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ladyartemesia · 3 years

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All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

��Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

��Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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matthewtkachuk · 3 years

Text

if i showed up on your doorstep at 2 am, would you slam the door in my face or invite me in - jeff skinner

Despite a decades long friendship, the revelation that your best friend Jeff loved you resulted in you moving home and cutting him off completely. Two years later you show up on his doorstep.

pairing: jeff skinner x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol

word count: 9k

a/n: y'all made me do it. special thanks to everyone who read this on google docs and gave their opinion on the perfume they wear

It’s a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo.

Jeff knows this because he’s made the drive plenty of times - for family dinners and his mom’s birthday and celebratory drinks when Jill got her first job out of college.

He also knows this because that’s how far away you are physically, but mentally and emotionally you’re oceans away.

Best friends from an early age, you were an honorary Skinner before you could even read. They loved you like you were family, and you loved them that fiercely in return. Well, almost all of them. You and Jeff had always had a special bond, far beyond that of any of his other siblings or your own. A bond so special you had no problem following him to Carolina when he was drafted.

Things had broken down spectacularly in Carolina, a string of miscommunications and hurt feelings snowballing until not a single scrap of your friendship remained. Words were exchanged, shouted and screamed and sobbed, and then silence. The only sound after was the click of the door that you shut behind you.

Last he heard you were well on your way to becoming someone else’s wife.

It’s not the same guy you had been dating when things fell apart in your friendship. No, you’d cut that one loose when you fled for the familiarity of home. Nick was someone you’d both grown up with, part of your friend group but never able to breach the inner circle that was you and Jeff. Until you’d shown up broken-hearted in your hometown and ran into him down Main Street.

Jeff’s got a lot of regrets - missed shots and unnecessary penalty minutes, the doubt that creeps in when he’s in the middle of a scoring drought - but his biggest regret is letting you slip through his fingers. Because for as long as Jeff can remember, it’s always been you. Even when he didn’t know it, even when girls had cooties, even when he was still denying it himself, it’s always been you.

It’s too bad that for you, it wasn’t Jeff.

That’s about where things broke down in the kitchen of the home you shared in Raleigh. It was the same old story - the guy you had been seeing had been treating you wrong. Ignoring your messages for days, breaking plans and just overall acting shady. Out of concern for you, and with the unofficial support of a few friends you’d made out there, he’d cornered you in that kitchen to tell you that you deserved more.

He’d been right, of course, but the confrontation had sparked your fight or flight. As someone who’d never ran from a fight or adversity before, you’d dug your heels into the ground and raised your fists.

It was then, in the midst of a terrible fight that you’d realized the truth. Your friendship with Jeff was built on a lie. Because as much as you had always thought he respected you as a friend and as a person, Jeff had spent the entirety of your friendship halfway in love with you.

Fear gripping your heart and entirely on edge, you’d laughed. You’d laughed and absolutely destroyed him. More words were exchanged between the two of you and then nothing. Words you’d never take back, words he desperately wished he could.

A lifetime of friendship gone in the blink of an eye and he still didn’t know how it happened. He’d gone over it a hundred different times in a hundred different ways and he still didn’t understand it. How he’d wanted all of you, but settled for most of you. How he didn’t even have some of you anymore, how he really had none of you now.

How he had to hear thirdhand from his sister who heard from your brother that you were now sporting an expensive ring on your left hand from a guy who used to put gum in your hair.

He supposes it’s a cute story, a real lifetime original movie of a romance.

He realizes he probably won’t even get to see a wedding picture.

Buffalo was an easy choice when his contract ended and your perfume no longer lingered in his home.

He’s happy here - a lot closer to his family, and the guys on the team are a good bunch. They’re struggling, and he’s not putting up the numbers he all but promised when he signed his name on the dotted line, but they’re working hard and he’s optimistic.

There’s only one real other downside here.

You’re a two hour drive away, but you’ve never been so mentally and emotionally far away.

Two hours away, your life isn’t the picture perfect made for TV movie romance it appears to be. Sure, you’ve got the ring and the guy and the condo with the great view. You’ve got an okay job and your parents are proud of you, except... Except. Except. Except.

Except the metal of the ring is a gaudy yellow gold, when silver has been your preferred style since junior high. Except the condo with the great view doesn’t even have your name on the lease. Except your okay job is slowly killing you, your boss is a dick and your coworkers talk shit about you behind your back and you feel like you’re wasting your degree with menial tasks.

Except the guy isn’t who you thought he was, hell he’s not even who he was only a few short months ago before he put the lurid ring on your finger after a proposal that was far too public for your liking. Nick had been so attentive and sweet, reeling you in with honeyed compliments and promises, dates where time felt like it hadn’t passed at all yet like you’d lived a hundred lives together. Now, Nick paid more attention to the television or his secretary or his phone than you.

Once, Nick had been a cold beer on the patio kind of guy. Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had spent more than five minutes with him sober.

He didn’t hit you, he didn’t cheat on you, he didn’t belittle you. It also felt like he didn’t love you.

The pressure is stifling, the weight of your burdens suffocating. The ring on your hand and the promise on your tongue are leaden and heavy. Every day you wake up and wonder if you’re making a mistake. Every day you wake up and think about how all you’ve ever done in your life is make mistakes.

Except Jeff.

Until you’d made a mistake there, too.

When you let your fears and anxieties dictate your behavior. When you’d ran at the first sign of trouble. When you’d used his feelings as a scapegoat, pushing and pulling and gnawing at that hurt in your chest rather than acknowledge your own hidden feelings beside it.

Nick shifts in bed beside you, limbs half hanging off the edge of the bed in an attempt to keep as much distance between you as possible. At least, that’s what it feels like. Once, you’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Once, you sought out each other’s familiar warmth at night. Once, you’d woken up limbs as entangled as your hearts and souls.

The clock on your nightstand reads midnight, but it could be any time and no time at all as far as you’re concerned. You slip from bed and pull on a hoodie. It’s old and faded and Jeff’s. Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror you search for even a fraction of who you used to be, a hint of the girl you used to see reflected back at you. She’s not there.

But you can try and find her again.

Quietly, you pack a bag and write a note in your sloped handwriting with a blue pen on the back of a takeout menu. Gently, you place the yellow gold ring beside it and slip out into the night.

Carolina is warm. Like your mother’s embrace, like your niece’s laughter, like Jeff’s smile. Many people told you that you would regret following him out here, but you didn’t think you ever would. Because alongside seeing your best friend on a near daily basis, you’d also accumulated a solid group of friends with your best interests at heart, and you’d even found yourself someone to love the way you always wanted.

If that desire to love and be loved in return blinded you to the reality of your relationship, that was between you and him as far as you were concerned. Even as your friends grew worried, you brushed off their concerns and made excuses. He’s just working late, he’s just busy, he lost track of time. They let it go, let you sit in your own delusions of grandeur as you live in Jeff’s apartment and date someone who doesn’t deserve you and on and on.

Until Jeff can’t anymore.

Until you’re sitting on your shared couch with your makeup done just right, the pretty little black dress you’d been planning on wearing safely tucked back in your closet, and the most melancholy expression on your face.

It breaks Jeff’s heart, really it does. And not only because he’s been in love with you since before he knew there was a name for what he was feeling in his chest, but because you’re his best friend and you deserve a lot more than some broken promises and empty words. He bites his tongue through the entirety of a Leafs game you’d insisted the two of you watch together, even as your voice was barren of all emotion.

But then the game is over, and you’re moving robotically through the kitchen, movement broken and hindered just as your spirit is and suddenly Jeff can’t hold it in anymore.

“You can’t keep letting him do it to you.” It’s blurted and messy, but it does it’s job, the words shaking you from your emotional zombie like state.

“What are you talking about?” You try to deflect, try to answer him with a question, try to ignore the pit growing in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, Jeff knows you better than probably any other person on the planet, and certainly better than anyone in Carolina. “He treats you like shit and you just let him.”

“What am I supposed to do? Break up with him?” You scoff, “I love him Jeff! So what if he misses date night now and then or doesn’t always answer when I call? I love him!”

He turns on you quickly, desperation swimming in his eyes. He wants to tell you everything. Wants to wrap you up in his arms and love you right. But that’s not who you are and that’s not what you do, so instead he tries to get you to see reason. “Do you? Or are you just so blinded by your desire to be loved that you can’t see that he’s not good enough for you?”

It stings because you know he’s right. Deep down, you know you deserve more than half baked apologies and a derelict of a boyfriend. But you also fear that this might be it, your only shot at that happiness. So what if your boyfriend isn’t perfect. Show you a guy who is? For a moment you stare at Jeff, but that just brings on another wave of fear and anxiety and so you shout. “Oh and who is good enough for me huh? Please tell me I am so curious to know.”

It’s silent then as your words sink in all around you both. They twist and turn and curl around you, cutting you off from Jeff as it hits you.

Oh.

He feels it too, your sudden realization and it’s terrifying. It’s terrifying and scary and every other adjective out there to have his heart ripped from his chest and beating on the kitchen island for you to finally, really and truly, see.

And then you laugh. It’s not the laughter that he loves to hear, not the sweet giggle turned into gasping howls when you find amusement in something beautiful the world has to offer. It’s maniacal and hysterical and just fucking cruel as you gaze on his vulnerability and laugh.

He feels his heart break, feels it absolutely shatter as you pack your shit and go. Feels it as you sweep up the fractured pieces and deposit them directly in the trash.

It’s silent when you finally leave, no trace of your laughter remaining.

You don’t look back.

His phone reads 2 am when Jeff rolls over in bed to check it. For a moment he’s confused, disoriented and dazed as he tries to figure out what has woken him. And then he hears the frantic knocking at his front door. He gets up quickly, pulling on a pair of sweatpants in case it’s sweet Mrs. Higgins at the door. It wouldn’t be the first time she knocked on his door, but never this early in the morning. The thought of it potentially being some emergency has his movements quickening, hastened by the thought of something terrible wrong.

Except, instead of the sweet elderly lady who lives across the hall, it’s you in a pair of athletic shorts and a sweater of his he hadn’t seen since you left.

Maybe it’s stupid, but he thought you would look different. You don’t, though. Your hair is the same tone it’s always been, framing your face the way it always has. Even the sight of you in his hoodie is familiar, even as it warms him from the inside out. If he didn’t know better, didn’t have months and months of angst and pining and regret, he could almost pretend he was back in Carolina and you were still oblivious to the way you held his heart in your hands.

Almost.

Because alongside the warmth and the desire to pull you into his arms is the quiet devastation of your laughter and the thought of the large ring you should be wearing on your left hand. Jeff’s never been the kind of guy who could school his emotions, his grin too bright and uncontrollable like the sun rising in the east. Contrarily, every negative emotion rolls across his face more akin to large storm clouds rolling over the horizon. Now, confusion is written clear as day in the lines of his face as his eyes focus on the tan line in lieu of an engagement ring.

The silence is almost as stifling as the thought of the future you had been building. You don’t know what to say though, no words seeming big enough to fully encapsulate all you’re feeling. Truth be told, you don’t have a good reason for showing up here at two in the morning on his doorstep. There really isn’t a good reason. You don’t have a script carefully created, or a detailed pro con list, or a venn diagram showing the intersectionality of past and future and present.

He looks good, even if the expression on his face is more akin to shock than joy, even if he kinda looks like he could cry, even if you feel like you’re about to. You miss him. He’s right fucking there and you miss him. It’s been a dull ache in your chest in the past two years, but now the pain is sharp and shooting, radiating from the top of your head to your toes. Even just being here, in his presence, it’s like finally coming up for air after being stuck at the bottom of a swimming pool. Oxygen floods your lungs for the first time in months, a fog lifts from your mind, but the dark cloud remains shrouding you both. Because it’s still silent, and you’re itching to run.

To him, from him, into his arms, back into the night. You’re not entirely sure, but the urge is there all the same. Something deep within you calls to him, but something a lot closer to the surface is screaming at you to go. You shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have left Nick, certainly shouldn’t have driven two hours in the middle of the night.

But then he’s opening his arms and you fall right into them, like you were meant to do it all along. You fit like two puzzle pieces, even if the picture they’re part of is faded and worn, even if the edges are bent and torn, even if it takes a little wiggling to get them to fit together just right.

“How did we get here?” you blurt stupidly, the filter between your brain and your mouth nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t immediately react, not verbally at least, but you feel him stiffen all around you. Very carefully, he pulls back from you, a near unreadable expression on his face. The way his eyebrows have come together in the middle of his face tells you he’s upset. The lack of a smile only further validates the thought. “I mean- That’s not what I wanted to say-”

You see the internal struggle play out on his face through the scrunching of his nose, the twitching of his jaw. Finally, he settles on something simple. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know Jeff,” you sigh in return. It’s not the right thing, not even close. You know that before he reacts, but you still wince at the look he gives you. It’s broken, desperate, practically begging for you to lay your cards out on the table.

“That’s bullshit,” he replies, uttering your name. “Tell me the truth, what are you doing here at an apartment you’ve never been to in the middle of the night without your engagement ring? Huh?”

“Jeff-”

“Tell me the truth, please.” He’s not so much angry as he is hurt, and confused. Scared too, that you’re about to run off on him again but he can’t just sit here and let you pretend like you have no idea what possessed you to drive two hours to him in the middle of the night. “Not a word out of you in two years, and then you just show up here. Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Jeff, okay? I don’t know! I don’t know if I’m still engaged, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to reach out-” It’s not exactly true, but you’re not lying either. You’re not being purposefully deceitful, but the two hour drive hadn’t given you the clarity you’d hoped you’d find before ending up here.

“Are we just not going to talk about it?” He doesn’t have to elaborate further, despite your clear desire to ignore the fight that wrecked you both, it weighs as heavily on you as it does him. It kills you to think he doesn’t see that. As if he couldn’t see how destroyed you were by the thought of your life moving on without him in any capacity.

“I don’t- I don’t think there’s anything to talk about that other than what has already been said,” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice neutral. You cringe as you watch the anger light within him, the struck match finding the kerosene soaked rag you’d left behind.

“Jesus, you’re acting like I did something wrong. Like- Like I’d destroyed some precious family heirloom or kissed your sister something. Stop deflecting, my only crime was in loving you.” And there it is again, although this time spelled out a lot more clearly.

Love.

Jeff loved you.

Like, romantic, two and a half kids and a dog and a big house in the suburbs love. And you didn’t love Jeff like that, don’t love Jeff like that. Right?

He continues, taking your silence as an invitation to further the conversation, but it feels a lot more like a talking to than anything. “I never asked for anything from you. Ever. In the twenty some years of our friendship, I never asked you to want me or love me back. I never even told you that I loved you. You figured it out and you laughed at me and you ran. And then I didn’t hear from you for two years. I had to find out from my sister who found out from your brother that you were engaged to that dick who used to tease you in elementary school. So cut the shit, why are you here?”

It’s not unfair, the words and accusations he levels at you. It’s not unfair and it’s not untruthful and it’s certainly not uncalled for. It still makes tears spring to your eyes, makes your hand and bottom lip shake. “This was a mistake,” you spit out quickly and hastily make your retreat, wiping at your cheekbones with the heels of your hands. Jeff is quick to swear and utter your name, but you don’t stop.

He curses as he slams the door shut behind you. Although a very large part of him wants to rip the door open and chase after you, he doesn’t think “NHL forward chases girl in apartment building” is the kind of headline he wants his name attached to. He also knows you’re not in the proper state of mind for any confrontation or conversation for that matter. You’re so frustratingly deep inside your own head, you can’t see the forest for the trees.

It’s true, he’s never asked you for a damn thing in the entirety of your friendship, always willing to give and give and give. It’s you who had been so happy to take and take and take. His limited time, his attention, his energy, his smiles reserved specially for you, his hairbrained advice and his outstretched hand. Even in the deepest throes of his love for you, he never expected you to reciprocate or even acknowledge it. He was content to be your best friend for the rest of your lives, quietly resigned to sit at your right hand through thick and thin. For your happiness, he was ready to watch as you found love elsewhere, as you built a future with someone who wasn’t him. Because a future with you, even if he could never have you exactly the way he wanted you was more than worth it.

Until you’d taken his feelings and thrown them right back at him.

It’s near 3 am now, and he knows his best course of action is to get back into bed, try and get some sleep. After all, in the morning he’s got a two hour drive.

You cry the entire way home, barely managing to pull yourself together enough to cross at the border without causing some sort of international incident. It’s late when you pull into the driveway of your childhood home. Despite your best efforts to quietly slip into the house after finding the spare key tucked in its usual hiding spot, your mom is flicking on the light to the kitchen and calling your name with confusion laced alongside the exhaustion in her tone.

Collapsing into her arms you tell her everything. From the fight two years ago to the one only two hours ago. There’s not a single detail you don’t include, well except for one. Being the remarkable woman you know her to be, she manages to pull it out of you anyway with a simple question. “Are you in love with him too?”

“It’s not that simple,” you reply carefully, but the look she gives you is so knowing it makes your stomach twist.

“It could be,” she says knowingly and it’s only slightly more annoying at twenty something years old than it was when you were in high school. The look is the same and her tone is the same, and if you’re really being honest, even the boy is the same. It’s been Jeff at the forefront of your mind and on the front step of this house and in the frame of every picture on the mantel. Always Jeff holding your hand in one of his while the other held so delicately onto your heart. Always something more just barely out of reach, on the peripheral of your vision if only you would smarten up and grasp it.

“It can’t,” finally leaves your lips, voice broken in a way that only the weight of your own actions can. Your mother knows you better than almost any other person on the planet, a consequence of knowing you for every single second of your existence, and so she knows when it’s time to surrender the battle in order to win the war. She pulls you in for a tight hug, her embrace more calming and soothing than any natural ailment cure in the world before she goes back to bed, shutting the light off as she goes.

The couch isn’t the most comfortable, nothing like the faded leather sectional that Jeff had in your apartment in Raleigh. Your bedroom became an office two weeks after you left for college, and the spare room more likely than not was covered in random items that your parents hadn’t had the time to put away. The blanket you wrap yourself in is familiar, a patchwork quilt gifted to your family by your grandmother. You know if you were to look through the photos on display this very quilt would feature in multiple of the ones of you and Jeff.

It’s a comforting thought as you drift to sleep, so close to the sweet rest of unconsciousness when your phone buzzes once, then twice. Suddenly the vibration pattern indicates there’s a phone call coming through. You ignore it, turning onto your side so that your face is smushed into the back of the couch, willing whoever it is to give up. Your phone buzzes signifying the caller left a voicemail before the familiar pattern begins again. Who in the world would be calling you at 5 in the morning?

You shoot up, quilt falling to the floor as you consider it might be Jeff. There’s a large part of you that feels terrible for the way your stomach sinks as Nick’s photo lights up your screen. So he woke up and found you gone. You flick up the screen, simultaneously unlocking the phone and silencing the vibration to see several unread messages. They’re in varying degrees of panic, wondering where you are, wondering why you’d left behind your ring.

It’s late and you’re tired, so tired of being sad and lonely and unhappy that you turn your phone to do not disturb and get some sleep.

In hindsight Jeff should have known better than to jinx himself the way he had as your door swings open to reveal your mom. He doesn’t want to do the small talk thing, not when your car is in the driveway and he can see your coat hanging on the hook just behind the open door. “Hey, mom,” he speaks softly, mouth upturned in some sort of smile-grimace hybrid gesture. “Is she here?”

“It’s good to see you Jeff,” she says by way of greeting instead, “Why don’t you come inside?”

Your head perks up at the mention of his name, every sad curve of your body screaming with your regret. There’s barely a moment’s pause before you’re launching off the couch and into his arms. He’s not prepared for it, having spent the entirety of the drive rehearsing his apology, practicing the words he would say to convince you to let him back into your life. There aren’t words to describe how right it feels to have his arms wrapped tightly around you, to be so completely surrounded and encapsulated by all that is his large presence. If you had to try though, there’s only one word that comes close to portraying it all: home.

Jeff’s arm’s are the greatest home you’ve ever known, far beyond that of the four walls surrounding you, or the neighborhood or even the city itself. He was always your safe space, your soft spot to land, the one place you could always turn no matter the circumstances. Until he wasn’t. Until you couldn’t.

It could have been two seconds, two minutes, two hours or two years - simultaneously the longest moment and the shortest breath as you stood with him on the precipice of your childhood home. You’re not entirely sure when your mom snuck away, but she’s not lingering as you finally pull from him. “I’m sorry,” you both blurt out at the same time.

“I’m sorry I keep running.” It’s a tough admission to make, to admit that at least that much is definitively your fault. Other parts of the friendship breakdown are your burdens to carry, too - your reactions, your inappropriate laughter and hasty retreat, the two years of cut off communication at your continued behest.

But you’re not alone in your ownership here, either. Jeff all but confirms it with a quiet “I’m sorry I never told you. But look at your reaction and tell me I didn’t have a good reason to keep it to myself.”

And again and again the blame shifts back to you, because you were callous and cold in your recoil, because you were the unreasonable one, because his crime had been only what he said - in loving you behind your back.

“I don’t want to play the blame game,” he sighs finally, the quiet, lingering hurt written across the planes of your face so clear to see, cutting him just as much as it pains you. “I just want my best friend.”

There’s more he wants, of course. If he’s really and truly honest with himself he wants your love, too. He’s got some of it, certainly, obvious in the way you look at him and the way your body so perfectly curves around his own. It’s in nights past, sleepovers and secrets and swimming pools. It’s some of you, but not all of you.

It��s not the way you look first thing in the morning, sleep heavy on your eyelids and a desire for coffee running through your veins. It’s not the little black dress picked out just for him, or your heels in his hand as he gives you a piggyback ride home, or locked limbs on the sofa while you watch a romantic comedy on netflix.

It’s not all of you, and there’s never been so clearly poignant a reminder as your fiance - boyfriend? ex? acquaintance? - Nick bursting through your front door and setting fire to any goodwill that you’d managed to build together. It’s so startling a reminder, Jeff feels it like a punch to the gut, the despair of never knowing what it’s like to have all your love swirling and turning.

“I’m gonna go.” You want to reach for him, but something about his body language screams that he would only dodge your advance and so you keep your hands to yourself, eyes darting wildly between the two men.

“Jeff-”

He says your name so sweetly, if it weren’t for the look on his face you might not even know something was wrong, and then repeats himself. “I’m gonna go. I think there’s a conversation you need to be having and it’s more important than the one we’re having.”

Jeff leaves without another word and it’s like he took a piece of you with him, as you stand in your living room without a single thing to say to the man in front of you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Nick breaks the silence first, and your shoulders deflate at the thought of it all. How do you explain to him that you just truly don’t know what you want anymore? You’re so confused by everything, betrayed by your own past and your own feelings, you’re not sure of anything. Well, anything except the fact that you can’t marry him. He pulls the ring out of his pocket, idly twisting and turning and spinning the metal object in his grasp as the quiet surrounds you both.

He doesn’t get angry and for that you’re grateful, you’re not sure you have it in you to fight like that, not so soon after last night with Jeff. “It’s not like that-”

“Then what’s it like, because from where I’m sitting I woke up alone, with your ring and a shitty apology scribbled on a pizza delivery menu, and now you’re here with someone you said you hadn’t spoken to in years.”

And yeah, it looks bad because it is bad, but it’s not bad in the way he’s thinking. “I hadn’t! It’s not- I just-” You have to stop, pausing to catch your breath and let your brain catch up to your mouth. “Do you love me?” you ask, finally.

The three second pause tells you more than he ever could.

You’re not sure what Nick thought he would be walking into, or what he had hoped to accomplish by showing up here. You don’t think reciprocal apologies, a tight hug with a lingering kiss pressed to a cheek and that god awful ring back in his pocket comes even close, but that’s what you leave each other with.

You don’t tell Jeff about what transpired in your living room after he left, and he never asks. He has plenty of opportunity to ask, though, between your daily texts and calls that come in every so often. It’s impossible to fall back into the friendship you’d so carefully curated all those years ago, too much baggage and dead weight in the way of it all, but it’s a start.

For Jeff, it’s just nice to hear about what’s going on in your life first hand, rather than to hear it from one of his sisters. He likes that he can call you after a bad game, hear your voice tell him things will be okay, that all hope isn’t lost just because he’s in a scoring rut. When they play in Toronto, he leaves you a couple tickets and pretends his heart doesn’t constrict at the sight of you in a jersey bearing his last name.

It’s nice, to have your best friend back in your life, to be able to turn to Jeff with your petty work drama or rant to him about the latest book you read after being recommended it on tik tok. You realize just how much you took for granted sharing an apartment with him, where he had been just down the hall when you needed him - whether it be a bad day, giant spider, wobbly bookcase, or any other number of things. The distance is only two hours, but fuck it feels like he’s on another continent.

It’s why you jump at the chance to head down to Buffalo for a long weekend, bags packed and mind open to all the possibilities that lay before you. You’ve had a few more conversations - with your mom, with your brother, with your best friend, with one of Jeff’s sisters - and you think you have a clearer picture of what you want. At the end of it all, what you want is Jeff, in whatever capacity you can have him in. The years without him were dark and cold, reminiscent of a harsh Canadian winter, but having him back in your life is like the first inkling of spring - green buds on trees and the sparkling gleam of melting snow. Jeff is the first breath of warming air, the bright sun rising and shining light on the world.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough to fill in that absence.

The reunion in Jeff’s apartment parking garage is sweet, a picturesque romantic comedy moment wherein you abandon your bags in favor of jumping into his outstretched arms. His grin is contagious, the way it splits his face wide open bringing a sense of pure elation to your system. There’s no excuse for the way you squeeze yourself around him, but you whisper “I missed you,” in his ear all the same.

He’s every bit the gentleman his mama raised, carting your heavy duffle bag with the practiced ease of a man who is constantly travelling without you having to ask. His hand briefly brushes your own as you walk side by side into his building, and as someone who has a lot of practice reading his emotions, you spot conflict and hesitance out of the corner of your eye. Taking matters into your own hands - literally - you link your hands together and don’t bother hiding your own growing smile.

You’re tired the first night you’re there, a cocktail of a disastrous week at work and the long two hour drive, and so dinner is Vietnamese, eaten on the same couch he’s had since his first year in the NHL, the very couch you had sat on the night things went to hell, the same couch you had napped on more times than you could count. For a moment it’s like you never left, like you’re sitting back in that apartment in Carolina. There’s a game on that neither of you pay attention to, and you’re definitely not sitting as close as you maybe once would have, but you could almost close your eyes and pretend.

You fall asleep with your feet in Jeff’s lap watching a movie that you couldn’t name a single actor or plot point in even if there was a gun to your head, and wake up tucked into the guest room without any recollection of even waking up. It’s the sun filtering in through the gap in the curtains, something you would have surely fixed had you not been beyond exhausted last night, and once you get up to fix it, you decide there’s no use in trying to sleep in further.

Jeff’s drinking a cup of coffee on the couch, the highlights playing with the volume down low, but his focus is more on his phone. He barely notices you sneak up on him until you’re practically on top of him, but he breaks out into a grin when he does. You swipe the mug from his hands, taking a sip and cringing at the ultra sweet taste. It’s comforting in a way even through the shock to your system, the knowledge that as much as things had changed in the past few years, he still had no restraint when it came to adding sugar and cream to his morning cup.

“So, you wanna see all the great things Buffalo has to offer?” Jeff asks with a grin while loading the dishwasher, waving off your attempts to help since he was the one who cooked, too.

You shrug nonchalantly, but you can’t stop the intrusive thought that pops in your head, the one that states you’d probably go anywhere he asked you to.

It turns out that seeing Buffalo is really just code for a trip to the zoo in the morning and early afternoon, bleeding into a quick trip to the falls. You’re a little distracted by the presence that is Jeff, coupled with the developing feelings you’ve been tripping over lately, and so you’re not as present as you’d like to be - taking a second too long to laugh at his jokes, flinching when your arms brush. You’re as quick witted as ever, though, managing to slip in a quip or two about how Niagara is better from the Canadian side alongside reminiscing about the time you’d both skipped school to take the bus to the zoo.

Jeff is nothing but kind and careful and sweet, so respectful and so cognizant of the invisible lines you’ve both drawn around you. He doesn’t take a single thing about you or your friendship for granted, and while it’s endearing, it’s also frustrating as hell that he doesn’t feel like he can just step into your space without a warning.

Dinner is a bit more of an intentional feat, meeting a few of his teammates and their girls downtown at a restaurant that has you critically picking at the rip in your jeans, but Jeff’s arm around you is grounding enough that you forget all about it before you’ve even received the drinks you ordered. His teammates are funnier than you’d previously given them credit for, and it’s another stark reminder of the way things used to be. Back in Carolina, it was more than given that you would accompany Jeff to nights out with the boys - regardless if their respective wives and girlfriends were included in the invite themselves or not.

It’s not an unfair sentiment to state that you probably had a drink or two more than you should have in polite company, but Jeff doesn’t mind. The just north of tipsy version of you is one of Jeff’s favorites - the weight of the world not so heavily on your shoulders, a near perma-grin on your face, your filter all but non existent.

Your voice is a touch too loud as you shout out goodbye to the boys and their better halves and let Jeff tuck you into the passenger seat of his car. Before he’s even moved around to his side, you’ve got your phone hooked up and are scrolling through spotify. It doesn’t even bother him that you don’t let a single song play in its entirety, skipping some four seconds in, some two minutes. All the while you’re chatting away about everything and nothing.

It’s not until you’re back in his apartment, face freshly washed and teeth brushed in your pajamas, that you let something a little more serious slip out of your mouth. Sliding over to him, it’s like you can’t pull yourself away from his energy, moving across the hardwood floor almost as if you were floating. “I missed you,” is what you speak into his chest, arms tightly wound around him.

He pulls back slightly to look you in your eyes, and for a moment you wonder if this is it. If this is the moment that your friendship has been building up to your entire lives. If this is where every hurt and every doubt and every anxiety is revealed to have been worth it, just a momentary pause on an important journey. But he just smiles in a way that makes you feel kind of sad and you don’t know why, before he’s kissing your forehead and bidding you goodnight.

Jeff’s gone for morning skate when you wake up, but there’s a still warm cinnamon bun from a local bakery alongside a note on the kitchen island. You relax all morning, making use of Jeff’s couch and hulu account. Few words are exchanged when he finally makes his way home, besides a murmured thank you as the two of you enjoy the lunch you cooked. His game day routine is pretty much exactly as you remember as he goes to take a quick nap after you’ve eaten.

You almost choke on your own spit when Jeff exits his bedroom again later, all dressed up in his game day best. The suit's new, you think, not one you remember from Carolina, and it fits him in all the right places. It’s the gentle way he startles, eyebrows rising as he offers you his water bottle that has your stomach flipping even harder. Shaking him off with a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk into the kitchen to give yourself some space, but Jeff’s never been very good at picking up on those non-verbal cues and so he follows you, crowding your space even further.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks. When you nod, he smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way you’ve always admired. “I’ll leave you some cash for the cab, and then we can drive home together, okay?”

And it’s nothing special, no grand declaration of love, not like the ones before now. It’s no earth shattering revelation, no larger than life spectacle, no fireworks, no alternative indie soundtrack playing in the background. It’s just you. And it’s just Jeff. And it’s just everything he is.

Your best friend, your confidant, your shelter and your safe space to land.

Always so respectful of your boundaries, even as you threw every negative, hurtful word you could think of at him, even as you turned into nothing more than former friends turned strangers. And he’s just never asked for more, never demanded a thing from you, never expected more than you were willing to give. All you see is how much he cares for you, all that he used to do for you and all that he’s more than willing to do now.

You see just how good he is. To you, for you.

And God, how could you ever have been so fucking stupid? So completely, fucking blind?

It all flows through you, every individual atom of your body lighting up and coming alive with your revelation. You love him. More than someone loves their childhood best friend, more than you’ve ever loved a man before. It’s Jeff for you, and it always has been. You were foolish to ever think otherwise.

Jeff’s got no idea what’s going on in that brain of yours, though he often wishes he could read your mind. You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief all on your own over there, and he wants to reach out and smooth the crease between your brows, but he keeps his hands to himself. If he’s honest, it’s getting harder and harder to do that. To have you so close but not in the way he wants you would be torture to anyone else.

Not to Jeff, though. Jeff just loves you and is appreciative of every piece of you that you’re willing to give him, offering his heart up in return.

His heart stumbles as you turn to face him and cross the space between you in three quick and easy strides. Jeff watches you lose your nerve the closer you get, until you’ve stopped in front of him to throw your arms around him, speaking only the most superficial of your thoughts for now. “Good luck tonight, Jeff.”

The view from the box is a good one, and the girls and families are more than welcoming, even the ones you didn’t meet last night. The large #53 jersey you wear feels a little stiff, and so you find yourself pulling at the collar intermittently all night. It feels like there are eyes on you the whole time, even though you know that’s all but impossible in the privacy of the box.

The game itself is a good one too, which is a blessing in and of itself in the midst of trying times for the team, as Jeff manages to pick up a couple points, including a short handed goal in the second. The entire time you’re flipping between worrying about your feelings and imagining every way things could go wrong, so deep in thought you almost miss the goal.

You’re not sure if you really belong here now, having followed the others down to the locker room hallway. It’s got you picking at the jersey again, wondering if you should take it off or leave it on, if you should stay put or start running. You’re torn almost directly down the middle, with half of you wanting to kiss the life out of your best friend, and the other half wanting to keep this secret buried even harder and longer than it already had.

In the end, your body chooses for you, as you find yourself running into Jeff’s arms the second he’s cleared the locker room. You don’t even take the time to admire his suit for the second time. He’s a giggly albeit confused mess as he catches you, but you don’t even give him time to think as you grab his face in your hands and press your lips to his. It’s a bit of a mess then, as he stumbles forward while whistling and catcalls are thrown around the hallway.

“It’s you, Jeff,” you state after you’ve pulled away to catch your breath, sounding every bit the cheesy romantic love story your life has become, “It’s always been you.”

The grin on his face is worth every bit of pain of the past two years, and his kiss is, too.

It’s a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo.

But that doesn’t stop your parents and brother from joining Jeff’s family in their trip down to the house you now share with Jeff for American Thanksgiving. It hadn’t worked out for everyone to come down prior to now, and Jeff hadn’t been able to come up for Canadian Thanksgiving last month, and so it’s the first real holiday you’re hosting both families for after agreeing to move in this past summer.

You’re a verifiable mess about the whole thing, starting with a mishap thawing the turkey wherein it wasn’t ready to be tossed in the oven this morning, leaving you to try and make up for lost time at a higher temperature. Earlier, you’d sent Jeff out to grab a pumpkin pie, only for him to return with apple because there ‘wasn’t a single pumpkin pie in all of Buffalo’, which resulted in you frantically trying to bake one with your very limited time.

Jeff, bless him, tries his best to help you in your chaos, but only succeeds in getting himself kicked out of the kitchen - literally as you push his larger body out of the room, while reassuring that you love him, really, but he needs to get the hell out of your way.

It doesn’t really get better, especially as you hear the distinct sound of your mom’s laughter while you’re midway through washing your hair in the shower after finally being persuaded by Jeff to do so. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “I can handle things for a few minutes,” he said. In your panic to finish showering quickly, you nearly blind yourself rinsing your hair, and slip a little as you rush out of the shower.

Everything’s fine, though, when you exit your shared bedroom, fully dressed with hair so wet you’re dripping on the hardwood. Your mom is still laughing, and your dad is smiling, and Jeff’s in the center of it all, regaling your brother with a story from the road. You only slink back to the bedroom to continue getting ready when your mom gives you a pointed look.

Jeff’s family arrives soon after, your home overrun with the energy of his five siblings, but you really and truly wouldn’t have it any other way, especially as Jeff’s hand never leaves your waist. You’re all piled in the living room, laughing and smiling and catching up with one another. It’s a great time, really, even through the chirping and the teasing about you and Jeff ‘finally getting your shit together.’

That is, until the smoke detector goes off and you gasp, “the turkey!”

As it turns out, bumping up the temperature of the oven wasn’t your best and brightest moment. Both of your moms follow you to the kitchen, your mom quickly rushing to the oven to see if anything is salvageable while Jeff’s mom comfortingly wraps an arm around your shoulders, her hand running up and down your shoulder.

It’s stupid, really, the way tears begin to burn at your waterline, but all you had wanted was a nice, perfect Thanksgiving. Maybe that was an unrealistic goal, an unattainable feat, but it’s what you wanted all the same. And it’s definitely silly, but you can’t help but feel the failed meal is somehow a reflection of your relationship, or worse yet, a prediction of your future with Jeff.

After all, if you couldn’t cook a simple turkey dinner, what hope was there for you for the rest of it?

Jeff’s more patient than you, kinder and sweeter too, and yet above all else he’s also more resourceful. A few quick phone calls reveal there’s not a lot of options for delivery on Thanksgiving, and so he settles on pizza before finding you standing in the same spot in the kitchen. Both your moms have settled into a routine of cleaning up your mess, but you’re just kind of standing there looking like someone kicked your puppy.

“Hey,” he says quietly, pulling you into his arms. You go complacently, beyond your desire to be wrapped up in him, you don’t have any energy to do anything but follow his lead. “I ordered food.”

It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but it makes you feel worse, more like a failure than you already do. And so you slump further into his arms, with a muffled ‘I’m sorry’ pressed to his chest. His hand runs through your hair for a moment before cupping your face to make your face tilt up towards his own.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, love,” he tells you earnestly, and truthfully you believe he means every word he’s speaking, but you can’t shake the feeling of failure that has gripped your insides.

“I just wanted things to be perfect,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact.

He just smiles. “They are perfect, the important part is we’re all together. So what the turkey didn’t work out, I know you all had more than your fair share last month. And your pumpkin pies look really good.” His words make you smile in return, and his grin turns triumphant. “There’s that smile I love so much.”

And so maybe Thanksgiving isn’t the grand dinner you’d envisioned. There’s no turkey, and the stuffing and mashed potatoes look out of place next to the several large pizza boxes on the counter. But Jeff’s in your life, and even better yet you’ve let him into your heart, something he has not and will never take for granted. Both of your families are all here together, and neither of your moms are subtle about the way they grin at you and let their eyes flicker to your empty left hand.

It may be a two hour drive from Markham to Buffalo, but there’s not even two inches of space between Jeff and where you’ve fallen asleep against his shoulder while the last of the Thanksgiving football games play on TV.

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #jeff skinner fic #jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner imagines #jeff skinner x reader #i quit tagging is hard lol #shelb writes

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tobesobri · 4 years

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist 🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

#sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors #im just glad to have written something tbh #but yeah let me know what you think! and i hope you all have a great halloween and that you're staying safe!#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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montrealmadison · 3 years

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drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here.

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries.

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know?

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means.

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special.

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

#shitty knight #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbitswedding #omgcp #check please #this idea jumped into my head and refused to leave #shitty & jack & bitty friendship my beloved #my writing

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tiffdawg · 3 years

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Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

“Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

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Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal @roxypeanut @unstoppableforcce @technicallykawaiisoul @mrsparknuts @weirdowithnobeardo @seeking-a-great--perhaps @assultsofthought @arrowswithwifi @larakasser @romewritingshop @none-of-your-bullshit @the-bird-suit @magneticbucky @bbygrgu @luminarahan @buckstaposition @grapemama @emzd34 @itsilvermorny

Javier: @wander-lustbabe

Tag lists are always open.

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

Text

Thought You Liked Me Too

Part 1 of Not the One series.

Summary: Blaine is just starting at NYADA, spies Kurt Hummel, and promptly falls in love. One issue, Kurt is dating the lead singer of the acapella group Blaine wants to join.

Notes: Partly inspired by Maisie Peters’ song “John Hughes Movie”

Read Part 2 here

AO3

Blaine tells his friends that the first time he saw Kurt Hummel was at the club they frequent.

When they tease him about his little crush, it’s everything straight out of his daydreams. Dancing with Kurt in the middle of a dancefloor not caring who’s watching, foreheads pressed together breathing in each other’s air, and being able to lean in anytime he wants to kiss him.

Except none of those daydreams are true and none of those friends are really Blaine’s friends.

Sam made friends with a bunch of upperclassmen who had connections to get the pair of roommates fake IDs. Callbacks was a primarily NYADA scene so the NYU students wanted nothing to do with it. Blaine had spent the last weeks of summer hanging out with Sam’s NYU friends exploring the city by day and clubbing at The Lion’s Den at night.

He knew once he started school some of his weekend nights would be spent here and others at Callbacks. Hopefully, Blaine Anderson could make friends at NYADA as easily as Sam had at NYU.

It had only taken two days before Sam came back to their apartment talking Blaine’s ear off about a group of guys he spent orientation with, “seriously dude, Dante and I are like long-lost twins.”

Blaine thought the same thing about him and Sam.

“That’s great, Sam.”

“We’re going out tonight. They want me to meet the rest of the group.”

Blaine was still scrolling through his phone, checking his emails again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything from school. They sent out orientation day schedules when he and Sam went grocery shopping yesterday. Ever since Blaine’s been slightly on edge. Maybe he should update his email notification preferences?

“You have to come!” Sam exclaimed, jumping onto the couch. “Please, Blaine! You’re my best bud. I want you to meet them.”

“I don’t know Sam…they’re your classmates.”

“Come on! It’ll be fun.”

It never took much to cave to Sam. Not when he made his lips so pouty.

“Fine, when and where?”

“Yes!” Sam did an air fist bump. “9 at the Lion’s Den.”

Then, Sam disappeared into his bedroom.

“The Lion’s Den,” Blaine murmured. “Doesn’t sound threatening at all.”

Blaine came to learn that The Lion’s Den was always crowded. Even on weeknights. From trivia night to karaoke to wing specials, everyone had a reason to be here. Not to mention their cheap drinks. If you wanted a fun, inexpensive buzz this was the perfect place.

Their lenient ID policy helped too.

The story of his first Kurt Hummel sighting went something like this: Spinning around on his barstool, after ordering himself a vodka coke and getting a weird look from the bartender, to admire the decor. Dark blue walls with high ceilings. Metal lion heads at every corner. Plenty of multicolored lights dancing over the patrons.

That’s when he saw him.

Bright blue eyes in a sea of dancers. Pushing his way out of the center of the dance floor.

He tells their friends for weeks to come that it was Kurt’s silver shirt that caught his attention that night. Blaine hadn’t known anyone could pull off such a color. It appeared to be made of silk and doused in glitter with the way it shined under the colorful lights in the club.

But that’s all fiction. A story he created because he was laughably bad at hiding his feelings. It took four days after he spun this tale for Tina and Angie to ask questions over lunch. By this point, Blaine had already had his heart broken by Kurt but kept up pretenses for the girls.

What’s his name?

Who’s got you smiling like that?

Someone put a twinkle in your eyes.

Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.

Even when Blaine knew there was no hope, his heart held on. Kurt Hummel had left his mark on him from just one measly conversation. So, he lied and told them he had a crush on some guy he saw at the club. A guy he didn’t speak to and would never see again. A guy whose name would never leave his lips.

Tina called him a hopeless romantic. Angie insisted Blaine would see him again.

If only she had known how right she was. Kurt Hummel wasn’t just some guy he saw in passing. Kurt had actually been at the bar that night dressed in that exact shirt but it wasn’t the first time Blaine had seen him.

Actually, Kurt went to his school. Not that any of Sam’s friends knew that—they all attended NYU. Blaine’s pretty sure they’re just tolerating him tagging along to their hangouts because of Sam. With the exception of Tina and Angie. They were the only ones who sought Blaine out—asked him to lunch. But even their friendship wasn’t solid. They had just met a few weeks ago when Sam started orientation.

A bunch of freshmen all desperate for friends in the big city. Who knows if it would last ‘til Thanksgiving. Now that school had officially started for them, they would surely get busy and Blaine’s feelings would be lost in the hustle and bustle of student life. The girls would forget about him and if he was lucky, Blaine would forget about Kurt.

Except, the real first time Blaine saw him was at NYADA. It was actually on the first day of school, four days before he saw Kurt’s silver shirt amongst the dancers at The Lion’s Den. He was using his space between class times to tour the school, trying to figure out where the rest of his classes for the week would be. Kurt had found him in the hallway where he had been studying the bulletin board filled with organizations you could join.

From chess to anime to superheroes, Blaine couldn’t choose which interests of his to pick. The only thing he knew he wanted to be involved in was Glee Club. Of which, NYADA had a ton. Luckily, Blaine already had his interests in a glee club narrowed down.

All of the brightly colored flyers had tabs to pull so you had the information to contact them about joining. He pulled the tab for the Apple’s Adams; the only acapella glee club on campus. Blaine had just finished his three years as the lead singer for the Dalton Academy Warblers and was pretty sure he’d get invited to join the Apples.

That’s when Kurt approached him though Blaine didn’t know his name at the time.

“The Apples?” he asked.

Blaine looked down shyly at the green tab in his hand. He met the man’s eyes and nodded. “I love to sing.”

“Me too,” he said, “I’ll see you at auditions, break a leg.”

That was it. No hello, no introductions, just a ‘good luck’ and a promise of seeing the most handsome man Blaine had ever seen again. If Blaine was going to daydream about someone at least he knew Kurt and he already had something in common.

He couldn’t wait for auditions.

The second time he saw Kurt Hummel wasn’t at the club either. This time Blaine was getting coffee. Standing in line debating if he should get another cronut or should he just stick to a medium drip and be on his way. Then he heard this voice coming from a table behind him.

Since their encounter the day before, Blaine had been replaying that melody of “I’ll see you at auditions.” It was getting him through his first week of school.

Friday’s auditions couldn’t come soon enough. Though, in reality, Blaine needed all the time he could get rehearing his audition song. The Lion’s Den karaoke nights these last two weeks had kept his vocals strong but Blaine wanted everything to sound perfect. He had more than just the judges to impress.

He quickly looked over his shoulder and noticed a girl sitting across from that blue-eyed man.

“Come on,” she was saying, “that’s not the Kurt Hummel I know!”

That’s how he learned his name. It was fitting. Sounded like a name that could very well be up in lights someday. Blaine hoped he was there to see it when it happened.

“Rach, it’s only the second day of classes please contain your crazy for another week at least.”

She huffed dramatically. “Kurt, you need to put yourself out there.”

The girl, Rach went on to talk about how she was auditioning for as many off-Broadway productions as she could this year. After all, “we’re almost graduates”. Kurt had scoffed at that remark, “we have another 2 years.”

It was obvious then Kurt was an upperclassman. A junior. Blaine had to stand out at auditions to even be a blip on his radar. He moved up in line, ordered his coffee, and mentally going through his closet for the perfect outfit. Surely tight pants and a bowtie were enough to get someone’s attention but what combination of patterns and colors would appeal to one Kurt Hummel?

When Blaine turned back around, coffee in hand, Kurt was already gone.

Okay, he thought, he already had some practice getting along with upperclassmen. Tina and Angie seemed to like him. Chad and Dante tolerated him—Blaine was cool because he liked college football. Bryant and Xavier were the toughest to crack. He wasn’t sure they’d ever really like him.

But Kurt went to NYADA. He liked to sing, obviously enjoyed glee club and theater. They had to have tons in common.

The third time Blaine saw Kurt was at auditions. He was sitting as one of the judges in the audience. This time dressed in a green army jacket and a tight black tank top underneath. Kurt had his feet up on the seat in front of him showing off his white Doc Martens.

In his wildest dreams, Blaine might’ve wished for Kurt to remember him, give him a teasing wink before he began to sing. Of course, nothing happened. Kurt barely looked his way at all when he walked onto the stage.

It was during the last few notes of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are”, Blaine found out Kurt Hummel was taken. For a second, Blaine was glad the reason Kurt hadn’t given him a second look was that he was already in a relationship but in the next, he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

The man he had just seen Kurt kiss on the cheek was now talking to him. He was British. And taller than Blaine.

“I’m Adam,” he said, extending a hand, “we’ll let you know by Monday.”

Blaine can’t remember if he shook his hand before nodding and bolting out of the room.

Fuck fuck fuck.

There was no way he could stand to be in that group with Kurt and his lead singer, group founder, and British boyfriend.

That night Blaine had camped out on the living room couch, binge-watching the Star Wars movies knowing he had the day off tomorrow, and eating his heart out Sam found him covered in used tissues and Hershey kiss wrappers, with a half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough in his lap.

“Bad audition?” Sam asked.

He didn’t answer. So naturally, he just sat next to Blaine on the couch.

“At least tell me you’re watching them in order.”

Blaine shook his head.

“Fuck dude, it’s worst than I thought if you don’t care about the order!”

Sam reached over his roommate to grab the remote control and paused the movie. Even though both boys had seen them over and over again, they insisted on pausing it for conversation.

“Talk to me,” Sam said.

When Blaine couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth, Sam pulled his roommate to his side in a half hug, half cuddle. That’s all it takes for Blaine to start crying, murmuring about his perfect guy being taken.

“I made it all up in my head, Sam,” Blaine whined.

All that’s heard from their apartment is sobbing and gentle condolences from Sam, who is still confused as to why he’s consoling Blaine at all.

He may have only known about Kurt’s existence for four days but Blaine had been dreaming about him for years. Blaine Anderson had their whole life planned after their first interaction. His middle name was “too much, too soon.” When the Andersons wanted something, they just knew. The depths of his soul knew Kurt was his perfect man.

The fourth time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel was at the club. That Saturday in September after auditions Sam pulled Blaine out of bed to meet up with their friends.

“You’re friends,” Blaine had said, head buried under a pillow.

“OUR friends,” Sam corrected. “Tina loves hanging out with you.”

Sam took the pillow off his face and forced Blaine to sit up by pulling on his arms.

“Because she’s got a crush,” he sighed.

“She knows you’re gay.”

“Gay and depressed,” Blaine told him before pulling the pillow back over his face.

Sam ripped the pillow off and tossed it onto the floor this time and sat Blaine up again.

“Let’s go, you gotta get out of this room. It’s been forever since you’ve seen the world!”

“I was at school yesterday.”

Sam ignored him. “I picked your outfit.”

He held up his choice. The mismatched patterns are enough to get Blaine up and out of bed.

Thank god Sam only wanted to model clothes and someone else would be choosing them.

The rest of the night had been going fine until Blaine caught sight of Kurt. At first, he was captivated by him. Did Kurt Hummel always look like he stepped out of a painting? For a second, Blaine could forget that he wasn’t allowed to want him.

Then, Blaine caught sight of who Kurt was pulling behind him. It all came back full force like someone slapping him across the face.

They were laughing together, probably drunk off each other. What he wouldn’t give to know what he was like to have a man like Kurt look at him like he was currently staring at Adam.

All his earlier feelings, everything Sam hoped he’d drink away, came flowing back. Blaine downed his vodka coke, paid his tab, and asked the bartender to call him a cab.

That was that.

Blaine walked home alone, texting Sam when he got back to their apartment so his roommate wouldn’t worry too much. Then, he locked himself in the bathroom and sunk to the floor.

If this was a movie, Blaine knows there would be heartbreak music playing as a camera zoomed in on his breakdown. It’s not Kurt’s fault that Blaine can’t help but picture a happy ending with every crush he has. They just had so much potential to be a great love story.

Now it was clear that was a story never to be written. If Kurt doesn’t want to be with Blaine then he’s just not the one.

#klaine #klaine fanfic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #not the one #my fics

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pinencurls · 4 years

Text

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - -

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert.

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him. . . . . .

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni.

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme.

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room.

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.”

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun.

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party.

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates.

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend.

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.”

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders.

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests.

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask.

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note.

“Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours.

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door.

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever.

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced.

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am.

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table.

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?”

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..”

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?”

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair.

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case.

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid.

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them.

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?”

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar.

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host.

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.”

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time?

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?”

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night.

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar.

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls.

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold.

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet.

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.”

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?”

“No Elle, of course I don’t-”

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet.

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.”

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?”

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee.

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . .

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.”

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.)

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.”

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself.

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?”

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table.

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.”

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-”

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.”

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?”

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room.

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?”

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode.

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus.

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides.

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head.

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended.

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both.

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick.

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following.

“Harry?”

“Ellie?”

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes.

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick.

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing.

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing.

“Oh- H, Sorry!”

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage.

“I’m so sorry Harry I-”

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!”

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little.

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different.

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me.

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back.

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . .

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.”

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily.

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy.

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry.

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into.

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter.

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night - incidentally beside Harry - I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock.

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him.

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies.

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again.

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?”

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.”

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile.

“What’s wrong?”

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts.

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.”

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up.

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one.

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.”

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?”

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket.

“I know exactly what you mean, H.”

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm.

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again.

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides.

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit.

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago.

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore.

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant.

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser.

“Then stay.”

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.”

. . . . .

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway.

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end.

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face.

“And you’re almost six foot!”

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.”

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough.

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.”

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again.

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks.

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry.

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again.

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm.

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine.

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side.

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before?

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa.

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen.

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.”

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention.

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.”

. . . . .

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all.

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already.

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all.

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden doors of Blondies.

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner.

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?”

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him.

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh god no,” I hurry, ��You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.”

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say.

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.”

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften.

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure.

“How do you mean?”

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-”

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.”

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry.

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all rather unsuccessfully.

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?”

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?”

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’”

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing.

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’”

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much.

. . . . .

Unknown Number

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago.

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone.

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up.

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.”

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all.

. . . . .

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!”

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?”

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?”

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends.

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years.

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?”

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.”

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us.

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.”

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech.

. . . . .

The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.”

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me.

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.”

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.”

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood.

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.”

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens.

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats.

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition.

. . . . .

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..”

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.”

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?”

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?”

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me.

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection.

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter.

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits.

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed.

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.”

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips.

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little,

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.”

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed.

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?”

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.”

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open.

“That’s the plan, love.”

. . . . .

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed.

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this.

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me.

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble:

“Breakfast?”

. . . . .

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed.

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes.

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner.

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares.

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!”

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him.

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.”

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands.

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What’ve got yeh bag for?”

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on.

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-”

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.”

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space.

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-”

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.”

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm.

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start.

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road.

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums.

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.”

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road.

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.”

. . . . .

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented.

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?”

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?” She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.”

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.”

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed.

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.”

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth.

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said.

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine.

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine.

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction.

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes.

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him.

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me.

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing.

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo.

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend.

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.”

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact.

Meet me at mine x

Harry

Okay - what was that about?

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?”

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.”

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec” before the line goes dead.

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly.

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me.

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.”

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?”

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.”

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me.

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.”

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?��

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange.

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a time I thought I could lose him.

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair.

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket.

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.”

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly.

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?”

“Eleanor would have a field day.”

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again.

“Oh yeah?” He teases.

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.”

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him.

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.”

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh…”

“Really..she’d be right about that?”

“I’m pretty sure-”

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep.

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.”

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder.

“I like you too H….just a little bit.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear.

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession.

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs.

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.”

. . . . .

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!”

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand.

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun.

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north.

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him.

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer.

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest.

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group.

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him.

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy.

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear.

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction.

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!”

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going.

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips.

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done.

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?”

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven.

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces.

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.”

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object.

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven.

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand.

“Yes dear?”

“What was that?”

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-”

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?”

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.”

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin.

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?”

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little.

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter.

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second.

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?”

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”#dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes?#friends to lovers

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

All Kinds Of New Friends

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 4,700

Rating: Teen and Up

TW: contains mentions of sexual assault

Cross-posted to AO3

Synopsis: The gang has a run in with a couple of unscrupulous characters from Inej's past, and Kaz says a few things in the middle of a rage he wasn't supposed to say yet.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to AO3 user puppy cat, who was such a supportive, lovely fan from the very first chapter of "My Dearest Inej" all the way to the end. They requested a fic based around a particular idea involving the gang at a restaurant and someone harassing Inej and Kaz losing his shit in a very specific way (being intentionally vague here to avoid too many spoilers lol). If you like this au, there's more of it in my recent fic "Samples". :)

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Nothing brought Kaz Brekker life quite like being paid to argue. And he was good at it, which was why he could charge these student athletes afraid of losing their scholarships two hundred bucks an essay without even flinching. If a more delightful way to make money existed, he had not found it yet.

He was spending his Saturday the way he usually spent Saturdays: rounding out a conclusion to a paper arguing for the death penalty, for a pre-law class he’d never take and a trust-fund upperclassman he’d hopefully never meet. In a few hours, he could drop the doc in a secure server and wait for the Venmo alert that he’d been paid. Nothing was sweeter.

Well. One thing was sweeter.

Inej was in the beat-up old recliner beside him in his and Jesper’s little living room of their third-floor off-campus apartment. This was the best way to spend a Saturday. She was sitting cross-legged and practically drowning in oversized sweats, her raven-black hair piled on top of her head while she hunched over her MacBook. And she was wearing those thick-rimmed, blue-blocker glasses Matthias Helvar had convinced her she needed (which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he was being paid to promote them on his stupid Instagram, that douchebag). Kaz had cringed both internally and externally when she’d told him she’d bought a pair, but now he was seeing the merit, because, dear God, was she adorable in glasses. They were awakening strange and powerful urges every time he glanced over at her. If she held them in between her teeth while undoing her hair, he was going to have to leave the room.

Because the terrible reality was that Inej had had a rough go of it her freshman year at Ketterdam University. And even though they were sort of together now (Kaz was pretty sure they were?), the last thing Inej needed right now was to be over-sexualized – for anything. Including those really fucking cute glasses.

“I’m starving,” Jesper declared from his prone position on the floor. He had been propped up on a bunch of faded pillows between them, engrossed in shooting undead things on their Xbox. His boyfriend Wylan had spent most of the afternoon napping against his shoulder, but was now blinking awake like a blue-eyed baby owl at Jesper’s sudden announcement.

“I could eat,” Wylan yawned with a lazy stretch.

“Inej? You?” Jesper reached up to tug on Inej’s sock.

“Hm?” Inej looked up from her laptop like she was emerging from a cave while she gnawed on one of the strings of her sweatshirt. It had been like this since The Incident – Jesper and Nina often took turns making sure she would eat. (Kaz had it covered, but that was all right. The back-up couldn’t hurt.)

“Food? Are you hungry?” Jesper repeated, the unspoken question floating in the air: Have you eaten today?

Inej blinked a few times as she thought, her dark eyes flitting back and forth between Jesper and her laptop screen. Kaz knew this internal war well – the age-old taking care of one’s needs versus the siren-song of wreaking endless revenge.

Inej had come to Ketterdam University on a gymnastics scholarship, but that had fallen by the wayside – ever since The Incident. The night everything changed.

Kaz didn’t know Inej Ghafa all that well before it happened – had taken a few classes with her, studied for an exam with her once. She’d been eternally sunshiney, the kind of girl he knew wouldn’t waste her time on dark things like him.

But then she’d started missing classes.

And then showing up to class visibly drowning beneath the weight of sleeplessness and oversized clothes.

And he didn’t really know her but it had bothered him all the same. It was like watching a star collapsing in on itself.

And that’s when the story of The Incident hit the news cycle. From the moment he read the first headline, Kaz couldn’t stop scrolling, growing sicker and sicker in the pit of his stomach.

She’d gone to a party at a frat house with a new friend. (Kaz had even been there before, maybe even the night it happened. Frat parties were veritable breeding grounds for potential clients – full of rich, connected kids too drunk or stoned to be bothered by classwork and crooked enough to pay someone else to do it.) It was suspected that someone had slipped something in her drink, and it was known that the friend who’d brought her there had been entirely useless. Inej had woken up the next morning, half-naked on the lawn, crude drawings in Sharpie all over her, and no knowledge of what had transpired that had left her there.

It should have ended there – that was bad enough. But then the frat boys had started posting the videos of what had happened that night. How she had been used. How she had been touched.

If Inej’s parents were going to have their way, someone was going to jail. If Kaz was going to have his way, someone was going to suffer all the way there.

After he’d learned the news, he’d found her the next day before class started, where she was at the back of the room, hunched over her desk with her hood up. She’d shot daggers at him with her eyes when he approached. He’d liked that.

“I’d like to help you ruin them,” he’d told her. Inej’s glare didn’t relent as she sized up him – his black attire, the leather gloves that clenched his gleaming cane. He usually made a point of looking like the sort of person who ruined things. Nobody bullied a boy with a cane if it looked like that same boy could take your head off with said cane.

Inej seemed to agree that he looked like he could fit the bill. And they began to plot – how to expose her abusers, how to alert every girl they ever came into contact with, how to ruin every single party they would ever throw.

And somewhere along the way, it had turned into…something. Kaz wasn’t sure what to call it. But he couldn’t call it nothing – not when Inej regularly stayed the night in their apartment and did soft things like run her hand over his chest if she liked the jacket he was wearing or blush and smile if she caught him looking at her. He’d even really gone out on a limb one night and told her he liked her, and she’d said it back. He wasn’t sure where that left them at this point. Somewhere, he guessed, with something.

“I’ll eat,” Inej was agreeing, albeit with a bit of reluctance to leave her laptop. She was elbows-deep in a catfishing scheme Kaz had concocted for their latest victim.

“Nina wants us to meet up with her and Matthias at The Sweet Shop,” Wylan said, who was catching up on the texts he’d missed while napping on Jesper.

“I swear, Nina could lure a polar bear into the jungle,” Jesper sighed next to him, because it was a little miraculous to think Matthias Helvar, fitspo Instagram model and purveyor of all things organic and natural, had somehow been corralled into a bakery cafe. Kaz was surprised that Matthias even looked at carbs, let alone consumed them.

And, even though he was pressed for time on the illicit essay he was writing, Kaz needed food, too. He and Inej both could use the time away from their questionable dealings online.

The Sweet Shop was within walking distance, but it had begun to rain, cold and foggy, over Ketterdam. So, the four of them piled into Kaz’s beat up black Chevy and rolled into town behind the rhythmic beating of the windshield wipers.

“Over here!” Nina waved to them, beaded bracelets rattling in a stack on her wrist, from the far corner as the bakery’s front door swung closed behind them, tripping a jingling brass bell pinned to the doorframe.

The Sweet Shop was a popular spot for the more bookish crowds to crash on the weekends, load up on starchy foods and coffee while rattling out papers on their laptops or flirting under the guise of study groups. Kaz wouldn’t go so far as to call them his type of people, but he was certainly more at home here than the drunken soirees where he spent his evenings fleecing the debauched children of alumni. Here, there were people crowded over old tables with their books, and well-worn leather sofas and faded overstuffed chairs in the corner lined with secondhand books and used board games that were almost always missing pieces. The air smelled like espresso and cupcakes and old pages, and if Matthias Helvar was going to sulk about the lack of kale on the menu, Kaz might have to punch him in the face.

Matthias was already nursing a colorful smoothie while Nina sat next to him on the old leather sofa, her long, shapely legs draped over his and a stack of sugared waffles on the coffee table in front of her.

“Took you long enough!” Nina was scolding as the four of them weaved through tables to the corner of sofas and chairs. “Do none of you check your phones on weekends?”

“A technology fast is very cleansing for our auras,” Matthias countered, with a sage look – Matthias, the self-proclaimed Instagram influencer. Kaz rolled his eyes.

“That almost sounded like real words, Matthias – good job,” Jesper smirked, as he perched on the arm of the chair where Wylan had flopped down. Matthias opened his mouth to retort something, but --

“I was just distracted, sorry,” Inej intervened with an apology to Nina and a sheepish look. (She thankfully was no longer wearing her blue-blockers or it might have been too sweet even for a place called The Sweet Shop.)

“And I was just ignoring you,” Kaz said with a shrug. Inej gave him an exasperated whack in the arm as he sat next to her on an old loveseat, resting his cane against one side, and Nina let out a put-out huff.

“Wylan’s the only considerate one among you,” she complained.

“Yes, that is true,” Jesper agreed, and Wylan grinned widely with his chin propped up on his fist.

“We wanted you here because,” And Nina drew out the because like she had something grand to follow it, “Matthias landed a sweet sponsorship yesterday, and he wants to buy us all lunch!”

Kaz and Jesper groaned in unison, loud enough it couldn’t quite be drowned out by Inej and Wylan’s congratulations. Matthias got particularly insufferable after new sponsorships – there would be strings attached to this.

“That’s very nice of you, Matthias,” Inej said, pointedly, glaring at Kaz.

“It is very nice of you, Matthias, to offer to buy us all strawberry ice cream smoothies like yours,” Kaz said, with an evil glint in his eye as he nodded to the large pink cup in Matthias’ hand.

Matthias gave an uneasy laugh.

“There’s no ice cream in this,” he said, then paused when he noticed Nina’s tight-lipped, icy stare boring into Kaz’s skull. Then his brow cinched up and looked down at his cup. “There isn’t ice cream in this, right, babe?”

“It’s not going to kill you,” Nina replied with an eye roll.

“Babe! You know I can’t do dairy right now! Tomorrow’s Six-Pack Sunday!”

There was no point in trying to stop it: a laugh in the form of a long snort rolled out of Kaz while Jesper and Wylan dissolved into a fit of giggles. Now Kaz remembered -- this is why they kept Matthias around.

“You don’t understand,” Matthias was trying to say. “It can take a whole week to detox and lose the bloat.”

“I’ll finish it for you, you big baby,” said Nina, and snatched the smoothie away from a panicked Matthias.

“I should start running laps now,” he was fretting.

“Make some food runs for us – that’s a start,” Jesper supplied, looking helpful.

“Good call,” Matthias nodded, and hopped to his feet, nearly dumping Nina onto the floor in the process. “Orders? Orders?” He looked to each of them, ready to leap into action and start fighting off the bloat.

He’d gathered up their orders and made a beeline for the counter when Nina turned to Inej.

“You had me worried, you know.” Nina leaned out a little over her knees toward her roommate. “You were just distracted?”

Kaz glanced in Inej’s direction in time to see how she swallowed hard. She’d stuffed her hands deep in her hoodie pockets. Kaz knew the reaction all too well -- what it was like to withdraw and fight to make yourself untouchable, even to those who loved you.

“Just a lot of work lately,” Inej said. And Nina slid a suspicious glance toward Kaz, as if waiting for him to explain himself and what he was getting the two of them into now.

But it had always been Inej’s decision, how she wanted to handle her own revenge. Kaz was only providing tools. He hadn’t answered for her yet, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nina sighed.

“I just don’t want to see anyone hurt anymore,” she said. The brass bell over the front door jingled again.

“That’s not--”

But Inej stopped short when she glanced toward the sound of the bell. She barely moved, but Kaz could sense her growing rigid next to him. And something about it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He followed her gaze to two boys who were now slouching toward the front counter. Kaz had seen them both before; he was pretty sure he’d written a biology research paper for the one with the pug-nose. They were both tall and conventionally good-looking – the sort you probably didn’t think twice about. Well-muscled, expensive haircuts, brand name sneakers.

Beside him, Inej had started breathing weird.

“Fuck.” Nina had noticed her staring, too, and suddenly all pairs of eyes in the corner were watching the newcomers at the front of The Sweet Shop with murder in their hearts.

Because these two bastards had been there the night of The Incident.

Kaz found himself wondering which one he could make cry first. Probably the bulkier one -- he looked soft and dumb around the edges. His mom probably still did his laundry on the weekends and called his professors when he didn’t get good grades. Kaz wanted to see him cry until snot dribbled down his sweaty face and –

“We should go,” Inej said, abruptly. She was looking pale and shaky, and her eyes darted around as if she needed to gather belongings, even though she’d brought none. Kaz had started to grip the head of his cane, tighter, tighter, tighter.

“Fuck no.” Nina was adamant and fiery, bless her. “We got here first – they can leave.” And then a little louder. “They should be in jail, frankly!”

“Nina!” Inej hissed, and her hand flew to curl against the side of her face when the boys looked their direction. Her eyes were wide and terrified when she looked over to Kaz.

“I want to go,” she told him, and that was all she needed to say. He pushed his weight onto his cane, hoisting himself to his feet.

“Don’t worry, girl – we got you,” Jesper was confirming, and, without even needing to consult each other, he and Wylan and Nina had Inej surrounded from sight on their walk to the door, Kaz at the front.

And it almost worked, too.

“Brekker!” Until one of the boys recognized him and gave him with a jovial grin. Shit. “Hey, it’s Brekker!” The stupid kid with the pug nose gave Kaz a hearty slap on his shoulder, and it took every ounce of restraint in him to not break the dude’s wrist.

“This kid got me an B+ on my bio term paper,” the kid was telling his bulky friend, and then with a shady-ass side smirk, he added: “Wasn’t totally the A I’d paid for, but that was still awesome, bro.”

“With your GPA, an A would have been too suspicious.” Why was Kaz even defending himself to this turd? He made to shove past, to head for the door.

But that kid was still gripping his shoulder. Like he wanted Kaz to remove it from its socket. Like maybe he was just asking for it. Kaz ground his teeth, trying to maintain his resolve. He wasn’t going to do this in front of Inej. He was going to be better than this for her.

“Bro,” the human pile of excrement still touching him was saying, “I’ve been meaning to text you. I have this world religions class this semester that is just killer, and I--”

“Your next words had better be how you’re doing your own damn work from now on.”

A simple “No” would have sufficed, Kaz realized, but his girl was in some kind of state because of this waste of carbon and his patience had never been plentiful to begin with.

Besides, the kid didn’t strike him as the type who understood simple “No”s. He was going to have to make it really fucking clear for this idiot.

Sure enough, the kid blinked hard, like he’d been slapped.

“I paid you, bro,” he said, dumbly.

“Oh, he did not just--” Nina started from the back of their bunch.

“Call me ‘bro’ one more time,” Kaz dared him, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell, man?” said the thoroughly confused bulky friend.

“Kaz, just leave it,” Inej said, softly, and she slipped her fingers into the crook of Kaz’s elbow. “Let’s just go.”

A wave of recognition spread over the pug-nosed douchebag’s face at the sight of her. It was sickening, the surprised rise of his eyebrows, the smug, amused smirk on his lips. Kaz wanted to rip them right off his face.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the dick was saying. “You’re with this bitch--”

That’s when Kaz felt something snap. Oh, he was dead now.

“Kaz!” Inej shouted a warning, but it was already too late. With the cane between his two gloved hands, Kaz rammed his weight into this dead man walking. He threw the kid against the front door, the brass bell jingling as the shades on the window rattled in the scuffle.

“That’s my girlfriend, dipshit,” Kaz snarled.

Kaz was vaguely aware that there was a rising commotion around him, a crescendo of clashing panic and rage. His hand had found its way to the dude’s collar, throttling him; Nina was shouting something at Matthias somewhere behind him; chairs were scuffling about against the floor. But Kaz’s sole focus now was on making this heinous little fucker wet his pants.

“Kaz. The door.” Jesper’s clear-headed voice cut through the blinding wrath, and Kaz was somehow thinking clearly enough to gather his meaning and wrenched the kid away from the front door just long enough for Jesper to shove an arm through and open it.

And Kaz threw the pug-nose brat out into the rain ahead of them. The kid hit the pavement, hard, and scrambled back.

“Dude, you’ve got it all wrong if you think she’s the victim here,” the useless piece of flesh was sniveling. His nose was bleeding – pathetic, Kaz had barely hit him.

“I really think I don’t,” Kaz disagreed, thoughtfully.

“We could have you arrested!” the bulky child was screeching. Kaz turned just in time to see Matthias literally chuck the kid out after them, red-face and snarling. And Kaz had to hand it to him – even with his dairy intolerance, Matthias Helvar could toss frat kids with the best of them.

“Oh, please file a police report about this,” Kaz sneered at them. The wind and the rain were beating back his dark hair and flapping the collar of his black jacket, but he didn’t care. “I would absolutely love to know how you plan on explaining why you called my girlfriend a bitch.”

“Man, it is not my fault your girl can’t handle her liquor.”

CRACK. Kaz barely had time to blink, and Matthias had straight up decked the kid right in his jaw. Nina was rolling up her sleeves, ready to destroy the other one in the pelting rain.

“Hey!” The teenager in a green apron who’d been running the cash register was running out after them, holding a phone over her head. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t clear out!”

And when Kaz looked back at Inej, there were tears welling in her eyes even though her jaw was set firm. From the looks on the faces of the rest of his friends, they’d all noticed, too.

So, it fizzled out before it even really began.

The frat boys had slunk off in the rain, and the six of them regrouped and sauntered back to Kaz’s car in silence. Jesper, Nina, and Matthias piled into the back seat, while Inej and Wylan squeezed into the front. And then an uncomfortable stillness descended.

Inej had pulled her hood up again when Kaz turned the key in the ignition, her arms tight in her sleeves. Every once and awhile, she’d sniffle as quietly as she could as the car ride seemed to drag on – but Kaz knew. Everyone knew. That had been awful. And it still felt awful. Kaz’s head was starting to swirl, his wracked nerves still buzzing. He shouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t wanted to do it, not really. And she’d told him she wanted to leave – she’d said it clear as day. And he’d said…oh God, what had he said? What had he done?

Kaz’s stomach was starting to lurch. He’d said a lot of things. Way too many fucking things. Things they hadn’t discussed yet. Things he’d clearly just assumed. What had he done?

“We really should cleanse this negative energy.” Goddamn Matthias was the first one to break the pervasive silence, and he was choosing to break it with this nonsense. Kaz’s glare drifted to the rear view mirror. “I have some sound healing bowls back at my place that are--”

“I swear to God, Helvar,” Kaz snapped, “if you break out even one sound healing bowl, I will make you wear it like a helmet and then drop kick you into the sun.”

In the rear view mirror, Kaz could see Matthias’ nostrils flaring.

“You are such an unbalanced piece of shit sometimes, you know that--?” But Matthias stopped short because Inej had let out a surprising chuckle. Kaz slowly let himself glance her direction – so did everyone else.

She was smirking up at Kaz.

“I just think it’s thoughtful of you to make sure his head is protected before you launch him into space,” she shrugged. Wylan barked out a laugh.

“I just think they should kiss already,” Nina added, waggling an eyebrow at a brooding Matthias, and then Jesper started to laugh, too, which really was the most infectious of laughs. Even Kaz was smiling after a moment – just a little.

Though that faded entirely when they pulled up to Kaz and Jesper’s apartment and Inej asked to speak with him alone in the car first.

Shit, he thought. Shit. Here it is. He’d royally fucked it up now.

They waited in silence with the rain pouring over the car while the rest of their friends darted into the old Victorian home where Kaz and Jesper lived on the third floor. With each passing second, his stomach sunk lower into his guts. He wasn’t even sure he could form words in his brain, let alone with his mouth. He had no rational explanation for what had come over him back at The Sweet Shop, other than Here it is, Inej, I’m kind of a fucking disaster.

“So, that was…” Inej started, slowly. She was staring out the front window. Kaz felt like crumpling, and he hated it, hated how weak he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, I know…” he muttered. He didn’t really, but he just wanted this to be over. If she never wanted to see him again, he needed her to rip the bandaid off quick.

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?”

Kaz couldn’t decipher her tone, and he couldn’t even look at her. He was just going to stare at the steering wheel until this was over.

But then Inej said: “I just would like to have known before the guys my parents are having investigated, that’s all.”

Kaz looked to her then, lifting his dark eyebrows slightly. She’d let her hair down from its knot before they’d left for the café – she’d braided it loose over her shoulder like he liked. She was twirling the ends now, a tired smile on her pink lips.

“If you want,” he said with a soft shrug. It wasn’t at all like the heroic way he thought she deserved to be swept off her feet. But she was still smiling all the same. It made him feel braver.

Funny – how throwing his weight around against perverts was as easy as breathing, but looking at her like this tore him apart.

“If you’ll have me,” he offered, even softer now.

And Inej reached across the distance between them. Laced her fingers over his, atop his knee.

“I will have you, Kaz Brekker,” she said, tenderly. It took him aback a bit. Made his breath catch. Made his throat sting.

“If I shouldn’t have--” he started to say of the row back at The Sweet Shop. But Inej cut him off instantly, shaking her head. Squeezing his fingers.

“You absolutely should have,” she said, firmly. “And you should show me how, too.”

Kaz really raised his eyebrows at that. Inej smiled a little wider. His heart was lifting, lifting up and out of the certain doom he was sure it was about to face.

“Come on.” Inej tugged at his hand. “We’d better head up before Matthias starts culture appropriating all over your apartment.”

“You have to admit – he threw one hell of a punch, though,” Kaz pointed out, as he opened his door, and then wanted to punch himself for it. What the hell – was he defending Matthias Helvar now? This whole day was upside down.

Thankfully, there was a different kind of embarrassing going down in apartment number three when they finally made their way up. Kaz could hear it before he even made it to the top of the stairs – the loud, thumping bass, the voices shouting at the tops of their lungs.

Oh, their neighbors were going to love this. They were just making all kinds of new friends today.

When Inej opened the door, all four of their friends were dancing to Cardi B’s I Like It, blasting through Jesper’s bluetooth speaker. It took everything in Kaz to not physically recoil at the assault on his senses.

“Emergency dance party!” Jesper explained, yelling from behind Wylan.

“We’re clearing out the negative energy!” Nina shouted over the noise, her hands in the air. Matthias was jumping around behind her like an absolute madman. “But like in an acceptable way!”

“I think it’s working!” Wylan shouted at her in agreement, with Jesper’s hands on his hips.

They were all smiling.

And beside him, Inej burst out laughing – a wild, fluttery sound he’d heard only a few times before. It caught him right in the heart each time he had, and he knew he’d do anything to hear it as often as he could. He looked down at her and wondered, not for the first time, how she did it. How she managed to wring joy out of even the most dismal of circumstances.

It was something he needed more of – as long as she’d allow him to have it.

“Come on!” she was shouting to him as she took him by the hand. “You heard the man! Emergency dance party!”

And Kaz followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

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

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

#kanej #kanej fanfic #kanej fluff #six of crows #modern au #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #nina zenik #college au #reader requested

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 4 years

Text

Home | Doctor Who

Pairing: 13!Doctor x Daughter!Reader

Summary: after years of tracking down the Doctor you finally find him... or her...

Word Count: 1473

Warning: none?

A/N: okay so this idea has been stuck in my head for months and I finally managed to write it down. there may possibly be more chapters to come...

As always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Masterlist

- - - - -

The blue box.

You’d spent years searching for that beautiful blue box and now here it is. Finally you’ve found it which means you’ve found him.

So why aren’t you walking over and knocking on the door?

Instead you find yourself stood on the other side of the road, staring at the box not knowing what to do. During the years of tracking it down you always thought that when you found it, when you found him, you’d know exactly what to say but now you're here the words are gone. What if he doesn’t want to see you again?

Then the door opens and before you even know what you're doing suddenly you're running. Your feet carry you across the road towards the blue box as you shout to the man.

“Dad!”

He doesn’t respond. He probably didn’t hear you over the hustle and bustle of the busy Sheffield street.

“Dad!” You repeat as you crash into him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I found you!”

“You what love?” Is all he can say, his cockney voice thick with confusion. You pull away and look him in the face.

“You’ve changed. But then again so have I. I cant believe I finally found you”

He stares back at you blankly.

“I’m sorry do I know you”

You're about to reply when two more people step out of the box. A boy and a girl, both in their early twenties.

“She said she’ll be out in a minute she’s just got to- Who’s this?” The girl stops speaking when she spots you.

“I’m his daughter” you say, matter of fact.

“What?!” The boy shouts.

“You didn’t tell us you had a daughter, Graham” the girl speaks again

“Graham? You changed your name too?” You ask but he ignores you.

“Thats cause I don’t. I haven’t got kids.”

“Course you do. Don't you remember, on the planet Messaline you created me. I was made from your DNA.” You explain but he continue looking blankly at you “You're my dad! How can you not remember this?!”

“You know anything about this Doc?” He asks, turning your attention to the blonde woman who just stepped out the TARDIS.

Your eyes meet and you stare at her for a moment. You’ve never seen her before but somehow you feel like you know her.

“Doc? As in Doctor… you're the Doctor?” You almost whisper.

“That’s me, and who are you?” She replies cheerfully.

“But you're a woman. How…?”

“I recently had an upgrade.” She smiles, taking a small device out of her coat pocket and scanning it over you. She studies it.

“I didn’t know we could do that. I mean, I didn’t know we could even change bodies until the second time I died. Woke up as someone else, that was a shock. But we can change gender too? That’s cool”

“Two heart beats. Same genetic code as me but not a Time Lord? How can that-” she stops talking and looks up at you “…Jenny?”

“Well actually it’s Y/N now. New face, new name. But yeah, it’s me.” You take a breath and smile. “Hi Dad”

She looks at you, completely dumbstruck.

“Or is it Mom now? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a mother… Can I call you mom? Or is that a bit weird?” You ramble nervously.

“Just give me a minute” The Doctor says before hurrying back into the blue box, shutting the door behind her.

You look awkwardly at the three strangers.

“I’m sure she won’t be long” Graham says, giving you a reassuring smile. You all stand in silence for a few moments but she doesn’t come back out.

“This was a mistake” you say as you turn and run away.

“Y/N!” “Wait!” “Come back!” The guys call after you but you don't stop running till you're out of sight.

— — — —

Sitting on a bench in the middle of a quiet park you find yourself reliving your memories of the day you were created back on Messaline. You remember how it felt to suddenly be alive and straight away handed a gun. You remember how at first The Doctor had been cold towards you but eventually embraced you and taught you that you didn’t have to be the soldier you were created to be. You remember how caring Donna had been, how she looked out for you and gave you the name ‘Jenny’. When you imagined what a mother would be like, you thought of Donna.

“Room for a little one?” A voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn to see The Doctor stood watching you. You nod and she takes a seat next to you on the bench.

“Why did you run off?”

“Well you weren’t exactly happy to see me so I figured-”

“It’s just a shock that’s all. You died remember.” Her face goes serious as she looks out across the park “I held you in my arms and watched you die. When I left that planet you were dead.”

“And now I’m alive. I don't know how it happened I just, I woke up. I was given a second chance at life and I didn’t want to waste it on that planet so I stole an escape shuttle and I went off on my own adventures. Got lonely after a while though, travelling on my own, so I decided to find you. I tried to write to you but I guess you never got my letters.”

She looks at you with a mix of amazement and regret in her eyes.

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. You are hard to keep track of-”

“Always have found it hard to keep still for long”

“Yeah I got that. But wherever you go you leave a piece of yourself. All the planets you save and the lives you touch tell a story. But the planet with the most stories, was this one.”

“Humans have a special place in my heart” she smiles

“Yeah I don't know why, they live such dull lives. I’ve been here for a year now living like them, it’s so boring!” You complain and she smirks “anyway, I found a group online that share their stories and sightings of you and they said your TARDIS has been spotted here in Sheffield a lot lately, so I moved here and I’ve been waiting ever since. I couldn’t believe my eyes today when I saw that blue box just sitting there. I almost walked the other way I was so nervous”

“Nervous? Why?”

“I don't know, I just… it’s been so long since Messaline and I’ve changed so much since then… I was scared you’d turn me away…” your voice fades and you sit in silence for a few moments.

“I’m sorry” she finally says “I want to say something reassuring but I’m quite socially awkward, not good at all the serious stuff.”

“That’s okay, I get it-”

“No it’s not. I want to be able to tell you that I’m glad you found me and I’m so so happy you're alive and that I’m so thrilled I’ve got my daughter back…”

“Well… you just did” you smile and she realises what she just said. She grins back at you.

“So. Will you come back to the TARDIS with me? I’ll properly introduce you to the fam”

“The fam?”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I call them. Graham, Ryan and Yaz. And now you. We can go on adventures together”

“I’d love that” you smile as happy tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

— — ——

When you reach the TARDIS, the Doctor opens up the door and gestures for you to step inside. You walk in and immediately your breath is taken away by the view.

“It’s… amazing! It’s beautiful! It’s so much nicer than the escape shuttle I was travelling in”

“Y/N, this is Ryan, Yaz and Graham. Fam, this is Y/N. My daughter.” The Doctor puts her arm around your shoulder as she introduces you.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Sorry I called you dad” you direct the last part to Graham who just laughs

“It’s alright love, I’ve been called much worse” he responds cheerfully.

“So, where do we want to go then? Y/N, any suggestions?” The Doc asks and you shrug.

“Anywhere. Surprise me! Just make it… not boring” You say and she nods.

“I know just the place” she says, pressing various buttons and switches on the control panel. “Wanna do the honours?”

She beckons you over to her and places your hand on a large lever. She puts her hand on top of yours and together you pull it down toward you, sending the TARDIS into action. She turns and smiles at you.

“Welcome home”

Part Two

#doctor who #doctor x reader #13!doctor x reader #thirteen x reader #Whittaker!doctor x reader #Jodie whittaker #doctor x daughter!reader #doctor who fic #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader

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prettyboyreid · 4 years

Text

can you read to me? (I)

part two

Even after a silly fight, the reader can’t seem to go to sleep without Matthew next to her.

College!Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Warnings: language, angst

Word Count: 2,884

It had been four hours. Four, gruesome, long, tiring hours since you first opened the Statistics book to study for your final. While you were almost sure you were going to pass, an anxious feeling still overwhelmed you that you weren’t going to. It made you feel sick.

You picked up your phone and checked the time. 1:54 AM. You let out a soft groan, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands before deciding to pack everything up for the night. You closed all of your books, bookmarked your notes on Google Docs, and made sure all of your pens were closed before pushing yourself out of the uncomfortable chair New York University provided for each dorm. You made your way to the bed covered in a heavy duvet and a weighted blanket before trying to let yourself fall asleep.

You closed your eyes, you cuddled up to one of your pillows, and even tried counting backwards from one hundred.

Yet you were still wide awake.

You checked the time again out of frustration as you felt your mind running a mile a minute, letting out a huff as the neon red letters of your alarm clock read 2:28. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as a thought - a terrible one at that - ran through your mind, grabbing your phone and slipping on a pair of socks before scurrying out of the quiet dorm.

The dorm halls seemed to stretch out much longer than you’d like, feeling like you were walking down a highway for hours. You could’ve been convinced easily you walked the entire length of the campus.

But eventually, you reached a room on the other end of the hall. A banal door with nothing but the numbers 628 printed on them. It seemed foreign to you, like you had lost all memory of the dorm since you last stepped into it two weeks ago.

“Jesus Christ, Matthew, I was studying with him! Jack’s top of the class and I needed some help!” you whisper-shouted at him. His roommate, thankfully, went home for the weekend, but you didn’t want to risk any of his neighbors waking up at the ungodly hour of three in the morning.

“It is a big deal whenever he’s practically pulling you into his lap, Y/N,” he said, his hands running back through his messy curls. You could tell he hadn’t showered or styled his hair that day from how messy it was, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of your favorite looks on him.

You huffed in annoyance and folded your arms across your chest, sitting on his bed as you listened to him voice his grievances. “Do you not trust me enough to even study with a friend? How many times do I have to remind you that I love you? Not him, not anyone else, only you,” you preached to him, but given your tone of voice, you could see on his face that he didn’t believe you. He probably thought you saying it sounded more like a chore than a feeling.

“Besides, you didn’t see me getting all pissed off when you hung out with Lydia at that party last week. She was practically hanging off of you, and I never said a thing,” you reminded him, which just earned you an eye roll from the tall boy as he leaned against his desk, his palm pressed into the cheap wood.

“That was different. She was drunk and I didn’t want her to fall over or have some guy she doesn’t know take her home,” he defended himself, watching his carotid pulse in his forehead as he tried to keep his voice down. You scoffed at his excuses, raising your eyebrows slightly as if to ask if he had anything else to say.

“She literally ogles you every time you walk past her! She told her friends that she couldn’t wait for you to break up with me so she could have her turn!”

“She was drunk and she’s been my friend since freshman year, Y/N! People say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk,” he groaned, holding his hands behind his neck as he let out a heavy sigh. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he carefully picked out his next sentences word by word.

“This isn’t about me, it’s about that jackass who keeps trying to hit on you when I’m not around,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he paced in front of you. You watched as his bones pressed against his skin out of anger, painting his knuckles white as they gripped onto his upper arms. “How do you think I felt when my friends texted me to tell me you were out with him instead of you telling me?” he asked, his voice dropping from angry to hurt.

“I only didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak! Just like you are right now!” you exclaimed, standing up from your place on the bed. “And I don’t know how you felt, because I’m not you. But I can tell you how I felt when your ‘best friend since freshman year’ was clinging off of you like her life depended on it, and you can tell me how close I am,” you remarked, standing in front of him as if to challenge him. If it weren’t for your significant height difference, you probably wouldn’t feel so inferior at that moment.

He let out a huff and sat back on the bed where you were moments before, letting his hands sink into the firm mattress behind him. His expressions dropped to something unreadable. “So tell me then.”

You let your eyebrows knit together, your arms still folded across your chest as you barely looked down at him. “I felt like she was going to drag you off to some trashy room of the frat house and sleep with you, and you’d forget who I was for fifteen minutes. I felt like you were more interested in her than me, and that I wasn’t enough for you right then,” you spoke honestly, not letting your emotions affect your facial expressions. You couldn’t seem weak, not right now.

You could tell he was holding back on a scoff or an eye roll, but you decided to let it go for now and just let him talk. “You know I’d never sleep with her, Y/N,” he said firmly. You couldn’t even hold back your own eye roll, picking your jacket up from the hook by his door, slightly annoyed that that was the part he had picked to remark on.

“I’d never sleep with Jack, either,” you said, watching him quickly scramble up from his seat the second he realized I was about to leave.

“Wait, wait, wait, Y/N-” he started, but the longer you watched and waited for him to finish whatever thought he had, the more you realized he didn’t have anything to say. He just wanted you to stay.

You wished that you could.

“Matthew, I can’t stay around with you if you can’t trust me the way I trust you,” you told him. You made your way to the door, opening it before leaving and slamming it behind you.

For a split second, you saw his face. His beautiful, pained face, tears pooling in his bright hazel eyes.

And it broke your heart.

You knocked softly in a pattern Matthew had taught you, Morse code for “EAP.” He wanted to have a secret code for just the two of you so he knew whether or not to answer the door, so he settled on the abbreviation for one of his favorite authors in the world - Edgar Allan Poe.

You could see the light from his room seeping beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, and you hoped it was him and not his roommate. After a few minutes of silence, you knocked in the distinct pattern again, running a hand back through your slightly knotted hair as you waited patiently.

You heard the soft pitter-patter of large socked feet of the hardwood flooring coming from the room, and then the unlocking of the heavy locks that were newly installed in the dorms last year. You let out a soft sigh as the door opened for you, taking in the sight you’ve missed for two weeks - for fourteen days, three hundred thirty six hours.

Matthew didn’t look great. Far from it, if you were being honest with yourself. You wanted to believe it was because of the stress of finals, but you knew that it probably wasn’t true. His eyes that were normally accompanied by dark circles were worse than normal, the beautiful brown color you loved glazed over and dull. His hair was messy and unkempt, and despite being over six feet tall, he seemed shrunken into himself, smaller than someone of his stature would be. You highly doubted that he had gotten much sleep, knowing how hard and personal he usually took these matters.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he asked. He didn’t scold you for knocking on his door in the middle of the night. He didn’t spit at you and tell you to leave him alone or go fuck yourself and the smart kid one floor up. He wanted to make sure you were alright.

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest that you hadn’t felt since you slammed this same boring door in his face.

“I… I, uh, can’t sleep,” you mustered out, your words slightly slurred from the lack of sleep you’d gotten the past few days. You wound the hem of your loose t-shirt around your fingers, waiting for some sort of response from him before he opened his door just a bit more to allow you in.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, closing the door behind you once you were inside. You couldn’t help but notice his roommate’s side was cleared out, so it was just the two of you in the cold, surprisingly clean room. You let out a soft sigh of relief, grateful that he had packed up and left sometime before now. Selfishly, you just wanted him all to yourself right now.

“Can you read to me?” you asked in a hushed voice, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Matthew had the best reading voice. You assumed it was from all of his years in theater, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had practiced elaborating on voices in his spare time. Every time you spent the night in his room or he spent the night in yours, he would tell you a story to help you fall asleep. Most of the time, he made the stories up on the fly, and they could be so ridiculous that you laughed too much to get any sleep. But your favorite times were when he recited Edgar Allan Poe stories to you. He tried to make them sound spooky and scary, but his voice was so soothing that it lulled you to sleep every single time.

“I know it’s probably weird to ask that of you right now, and it might be really awkward too. I can just head back-”

He cut me off with a silent nod, getting into his bed and turning off the lamp before patting the space beside him.

You were hesitant at first, despite it being the entire reason you came down here, before crawling in next to him. His arms immediately went around you, his touch being as light as a feather since he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. When you rested your head on his chest and held him tightly, he let his grip tighten around you in a more protective manner.

“What do you wanna hear, angel?” he asked softly, his voice faltering at the nickname like he had just swore in front of his parents.

The last thing he wanted to do was make you uneasy, and despite you coming to his room in the middle of the night and cuddling up to him like you were about to lose him at sea, he didn’t want to do anything to make you leave.

He couldn’t let himself make that mistake again.

“Can you read me Annabel Lee?” you asked quietly, barely above a whisper. He leaned his head back against the bed frame, letting out a soft sigh as he nodded. You heard him take a quiet, deep breath before he slowly began.

“It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me…”

His voice was slow and steady, dramatizing each word when necessary while keeping the same pace and tone. His voice was melodic, and had almost put you to sleep as you listened. You relished in the trace-like state his voice drew you to, your grip instinctively tightening around him to keep him close.

“I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

“And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.”

You looked up at him carefully, trying not to disturb him as best as possible so he didn’t lose his place. Despite him having the story memorized by heart, he seemed to frequently get distracted too easily. You noticed that he was focused on something in the corner, and you couldn’t quite tell what it was. You let your head fall back to his chest, your hand resting just beneath the hem of his gray t-shirt as he continued.

“The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

“But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;”

Your gaze finally adjusted to the dark room as you found what he was looking at finally; it was a framed picture of the two of you, one you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. You were kissing his cheek and he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, similar to how you were right now, wearing a smile brighter than any star you’ve ever seen. Someone else had taken it, on the steps of the main NYU building. It looked like your last day of junior year, before you spent the summer with him in Vegas.

That was, without a doubt, one of the best times of your life.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

You felt your heart shatter all over again as you heard his voice begin to break at the final stanza, feeling one single drop fall onto your hand that rested high on his chest.

You both pretended that you didn’t notice it.

You let your eyes flutter shut, replaying the sound of his voice in your head over and over again as it lulled you to sleep.

As you felt yourself finally overcome with relaxation and drowsiness, you let your eyes squeeze shut tightly as he pulled the blankets over you, making sure you had just enough to be comfortable but not too many to be hot.

You couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of your heart swelling in your chest at how much he cared to make you comfortable. You felt his soft, plump lips press to your head moments before your well-deserved rest overcame you, hearing one last thing from the voice so soft and sweet that lulled you to sleep countless times before.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, sniffling as quietly as possible to do his best not to wake you. You wanted to say something to him, but you could barely even keep your eyes open. Just before you felt yourself slip into the abyss of slumber, you heard him whisper something - mostly for himself, but you knew exactly who it was meant for.

“Please don’t leave me.”

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 3 years

Note

Tell us about your bottled up OC lore

Everything below the cut. I’m serious when I say it’s long.

Loki x Sigyn (Logyn)

Incredibles AU: Sigyn is a superhero and Loki is her sworn arch nemesis. They’re flirted, fought, and occasionally teamed up to take on bigger threats. But, when an act passes forcing all superheroes to go into hiding, Loki finds it’s not fun being a villian without a hero. He finds Sigyn and the pair of them eventually fall in love, get married, and settle down with a couple of kids. But even if Loki can’t deny the happiness his new life brings him, are part of him longs for the adventure and excitement of yesteryear. He’s given an opportunity when a package arrives asking him for his “unique insight” on an upcoming project. How can he resist?

Look, I just want an opportunity to write them both as parents and also have some awkward PTA meetings between him and Sigyn’s fellow hero co-workers.

Just a big ol’ Hunger Games AU that I literally forgot about until just now: Start of the revolution against President Doom lead by survivors of the Hunger Games with Steve Rogers and their new symbol. It’s just two random kids in this universe not one boy one girl.

Tony Stark: Stark is a favorite of the capitol and builds a lot of their tech. He was taken into the games at 15. During the games he was blasted with some shrapnel and had to hide out in a cave. There he met Yinsen and he took pity on Tony. He helped Tony build a makeshift arch reactor to survive the games. Yinsen was killed and Tony survived by inventing weapons and blasting his way out.

Bruce Banner: Bruce is more of a hermit to the public eye, but still close friends with Tony. He was forced into the games at 13. Starting out as a rather timid and quiet boy he spent most of the game simply trying to stay out of everyone’s way, hiding in caves, trees and so on. It came down to the last handful of kids and none of them were particularly motivated to kill the others since all of them had done what Bruce had done and hid. To spice things up the game masters sprayed aggression toxin into the air. All the kids were susceptible to it, but Bruce was the worst. He ended up killing all the kids himself with his bare hands. Although the toxins did wear off Bruce still fears that anger inside of himself. He suffers from PTSD and when he is angry he does become violent.

Thor Odinson: Thor is another one of the capitols darlings. He and Loki entered the games together during an anniversary game in which if one was chosen and had a sibling that sibling must enter the game as well if they are at age. If by the end of the game both siblings are left standing, they can both live. He was 16 at the time. Thor relied on his strength with his preferred weapon being a large hammer. He was also one to form alliances with other members while Loki remained wary. In the end there was Thor, Loki, and two other members of their alliance. Thor wanted to be fair and give the two other survivors a chance. Loki took the opportunity to poison the water they stole from him and Thor in the night. Thor was at first disgusted with what his brother did, but over the years accepted that Loki did it to save both of them.

Loki Odinson: Along with Thor he is a capitol favorite. While Thor plays up the honorable warrior persona, Loki relies on the charming scoundrel. He entered the games with his brother at 15. Loki relied heavily on his wits and traps to survive. Once the alliance was broken he knew the other team would not kill him and Thor in their sleep, but they would steal some of their supplies. Loki made sure to leave food and water in the open for them to take, all of it poisoned. He does not regret anything he did in the games since it lead to Thor and his survival. What he hasn’t told Thor, or anyone, was that he knew that if Thor got in his way of living, he would have let Thor die.

Natasha Romanov: Game master for the reunion Hunger Games, Natasha is actually working for the rebellion as a double agent.

Clint Barton: He is one of the less praised winners; he makes less of a secret in his distaste with the capitol. He doesn’t have any family for the capitol to threaten, so he sometimes says things he shouldn’t. Clint entered the games when he was 14. His brother Barney was chosen as well. For most of the games Barney watched after Clint, both of them were skilled archers and shot at opponents from the trees. Towards the end of the game Barney went down to get some food while Clint waited for him. Barney was captured and tortured by some of the other kids to find out where Clint was, but he didn’t spill. That night Clint heard a boom in the sky and he woke up to see that Barney was dead. Clint spent the rest of the games looking for the rest of the kids and killed them all. Clint is more than ready to fight the capitol and shows it enough for people to catch on it, but not enough for the capitol to kill him.

Juliet Holden: Juliet remains out of the public eye if she can avoid it and spends as much time as she can with her family. She was forced into the games at 17 along with a girl named Beth who as 16. They stuck together throughout the games. Juliet used more hand to hand combat and hiding while Beth was more of an inventor. During an attack Juliet got shocked and Beth helped her through it. Juliet got out alright, but she lost a lot of her pain censors meaning she could take a hit longer. Beth took inspiration and made some make shift gloves that could shock opponents to death. Beth was eventually killed leaving Juliet the winner. Juliet still feels survivor’s guilt about Beth since she was the smarter one between the two of them. She hates the capitol with a burning passion, but unlike Clint has a very large family she needs to protect and care for.

Sigyn Odinson: Wife to Loki, their wedding was shown throughout the capitol making Sigyn as much as a capitol darling as Loki. This was planned by both Loki and Thor to keep Sigyn and Jane safe. If they were capitol favorites the capitol would be less likely to hurt either of them. As a result she became one of the few non-winners to be invited to the capitol. She knows how to be charming and play the role of the dutiful wife. Unfortunately with this new found confidence Thor started speaking more freely his dislike of the capitol. President Doom knew he couldn’t hurt Thor or Loki or their wives so he turned to their children. Jane couldn’t have kids so Loki and Sigyn’s children were forced into the games. Both boys died leaving Sigyn devastated. She no longer went to the capitol with Loki and was an adamant planner in taking down the capitol.

Poe Dameron x Lana Solo (Polo)

Modern AU: I wrote a sum up of it here

Bodhi Rook x Sera Darros

YouTuber AU: Linked Here

Coffee Shop/College AU: Linked Here

10 Things I Hate About You AU:

Jyn: Kat

Sera: Bianca

Bodhi: Cameron

Cassian: Patrick

K-2SO: Michael

Baze: Mrs. Perkey

Chirrut: Mr. Morgan

Draven: Dad

Male OC: Joey

Roadtrip AU:

Sera is going off the college and her adopted brother Cassian and his best friend Kay are helping her move across country.

Along the way they spot a woman having trouble with her car and offer her a ride to the nearest gas station to call a tow. The woman reveals herself to be Jyn Erso. She’s going cross country to meet her father who she hadn’t seen since she was about eight. When she calls the tow they say they can’t get if fixed for a few days. Sera then offers for her to join them on the trip since they’re going in the same direction. Jyn agrees and they’re off.

They travel for about a day when the car breaks down and they have to get it fixed. They go to a local mechanic where Bodhi is working. As he fixes the car he and Sera strike up a conversation where she tells them where they’re going. Bodhi says that he’s going to the same school she is, transferring from junior college. Sera then offers that he come with them since she wants to know someone when she gets there and it would be fun. Cassian begrudgingly agrees since the car isn’t at it’s best and having a mechanic on hand would be helpful.

They travel for another couple of days before eventually reaching a small camp sight. They had been driving all day and all need some rest. The nearest motel is miles always so they decide to camp out. Sera pulls what she can out of the car and makes up a camp using her blankets and sheets. They all have a nice night bonding and fall asleep under the stars.

When they wake up the next morning they find that the car has been stolen and the only things they have left are what they took out of the car the night before. Luckily, a couple, Baze and Chirrut, overheard they’re plight and offer them to ride in their RV. Chirrut and Baze are both former priest road tripping across the country to see what they can see.

Hawkeye Pierce x Elizabeth “Doc” O’Neil

Soulmate AU: Linked Here

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deeeelightfuldee · 2 years

Text

What's your favorite drink? hmmm diet coke from mickeys. it’s in a styrofoam cup and it’s literally my faaaaaaaave

How many US states have you visted? 24 i believe.

What is the longest amount of time you've spent on a video game? ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man I’ve spent a lot of time on acnh and sims lol

What color is the last cup you drank from? uhhh, hm its been a hot minute.

What song is stuck in your head right now? meet me at our spot

Do you still have a MySpace? no i never did

When was the last time you saw your father? hmm. I think june of last year

Do you have any siblings? I do. a sister and two brothers.

Have you ever had an aquarium in your house? yes.

What's your favorite sea/under water creature? whales

Have you ever ridden a horse? yup. my sister used to have a horse so I rode all the time.

Do you have any pets? currently two cats.

Who is the one person who knows you the best? uhhhhhh it was always K but we have drifted. Z is learning me well. Mom knows a lot. Em knows me well.

Did you or someone else buy the last pair of shoes you wore? most of my shoes are gifts

Where's the last place you actually traveled a decent distance to? probably my sisters

Are you particular about people's grammar? lol it can drive me nuts unless it’s intentionally poor. then i’m down for it.

Have you ever been to a gay bar? No but close!

What color are your shoe laces? depends on the shoes. right now my docs are black laces but i DESPERATELY want other laces

What bug freaks you out the most? spiders

What's your favorite flavor Pop-Tart? man i miss poptarts. i always liked the weird ones like chocolate fudge, smores, fruit loops... man i miss them.

What's the last game you played? trionomoes

Do you take any medication? only as needed and its all over the counter stuff.

Do you bother with matching your socks? absolutely.

Do you wear any jewlery that has sentimental meaning to it? the jewelry K gave me and the necklace nathan gave me are my most sentimental.

Do/did you watch Christmas specials? oh every year im a huge sucker for that.

Who's your favorite Pokemon? uhhh none. i never bothered to play

What's your favorite cartoon? bobs burgers

Who is/are your favorite cartoon characters? probably Tina lol

Do you use a lot of txt speak? sometimes! like once a week

What's the last emote you used? uhhh either the face with the hearts all around it or the one with the fake glasses and mustache lol

Are you imaginative? i daydream like a mother trucker

What's the last thing you drank? water

Who's profile did you last look at? on what?

What's your favorite movie? i mean the go to is usually sleepless in seattle.

Name one thing most people don't know about you. my right eye waters ALL the time unless i take claritin.

Do you have any artistic talent? yes!

What's something about you that hasn't changed from growing up? i’m obsessed with school, i love to read, i love to draw, i love storms, i love drives, i love games (all still same).

Do you read more books, comics/manga or magazines? books by far.

Have you ever hit a bitch? lol wut. no.

Do you prefer to write in pen, pencil, crayon or marker? pen

Do you know anyone who skates? likeeeeee roller skates? ice skates? skateboard? sure why not.

What was the last movie you watched? uuuuuuuhhhhhh how to lose a guy in 10 days i think

Do you keep your keys in a specific place? yup i always always always hang them up.

Do you lose things often? No. it’s very uncommon for me to lose something

When is the last time you brushed your hair? like a day ago or so. i have to be gentle about that.

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 11

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

A/N: One of the first chapters I wrote.

March 2016:

“I don’t like this,” Victoria muttered, brushing his hair back.

“I know, doll. I’ll be home soon enough, okay?” He was going undercover, staying in a shelter for sex offenders, and she was clinging to him beforehand. Sonny was thankful when Victoria came home with a bag of clothes he was inheriting from Margy’s husband so that he didn’t have to bring anything from this home after. The only thing he refused was taking his ring off, working marriage into his back story. It wouldn’t come off again.

“I know. I just hate knowing where you’ll be. Who you’ll be around.”

“Me too, Tor. I gotta pretend I’m one of them.”

“We’ll go see Bella and Tommy when you’re home. Play with our newest niece.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“I love you, Dom. I’ll miss you.”

“I love you, Tor. I’ll miss you too. Be home as soon as I can, okay? You call Liv if you need anything. Amanda has your number too, in case she needs help with Jessie.”

“I know. Go catch the bad guy, okay?”

He kissed her softly, and she ruffled his hair as he left. Sonny didn’t want to look too much like himself for this. She’d suggested the name Smitty, mostly as a joke when they were watching some movie. It was a week and a half before he could come home. Once they thought they had Loomis, and then realized Richie was involved too, Sonny got to come home and shed the persona before returning to the precinct. Of course, Victoria didn’t know any of this; she just knew Sonny would need support.

In the time he’d been gone, she’d been feeling under the weather, so when he got home, she was sipping ginger tea in a vain attempt to settle her stomach. He dropped the duffel bag when the door was locked, immediately starting to peel off the jacket, then the inherited hoodie, then the jeans that didn’t fit right and drop them on the bag.

“I gotta wash this off,” he said plainly as he went for the shower. It was a habit he’d taken to as he figured out how to separate the days on the job that felt like they stuck with him the most. Sonny would shower, though he usually didn’t feel such an aversion to his clothing, and then talk to her once he felt better. This time, she went to the bathroom after a while, sitting on the toilet seat.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I guess.” The water shut off, and he pulled the curtain back to get a towel. “I didn’t like pretending I had pictures of kids. But it also was weird? I don’t think any of those guys got enough time. But I was also, like, playin’ dominoes with them. Can make you wonder if they’re the same guy as before they did time.”

“I know that’s not easy to think about.”

“It looks like they might have proved me wrong.”

“How?”

“The guy who did it? He’s the one I thought was probably rehabilitated. He also saved me when I got jumped so-”

“You got jumped?”

“Shit, Lieu didn’t tell you?”

“No. Dom, are you okay?”

“A vic’s dad saw me at the precinct. I was new in the place so he thought I was the perp and he and his friends brought bats.” He shifted around, and she could see deep purple bruise across his back. “Richie, one of the guys, saved me.”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, fingers gently brushing over the swelling. “Did you see a doc?”

“It’s just a bruise. Feeling better every day.”

“Liv said you gotta go back in?”

“No. But, I need to hear everything. See this through.”

“I know. Liv said she approved for you to take a few days off when it’s over.”

“She told me. Somebody meddled.”

“Love you,” she sang softly. “You need to take time to recover.”

“I was planning to ask, and I appreciate that you did meddle when you watched Noah. I love you. So much.”

“I’ll get you some clothes while you shave and stuff.”

“Thank you, Tor.” She left him to get ready, laying out a suit and tie and everything else. He came in not long after, and she took advantage of the opportunity to watch him get dressed. Things had been good again for almost a year, and she needed to talk to him, but knew this wasn’t the time. In the worst case of timing, she’d started to feel sick while he was okay. It wasn’t too bad at first, easily written off as PMS, but she’d realized she was late the night before, something that made her wish it had taken him just one more day to come home. She hadn’t taken a test yet, and it didn’t feel like the right time to talk about it. She knew he’d be ecstatic if she were, but they’d decided to drop the subject until summer. The possibility still scared her because all she could consider was that he'd get distant when the first hard case came.

Sonny would get home that night, and they’d have the weekend. The trial would start on Monday, and Dominick planned to go. They had the next two days, and then he’d take two after the trial. There was a box of tests tucked at the bottom of her underwear drawer, and a lazy Saturday felt like the right time to find out. He fell into the bed when he got home,taking just enough time to tell her the attorney was the real perp and the guy who had saved him wasn’t before falling asleep quickly. Since he was home so late, it was easy enough for her to wake up before him, running the shower as she watched the clock.

“How about I join-” she could hear Sonny before she turned and saw him, eyes wide. He took in Victoria settled on a toilet seat with a small white stick clutched in her hands. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” she said, cheeks red as her eyes welled up. “Don’t be mad.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, kneeling in front of her. “I’m not mad. Did you not want me with you?”

“Yeah. I’m scared, Dom.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to process it. What we talked about at Christmas. The fact it’s not June yet, so I shouldn’t be pregnant.”

“We’ll stay in therapy. Unfortunately a verbal agreement doesn’t prevent pregnancy,” a soft smile as he teased her. “But I’ll be here. I swear to you, doll. I know the doin’ is the only thing that can make that real.”

“I was definitely going to tell you if I am. I got a little box to put it in.”

“That’s all that matters to me, okay? We’re two separate people. You’re the one who may be carrying our baby. If you needed to process that first, it’s fair. I really hope you are, though.”

“I think what scares me is that I kind of do too. We always talked about it. But this isn’t when we planned, y’know?”

“I know, doll. But I think the last few years tell us everything ain’t going to go to plan. But we can get through anything,” Sonny whispered, kissing her temple. She looked to her phone, letting out a breath. “Want me to check it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, head on his chest. He reached forward, holding it up.

“How many lines is a baby?”

“Two.” She knew the answer as soon as she heard him sniff and felt his arms tighten around her. Victoria could feel the smile on his face, and she clung to him.

“We made a baby, tesoro.”

“Lemme see,” she murmured, eyes teary. Reverently, she held it, wrapping around his middle.

“Wait, so around six weeks is when my sisters all realized. Tor, are we having a Valentine’s baby?”

“I guess,” she whispered. “They’ll give us the conception window, won’t they?”

“Oh my god, we’ll get to see them soon,” he beamed, dropping his hands to her belly. His wide eyed reverence made her feel butterflies in her stomach, butterflies that started to overshadow the nerves.

“We will. I’ll call a doctor Monday. Maybe they can squeeze me in your off days. Then we can see them before you tell anyone. I know you won’t be able to wait until 12 weeks to tell ma.”

“What made you start realizing?”

“I had all that indigestion. Got fatigued right before you went. Then I’ve been nauseous all the time and peeing a lot. I realized I was late like the night before you got home when I realized how much my boobs hurt. I wanted to know before you got here but then it wrapped up.”

“What are you craving?” he asked, picking her up and gently settling her on the bed. “I’ll get you these ginger candies. Teresa, Bella, and Gina all swear by them for the nausea and indigestion. I couldn’t get Amanda to eat them with Jesse. You’ll need a pregnancy pillow when you get bigger. And not to be gross, but we gotta get chia seeds. Bella learned it helps you not get constipated.”

“Nothing yet. But I love you,” she whispered, pulling him to lay against her side. She wanted to cry, so grateful to see his response. The change she’d imagined was sudden, an immediate withdrawal. Now he was here, after a hard case, not pulling back. Instead, she had a feeling there’d be a basket of ginger candy, bananas, and chia pudding waiting on a pregnancy pillow with a handful of onesies.

“I love you, too,” he grinned before ducking to kiss her unchanged belly. “And I love you, kiddo. Me and your mom can’t wait to meet you.” Victoria’s hand rested in his hair as he laid his head on her side. She was right, and he went to the store after a while, returning hours later with bags. Carefully, he laid everything on the coffee table. He was excited, she could tell, and she wondered if he’d even make it to the appointment before telling his mom.

“So, I know we aren’t tellin’ ma yet, but I did some googling about your boobs to try to figure out what can help. It said the, like, stretchy bras like these so I got a lot. And then these boob ice packs and nipple cream because I didn’t know which part hurts. Prenatals, because duh. Ginger candy since that’s bothering ya now. I got chia seeds for if you get constipated and then Gina ate a banana a day because she got lots of muscle cramps, so I got us more bananas. And then there’s that dip and chips you like flowers in the kitchen.”

Victoria was silent, staring up at him. The doubt that had wormed its way into her head was gone, though she knew it would reappear until experience confirmed she was wrong. But now? She was more secure than she’d ever been. She thought whatever change would be there suddenly, that he’d pull away when he knew and spend too much time in his head. Instead, here was Sonny, just off a case that wasn’t easy for him, putting his focus on the good news. He knew she was afraid, and he was genuinely there for her. She also knew that there was an extent to which this was his way of saying See, doll? I’m not going anywhere. Victoria teared up, and Sonny looked worried, dropping beside her.

“Come here, you absolute sap,” she sniffed. There were the hormones. Really, there was the overwhelming confirmation that he wasn’t going anywhere and they’d get this life together. The sentimentality she often felt when she realized he was just so good and so sweet, even if he thought his job tainted that.

“Ah, you happy crying?”

“Yeah. You’re so perfect, Dom. This is so sweet.”

“You’re carrying our baby, Victoria. This is the least I can do. I’m going to take care of you. I’m so grateful.”

The weekend and trial went by in a blur, but Victoria was able to confirm she was pregnant with bloodwork while he was in court. They were going to an ultrasound that Thursday, and she was glad to know the trial would wrap up in time for Sonny to make it without her needing to reschedule. She was later than she realized once she visited the doctor, and Sonny had excitedly downloaded apps for both of them to track the pregnancy week by week. The first time anyone saw them together, they’d probably guess that she was pregnant, based only on the way he escorted her like she’d break now and instinctively reached for her belly despite the lack of a bump. If it weren’t so endearing, she’d be furious.

“You excited to see them?” he asked, leg bouncing as they sat. “Ain’t a valentine’s baby, but that means we get them two weeks sooner.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, hand going to his knee. “You okay, Dom?”

“I’m so nervous.”

“Me too. But we can see them today.”

“The app says they’re the size of a raspberry. Maybe that’s why you’ve been craving them.”

“We’ll track the weekly comparisons.”

“We’ll tell everybody at dinner tonight. Ma’s gonna flip.”

“And you can tell the squad when you decide. I know you. Four weeks could be unbearable.”

“I just wanna tell everybody. We got a little raspberry.”

“Saturday we get the next fruit.”

“Perfect. I’ll update my chart of what you’ll be craving.” He kept his hand on her back as they went to the ultrasound room, watching the tech like a kid on Christmas. If she didn’t know for a fact that he’d been incredibly supportive of four different women through pregnancy, she’d think he didn’t know how any of this worked. When the nurse started to show them the baby, confirming the heartbeat and measuring to determine if the age was correct, Sonny watched the image with what was officially the goofiest of his grins she’d ever seen.

“Want to hear them?” the tech asked softly. “I think we’ll be able to hear.”

“Please,” Victoria smiled as she held his hand tight. Sonny pressed his lips to the back of her hand as the steady sound filled the room. His eyes were brimmed with happy tears, and she started to cry too when they made eye contact, which made them both let out happy laughs.

“That’s our kid.” The joy in his voice made Victoria wish they’d just gone straight for this a year before.

“It is,” she whispered. Soon enough, they were in their apartment, and Sonny had his cheek pressed to her belly and the print out of the sonogram clutched in his hand.

“I’m gonna tell them a story every night. And if I get caught on a case, I’ll call and tell a really short story.”

“Yeah?” Her hand smoothed through his hair as she watched him. His eyes were closed, and he was desperate to see if he could pick up on the baby’s heartbeat. He knew he was just hearing hers, but maybe if he stayed there long enough…

“Yeah. And I’m gonna be at every sonogram. I can’t wait, Tor.”

“Me either, Dom. I know I’ve been scared, but this week makes me feel better about it. I can’t promise I won’t get panicky sometimes.”

“I know. I’m glad you’re feeling better about it, but I understand if you get freaked. The girls and Rollins? All three of them got really emotional and panicky.”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love both of you. I’m telling Lieu tomorrow. I want to let her know. And be positive I get to be at the twelve week appointment.”

“That’s fine, Dom. I also know you gotta tell somebody.”

“That too,” he admitted.

The next morning found him giddy as he got to the office. On his way, he’d grabbed zeppoli, setting them out and dropping at his desk with his coffee. He’d only seen Fin so far, but it felt impossible not to run up to him, whip out his phone, and start showing off the ultrasound photo. He kept pulling it up just to be sure it was there and real and ready for him to show Olivia. He wasn’t sure he’d have made as much progress as he had without the squad she led. It had helped him feel more stable as he accepted that there were things he needed to work on to be okay again. Olivia was, to him, unknowingly a big part of why he’d gotten his head out of his ass. He went to her open door the minute he saw her sit down.

“Hey Lieu, can I talk to you?” he asked from the doorway. Liv motioned for him to come in and close the door.

“Everything alright, Carisi?”

“I just got something you need to know, ‘cause I’ll have to disappear for a couple hours every once in a while.”

“Oh? Is everything okay?” she asked, leaning back as she looked up at him.

“Yeah. Tor’s nine weeks along as of this past Saturday, so the reason is about the size of a cherry now.”

“Victoria’s pregnant?” she beamed, and Sonny nodded eagerly, fumbling to pull out the ultrasound picture on his phone.

“We found out a week ago. The ultrasound was Thursday. There’s no bump yet, but she’s got just a little bit bigger and I can’t wait until she pops. It’s kind of crazy, I know, but I’m going to be a dad. I was gonna wait until we did the twelve week ultrasound, but y’know, I gotta leave to do that.”

“And you just wanted to tell somebody.”

“That too,” he said, and Olivia wanted to tease him for how boyish he looked with the grin and nervous glances to his lap. “I’m glad I knew before the bar, or I wouldn’t have been able to focus.”

“You two will be phenomenal parents. Congratulations. Unless something comes up, you’re fine to go for doctor’s appointments. How’s she feeling?”

“Pregnant,” he laughed. “But the bakery’s in a good way. She’s stepping back a little more. And between my sisters and Amanda, I remember what stuff helps so I try to help.”

“I gave Bella Noah’s old clothes or I’d offer them.”

“I appreciate that. We’ll inherit enough from everybody though. Plus, I kinda like shopping for onesies and stuff. They’re really cute. And Target got in some real cute outfits...”

“Are you telling everyone else?”

“Not until twelve weeks. But I couldn’t go without telling you, lieu.”

@cycat4077

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x oc #law and order #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #writing

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givelove-always · 4 years

Text

I Love Him Not, I Love Him

A/N: Hi! This is my extremely late entry for @bucky-smiles’ 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge (I’m so sorry for the delay aahhh!)! My prompt was one of my fave songs, Subhanallah from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, so that’s what this fic is loosely based on! Also a big thank you to @parkerpetey for taking the time to edit this and leave hilarious comments throughout the Google doc, ilysm for that. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: The three times you didn’t accept that you were crushing on Peter, and the one time you did.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 7.3k words

Warnings: None, just tooth-rotting fluff and reader being frustrating :)

Something everyone talked about, yet nobody really talked about, was how being the new student in the school, especially given that it was your senior year, was ridiculously tough.

You had recently moved from Toronto to Queens, and you absolutely despised it. You’d spent three extremely long years at your old school creating a name for yourself, be it through your strong academic scores or your commitment to numerous extracurriculars. You weren’t exactly popular, but were definitely spoken of quite highly if you were brought up in conversation, regardless of whether it was teachers talking or your fellow students. You were on the perfect path to becoming valedictorian of your class.

… Until you were uprooted and brought here. Sure, your dad really pulled all the strings he could to help you secure a spot at Midtown, especially given that it was senior year - it’s hard enough as is to secure a spot in freshman year, what with it being insanely competitive and for genius students and all, and while your grades were stellar, it would’ve still been close to impossible securing a spot - and you really appreciated it, but that didn’t mean that you still didn’t miss your school and your friends back in Toronto.

It felt like everyone was talking about you - who was the new girl? how did she manage to get a spot three years after everyone else? was she genuinely smart, or was there some other way she got in? - but at the same time, it felt like you were invisible. People wanted to know more about the circumstances surrounding you than know more about you as a person.

With every day that you went to school and came back home after unsuccessful attempts at restarting your social life and making friends, your morale was deflating. As much as you tried to push it aside, the pang in your chest was becoming more and more undeniable when you constantly saw people surrounded by their friends, laughing and chatting, while you sat to the side all by yourself.

Even then, it was all bearable. Just one year here, and then you could go make friends in university, where life would practically be a clean slate - a fresh start for everyone. Who knows, maybe you could even go back to Canada to a university where some of your old high school friends would be attending. You kept telling yourself that everything would work itself out, and if it had to be after a year of loneliness, then so be it.

The only thing that still felt terrible were the daily walks to and from school all alone. Back in Toronto, you and your best friend would always text each other in the morning to try and coordinate the time that you’d leave so that you could walk together, chatting each other’s ears off the entire way there. If you had time in the morning, you’d often even stop by the Tim Hortons on the way and get yourselves a little breakfast.

Here in Queens, there were tons of cute little cafés and little convenience stores and such on your way to school, and while you would still often stop by to pick up a quick snack or drink (or even just to say a quick hello to Mr. Delmar, the kind man who owned the little sandwich shop around the corner, and pet his adorable little cat), it never was the same as going with a friend. That constant loneliness started to change though when one day, you left home and arrived at Mr. Delmar’s shop earlier than usual.

one

It had been a long night with very minimal sleep. You were up working on a Physics assignment until almost five in the morning and you knew that if you slept then, you wouldn’t wake up in time for your morning classes. The extremely prominent bags under your eyes stood as proof of your exhaustion and you had no energy to make yourself breakfast, hence your early arrival at Delmar’s.

You sat at a little table by the window observing the street outside. Most people look at the way others are dressed outside as an indication of the weather. You, on the other hand, liked to think of it as more of a personification of the weather. If the chilly November weather were to be a person, they would definitely be one of those speedy walkers roaming the streets in some fuzzy boots and a trench coat.

As you sipped on your hot chocolate and tried to assign a more rounded personality to the November weather for no reason other than trying to wake yourself up, the sound of the bells chiming as someone entered the store caught your attention.

Peter Parker.

He was that really smart kid in your Physics class - the one subject you were struggling in. You knew him from that one time you guys were paired up for a quick chemistry lab, but you didn’t know him know him. You remembered vividly and appreciated how nice he was the whole time - it was difficult to find that over the last few months. Either that, or you just somehow managed to keep getting paired up with the wrong people.

You realized you were staring at him when you saw him facing and waving in your direction.

That was unusual, nobody ever really seemed to acknowledge you.

You turned to see if there was someone behind you he might have been trying to talk to, but very quickly realized that you were seated in the corner when your eyes were met with nothing but the plain white wall. ‘Stupid move,’ you told yourself. ‘How do you just forget that you’re sitting next to a wall?’

Grimacing a little, you turned back to face him and waved at him. You gave him a small smile, which he very politely returned before he went up to place his order.

‘Great, you can’t even greet a person normally. What is wrong with you Y/n? This is why people aren’t trying to befriend you right now, if-’

“Hey, do you mind if I sit down here?” a slightly timid voice interrupted. Your eyes locked with Peter’s as your head shot up.

“Oh! Um, yeah- I mean, no! I mean, no, I don’t mind, go ahead!” you stuttered, feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks.

Peter let out the softest giggle you have ever heard as he sat down, and if you didn’t have such sharp hearing, you were sure you would have missed it.

“How are you? How are things going?” he asked as he set his sandwich onto the table.

“Oh, well, they’re going,” you smiled and shrugged. “This point in the semester’s always a little crazy, but it’s not the worst. How are you doing?”

“Yeah, it does get hectic around this time,” Peter sympathized, scrunching his nose slightly in an effort to show mutual distaste over the stress. “I’m not too bad, just really tired from working on that physics assignment. How’d you find that?”

“Oh my gosh, don’t ask,” you groaned, rolling your head before laying it smack against the table. “I literally cannot physics, it took me forever to complete it, and I’m still not confident about a solid chunk of it.”

Peter let out a laugh at your reaction, the sound falling like music onto your ears. You discreetly peeked up from your position on the table to look at his undoubtedly glowing face, and the image you were met with was nothing short of beautiful. His eyes were scrunched up and his perfect teeth were on full display, cheeks turning redder by the second. The sunlight falling on his brown curls gave them a softer hue and made them look even softer than you’d already imagined them to be. Nobody had ever looked this angelic.

It was a sight you wouldn’t mind getting used to.

‘Wait, what? Why did you just think that? Y/n you barely even know the guy, stop being creepy!’

You pulled yourself out of the trance and slowly sat back up, giggling lightly to avoid making it obvious that you had just been staring - that would be awkward to explain.

“I’m sure you did just fine,” Peter chuckled. “And if anything, physics isn’t my worst subject, so um, if you want, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you Peter, I appreciate that more than you realize,” you smiled, picking up your backpack. “I hate to cut this conversation short, but we need to start heading to school soon if we want to get to class on time.”

“It doesn’t have to be cut short!” Peter said abruptly standing up, catching you off-guard a little. “I-I mean, we could walk together if you’d like? No pressure though, it’s totally cool if you don’t-”

“Of course, I’d love that,” you cut him off with a smile.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Let’s head out?”

“Yeah, just hold on one quick second,” he said as he quickly rushed over to the front of the shop.

Eyebrows furrowed, you followed him, only for your expression to instantly morph into one of awe as you were met with Peter petting Murph, Mr. Delmar’s cat, before he jogged back to where you were standing, a goofy smile adorning his face. “I’m ready now.”

Saying a quick goodbye to Mr. Delmar, the two of you made your way out. You shivered a little as the icy wind hit you. Peter picked up on the way you tried to discreetly rub your hands together, your outfit not doing nearly enough to cope with the sudden sharpness of the atmosphere, but stayed quiet, not knowing if it was appropriate to say something or not.

“So you’re a cat person, eh?”

“I’d say so, yeah. I’m just as much of a dog person too, though. Murph trumps all other animals though - I’ve been seeing him since Mr. Delmar got him, and he’s so adorable,” Peter gushed. “What about you, a dog person or a cat person?”

“Oh, a hundred percent a dog person, though I would make an exception for Murph, he is pretty cute,” you chuckled. “My best friend back in Canada has the sweetest little puppy named Maple and I practically lived at her house for the sole purpose of playing with him. Her uncle would drop off his two poodles occasionally too when he was travelling, and there was no way to get me out of her house when all three puppies came together.”

“Maple? That’s the most Canadian thing I’ve ever heard, I love that!” Peter physically had to stop for a minute because he was bent over letting out what could only be described as a ‘hearty laugh’.

If it were anyone else, you would most certainly be offended - what was so funny about having a pet with a stereotypical Canadian name? - but Peter exuded an aura of kindness and innocence, and despite only having spoken to him for such a short period of time, you knew his intentions were nothing but pure. Also, you had to admit, it was a little comedic how stereotypical the name was.

“Anyway, speaking of Canada,” he spoke through light chuckles once he’d calmed down a little and you both continued walking, “I don’t mean to be intrusive, and you definitely don’t have to answer if you’d rather not, but um, how come you transferred here senior year? Was it hard to get in? How did that work?”

“No no don’t worry, you’re not being intrusive at all, I don’t mind! Basically…” you started your not-so-entertaining story of how you ended up at Midtown, and no matter how many times you stopped yourself to apologize for how “boring” you were being, Peter assured you that you were anything but.

The long walk to school couldn’t have been long enough, because you were at your locker way too quick for your liking. And judging by the way Peter stayed with you as you grabbed your stuff and offered to walk you to class, he felt the same way.

You found yourself beginning to set your alarm for just a little while earlier than usual that day onwards, and morning walks together became more common as the month went on. Sure, you adored your sleep, but having a potential chance to run into Peter and walk to school with him again? It was worth it.

Despite having only briefly known him, there was a sense of comfort that you felt in his presence. He made you feel like you could share anything with him. Everytime he smiled, forget full-fledged laughed, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay for you.

To top it all off, it didn’t hurt that he was more than easy on the eyes. Those gorgeous eyes and that cute button-nose, not to mention his beautiful brown curls? You wouldn’t mind signing up for that one bit.

‘Y/n, stop. No. He’s just your friend. He’s just being nice, and you’re just happy you have a friend. You do not see him in that way - there is no chance of anything along those lines happening. You just haven’t had much interaction with people and now you’re playing up a friendship because you have nothing better to do. You do not like him.’

You reminded yourself that every time you caught yourself looking at him for even a moment more than what would be acceptable when you conversed. Peter was a great guy, but you guys were just friends, and you intended on keeping your feelings about him that way.

Besides, the reason you were down to lose some sleep wasn’t just being able to walk into school with Peter. You always had a problem with getting to school just in time to catch the bell, and this gave you an excuse to be more timely.

That’s all it was. A friendship and a way to be more punctual. Not anything more than that.

***** two

“Peter,” you clutched your stomach, loud laughter escaping you, “I’m literally going to pee myself!”

“Y/n, stop entertaining him or he won’t stop making those terrible jokes,” Ned groaned.

Peter had introduced you to his best friends Ned and MJ about three days into your friendship, once you’d gotten the remainder of your paperwork after your transfer completed and could finally sit with the rest of your classmates for lunch, and you’d all instantly clicked.

Here you were, two months later. Colourful lights shining all around you, the sound of squeals and laughter from a multitude of people constantly surrounding you, and a game to play every few steps you took - not to mention the numerous prizes waiting to be won.

Ned has suggested that the four of you go down to the arcade nearby to destress after the exhaustion of your end-of-semester exams, and you all had instantly agreed.

As much fun as you were having playing the different games and winning all those tickets with the people who had grown to be your closest friends, what was absolutely making your day was the way in which Peter would just not stop making hilarious puns and jokes.

“You’re just jealous you’re not as cool or as hot as me,” Peter playfully scoffed and made exaggerated hair-flip movements, grabbing your hand as he dragged a giggling you to the next game. “Come on Y/n, they’ll never know what it’s like to be iconic.”

“Woah Peter, what’s gotten into you today?”

“I’m just happy. I’m a happy boy. A happy boy who’s happy about being at this arcade with his wonderful friends because it’s a happy environment,” he glanced at you over his shoulder as he put in the tokens to play basketball.

You chuckled as you reached out to playfully pull his cheeks. “Well, happy boy, let’s win this thing and win it together. In case you didn’t know, my basketball skills are somewhat impeccable.”

“Y/n, you literally can’t walk five steps without tripping, it’s pretty hard to imagine you being any good at a sport that involves a lot of running,” he sassed.

“Ah, well that right there is the thing - I’m incapable of walking. When it comes to running, I’m a whole other ball game. Basketball game, to be more specific,” you spoke slowly, nodding your head wisely to emphasize your wisdom.

Peter let out a wheeze neither of you had expected, and it sent you both into a fit of laughter. When Ned and MJ made their way over to you a few seconds later, all they saw was the two of you clutching your stomachs, faces red and laughter escaping your throats as though you’d just rewatched another one of those ridiculous ‘5-Minute Crafts’ life hacks.

In the midst of the hysteria, as Peter went to slap his knee, he accidentally slammed the Start button on the game. The ever-so-jolly-yet-ominous-sounding countdown of the machine finally pulling you guys out of your bubble.

“Oh my gosh Peter stand up, it’s starting!” you exclaimed through giggles, smacking his arm repeatedly with the back of your hand to get his attention.

“Oof okay okay, let’s do this thing!” Peter rubbed his palms and cracked his neck, getting in a serious stance and grabbing the first basketball that came through the machine before tossing it straight into the hoop.

“My turn, my turn!” You shoved him with your hip playfully to make room for yourself and get a better angle to shoot.

Ned and MJ, who had been standing close behind and observing this all go down, just looked at each other, heads cocked to the side. Claps and cheers when the other one scored and purposeful bumps into each other every single time you switched, given you guys’ speed and surprising accuracy, were all they could see and hear.

“The two idiots… they really don’t see it, do they?” MJ questioned, looking between the both of you, genuinely puzzled.

Ned groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Dude, I swear I can and will cry right now if they don’t stop playing this ‘you’re just my best friend’ game, I’m so tired of it.”

“Are we gonna say anything to them to make them ‘fess up though?”

“Nah, I kinda wanna watch it play out, as much as it exasperates me,” Ned shrugged.

“Alright Petey boy, you wanna take this jackpot shot or do you want me to?” you looked over at him and asked. “No pressure buddy, but it is an extra five hundred tickets.”

“All yours, m’lady,” he curtly bowed, drawing a laugh from you.

You took your stance, legs slightly spread apart and knees bent just a little, preparing for the big shoot. You grabbed the final basketball, dribbled it on the ground twice, and tossed it, aiming straight for the hoop.

“She shoots,” Peter commentated, watching the ball leave your hands, “and… she scores!”

You let out a squeal and jumped straight into Peter’s arms, giving him the biggest hug you could possibly render. Peter caught you and spun you around, cheering and laughing all the while as the machine spewed out your tickets.

“Okay kids,” MJ called out, pulling you both out of your little moment of euphoria. “Chill for a second and pick up your tickets because I will gladly take them if you don’t want them.”

You chuckled her comment and separated from Peter before quickly walking up to grab the tickets. “Hey, Peter and I worked hard for these, back off,” you playfully pouted, hearing Peter chuckle from beside you.

“Okay okay,” Ned laughed. “MJ and I are done with our tokens, are you guys ready to call it a day and get the prizes too or..?”

“I’m ready to go, Y/n?” Peter asked.

“Yup, I’m done too, let’s go.”

You all made your way over to the corner of the arcade where you could total up your tickets and redeem them for prizes. Despite your constant refusal, Peter not only let you take the entirety of the tickets you both won from the basketball game instead of splitting them, but also gave you all the tickets he’d earned that day so that when combined with yours, you’d be able to get the adorable person-sized teddy bear you were planning on saving up for.

Ned decided to splurge on a number of small prizes, like the classic ginormous plastic sunglasses and little notepads, while MJ got herself a Rubik’s cube and a sticker that said “Caution: Falling Rocks”. Nobody knows why she picked that one in particular - she’d simply shrugged when Peter had asked her about it.

You felt bad that Peter didn’t end up getting anything, but he insisted he was totally cool with it. Something about “not having any more space for obscure things to stuff in my cupboards anyway.”

“Guys, I’m hungry,” you said, bringing the attention to you while you all headed out of the noisy arcade. “Let’s go grab a bite somewhere?”

“Ooh yes, I know this place that’s only like five minutes from here - Ned and I went there like last week. It’s-”

Thud.

Peter never really got to finish that sentence. He was walking backwards, trying to make eye contact with the three of you while relaying his expertise on the restaurants in the area, but the man-child had tripped over his own two feet and landed flat on the ground.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” you all rushed over to him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he assured you guys as he grabbed Ned’s hand and pulled himself up, dusting off his jeans.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you right then. “Hey Pete, what was that you said earlier about me not being able to walk five steps without tripping?”

“Hey, cut me some slack, okay. MJ’s sticker said ‘falling rocks’ and I was just testing the validity of that statement. Now, with experiential evidence, I can confirm that it is, in fact, false.”

You and Ned burst out laughing at what was probably Peter’s only good joke all afternoon. MJ rolled her eyes, but even she couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face.

You all started to head towards the restaurant Peter suggested, Ned leading the way.

“Hey Y/n?” Peter leaned over.

“Yes?”

“Did you lose an electron? Because you’re positively glowing.”

“Oy smarty-pants, make your own puns, don’t steal them from your t-shirt,” you chuckled, shaking your head. You increased your speed and walked up ahead to where Ned was walking to join him and, hopefully, prevent Peter from the bright red that overtook your features from that one little out-of-nowhere compliment.

You and Ned were joking around about the events of the day and how much fun everything was, and as much as you enjoyed Ned’s company, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander a little.

Why did Peter have such an effect on you? How was he able to make you feel so giddy - all he did was give you one punny compliment and you were blushing? How come this never happens with anybody else?

‘It’s because sometimes you just click with some people more than you do with others. Yeah, that’s what this is. That’s all it is. You just click with him slightly more than you do with the others, and so his compliment is just a little bit more meaningful in that sense,’ you rationalized.

That’s definitely all it was. A strong friendship. Not a crush - definitely not a crush.

***** three

It was the end of senior year, and you were finally in Europe for your long-awaited senior trip that the Midtown teachers had organized for your graduating class.

You’d managed to fall sick on the second day of the trip, but despite the absolute nightmare that all the nausea and headaches had been, it had luckily turned out to only be a 24-hour bug, and you’d been up and running, ready to explore the place by the next morning.

Ned and Peter shared a room while you and MJ shared another, and while the four of you would occasionally hang out in each other’s rooms when you weren’t already out and about, Peter had insisted on practically staying in your room when you were sick so he could take care of you.

You’d pushed them all out of the room to go out and have fun, or even just go sit in the other room so they wouldn’t accidentally contract whatever it was you had.

Peter, though, just would not listen - he kept taking MJ’s keycard and coming in to check up on you, making sure you were hydrated and had everything you needed. You’d woken up the morning after to a number of texts from Peter, scattered at different times throughout the night, telling you that he hoped you were feeling better and reminding you that you could call him if you needed anything, no matter how late or early it was.

You’d made it known to him the next time you saw him how much you appreciated him doing that, but also how you wished he’d have slept without worrying about you so much.

He’d only smiled in response.

Once you’d gotten better - which luckily was by the next afternoon - the four of you would spend time in one hotel room all evening. Watching movies together, having popcorn fights, or just talking, laughing and reminiscing about the year that had flown right by you.

During the day, you would all go out and explore whatever city you were in, making sure to cover all the general tourist attractions and getting tons and tons of pictures with and of each other. MJ had become your unspoken designated photographer, capturing breathtaking candids of you all whenever she got the chance.

Mr. Harrington had mandated that anybody who went out to explore or do something that wasn’t on the itinerary report back to the hotel by sunset so he could keep track of everyone, so you would always make it a point to be in your rooms by then.

Most people stayed out anyway, but not the four of you - you didn’t want to worry the poor man. He worked hard all year too, and he was kind enough to supervise this trip - the least you could all do was ensure that you weren’t burdening him with any added stress.

Occasionally, you would end up getting back to the hotel earlier than others in your group. Sometimes, MJ would want to wander by herself, and Ned would try to approach and converse with Betty, who he found really cute.

Times like that, you and Peter would be the only ones in your respective rooms. The very first time that happened, you both very quickly realized that if you were in that situation, boredom would usually follow very soon.

So the next time onwards, even if none of the others were there, you and Peter would just hang out together in one of your rooms. It didn’t really matter what you were doing - just being in each other’s presence made things fun.

It was guaranteed, though, that obscure things would always happen when it was just the two of you left unsupervised. One time, Ned walked into his and Peter’s shared room only to find you and Peter in the midst of a very soulful rendition of A Whole New World from Aladdin - complete with exaggerated dance moves and hairbrush-microphones. Another time, MJ returned from her walk to a nearby park to you and Peter indulged in a heated discussion about whether pop tarts should be considered a sandwich or ravioli.

The four of you would often stay up until odd hours talking about anything and everything. The later it got, the deeper your topics of conversation would get. They would go from sharing nostalgic memories from your childhoods to passionate conversations about how many pets one could get before they’d be considered too many.

One of those days, when you had a one hundred percent free day because the event on your itinerary got cancelled, MJ and Peter decided they wanted to go visit a museum. Ned brought up that he wanted to go shopping around the city instead, and since you were planning the same, the two of you went out together.

You and Ned decided to hop onto one of those red double-decker buses, because if you’re a tourist in London and don’t get on one of those buses even once, are you really a tourist in London? Since neither of you had anything specific you wanted to shop for or any specific place in mind, you decided to take a random bus and get off wherever you felt would be worth it.

After about fifteen minutes of looking around at the hustling streets, you finally passed through an area that seemed to be filled with a variety of stores, making it the perfect place for some obscure shopping.

You both walked around, entering random stores whenever something in the display caught your eyes and buying random articles of clothing. At one point, you found a really cool thrift store and decided to style each other - the results being surprisingly more wonderful than either of you had expected. You both did an impromptu ramp walk for each other, filling the trial rooms with the sounds of laughter and giggles.

As the evening started to set in and the gorgeous colours started to take over the blue sky, you decided that you should start heading back to the hotel soon. It wasn’t too far from where you were though, considering the fact that a quick fifteen-minute ride would get you back, so you two did have time to stop by one or two more stores quickly if you wanted to.

As you strolled around, looking at the displays to see if there was something you might like, a pretty off-white floral sundress caught your attention. “Ned, can we go in here? I want to try this dress on!” you said as you tapped him excitedly on his shoulder.

He agreed, and as soon as you found the dress and tried it on, you absolutely fell in love with it. It was just the right length for your preference, and fit your body just right. In fact, it would even go perfectly with the adorable cross-body bag you’d picked up earlier in the day. You didn’t have to think twice before heading to the cash register to buy it and officially make it yours.

“Today burned a hole in my pockets, but it was so much fun Y/n, thanks for coming with me,” Ned said as you both got seated on the bus.

“Hey, of course! I had so much fun too! It was so refreshing to, thank you for letting me try on eight thousand different things,” you grinned.

The two of you continued conversing and joking around as the bus slowed down at a stop to let passengers on and off.

“Man, as great as museums are, nothing beats the joy one gets from mindlessly shopping - those two definitely missed out on some hilarious jokes and the best fashion show of the century,” you chuckled, making a reference to your antics back at the thrift store.

Ned laughed, shaking his head.

You relaxed in your seats, just letting the feeling of the wind flowing through your hair encompass you. The slight coolness of the evening breeze was euphoric yet also grounding in a sense, and you wanted to let it consume you for as long as possible.

“Y/n, can I ask you a question?” Ned softly broke the silence.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You like him, don’t you?” he smirked.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Like who?”

“Come on, don’t act so oblivious,” Ned laughed. “Peter - you like him, right?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s one of my best friends, so I definitely do like him?” You were genuinely confused at this point.

“No Y/n, I mean like like. Like as in more than a friend,” he clarified.

You froze for a split second and the heat rushed quickly to your face for reasons unknown to you. Almost too quickly, you responded, “What? No! Why would you think that?”

Ned rubbed his face, groaning. “Y/n, why are you both so ridiculously oblivious?” He had no clue how both you and Peter, two people so hopelessly crushing on each other, couldn’t see it.

“Wait, what do you mean?” you questioned.

Ned couldn’t stop the knowing smirk that overtook his features at the quizzical look on your face. He wanted to see two of his best friends happy together, but he needed you both to figure out your feelings for each other because it would be unfair of him and MJ to try and get you both together before that happened.

In this moment though, the utter cluelessness in your eyes was absolutely comedic to him.

“Oh, would you look at that, it’s our stop!” he quickly picked up his bags and walked off the bus, leaving a very perplexed you to follow him.

You pestered him to explain what he meant by that the entire way up to your respective rooms, but he wouldn’t do anything but grin. Your split-second panic and silence, combined with the redness of your cheeks as soon as he’d asked you about Peter was confirmation enough for him. He’d lit the spark, the questioning, inside of you, and that was all he felt was appropriate for now. Now, you needed to let it grow into a full flame and come to terms with your feelings.

“Bye Y/n! I’ll see you in a little bit!” he waved at you as he quickly slipped behind his door.

You groaned, stomping back to your room. You tossed your bags to the side and flopped right onto the bed.

‘Why was Ned asking me that? What did he mean by saying Peter and I are ‘oblivious??’ And why did I panic? Is there a chance that I- No, don’t finish that thought. Y/n, Peter’s just your best friend - feelings involved make things messy. You know what though? You don’t have to worry about that, it’s fine, because you don’t have feelings for him anyway. It’s all good. You’re just best friends, it’s nothing more than that, for sure.’

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, and rationalizing whatever supposed “feelings” you had for Peter until you heard MJ swipe her keycard. In walked both Peter and MJ, and you watched as his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you.

You felt your lips curve upwards into a smile, and before you could even realize that your body was moving, you had both engulfed each other in a massive hug.

That was normal though, right? You would hug MJ right after that too - you always hugged your friends. That didn’t mean anything.

Ned was probably just fooling around. Yeah, that’s probably what it was. One of his extended pranks. That explanation made sense.

Either way, you know what your feelings for Peter are: platonic. Absolutely, positively not anything other than that.

***** one

The day you’d been dreading was finally here: the end of your senior trip.

You were in your hotel room, zipping up your suitcase and making sure you had packed all of your belongings.

“I guess this is it, huh?” you squeaked out.

Hotel rooms had become your home for the last almost two months. They were where you and three of the closest people in your life right now spent so much time together, laughing, crying, just enjoying each other’s presence. Now, you were being made to say goodbye to that, and it was too soon for your liking.

“It is, yeah,” MJ gave you a small smile. “Don’t be upset about it though, we’ll all still be together and go out all the time once we’re back.”

“I know, I just…” you sighed. “I just liked this whole ‘no-other-responsibilities-to-tend-to’ version of going out. Time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

MJ placed the last of her clothes in her suitcase and zipped it up. “Well, at least it was fun while it lasted, right?”

You nodded. It was fun while it lasted. Was it insanely tiring walking around every single day because there was always so much to do? One hundred percent. Was your sleep schedule messed up from staying up late hanging out with your friends and waking up early to go grab breakfast and get ready for the day? More than ever before. Would you trade the experience for anything else in the world? Absolutely not.

You did one final sweep of the room to make sure you’d grabbed everything you’d brought in. “Ready to go?” you asked as you placed your suitcase upright on the ground.

“Yup, let’s head downstairs before the bus leaves,” MJ chuckled, shaking her head. “I am so ready to sleep in my own bed again.”

You laughed and grabbed your keycards. MJ placed the remote back on the TV stand and wheeled her luggage out the door and you followed suit, pulling the door shut behind you. Once you double-checked that the door had been locked properly, the two of you headed down to the lobby, where you were supposed to meet the rest of your classmates.

Dropping the keycards off at the front desk, you made your way over to where you could see most of your cohort already gathered.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Mr. Harrington checked your names off his list. “The only ones left now are Flash and Brad. They’d better come down soon, wouldn’t want to- ah! There they are!” he marched over to where the two boys were.

“Wow, I don’t think I have ever seen him look that relieved. Is it just me or did he get taller?” you heard a voice approaching you.

Peter.

There he was, walking towards you, wearing that blue checkered shirt that looked oh-so-good on him. Something about him today hit you differently. You couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was, but it was safe to say that you felt your heart skip a beat at how amazing he looked.

“As much as I hate to say it, I agree with you,” MJ joked. “Crazy what lifting some weight off your shoulders can do for you.”

“Crazy how quickly this whole trip is already over,” Ned spoke. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go home yet.”

“Oh hush, just last night you were on the phone telling Betty that you couldn’t wait to take her to the movies once we’re all back in Queens,” Peter quipped, effectively making Ned blush and all of you laugh.

The aura of the lobby was very mixed. On one hand, the atmosphere felt lively as people chatted with their friends about all the fun times they had over the last few weeks, about the constant highs they all felt. On the other hand, there was a certain longing in most people’s eyes, a willingness to hold on to this feeling for just a little longer.

It was a very bittersweet vibe, and very understandably so.

“Alright guys, um- hey, can I get your attention for just a minute please?” Mr. Harrington squeaked. He raised his arms up to try and grab everyone’s attention, and to his own surprise, it worked.

“So, basically, I just wanted to say thank you to every single one of you for attending this trip, and I hope that it was a great experience for you all. Our bus should be here shortly, but before we go, I was hoping to get one quick picture with the entire group, if that’s okay?” After confirming that nobody had an issue with it, he handed his camera over to one of the staff members from the reception desk, who quickly snapped a wonderful picture of you all.

He thanked her, and then went outside to check for the bus.

“Looks like there’s still some more time before we leave,” you stated, peeking out through the glass windows and noticing the absence of a bus.

“Judging by the way Mr. Harrington’s seeming frustrated, I’d say you’re probably right,” Peter chuckled. “Hey, let’s get some pictures of our own in the meantime, I still have some film left on my camera!”

You, Ned and MJ agreed, and Peter pulled out his camera from his carry-bag. You all took turns posing with each other, starting off with simple smiles, but progressively getting goofier and sillier until you’ve hit the point where you were just standing in the middle of the lobby recreating iconic memes, sending you all into fits of laughter.

“Okay, okay, enough of this,” Peter giggles, still coming down from moments ago when he was guffawing at your attempt to recreate that one young Cardi B picture. “Let’s get some group shots now.”

MJ quickly asked Yasmin, another one of your classmates, if she’d be okay with getting a few shots of them and explained to her how to work the camera.

You went to grab a sip of water and stood off to the side, letting the three have their moment. They’d been there for each other for four years, and while you were all close now, you’d only come into the picture recently. You wanted to let the squad - the original squad - get some pictures too, you’d been in enough with them already, it was okay.

Ned said something which you couldn’t hear, but it drew out undoubtedly heartfelt laughs from the other two. Eyes scrunched and faces radiating with nothing but joy, Yasmin saw this as a perfect moment to capture, and you saw her take what you were sure would have turned out to be an amazing candid.

Yasmin went to hand the camera back to MJ, but Peter quickly stopped her.

“Hold on one second please, would it be okay if you got just one last picture? With the whole group?”

She nodded, stepping back.

“Y/n! Why are you off to the side?” Peter rushed over to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Come on, we can’t take a full group photo without you in it!”

In that very moment, as Peter grabbed your hand and gently pulled you to where the rest of the group was standing, something in your mind clicked. You laughed as Peter abruptly stopped and you bumped into him, hearing the click of the camera go off. None of it seemed to matter though. All you could see was Peter smiling back down at you, the crinkles by his eyes more defined than ever, but also surprisingly more beautiful than ever.

You could sense the three people around you continuing to throw up more poses quickly, Yasmin capturing them, but the entire while, your eyes wouldn’t leave Peter’s grinning face, your mind slowly stopped registering anything other than the feeling of Peter’s arms around your shoulders. The pure warmth he radiated pulled you in further, and everything around you except his perfect smile blurred.

One thing became very clear in that moment of complete encapsulation though, despite it being a completely foreign feeling to you, as the same words played in your head, over and over.

‘Holy crap, I think I’m in love with my best friend.’

If only you knew, those were the exact same words racing through Peter’s mind.

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