wanted to go home and sleep. You were even debating texting your brother Steve hoping you could just crash at his place not too far from where you were but it would be incredibly irresponsible to just leave Daniel in the state he’s in.

So you waited and waited and waited. Your eyelids felt heavy and your energy was just completely drained. You were basically a zombie. It wasn’t until a guy approached your half asleep body that you felt a sense of alert. Daniel was shit-faced so you were practically defenseless.

“Hey,” the guy shouted over the music.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. My boyfriend’s-” you quickly said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit on you. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own,” he chuckled, making you breathe out in relief.

“Sorry,” you cringed at yourself.

“It’s alright; but uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You might want to check with your boyfriend,” he said sympathetically.

You pushed your way through the crowd scanning every face in search of Daniel. What did he do? Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble again? Is he getting arrested? Where is he-

“Daniel?” you said eyes tearing up a bit.

His arms were wrapped around another girl’s waist as he kissed her the way he kissed you. She practically moaned as their tongues slobbered disgustingly with each other. Their hips grinding against each other proactively as if you weren’t even there. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to rage, gripping Daniel’s short hairs and pulling his head away from whoever this girl was.

“What the fuck?” the girl complained, her eyes completely bloodshot.

“Did he tell you that he was here with his girlfriend tonight?” you're sad with gritted teeth. Daniel stumbled around still unable to register what the hell was happening.

“Oh my god, you forreal?” she said.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a prude anyway. I got more action with you than I did her in the past, what, six months?” Daniel slurred.

“You know what, you’re a fucking prick, dude. She deserves so much better than you; I bet your dick is small anyway,” the girl said.

“Fuck you too bitch,” Daniel spit.

“I can’t believe you,” you said.

“Oh, whoop-dee-doo, big fucking surprise. Babe, you’re a prude. Can’t you see it? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with you anymore,” he practically puked out the words without any second thought.

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, you fucking asshole,” you stormed away holding in the tears; he wasn’t worth it.

Almost three am and you just dumped your cheating lowlife boyfriend on the other side of town. Steve wasn’t answering his phone and you even wanna be near the club anymore. Walking speedily staring at your screen desperate to call an Uber home, you bumped harshly into a hard chest falling to the ground on your bum.

“Fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said helping you up by your elbows.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t looking- Bucky?”

“Oh, hey kid. What are you doing? It’s like three in the morning and you don’t live anywhere near here,” Bucky said, crossing his arms.

“Daniel got himself kicked from the one by our apartment and Ubered here instead.”

“So where’s Daniel?” Bucky scowled; he’s always hated that guy, so did Steve.

“Probably fucking some other chick in the bathroom,” your voice cracked.

“What?”

“It’s nothing; I just want to go home,” you cried.

“Hey, it’s ok; it’s ok. Do you wanna crash at me and Steve’s? He’s gone for the weekend with Peggy; you can stay in his room at least for the night,” Bucky offered; so that’s why Steve’s not answering his phone.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your night. I can just call an Uber, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Steve’ll kill me if he found out I left his baby sis alone in the streets of New York at three in the morning. It’s not a problem, we were just bar hopping and I stopped drinking ages ago.”

“Are you sure, Buck?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly at you.

“Hey, Nat!”

“What’s up?” a beautiful redhead approached you both.

“Gonna head home ; don’t do anything stupid,” he chuckled.

“You too,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Catch you Monday?”

“You’re stupid. I’ll see ya,” Bucky laughed before grabbing your hand and headed towards his apartment.

“Thanks again, Buck. For letting me stay here tonight,” you said once you entered his apartment.

It had been a while since you hung out at your brother’s apartment but nothing’s changed. Typical men and their inability to change even a throw pillow. You set your small bag on the couch before Bucky led you to Steve’s room. There were pictures of you and him posing at Steve’s graduation; and later your own. Pictures of Steve and Bucky at a theme park, during a bar-be-que for Steve’s birthday. So many memories that Steve held onto in his room.

“Time really flies doesn’t it?” Bucky said, slightly startling you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re fine. But you’re right. Feels all these pictures were taken yesterday,” you reminisced.

“I got you some clothes if you need to change; I’ll give you privacy,” Bucky said, slipping from the room briskly.

You sat on the bed frustrated with everything. Your body was so drained from being up so early in the night, to the fight with Daniel. The past couple months with him were so awful. He was just so mean to you all the time and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong? When did things shift?

"Is everything ok, darling?" Bucky asked quietly, knocking on the door when you hadn't come out after a while.

"What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me," you choked out.

Bucky sighed as he walked over to the bed sitting beside you before engulfing you in a warm hug. You cried into his shoulder and Bucky couldn't help the anger that bubbled inside him for your excuse of a boyfriend Daniel. He never got along with the guy and now he finally has a reason to knock his teeth in.

"You didn't do anything, I know it. That prick wouldn't know love if it hit him in the face. It's his loss. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Look at me, you're so beautiful and funny and fucking adorable; any guy who can't see how perfect you are, is a dense piece of shit."

"James," you whispered.

His words made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. But Bucky’s always had that effect on you. Even growing up. You weren’t going to sit there and pretend that hearing his words hadn't had a deeper effect than they would’ve coming from Daniel. Sometimes you wondered what being with Bucky would be like. You’re not the first to admit how handsome Bucky was and growing up you did have quite the crush on your brother’s best friend.

You don't know what it was, whether it was the alcohol still swimming through your veins, or just feeling so vulnerable being in Bucky's arms but you wanted him badly. You needed him, needed to feel something again. And you knew he could give it to you. You pressed your lips to his and in an instant his hands dropped to your hips pulling you impossibly close against his body. Your hands went to the back of his head as you kissed him messily. Your noses bumped and teeth clashed but it was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, your brother’s gonna kill me,” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself, as he slowly laid you down on your back.

Bucky’s hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then as he continued kissing you passionately. Your own hands couldn’t help but tug at his shirt desperately. When he did so, your breath was completely taken away. It had been years since you’d seen Bucky without a shirt.

Not only had he been quite skinny just like your brother back then, but not long after leaving for college with Steve he was in a bike accident that left him with ghastly scars and burns along his left arm and shoulder. Since then, it’s fair to say Bucky never really ever took his shirt off. It had taken years just for him to remove the glove he’d always wear to cover the scars on his hand.

“You’ve gotten so strong, James,” you grinned, reaching out to brush the flexed muscles running down his front.

He simply stared at you with an anticipating and anxious expression on his face, waiting for you to state the obvious. When you didn’t, when you pulled his head down to kiss him once again, he almost cried. Bucky hadn’t been with a woman in so long, afraid of this very moment. He knew at that moment, there was no one quite like you.

Bucky fell in love.

“Let me take care of you, darling. You’ve been so good to me,” Bucky whispered huskily in your ear as he trailed his hand under your own shirt brushing his fingertips along the underside of your breast.

His lips pressed softly against your hot skin along your neck before standing up between your legs at the end of the bed. He pulled your shirt off then played cheekily with the straps of your bra that you still had on. You smiled back at him with the same playful stare, reaching behind you to unclasp the material.

You could see the way Bucky’s eyes darken and his pupils widened as he stared in awe at your naked chest. Your skin bursted into chills under his hungry gaze even though you felt like you were burning up. Bucky leaned forward kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping once in a while playfully before laying you back down. He shimmied you out of your bottoms easily, kneeling on the ground leaving you completely bare before him.

“You are absolutely stunning, princess,” Bucky whispered, running his hands up your thighs slowly.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you,” he smirked devilishly.

He pushed your knees open, eyeing the arousal that glistened between your thighs. He brought his fingers up to you slowly rubbing your slick around before finally pushing a thick and long finger past your folds. Your body shuddered solely at the foreign but pleasurable feeling, already moaning softly.

Bucky’s cock strained through pants upon hearing your beautiful moans; they were like music to his ears. He couldn’t help the way his hips would buck into the mattress in a desperate attempt to relieve some pain from his erection. Soon after he pulled his fingers from you slowly only to thrust them further in you, curling his fingers just right.

He brought his mouth down to you, wrapping his lips around your clit sucking harshly. You gasped and your back arched, overwhelmed with pleasure Bucky was giving you with just his mouth and fingers. All the times that you’d given yourself to your ex, he had never made you feel this good before, feel this full; let alone with his fingers. Bucky was taking his time with you solely for your own pleasure and it made your heart swoon.

Your legs trapped Bucky’s head between your thighs, squeezing as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands went to his hair pulling on his dark locks causing Bucky to moan deeply against you. You were so close to a release; your legs shaking violently and your stomach tightening.

“Come on, princess. Want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Fuck!”

“Be a good girl and make a mess,” Bucky teased.

His fingers moved faster as he swirled his tongue around and over your clit just as quickly. You were becoming overwhelmed and that coil bursted in the pit of your stomach. You pushed Bucky’s face from you, shrieking with pure pleasure; Bucky’s kept the rapid pace with fingers as you fell over the edge.

“Fucking hell, that was so hot, princess,” Bucky said standing up; his fingers, arm, his chest was covered in your arousal.

“Did I do that?” your voice trembled.

“Because of me,” Bucky winked playfully.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you let your head fall back on the bed as you briefly caught your breath.

Bucky grabbed his shirt that he discarded not long ago and quickly wiped his chest and arm before discarding his pants and boxers. He nearly moaned at the feeling when he finally freed his dick from the restraining garments. His hand instantly wrapped around the base before pumping himself a few times.

You brought yourself onto your elbows momentarily ogling at the sight of Bucky completely bare before you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. Bucky crawled over you kissing you deeply and messily; but perfectly. He pulled away and you both had goofy smiles on your faces before bursting into a fit of giggles, Bucky’s head burying into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so goddamn adorable, princess,” Bucky’s voice was muffled.

“Bucky,” you whined.

You couldn’t resist squirming underneath the burly man. Although, you’ve just had what was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you wanted more. You needed more; you needed Bucky.

“I got you, darling. I got you.”

Bucky wanted to tease you more, make you beg, but he was just as desperate to feel you as you were. He propped himself up on his elbows kissing you one last time before reaching between your bodies and lining his dick with your entrance. Both you and Bucky moaned simultaneously as he stretched you out; curses spilling from his lips as incoherent moans fell from yours.

“So fucking tight, princess. Squeezing my cock just right, aren’t ya?” he whispered.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you whimpered.

Bucky began to slowly move his hips in and out of you deliciously. He quickly picked up the pace, jetting his hips rapidly making your moans louder. Bucky sat up on his knees and gripped your waist surely to leave bruises in your wake. This new angle surprised you and you couldn’t help the squeals and moans that left your mouth. You chanted Bucky's name like a prayer; as if it was the only word you knew.

Bucky watched you carefully, your face contorting with pure euphoric pleasure. He couldn’t help notice the small bump in your lower belly and without a second thought, he grabbed your hands pressing them firmly over your tummy.

“You feel how deep I am, darling? Fucking poking through,” Bucky grunted.

“Shit! Oh, it feels so good,” you moaned.

“That’s right, no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good again. This pussy’s mine now,” Bucky growled.

He took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat squeezing the sides gently but firm at the same time. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned even louder, confident that the neighbors were sure to complain in the morning. Feeling Bucky’s hand around your neck was so exhilarating; you and Daniel had never ever experimented with anything beyond a pair of handcuffs, and that particular night went horribly.

You like being choked by Bucky.

“Fucking slut; you like this, don’t ya?” he came down to whisper huskily against your lips.

“Mh-hm,” you moaned with a devilish grin, your bottom lip resting between your teeth before your eyes rolled back again.

“Such a fucking beauty you are.”

Bucky hips snapped in and out and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release.

“God, I’m close, princess,” he growled.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your neck to pull you up so you straddled his thighs and your chest was flushed against his. Your sensitive and hardened nipples brushed against his slightly sweaty skin causing you to shudder in pleasure. Bucky’s lips attached themselves to your skin along your collar bones sucking harshly leaving purple marks all along.

Your legs shook once again as they did before and soon enough with an arched back and shout of Bucky’s name you came all over his cock. Overwhelmed with your sex, Bucky bit harshly on your shoulder in a poor attempt to muffled the loud groans and moans he elicited. Feeling your velvety walls squeeze tightly around him pushed him over the edge, coating your walls with hot ribbons on cum.

He fell forward almost crushing you but you were too tired to complain. Bucky continued to pepper soft kisses all over your skin whispering how good you were to him, how beautiful you looked. Just absolutely showering with compliments. You felt him slowly getting off you, probably afraid he was crushing you, but you didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“Don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his body.

“I don’t want to crush you, darling.”

“You’re not.”

Bucky chuckled before settling completely above you, careful not to make you uncomfortable. Hardly any time went by when he felt the even and soft puffs of air hitting his skin, sure that you had fallen asleep. He picked himself up and with major guilt for his best friend, picked you up from the bed and walked you to his own room.

After he was sure you stayed sound asleep, Bucky grabbed a clean pair of boxers and hurried himself to Steve’s room again. He collected all the discarded clothes and the dirty sheets and tossed them in the washing machine to clean right away.

He hadn’t meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister, let alone in his own room, on his own bed, but it all happened so fast.

He went back to his room letting the clothes do it’s thing, and quickly grabbed his phone. He messaged Steve, telling him that when he got back for his weekend with Peggy, he really needed to talk to him.

Tonight made Bucky realize how much he loved you. Growing up, you two had always been close. But he doesn’t know when he stopped being friendly and instead began flirting. Bucky wanted to be with you; he knew it now more than ever.

Bucky watched your gorgeous sleeping form on his bed. He smiled to himself before opening the window; the sun already rising and those beautiful golden rays seeped through the glass window, making you look angelic. He crawled into bed cuddling flushed against your naked body. He chuckled softly when you realized he’d returned, wiggling even further into his arms.

“I love you, Bucky,” you mumbled.

“I love you, too, darling.”

And he really, and truly did love you. As did you love him.

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Bucky Barnes Taglist:

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#marvel smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes smut #marvel fics #bucky x y/n

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 4 years

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not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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gubler-me-up · 4 years

Text

A Man After Midnight

Request: can you do a extremely dirty and down right filthy smut with dom spencer and fem/sub reader. like with heavy degradation, overstimulation, dirty talk, slapping, choking. basically just down right smut. if not it’s okay :)

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! Fun fact: I was listening to Abba’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) slowed+reverb when I made this title because the song was doing something when I was reading this request. Feel free to listen to it while reading, it’s a BANGER! This is a longer than usual fic since all the fics I’ve published recently were shorter, but there was a lot to do here LOL And I’m posting it after midnight, so does that make me a woman after midnight? Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Couple: Dom!Spencer/Sub Fem!Reader

Category: SMUT (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Heavy degradation, slapping, spitting, choking, penetrative sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, female masturbation, mention of sex toys

Word count: 3k

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

You were laying on your couch mindlessly browsing Amazon to see what you could spend your money on now. You had a bad habit of browsing through every category when you were bored. Since you were on there though you decided to take a peek at any new sex toys they had.

You scrolled down the page filled with vibrators, dildos and other assortments of toys they were newly selling. As you scrolled you found yourself thinking of Spencer. Usually your companion on boring nights, but tonight he warned you not to bother him. He told you he was going to be busy with going through case files since he was a bit behind.

You went over to your text messages to see if he had messaged you anything after you told him you wouldn’t bother him. He hadn’t. You looked at the time and saw it was 11:40 p.m. You opened the text message you were having with Spencer. You were curious if he was still working or if he had time to acknowledge your existence. You asked him how working on the files were going and then went back to Amazon.

You continued to scroll through the sex toys as you waited for him to text back. The more you looked at the dildos on the page the more you wished Spencer was over. You two had seen each other more than usual in the past month, but it never seemed as if there was time to have sex. He had a lot of work to do outside of already working ridiculous hours. You guessed that was the downside of not going on cases frequently. You were grateful he was around to go out and hang out with, but you missed him holding you down and fucking you mindless.

You checked to see if you missed a text from him. He hadn’t texted you back. You sighed and decided to message him again. You asked him if he was busy still and waited to see if he would respond. You waited for two minutes, but didn’t receive anything back. You guessed he was still busy. You found it astonishing that even a genius like him could take so long to do these case files. He was probably flooded by them.

You sighed as you locked your phone and laid it on your chest. You closed your eyes to rest them from staring at your screen light. Your mind started to wander to the last time you and Spencer had sex. He had you bent over your couch begging him to fuck you harder and harder. He had to cover your mouth at one point because you were being so loud that your neighbours were pounding on your wall. Just the thought of his dick pounding in you got you wet.

You opened your eyes and picked back up your phone. If he wasn’t going to text you maybe he’d answer a call from you. You just wanted to hear his voice if that was the only thing he could give you. You dialed his number and put your phone against your ear as you eagerly anticipated his voice. A few rings went by before you heard him answer.

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked.

He sounded slightly annoyed, but his deep, bothered tone made your heart speed up. Hearing his tone directly in your ear was such a sweet sound. You wanted to keep him on the line as long as possible.

“You didn’t answer my text messages, so I just wanted to know if you were alright,” you said.

“I’m fine. I told you I’d be busy, so I wouldn’t be able to talk,” he said.

“I know, I know, but you could have at least texted me back saying you were still busy. Had me out here wondering things,” you said.

“Wondering things?” He questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know like you coming over.”

“Y/N, you know I can’t tonight.”

“Just for a little. I know you don’t go to bed early anyway. I’d love to see you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Babe, please. I want to see you tonight. I need to see you tonight.”

There was a pause on his end. His silence was killing you, but he didn’t leave you hanging for long. He let out a long sigh. He paused again before finally saying something again.

“You sound desperate. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I want to be your little whore tonight and you’re not letting me do that for you.”

He paused again. These pauses were indicating to you that he was taking your words into consideration. You knew how much he loved when you acted like his little whore. Doing anything he asked, letting him treat you however he wanted and enjoying every bit of it.

“I don’t know. I’m already behind with-”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

He paused.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Then come over and you can fuck me however you want.”

He paused again. You sat up as you waited for his response. You could hardly maintain your cool as you licked your lips in excitement. He finally let out a long, draining sigh.

“I’ll be there a bit after midnight. You know how much I hate when you sound overly desperate.”

“You’re coming here regardless though, are you not?”

“Only to help your desperate nature.”

You giggled. “Can’t wait to see you too. I’ll make sure I’m ready for you.”

“You better. See you soon.”

Without another word exchanged, he hung up. You hopped off the couch and let out a thrill fuelled shriek. You ran to your room and went straight to your drawer. You grabbed your favourite matching bra and underwear set before heading to the washroom.

You turned on your shower to let it warm up. You stripped your clothes off and looked at yourself in the mirror. You touched your breasts and then slowly ran your hands down your sides. You couldn’t contain the feeling of ecstasy you were experiencing throughout your whole being. The thought of Spencer was enough to get you feeling like an animal.

You hopped into the shower. You let the water flow over your body as you closed your eyes. The warmth of the water was refreshing. Before you opened your eyes and begin your shower, you let your hand wander down to your clit. You started to circle it as you thought of Spencer watching you do it with concentrated eyes. You stuck two of your fingers inside of you as you continued to recount countless times Spencer had you in his grip and had his way with you.

You pumped your fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. You started moaning louder and louder. Your thoughts alone carried you to your orgasm as you let out a high pitched moan. You pulled your fingers out and let the water clean them of your juices.

After you were done showering, you put your favourite lotion on and your favourite deodorant. You then put on the bra and underwear combo. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You played around with your hair to see how sexy you could make it. Not that it mattered anyway, but you wanted to look as presentable as possible for the first few minutes of his arrival.

You went into your room and went over to your dresser. You picked out your favourite perfume and gave yourself a few sprits of it on your chest. You loved to doll yourself up before getting the shit fucked out of you because you knew how much Spencer loved making you look disheveled. He loved seeing you go from near perfect to his perfect little whore.

You heard a few knocks at your door. You felt chills crawl down your spine as you strolled over to your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing there waiting for you to let him in. You smiled and opened the door enough to let him in.

“Welcome,” you said.

He smiled at you as he walked in. You immediately closed the door and leaned your back against it with your hands placed behind your back. You stared at him as you bit your lip as he stood there all cool and collected. You knew this was the quiet before the storm.

He looked over at you. He beckoned you with a movement of his fingers to come close to him. You slowly walked up to him. You reached out your hands and pressed them against his chest. You looked lustfully into his eyes as he continued to stare intently at you.

“I’ve waited so patiently for you to fuck me, baby,” you said.

He grabbed your hands off of your chest. He held them tightly and close to his lips. He kissed your hands as he continued to look you in your eyes. You couldn’t break eye contact with him. It was as if he was looking into you.

“No, you weren’t. You’re too calm now. Did you masturbate before I came?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

In one swift motion, he let go of your hands and took his right hand to grab your neck firmly. You let out a gasp as he pulled your face close to him. Just by him doing that you were back to feeling your juices in-between your legs.

“You’re such a lying little whore. Did I teach you to lie to me?” He asked.

“No,” you squeaked.

“Then why did you lie?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“On your knees,” he demanded.

You dropped to your knees as he let go of your neck. You already knew the drill, so you opened your mouth wide and waited. He undid his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. The sight of his dick got you revved up and ready to start the night ahead.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head forward, so your mouth could swallow him whole. You choked on his dick as it reached the back of your throat. He kept it there for a while as he listened to you choke on his cock. He pulled you off of him and watched as a string of spit connected your mouth to his dick.

“What happens when you lie to me?” He asked.

“I choke on your dick,” you said.

He responded by shoving your mouth back on his dick. You gagged on it as you felt tears sting your eyes. Saliva dripped from the side of your mouth and went down your chin all the way to your breasts. He soon rocked his hips back and forth so he could fuck your mouth.

“You think you’re smart enough to outwit me? Let this be a reminder of your place as my little whore,” he said.

You moaned around his cock in agreement. You reached your hands towards his thighs for some stability. He pulled you off of his cock and slapped you before grabbing your chin, so you could face him.

“Hands behind your back, whore,” he demanded.

You did as he said and held your hands behind your back. You opened back up your mouth for him and he gladly went back to fucking your mouth. As he kept hitting the back of your throat, you could feel the tears stream down your eyes and it mixed with the saliva dripping down the side of your mouth.

He pulled your head off of him and held your head back, so you could look up at him. He looked at the tears running down your face. He then looked at your saliva running down your chin and running onto your breasts.

“Tell me what you think you look like right now,” he said.

“Like a disgusting whore,” you responded.

“You do,” he said.

He let go of your hair and grabbed your chin. He leaned down and gave you a hot and heavy kiss with his tongue, not shying away from tackling yours. He parted his lips from yours. He didn’t move his face far away from yours though. He squeezed your jaw, so you could keep your mouth open. A stream of his spit went into your mouth and you gladly let it fall on your tongue before swallowing.

“But you’re my disgusting whore. Tell me, what else were you doing before I came and tell me the truth,” he said.

“I was looking at sex toys,” you confessed.

“That’s how desperate you were? You were going to order sex toys instead of waiting for me to satisfy you?” He asked.

“I promise I wasn’t going to buy anything, baby. You’re the only thing that can satisfy me,” you said.

“Is that so?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m only for you. I’m only happy when you fuck me. My little whore pussy is only for you, I swear,” you said.

“Get up,” he demanded.

You shot up from your kneeling position and he immediately pushed you backward until your back hit the wall. He wrapped his big hand around your neck as his other hand went down to your clit and started to circle it. You let out a squeaky moan as he looked at your desperate expression.

“Tell me what you masturbated to,” he demanded.

“I-I…you,” you moaned.

He started to circle your clit faster. “What did the little whore squeak?”

“You,” you shrieked.

“And what about me?”

“I was thinking…a-about how…you f-f-fuck me.”

He slipped two of his long fingers in you. You let out a loud moan as he started to rapidly pump in and out of you. The way he looked at you with desire in his eyes made you soaking wet.

“How do I fuck you?”

“Like a whore. Like the fucking whore I am.”

“What makes you a fucking whore?”

“Because I love getting stuffed with dick. I do anything to get fucked.”

“What makes you my little whore?”

“I love being fucked by you. I do anything you want to just be close to your dick.”

He attacked you with another aggressive kiss as he continued his pace with his fingers in you. You could feel a tingling sensation running through you again. You knew he wasn’t going to stop though. He wanted to be the one to make you cum this time. You were glad to make him be the one to make you cum this time.

He pulled his fingers out prematurely. You let out an unsatisfied groan as he parted his lips from yours. He heard you and that came with repercussions. He gave you another slap on your cheek with the hand he just pulled out of you.

“Keep complaining and I won’t fuck you at all,” he said as he licked off your juices from his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” you said.

“You’re lucky I want to fuck the shit out of you. Take off your underwear and bra,” he said as he let go of your neck.

You unhooked your bra and then pulled down your underwear. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in for another quick heavy kiss before leading you over to your kitchen table. You felt your blood pumping through your veins. You could tell you were about to get fucked hard. Whenever it wasn’t in the bedroom it was a sex act of pure, heavy lustful desire.

He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head down on the table. The rest of your torso fell onto the table as he positioned himself behind you. He slapped your butt cheek.

“Open your legs,” he said.

You spread your legs open and felt his dick ram inside of you. You let out a shriek as he continued to pound into you with such a great force you swear the table was moving with every thrust. He lifted your head up from the table, so your neck was bent back. It was bent far enough back so he could look at you desperately letting out your wild shrieks.

“This is how a whore gets fucked,” he said.

“I deserve it. I’ve been such a bad whore,” you said.

You felt his free hand go back to your clit. He rubbed circles around it and watched as you could barely form anything coherent to say. He smirked down at you.

“You can redeem yourself by cumming on the dick you love so much,” he said.

He didn’t even have to circle your clit for long. The look in his eyes mixed with the already lingering feeling of an orgasm from not too long ago sent you to your limit. You let out a scream as he continued to pound into you as you let your orgasm take over your body.

“That’s a good whore. Do you want my cum in you or on you?” He asked

“I-In…” Was all you could muster up to say.

“I knew a whore like you would want all my cum in you.”

“I-I…I love…love your cum.”

He smiled as he leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss. “I know, you usually want to swallow it.”

“I…I want it…I want it to drip…out of my…”

“Shh, I know,” he said.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he began to pound into you harder. You were screaming at that point from the feeling of his dick destroying you. Your nails were scratching the table as you tried to keep your balance. He let out a loud moan and you could feel his cum release into you.

He let go of your hair and pulled out of you. You felt his cum dripping out of you and you knew he was watching it drip out of you from behind. He then grabbed your arm to turn you around, so you could face him.

He smiled at you. “Is this what you so desperately wanted? This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You gave him an exhausted smile. “I wanted to be your little whore tonight.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “You were a very good little whore tonight.”

“Does that mean a round two is up for discussion?” You asked.

He chuckled. “How about we get cleaned up and we cuddle instead?”

“Can I be your little cuddle whore at least?”

“Of course.”

—–

MASTERLIST

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid #Spencerreid #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

tinyyoungblood · 3 years

Note

okay amazing here goes...so SOUR has been on repeat and your one-shot based on the album was super cute and just EVERYTHING 🥺 but also i was listening to 'traitor' the other day and the first line goes "brown guilty eyes and little white lies" and i just. the entire song puts me in the feels over a boyfriend i never had but anyway i was thinking what if...angst with peter parker!! maybe he's been more distant lately and lying about where he's been at nights or something? i'm not sure the world is your oyster!! thank you in advance💘 hehe

strangers with memories | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: pure angst

a/n: “the world is your oyster” lol you’re so sweet <3 we don’t claim the peter parker in this fic because he knows better than this. enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was nights like these that made you feel like everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. The window was opened, leaving outside noise from the street to breeze in and blend in with the lo-fi beats playing quietly from Peter’s laptop.

Your legs were tangled under a soft blanket as Peter showed you outfit pictures from his Pinterest board, asking for your opinion. It simply made sense. The world felt at peace.

“No, I don’t think you understand. Orange and teal look really good together, see.” Peter turned his phone around to show you his screen. You squinted at the brightness, but once your eyes adjusted, you burst out laughing.

“Sure, if you want look like Perry the Platypus. Get that away from me.” You shoved his hand away and Peter grinned. He swiped to another picture with the same colours combination, and you shrieked. “Not the brown beanie! Dr. Doofenshmirtz would have a field day with this.”

Peter chuckled. He rose to his feet and tossed his phone next to you on the mattress. “I’m going to the bathroom”, he declared with an air of casualness that made you crack a smile. He was halfway through the doorway when he popped his head back in and asked, “You want anything?”

“From the bathroom?” You looked up from your phone.

Peter shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Uh-huh.”

You suppressed your smile. “I’m good, thanks.” He gave you another shrug and left the bathroom, whistling a tune you didn’t know.

Not a second later, Peter’s phone gave off a subtle ping. It wasn’t your intention to look, but reflexes made you glance at it from the corner of your eyes. You regretted it instantly. Your shoulders tensed. It was just a text message—nothing scandalous, but the contact name made your stomach drop.

MJ.

Her name popped up on Peter’s phone screen more often than not. You really didn’t want to be bothered. You knew they were only friends, but you could already see the broad smile edging his face as he read the message. You hated where your thoughts had taken you.

Peter trusted you and you wanted to trust him as well, desperately. You demanded yourself to take the high ground. It still felt stupid and your chest caved in just at the thought of Peter grinning at his phone. He barely even answered your texts anymore.

You could already hear the white lies he was going to feed you. But you felt yourself wanting to keep the white lies. At least, that meant getting to keep Peter. All you could do was swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. The world still blurred around you.

“May asked if you’re in the mood for Thai food.” Your gaze shot to Peter’s. He was leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest with the same calm expression as before. Don’t ruin this. Keep the peace.

You forced a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t like Thai food.”

Peter frowned at that. “Since when? You’ve always liked it.” He appeared almost affronted before realisation crossed his face. “Oh wait, my bad, MJ liked it. We actually just had Thai food together the other night with Ned.” A private smile curled around his lips at the memory.

“Sounds nice,” you replied weakly. It was all you could say.

Peter didn’t seem to mind. He pushed himself off and strolled over, picking up his phone to see the texts he had just received. He chuckled softly at whatever he had been sent and punched in a reply.

You simply sat there, fiddling with the blanket that suddenly felt too hot. Say something, the voice inside your head demanded. Be exciting. Don’t make him lose interest. Your hands curled into a fist. You felt ridiculous.

“So about Friday night,” you began awkwardly, feeling suddenly very out of place although there was nobody else in the room. Peter’s eyes were bright with delight as he typed away on his phone.

“Hm?” He said, and you had a feeling it wasn’t because he wanted to you to go on. He just wasn’t sure if you had spoken at all.

Your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile. “Are you going to pick me up or should we just meet there?”

Peter’s eyebrows creased. “Meet you where?”

“At the movies,” you said curtly. “We wanted to watch that movie, remember? It was your idea.” The bite in your tone finally made Peter look up. It was like watching a slow car crash.

“Was it?” Peter mused, and you nodded stiffly.

“Oh.”

From somewhere on the street, you heard people arguing. Their sharp voices cut into the room and drilled themselves into your chest. Don’t let this be us. That isn’t us. We’re better than that. You fixed your eyes on the curve of Peter’s neck, concentrating on his breathing to feel like he wasn’t drifting away. In reality, you knew that the ship was already leaving the harbour and there was nothing you could do.

“Sorry,” Peter finally said, lips pursed. “I kind of already made plans with MJ. Her uncle has this cool train collection that she wanted to show me. She told me about it at lunch today and I’m really excited. It’s pretty awesome.”

Your face dropped and he had the good sense to add, “But we can always catch the movie on Monday night if you want.”

“Why not on the weekend?” A part of you dreaded to hear the answer.

Peter didn’t hesitate as he waved you off. “Ned and I wanted to get started on that new Lego set I told you about.” You had no recollection of that. Peter’s eyes flickered to you before another text message came in, demanding his full attention. The sound made you feel nauseous. The ship was a dot now, fading into the horizon while you were still stranded.

“You can join us if you want,” Peter offered with eyes glued to his phone. “MJ is going to bring Thai food, I think.”

You didn’t bother to reply. You felt claustrophobic. Pushing yourself off his bed, you headed for the window. It was already opened by a crack, but you needed fresh air. It was almost overwhelming when you stepped over the window sill and let yourself out onto the fire escape. The stairs screeched but you didn’t care for the noise. What you needed was proof that there was more out there.

The railing was cold as you wrapped your hands around them. Each window across the street was alit in numerous colours. Silhouettes moved in those colours—people with their own lives and sorrows. The world continued to live.

You settled on one of the stairs and stared up at the night sky. No stars, nothing. You were really stuck at the harbour. Peter’s room was glowing in purple thanks to the LED strips you had set up together a few weeks ago. He had bought old vinyl records and you spent the entire night rating them until sunlight pooled in through the curtains. It all felt like a pipe dream now.

You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting outside by yourself. All you knew were the colour blocks of windows, shifting in and out of blurriness. You had been too busy watching the ship sail away that you only now realised how much you had starved yourself. One good night wasn’t going to change that. Your mind was just really good at leaving out the bad parts.

“Here you are.” Peter’s voice caught you off guard. You turned away, wiping your tearstained cheeks hastily as he watched you with knitted brows. “I just came to tell you that I invited Ned and MJ over. I hope that’s fine.”

When you didn’t reply, Peter stepped out and sat on the window sill. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Do I look okay to you?”

“Well,” he said, “You’ve been acting weird all week, so…I’m not sure”

“I have been acting weird?” You echoed.

Peter hesitated but lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, but you’re always smiling, so I just assume you’re all right.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said bitterly, tucking your hands under your thighs to stop them from shaking. “Just look what we’ve become. You can’t even tell anymore if I’m putting on a fake smile.”

“What are you talking about?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, you know.” You waved your hand at nothing. “Air pollution, climate change, everything and nothing these days. But you wouldn’t know, would you.”

“Y/N,” Peter said with an edge to his voice. “Are you going to tell me what this is really about?”

You hadn’t realised that you had started pacing until his question made you halt and whip around. There was acid in your tone as you snapped, “Don’t you miss me at all?”

“What?” Peter looked stumped. “We see each other every day at school. You’re literally standing in front of me right now.”

You scoffed and sat back down on the stairs. “Love really does make people blind,” you murmured and stared at the sky. Maybe it was going to rain.

Peter exhaled sharply and knelt before you, lowering your chin to look you in the eye. He thought he could find an answer in them, but you knew that if he’d been blind to it all this time, he wasn’t going to see it now. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, and your chest ached.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I want you. That’s all I wanted.”

“Wanted? You have me.” Peter pressed his lips together. “You have me right now, Y/N.”

“I don’t.” You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “MJ has you. She’s had you for a while now, and I’m just here watching you both from afar.”

Peter opened his mouth, most likely wanting to deny it, but no sounds came out. He simply stared and stared and stared. Your heart was racing. There was no way back, so you went on, “I don’t care if you’re just friends. I really don’t care, because it hurts just as much knowing that I still let you treat me like that. I miss you and you’re sitting right in front of me. And you know what the worst part is?”

Memories flooded your mind, bricking you like thorns. You devoured them, hungrily, because you were used to living on crumbs. Peter holding you in his arms. Peter looking tenderly after your wounds and kissing your tears. Peter turning sorrow into bliss until you were drunk on laughter and the sky was dusted in stars.

A sad smile hung to your lips. “I still think the world of you. All those nights when I had prayed for someone like you. Someone who could be my safe person and I could be theirs—I thought I had that with you.”

“You do,” Peter hissed, and at once you wondered where he found the strength to believe his own lies. He sighed. “I promise you, you did. It’s just…” Your throat went dry as he bit his tongue. “It’s not something you can control, okay? Maybe you’re just not my only safe person anymore. It’s…it’s not a big deal.” Peter’s gaze dropped as your breath caught.

You were glad you were sitting. There was no doubt that your knees would’ve given out otherwise. His confession felt like a punch to the gut. That small, pathetic voice inside your head screamed and trashed, denying everything he’d just said. A part of you was always so hopeful—Peter used to love that about you.

Remember, it tried to reason, he promised he would never hurt you. Remember how it felt to have his arms around you. It couldn’t have been a lie. None of it could’ve been a lie. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re not actually sorry,” you heard yourself say. “You’re just saying that to feel good about yourself. If you were sorry, you would’ve never made all those promises—” You didn’t have it in yourself to continue. No words would’ve done you justice anyway. “If you’re just going to keep hurting me, then leave me alone.”

Something dark flared in his brown eyes. “Leave you alone?” asked Peter incredulously. “This is stupid and you know it. All of this, just because I’m friends with MJ. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous? We’re just friends. There’s no reason for you to get paranoid.”

“I’m being paranoid now?” Your eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I would call it, yes.”

“Then tell me this.” You jumped to your feet. “Last week, when Mr. Harrison took points off my assignment because I supposedly handed it in too late, why didn’t you speak up for me? You were there, you knew I handed it in time. All I needed was for you to tell him the truth, but you didn’t say a damn thing. Now I’m failing that class, and you know why this is the first time you’re hearing about this?”

Peter remained silent, but his eyes flickered, and the crease between his brows was evidence enough.

“Because you were too distracted giggling with MJ in the back. You didn’t even notice when I stormed out of that room, so don’t lie to yourself, Peter. You haven’t been by my side in a while now.”

You shook your head when Peter averted his gaze. Of course, he had nothing to say. Both of you knew it wasn’t just about that class. It was about the missed calls, the empty words, and all the times he had stood you up and let you down. At least he respected you enough to not deny it. No more white lies.

“See, this is the thing,” you began, swinging your leg over the window sill to step inside the room. You faced Peter and waited until his gaze drifted to yours. “You gave me your word and I was stupid enough to believe you. I trusted you. It was supposed to be you and me against the world, but you sat back and watched it beat me down because you were too busy falling in love with somebody else.”

Peter’s expression shifted and you turned your back to him. Seeing his frustration replaced by realisation was something you knew you couldn’t stomach.

So you made to leave. It was only when you were halfway through the room that you recognised the feeling simmering in your gut as something a bit different than resentment. You looked back over your shoulder, eyebrows lowered, and struggled to find your voice.

“Peter?”

It was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you. He tore his gaze from the floor and looked at you. Wild storms were trapped in his eyes, an ocean rising. It was devasting to look at.

But it was then that you realised, that although Peter had never cheated on you, his brown guilty eyes still made him a traitor. You took a deep breath.

“Just don’t treat her how you treated me,” was all you said. And with that, you were gone.

* * *

i’d really appreciate if you left some feedback since i barely ever write angst and want to know what you think:) stay hydrated guys

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x yn #peter parker imagines #spiderman imagine #spiderman one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker fandom

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loserholland · 3 years

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟? | 𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ➺ TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning ➺ Nothing but fluff

Word Count ➺ 4.7k

Summary ➺ You have your doubts about going on a blind date, the past few dates you had been stood up. You just hope this guy doesn’t stand you up like the rest, but it turns out Bucky has doubts too.

A/N ➺ Kinda based off of “When he see’s me” I got the idea from when I was listening to the song, some parts of the song will be featured. This is set during tfatws timeline, but slight episode 1 spoiler! Please feel free to comment, reblog, send feedback <3 always appreciated! Maybe a part two? idk yet lol

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @ohbabycal @laucontrerasv @spider-mendes @jessybellsworld @quaksonhehe @dummiesshort

☞ Masterlist ☜

𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘜𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

“No! We’re not doing this again!”

Nyiah groaned loudly following her friend out the door, the moment she said “A friend of mine wants me to set you up with his friend.” (Y/N) had ran out the door not wanting to hear the rest of what she had to say, only because Nyiah didn’t have such a great streak when it came to setting her up on blind dates.

A few heads had turned in the cubicles but quickly shrugged it off turning their attention back to their computer screens. She hastily walked to the restroom wanting to lock herself in a stall an away from her friend, well only friend in the office. (Y/N) had moved to New York before the blip happened, and well it when it did happen she was sitting in on a meeting when she noticed everyone slowly began to disintegrate. She remembers attempting to call her parents before everything just went dark, then five years later she’s back where she was everyone running frantically around her.

Pushing the door open she quickly rushed into a stall sliding the lock across before slumping her body against the door letting out a sigh of relief an also trying to catch her breath. She honestly doesn’t remember why she agreed to going on these dates, she simply could say no. But, I guess being twenty-six and constantly questioned by her family about having someone in her life pushed her to go on these dates. She has been in New York for nearly six years now, and never really had a serious relationship since she’s been in the city. Before leaving California, she had broken up with her boyfriend of two years not wanting to do the whole long distance thing.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

That’s when Nyiah began to set her up on these blind dates saying “It’s time to get out there again! Everyone’s back you have an entire sea of men!”. The only thing she hated about blind dates, not knowing who the person is. Sure that’s the whole point of the date but, she likes knowing what she’s getting into. Searching them up on social media, getting as much information as them as possible to see what type of person she’s going to be sitting with for an hour or two.

“(Y/N)!”

Nyiah peeked her head over the stall peering down at (Y/N), the sudden noise caused her to flinch, she didn’t even hear her come in?! She looked down to see she had taken her heels off and was pretty sure she was standing on the toilet seat.

“That is very unsanitary.”

Nyiah looked down at her feet then back over the stall, “I’m standing on two toilet seat covers I should be fine.” (Y/N) scoffed lightly unlocking the the door watching as Nyiah stepped down from the toilet rushing out to corner (Y/N) before she left.

She pressed her lips into a thin line glaring at her friend, the last few two never even made their way through the door. Most of the waitresses took pity on you before you left they had offered free dessert for you to take home saying it was on the house, and how no one deserves to be stood up.

“Please- remember my friend Sam? He said he wants to set his friend up with you! This isn’t my idea, he asked me to ask you!”

Sam? She briefly remembers meeting him, he seemed like a nice guy- from what she had collected the few times they met. And well he is an avengers and a literal hero to New York City and well the entire world.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘐𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦? 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦?

“Nyiah-” she paused rubbing her temples with her middle and thumb finger, “The last two dates my date didn’t even show up! How do I know that Sam’s friend won’t do the same?” it always felt so humiliating, sitting there in the middle of the dining room waiting for the person to show up only and not even answering any messages you sent.

Nyiah sighed, “I’ve met him once or twice he’s nice.”

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧

(Y/N) sighed, “Nice doesn’t cut it Nyiah, how do I know he won’t be like the first two? The first one felt like I was doing some kind of interview- all he talked about was himself.” She had gone out with one of Nyiah’s close friends Brandon, he seemed like a sweet guy till he made it their date all about him leaving no room for her to talk.

𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦

“The second one was getting too close- he didn’t even know what personal space was! I went to the restroom for five minutes just to be in my own space!” Nyiah frowned slightly remembering how (Y/N) called saying she was about to just pay for the check and leave because Joshua didn’t know how to just give anyone space.

𝘖𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘖𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘖𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘴 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵

"I just-” she paused for a second swiping her tongue against her bottom lip. Doubt, was eating up at her. Doubt in herself and Nyiah. Mostly herself, she wanted to find the confidence to go on this date.

𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵? (𝘈𝘩) 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯? (𝘈𝘩)

“I just don’t want to disappoint myself again, if not myself then my date too- what if the reason why they don’t even make it through the door is because they see me and I don’t know they don’t like how I look?”

The last date she had last week, she had gotten his number through Nyiah. She had arrived about thirty minutes early and when she had texted him if he was on the way, he never texted back. That takes a toll on your heart and mind, constantly questioning if you’re good enough.

𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬? (𝘈𝘩) 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 (𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

“I’m afraid.”

(Y/N) had every right to feel that way, every right to question whether or not she should say yes to her friend. She had every right to feel afraid after the last few dates not showing up, she had every right to also say no.

"(Y/N/N), this guy won’t do what the others did to you. Plus I shouldn’t call him a guy he’s moreover a man, like I said I don’t want to giveaway who he is but he’s a gentlemen, quiet at first but once you start talking to him- he’ll open up.”

𝘚𝘰, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭-𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment rethinking what Nyiah had just said. She didn’t want to make the decision just yet, she needed the night to think about it. The last four dates she jumped right into it, and well missed a few steps when the date arrived. This time she wanted to be careful, she didn’t want to disappoint herself again.

“I need time to think about it.”

The brunette nodded, “Take all the time you need. Sam still needs to ask his friend anyway.”

Later that night she had called her sister in hopes she had some advice for her, yet it turned out to be the opposite. Pacing around her living room she held her phone to her ear, “You should go- don’t let the past four dates define how this one will turn out.” (Y/N) huffed lightly moving to seat on her couch, “Yeah but, have you been stood up before?”

Her sister moved around the kitchen waving her hands at her kids to settle down at the dining room table, “You’re using your aggressive tone on me- you called me remember?” (Y/N) pulled the phone away from her ear lifting her free hand and flipping off her phone.

“And now you’re flipping me off, you’re getting defensive cause you know I’m right.”

She pulled the phone back to her ear, “I’m not defensive! I’m simply being cautious.. plus I don’t know don’t you think it’s a sign? What if he’s all the like rest.”

“(Y/N), you and your what if’s, just- take the night to sleep on it. I’m sure if Nyiah has met him and her friend thought of setting you two up, he won’t be like the rest.”

What she didn’t know was that certain someone she may be going on a date with was having the same exact conversation as her, unsure if he should go out on a date.

“A what?”

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line staring at Bucky with a “you heard what I said so stop pretending you didn’t hear me.” look. He had presented the idea of setting Bucky up on a blind date.

The last date he went on was with Leah, a girl at the restaurant he and Yori had gone to eat lunch at. Yori had set the date up, that was his first date in eighty years and since that date he hasn’t gone on another.

Bucky had tried online dating, he had downloaded tinder matched with a couple of people till they started texting “DTF” and of course being a 106 years old he didn’t know what that meant. Sam had spent five minutes laughing in his face before telling him what it meant, which lead him to delete the app. When he had told Sam he deleted the app, that’s when he contacted Nyiah asking if (Y/N) was still single and if she was willing to go on a date with Bucky.

"Who is this girl anyway?”

“Woman.”

“What?”

“Woman.”

“Why do you keep saying Woman? Answer my question!”

Sam mentally face palmed himself, sometimes Bucky’s true age shows from time to time- damn fossil. He also needed to teach him a thing or two about modern day flirting.

“Girl makes it seem as if you’re going on a date with a teenager. So woman sounds a lot better, and to answer your question I can’t tell you her name that’s the whole point of a blind date. But, I’ve met her once or twice, She’s beautiful and nice.”

“So I’m suppose to be okay with this because you’ve met her once or twice and because she’s ‘beautiful’ and ‘nice’.”

Sam sighed lightly, “Look Buck, you need to get out there instead of being cooped up in your apartment. She’s a good friend of a friend of mine, remember Nyiah?”

Nyiah- oh yes she was the loud woman. Bucky noticed how flustered Sam got whenever Nyiah was around- he could tease him about that later.

“I went on one date like a month ago and tried tinder out- you know how that went.”

He couldn’t help but feel worried, not because it’s been so long but he was worried that they’ll find out about his past. About how he has a vibranium arm or that apart of his past that he tried so hard to forget about, he was worried they would know he use to be an ex-assassin. He didn’t want them to run away once he opened up about his past- if he would ever open up about his past.

Sam could sense that he was worried he placed a hand on his shoulder, “She’s not one to judge Buck, I told you she’s really nice. I’m sure she won’t run at the sight of you, unless you continue to stare her down-

Bucky glared slightly causing a chuckle to pass Sam’s lips, “This is only a blind date, you determine whether or not you want to have a second or a third, or a forth. Right now it’s just one- and I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

The sound of her phone ringing woke her up from her deep slumber, she lifted her arm reaching forward towards the night stand in search for her phone tugging the charger off and swiped to accept the call before she missed it.

“Hello?”

“Nyiah! So I spent some time thinking-”

Nyiah pulled the phone away from her ear squinting to look at the time, 2:47 AM. Placing the phone back to her ear she sighed, “I’ll go on the date.” this caused Nyiah to sit up surely waking her up, “Are you serious?” asking in disbelief she pulled the phone away from her ear again checking that she was talking to (Y/N).

“Are you serious or am I dreaming?”

“I’m serious- I talked to Gen and she said that I shouldn’t let the past four dates define this one so- I’m willing to go on this date.”

Nyiah squealed loudly surely waking up the person who was sleeping next to her, “What is it the voice?” the voice mumbled causing (Y/N) to raise her brow in confusion, “So- who are you with right now?” Nyiah’s eyes widen slightly looking down at the half- asleep figure in her bed.

“No one! Well, I’ll tell Sam in the morning, is it okay if the date is at 6 today?”

“Yeah that’s fine- now answer my-”

“Great I’ll come by later to help you out with outfits! Good night!”

She placed her phone back on the charger before turning her attention back to the sleeping person next to her, “Sam! Sam!” she shook her quickly, “(Y/N) said yes! So tell James first thing in the morning!”

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵?

(Y/N) felt her stomach turn, she felt so nervous. Nervous that she was going to have to deal with the embarrassment of being stood up yet again, Nyiah had raided her closet in search for the perfect dress before pulling out a beautiful baby blue midi dress. The last time she wore that dress was to her sister’s wedding.

She didn’t feel this nervous for the past four dates, why does this one feel different? Maybe because Nyiah gave more of a description of what this guy looked like, maybe it was because after talking to her sister, drinking half a bottle of red wine, and weighing out the pros and cons at one in the morning fueled her to want to go on this date and make an effort.

“What if-”

Nyiah made a weird “Ngh” noise to stop her from finishing her sentence, “No more what if’s, I told you. This one is going to be different, trust me.” (Y/N) snorted loudly, “I hope you’re right- and maybe now you can tell me who you were sharing a bed with.”

A pink tint painted the brunette’s cheeks, “It was Sam.” she mumbled causing (Y/N) to gasp loudly, “Sam? No way! Wow- took you two long enough.” she had remembered all the times Nyiah would call her drunk talking about how much she wanted to jump Sam’s bones or go flying around with him.

She sighed lightly, fixing up her hair one last time, applying a little bit on mascara and lipgloss keeping it as natural as possible. Nyiah grinned widely, she knew that this date was going to be the best she knew that (Y/N) was going to for sure go on a second date.

“Wanna know one more thing about him?”

(Y/N) hummed in response raiding her closet for her white vans, “The color of your dress- is the color of his eyes.” That sly minx was at it again, slipping her shoes on slinging her purse around her, she took one last look the mirror. Before she parted ways with Nyiah she had said “You’re for sure going on a second date.” A part of her hoped she was right, the other part of her worried Nyiah would be wrong.

Bucky stood in front of the flower vendor looking between the different varieties, he stared at the peach roses. He glanced down at his watch, he wanted to be there at least a five minutes early, Sam had made the reservation under his name at this sushi restaurant that was in walkable distance of his apartment and his dates apartment.

He grabbed the bouquet of peach roses handing a twenty dollar bill to the vendor mumbling keep the change before heading towards the direction of the restaurant. Gripping the bouquet in his hands, he tried to be as careful as possible not wanting to crush the stems.

From all the big steps he was taking he made it to the building in no time, stepping in to the slightly crowded restaurant due to it being nearly dinner time. Walking up the counter he looked around before speaking, “Reservation under Sam Wilson?” he watched as the host looked through the book.

“You’re the first to arrive, follow me to the booth.” he watched as the host grabbed two menus directing for Bucky to follow him. The room was filled with chatter, he felt his hand growing clammy not from the heat from the glove but from the nervousness he felt.

“Anything I can start you off with?”

Bucky set the flowers next to him in the booth, “Water is fine. Thank you.”

(Y/N) wiped her palms against her dress once more standing in front of the door of the restaurant, “Here goes nothing.” she whispered to herself tugging the door opened she stepped in. The room was dimly lit and full of chatter, she felt her heart beat race it felt as though it was trying to escape from her chest.

Walking up to the host she swiped her hands down her dress once more, “Hi, reservation under Sam Wilson?” she watched as the host crossed the name off the list, “Follow me, he just got here a few minutes before you.” she could feel her heart beat in her ears, oh my god was she about to go into cardiac arrest? What the hell is happening?

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵? (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥?)

Nearing the table, all she could make out what his short brunette hair finally the host stopped in front of the table motioning for you to seat, “Your server will be with you in a few moments. Please take your time to decide.” Bucky stood from his seat gripping the bouquet of flowers in his left hand, “Hi I’m James.” oh Nyiah you were right, he had beautiful cerulean eyes they resembled the ocean. She had seen these eyes before, yet she couldn’t put her finger on it.

You stuck your right hand out enclasping it with his, “Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).” she let go right after hoping he didn’t notice how she wiped her hand down her dress once more. Bucky felt his cheeks turn a slight pink, he looked down slightly “These are for you.” you gladly accepted the beautiful peach roses bringing it to your nose to inhale the scent.

“Thank you, they are lovely.”

Bucky motioned once more to allow her to sit in the booth first before he slipped into his seat, she stared at him her brain was eating up at her unsure of how she had seen him before.

“So, how are you?” Bucky broke the silence, lifting the menu slightly enough for him to still see her face. Sam was correct, she was beautiful. “I’m good, a little nervous. How are you?” he chuckled lightly causing (Y/N) to smile lightly “I’m actually nervous too, it’s been a while since I’ve um-”

“Gone out on a date?”

He nodded in agreement still scanning the menu before finally settling on what he wanted to order. “You’re friends with Sam right? How do you two know each other?” (Y/N) questioned looking up for a second before brining her attention back to the menu. A slight glint caught her eye, it was silver and around his neck.

“We’re uh-” he cleared his throat slightly unsure of how to answer the question, “we work together.” That’s when it clicked, she remembered where she had seen those beautiful ocean eyes. She had gone to the smithsonian museum almost every weekend, visiting the same exhibit.

“Oh my god- you’re James Buchanan Barnes!”

Bucky was unsure if she said it out of excitement or fear.

“I read about you in the smithsonian exhibit- wow okay I sound like such a nerd. But you were so brave, wait I shouldn’t use were, because it’s not like you aren’t brave anymore, you are so brave. I need to stop talking I’m sorry.” (Y/N) rambled reaching for the cup of water to shut herself up.

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, “I’m sure you’ve read other things.” she was currently sitting with an ex-assassin, why wasn’t she running for the hills right now?

“Well- that the thing” she leaned forward slightly, “I’ve read what was released and well- what they did to you.. no one deserves that. I remember reading them and I remember reading the information they had at the exhibit. Those were two different people-”

“Hi, I’m Alex I’ll be your waiter for tonight. What can I get for you two?”

The two ordered their meals, thanking the waiter as he took their menus away. Bucky stared back at (Y/N), she felt unsure if she should continue talking. “You were saying?” she looked up from her lap her mouth was slightly agape, what if I angered him in some way?

“The person I’m speaking to right now, is James Buchanan Barnes, he is from Brooklyn and served as a sergeant in the 107th division during World War II. The person who no longer exist is the winter solider, someone HYDRA controlled and wiped constantly to do their dirty deeds. You are James Buchanan Barnes, a sweet guy who bought me flowers and said yes to coming on a date with a complete nerd.”

Bucky smiled, this was the first time no one judged him for his past, nor tried to run for the damn hills once they found out who he use to be. He noticed how she kept her head down low unsure if she had angered him or not, “Enough about me- what about you? With that accent of yours I’m guessing you’re from the west coast?”

(Y/N) lifted her head meeting the same ocean blue eyes, “California, moved here in 2017. I work at an office, that’s how I know Nyiah. Got a degree in marketing, and I have an older sister, two younger brothers.” Bucky listened to her ramble on about her life smiling ever so often whenever she would derive to a different topic.

“I was actually close to not coming on this date..”

Bucky finished chewing the sushi roll that he ordered, reaching for his glass of water to wash down the rice. “Why?” he questioned continuing to pick off the sushi that was on his plate, he watched as she refocused her attention back on her lap.

“Well- the first two dates Nyiah had set me up on were complete disasters, the first guy talked too much, the second didn’t know what personal space was. The previous two stood me up, so- thank you for not being like any of those men.”

“Boys.”

“Hm?”

“They weren’t men, they were boys. Especially the last two who stood you up, you’re way too beautiful to be stood up. But- I should be thanking you for not running away or judging my past.”

(Y/N) smiled, she was definitely going to ask him out on a second date.

It felt as though they have known each other forever, they had spent hours talking without realizing it was nearly closing time. Bucky had beat her to pay the bill, standing from his seat as (Y/N) did the same, “Let me walk you home.” she nodded holding the flowers close to her body.

As they were walking home, Bucky would point out here and there about how that building use to be this or he’d point out that’s where he saved Steve from being bullied yet again. The cool breeze kissed her skin causing her to shiver lightly, Bucky shrugged off his leather jacket placing it on her shoulders. She mumbled thank you, turning her head slightly to hide the arising blush on her cheeks.

They walked in comfortable silence she would look up every so often admiring the way the moon kissed his skin, he looked like literal art, especially with those beautiful cerulean eyes. (Y/N) stopped in her tracks looking up at her apartment building, “Well- this is me.” Bucky looked across the street and up at the building they were currently standing in front of, “Wanna know something funny?” she rose her brow slightly ushering him silently to tell her.

“I live in that building.”

It was ironic honestly, and somewhat like fate, “Let me walk you up.” who knew that the guy she was going to be going on a date with lived across her street the entire time, she also wondered if Nyiah knew that he lived across the street from her. Once they stood in front of her door she fished for her keys, Bucky offered to hold the flowers for her to make it easier for her to find.

Once she unlocked the door she opened it slightly turning to look up at Bucky he handed her the bouquet back, “Thank-” they both said simultaneously (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile, “You go first-” they said again causing Bucky to chuckle.

“Please ladies first.”

(Y/N) smiled she really didn’t want the night to end, “Thank you for an amazing night and for the beautiful flowers. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow for breakfast preferably, I know this 40′s theme cafe if you’d like to go?”

“I was actually-”

“It’s no problem if you can’t go!”

“No! Not no as in I can’t go- I can go it was just, I was actually planning on asking you out too but you seemed to beat me to it.”

(Y/N) mentally face palmed herself, her damn pessimistic mind getting the best of her yet again. She could feel herself growing hot, god dammit she needs to work on being more optimistic.

“Oh sorry- I’m just thank you again for tonight really. It turned out better than I could ever imagine.” without thinking she leaned up pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky stood there with wide eyes, (Y/N) wore the same expression “Uh- I’m sorry-” Bucky leaned down pressing a kiss to her cheeks as well. God they looked she was sure they were acting like two middler schoolers who got into their first relationship.

“I’ll come by around 8?”

She nodded, she was sure she looked like a tomato by now.

Bucky turned on his heels making his way towards the elevator she noticed he had forgotten his jacket, “Oh James! Your jacket!” he turned around smiling, “It’s okay! You can return it tomorrow, or keep it actually looks better on you than me.” the sound of the elevator door opening filled the hallway, she watched as Bucky walked in bidding her a small wave before the metal doors closed.

Entering her apartment, she locked the door behind her smiling from ear to ear. Bucky leaned his head agains the walls of the metal box, a huge grin painted his lips. Their friends were right, they would most definitely be going on a second date together.

She had finally met someone, who when he see’s her wants to see her again.

And he had finally met someone, who doesn’t run for the hills once they learn about his past.

#james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

curtain call, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You know that TikTok trend where girls would drop their towels in front of their gamer boyfriends? As expected, Min Yoongi didn’t until he was informed by his six troublemaking friends. In this case, his girlfriend was the pro streamer and he was the guy in the towel... so what’s the result?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; sexually explicit thoughts; smut (fem reader, handjob, cowgirl); very fluffy; non-idol!AU - established relationship, music producer!Yoongi x LoL streamer!reader

“Hahaha, oh my god, chat, did you see that? He bounced so many times from the CC, he literally went sky, holy shit!”

Min Yoongi opened the front door of his apartment to the jovial, laughing voice of his girlfriend. He shut the door, smiling to himself. Her streaming room was in the extra bedroom. The door was open, and he could see the bright RGB lights of her computer tower reflecting off the walls. He took off his black coat, placing it on the hanger in the hall closet.

“Stop cursing because it’s not ladylike?” He heard her scoff. “No, fuck you.”

Yoongi smirked. That’s my girl.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through social media. His friends always told him to reply to their posts, but Yoongi was a lurker. The only reason he even had any social media was because his friends set it up for him. He literally only followed six people – his six friends. Everyone else he just stalked from memory, even his own girlfriend. Mostly because he didn’t want random people following him for no reason, because they most certainly would with how popular she was.

When she had asked him what he thought of her full-time video game streaming, Yoongi told her to go for it. She had been obsessed with League of Legends for over nine years, even before she met him. At their first date, she first question was if he knew what League of Legends was.

“Uh… I got to Gold in season 2?”

Later, she told him his answer had seriously tilted her and she even considered not going on a second date.

“But you did. Because of this face.”

She had laughed and nodded.

She had been playing solo queue for a long time. When she finally started streaming her games, her channel grew slowly. She would immediately start playing after she got home from work. Hours and hours, growing a fanbase. Yoongi later learned she was startlingly good – “I was Master for a long time, got Grandmaster this season” – and when she asked him if she could quit her job, he pointed to her bank statements.

“Do you even need to ask? You might make more than me at one point and I’m Big Hit’s top music producer.”

And she did end up making more than him, at least some months, because the team that picked her up as a content creator this year was none other than T1, the most beloved (and hated) organization in Korea. Had she ever met Faker? No, but it was cool to say she was under the same umbrella as him.

Yoongi rounded the corner, knocking his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Hey.”

You looked up from your game, grinning. Twitch chat had just said some dumb shit, but your eyes were on Min Yoongi now. The love of your life, standing in the doorframe, looking amused at your antics and dressed sharply in a white dress shirt and black slacks with a matching black tie. Very different to your black T1 hoodie and sweats.

“Whoa, fancy, fancy,” you teased, eyes going back to the game. You pushed back one of your headset’s earcups to hear him better. You clicked rapidly, autoattacking the towers swiftly. You were about to win after a hectic Baron fight. “Why are you dressed like that, Yoongi?”

Your chat was exploding with cat emojis. They had only seen Yoongi a few times and someone had compared him to a cat once. It stuck and now every time Yoongi spoke, your chat was spammed with cats. You even had a custom white cat emote made with Yoongi’s signature black hair.

Yoongi appeared next to you on the cam, only his slacks and bottom of his shirt visible next to you. He patted your head.

“Meeting today,” he said simply in his lovely deep voice. The chat was exploding due to Yoongi’s appearance. Everyone was thirsty for him. You couldn’t blame them. You too. “Looks like T1 Curtain Call is kicking ass.”

You fired the last shot at the Nexus, earning fifty gold. Was it necessary since that was the end of the game? Absolutely not, but it gave you bragging rights. You sat back, smirking. You were in your promos to Challenger, the highest rank in the ladder. It would be really exciting if you could make it to Challenger this season.

You turned to Yoongi as you honored your support Nami. “Chat wants you to say hi.”

Yoongi stuck his large hand out in front of the camera and waved it once. “Hey everyone.”

You chuckled as Yoongi retreated his hand. You clicked on the stats for the chat to read before reentering the lobby. T1 Curtain Call. That was your in-game name, or IGN. It was named after your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, mercenary gunman with a sniper ultimate and an obsession with the number four. Your IGN was Jhin’s ultimate ability name. You were an attack-damage carry main, also known as ADC.

You felt Yoongi ruffle your hair, messing it up under your headset.

“Going to take a shower before making dinner. Bye, chat.”

Yoongi stuck his hand in the screen again, right in front of your face.

You leaned forward to read the chat as you queued up. It was going to be a long queue, so you answered questions in the meantime.

“Ask Yoongi to play with you?” You chuckled. “Trust me guys, I’ve tried, even if it was just normals. He’s confused as shit.”

Yoongi worked the shampoo in his hair, feeling the hot water hit his back. Before getting into the shower, Yoongi had gotten multiple texts from the group chat. Normally he would ignore them, because he always ignored the group chat. This time, however, he saw his girlfriend’s name pop up in the texts, along with his name with multiple exclamation points. He frowned at it, opening the chat. He did not like his friends typing her name heedlessly.

It was some dumb TikTok trend.

“Hyung, you gotta do this to noona,” Jeon Jungkook had typed with multiple ‘kekekeke’ behind it. The youngest was an idiot for even suggesting this.

“Please do it,” Kim Taehyung typed with multiple laughing emojis.

“I want to know her reaction,” Park Jimin typed with a bunch of winking faces.

“The fuck is this?” Kim Seokjin had typed. “Oh my god, you have to do it, Yoongi.”

“But don’t film it,” Kim Namjoon warned. “Don’t want to make her look bad or anything.”

Jung Hoseok had just typed multiple laughing symbols. Yoongi could hear him laughing through the phone even if he wasn’t here.

It was a stupid trend where girls wrapped themselves in towels after a shower and then dropped said towels in front of their gamer boyfriends while they were playing, with varying reactions. Yoongi had sighed, putting his phone down. He shouldn’t have clicked on the chat. Those guys were loons. Besides, his role was reversed in his situation. A guy’s flaccid dick was a thousand times less interesting than his girlfriend’s perky tits and round ass. And her squeezable thighs. And her glistening pussy.

Yoongi rinsed his hair off, muttering to himself.

Why would he even consider distracting her like that anyway? He rubbed soap on his arms and legs. She took her games seriously and Yoongi wanted her to win them. It would just be dumb to be the reason that she dies in game. It was her job, after all. It was true they had less sex, but that was also partially his fault. He had been working on an album and it ran long hours. He had to finish before the deadline after all. Yes, sometimes Yoongi woke up late at night with a massive hard-on and her warm body next to him, only in her underwear. Sometimes he took her hand and wrapped it around him, considering on waking her up to do it.

But her peaceful, sleepy face was too cute to wake up, so he never did.

Yoongi puffed his cheeks as he rinsed off, thinning his mouth and eyes into lines. They used to mess around, right here in the shower, where he would jerk off on her face and chest, just to watch it drip down her body. He could see her pretty face in his mind, cum sprayed across her cheeks and chin, mischievous smile on her lips. They had different schedules now, so she always showered before her stream, while he was at work.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and turned the water off, body still hot. He grabbed the white towel from the rack and dried his hair, making it stick up in every direction. He rubbed himself down, wicking the water away. It made him remember how her hair used to stick to her body after their shared showers and how he would lift it away to play with her nipples.

He huffed, seeing his phone on the bathroom sink. His friends needed help. How could they even suggest such nonsen–

Yoongi tried to wrap his towel around his waist. He could feel a draft. He looked down, raising his eyebrows.

His dick was pitching a music-festival, VIP-member-only sized tent.

Well.

He pursed his lips. He shouldn’t be that surprised. He had literally been thinking about his girlfriend’s naked body the entire time. His eyes glanced to his phone once again before he opened the bathroom door. He heard her sigh loudly.

“Noooo, that’s the third dodge! Am I ever going to play a game, chat?” she whined.

Yoongi padded out into the hallway. Technically he was already halfway there. Might as well. Was this the stupidest shit he was ever going to do? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to expect it, that’s for sure. The thought made Yoongi smirk.

“When is Jungkook going to duo with me again? I don’t know guys; he said he has finals soon so he has to focus on school.” He heard her click her tongue. “Get him on cam again? Oh, I see, that’s what you all wanted... At least let him get through university.”

Yoongi stopped at the doorframe. Her hands were on her chin and she was sighing, looking depressed at her long queue time.

“Ah, so unlucky. It must be everyone’s dinnertime.”

He called her name in the same tone he usually used.

Her head lifted and her eyes floated in his direction.

Yoongi dropped the towel.

In less than a second, her eyes grew three sizes, jaw dropping. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, shading his eyes a bit. He cocked an eyebrow, slow smirk on his lips.

“Anything you want for dinner?”

What.

The.

FUCK?

You heard your queue pop, but you were frozen in place, gawking open-mouthed at your boyfriend standing in the doorframe of your streaming room, butt-ass naked, cock hard as a rock, towel on the ground. Did he just..? What the…? This was Min Yoongi. Your mild-mannered, somewhat-lazy, preferred-to-be-asleep boyfriend. Not suddenly-trying-to-send-you-to-horny-jail-in-front-of-three-thousand viewers boyfriend! You blinked at him, stuttering.

“Y-Yoongi…?”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Your voice was a little too breathless, a little too shocked. And slightly too needy for Twitch chat. Your face was heating up fast. You whipped your head back to the screen, realizing you missed the queue. At this point, you didn’t give a single shit.

“You know what, guys,” you said shakily, laughing awkwardly. “I better help Yoongi with dinner and be a good girlfriend.” You rose, feeling the wetness between your legs. “See you tomorrow!”

And you immediately turned off the stream, fuck, you turned off your whole damn computer, mashing the power button, and throwing one of your spare hoodies over the webcam. You exploded from your T1 gaming chair, literally shooting it back three feet into the League plushes behind you, ripping your headset off, tossing it onto the keyboard. Yoongi looked surprised, as if he expected you to be demurer about it.

Yeah, that’s not kind of woman you were.

“Min Yoon-gi,” you hissed, stressing every syllable of his name. “How the fuck do you think you can just show up naked and not expect me to want to immediately fuck you?”

Yoongi chuckled. “I wanted to see your reaction.”

You narrowed your eyes, pressing him against the door with your body. “You don’t watch TikTok. Who put you up to this? Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook?”

His voice was low and husky. “You know the mankae line are trouble.”

Your hand snaked up into his damp hair and you pulled him down for a sensual kiss. His soft, pink lips parted and you nipped at his lower lip, grinding deliciously into his hard cock. Your sweatpants and underwear were in the way, but you moaned into his mouth, tongue grazing against his lips.

Mentally, you thanked the three mankaes for giving Yoongi this wonderful idea.

He breathed against your lips, smirking.

“How many pieces of clothing are you wearing?” he purred.

You grinned into his kiss, tongue between your teeth. “Four.”

“On brand for you.”

And then you two stumbled into the hallway, Yoongi’s hands on the hem of your hoodie, pushing it up as you kissed him over and over, whispering his name, telling him how handsome he was, how perfectly sexy he was with his wet hair and soft skin. His lips curved upwards under yours, basking in your compliments, drinking them up.

“Count for me,” he drawled, pulling the black T1 hoodie up.

You slipped out of it, sliding down, hands splaying over Yoongi’s chest.

“One.”

He tossed it aside as your hand wrapped around his cock. A sharp gasp left his lips feeling you stroke him slowly, your hand snaking around his neck and bringing his face close to yours, lips on lips. His hands curled around your waist, moving up, grasping the hook-and-eye of your black bra. All the while slowly making your way to the bedroom, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue.

Yoongi pinched, releasing your bra. You released his cock, letting it slide off your shoulders.

“Two,” you moaned, feeling his hands on your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“Hah, your body is so fucking hot,” Yoongi murmured. “Missed fucking you.”

You snickered, licking his lips. “Why don’t you actually try to wake me up for once instead of using my hand to jack yourself off at two in the morning?”

His dark brown eyes went wide, shock creeping into his voice. “W-what? How did you…?”

You pushed him through the doorframe of the bedroom. “You think I don’t notice your dick in my hands?” You reached down now, gripping it again, sighing softly at his hardness. “I’m a light sleeper.”

He sputtered at you, fingers curling under the waistband of your sweatpants. “No, you’re not.”

You grinned. “Yeah, you’re right, but this your cock we’re talking about, and I love your cock, Yoongi, fuck,” you continued, pumping him slowly as you felt his length twitch in your hands, his hands pushing down your pants, sliding down your legs.

“Three,” he breathed softly.

You took his larger hand and wrapped it around yours, stepping out of your pants.

“Go on, Yoongi. Show me what you do when you think I’m asleep,” you said softly, nudging him to the bed and laying him down, down, crawling over him, staring into his beautiful dark eyes, falling more and more in love with him every second. Yoongi bit his lip, looking back at you, shifting your hand up and down his cock, whimpering as he jacked himself off, but with your hand and your eyes on him.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” he mumbled. “Such perfectly shaped eyes.”

You leaned down, squeezing him a little harder, a tiny gasp brushing against your lips. “That’s you, my love.”

He smirked, his free hand hooking on the side of your panties.

“Hit me with the fourth shot,” Yoongi teased, grinning.

You kissed him lightly, smiling. “That’s going to be a critical hit.”

“Better be a critical hit all over my dick.”

You laughed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the drawer, taking out a condom. The two of you pulled down your black panties, Yoongi completing the final number.

“Four,” he exhaled, nearly moaning at the sight of your juices snapping against your thigh.

“Me on top?” you asked, ripping the condom open.

Yoongi’s naughty smirk grew. “You do love me.”

You slid the condom down his length, both of you gasping as his cock throbbed in your hands. You slid up, holding him with two fingers as you sank down on him, tipping your head back at the feeling of Yoongi’s cock buried deep inside.

“I’ve determined we don’t fuck enough,” you muttered, rolling your hips at the delicious sensation of being stretched out by your lover.

“I should wake up earlier,” Yoongi hissed, hands twisting in the sheets. “So we can shower together again.”

“You miss that?” You began to move, riding him deliberately slow but rough, slapping your hips together. You were leaking all over his crotch and balls, adding to the sound. “Miss me on my knees for you, wet from head to toe?”

“Hah… I was thinking about it in the shower,” he panted, feeling you lean down to change the angle, rolling the entire lower half of your body to fuck him hard, fast, intensely squeezing his cock at every descent. “You look so good covered in my cum, my love.”

You smirked, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? Take some pictures. Show your friends.”

Yoongi laughed, that attractive raspy laugh that showed his pink gums and his pretty white teeth as you rode him, chasing your orgasm and determined to get him to his. “They fucking wish they could see this body,” he growled, a touch of possessiveness in his voice that made your spine shiver deliciously. “Bet they wish they could see you riding my dick right now, your perfect tits and ass bouncing on top of me.”

You clenched him harder and he moaned, head pressed into the pillows, eyes closing, drowning in the feeling of you.

“Ask them,” you snickered. “I already know Jimin’s answer.”

Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk. “That fucking pervert.”

You slammed your hips together tightening your jaw and your core, sucking in his entire length, every contour imprinted into you, every vein pulsing into your walls, Yoongi so fucked out and gone under you, the best image in the entire fucking world. You leaned your head back, gasping triumphantly as the pleasure finally dropped, showering over you, your hips shaking, pussy throbbing all around him, splattering onto his crotch. Yoongi groaned, smacking his fists against the sheets as he shot up into you, cock swelling against your walls, choking out your name due to the strength of your orgasm. You felt your pussy milking him for every drop, draining him. Yoongi’s hips jerked involuntarily up towards you, squelching loudly and lewdly.

Fuck, you loved him.

You bent down, hand between your bodies, holding the condom down as you kissed his open mouth, tongue sliding in to stroke his, murmuring to him how much you loved him. Yoongi panted into your lips, hot erotic breaths that made you moan as you slowly removed yourself from his softening cock. He opened his eyes, half-lidded, drunk with pleasure. His voice was breathless, content.

“I love you.”

You smirked.

“Drop your towel some more, but maybe when I’m not live streaming.”

Yoongi laughed and you laughed too, because in the end it was still hilarious.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 2

a/n: thank you all so so sooooo much for the love on the first part of cstsyl ❤️ i hope you guys like part 2 just as much, and please reblog/leave me any feedback if you can as if really just makes me smile and helps with the engagement and blah blah blah u know the drill lol

and thank you to the lovely jill @havethetimeofyourstyles, jess @arrogantstyles and wendy @bookwormandtea for beta reading for me!

word count: 15k

warnings: mentions of death, couples fighting, awkward silence in elevators, and addicting candy cane pretzels.

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

They were fighting again. Y/N’s voice was booming through the walls, her boyfriend’s echoing after hers. Harry tries his best to focus on anything but their voices, but he can’t. It doesn’t make him feel all that great listening to the girl he had only seen smile and had been making laugh over the past two weeks, now yelling on the other side of the wall between them.

Harry plucks a soft melody on his guitar as he lounges on his couch. His hands absentmindedly playing the four chords that have been stuck in his head all morning while he attempts to write lyrics to the melody. Only, he was having a bit of trouble doing so as he listened to Y/N’s voice again.

“Honestly, Mark! Really?” Y/N’s shouting is muffled, but Harry hears her still. “You really think that it doesn’t bother…” The rest of her words are a bit harder to hear as she quiets her voice. Harry never imagined he’d hear her raise her voice like that. That soft, sweet and gentle tone that he has spent dreaming about for weeks now.

Harry’s still plucking the chords he’s grown obsessed with, humming along while zoning out on the blank tv in front of him. He feels selfish, and rather ridiculous too, not wanting to imagine Y/N with another man. But he also feels selfish that he’s not upset over the fact they’re fighting for the third time in two days. Harry shakes his head and scolds himself for the thought. Regardless of his feelings, he shouldn't want Y/N to feel this way. He can tell these couple days must’ve been hard on her, working all day and then coming home to only end up in a yelling match with her prick of a boyfriend.

Harry rolls his eyes and notices that the shouting has stopped. The silence of his apartment, aside from his guitar, only makes him feel a bit sadder.

“I’m selfish, I know,” Harry sings, “but I don’t ever want to see you with him.”

Suddenly, his phone chimes from where it’s sat on the table, signalling an incoming phone call from Mitch. A picture of the two of them together in the studio last spring shows on the screen, Mitch tucked under Harry’s arm as they’re both slouching into the couch they sat on. Harry reaches for his phone and swipes his finger across the screen to accept his call.

“Hey,” Harry mutters into the phone, focusing on getting together his notebook and cleaning up the few torn crumpled pieces of paper littering his coffee table.

“Hey, you leaving your place soon?” Mitch asks. Harry can hear traffic in the background, meaning that he had already left his place that's located much closer to the studio than his own apartment is. Moving his shoulder up a little, he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands as he sets his guitar into the open case that’s sitting on the chaise lounge of his couch. Then scrambling around to gather the scrap paper and glass of water he had, standing up with his trash in hand to throw away and glass in the other to put in the sink.

“Just about to,” Harry answers honestly, making his way into his kitchen to clean up. He sighs after clearing his hands and returns his phone to his left hand to hold now.

“You get busy with that neighbour of yours again. Got a new crush, H?” Mitch teases him. Rolling his eyes, Harry brushes a hand on his light wash jeans before patting his pocket to make sure his thin wallet was still there.

“No,” he mutters, obviously lying to his best mate - which Mitch is very aware of as he hums in response. “I’ll be there in, like, 20 if the tube isn’t a horror show.”

“You’ve lived here for nearly 3 years now, think you can call it the subway yet?”

“Nope,” Harry sighs. There were a few things his British instincts kicked in for; many different phrases and words he knew would stick in his vocabulary despite how many years he’s been in the U.S. Harry’s grabbing his green winter coat and slipping on his boots as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear again. “Should I grab the gang some coffee on my way? Seeing as I’ll probably be the last to arrive,” Harry says in a tight voice, his annoyance from hearing Y/N and her boyfriend still clear even in his phone call with his mate.

“Don’t count on it. Tom hasn't answered his phone all morning, so something tells me he’s preoccupied,” Mitch suggests. Harry recalls the text he had gotten from his friend Tom, saying that he and the Missus were planning to celebrate their anniversary early this year. Mitch seems to be hinting that their celebrations have fallen into the morning too. Harry bets that Tom being MIA was because of his two children. The two of them knew how to gang up on their dad already at a young age—he couldn't imagine how they’d be when they grew up.

“He’s a dad, Mitch, that's probably what he’s preoccupied with,” Harry states. After putting on his coat, he walks over to clasp the case for his guitar closed and heaves it up before heading for the door.

“Point being, don’t bother with coffee. I’m in line at Starbucks anyways. Did you want anything?” Mitch asks.

“A slice or two of the banana loaf, please,” Harry requests, his stomach growling at the thought of food. Time had slipped by him this morning, listening to Y/N and her boyfriend argue, and he hadn’t eaten more than an apple for breakfast.

Harry double checks the lights are off in his apartment before shutting the door behind him, setting his guitar down to rest on the wall to his left, and locking it quickly. Mitch is complaining in his ear about some Karen at the front of the line. Harry chuckles at his friends colourful words and picks up his guitar, not sparing a glance at Y/N’s door as he walks to the elevator and hits the down button to call it to his floor. Not even a ten seconds go by and he hears someone exiting their apartment behind him. Harry doesn’t want to look over his shoulder to check, not wanting to see Mark and Y/N walking hand in hand towards him. So, he keeps his eyes trained up on the red numbers rising above the elevator doors, signalling it’s arrival, soon hopefully.

“Hey, Harry right?” Mark questions, pointing a finger at Harry as him and Y/N stepped up to the elevator. Y/N tries her best not to frown. She hates the way Harry doesn’t smile at her first before meeting Mark’s eyes and nodding.

“Hey,” Harry says. He turns his head and catches Y/N’s gaze. “What are you guys up to?”

Y/N knows he’s simply being polite, something Mark wouldn’t care to be - seeing as he’s already got his phone out of his pocket, and is staring at the screen as he answers. “Y/N’s driving me to the airport,” he states.

Harry looks at Mark, anger bubbling inside of him as he clutches the guitar case in his hand. The elevator doors open then, a light bing! coming from inside. Mark enters first, not even bothering to look at Y/N or Harry, but then Harry waves his free hand in motion to let Y/N walk in before him. She smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she walks into the small space and stands beside Mark.

“Thanks,” she says in a soft voice as Harry hits the button for the lobby. She takes note of the guitar case in his hand. “Are you heading to the studio?” She asks, pointing to the bulky item he’s carrying.

Harry looks down at his guitar case, “yeah, last day before everyone gets their break.”

“No more counting down the days then, huh?” She asks, mentioning their previous discussion about how people typically countdown the days till they have time off - her included this year. But Harry had mentioned that he wasn’t looking forward to his days away from the studio. He didn’t think she’d remember that.

“Counting the days till I’m back in the studio now,” Harry says. Y/N smiles and Harry’s heart bursts at the sight. Having heard her raised voice earlier today, being sure a scowl was etched on her face, he was glad to see her lips turned upward. Mark clears his throat then, causing both Y/N and Harry to quit looking into each other's eyes and step back into reality - her boyfriend was right beside them.

“Studio? What are you, a singer or something?” Mark asks Harry. His eyes catch sight of Mark’s arm snaking around Y/N’s back, resting lazily on her left hip as they stood there. Harry licked his lips and almost nodded, but was quick to catch himself and shook his head instead. “What kind of studio then? Movies?” Mark continues to question him.

“A music studio, I’m just a musician,” Harry answers.

“Oh,” Mark says, “cool,” he adds with a shrug. The elevator doors open and Mark guides him and Y/N out of the small space. “Well, see ya around, ‘Arry,” Mark says with a smug look, trying to mimic his accent. But he butchers it, of course, sounding more like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Mark then waves and turns himself and Y/N to the right of the lobby that leads to the stairwell that went down to the underground parking lot.

Y/N only gets to give Harry a quick smile before Mark turns her away. She wants to apologize for Mark’s ridiculous behaviour, feeling embarrassed by it. She also wanted to say that Harry wasn't just a musician, he was a songwriter too, which therefore meant he was a storyteller, and in her eyes songwriters were some of the most creative and talented people. Y/N wanted to shut Mark up and start bragging about Harry, like he was her boyfriend and Mark was just some dumb prick.

Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and licks them, glancing quickly over her shoulder before getting to the door. Her eyes meet Harry’s intense stare, him looking over his shoulder at her too, and her stomach erupts with butterflies. But then it flips and flops with nerves and her hands suddenly being tugged on by her boyfriend, holding open the door with his hip as he walks them through the doorway and out of Harry’s sight.

Harry finds himself thinking about Y/N the whole way to the studio—as if he hasn’t stopped thinking about her and her boyfriend over the past couple days anyways. Did she ever mention being in a relationship, even in the most subtle way? Did he misinterpret her kindness for flirting like an absolute idiot? These questions were on a loop inside of his head until he walked into the studio, flashed the front desk his ID badge, and headed to studio B where he and his mates would be working today.

“And he’s made it,” Mitch announces as Harry pushes closed the door and walks the few steps to his left where the brown leather couch was against the wall. Adam is sitting on the couch, the phone in his hand chimes as he types on it quickly, merely giving Harry a quick smile before looking back at the screen. Mitch is standing by the switch board, leaning back against it as he stares Harry down. Next to him is Tom, sitting in his chair and facing his many computer screens as he gets everything up and going for the day.

“And I see we were both wrong and Tom beat me,” Harry states. He sets his guitar down, leaning it against the side of the couch before sitting himself down beside Adam.

“I wasn’t answering my phone because I was already on my way over here way before any of you slowpokes, and then I turned off my ringer once I got in here,” Tom explains, leaning back in his chair while his eyes stay on the screen. But then he twirls around, facing Harry and Adam, and gives Adam a bored look. “Like we all agreed to do, right Adam?”

“Relax, I’ll do it after I send this last text,” Adam says.

“Sure,” Tom mutters, swivelling his chair back around and grabbing the mouse to continue his set up.

“Jeez, Tommy,” Mitch chuckles, “did you not get any last night or something? What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Harry’s eyebrows pull down as he takes in his friends stiff posture as Mitch’s words seem to sink in. “Wasn’t it your anniversary date last night?” He questions, keeping his voice light and not as daunting as Mitch’s had been.

Tom turns back around to face the boys and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but then our babysitter called and was all freaked out and of course Jenny got all freaked out too. I tried to tell her it wasn’t that big of a deal and they could handle it, but we still ended up leaving our hotel room at nine o’clock and dealt with our two crying children who just missed their mommy. I was in bed by eleven.” Tom explains his night, ending with rubbing a hand up and down his face as he was clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

“That’s just life as a parent, man,” Adam states. “Emi and I didn’t have a single date night till Spike was five,” he adds with a shrug.

“Yeah, I get it but it’s just upsetting to have this whole night planned and then it not happen,” Tom says. Harry knew that feeling; he may have not had a full anniversary night away planned like Tom did, but the other day he was racking up things to do with Y/N before he was introduced to her boyfriend.

Harry zones out, eyes glued on the coffee table in front of him as he sighs softly, leaning back into the couch as he was getting wrapped up in his thought of Y/N, again. I could still be her friend, he thinks. Even though it’d hurt to see her with her boyfriend, to hear about a date night or see them kiss. The ache already begins in Harry’s chest as the mere thought of it, and he finds himself bringing a hand up and rubbing over his heart subconsciously.

“Harry,” Mitch calls, forcing Harry to snap out of his thoughts and look up at where he stood. He raises his eyebrows, making Harry think that he had said his name more than once but was ignored.

“What’s going on?” Tom asks Harry.

“He’s probably thinking about his latest little crush,” Mitch smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who is it this time?” Adam asks in a monotone voice.

“His new neighbour. Supposedly, she’s rather beautiful in Harry’s eyes,” Mitch teases.

“Not just in my eyes,” Harry mumbles, looking at his lap and picking off an invisible piece of lint.

“What do you mean?” Tom questions.

Harry hears Tom’s chair squeak suddenly, making Harry assume that he must be leaning back in it again. Harry looks up to see he’s right - Tom’s got his arms crossed at his chest like Mitch while they’re both staring him down. Harry lets out a sigh and shakes his head, leaning further into the back of the couch while he licks his lips and looks anywhere but at his friends’ faces - not wanting to see their taunting looks when he tells them.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Harry says in a low voice.

Mitch inhales a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth as he walks over and clamps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s tough man,” he says.

Harry shakes his head again and sits up, causing Mitch’s hand to fall off his shoulder. “It’s not just tough. I get I have these crushes on people a lot, but I don’t know, there was just something different between us. We really clicked and I just thought we’d at least get to go out a few times,” he speaks softly into the quiet room,the support of some of his closest mates surrounding him.

“Have you written about how you’re feeling?” Tom asks. Harry nods and reaches for his guitar without a second thought, taking it out of the case and positioning the instrument in his lap.

“This is gonna be good,” Mitch nods his head and rolls over the second chair that occupied the room. Harry shakes his head at his friends comment.

“I’ve just had this tune in my head for a couple days now, and I’ve only come up with a few lyrics really, so I don’t know how good it will be,” he explains.

Harry plays the song he’s been playing all morning for the other three in the room. The soft acoustic guitar fills the silence, the twang from his guitar strings echoing off the walls. Harry shuts his eyes and lets his voice build up as he sings the two lines he’s been thinking about for a few days now. He feels it deep in his chest, the truth behind his words. Suddenly, more lyrics filter out of his mouth that hadn’t come up before.

“I’m selfish I know,” he sings, “I’d tell you but I know you’d never listen.”

It’s not entirely the truth, because he’s sure that Y/N would listen to anything he had to say. He’s also sure that if he walked up to her right now, ran out of this studio and back to the apartment and waited outside her door, begging for her to break up with him, that she wouldn’t listen. Harry believes that she’s a better person than that - that regardless if she felt what he had over their past few encounters, she wouldn’t listen to what he wanted and would figure things out herself.

“I hope you can see, the shape that I’m in,” Tom suddenly sings along to the tune that Harry’s still playing. Harry opens his eyes in a flash and looks at his friend, but Tom’s back is already to him as he’s facing his computer again. “I have the perfect piano and drums mix for this. I’ve had it kind of hidden away for the right time and I think this is it.”

And that’s when the magic happens. Harry puts down his guitar and gets right into the lyrics, pouring himself into yet another song. He lets his feelings out about the situation he’s gotten himself into with Y/N, and mixes it with some poetry he’s written previously in his journal. You flower, you feast, is something he’s had for quite some time but had never felt it really fit into any of his other songs. And yet somehow in this song full of duck noises, a guitar solo, and many lalalala’s, it somehow found its place.

Not to mention that Mitch absolutely murders the guitar solo. His long hair acts as a curtain as he sways to the music and lets himself go. Nearly every time that Mitch goes in for a solo, he doesn’t remember what he plays because he’s in such a trance, so Tom has to play it back for him if he needs to fix anything up. Overall, the song inspired by Y/N and her shit boyfriend is pretty great.

“Anything else you’ve got to bring to the table, Harry?” Tom asks after nearly six hours of working on perfecting their new song ‘Woman’ - named solely because of the repeating of the word in the course, which was chosen because he felt like he was calling out to Y/N in this song. Saying woman over and over again at her in hopes to get her attention. He simply shrugs and stretches back into the couch, sprawling his legs out in front of him while staring down at his journal that’s sitting in his lap.

“I’ve been writing this one based off a man I see everyday during my breakfast at the cafe down the street from my apartment,” he says. Harry clears his throat and sort of talk-sings what his idea of the melody is with the lyrics he’s got. “Nine in the morning, man drops his kids off at school. And he’s thinking of you, like all of us do. Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon, around one thirty two.”

“Alright, I like it,” Adam nods his head.

“Who’s he thinking of?” Mitch teases, “like all of us do,” he adds with a smirk. His lips then wrap around the straw that was in the can of Pepsi he had gotten from the mini fridge a while ago. Harry rolls his eyes and kicks out his foot in order to nudge Mitch’s leg from where he’s sitting in the desk chair he’s gotten comfortable in.

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles. Adam, Mitch and Tom all chuckle at their friend’s pout, which just makes him smile. He knew that coming into the studio and writing and making music about his situation with Y/N would ultimately make it feel even a little bit better. During the making of their newest song, his friends did give him some advice.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out, H,” Adam had said with a smile.

But there’s no way of knowing how he’ll feel when he bumps into her again, whether she’s with her boyfriend or not.

It’s been a tough few days for Y/N. Not only has work been crazy because not one, but two interns got sick with a stomach bug; meaning she was currently filling their job on top of her own and running around the city - but she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry.

She is in her own head again as she walks into the Gucci store on Fifth Ave. for the third time in two days. As Greg approaches her, she appreciates his light pink suit with a white ruffled shirt underneath. His bald head shines under the lights of the store, but that smile was much brighter and obviously, professionally whiten. Greg gives her a kiss on the cheek, saying they are a bit behind with her packages since it’s such a busy time for them as well. Y/N just nods and gives him a smile, accepting the flute of champagne as she takes a seat and waits. This is honestly the first time she’s gotten a chance to sit all day, but of course, she spends it zoning out on a sparkly dress hung up a few feet away from her as her mind begins to think of anything but work.

Mark and her started dating only a mere four months ago. After meeting at a bar in the Upper East Side, he practically stalked her - which isn't too hard considering her social media following - and sent her flowers to work for three days straight till she agreed to go on a date with him. Turned out that he wasn’t just some business man out on the town with some work buddies, but an heir to one of the country's biggest companies. Therefore, meaning that when the gossip started of the two of them seeing each other, Y/N’s mom was the first person to call.

“You hit the jackpot, baby!” She basically screamed into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N only rolled her eyes at her mothers words. Her mother was the typical New Jersey girl that grew up with big dreams of pinning down a wealthy New York City man - and kudos to her for doing it. Her dad, bless his heart, was an older naive man who somehow managed to fertilize her mother’s gold digging eggs and voila, Y/N was born. But with that being said, Y/N was lucky enough to have family money, so she never felt the need to be in a relationship just because a man had more in his bank account. She also had better morals than her mother, and knew that money wasn’t a factor when you really loved someone. So no, Mark was not the jackpot because of his bank account. Y/N just thought he was really nice and attractive too, so she agreed to be his girlfriend those four months ago. But it wasn’t till a month ago that that nice streak ended.

All of a sudden Y/N’s cell phone is ringing. She blinks out of her daze to realize she’s finished her glass of champagne while so deep in thought. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the screen to see it’s Mark calling. His ears must be burning, Y/N thinks.

“Hey,” Y/N answers softly, crossing a leg over the other and resting her elbow on her knee as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Hey, babe,” Mark sighs. Y/N knows right away what he’s about to tell her, all by the tone of his voice and the use of that nickname. He used it when he asked her to drive him to the airport yesterday, which he forgot to mention he needed her to do till an hour before he had to leave - resulting in Y/N being very behind on work for the day.

“How’s Arizona?” Y/N asks politely anyway, mentioning the state he was in for business this time around. He was always traveling for work; his father wants him to know all the branch executives, so therefore he’s been to pretty much every state in the country over the course of six months. The moment they started to date Y/N knew he’d be working a lot, but she didn’t expect him to be working all over the country. She’s lucky if she gets a weekend with him, and honestly, she was looking forward to the almost two weeks work free they’d be getting together. But something told her that was not going to happen.

“It’s good, hot,” he says, seeming distracted by something in the background to which he moves the phone away from his mouth to respond to someone around him. “No, no, not those, the red ones,” he orders.

“Mark?” Y/N questions, keeping her voice down as Greg and one of his associates come from the backroom then with a few boxes in hand. “I’m just a bit busy with work, was there a reason for you calling, hun?”

“Right…Well, unfortunately my time at the Arizona office will be extended. So, I’m not going to make it back to New York before Christmas,” Mark explains. Y/N frowns at his words even though it’s just as she imagined when she answered his call.

“When will you be back?” She asks, her eyebrows pulled together and lip pouting out slightly.

“That’s the thing, there’s really no point in me flying back to the East Coast so close to the holidays when I’ve got to be in Los Angeles for my family’s big festivities.”

“Oh,” Y/N says. She’s only sad for a moment, noticing that Mark is distracted by something in the background once again as his voice is muffled. “So when exactly are you planning to come back to the city, Mark?” She asks as she sits up and projects her voice louder into her phone. Greg and his associate seem to notice Y/N demeanour change, his baby blue eyes widening slightly as he sets the boxes down on the couch beside her.

“I don’t know-”

Y/N doesn’t let him speak, though, her anger getting the best of her for what feels like the millionth time since she began dating Mark. It’s so unlike her, she thinks. She shakes her head and says, “you don’t plan to come back to New York and spend any part of the holidays with your girlfriend? Your girlfriend who very much loves the holidays, by the way.”

“I’m aware of your love for the holidays, Y/N, little hard to not know when your apartment looks like a four year old decorated it with all that crap,” Mark huffs into the phone, his voice matching her tone.

“Oh my god, whatever, Mark,” Y/N snaps in a low voice, having to take a deep breath as she stares down at the floor. “Just go and have fun on the West Coast, don’t worry one bit about me ‘cause it seems you haven’t bothered to to begin with,” Y/N finds herself seething into the phone, keeping her voice low before pulling her phone away from her ear and hanging up before he can say one more thing to upset her.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Focusing on making her heart beat slow down and her hands to stop shaking. Did she just break up with him? No, no I didn’t say the words, I didn’t say it’s over and maybe I should have, Y/N thinks while letting out another short breath through her nose. She did not deserve this and she knew she didn’t, and yet she keeps putting up with his extended work trips and him disrespecting her opinions. Mark wanted a woman like Y/N’s mother. One that didn’t have her own hobbies and her own dreams, and who just wanted to be on his arm and live with whatever he put them through. Or did she even give him a real chance? That little voice in the back of her head, the one that was planted by her own mother, asks her.

“You look like you need another glass, mi amor,” Greg says softly, bringing her to open her eyes once more and realize that she did in fact just have a fight with her boyfriend over the phone in public. In front of a supplier too. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Thankfully, she thought of Greg as more of a friend than in a professional view. She smiles at him, forcing it, while he holds up the bottle of champagne and fills her glass.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he nods, turning to his left to grab the second tall glass and fills it as well. Y/N chuckles as he brings it to his own mouth and has a sip. “What? The holidays are stressful, I deserve a glass too every once in a while.” Y/N only laughs again and raises her flute, Greg lifts his own to cheers her before they both take a sip. “Did you want to talk about it?” He asks after a beat of silence.

Y/N licks her lips, tasting the expensive champagne all over again. “It’s just,” Y/N sighs and runs a hand through her hair before she continues, “I thought that Mark was different when I first met him. He sent flowers to my work and took me to nice restaurants. He seemed to be really into me, and now, he’s really into his work and he thinks my love for the holidays is childish, and that my opinions and my time don’t matter. So, I’m starting to think I jumped into this relationship, maybe a bit too fast all because my mom approved of his last name and Sammy thought he was hot.” Y/N rants in a rush of words, bringing her flute to her lips afterwards for another sip.

Greg doesn’t respond right away, instead he too sips his champagne and looks around the room they sat in. He sighs and brings a hand down on Y/N’s thigh, causing her to look at him. He smiles and gives her a comforting pat.

“You are a young woman in New York City who’s really got her shit together, you know your worth, Y/N,” Greg says. Y/N mirrors his smile, feeling the back of her eyes threaten with tears at his sweet words. “You’ll know what to do about this man,” he adds with a wink. Greg removes his hand and lifts his flute to finish off his champagne. “Plus, men are trash anyways,” he mutters as his eyes wander around the room that’s quickly filling up with customers.

Y/N laughs, “yes, Greg, they can be.” She agrees. But there’s one man that comes to her mind. One with enchanting green eyes, beautiful dimples, a contagious laugh, and a certain swoon worthy accent.

And yet, Y/N is not surprised when her thoughts drift off to Harry again. In fact, she thinks about him the entire way back to her office, the few boxes from Greg in her arms as she travels on the subway and walks carefully on the slushy shovelled snow that covers the sidewalks. What is he up to today? She thinks, knowing that he must’ve gotten home from the studio late yesterday - maybe even this morning. She worked late on emails last night, only having her Christmas playlist playing softly from her TV, and she didn’t hear him get home. She wonders if he sleeps in when he does that, or if he still manages to get up early and do whatever it is he does every day. She doesn’t know his daily routine, but she admits to herself that she’s curious.

Having done the errands that were needed for the day, Y/N ends up sitting at her desk for the remaining three hours of her work day. Her and Amanda go over new interns to hire, seeing as Y/N’s boss doesn’t want her away from the office doing intern work forever. And then she and Sammy are walking out of the building together at five o’clock sharp. They endured yet another eleven hour work day today. And this was one of the easiest days this week, since it was spent shopping around and organizing the office. Tomorrow there would be two A-list clients coming in for their last styling of the year, both finalizing their outfits for the upcoming Grammy awards too.

“You seem off today,” Sammy says as they walk down the stairs to the subway.

“I, um,” Y/N licks her lips and narrows her eyes at the screen that reads when the next stop would be. She looks at her friend and sighs. “I got into a fight with Mark earlier,” she states.

“Another one?” Sammy questions, raising a brow and giving her a look that said ‘really?’.

“Yup,” Y/N says, rolling her lips into her mouth and nodding. “He’s too busy with work to come back to the city for the rest of the month, said he doesn’t see the point in coming back even for a day before he has to go back home to the West Coast. So, I ended up yelling at him in the middle of the Gucci store.”

“Are you for real?” Sammy asks in shock, his eyes widening as Y/N explains what her boyfriend had told her earlier.

“Yup,” she repeats, nodding her head again too. “Oh, and he said my apartment looked like a four year old decorated it and it looked like crap,” Y/N chuckles, realizing now how stupid Mark’s fighting words were.

“Y/N,” Sammy sighs, “dump him,” he says while placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get that you wanted to give this guy a chance, but all you guys ever do is fight and I don’t want to say it but I’m going to,” he sighs again dramatically, “I’ve seen you smile over that new neighbour of yours more than Mark in the past few weeks. That’s a sign.”

“But what if I didn’t give Mark a real chance? And what if I’m just playing Harry up in my head-”

“No, none of that,” Sammy shakes his head and stares deep into Y/N’s eyes. “You are the most polite and sweetest person I’ve ever met. There’s no way in hell you didn’t give Mark a chance, hell you gave him a million chances, let’s face it. And as for Harry, you’ll never know unless you get to know him.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as Sammy drops his hand and tilts his head to the side. She notices the platform getting busier and louder then, as the subway makes way towards them from the North. This was her ride, while Sammy had to wait another ten minutes for the one that went to Brooklyn. Y/N thinks about what Sammy had said. Maybe she did give Mark plenty of chances and maybe their time was up, but that doesn’t mean she feels comfortable jumping right back into the game of dating with Harry. Plus, how bad would that make her look. Harry would probably think she didn’t care about relationships and typically shuffled around boys, which was so far from her case. In fact it was why she was so hesitant to date Mark in the first place - she didn’t like to give her time and love to just anyone. It’s just too bad she didn’t realize that Mark wasn’t worth it sooner.

“If I’m just getting out of this relationship with Mark, I can’t just start dating Harry,” Y/N exclaims to Sammy.

“I didn’t say date him right away, I said get to know him,” Sammy states, “hang out, be his friend, and if things happen then they happen. The world works in funny ways,” Sammy says matter of factly, pointing a finger at her while she starts taking a few steps towards the subway that’s coming to a stop. “We’ll talk later! Dump the fucking guy though!” Sammy shouts as Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes while getting into the mass of people cramming on the subway.

“Yeah, dump the son of a bitch,” a croaky voice startles Y/N as she gets through the door. An elderly woman is smiling back at her, her yellow teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she smiles wickedly at Y/N. She chuckles awkwardly and nods, walking across the space to an open seat.

Opening her purse, she finds her Airpods and puts them into her ears. They connect to her phone automatically and she begins to tap on her phone, deciding on which playlist she wants to listen to on her way home. Once she clicks shuffle on her ‘girl freaking power’ playlist, she turns it all the way up and lets the anger in Halsey’s voice fuel her own anger towards her shit boyfriend. She thinks of their fights that have happened recently the whole ride on the subway, then she thinks if it’d be too cruel of her to break up with him over the phone as she walks the few blocks to her apartment building. If he broke up with me over the phone I’d be a little upset, Y/N thinks with a frown as she walks across the lobby to the elevator.

Y/N, who was so in her own world with her music still turned up all the way as a new song by Olivia O’Brien, doesn’t even realize when Harry walks up beside her. He can hear her music blasting through her earphones. He leans forwards a bit, hoping to get in her line of sight. But she is still focused on the elevator doors, nodding her head to whatever song she’s got playing. Harry’s lips tug up into a smile. When he first saw her standing there when he entered the building he got a little nervous, unsure how this interaction between them would go. Should he apologize right away for not knowing she had a boyfriend and asking her for dinner?

“Hello?” Harry sings. “Y/N?” He calls in a normal voice. This time she seems to notice that someone is beside her. She jumps slightly, placing a hand over her heart and reaches up with the other to take out an Airpod which causes her music to stop completely.

“You scared me,” she breathes out.

“Sorry,” Harry says, giving her a timid smile. “I tried getting your attention a few times, it must be a good song.”

She looks down at the earphone in her hand and nods, “uh, yeah, just really into empowering female music today.” She states.

Harry hums and nods, then the elevator opens, revealing a few people inside which causes Y/N to step towards him as they move out of the way. If he hadn’t taken a step back fast enough she'd practically be right up against him. He breathes in and smells her perfume, the intoxicating scent of rose filling his nostrils with her being so close. Y/N gives a quick ‘you’re welcome’ to the people who step out as they thank them for moving before they both step into the elevator together. Harry was too busy thinking about how close Y/N had been to step up and hit the number six button before he could. He gives her a smile in thanks.

The elevator begins to ascend as the space falls into silence between them. They’re both overthinking. What should I say? Is what is on both their minds as they pass the first floor, and then the second. Harry lets out a short breath through his nose before leaning his back against the railing.

“I’m sorry for being so clueless,” he states, pausing when Y/N’s head whips up and her eyes meet his. “I didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend and I just didn’t think twice before asking you if you wanted to get dinner,” he says, finally getting the thought off his chest.

Y/N furrows her brows, “and why did you think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend?” She asks, teasing him, but Harry’s face falls and he stands straight once again, bringing both his hands up and waves them in front of himself as if in surrender.

“Not that you’re like not pretty enough for a boyfriend, or nice enough, cause to be quite honest I would be surprised if you didn’t have a boyfriend cause you are like the prettiest girl I’ve ever met and not to mention really nice and super cool too-”

“I was just teasing you, Harry,” Y/N stops him. But his words had caused quite the feeling inside her stomach, butterflies were multiplying like it was nobody's business while she swore she felt her heartbeat in the soles of her feet.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “right. Well, still, I’m sorry.” He casts his eyes down to the floor, feeling his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. The elevator sounds a quiet bing! as the doors open for them on the sixth floor. Harry lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s once more, motioning with his hand for her to exit first. She smiles and walks out with him right behind her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything till she’s at her apartment door, her key in the lock, and she notices Harry is at his door a few feet away. She sighs and stops twisting the key, letting her shoulder sag as she looks over at Harry.

“I’m sorry too, by the way,” she says. Harry looks up at the sound of her voice, thinking she was simply going to take in her apology and go about her merry life with Mark. He watches her tongue dart out and wet her lips as she leans into her door. “I should have mentioned Mark, even just in a quick comment, but honestly our relationship is sort of new and even a little non-existent at times, it seems, so I guess I was just enjoying making a new friend. I didn’t even think about it,” Y/N explains herself.

Harry takes in her words; that her relationship is new, and non-existent? He wonders what she means by that. But he can’t help but smile at her mentioning that she enjoyed becoming his friend. Harry nods his head and let’s his smile grow wider, knowing his dimples would show.

“I’d like to keep being your friend,” Y/N adds, “if that’s okay?”

“It’s totally okay,” Harry nods. Y/N smiles and nods back.

“Okay,” she says softly.

Harry fits his key into the lock without looking, keeping his eyes on Y/N’s as he notices her cheeks glowing a shade of pink. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow? If you’re not busy, of course,” Harry suggests, twisting his key and unlocking the door.

“I think I’m free. It’ll have to be Christmas themed, of course,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge Harry to fight her on it - like Mark would.

“Well, yeah,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows pulled together and head shaking in faux disbelief. “Wouldn’t have it any other way during the month of December,” he adds.

Why couldn’t I have moved in like six months ago? Y/N thinks to herself as she smiles at Harry. She finds herself liking him more with every word that comes out of that pretty mouth of his. If only she had met him before she met Mark. Things would be easier, that’s for sure.

The two of them agree on a time for tomorrow, six in the evening, before saying their goodbyes and walking into their homes that were side by side. After Y/N takes off her shoes and coat, she walks towards her bedroom to get changed into some workout clothes for a quick at home video before she ate dinner. Just as she’s changing she hears the muffled sounds of Harry’s guitar - something she’s grown fond of hearing through their shared wall. Maybe she’ll get him to play her something tomorrow, she thinks with a smile.

Y/N makes her way back into her living room and starts up her workout video. She does some jumping jacks to get her warmed up, but honestly, her heart is already pounding in her chest from her interaction with Harry and the plans they have made. Without a doubt she knows she’ll be counting down the hours during her work day tomorrow till six o’clock.

Elf or Polar Express? Both were very different Christmas movies, and they were the two she was torn between taking over to Harry’s. They hadn’t talked about who’s apartment they would hang out in, but as it was ten minutes to six, she hoped to get out the door and knock on his first, in order to get the chance to ask him to play his guitar for her maybe. But that’s not how it’s going to work out because Y/N’s too busy being stuck between two of her favourite movies when suddenly, there’s a knock at her door. She frowns knowing that it’s Harry and wouldn’t get to hear him play guitar, but gets up from where she was sitting crossed legged on the floor to answer the door.

Her fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floor as she walks to her door, peering through the peephole quickly to double check to see it was Harry. She smiles at the sight of his floppy brown hair and unlocks her door before swinging it open. Harry looks up as she opens the door, meeting her gaze for only a moment before he watches her take in his apparel.

He had thought about it for way too long, what he was to wear to hangout and watch movies with the girl he liked, but ended up staying dressed down as he was all day. Y/N liked how the plain white shirt he wore fit him, only a small brand logo that was over his heart, but she really liked the pastel rainbow coloured sweatpants he wore too. He looks comfy and ready to lay back and relax for a few hours with her. He’s not wearing any shoes though, which makes Y/N furrows her brows for a second.

“I didn’t really see any point in putting on shoes for the few feet out of my apartment,” Harry states quickly to let her know. Y/N nods, chuckling under her breath, but understanding what he means. She steps back and lets him into her home.

Harry takes in the atmosphere of Y/N’s apartment for the second time now. The glow from her many Christmas lights makes him feel warm inside, and her Christmas tree was the focal point of it all. He likes the odd ornaments that are littered among the branches, and he can’t quite make out what they all are, but something tells him that they each hold a special meaning to Y/N. Maybe some from her childhood, others from some trips she’s had - he could see her collecting them from anywhere she’s travelled to. Harry makes a mental note to ask her at one point.

“I was thinking of making some hot chocolate, and I have a bag of, like, this candy cane and white chocolate pretzels that I’ve been obsessed with lately and was going to munch on that during the movie, but I have a bunch of other snacks too, honestly,” Y/N starts to explain to Harry. He turns on his heels to see she’s already locked her door and is now moving into the kitchen.

“I’m cool with some hot chocolate,” Harry nods, “and I’ll give the pretzels a try, they sound good.”

“They are so good, oh my god,” she moans at the mere thought of eating them. Bending down to open her bottom drawer, she reveals a well organized array of munchies that looked like a stoner's heaven.

As she’s ruffling through the drawer Harry takes in her outfit. She’s got on a pair of Christmas themed pajama bottoms with little snowflakes scattered along the dark blue material that matched with her plain dark blue shirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, wispy hairs falling around her face as it looks as though it’s been up all day and she hasn’t cared to fix it. Overall, she looks comfortable and at ease - as she should be in her own home. He had wondered if she ever dressed down, seeing as he had only ever seen her after a day of work dressed in trendy high fashion, but somehow casual clothing. Christmas pajamas suit her, he thinks with a smile.

Y/N gets a hold of the bag of pretzels she’s talking about and opens it, taking one out for herself right away to bite down on before turning to Harry who’s standing in her kitchen. She smiles at the pretzel and lifts the bag to him. Harry takes a few steps towards her before reaching into the bag and grabbing one for himself. He brings it to his mouth and Y/N watches for his reaction. His jaw flexes as he chews down on the sweet yet salty treat.

Harry hums and nods, reaching into the bag again, “not bad,” he says before chewing on another one. Y/N smiles and passes him the bag all together, turning towards the stove top to turn on the kettle already filled with water.

“Can you find two mugs in that cabinet?” Y/N asks Harry as she looks to her left and sees him standing in front of the cabinet that held her many mugs and glasses. She points to it and Harry nods. He puts the bag of pretzels down after sneaking one last one into his mouth, and opens the cabinet door to reveal Y/N’s collection of mugs. He goes for the two at the front, which were Christmas themed, of course; one shaped like the Grinch and the other like Santa. As he sets them down on the counter in front of him, beside the bag of pretzels that he sticks his hand into again, he notices a glass container full of brown powder that he assumes is her hot chocolate mix.

“Is this your hot chocolate mix?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, “I honestly make myself a cup almost every night during the colder seasons.”

“Are you a coffee or tea person?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes on the container as he twists it open and sees a metal teaspoon measuring cup inside already. He starts to scoop some into each mug as he waits for Y/N’s answer. Although he is very aware of her possibly liking coffee, considering how he’s seen her with many Starbucks cups before.

“Yeah, I enjoy both too. I have way too much coffee during my work days, and tea reminds me of the days at my grandparents,” she explains, watching Harry scoop her preferred amount of mix into each mug without even asking. She smiles softly, seeing him reach for yet another pretzel too.

“Are you saying tea is for old people?” Harry questions, raising a brow as he peers at Y/N in the corner of his eye. Y/N rolls her eyes, a smile still on her lips. Her kettle begins to squeal into the air, but she’s quick to turn and take it off the heat. She turns off the stove and uses a tea towel to bring it over to the mugs - Harry steps back out of her way, but not before grabbing the bag of pretzels.

“Old people and the British too, of course,” Y/N teases.

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says in agreement. He waits till Y/N fills the mugs and sets the kettle back down on the stovetop before he steps back to the counter and wraps a hand around the handle of the Grinch mug. Y/N is quick, stepping towards him and gently slapping his hand.

Harry flinches his hand away and raises a brow at Y/N, jokingly taken back by her action. Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling over how cute that look on his face was.

“I have whipped cream that’s in a can, but it’s still good,” Y/N states, giving him a look that said ‘back off and let me do this’. Harry only chuckles again and nods. “Also slow down on the pretzels, if I don’t get any during the movie I’ll be very upset.”

“They’re addicting, sorry,” Harry mumbles through his mouth full of pretzels, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Trust me, I know. That’s like my fourth bag this week, I swear,” she states with a chuckle.

As Y/N walks to her fridge Harry steps up to the mugs once more and takes a chance on the drawer directly under them for a spoon. His instincts are right as he pulls the drawer open to see her utensils; he grabs a teaspoon in order to stir the hot chocolate. Y/N turns back from the fridge with the whipped cream can in hand, turning around to see Harry focused on the mugs. She smiles, tilting her head as she watches him nudge the drawer closed with his hip, and begin to stir the contents of them till the powder was all mixed in with the water. Look at them being all domestic, she thinks. Licking her lips, she shakes her head a little and walks up to Harry, shaking the can of whipped cream and waits for him to finish stirring. He sets the spoon in the sink and watches as Y/N tops off the mugs with a heap of whipped cream.

“You better actually eat the whipped topping this time,” Harry says to her teasingly, referring to when they had hot chocolate in the park, and she let her whipped cream melt. Y/N chuckles and brings the tip of the whipped cream can to her open mouth.

She puts pressure on the top again and makes the sweet cream pile into her mouth as she tips her head back, the aerosol can is the only noise in the room as Harry watches her do it. His breath catches in his throat and he blinks several times as he imagines an entirely different scenario with this whipped cream can and her mouth. Y/N brings the whipped cream away from her mouth and swallows, watching Harry do the same thing - did she make him feel uncomfortable? She thinks to herself as she licks her lips and looks down at the ground. Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, she thinks while walking back to the fridge to return the whipped cream to the shelf. When she turns back, she sees that Harry has both mugs in his hands.

“Maybe I should just have both of these, since you’re probably full from that mouth full of whipped cream,” Harry teases her, bringing both mugs to his lips, acting as if he’s going to slurp up the whipped topping that’s nearly flowing over the side.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N gasps, reaching forward quickly for the Grinch mug, but Harry moves it out of her grasp faster.

“I want the Grinch one,” he says with a slight whine to his voice. Y/N can’t stop the giggle this time, blushing afterwards as she thinks of how freaking adorable he is.

“Fine,” she sighs and takes the Santa mug from him instead.

Harry grins and lets her lead the way back into her living room, the bag of pretzels in his other hand. Y/N sets her mug down on the coaster on the coffee table, just like she had with her glass of wine the last time Harry was over. He watches as she sits cross legged on the floor in front of her tv stand. Y/N grabs the two movies she was debating over earlier in each hand and lifts them up for Harry to see. He loves them both of course.

“Which one? I can’t decide,” Y/N states. Harry hums and lifts his mug to his lip to slurp up some whipped cream.

“Elf,” Harry answers, “I’m in a Will Ferrel comedy kind of mood,” he adds.

“Alright,” Y/N chuckles under her breath and turns away from Harry to open her DVD player and then open the case for Elf. He liked that she had the movies on physical DVD, not just clicking away on a streaming app. She places the DVD in the player and then closes it again before standing up quickly and skipping over to the couch, plopping down excitedly but gently that Harry isn’t even scared that he’ll spill his hot chocolate.

“We can watch the other one next time,” Harry suggests, feeling brave in the moment as the trailers start to play softly on the screen and Y/N is reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table. She looks at him and smiles.

“‘kay, yeah, next time,” she pauses but then points the remote at Harry. “But next time you’re hosting, I feel like we should switch it up sometimes,” she adds and waits to see Harry nod with a smile before she turns to the TV and gets to the main menu of the movie.

“Fair, I just think my place lacks the holiday cheer that we would want,” Harry explains. Y/N stops her from hitting play right away and leans back into the couch, flopping her head to the side to look at Harry. He’s still holding his mug, which reminds her that her own is sitting there untouched, so she sits up again and grabs it.

“Well you know what would fix that?” She questions, bringing the mug to her lips and slurping up some of the whipped cream that was in fact already melting. Harry watches her as her eyes are glued to her mug, focused on not spilling it over the sides it seems.

“Decorations?” He asks, still watching her. He smiles as she licks her upper lip that’s covered in melting whipped cream.

“Exactly,” she nods enthusiastically. She takes another few sips of her hot chocolate before leaning back into her couch once again, getting all snuggled up before lifting the remote to the TV and hitting play.

“I’m not really good with decorating - my sister and mom did my apartment to be honest,” Harry admits. Y/N watches the opening scene of one of her favourite Christmas movies, feeling all giddy inside as it’s the first time she’s watching it this holiday season. She gets like this every year with every holiday movie.

“Well, I can help you out. Maybe we can do a little trip to Target before our next movie night. Then do a quick set up and then watch the movie after,” Y/N suggests, nervously peering over at Harry over the rim of her mug after. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing a line or anything. She just wants to spend more time with him, even if it’s just as friends.

Harry gives Y/N a half smile, one of his dimples making an appearance as he looks into her eyes. He would love that, honestly. The idea of them wandering through the Christmas isles at Target as she gives him advice on what decorations would go together and fit his apartment style; they would set up the decorations after and he’d watch her be in her element. Maybe he’d put on some Christmas music and hope she would dance around. Harry gives Y/N a short nod.

“I like that plan,” Harry tells her.

Y/N smiles and nods back at him. “Then it’s a deal, we’ll set a time after the movie. It’s about to get good,” she says, looking back at the TV screen again as Will Ferrel’s character makes his appearance.

“The whole movie is good,” Harry states.

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him, taking another sip of her drink and keeping her eyes on the movie. Harry smiles and watches her watch Elf. He notices her hand gently tapping the cushion between them after a moment. Harry chuckles under his breath and nudges the bag of pretzels open, taking a few for himself before facing the bag her way. Once she’s got one between her teeth she feels completely content.

She’s got a cup of yummy hot chocolate, her favourite snack, Christmas lights are twinkling around her, one of her favourite Christmas movies is playing, and she’s with good company too. In fact, she finds herself not once thinking of Mark the rest of the night. Even in her dreams, it’s Harry, again.

They exchanged phone numbers. It’s not a big deal, Harry thinks to himself as he gets a third text from his newest contact in his phone. But it felt like a big deal; it was an easy way to get a hold of her whenever he needed to or wanted to even. Not that he would just bother her for no good reason. As much as he’d like to text with her all day, he knows that they really just exchanged phone numbers in order to plan to hangout easily. Like for today, Y/N had a long work day, but still wanted to take Harry Christmas decor shopping, so she was asking him if he could just meet her at the closest Target.

There’s one a few blocks away from the apartment, I’ll send you the location, are you able to meet me there? She texts along with a Google Maps link to the store. Harry tapped out a response right away, letting his focus sway away from the TV show he had on when her name lit up his screen.

Sounds good to me, what time? Harry hits send and notices the bubble with three dots pop up right away. She must have a moment at work right now; he checks the time to see it’s just past noon, assuming she’s on her lunch break.

I should be leaving the office by 3pm today, then it’s like a 15 minutes subway ride and 5 minute walk to get there for me. So like 3:30ish, is that okay with you? Wait. Are you busy today? I didn’t even ask if you were working too, sorry. She sends the texts in a few separate bubbles, realizing that she didn’t even ask if Harry was working or not today. Y/N has no idea what the schedule of a songwriter was like. Harry chuckles at her little panic and types out his response.

Super busy…. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix. He adds a laughing emoji for good measure, to which Y/N replies with some of her own laughing emojis before saying God I wish that was how my day was going.

Y/N ends up texting Harry her whole lunch break. He asks about what she’s been doing today, his responses seeming very interested in the adventures she has had in the office being a stand in model since her measurements were close to a clients. She then asks what show he’s watching, to which he tells her about this Netflix baking show called Sugar Rush and he tells her about the challenge the contestants on the most recent episode endured. Y/N finds herself smiling at her screen, nearly forgetting to even eat her lunch. Sammy clears his throat just a few minutes before their time is up and causes her to look up at him, raising her eyebrows at his own.

“What?” She asks, stabbing her fork into the salad she had Sammy pick up for her earlier.

“Nothing,” Sammy hums, Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just noticed you’ve been quite busy on that phone of yours for the past, oh, I don’t know, twenty five minutes,” Sammy teases her, eyes widening slightly and motioning his hands in the air with his words. He did that a lot, talking with his hands, that is.

“So?” Y/N tries to brush off her friend's pushy behaviour.

“So? Really? We’re just going to act as if you’re not giggling at your phone screen like a little school girl?” Sammy questions.

“I am not doing that,” Y/N huffs.

“Yeah, sure, sweetie and I’m straight,” Sammy rolls his eyes dramatically and then pouts while shaking his body in his seat. Y/N furrows her brows at his behaviour. “I live off your love life. Please give me something, anything. Please just tell me that you’re talking to that hot neighbour of yours and let me continue on my merry little day knowing that your love life is about to be thriving while mine is dead.”

Y/N sighs and tries to ignore as her phone vibrates again, signalling that Harry had texted her back. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over his chest, covering the deep v-cut of her black body suit that she was wearing with a pair of red slim legged slacks, and a matching red blazer that was currently laying over the back of the chair she sat in. Amanda didn’t have any sort of dress code for work, merely to come in looking professional and stylish, which for Y/N, meant a good pant suit moment every once in a while. But with still keeping it sexy and young by pairing it with a bodysuit.

“Fine, I’m texting Harry,” Y/N tells Sammy, feeding into his gossip need for the day. “We actually hung out two night ago, he came over for a movie night-”

“What?! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Sammy questions, sitting up quickly and throwing his hands in the air. “What happened? Touching? Did you kiss? Oh my lord, tell me what his peni-”

“Sammy! Oh my god, relax, please,” Y/N cuts him off, putting a hand up to stop him from talking. “Nothing happened. Sorry to disappoint, but I am still in a relationship with Mark. Harry just came over, we made some hot chocolate and polished off a bag of those delicious candy cane pretzels.”

“Those pretzels are good,” Sammy nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but anyways, nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen. We’re just friends, and I enjoy being around him a lot. So, today after work we’re going to Target to buy his apartment some decorations, then we’ll probably order in some food and watch another movie.”

“Sounds pretty couple-y to me,” Sammy says in a high pitched tone. Y/N just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her friend again.

Y/N couldn’t lie, though. The few hours later in Target, they looked like a couple. Harry pushes the cart down the aisle while she tilts her head and debates which tinsel really fit Harry’s aesthetic. She brings the Starbucks cup to her lips and sips the warm caramel flavoured latte. Y/N was pleasantly surprised when she saw Harry walking up to her outside the Target with two Starbucks holiday cups in his hand. He gave her a timid smile and explained what both of the drinks were, saying he hadn’t tasted either and wanted to see what she wanted first before taking the other for himself. It was unexpected and ridiculously sweet of him to do.

“I think red would look really nice around your apartment, kind of spice up the place a little,” Y/N explains, her free hand skimming over the many different tinsels that were hanging up before her. Harry agrees, red would look nice in his apartment and spice things up a lot, except his mind is thinking of this red pant suit she’s wearing right now. He thinks it would look rather nice on his bedroom floor.

When she walked up to him and he took in her outfit, he nearly tripped over his own feet and spilled the two coffees he brought with him. But he kept himself together, well, sort of. He stumbled over his words, rambled like a fool about why he got the two coffees for her, but they finally got into the store, which now, he’s just been checking her out as they walked to the Christmas section. Get it together, Harry thinks to himself.

“Red’s nice,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly. So, he clears his throat and steps away from the cart to pick up a piece of tinsel that Y/N was looking at. “I like the bit of silver mixed in too,” he comments.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she says with a smile before grabbing four more of the same one and adding it to the cart. Harry does the same with the one in his hand and then puts his hands on the cart once more, pushing it back and forth just a few inches. Harry can’t stop himself from admiring that suit once more as she bends down to check out the many different boxes of tree ornaments.

“Which ones?” Y/N asks, quickly turning her body. Y/N catches his gaze on her body, but Harry blinks quickly and meets her stare. The corner of her lips tug up into a smug smile at the thought of Harry checking her out.

“The ones in your, uh, your right hand,” Harry answers her questions, clearing his throat again and watching as she stands straight before putting the ornaments into the cart.

They continue their way through Target, still looking very much like a couple as they grab a few bags of the candy cane pretzels that Y/N got Harry hooked on the other night before heading to the check out. Harry insists on paying for the few little items of Y/N’s in the cart, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t a huge deal. He almost doesn’t let her carry a single thing, but she quickly gets a hold of a standing Santa decoration that was too big for a bag and hugs it to her chest their whole walk home.

Harry unlocks his apartment door for them, noticing how their neighbour Mr Matthers is opening his at the same time to peer out and see who’s in the hallway. Harry holds open the door for Y/N, she thanks him in a small voice and smiles at him. Looking back out into the hallway, Harry waves at Mr Matthers, who simply returns it with a scowl on his face before Harry steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Suppose their neighbour is a bit jealous of Harry, he’s seen the way he looks at Y/N. Hell, especially today in that suit, everyone on the street was looking at Y/N with wide eyes and big smiles - Harry felt like quite the lucky guy, little did everyone know they were in fact not together. Just friends, Harry reminds himself for the millionth time.

“Oh, I love the tree,” Y/N states, her voice bringing Harry back to Earth as he locks the door and walks over to his coffee table to set down the many bags in his arms. Y/N is still holding the Santa decoration to her chest, looking at the fake Christmas tree he had purchased on Amazon yesterday on a whim. He was thinking about them decorating together again, and thought that it wouldn’t feel right if he didn't have a tree too. It’s a good thing he told Y/N over text, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten ornaments or anything for it.

“Yeah, I just got the first one that included lights on Amazon, to be honest,” Harry tells her. Y/N chuckles and walks over, setting the Santa decoration just beside the tree gently.

She brushes a hand over the tree and smiles, “it’s wonderful, really pulls the whole festive look together in my opinion.”

“I agree,” Harry nods. He grabs for the TV remote and turns it on, quickly turning the volume down before he sets it up to the music channels - clicking on the Christmas tunes without a second thought. Y/N watches Harry, her heart hammering in her chest as the soft sounds of Michael Buble fills the room. Mark would never do any of this - he wouldn’t voluntarily put on Christmas music, ever. In fact, he shut off the station in her car on the way to the airport. And he definitely wouldn’t decorate with her either, seeing as he thinks that her apartment looks childish. She pouts at the thought of her and Mark’s phone call the other day. He hasn’t called or texted her since.

“Did you not want to listen to Christmas music?” Harry asks suddenly, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts and turns to look at him. He’s taking off his jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a bumble bee and some blue writing around it, paired with his purple trousers and a pair of white socks on his feet after slipping out of his shoes too. Y/N loves his simple yet not basic style.

“No, no,” Y/N assures him, finally unbuttoning her blazer now and taking off the mittens and beanie she had worn in the cold. She stuffs them into the blazer pocket and slips out of it. “I love Christmas music so much, honestly maybe a little too much, Mark hates it,” she admits.

A shiver falls over her body as she realizes then she’s simply in the rather thin bodysuit that also dipped very low in the front. Y/N doesn’t look at Harry as she feels her nipples harder from the coolness of his apartment, embarrassed as she didn’t prepare for her attire after going out. Harry suddenly lifts up a hand, his pointer finger up as if to say ‘one second’, then he’s walking down the hallways and returns not even a minute later with a black sweater in hand.

“It’s clean, just washed today, I promise,” Harry tells her, holding out one of his favourite jumpers for her. He had been given a few merchandising pieces from the label over the years and this plain black jumper that read ‘Columbia’ on the front in white has been in his possession for a couple years now. In his opinion, it was very comfortable due to how much he’s worn it.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly while taking it from him.

She puts it on and is immediately warmer. Her hands cover completely because of how long the sleeves are and it falls down past her bum too, due to the large size. She looks good, Harry thinks as he takes in her wearing his clothing. Y/N smiles and turns to grab things from the Target bags they had just brought in.

“Okay, let’s begin with the tree then,” she says excitedly, trying to clap her hands together but just ends up smacking the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie together.

It’s just as Harry imagined it. The soft lights from the Christmas tree glow over the shadows of Y/N’s face as she wraps the red tinsel around the base of it before passing it to Harry in order for him to reach the taller portion of the tree. She dances when Jingle Bell Rock plays on the TV, his jumper swaying around her body because of how big it is on her. They’re both smiling and singing along to the music, jokingly of course. Harry wasn’t about to show her all his little secrets and start belting out White Christmas along with the singers of Wham!

“Can you pass me a couple of the silver balls?” Y/N asks Harry, her eyes on the tree as she put the last red ball ornament she had grabbed onto a branch. Harry raises his eyebrows in a joking manner.

“The what?” He questions, but still making his way to where the array of different coloured ball ornaments laid on the couch.

“Like two of the balls,” she says again. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his dimples fully showing as he does. Y/N furrows her brows, but then gets why he’s laughing. “You’re a child,” she scolds him playfully.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry states, grabbing two of the ornaments she’s asking for and passing them to her.

“Thank you for the balls, Harry,” she says. They both end up laughing this time, she can’t help it. His laughter is contagious with how his eyes squint up and his dimple somehow deepens, not to mention the little vocal ‘aha’ he does before laughing. It makes Y/N’s stomach ache, not from laughing too, but with the butterflies. Those stupid little butterflies that have made a home inside of her stomach since meeting this kind, handsome, British man.

Once the tree is done, Y/N beats Harry to ordering them food. They decide on getting sushi, which is something she could never order with Mark since he has this personal vendetta against seafood for some reason. But Mark isn’t on her mind for long. It’s all Harry, all the freaking time. She likes how he beams a winning smile at the delivery guy and thanks him three times in the sixty seconds he’s at his door, and how he barely pays his phone any attention the whole night besides when it chimes with a few texts that he explains is his workmates group chat. Now, she can’t stop watching him chew his food; how his jaw flexes with each bite and how his eyebrows furrow when he can’t get the chopsticks to grab the California roll he wanted. Why do I find him eating so attractive? Y/N shakes her head slightly and forces herself to look back at the TV that’s playing the Sugar Rush show on Netflix that Harry was texting her about earlier.

Harry collects their take out containers after a few moments to ensure that Y/N is done, asking her just to be sure she doesn’t want the two pieces that are left over. She thanks him, but says no, and he manages to grab all five containers in one trip to the kitchen. His mom most definitely raised him well, Y/N thinks as she lays back on his couch and watches the TV show. It suddenly hits Y/N, his brows pulling together as she pushes herself to sit up and turns her body to look behind her through the open concept to look at Harry.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” She asks him. Y/N assumed home was England, besides obvious factors, but she remembers him telling her about driving in London once. Harry brushes his hands on a tea towel that's hanging off his stove before turning to walk back into the living room.

“Um, no, not this year,” Harry says.

“Oh, do you typically go home and visit your family? You mentioned your mom and sister had decorated this place though, do they live here?” She throws the other questions his way as he walks around the couch and sits in his spot again.

“They all live in England, yeah,” he nods, “my mom, my step dad, older sister and her boyfriend all flew out here with me to help me settle in the few years back when I got my job. But I do usually go home for holidays, or just casually during the summer. Earlier this year I had to make an unexpected trip,” Harry pauses and clears his throat as he looks away from Y/N as he feels that familiar pain in his chest, “my step dad passed away. So it just took a bit of money out of my account, I decided not to fork out the money for expensive flights during the holidays.”

Hearing that Harry had lost his step dad recently torn Y/N’s heart in two. She frowns, taking a deep breath before reaching over and placing a hand over Harry’s that rested folded in his lap. Harry looks at where their skin touched, it felt like his hands were vibrating under her touch. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles, the touch so soft like a feather just barely skimming over his skin. Harry has to stop himself from flipping his hand over slowly and intertwining their fingers together. She has a boyfriend, she’s just being a good person and comforting a friend.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your step dad, Harry,” she soft and gentle voice, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckle again as she watches him inhale deeply through his nose.

Harry clears his throat of the threatening tears and shakes his head slightly, a piece of his hair falling onto his forehead as he does. He takes one of his hands and lays it over Y/N’s, giving it a few pats. Tonight had been good

and fun, and he didn’t want to go ruining the mood with his tears. So, he lifts his head and looks at Y/N, finding her somber eyes staring at him already. He forces a smile, licking his lips before clearing his throat again.

“Thank you,” he says, “I don’t want to make this good night all emotional now, so yeah, the short answer is I’m not leaving the city for the holidays this year. I do have a trip planned in March to see my mum for mothers day though,” Harry explains, rubbing Y/N’s hand that’s between his.

Y/N mirrors his smile, although it’s not as full as usual, a bit sad still as she thinks about what Harry and his family must’ve gone through this year - and that his mother won’t see her son her first Christmas without her husband to top it all off. Maybe she could buy his flights? But no, no she couldn’t, she thinks sadly. They sit there like that for another moment, her hand between his much larger once, and they stare at each other. Finally, Y/N lets out a sigh and tries to get out of her head before she ends up crying. Harry lets go of her hand slowly, and she brings both hands to her face to brush back her hair. Harry does the same to get the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead back into place.

“Well I’m glad you can go see your mom for mothers day, at least,” Y/N says, looking at the positive. Harry nods and then leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to stretch out.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, “she’s already telling me all about the plans she’s made for my trip and talks my ear right off as if it’s happening tomorrow.” Harry tells Y/N with a chuckle.

Hearing his little laugh brings a real smile to her face this time. “I’m sure she’s counting the days till you fly in,” Y/N says. She is starting to feel a little tired as she lays back on the couch, laying her legs out on the chaise. Harry watches as she pulls the sleeves of his jumper back down, she had rolled them up while eating so they didn’t get in the way, but he likes the sweater paw look on her as she snuggles into the couch.

“Do you spend Christmas at home still?” Harry asks her, keeping his voice soft as he realizes it’s gotten late and both their eyelids are getting heavy.

“My parents have something on Christmas Eve, sometimes I spend the night, other times I make my way home,” she exclaims vaguely.

Y/N doesn’t love her times at home anymore; she finds her parents ‘I’m too rich for anything' attitude to be tiresome. As she grew up into her own person, she realized the privilege she had with the wealth she grew up with. She started to see how pointless some parties her mother threw, and how little she would have to try to just coast through life. Y/N didn’t want to grow up like every other bratty kid on the Upper East Side, so she moved out right after graduation, got into fashion school, focused on herself, and earned her own money - all while learning of how to use her privilege for good, like donating her time and money to good causes. Something her parents only did to look good within their social circle.

So, going back home for over the top holiday parties, getting gifted a new car every year, and seeing her parents throw their money at whatever, really only bothered her more than anything. Y/N would simply stop in for Christmas Eve, enjoy a few hours with family and then go home to her own world again.

A yawn slips past Y/N’s mouth as she’s deep in thought, which then makes Harry yawn as the both of them bring their hands to cover their mouth and then letting out soft laughter afterwards. Y/N sits up and stretches both arms above her head. “I guess I should head home,” she says before standing up slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve got a long way to go,” Harry jokes.

“Oh yeah, it’ll take me ages,” Y/N adds onto the joke with a smile. “Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it,” she says.

Harry nods, “well thank you for helping me with all this,” he says, motioning to the decorating they had done. They both glance around the room then at their work. The red and silver decor matched Harry’s aesthetic perfectly, just as Y/N thought it would.

“We didn’t watch Polar Express,” Y/N realizes suddenly, pouting.

“Next time, Y/N,” Harry chuckles. She huffs and lets out a sigh, muttering a quiet ‘fine’ before making her way towards his front door. Harry follows behind her, planning to lock the door and listen till she gets into her own apartment before getting ready for bed.

“Should I text you when I’m home safe? It’s just so far away,” Y/N continues to joke around, causing Harry to smile as he watches her grab her blazer and slip into her shoes.

“You never know, Mr Matthers across the hall could intercept you on the way home and kidnap you. I wouldn’t sleep till I got that text knowing you got home safely,” Harry says, half joking. Cause you never know with Mr Matthers, he thinks. Y/N laughs and hugs her blazer to her stomach while standing beside the door, reaching for the handle but keeping her gaze on him.

“Mr Matthers is harmless,” Y/N says.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Harry counters back. Y/N just rolls her eyes and unlocks the door before swinging it open.

“Goodnight Harry,” she says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry says back with a smile. She mirrors his smile and then walks off into the hallway. Harry watches the door shut behind her and walks over to lock it before turning off the few lights in the living room and entryway. As he is turning off his TV his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Made it home safely and in bed! Sweet dreams read Y/N’s text sent seconds ago. Harry breathes out a chuckle as he walks down the hallway to his bathroom to begin his nightly routine. As he turns on the light for his bathroom he types back a response. Cheeky.. Sweet dreams Y/N. He turns off the screen before he stands there and waits for her to reply with anything, his heart would even flutter over an emoji.

He was so far gone for this girl, he couldn’t stop himself from falling any longer - but it had felt inevitable from the moment his eyes had met hers in the elevator.

>> part three <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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fangroyal · 3 years

Note

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping.

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

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angstyaches · 3 years

Note

my fatal flaw is loving fluff more than whump, but i love whumpy nightmare scenarios…? so…what about charlie having a bad nightmare again, either due to being sick or resulting in getting sick, and being so distressed that he has to call shayne? the reverse scenario (shayne calling charlie) would also be so good but i feel like he’d be more hesitant to do that 🤧 i’m imagining lots of shaking and shaky breathing and self-loathing remedied just a little with some physical comfort? like being held idk. ANYWAY this is my request hehe

I spent ages trying to figure out a scenario where Charlie could call Shayne and Shayne could actually get to him, but when they’re apart, it’s hard for Shayne to spontaneously decide to go to Charlie’s. I could have swapped Shayne in for the sickie but I wanted to do Charlie. Sooo, the comfort is mostly verbal, although Charlie recalls physical comfort from the past. I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind! Feel free to request more nightmare whump anytime, because I adore it.

The events of this fic are referenced (sorry for the first-person POV lol I was trying something out when I started this blog)

CW: nightmare, emeto, crying, anxiety, brief referenced past violence and blood.

___

It was the middle of the night, and the only thing Charlie could hear was the sound of the toilet tank refilling. That, and the tiny gasps that escaped him every now and then as he tried to catch his breath.

His stomach muscles were practically on fire from clenching, and he was still getting his breath back as he leaned against the side of the bath and held his phone to his ear.

The light bounced against the tiles and burned his eyes, but it was better than the dark. The dark had sprouted wings in his dream, along with a set of claws.

Charlie gasped and shook his head, burying it quickly between his knees and trying to get the image out of his head. His spine felt like his skin was crawling all over it.

“Charlie?”

His heart felt like it was going to slip up his throat at the sound of Shayne’s voice on the phone. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from whimpering with sheer relief. He hadn’t quite acknowledged it, but part of him had been terrified that Shayne wouldn’t answer the phone at all.

He’s okay…

“H-hey.” Charlie cringed at how badly his voice was shaking, and it echoed against the empty bathroom shelves just like his retching and coughing had done a few minutes ago. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What’re you sorry for?” Shayne mumbled on the other end of the phone.

“You were probably sleeping, I – I just…” Charlie rubbed at his eyes, desperate to get them dry. Nausea was still trickling lightly through his stomach, and he wondered if he’d have to rush back to the toilet bowl sometime soon.

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I got sick…” Charlie pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead against his bare knees. His voice almost disappeared completely down his throat. “I… don’t feel well.”

“Shit. I thought you were finished with all that.”

It took Charlie a moment to realise that Shayne was referring to the food poisoning Charlie had accidentally given himself (and Rin) the day before yesterday.

He swallowed thickly, pulling a face at the memory. He’d felt so much better before going to bed; in fact, he’d been starving, his body feeling hollow and achy after purging itself for a day and a half. He’d cooked an entire bag of chicken nuggets from the freezer, made himself four slices of toast, finished off a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and had gone to bed feeling blissfully better.

He struggled to find a way to gently tell Shayne that the problem that had woken him at 4am had less to do with his stomach and more to do with his brain.

Although the amount of heavy food in his belly admittedly may have contributed somewhat.

“Charlie, you okay?”

He started a bit, realising he hadn’t replied in a while. “I’m – no. Not really,” he whispered, a sharp sob jerking his ribs and scraping at his throat.

“Put me on the, um, the video thing.”

The phone jingled beside Charlie’s ear, telling him that Shayne was requesting a video call. Charlie made an attempt to clean his face off with his pyjama top before accepting it, propping the bottom of his phone against his knee.

“You know, you sound sixty when you call it ‘the video thing’,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

“Really?” Shayne narrowed his eyes into a glare as soon as he appeared on Charlie’s screen. “Would you say that to my face if it was actually this close to you?”

Charlie managed a weak smile. Some of the tension bled out of him just at the sight of his boyfriend and his sleepy brown eyes. His chin wobbled uncontrollably as emotions swelled in his belly and chest. “I wish it was this close to me.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Shayne folded one arm behind his head and leaned back against his pillow. His room was mostly dark, but he seemed to be lying on his back. “Wait, are you real-crying? Not just throwing-up-crying?”

Charlie sighed shakily, rushing to rub away the tears that had sneaked up on him. He felt his lips quiver as he tried to keep the smile from turning into a grimace.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Charlie gulped and nodded. “How could you tell?”

“Give me some credit. I feel like I know you pretty well by now.”

Charlie’s eyes were drawn towards the shrunken image of himself in the top-right corner of the screen, and tried to hold back even more tears. In his own – admittedly warped – opinion, he looked about as disgusting as he felt. He hated that he felt trapped in front of the camera, forcing Shayne to look at him in this state.

“Charlie,” Shayne murmured, his eyes softening in the light of his bedside lamp. “Talk to me, yeah?”

“They’re get – they’re getting worse,” Charlie breathed, burying his face in one hand. It felt a little silly to keep his phone held steady in the other, camera trained on himself even as he covered his eyes and wept, but he didn’t want to cast Shayne aside either. He peered out over the top of his hand, still covering his mouth to try to keep the volume under control.

“I know, but they’re just dreams, remember? They’re not real.”

A gag pulled at Charlie’s throat and he had to shut his eyes. But it was real…

“Deep breaths,” Shayne said, his tone in complete contrast to Charlie’s sobs. “You want to count back from ten with me? Sometimes I need some help. I can get to nine, and then I just get confused.”

Charlie almost laughed through the tears. He wondered if he should have been insulted by Shayne’s attempt to use Charlie’s own method on him. He decided to humour him though, rasping out numbers while thinking that it would never work because he was thinking too hard about it, but by the time they got to zero, he was able to take a breath without his chest hitching.

Shayne said nothing for a few seconds, watching to see what Charlie would do next. He frowned when Charlie shuddered harshly, making the picture wobble.

“You cold?”

Charlie nodded.

“Then go get into bed, idiot.”

He did his best to keep his phone elevated as he walked, but in his exhausted state, Charlie probably gave Shayne a prime view of the stubble under his chin as he made his way back to bed. He shakily propped his phone on the nightstand, next to Vincent the teddy bear, and went to grab a fresh t-shirt from the drawer. He’d sweat through the one he’d fallen asleep in, ruining it even before it had vomit and tears on it.

He finally crawled into bed, his stomach letting out a hollow, unhappy groan as it settled into the new position. Charlie groaned too, reaching out to take his phone in his hand again. He hated how the bedside light made his face look haggard and washed-out.

“All good?” Shayne asked.

“All good,” Charlie slurred, his eyes drooping already. “I miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, love.”

Charlie pulled his blanket tightly around himself, keeping one arm outstretched with his phone so that he and Shayne could still see one another. His sheets had cooled down a lot since he’d flung himself out from between them earlier, and after crouching on the tiles for so long, it was nice to be surrounded by something soft and pleasant.

Shayne tilted his head slightly as they both lay in silence for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes through their cameras. “How’s the nausea?”

“A little better,” Charlie sighed. “My tummy just kind of hurts.”

Shayne clicked his tongue. “Fuck. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“No.” Although his chest panged with longing for the same thing, Charlie shook his head. “You’re better – you’re safer there, and I don’t –”

The whoosh of dark, leathery wings in the night and the splatter across the hardwood flashed in Charlie’s memory. In the dream, the blood had been Shayne’s; Charlie had watched as Watson had torn his heart right out of his chest before dragging the rest of him away into the sky.

In reality, the blood had been mostly Charlie’s; he’d cut his hands on the broken glass left behind by Watson’s exit through the window.

“Lately, I just…” Charlie swallowed sickly. “I can’t stop thinking about that – that night, remember? When Watson came to my room to find you?”

Shayne fell silent for a moment, seemed to shift position slightly. “Mmhmm.”

“I was dreaming about – about that, but… worse.”

“He won’t come for you,” Shayne said. He seemed like he was gritting his teeth. “If he or Madelyn even try to get near that house, they’ll –”

“I know.” Charlie chewed the inside of his lip. He ducked his face below the blanket and quickly dabbed at fresh tears that were starting to form. “But I was so… I was so useless, Shayne, I knew I could have stopped him, but I didn’t, I was frozen solid, I –”

“Ssshhh…” Shayne whispered, the sound crackling gently through the phone’s speaker. “Charlie, love, come out.”

Teeth chattering in his head, Charlie sniffled from under the blanket.

“Please, I want to see you.”

When he crinkled the blanket into his fingers and revealed just the top half of his face to the camera again, Charlie wished he hadn’t gone into detail about the dream at all. Not only did he look like a mess, now he sounded like one, too. He felt himself blush when Shayne’s eyes lit up on the screen, realising Charlie had come out from behind the blanket.

“You know what I think of when I think of that night?”

Charlie swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I think about the way you let me fall asleep on your bed, even though I was being an asshole to you.”

He couldn’t help nuzzling his head against the pillow where Shayne’s head had been that night, while Charlie had sat lengthways with Shayne’s legs across his lap. He’d had crazy butterflies in his stomach, barely able to believe that his crush had shown up in the middle of the night, unconsciously looking for comfort from him.

“It was the first night we fell asleep together, too,” Shayne said.

Without realising it, Charlie had slid one hand around the side of his own neck, fingers running lightly through the hair at the back of his head. Shayne had never touched him before that night either, but he’d ran his fingers through his hair as though he’d been doing it for years. Light shivers of pleasure trickled over Charlie’s skin. The panicked pounding in his chest was starting to slow. “That’s true...”

“You’re anything but useless,” Shayne murmured, turning onto his side and adjusting the angle of his phone. His eyes were starting to close. “I think that’s what my point was. I forgot.”

Charlie gave a light, breathy laugh which was cut off by a deep yawn. He hid his face from the camera again, to avoid giving Shayne a view of his tonsils this time. By the time he looked at the screen again, Shayne was struggling to keep his eyes open, but neither of them said anything.

They never found out whose phone dropped out of whose hand first.

#StW Charlie #nightmare mention #emeto #emeto mention #sickfic #emeto sickfic #nightmare whump #whump fic #hurt and comfort #Swallow the World #angst fic #nightmare sickfic #fic length #long fic

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Hate to Date Ch.2 | Brittana

A/N - Back to back weekly updates? You can thank this damn head cold for keeping me in bed LOL. I’m so blown away by the response the first chapter received, like holy shit you guys love a good trope combo same as me! Happy that you’re all enjoying it so far, hopefully I can keep delivering. Have at it! 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

“I cannot believe this.”

Puck looks over at Santana muttering to herself as she stares at her phone and quirks his brow. She’s shaking her head now as she scrolls and it makes Puck wonder.

“What is it?”

Santana’s eyes widen at the screen before she’s scrolling again. With the shake of her head, she continues to mutter.

“Like I cannot actually believe this is happening to me.”

“What?” Puck tries again.

When Santana doesn’t answer, he leans over the armrest separating them to take a peek at her screen, but she quickly yanks the phone to her chest.

Puck sits back a little and starts to smirk, “You getting nudes in class now or something?”

Several students seated around turn to stare at them – even Brittany. Santana can already feel the color starting to drain from her face as they stare. It’s not the possibility that everyone will find out she’s being sent risky pictures, because hello been there done that – but because this is way worse.

“Jesus, no!” Santana snaps, but her deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression doesn’t help.

Brittany shakes her head before turning back to her work. The other students around them follow suit, but Puck’s the only one that seems way more interested in whatever’s going on with Santana than taking notes. He continues staring at her while she furiously taps at her screen.

“Can you stop? You’re being weird,” Santana grumbles as she side eyes him while she puts away her phone.

“Me?” Puck lets out a laugh in disbelief, “I’m being weird? You’re the one talking to yourself.”

Santana gives him a look but he doesn’t waver. In fact, he scoffs at her attitude.

“Ever since you came back from your last trip home you’ve been all,” Puck motions at her with his hand, “Which like, you’re always a little on edge whenever you come back from a visit but it’s lasting so much longer this time. Not to mention that you haven’t had any of your late night visitors come around. Something’s up.”

Santana stays quiet though and turns to keep taking notes. Puck eyes her, trying to find a weak spot in her armor.

“I haven’t seen Denise around,” Puck ends up adding, “I figured after bringing her home with you that she’d have a least one more week before you’re kicking her to the curb.”

At the mention of Denise, Santana stiffens.

Puck notices and pushes further, “Shit. What happened? Did your mom like…walk in on you two…” Puck lifts his hands to gesture but Santana quickly swats them down.

“Will you just drop it?”

“I can’t! Not when you’re always huffing and puffing at your phone,” Puck reasons, “Just tell me what’s going on with you?”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

“Because it’s too embarrassing.”

“Now you definitely have to tell me!”

“No!”

Suddenly Brittany’s turning around again, a flash of blonde hair whipping past, and a scowl on her face. Her piercing blue eyes cut her like ice as she glares.

“Can you both keep it down?” She scolds, “Some of us are trying to pay attention.”

“Some of us are trying to pay attention,” Santana mocks.

“Grow up,” Brittany says with an eyeroll before turning around.

Santana only sticks her tongue out, but despite the reminder that they’re still in the middle of class Puck is determined to get Santana talking. He’s such a little shit like that when it comes to keeping secrets.

“Just tell me,” He insists in a hushed tone, “I told you about that one time I nearly burned my dick off using your fancy shaving cream.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for that,” Santana replies bluntly, “I remember specifically saying that I didn’t want to know.”

“But that’s an embarrassing moment, so now you have to tell me yours.”

“That’s not how it works,” Santana says.

Just then, her phone lights up on her desk. She glances to it as Puck does the same. She knows what’s about to happen, but she shifts her stare to Puck hoping that he’s smarter than that.

Of course, he’s not and soon they’re both lunging for her phone.

Santana’s closer so she gets a hand on it first, but so does Puck and he tries valiantly to muscle her out of the way. It’s a lost cause trying to beat him but what she lacks in brawn she makes up for in brain. She’s quick to pinch him right under the bicep and Puck instantly pulls back.

“Ow! Fuck!” He groans.

Santana only smirks, “Don’t touch my shit.”

His face is still screwed up in pain as he rubs the spot while Santana slips her phone safely in her bag.

“That was dirty,” Puck tells her.

Santana just shrugs, “Would you expect anything less of me?”

Puck starts to grin, “Guess not.”

“Okay then,” She smirks and nods to the front of the lecture hall, “Now leave me alone. I’m trying to listen.”

And Puck does as he’s told – for a solid five seconds.

“Come on,” Puck pleads, “This is just a review. You don’t even need to listen.”

Santana sighs, “You’re not going to drop this?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Santana leans closer to Puck and whispers, “Swear you’ll never repeat this.”

Puck’s eyes widen like he’s just hit the jackpot, “I swear.”

“Okay,” Santana closes her eyes and settles her racing heart, “My mom is setting me up on blind dates because she’s tired of the kind of girls I bring home.”

Puck sits back and blinks, “Wait. What?”

“Yeah,” Santana says dejectedly as she goes back to writing, “It’s the same shit. She doesn’t think I take my future with her at the firm seriously because of my so-called reputation with women so now she’s taking over like she always does and trying to set me up with the perfect person. God, she makes it sound like I’m some sleezy player, but I’m respectful!”

“Now that’s hilarious,” Brittany comments just loud enough for Santana to hear.

Santana doesn’t pay her any mind though and looks back at Puck, “I’ve wine and dined every woman I’ve been with, you know that. I’ve opened every door, paid every tab, I even make sure they come first!”

“Totally, yeah.”

Santana slumps in her chair and thinks aloud, “I can’t help that I’m attractive, that’s what I told her. What’s so wrong about keeping my options open, right? What’s the point of being young and in college if she already wants me to settle down with someone already? It’s crazy and it’s ridiculous!”

Puck stays quiet for a moment longer like he’s still trying to grasp the concept, but only one question begs to be asked.

“Are they at least hot blind dates?”

Santana looks to him unamused, but she can tell he’s being completely serious and he’s so used to her judgment that it doesn’t usually phase him anymore anyway. So she sighs again and shrugs.

“I mean, yeah but that’s besides the point,” Santana answers honestly.

“Looks are important,” Puck assures her.

“Obviously, but I’m not that shallow,” Santana waves him off.

Puck shakes his head in disbelief, “So Mama Lopez has you going on blind dates...”

“Technically she’s only set me up on one blind date but she keeps sending through these potential romance partners,” Santana replies, “She has them formatted like a damn resume with a picture and bio, likes and dislikes, future plans. Every one of them has professional goals and despite them being relatively hot, they’re boring as hell!”

Puck starts to giggle as Santana shows him an example which earns him a punch in the arm.

“This is no laughing matter, Puckerman,” Santana says, “This is serious shit! I wouldn’t be surprised if she signs me up for The Bachelorette or something. This really is a new low for me.”

Puck looks back at her with a brow raised, “Oh no, my mom is setting me up on dates with beautiful and successful women. My life is so hard.”

“See that right there,” Santana points a finger at him, “That’s why I didn’t tell you in the first place.”

“Come on,” Puck jokes, “I can kind of see why she’s stepping in. Your dating history is on the same level as mine and that’s not a good thing.”

“Why?” Santana cocks her head to the side, “Because you’re a guy?”

“I – well…”

“Exactly,” Santana huffs, “I’m tired of the insane double standards. I like to date, so what? Doesn’t give her an excuse to meddle in my love life.”

“More like lust life.”

Santana gives him a look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Puck brushes off, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. You don’t do commitments and you don’t do long term. You’re there for the fun parts and then as soon as they get attached, you break it off. It’s text book Lopez.”

Santana hates how see-through she feels and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

“You’re one to talk. When was your last relationship?”

“You know the answer to that,” Puck says with an unexpected seriousness in his tone.

Santana grits her teeth and looks away, “Point is I don’t need her setting me up. I like my life the way that it is.”

“She’s doing the work for you though,” Puck reasons, “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic here?”

“Of course not!”

Suddenly Brittany’s turning around again, “You two are unbelievable.”

“Sorry Britt,” Puck apologizes and taps his paper, “I’m all ears now.”

Santana doesn’t have anything witty to say in return though, because now she’s finally letting the gravity of the situation she’s gotten herself into weight down on her. Since returning home, she’s been brushing this whole blind date thing off but now that she’s talked about it aloud it’s like the veil of ignorant bliss has been lifted.

She really is in deep shit.

There’s only so many times she can try to evade Maribel’s attempts before she’s being ambushed – hell, it’s already happened once before! Her mother’s never been one to back down easily, so Santana doesn’t see the end coming anytime soon, not until Santana has a proper suiter by her side.

“I have to figure a way out of this,” She says suddenly before turning to Puck. “She’s already set me up on another date when I come home for winter break.”

“Damn, Mama Lopez works quick.”

Santana reached over and grabs his wrist. Her grip is so tight that Puck winces.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“You’ve got to help me,” Santana tells him, “What if I’m stuck going on boring dates for the rest of my life?”

Puck laughs as he pries her fingers off, “Why don’t you just date one of the girls you bring home for longer than a couple weeks?”

Santana shakes her head, “I can’t do that. Have you seen these women my mom has picked out? The Art Majors I’ve taken home can’t compete with that!”

“Well then I guess I can offer my services.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “One: that ship sailed a long ass time ago. Two: no one would believe it. Three: I need someone that’s actually impressive.”

“Rude,” Puck puffs out his chest, “I’m impressive. Check out these guns.”

Santana shakes her head as he starts to flex.

“You okay back there, Noah?” Professor Martinez asks, “You forget you’re not at football practice again?”

Puck instantly stops, “My B, Prof Martinez!”

While they get back to focusing on class, Santana’s gears are still turning, trying to come up with a solution to this mess.

After another few days of dealing with Maribel playing matchmaker, Santana’s had enough.

She and Puck are home trying to wind down after their long day of school and practice. Puck’s in the middle of ordering way too much pizza while Santana’s in the kitchen already halfway through her second glass of wine. She’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone when a text from Maribel comes through.

“This woman doesn’t quit,” Santana laughs as she joins Puck on the couch, “Check this one out.”

Puck leans over and reads, “Likes quiet nights at home, reading and horseback riding.”

“She’s a horse girl,” Santana states, “My mother has recommended I date a horse girl.”

“She’s the hottest horse girl I’ve ever seen,” Puck compliments, “And hey, at least she’d know how to ri– “

“Don’t even,” Santana stops him.

“What?” Puck snickers, “Let me see the next one.”

Santana sighs but shows him anyway. They go through a couple duds before settling on another pretty blonde that sparks both of their attentions.

“This one’s in culinary school,” Santana says, “Not really a career path mom would’ve included in here but maybe she’s an heir to the throne or something.”

“Which throne?”

“Who knows,” Santana shrugs.

“Dating a chef would be cool. You’d always eat good,” Puck starts to smirk, “You see what I did there?”

Santana looks unimpressed, “Stevie Wonder could see that coming.”

Puck brushes her off as he takes a sip of his beer.

“You’re mean when you haven’t been laid,” He frowns.

Once the pizza comes, they lay out the boxes on the coffee table and camp out around it while they continue drinking. Puck has something random on tv but it’s so lame that it starts to be hilarious – or maybe that’s the alcohol talking. They go between watching the screen and scrolling through more of the profiles Maribel sends through.

“I don’t even reply to these things anymore,” Santana giggles.

“You’re leaving Mama Lopez on read?” Puck asks with his eyes all glassy, “Damn. That’s cold. Even your own mom gets the Lady Killer Lopez treatment.”

“That’s not a thing,” Santana laughs, “Besides, I reply to her just not when she’s trying to set me up with a future wife.”

Puck shakes his head, “How you gonna ghost her when you go home in a few weeks?”

“Maybe I’ll skip going home?”

“Bullshit,” Puck jokes, “Your mom would kick your ass then she’d kick mine for not locking you out of the apartment.”

“You right,” Santana chuckles, “I guess I’ll just figure it out when I get there.”

After a few more slices of pizza and more drinking, Puck gets an idea.

“What if you tell her you already have a girlfriend?”

Santana starts to giggle, “And who would this girlfriend be?”

“I don’t know,” Puck shrugs, “She’s made up!”

“Made up? That’s the worst idea ever.”

“She can’t send you pics of hot chicks anymore if you’ve got one though?”

“But I don’t have one,” Santana reasons.

“So lie.”

Santana quirks her brow, “You want me to lie to Maribel Lopez?”

Puck raises his beer, “Got a better idea?”

Santana thinks about that for a moment but everything’s kind of wine-soaked and cloudy.

“I guess not.”

Puck grins, “Then this is the answer to all your problems! Tell her you have a girlfriend already!”

It’s not one of her brightest moments in the world, but are any ideas bright after a bottle of wine? She just wants the constant texts about prospective suiters to stop and at this moment in time, Puck’s a goddamn genius.

“Done,” Santana says triumphantly and goes to send the text to Maribel.

“Liar,” Puck laughs, “You didn’t actually, right?”

“I sure fucking did,” Santana nods and shows the screen to her best friend.

“Can’t. Got a gf. It’s pretty serious,” Puck reads then falls on his back roaring with laughter.

“What?” Santana looks back at the text. The screen’s a little blurry so she squints, “Did I spell something wrong?”

“I can’t believe you actually sent that,” Puck says. There’s a brief moment of clarity where Santana regrets her decision but it’s quickly interrupted by Puck adding, “You never listen to me!”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that…”

Santana looks back at the screen contemplating whether or not she should follow up with a jk or just leave it, but the alcohol is making her move slower than usual. By the time she decides, there’s a next text from Maribel.

“Shit!” Santana throws the phone at Puck’s chest, “You read it. I can’t.”

Puck sits back up and does his best impression of Maribel as he reads, “Lovely. Can’t wait to meet her.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

“You’re so screwed,” Puck laughs, “What are you going to do?”

“Hell if I fucking know! This is your fault.”

“Hey, I didn’t send that message. You did.”

“You know how I feel about peer pressure!” Santana argues, “Mama didn’t raise no bitch.”

“You’re right, she raised a dumbass!”

“Fuck off!”

Puck laughs while Santana goes to stand and starts pacing but instead of straight lines, her path is curvy and she nearly trips over the leg of the coffee table.

“Sit your ass down. You’re making me dizzy!”

“I’m making me dizzy,” Santana snaps but slumps down on the coach. She tries to relax but her thoughts keep whirling, “Shit. What did I just do?”

Puck glances warily in her direction, “Okay. You’re killing my buzz. You need to chill.”

Santana shakes her head, “What I need is a hot and smart girlfriend who can put all these women my mom is trying to set me up with to shame now because apparently I have one of those!”

Puck raises a brow, “Where the hell you gonna find someone like that?”

Santana only shrugs as she downs the rest of her glass.

Puck nods, but something about Santana’s comment gets him thinking.

It takes about a week before Puck’s finally ready to present Santana with his solution. He’s like a giddy kid on Christmas morning as he leads Santana to a vacant study room one day before her cheer practice.

Santana grows even more curious as they walk by the smaller rooms available for booking and head down to the very end where the larger rooms are situated. She wouldn’t say she trusts Puck’s judgement because he’s partly the reason why she’s in this mess, but part of her really is curious about this big idea he has.

Or maybe the curiosity is actually desperation?

When they get to the last door, Puck pauses and turns to her.

“You ready?”

Santana gives him a curious look before shrugging, “I guess?”

Puck nods and swings open the door in a showy fashion.

There is a single table with two chairs set up on the near side of the room and Puck leads the way over, pulling the chair out for Santana so she can sit. She’s looking around cautiously, trying to figure out what’s going on here when Puck calls out.

“Okay ladies, you can come out now!”

“Huh?” Santana deadpans.

Suddenly, a side door opens and line of six women come sauntering out. Santana’s looking at them, trying to figure out if she can recognize who they are. Instead, she finds them giving her flirty looks accompanied by brilliant smiles. Santana’s momentarily starstruck by their beauty, but then she turns to Puck and remembers that she has no idea what’s going on.

“What the hell is this?” She asks him.

“Well,” Puck smirks as he takes the seat next to her, “These are the most eligible girls on campus that you can take home to impress your mom.”

Santana’s jaw drops, “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m so serious,” Puck replies, “I listened to what you said the other night. You need hot, smart, and put together – someone who can put all the ones your mom suggests to shame. Well, look no further because here they are!”

“Why does everyone feel the need to ambush me with beautiful women?” Santana mumbles to herself before looking at Puck, “How did you find these people?”

“I’ve got my ways,” Puck smirks, “They tick all the boxes – mostly – so you just have to pick one to be your girlfriend. Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” Santana says, “I don’t want a girlfriend!”

“They know that,” Puck replies, “They’re all wannabe actors. They see this as an opportunity to go all Jared Leto.”

Santana wrinkles her nose, “They’re going to send me a dead pig?”

“What? No, they’re going to go all method acting on you! They know the relationship is all for show is what I’m trying to say,” Puck explains, “They’re just going to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“So they’re basically escorts.”

“I mean,” Puck glances to them and back at Santana. He lowers his voice to a whisper, “I think one of them actually is. I’m not sure. No judgement though, do what you gotta do.”

Santana shakes her head, “No. Hell no.”

“Why?” Puck asks, “It’s like your personal episode of the Bachelorette. You love that show!”

Santana’s eyes widen, “Will you keep it down? I don’t love that show. I just like the drama.”

“Yeah whatever,” Puck waves off, “Just ask them a few questions and see which one you like the most and you’ll have a girlfriend. Boom!”

“I said no.”

“Come on, why not?”

“Why not?” Santana laughs, “Because I don’t want my life to be like that show. In fact, I was hoping it’d never happen to me and yet…here we are.”

Puck cringes but tries to smile through her anger, “At least we’re not on tv?”

Santana’s in disbelief, “Yeah. I guess there’s that.”

“You know, I worked really hard on this,” Puck frowns, “You know how many study sessions I’ve missed trying to find these people? I’m missing one right now, Britt’s so disappointed.”

“Boo-hoo,” Santana waves off, “I’m not doing this. I’m not about to pretend to date a random. First of all, they’re pretending to be someone they’re not on top of pretending to be my girlfriend. Second of all, I don’t know any of these people well enough to bring them around my family. It’s a shit show waiting to happen. God, you know what would happen if this got back to my mom? It would be way worse than what I’ve been doing.”

“How would it get back to her? Who would even tell?” Puck questions, “The girls have been sworn to secrecy!”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Santana argues, “Maybe her husband?”

Puck scoffs, “Coach wouldn’t – “

Santana gives him a look, “Who told her about the time cops busted up our Halloween party because some asshole tipped them off? And what about that llama that I helped your dumbass set free in the freshman dorms when you were drunk because of a ridiculous bet?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Puck slumps in his chair.

Santana stands and pats Puck on the shoulder, “This whole thing is a hard no. Good try though.”

“Thanks,” He sighs before calling out to the women, “Sorry, ladies! Deal’s off.”

The women all stop smiling and grumble beneath their breath as they exit the room, casting dirty looks at Puck and Santana.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” She says, “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“So winter break starts next week,” Puck mentions as the women file out of the room, “What are you going to do now?”

Santana shrugs, “I’ve been thinking of hanging back for Christmas so I can catch up on some work. Maybe make a little progress on that big assignment for Professor Martinez’s class.”

Puck’s brows rise, “You’re gonna stay home? I thought that was off the table?”

“Just for Christmas. I’ll definitely have to make an appearance for New Year’s,” Santana replies, “Maybe I’ll tell my mom I’ve gone home with my imaginary girlfriend to visit her family instead?”

“That could actually work,” Puck chuckles.

“Maybe,” Santana smirks, “Anyway…now you’ve got time for your study session with what’s-her-face.”

Puck laughs at that as he throws his arm around her shoulders, “You know I’m determined to figure this out for you, right? You asked for my help and I’m committed.”

“Yeah and I appreciate it,” Santana chuckles, “Go. Don’t want to keep Brittany waiting, she might draw a frowny face on your homework.”

Puck gets to thinking, “Don’t joke. She just might!”

While Santana continues to ponder on this dilemma, she contemplates swearing off alcohol for a long time. If she hadn’t been drinking with Puck that night then maybe she wouldn’t have dug herself into an even deeper hole. The longer she thinks on it, the more frustrated she becomes, but what can she do?

The next time Puck approaches Santana with a potential solution, it’s through a single text message a few days later:

Puckerman: Meet me at Rise & Grind at 3.

Santana eyes the message suspiciously. Judging by his last attempt, who knows what her best friend has up his sleeve this time. Still, she agrees because honestly she doesn’t have anything better to do and she’s curious. What could he possibly do to top his little Bachelorette stunt from the other day?

When she arrives to the café on time, Puck’s waiting for her outside the entry doors.

“Yo!” He calls out to her.

“Hey,” She greets in return before nodding at the doors, “I’m not about to walk into a blind date, am I?”

Puck laughs, “Mama Lopez got you all traumatized now?”

“I’m just saying,” Santana replies, “I don’t know if I can handle another one of your great ideas so this better be good.”

“Damn. Where’s the faith?”

“Why do you think I agreed to meet you? You’re lucky I even showed up,” Santana answers as she follows Puck inside.

“Okay, so hear me out – “

Santana freezes when Puck leads her to an occupied table. More importantly, a table being occupied by none other than Brittany S. Pierce herself.

“What the hell is this?” Santana snaps and turns to Puck, “Why is she here?”

Brittany also looks to Puck for an answer, “I could ask the same thing.”

Puck’s all devious grins and confidence as he pushes at Santana’s shoulders so that she’d sit across from Brittany. He grabs a spare chair from a nearby table and takes a seat between the enemies.

“So I’m sure you guys are wondering why we’re here,” Puck starts to explain.

“No shit,” Santana grumbles.

“I mean, I was meant to be here,” Brittany says and looks to Santana, “Just not with you.”

“Believe me, there are many places I’d much rather be,” Santana rolls her eyes and looks to Puck, “What is this about? I thought you were presenting me another one of your great ideas.”

“I am,” Puck insists, “If you’d just shut up for two seconds, I can explain.”

“Big ask,” Brittany teases, “She loves hearing the sound of her own voice.”

“Says you!” Santana snaps, “Seriously Puckerman, why’s she here?”

“Like I said, I’m meant to be here,” Brittany replies, “I booked this table.”

“Okay okay,” Puck interrupts Santana’s next insult, “The reason why you’re both here is that I think you two need each other.”

“Need each other?” Brittany’s brows rise comically while Santana’s just laughs.

“I need her like I need a nail to the head,” Santana says flatly.

“Same,” Brittany agrees then looks to Puck, “I thought we were here to make up for those study sessions you’ve been missing?”

“Of course you thought that,” Santana shakes her head, “What a nerd.”

“Hey,” Puck says sternly, “Didn’t you kick a girl out of your bed because she made you late for class?”

Santana’s jaw drops at the low blow, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Brittany starts to smirk, “Who’s the nerd now?”

Santana rolls her eyes and goes to stand, “This was a big fail, Noah. I don’t know what you were thinking but this – “

“I didn’t even explain yet,” Puck interrupts, “Just sit, okay? You two are already going to have to work together so you might as well start getting along now.”

“Back up,” Santana flinches, “What do you mean work together?”

Brittany gives them both a blank look, “I’m so confused right now.”

“No surprise there,” Santana quips to which Brittany scoffs.

“Okay look,” Puck starts again, “I may have spoken to Professor Martinez and now you two are sort of working together for the assignment.”

Santana’s eyes widen, “How the fuck did you manage to pull that off?”

“It was weirdly easy actually,” Puck shrugs, “A little fear and intimidation tactic to get Brittany’s partner to agree to the switch then I just hit up Prof Martinez to confirm.”

“I didn’t agree to a partner switch,” Brittany adds then cuts a glare to Santana, “Especially when that partner is you.”

Santana rolls her eyes at the blonde before looking to Puck, “Seriously, I’m this close to kicking your ass.”

Brittany sputters a laugh, “As much as I’d love to see that considering your bite-sized stature – ”

“I’ll show you bite-sized.”

“See!” Puck interjects, “You guys are already hitting it off!”

Santana and Brittany both stop to glare at him.

“Clearly, we are not,” Santana points out.

Santana’s starting to get really worked up about this now, she can feel her face heating with rage. Honestly, what the hell was he thinking? This might be even worse than the whole imaginary girlfriend idea!

Brittany on the other hand speaks more calmly, “I don’t know why you’d think it would be okay to switch partners without my permission or what you’re trying to drag me into but I’m not here for it. This grade is important to me. My education is important to me.”

“I know,” Puck says genuinely, “Seriously, I know. That’s why I did it. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Brittany frowns.

“Yeah, well it’s part of the reason why I did it,” Puck replies cryptically, “I think you two should work together, because you’re each other’s best chance at getting the grant. You’re the best in class!”

“I’m better,” Santana slips in.

Brittany gives her an amused look, “Sure.”

Puck shakes his head and looks at Santana, “I know you need this a lot more than I do.” Then he looks to Brittany, “So do you. And as cool as it would be to ride on Santana’s coattails for this, I don’t think I’d feel right sharing the benefits if I didn’t work as hard.”

“You’d have to win first,” Brittany comments.

“Right,” Puck agrees, “And it’s a slime chance of that if we’re teaming up – but you two? Together?”

Santana and Brittany share a glance, but they quickly avert their eyes back to Puck.

“Professor Martinez was right about what could be if you both put your differences aside,” Puck tells them, “If you two work together on this, it would be an easy win. You keep it the way it is, maybe none of us would get that grant.”

Brittany seems to really take in his words and consider the offer, while Santana watches him curiously. Since when has her best friend ever worried about riding her coattails for a good grade?

“Plus,” Puck adds, “It’ll help make your relationship a lot more believable.”

“Our what?!” Santana and Brittany gasp in unison.

“Your relationship,” Puck says, “You’ll be spending lots of time together working on this assignment, late nights at the library or whatever, sparks are bound to fly so a budding romance wouldn’t be the craziest thing ever. I mean, minus the whole hating each other part but you could just blame it on the sexual tension. Everyone’s already thinking it anyway.”

“Wait what?” Santana blinks blankly, “What do you mean they’re already thinking it?”

Puck ignores her, “You two working together on this assignment is the perfect cover! Like, how many lab partners have you hooked up with because you’ve spent so much time together? Personally, I’m at like a solid three and a half.”

“How can there be a half?” Brittany asks.

Puck only winks, “We got interrupted.”

Brittany looks taken aback, “Right…”

Santana, on the other hand, looks at Puck like he’s got two heads, “Have you lost your goddamn mind or have you been hit too many times out on that field and you’re now concussed?”

Puck sighs, “I’m serious.”

Santana stares back with her jaw tensed, still trying to decide how she feels about this proposition.

“I’m still on the relationship part,” Brittany mutters.

Puck looks to Santana with a proud grin on his face, “This’ll work.”

Santana doesn’t really know what to think at the moment. She hasn’t had enough time to process, but the logic is there – sort of. Call it a momentary lapse in judgement, but she let’s the thought roll around in her mind.

Unlike the girls he tried to set her up with the other day, she actually knows Brittany – she knows that she’s apparently a genius otherwise she wouldn’t be giving Santana so much grief. That’s at least one box checked so far?

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this,” Santana notes.

“Dude, you have no idea!” Puck replies excitedly, “It’s my best work yet. Look at her, she’s everything you asked for.”

Puck and Santana glance at Brittany who’s growing even more confused by the second.

“What exactly did you ask for?” She looks between the two skeptically.

The question goes unanswered though as Santana quickly interrupts.

“Puckerman, no.”

“Santana, yes.”

Brittany cuts in, “Can someone answer me?”

Santana looks to Puck, “Don’t.”

Puck doesn’t listen though, “Long story short, Santana needs someone to pretend to be her girlfriend for awhile so her mom will take her seriously.”

Santana’s face goes red as she gives Puck a death glare.

Brittany looks to her and smirks, “I’ve seen the women hanging off of you. It’s going to take a lot more than a fake girlfriend to do that.”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Santana mutters.

“I know,” Puck says to Brittany, “That’s why she needs someone hot and smart and impressive to convince Mama Lopez that she’s in a legit relationship and she’s serious about her future and stuff. She needs you!”

Santana’s heart plummets to her stomach. She can’t believe Puck’s just airing out her business like this to Brittany of all people. She can’t wait to give him a good kick in the crotch when they’re out of here, maybe remind him about what it means to be loyal.

“Okay, you know what?” Santana snaps, “Fuck you both,”

Brittany’s even more intrigued now though, so much so that she begins to smirk.

“So you need me?” She asks devilishly, “This is getting better by the second.”

“I don’t,” Santana rolls her eyes and stands, “You’re out of your mind, Puck.”

“Wait!” Puck tries, “I’m not finished.”

“Nah, I’ve heard enough.”

“I’ll listen,” Brittany says which makes Santana stop.

“You’ll listen?” Santana’s in awe, “Why would you entertain this?”

“Because I’m interested,” Brittany shrugs, “And I think it’s hilarious that you, Miss Santana Lopez, the supposedly smoothest talking femme fatale on campus needs help from little ole me.”

Santana can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Which is satisfying in of itself, but what’s in it for me?” Brittany questions as she looks to Puck, “Why do I need to be in a relationship with her?”

Santana goes to sit back down, drawn in by the banter, “I don’t know why you say it like that as if several women wouldn’t kill to be in your position.”

“Well,” Brittany starts to smirk, “They must not be as smart and hot and impressive as me or they’d be here, right?”

Santana rests back in her chair, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I thought,” Brittany grins and looks to Puck, “So what’s in it for me?”

Puck looks between the two before settling on Brittany, “From what we were talking about yesterday, I think you know the answer to your question, Britt.”

Surprisingly, Brittany suddenly softens.

“You’d benefit from this just as much,” Puck continues, “It’s Santana Lopez after all. You know she has some pull around here.”

“Right,” Brittany answers quietly.

There’s something beneath the surface, Santana can see it, but she’s not sure what and she’s not sure why her pull means anything to the blonde. Brittany only nods like she and Puck share some secret and that tugs at something deep within Santana. But before Santana can try and delve into what that secret might be, the spotlight’s back on her.

“And New Year’s is coming up,” Puck mentions to Santana, “You really want to go home empty handed after telling your mom that you’ve got this serious girlfriend now?”

Santana groans, “Fuck that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Puck nods, “Think about it. You both need each other in more ways than one but hey, what do I know? Just the dumb jock here. You’ve got to admit though that this could work.”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look as if they are contemplating whether or not they’d actually be able to stand each other long enough to make this relationship believable.

“You wouldn’t need to do it forever,” Puck adds, ��Just a few months or so.”

“True,” Brittany nods, “No way I could last any longer than that.”

“You got that right,” Santana agrees and looks to Brittany, “If you agree to this, you’ll have to fly home with me often. That means being around my family and there’s a lot of them. They’re going to be all up in your business too, can you handle that?”

“Easy,” Brittany shrugs, “Parents love me.”

Santana’s slightly impressed by the fact that Brittany’s seemingly confidence about this already. Most of the girls she has brought home either panic or don’t panic enough. She’s interested to see how much of this confidence holds up though when the time comes.

“And on campus,” Santana adds, “We’re going to have to act like a couple here too. We can’t slip up because word might get back to my mom and that’ll fuck up the whole thing.”

“It’ll be difficult,” Brittany replies, “But I’m sure I can manage, so long as you do your best work for Prof Martinez’s assignment. I need that grant.”

“We’ll get that grant,” Santana assures her.

“So,” Puck prompts, “What do you say? You two girlfriends now?”

Again, Santana and Brittany look back at each other. Santana eyes her analytically and she can’t believe she’s actually considering this. Ever since Brittany’s transferred here, she has challenged Santana academically at every turn, it’s been a nightmare. She’s never been one to share the top spot and now she’s expected to work with her? It’s crazy talk.

But the longer she stares, the more sense it starts to make because Brittany really does check all the boxes – no matter how much Santana hates to admit it. Obviously, the smarts are there otherwise they wouldn’t be in this rivalry mess but that’s not all there is. Brittany competes with the Brainiacs and she’s on the robotics team, she tutors in her free time and other nerdy shit Santana wouldn’t dare get involved with.

Not to mention, Brittany’s smokin’ hot. Like objectively speaking, Santana thinks. She’s got legs for days and this mega watt smile and those eyes – as much as she hates to make eye contact with her, it’s not the worst view in the world.

When Santana finally drifts back to reality, she lets out a deep sigh.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Puck clarifies.

“I’m not going to say it again,” Santana grumbles.

“And you?” Puck asks Brittany.

She hesitates first before nodding, “Yeah.”

“Yes!” Puck exclaims and looks to Santana, “See, I told you I was committed to figuring this out! Break out your phones, let’s make this Facebook official!”

Santana nods warily then looks to Brittany, “The first hurdle will be the annual New Year’s Eve party my mom puts together so we can use the week before as a practice run. Unless you’re heading home for Christmas?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’ll be here.”

“Great,” Santana replies, “God, I can’t believe I’m even talking about this. I can’t believe I have to pretend to be in a relationship with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Brittany says, “Like you aren’t even my type.”

Santana’s first instinct is to scoff, but she can’t help but wonder what Brittany’s reason for agreeing to do all this might be. Surely her parents aren’t also trying to set her up on dates with randoms? Either way, whatever it is – maybe Santana can have some fun with this? After all, what’s the point of fake dating your archnemesis if you can’t make them suffer a little?

“Please,” Santana smirks, “I’m the embodiment of your type.”

“Yeah. Right,” Brittany laughs, “You like them easy and ditzy.”

Puck only wears a proud smile as he watches from between them.

“Love the bonding, guys! No one’s going to suspect a thing!”

#Hate to Date #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #Fake Dating Au #Santana Lopez #Brittany S. Pierce #Fanfics

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