#it's my crush's* birthday so a good excuse to send them them something cute that I technically took for them last year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

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Always You | JJK (Eight-Part 1)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 11.5k (part 1)

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (!!!), mentions of sex, oc struggles with her future, mentions of vibrator, mentions of cum eating, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), masturbation, swallowing

Notes: I am having to post this chapter in two parts, I am so sorry about that! But here it is!! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter:) feel free to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:) I LOVE talking with ya’ll!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @aclowe13 @bishuthot @271101 @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch @not-your-lion @flowersgirl02 @justinetingball @fiantomartell @fairysunooo @taebae19

Previous ---- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September

“What about this one?” You hold up another birthday banner, showing Vanessa yet another option.

“Ugly.” She says.

This is the fourth fucking birthday banner you’ve shown her and she doesn’t approve of any of them. But you have to admit this one is a little ugly.

“Vanessa…” you groan out, getting very obviously frustrated.

“I like this one.” She points to a banner. The very first one you showed her.

“Seriously?” you grab the banner and place it in your cart. “Okay, we still have to pick up the cake at 3. And we need to make sure we have enough plates for everyone…oh! We also still have to pick up the bottles at the liquor store.”

“I can get the cake.” She replies smoothly.

“We can just go together?”

Today is Jungkook’s birthday and you and Vanessa have been (Kind of) texting throughout the last week trying to find a good day to meet up. The day happened to be today of all days, so you’re feeling quite rushed.

“Fine.” Vanessa picks at her cuticles, just standing here looking gorgeous.

You on the other hand…were not expecting this to be a fashion show! You’re in shorts and a t shirt while she wears a flowy green dress and sandals.

“I want to be the one to present his cake to him though,” Vanessa begins, her eyes never leaving her fingers, “I am his girlfriend after all.”

You hate that your chest tightens at her words, you hate how her words affect you like this, how she affects you like this. Just being in her presence alone makes your heart twist.

“Got it.” You place some birthday plates in the cart, “So…what did you get him for his birthday?” you try to make conversation.

“A cologne.”

“You know he’s sensitive to smells—”

“He likes this one.”

“Oh.”

“I know him better than you think y/n.” her smooth voice cuts you like a butcher knife.

You nod your head, not knowing what to say. Maybe she does. But like, you still know him better right? You got to, right?

“What about you?” Vanessa lifts her eyes to meet yours, her eyes are small and dark and inviting.

“Uh, to be honest…I’m meeting with Jimin after this so we can go shopping for his gifts. So, I don’t know yet but I have an idea.”

“And what’s your idea?” her eyes go back down to her nails that she keeps picking at.

“Friendship bracelets.” You state.

“Hm.” Vanessa pushes the cart forward and walks towards the isle with candles. “We still need nice candles for the cake.”

“Right.”

~~~~~~~

“It couldn’t have been that bad, babe.” Jimin holds up a plain black hoodie and nods approvingly. “Another one for his collection, what do you think?”

“Looks like something I’d steal, so yes.” You give him a quick thumbs up, “And it was bad dude. She’s so hard to talk to!”

“Yeah, I could see that.” Jimin stands in front of a full body length mirror and checks himself out, pushing his hair out of his face. “Forehead or no forehead, tonight?”

“Hmm, no forehead.”

“Forehead it is.”

“Wow, you never listen to me!”

Jimin chuckles wholeheartedly, shrugging his shoulders like he agrees with you.

“So, where are these bracelets you keep going on about?”

“That one weird shop buy the smoothie place has these cute bracelets with letters for names on them! I was thinking I could get him a black one with my initial on it and I would get myself one with his initial.”

“You guys are so…that’s cute I guess.” Jimin giggles, he holds up his wrist as if imagining himself with the bracelet. “I want one too!” he whines.

“Maybe for your birthday.” You wink. “Anyway, do you think Vanessa knows Jungkook better than me?”

Jimin stops walking to get a look at you, an expressions that reads: Are you serious? Plastered on his face.

“It’s a valid question.” You say.

“No one knows Jungkook like you honey.”

“Okay…Also, you’ll be meeting my friend Yoongi tonight!”

“The not date, date guy?” Jimin pouts, “I thought you weren’t going to lead him on…”

You scrunch up your face in confusion,

“I can have friends Jimin, I’m not leading him on!” you try to defend.

“If you say so. Just like, try to focus on one boy at a time, you know?” Jimin teases.

You two walk to the shop that sells the bracelets and go inside. You find the bracelets you’re looking for rather quickly, feeling nice and lucky. You grab them and go to pay, when you finish up at the register you notice a Jack Skellington key chain and add it on to Jungkook’s gifts. You always have trouble finding good gifts for people, okay? You take what you can get.

“Shit, it’s already 6. I still need to go home and get ready!”

~~~~~

Nick lets you and Vanessa use their place as the spot to celebrate, it’s bigger than your place and Vanessa agrees saying it’s bigger than hers as well. Nick and his bro that believes in aliens (You really got to learn his name but at this point you are too afraid to ask) are the only ones here as you and Vanessa set up.

“Bro AI is out to get us man—” Aaanndd you are tuning him out, you watch as Nick listens closely, nodding his head every few minutes and whispering ‘Bro’. You and Vanessa hang up decorations in silence, the sound of Nick and his bro chatting away filling the room.

“People should start arriving soon…” you try to make small talk with Vanessa, she only hums in response not even sparing you a glance.

“You look nice.” You try giving her a compliment, she turns her head to the side to look at you and a sly smile grows on her face.

“Do you have feelings for Jungkook?”

You immediately choke on your fucking spit, what the actual fuck? You try to compose yourself when you hear the front door opening. Thank God.

“It is I!” You know that voice. “Where is my Jungkookie?” You hear Jin entering the living room along with Namjoon and Hobi.

“Jimin should be bringing him in the next 30 or so minutes!” you yell out. Once Jin and the other two boys spot you they light up.

“y/n!!!” Jin hurries to your side and bring you in for a quick hug. “How are you?!”

“Good, good.” You laugh, hugging him back.

“Good to see you y/n” Namjoon says with a soft smile and then you hear your named being shouted even though Hobi is a foot away from you.

“Long time no see!!!” He hugs you, shaking you around in his embrace. You can’t help but chuckle at your friend.

“Hi guys, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Would we miss our Jungkookie’s birthday? No way.” Jin says.

“Oh,” you turn around to see Vanessa just standing behind you, not saying anything just staring. “This is Vanessa. Jungkook’s—”

“We know!” Hobi says, “Jungkook has brought her to Jin’s. Nice to see you again Vanessa!”

Vanessa tilts her head and nods, her lips not even attempting to curve into a smile.

“You too.” She finally says.

This girl either has no manners or just does not know how to properly socialize? Maybe she gets anxiety being around too many people?

You feel your phone buzz.

Yoongs 7:14pm

Im outside

“Be right back guys, a friend of mine just got here.” You try talking over your group of friends. You head towards the front door, swinging it open to a Min Yoongi waiting patiently.

He smiles at you when he sees you, he holds up a bottle of wine and shakes it around a bit.

“For the party.” He says.

“Perfect, let’s pour us a glass right now!” you gesture him to enter the apartment.

You two walk into the kitchen, and you start searching for a wine bottle opener but can’t seem to find it.

“Hey Nick!” You yell out, hoping to get his attention, “Where’s the wine opener?”

Nick shuffles into the kitchen and gives you an expression that screams he has no idea.

“I know where it’s at.” Vanessa’s silky voice fills your ears as she enters the kitchen.

“Oh.” Of course she does. Why wouldn’t Vanessa know? She probably comes here more than you do…

“Thanks.” You finally say when she hands you the wine opener.

“Well, let’s open this baby up!” you turn to face Yoongi and he smiles at you.

“Hi Vanessa.” Yoongi waves at the girl and she hums in response, walking out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, she’s…” but you don’t know what to say. Also, why are you trying to excuse her?

You pour you and Yoongi a glass and gulp it down quickly, you finish your first glass in just seconds.

“I need another one.”

“What’s got you so stressed in a time of celebration?” Yoongi casually sips on his wine, one baby sip after the other.

“Nothing, nothing.”

“y/n…” his soft tone makes you feel comforted already and he hasn’t even said anything yet.

“I don’t know how to say it without sounding psychotic.” You admit, pouring yourself your second glass of wine.

“Try me.”

“I feel like I am competing…with…”

“With Vanessa?” He gladly finishes for you.

“Yeah, like…I don’t know, I feel like she’s trying to take my place. But my place isn’t ‘girlfriend’ so I don’t know what I’m freaking out about.”

Yoongi sets his glass down and studies you for a moment, you begin to feel antsy under his gaze.

“I’m obviously on your side,” Yoongi begins in a hushed voice, “But maybe she’s worried too?”

“I wish I knew if she felt worried, or felt like, anything. This girl is hard to crack!” you quietly say.

“Just try to enjoy the night, okay?” Yoongi smiles and you don’t even feel like smiling back but you do. Suddenly, you feel your phone going off.

Jungkook 7:32pm

Why is Jimin making me dress up? I thought it was just a couple of us? Why do I need to look nice, I’m tired from work

Jungkook 7:33pm

Seriously y/n…it’s just a couple of us, right?

y/n 7:35pm

omg yes Jungkook it’s nothing big I swear, he just wants you to look nice for pictures

Jungkook 7:36pm

I always look nice for pics lol

y/n 7:38pm

No comment

Jungkook 7:40pm

Don’t be fukin rude

` y/n 7:40pm

Can you guys hurry up?

Jungkook 7:44pm

Jimin is in the mirror deciding if he’s showing his forehead or not

y/n 7:45pm

classic Jimin

Jungkook 7:45pm

Classic Jimin

You stuff your phone in your back pocket and grab your glass of wine and begin sipping on it again. Yoongi eyes you up and smirks.

“That the birthday boy?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry…yes. He and Jimin should be here soon.” You watch as Yoongi nods his head and then you realize…”Oh my god, let me introduce you to the guys!” you set your glass down on the counter and reach for Yoongi’s hand and pull him towards the living room. Unfortunately for you, you miss the way Yoongi blushes at the contact.

“Guys, guys.” You interrupt the boys from their conversations, “This is my friend Yoongi…” you gesture towards the boy, “Yoongi, this is Jin…Namjoon, Hobi, and Nick and his pal, uh…” you blink at Alien Dude and he just grins at you, not realizing you don’t know his fucking name. “Yeah, anyway.” You decide to move on, “Jungkook and Jimin should be here soon—” Suddenly, there is soft knocking on the door. You raise a brow because who else could it be?

You walk towards the front door and look through the peep hole and much to your surprise you see Holly and Trina waiting outside the door. You’re quick to open it with a wide smile on your face.

“I thought you didn’t want to come?” You ask, your question directed towards Trina.

“I…” her eyes slide to Holly, “…Had a change of heart.” She huffs out quietly.

“You’re going to be civil?” you smirk at your friend and she rolls her eyes at you.

“She’s going to be more than civil.” Holly pipes up, “She’s going to be nice.”

“Hey we never agreed to that!” Trina crosses her arms over her chest, “But whatever.”

“Thanks for coming T.” your smirk transitions into a soft smile. This means a lot to you, that Trina is trying to accept Jungkook.

“Well? Are you going to let us in or what?”

“Right, right.” You move to the side and let the girls through. They step inside and make their way towards the boys.

“Oh? You must be Mister Oatmeal Raisin!” Trina grins towards Yoongi, who stands here chatting with Hobi.

“You’re…let me guess, Trina? And you must be Holly?” he nods at both girls, “I’ve heard a lot about you two.”

“I hope good things?” Trina teases.

“Only the best.” Yoongi raises his glass to her and she turns her head to smirk at you.

You watch as everyone gets along, talking, laughing and having a good time—all except Vanessa. She is sitting on the sofa on her phone, tapping away. She doesn’t even try to converse with any of Jungkook’s friends? Strange. You hate her, technically. But you can’t help but feel bad? Like, why does she isolate herself so much? Does she really just have some social anxiety or something? There’s got to be a reason for her odd behavior.

“Hey.” You say, sitting on the sofa next to her. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Vanessa doesn’t look up from her phone as she barely acknowledges you.

“Why don’t you come hang out with the rest of us?”

Vanessa tilts her head to get a look at you and she blinks at you repeatedly.

“Why?” she finally asks. “I’m only here for Jungkook.”

Okay, ouch.

“Oh...well—”

“You never answered my question from earlier,” Vanessas coy smile begins growing on her face. “How you feel about Jungkook.”

You feel your palms get sweaty when you process her words. How the hell do you respond to that?

“I—I…” Then the front door is opening and you hear Jimin obnoxiously announce their arrival, that he has the birthday boy.

You immediately jump to your feet and rush towards the entrance of the apartment to greet your friends.

“Too bad you can’t admit it, “ Vanessa whispers, her eyes going back to her phone, “I could help you too.”

“JUNGKOOKIE!!!” Jin opens his arms wide, “Come and embrace me! It’s your birthday gift.” Jungkook stumbles in the apartment with wide eyes as he searches the living room. His eyes find yours and he smiles. He shows you his bunny grin and you can’t help but smile back. He looks breathtaking, Jimin didn’t play around picking Jungkook’s outfit. Ripped black jeans, chunky boots, a plaid shirt with a leather jacket—he looks hot as hell. Vanessa is a lucky girl, you think bitterly to yourself.

Jungkook greets his friends one by one until he sees Yoongi walk from the kitchen into the living room. Yoongi has refilled his wine glass and stops just in front of Jungkook and bows his head in greeting. You rush to the two boys, joining them in this awkward encounter.

“Oh, I invited Yoongi.” You begin to explain, “You remember Yoongi, right?” you ask Jungkook.

“Of course…” Jungkook tries smiling but it’s tense and strained. At this, Yoongi smirks.

Yoongi steps closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder and he smiles at Jungkook.

“I’m y/n’s plus one tonight—or I guess her…date?”

“D-Date?” You and Jungkook both stutter out.

Yoongi brings you in closer, nice and snug against his shoulder as he chuckles.

“Something like that.”

Jungkook tries releasing a breath but finds it to be troublesome. He looks at you with an expression you cannot really decipher, but he doesn’t look all too pleased.

“That’s nice.” He finally says, scratching the back of his neck.

“What’s nice?” It’s a smooth and silky voice. Vanessa. “Happy birthday babe.” She joins your circle next to Jungkook and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Right…” you butt in, “Happy birthday Jungkook.” You smile, still in Yoongi’s arms.

“What do you want to do first?” Vanessa links arms with Jungkook and you feel your body go tense. You don’t want her to touch him.

“Eat.” Jungkook laughs, “I’m so hungry.”

“Well, we have pizza for everyone.” You say loudly, getting the rest of everyone’s attention.

“You say pizza? Hell yeah.” Trina walks towards you four with Holly following behind her.

“Oh hey Trina…” Jungkook says, not entirely too sure how to talk to the girl that hates him.

“Hey Jungkook,” she says quickly with a smile, “So where’s the pizza?”

Jungkook and you share a look of pleasant surprise. Trina? Being nice?

The rest of the boys follow and you all head inside the kitchen to snag a few slices of pizza from the pizzeria that Jungkook is fond of. Vanessa stays close to Jungkook’s side, not that you are surprised. But what is surprising you is that Yoongi has suddenly become slightly more affectionate with you?

Yoongi takes any chance he can get to touch you in some way, whether it be picking a piece of thread off your shirt, or placing a wild strand of hair behind your ear. He doesn’t really strike you as the type to be so openly affectionate…at least not the one to initiate it.

But can picking a piece of thread off your shirt really be counted as affectionate? Maybe he’s just trying to help. What you don’t know though…Jungkook has picked up on too. He has watched as Yoongi smiles at you and you smile back, he has watched as Yoongi subtlety touches your arm when he talks to you and how your hand finds his shoulder when you laugh.

Jungkook sits on his couch, chowing down on a slice of pizza as he glares at you and Yoongi. He doesn’t mean to glare but why is he here? This is a small get together between close friends. How close have you and Yoongi gotten?

“And then bro, I was like no fucking way bro.” Alien bro talks animatedly, his hands motioning all around the place.

Nick stuffs another slice of pizza in his mouth, nodding along to Alien bro’s story.

“That is fucking wild.” You hear Trina pitch in, “Like, did that really happen to you?”

“It may have been a dream, but let me tell you…” Alien bro closes his eyes, “I think it was real, like a memory.”

You internally laugh, because this dude has got some wild fucking stories and you don’t know how to take him seriously. But everyone seems to be enjoying it.

“Let’s do cake!” You hear Jimin yell out, “I have such a sweet tooth right now.”

At this you see Vanessa actually light up, like she has been waiting all night for someone to mention the cake. You two agreed she could present it to Jungkook, maybe that’s why she’s so visibly excited.

“I’ll go get it…” She speaks up, “I’ll be right back.” She says, facing Jungkook. Vanessa stands from her spot next to Jungkook on the couch and heads towards the kitchen.

A few minutes pass by when you hear your name being called. You get up and walk to the kitchen when you see Vanessa with the cake in her hands, the candles already lit up.

“Can you turn off the lights?” she asks, “And you can start the Birthday song.”

You nod your head, walking back into the living room to switch the lights off.

“Okay, ready Jungkook?” you smile at him and he rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“I guess.” He says, amusement laced in his voice.

“Happy birthday to you!” you begin singing, the rest of the gang joins in and the living room is soon being filled with the sound of everyone’s voices singing Jungkook a happy birthday. You pull out your phone and begin recording, Vanessa walks in with the cake and she keeps her face neutral. She doesn’t even sing, wow. You can’t help but kind of laugh, that’s so in character for her.

“Happy birthday dear Juuuungkoook, Happy birthday to you!” You all finish up and start whooping and hollering.

“Make a wish.” Vanessa sets the cake down in front of him and Jungkook nods his head. He takes a deep breath before his eyes find yours. You guys share a brief moment before he’s blowing out his candles.

“What did you wish for?!” Hobi asks, excitement filling the room as everyone agrees that they want to know.

“Secret.” He says, still looking at you.

“Here,” Vanessa nudges a perfectly wrapped box in Jungkook’s hands, “Present.”

“You didn’t have to Vanessa.” Jungkook grins at her but he’s already unwrapping his gift, he throws the wrapping paper to the floor and takes a look at the cologne box.

“This is so expensive!” he whines, “But thank you!” He looks at you for a moment when he awkwardly pecks Vanessas lips in front of everyone.

“My turn!” Jimin shouts, “My turn, my turn!” he stands up and walks by the front door where he left the gift. He picks up the bag and walks back into the living room, standing in front of Jungkook, handing him the bag.

“You’ll love it.” Jimin wiggles his brows at the boy.

Jungkook wiggles his brows back as he opens up the bag and pulls out a black hoodie.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook stands up to hug Jimin, “This one is so soft.”

The rest of the gang gives Jungkook a gift one by one until all eyes are on you. Suddenly, you feel super fucking shy and lame that you got matching bracelets.

“Uh, I haven’t gotten anything for you yet…” you lie. “But I will soon, promise.”

Jungkook’s bunny smile begins to fade as he processes your words,

“No worries, y/n.” he smiles again, “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s just a little late, is all.” You shift awkwardly from one foot to another. You wish you weren’t such an idiot. You notice Jimin staring at you from across the room, he looks disappointed.

“What about the bracelets y/n?” Vanessa’s voice can be heard by everyone. She looks at you with a blank expression and you never wanted to strangle someone more.

“What bracelets?” Jungkook’s curiosity showing.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. They’re friendship bracelets. Such a sweet idea.” Vanessa smiles at you.

“You got me and you friendship bracelets?” Jungkook stands up and walks to you, he extends his right hand out and waits expectantly.

“Thanks Vanessa.” You deadpan.

“No problem.”

“It’s really nothing Jungkook…”

“I want the damn bracelet y/n.”

You stare at him for a moment, his big doe eyes making you feel like you must give in.

“okay, they’re in my bag…” you turn around and search for your purse. You notice Yoongi trying to hand it you and you smile at him gratefully.

“Here.” You hand him his bracelet and he inspects it, rolling it through his fingers.

“Your initial?” Jungkook clenches the bracelet in his fist and looks up at you.

“I fucking love it.” He brings the bracelet to his heart, “I will wear it every day.”

“I have one too…” you pull it from your bag and dangle in around.

“It has a J?” Jungkook bunny smile grows ten times as wide. He takes the bracelet from your fingers and chuckles at the two bracelets.

“I love it.”

“I’m glad you like it—”

“No, love it. I love…” Then he’s clearing his throat, remembering he is in a room full of people.

“Thank you.”

“Oh! There’s one more thing…” you pull out the key chain and you watch as Jungkook’s face lights up. Of course he is more excited about the key chain, you laugh.

“Fucking awesome!” Jungkook takes it from you, “I’ll put it on my keys!”

“That’s the idea,” you chuckle. “Anyway, let’s play games now.”

You and Jungkook stand at the front of the living room, in front of the T.V in battle mode.

“You’re going down Jeon.” You snicker at him, he only rolls his eyes at you as he readies himself.

“I’m just glad I’m not going against Jimin.” Jungkook shoots Jimin a look and Jimin winks.

You two have to chug an entire beer can, trying to beat the other.

“Honestly, same.” You admit, if anyone can down a drink in seconds—it’s Jimin.

Trina stands up and joins your side,

“Okay, are we ready everyone?”

Everyone begins cheering, the sound motivating you and making you feel excited.

“Okay. When I yell…BAM…you start drinking and don’t stop until that can is empty…got it?”

“Yes, we know how to chug a drink, Trina.”

“Damn girl, I was just sayin’.” Trina throws a hand on her hip, “Okay, 3…2…1…BAM!”

You and Jungkook scramble to start drinking, the chilly liquid making its way down your throats. The drink is cold and carbonated and you’re trying to ignore the way it sizzles, instead pretending it’s as smooth as water and you down it back.

“Jungkook is going to win!” Namjoon yells out, he has risen to his feet, the excitement too much.

“No, y/n is! Look how much her head it tilting back!” You hear Jin chime in.

Truth is, you aren’t really sure how much you’ve drank, or how much is left! You’re just wanting it to be over!

“Holy shit, they’re both so close!”

“Broooooooo”

And right as you’re about to finish your drink you hear the sound of a can being crushed right next to you. He won.

“WHAT’S UP…LOSER!” Jungkook shakes his empty, crushed can in your face as you finally finish your own drink.

“Okay, okay. Literally only let you win because it’s your birthday.” You snide playfully.

“Sure y/n, sure.” Jungkook grins down at you, his laughter bounces off the walls and you feel so whole when you hear the sound. He leans forward until his arms are wrapped around you in a quick yet loving hug.

“Whatever you got to say to yourself…loser.” He chuckles out, letting go of you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Your pout is so cute, Jungkook thinks.

Yoongi stands up, his gummy smile lighting up the room as he approaches you two. He stands next to you and asks if you’re alright.

“You’ve already had so much to drink, I’m just making sure you can make it back to the sofa.” Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he laughs.

“She can handle herself.” You hear Jungkook say in a somewhat serious tone, “She knows how to drink.” He tries to say a little more lightly.

“But she doesn’t really have to do the penalty, right?” Yoongi asks.

“No, I definitely do.” You laugh out, “Where’s the shot, huh?”

Jungkook gives you a silly looking smirk as he heads towards the kitchen to fetch you that shot. He’s only gone for a moment when you realize he has returned with the liquid of fire.

“For you, princess.”

You roll your eyes at his little nick name he’s given you but you cannot help the blush that creeps on your cheeks…

“Please…please.” You pant, rolling your hips into his as you meet his desperate thrusts.

“Please what, princess?” he breathes out heavily, “Told you that when you’re with—” He begins fucking into you faster, “When you’re with me…to use your words.” His pace is bruising, causing you to choke on the air around you.

The little nick name causing you to remember something you have tied burying.

“I think you should take one too, since it is your birthday after all.” You tease.

“But I’m the winner…” Jungkook pouts, his bottom lip jutting out so far.

“Come on, I bet you won’t.” Jimin pipes in.

“Yeah dude.” You hear Nick say.

“FINE!” Jungkook throws his hands up in defeat, “But you have to go pour it for me.” He says, looking at you.

“Done deal, baby.”

“Pour me one too.” Vanessa walks up to you, her strap on her shoulder sliding down.

“Oh?” you ask, but you nod your head in approval and head towards the kitchen to pour two more shots.

You return with the shots, but feel your stomach drop when you see Jungkook and Vanessa laughing together, her hand laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Oh!” Jungkook looks at you and smiles, “The shots!”

“Yeah…”

And then Min Yoongi is at your side with his own shot, he looks at you and gives you a sweet smile and eyes full of understanding.

“Let’s take them.” He says. His hand going to yours, he squeezes it tight and you feel yourself trying to breathe.

“Here you go.” You hand the two shots to Jungkook and Vanessa, they take them and you four look at one another before raising your glasses.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook.” You whisper, taking the shot.

Hours pass, and things are starting to wind down, you think. Jin, Namjoon and Hobi are at the front door saying their goodbyes and you feel your time is coming soon too.

“Us too.” Trina says, “Our uber is almost here.” Her and Holly gather their things and make their way out the door.

“Jimin, you coming with us?” Trina asks.

“Um, what about you y/n?” Jimin makes it to your side, his hand going to rub your shoulder.

“You guys go without me, I’m going to help clean up. Hostess duties!” You salute towards your friends and they giggle.

“Okay babe, I’ll see you soon?” Jimin goes in for a tight hug and you hug him back even tighter.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help you clean up.” Yoongi offers, but you shake your head.

“No, I couldn’t ask that. Me and Vanessa got it. You go home too, it’s so late. I will come by to see you soon though.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks as he catches Jungkook watching you two. “Well, if you insist y/n.” he inches towards you and to your surprise, you feel his lips leave a small kiss on your cheek. Yoongi smirks when he sees Jungkook react. Jungkook glares at the boy and Yoongi feels like hopefully he helped enough tonight.

“What was that for?” you feel yourself turn red.

“Nothing.” He whispers before he’s turning around and walking out of the door.

You are left here shocked and confused but you cannot help but smile at Yoongi’s small gesture. He really is too sweet.

“Well,” you turn around to face Jungkook and Vanessa, “Let’s clean up,” you say to Vanessa, “And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Actually,” Vanessa curls her lips upwards, “I am feeling quite tired.” Her eyes find yours, “So maybe Jungkook can help you clean up.”

“You’re going home already?” Jungkook looks confused. He was probably expecting birthday sex or some shit.

“Mhm.” She breathes out easily, “See you later babe.” She leans over and pecks his cheek, you immediately twist your head to look away. Vanessa notices and she fucking smiles that sly ass smile. “See you later, y/n.”

And with that she is out of the apartment, leaving just you and Jungkook and Nick and Alien Bro.

“We will be out on the balcony smoking, if you guys want to join.” Nick offers to you, but you’re shaking your head no.

“Nah, you guys enjoy.” Jungkook says. Nick and Alien bro (You really got to learn this dudes name) are opening the back door and leaving you guys for the balcony.

“And then there was two.” Jungkook jokes, he chews on his lips as he watches you begin the cleaning up process. You get a large black trash bag and start throwing away the empty beer bottles and other trash around the living room and kitchen.

“Help me clean, birthday boy.”

Jungkook grins at you and starts helping, he’s gathering the shot glasses and setting them in the kitchen sink. You two work like this for around 10-15 minutes when the place is finally looking like his apartment again.

“Well, I guess that’s it.” You set the last trash bag in the kitchen, “You and Nick can take these out later, right?” “Yes, y/n. You did enough, I swear.” Jungkook smiles at you. “Hey, where’s your bracelet?” he dangles his wrist around, showing you his.

“Oh…” You dig around in your pockets until you finally find the piece of jewelry.

“Let me.” Jungkook stands closer to you, reaching his hand out, expecting you to hand over the bracelet. You place it in his hand and he grabs your wrist and clips the bracelet on.

“There.” He breathes out, “Never take it off.” He half jokes.

“You really like it?”

“I really love it.” Jungkook pulls you in for a hug, but he’s letting go much faster than you would like.

“Wanna chill for a bit?” He asks you, his hands still on your arms from your hug that you just shared.

“For a bit, sure.”

You two walk to the living room sofa and plop down, the long day finally catching up to you. It’s around 1 am now, you’ve been running around all day.

“So…” Jungkook looks at you with an unreadable expression, “What’s going on with you and this Yoongi guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was tonight like, a date for you two?”

“What? No?”

“Really? Could of fooled me and like, everyone else.”

“He was just joking…I think.” You groan into your hands, and laugh. “Why?”

“I was just wondering.” He turns to face forward, his face hardening as he thinks. “Is he going to be like, your boyfriend?”

“What?!” you choke on your spit, “Yoongi is my friend.”

“Does he know that?” Jungkook continues to look forward, “He was all over you.”

“He definitely was not all over me. Oh my god. What are you getting so crazy for?”

Crazy. That’s the word you use, but he knows you mean jealous. Jungkook sits here, biting on his bottom lip. He has to admit, he doesn’t like this ‘crazy’ feeling. He feels like he’s suffocating just remembering you with Yoongi tonight. He has no right to feel crazy or jealous. He has a girlfriend for fucks sake!

“I just hope he’s treating you right.”

“He’s just a friend Jungkook. But you know what? And if he was trying to date me?”

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, not liking the idea already.

“Then like I said, I hope he’s treating you right.” He says more softly, turning to look at you again.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

“It was nice, thank you.”

“What’s your favorite birthday in your life so far?”

Jungkook tilts his head as he thinks, rocking it side to side. He folds his arms behind his head and lets out a long breath.

“There’s two I can think of.” He says, “When I was 10 all I wanted to do was see one of those drive thru zoo things. But I wasn’t expecting much because I guess birthdays and holidays were stressful for my parents…” he takes a deep breath, “they always fought so much and so I didn’t think we would be doing anything for my birthday at all. But they for once, they got along this day. They took me to the zoo and I just remember being so on edge like something may go wrong…but it never did, it was a perfect day.”

“I bet 10 year old Jungkook was so cute.”

“I was the cutest!”

“And what’s the second?”

“Sophomore year of college.” He states quickly making you choke on air. Really? That birthday of all birthdays?

“Jungkook, there has to be a better one than that…” you begin, “We literally didn’t even do anything.”

It seemed everyone happened to become busy the day of Jungkook’s birthday, everyone except you. You and Jungkook spent the day just the two of you in his dorm room watching movies and playing video games. You didn’t even buy him a present, much too broke!

“That day meant a lot to me.” Jungkook explains, “You didn’t leave my side, no matter what.”

“Well, you were my best friend.”

“And now?” Jungkook turns his head to face you, “Am I your best friend now?”

“Jungkook…” you caress his thigh, “Of course.”

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles that bunny smile and you can’t help but giggle.

“Were you worried?”

“So worried.” He continues to laugh, “You’re my best friend too.”

~~~~~

October

“I don’t know guys!” you whine, bringing the cup of coffee in for a sip. “Marketing…can someone even be passionate about that?”

“What did I say y/n? You’re so concerned if you’re passionate or not, why don’t you start off small—finding something you just like.” Yoongi offers his piece of advice but you groan.

“What do you think Tae?” you point your head in his direction, “Wait, I am asking one of the most passionate people I know.” You complain.

“I agree with Yoongi, y/n.” Taehyung says, he drinks his water in gulps.

“Of course, who wouldn’t agree with Yoongi?” You hit your head on the table a few times.

You three are seated in Yoongi’s record shop in the cozy corner of the store, discussing the burden of dreams.

“I mean, guys.” You begin, “I don’t want to be making cookies forever.”

“But I really like them.” Yoongi whispers.

“Me too,” Taehyung says as he shoves a sugar cookie down his throat. “So good.”

“Guys, you aren’t helping.”

“Honestly y/n…” Yoongi stands from his seat to get some more coffee, “Stop trying to force a dream to happen. It will come to you naturally, just trust in that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” You hand Taehyung another cookie and he takes it with a grin.

“So y/n…” Taehyung swallows down the last bits of the cookie before he’s turning to face you in his chair, “How was Jungkook’s birthday, I forgot to ask.”

“It went really well actually.”

“Why do you say ‘actually’?” Taehyung laughs, “Were you expecting it to go bad?”

“It’s not that…I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Is it because of Vanessa?” Yoongi comes back with two fresh coffees.

“Maybe.”

“That’s his girlfriend, right? I just don’t get it. Should we come up with an evil plan to break them up?” Taehyung snickers.

“Tae, chill.” You giggle.

“I’m joking but I am also totally serious.” He comments. “Anyway guys, I gotta head back to the museum. But same time next week?”

“You know it.” You blow on your hot coffee, waving him goodbye.

The last few weeks the three of you meet up for coffee (Tae usually brings his own drink of choice, says coffee is too bitter for him) and chit chat just like now. It’s an interesting group but you feel comfortable. After time has passed, forgiving and moving on from Taehyung’s crushing you has gotten easier and now you even find his friendship to be quite valuable. You guess they weren’t kidding when they say time heals all wounds.

“Are you two ever going to tell me what happened between you? You were so tense when he first started hanging out.” Yoongi says, observant as usual.

“I will. But another day,” you smile.

“No rush.” Yoongi drinks his coffee slowly, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“By the way, did it work?” Yoongi asks between sips.

You can’t help but raise your brows in question,

“Did what work?”

“Did Jungkook say anything? About being jealous?” He gives you a smirk.

“What are you talk—wait, were you purposely trying to be affectionate with me to see if Jungkook would get a rise out of it?” You ask, completely shocked. That seems almost out of character for Yoongi!

“I tried. I’m a little awkward being the first to show affection, “ he admits, “But for you, my friend, I was willing to try.” He gives you a shy smile and you feel your heart race.

“Yoongi—”

“You really don’t even have to answer because I know the truth. I could see it on his face, but I was curious if he said anything to you.”

You think back to Jungkook’s birthday and well…he technically did say something to you. He was being a little crazy (jealous) but you cannot understand why. Jungkook is your friend and not to mention he has a girlfriend.

“Sorry to disappoint Yoongs, but he did not.” You decide to say.

“Did you know you avoid all eye contact when you want to lie.” Yoongi takes another sip of his coffee, his sly smile telling you he knows the truth.

“Jeez, why do you pick up on things so quickly?!” you groan, “I can’t even tell one little nothing lie in front of you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to lie to me then.” He laughs. “So what did he say?”

“He just—I don’t know. He just…wanted to know what was up with you basically.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to say ‘Ah’ and then continues to drink his coffee.

“He’s not going to be rude to you or anything!” you quickly say, “he’s just a little protective over me, is all.”

“Oh? That’s all?” Yoongi teases.

“Hey…” you set your cup down and fold your hands in your lap, “What makes you think Jungkook feels the same way?”

Yoongi breathes out slowly, his fingers tapping against his mug when he looks up at you and smiles.

“There’s an obvious tension between you two, “ he starts, “The way he looks at you. That honestly gave everything away. His eyes always find you, no matter what.” Yoongi quietly chuckles, “The way he’s threatened by me. He doesn’t even try to hide it.” Yoongi thinks for a moment, “And…you two, the way you are together…god, it’s like watching two people who are in a relationship but don’t know they’re in a relationship.”

“What—what do you mean by that?” you pry further. Curious about your own dynamic with Jungkook that maybe even you can’t see.

“I don’t know like, you guys act like boyfriend and girlfriend already!” he laughs, “That’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s okay,” his gummy smile lights up his whole face, “being your friend has been so much more rewarding.”

You feel yourself smile at his words…although, you do feel bad. But keeping a friend like Yoongi around has been amazing. And maybe if you weren’t already in love with someone else…no, you shouldn’t even think that, that’s not fair.

“Thanks Yoongs.”

~~~~~~

“We need to talk.”

Jimin is shoving his way through Jungkook’s front door, his hair pushed back in frustration like his fingers have been running through it for hours.

“Jesus man, it’s like 8 in the fucking morning.” Jungkook’s low, groggy voice booms from his chest.

“This couldn’t wait. I have to be at work at 9 and I’ve been up all night with the same one thing on my mind.” Jimin takes off his shoes and makes his way to the couch.

“And what’s that?” Jungkook asks, clearly annoyed.

“You need to tell y/n how you feel.” Jimin decides to go with the straight forward approach, he does not have the time to beat around the bush today.

Jungkook closes the door and swings around to face Jimin,

“Huh?”

“Listen man, I’ve been racking my brain about it all fucking night. It’s got to be you. You have to do it, she won’t.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Grow the fucking balls, man!” Jimin sits back on the sofa, his head falling into the cushion.

“Look dude, I don’t know what you—”

“You’re in love with her, you have been since freshmen year. You guys fucked, I know. She didn’t talk to you for however long, I know that too. But come on man, it’s so clear how you both feel.”

Jungkook continues to stand here, not knowing what to say. Where is all this coming from?

“I have a girlfriend, Jimin.”

“Oh please, give me a fucking break.” Jimin stands up, walking towards Jungkook. “There is almost zero chemistry between you two. Like emotional chemistry…I don’t know what your sex life is like…” Jimin holds up a hand, “And I don’t want to know.”

“Wasn’t going to tell you anyway,” Jungkook pouts. “Listen, how can you be so sure y/n would even feel the same way?”

“Can’t you just fucking trust me?” Jimin yells out, exasperated.

“Did she say the words Jimin?” Jungkook becomes very serious, making Jimin shudder. “Did she tell you she has feelings for me?” his dark eyes pierce into Jimin’s.

Jimin looks down at the ground, feeling defeated.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Jimin finally says, “You just have to have the courage man. Are you really going to go your whole life not telling her? Why torture yourself like that?”

Jungkook stands here feeling so lost, and fucking emotional. Like, he could god damn cry about it.

“Because,” Jungkook sniffles into his sleeve. “It’s guaranteed she would be in my life. I can’t risk losing her. I couldn’t handle that man…” Jungkook begins to choke up.

Jimin walks closer to Jungkook and pulls him in for a tight hug, Jungkook keeps his arms to his side.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jimin whispers.

“I think though…that there will be a moment where you finally have the courage…”

“I don’t know.”

“You will, Jungkook. When the timing is right…but I don’t know when that is for you two.”

“I really do love her…” Jungkook allows a few tears to slip from his closed eyes into Jimin’s shoulder. “I’m so frustrated like, all the time.” He admits, “Seeing her, talking to her, I just want to tell her how I feel. I hate how hard I have to try just to stay in the zone of friendship. But you don’t understand the risk…” Jungkook leans back, pulling away from Jimin. “If she doesn’t feel the same, I could lose her.” His puffy eyes avoid Jimin. “Can I handle a loss like that again?”

“But she…” Jimin has to bite his tongue…seeing his two best friends like this hurts his heart beyond belief.

“Yeah, I understand.” Jimin decides to say, “But I think you might be surprised.”

Jungkook pulls his brows together, his face scrunching up and he scoffs.

“Maybe, but maybe not.”

“I’m sorry to bring this all on you so early in the morning…I’ve just been so worried about you two…” Jimin starts to put his shoes back on.

“Maybe you could stay until you really need to leave for work? You still go like 45 minutes, right?” Jungkook practically begs with sad, soft eyes.

“Sure.” Jimin takes his shoes back off and grabs a hold of Jungkook’s shoulder, “Let’s sit down for a while.”

The two boys head to the couch and take a seat, leaving little space between them. Jungkook needs the presence of another human being right now, he needs to feel real live warmth. Jimin wishes he could mend Jungkook’s cracked heart but he knows only you can do that. But Jimin can try his best. The two sit in comfortable silence, the only sound that can be heard is Jungkook’s light sniffling and Jimin humming a soft tune.

“It’s almost 9.” Jimin mentions regretfully.

“I know. Thanks for staying for a bit.”

“Of course.” Jimin rises from the couch, “You guys are my best friends but you two sure are fucking idiots.” He smiles and makes his way to leave.

~~~~~~

Bored. So fucking bored. Trina and Holly went out for dinner tonight and you were not invited! You kind of wonder what’s going on between them…but that’s a thought for another day, right now you are so fucking bored.

It’s Friday night and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Jimin has some party he’s going to tonight but you didn’t really feel like going so you rejected his invitation, Jin and the guy’s invited you over for a cookout but you said no because you didn’t feel like driving all the way to Jin’s place—you know, lazy.

And you haven’t heard from Jungkook all day so he’s probably tired from work or worse—with Vanessa. But would it hurt to try? To see what he’s up to?

y/n 9:04pm

Jungkook 9:10pm

y/n 9:12pm

Whatcha up to tonight?

Jungkook 9:13pm

Nothing really, you?

y/n 9:13pm

nothing either…

y/n 9:13pm

Wanna have a movie night with some wine?

Jungkook 9:20pm

Sure:)

Jungkook 9:23pm

Lemme guess, I have to bring the wine

y/n 9:23pm

Bingo!

Jungkook 9:50pm

I’m almost there

Not even 5 minutes later you hear your door being knocked on, and you yell a ‘come in’. Jungkook pushes the door open and finds you sitting on the couch wrapped up in your favorite blanket. He shuts the door behind him, and walks to the kitchen for some wine glasses. You two only nod at one another in greeting, getting comfortable in each others presence.

“I brought 2 bottles,” Jungkook says, “One for you, one for me.”

“Wow, you’re so smart.” You smile up at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smile is so special, it’s so soft and so fucking pretty he almost cannot handle it.

“Y-Yeah.” He sets the glasses down on the table that sits in front of the sofa. “What movie do you have in mind?”

“You can choose.”

“Iron Man?” “No, not that.”

“Fine.” He pouts, “Let’s find something new on Netflix.”

An hour into some random drama, you find yourself getting sleepy.

“Wakey wakey.” You feel Jungkook’s breath on your ear, you open your eyes a little wider to prove your consciousness.

“I am awake…hey,” you suddenly get an idea, “Remember a little while ago you said you felt like our friendship kind of started over?”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Would if we do?”

“I don’t get it?” Jungkook asks clearly confused.

“Let’s play a game! Of getting to know each other better. Everything out on the table.” You say with a pleased smile, obviously loving your own idea.

“hmmmmm…” Jungkook wraps his blanket closer around his body, “Sure.”

“Yay! I’ll pull out a list of questions from the internet.” You get your phone and google a list of questions. “You ready?” you say with a wink.

“I guess so.” He playfully shrugs his shoulders and shows you a small smile.

“Okay one…What’s your favorite way to spend a day off?”

“hmm…sleeping in, working out, playing video games, making videos, sleeping some more, hanging out with you.”

“Wow, honored.” You tease. “For me, it’s sleeping all day.”

“That’s it? That’s your whole answer?” Jungkook giggles.

“What type of music are into to?”

“y/n…” Jungkook whines, “You already know these answers…”

“We’re pretending we don’t!”

“Fine, I like almost all genres but I really prefer ballads.”

“I like music with meaningful lyrics,” you say.

“I agree.” Jungkook grins at you.

“Next…Do you have a favorite holiday. Why or why not?”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips as he thinks…is he honest?

“I use to hate holidays.” He admits softly, slightly slurring thanks to the wine, “But now it’s Christmas and New Year’s. And why? Both reasons are because of you.”

You feel your cheeks become warmer and probably pinker.

“Mine too.” You say quickly, “Next,” you are in a rush to change the subject. “Do you want a family of your own?”

“One day, yes. With the right person…”

“I’m the same.” You scroll through the questions, “If you had only one sense…hearing, touch, sight, etc, which would you want?”

“Touch. Imagine not being able to feel things?” Jungkook asks, he thinks about not being able to feel the soft touch of sheets on a bed, the feel of your hair between his fingers, your skin, your lips—wait, he needs to chill. “Yeah, touch.”

“Really? I would choose sight.” You say, “Who do you admire most in this world?”

“Mom.” Jungkook whispers, “She was so strong, she went through so much yet still found the strength to love me.”

“You.” Your hand finds Jungkook’s, you hold on to him softly, “My answer is you.”

“y/n…” Jungkook leans into your side, “Thank you.”

You clear you throat and continue scrolling through your phone, looking for the next question.

“If you found out today is your last day on Earth, what would you do?”

“Exactly what I’m doing right now.”

“Honestly? Me too.” You whisper, you feel your heart beginning to race as you and Jungkook admit that if it were your last day, you would spend it together. Somehow the thought almost seems romantic to you…that’s obviously your imagination but you can dream.

“What’s the last thing you do at night?”

Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and you hit his arm, laughing.

“Gross.” You giggle. “Something besides that.”

“What? You think it’s gross to mast—”

“Don’t!” you yell out laughing. “Don’t be gross.”

“Everyone does it y/n…I bet even you.” Jungkook voice goes low. “in fact, I have a question for you.” Jungkook scoots closer to you, “When was the last time you got yourself off?” your eyes go wide, “It’s not like you’re seeing anyone…unless you and Yoon—”

“No!” You begin to panic, “I’m not seeing anyone, you’re right.”

Jungkook releases a long breath and he smiles, “Thought so.” Then he’s scooting even closer to you.

“How do you touch yourself y/n?” He slurs out, “With your fingers only? Perhaps you use a vibrator?”

You push your head back in shock, there’s no way in hell Jungkook just asked you that? Is he drunk? Barely.

“Why do you want to know that?” you scoot a little closer to him too.

“Best friends know this type of stuff about each other all the time, don’t they?”

“Not really…but I’ll play. I use both.”

Jungkook raises a brow in amusement, he bites on his bottom lip as his smirks at you.

“You own a vibrator?” Jungkook chuckles darkly, “How come I didn’t know?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“I bet Jimin knows.”

“Fine, he does.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at you as he tries to hold in his slight laughter, his hand comes to his mouth and he chuckles into it.

“Thought so…when’s the last time you used it?”

“Last night before bed.”

“So, it’s the last thing you did at night?” Jungkook points his finger at you knowingly and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, I see where this is going. Fine, I get. We all masturbate. It’s completely normal and not gross and a totally valid answer for something you do before bed.” You throw your hands up as you giggle.

“Thank you.” Jungkook knees touch yours as he scoots just an inch closer, “But I wasn’t trying to make a point, I was genuinely curious about you.” He admits in a deep voice and you squeeze your thighs together, an action that does not go unnoticed by him. His eyes land to your lap and he chuckles. His voice is so low and inviting as he speaks, “Are you curious about me too?”

“What do you mean?”

“About when’s the last time I—”

“Fine, when’s the last time?” you ask lightly.

“Right before I came here.” He admits easily.

“Interesting.”

You and Jungkook stare at one another for what feels like at least an hour but in reality probably seconds. But his dark gaze is so raw and powerful, you find yourself leaning into his space.

“The last time I used my vibrator was yes, last night. But the last time I touched myself was tonight. Before you arrived.”

Jungkook nods his head in understanding, or maybe it’s approval? Either way he nods his head as a sly smile creeps on his lips.

“Can I ask you what you thought about?” Even Jungkook widens his eyes in surprise as he asks that. Where did that confidence come from? “Sorry that’s TMI.” He quickly rushes to say, not wanting to really hear your answer because he shouldn’t know what you fantasize about especially if he’s not in said fantasies.

You lean your head back and snicker. You wish you had the fucking courage to tell him the truth. Him. You thought about him.

In your fantasy his head was between your legs, licking you up and making you squirm. He would moan into your greedy cunt, basking in your juices. God, you can just picture it now. His mouth and nose covered in you, the shine on his face evidence of how well he’s eaten you. His fingers still buried inside you as he lifts his head up to smirk down at you, his hair a fucking mess from how much you have tugged on it.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about it right now and getting so heavily turned on. Your chest heaves just a little more than usual, and there’s an ache between your legs that you wish Jungkook would soothe. Your fantasy of him going down on you? You took that straight from your memories.

“Not going to say anything?” Jungkook leans in a little closer.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About…?”

“You.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand as he processes what you just say until—

“Wait, wait. That came out wrong.” Your hands scramble to hold on to his shoulders. “I mean, I was thinking about you. But not like that.” You lie. Because you have to lie.

“Oh…right, that makes sense.” Jungkook visibly deflates at your confession.

“Anyway, yeah. That’s a TMI for sure.” You laugh awkwardly and Jungkook leans back away from you.

“For sure.” Jungkook leans back on the sofa, “So, what’s the next question?”

“Ever had a threesome?” you ask from your own brain.

“You already know I have.”

“With two girls or with another guy…?”

“Two girls.”

“Would you ever with another guy?”

“Maybe if it’s with a girl that doesn’t mean something to me…but if it’s with someone I care about, probably not. I think I may be too possessive. Don’t wanna share.”

“Ah, I see.”

“What about you?”

“I would do both.” You admit. “Sounds like fun…”

“It is fun,” Jungkook laughs, “But there’s something special about just being with one person, if it’s special…”

“Have you ever had sex with someone special?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Jungkook’s never been in a serious relationship since you’ve known him so you weren’t expecting him to answer that with a yes…but he is with Vanessa now. So obviously…

“I see.”

“What’s the next question?”

“I’m looking up a new list. It’s kind of sexy, is that okay?”

“A list of dirty questions? I’m down.” Jungkook smirks and you feel the heat between your legs grow.

“Okay the first one is asking if you’re a virgin and I think the whole town knows the answer to that…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You laugh out, “Nothing, nothing.” Then continue scrolling, “Okay, opinion on shower sex?”

“Hmm, I’ve done, and I will do it again.”

“For me, it’s a little uncomfortable but I’ll do it,” you say, “boob or butt guy?”

“Fuck. Both of them, can I say both?” Jungkook pleads and you giggle.

“Sure, both.” Your eyes light up when you find the next question. “Oooh. What is your most embarrassing sex story?”

“Oh god…okay. When I was in high school I was getting head from this girl…”

“Uh huh…and then?”

“We got caught by our teacher and that’s a total mood killer right?”

“Right?”

“Well, when the teacher was scolding me I popped another boner. And I was wearing sweats so it was super obvious and she was trying so hard not to make it obvious. But I don’t know, my body betrayed me.”

“You got hard from getting scolded?”

“Apparently.”

You burst out into giggles, the story absolutely killing you. Who does that? Who pops a boner from getting scolded…by their fucking teacher?

“Your turn, your turn.”

“Okay…one time I was giving head…”

“Uh huh…and then?” he copies you.

“And I guess I swallowed his cum too fast because it shot out of my nose like milk.”

“What the fuck y/n.” Jungkook laughs out hysterically. “That’s so awesome.”

“It wasn’t awesome Jungkook, it was embarrassing.”

“Perspective.”

“In what world is someone’s perspective on this awesome?” “Mine.”

“Well, you’re fucking weird.

“Maybe so.” Jungkook continues to laugh, “What’s next?”

“Do you prefer to give or receive?”

“Who doesn’t love to receive? That’s obvious. But me? I am a giver, 100%”

And he’s right. Hence why you’re able to use the memory of him going down on you as good masturbation material.

“I see.”

“I think I am a giver too.” You look down at your phone, “But who doesn’t love to receive?”

“You do give nicely.” Jungkook whispers, “Anyway what’s the next one?”

“Do you like sexting?”

“Fucking love it. I love the dirty words and pictures.” He admits.

“Yeah, me too.”

What would it be like to be texting Jungkook throughout the work day, sending one another your dirtiest fantasies and pictures to go along with it.

“I’ll read the next one now…If I came home from work stressed, how you do you relax me?” your eyes go wide when you realize, “Wait, pretends it’s asking about someone else. So a girl you’re with comes home from work stressed, how do you relax her?”

Jungkook is quiet for a few moments, he chews on his bottom lip and breathes out heavily.

“How would I relax you? I mean, some girl?”

“Y-Yes.”

“First, I would kiss you breathless.”

“You mean her.”

“Right. I would kiss her lips over and over, taking off one article of clothing at a time, sit her down on the couch while I make my way into the kitchen…pour her a glass of her favorite wine and hand it to her. Then I would kiss down her body, telling her sweet words. How much I love her, how much I missed her today, how much she means to me. I will kiss down until I am taking off her pants along with her underwear…” “And then?” you breathe out.

“Kiss her sweet, soft skin…taste her. Taste how fucking good she tastes. Eat her out while she sips on her wine…”

“Oh nice.” You laugh a little.

“Make her come all over my tongue, getting her drunk on her orgasm.”

“And her wine.” You point out.

“Yes, both. After she comes, I will kiss back up her body and hold her.” Jungkook releases short breath after the other. “Make her feel wanted.”

“That does sound relaxing…”

“You like?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe—”

“Next question is ‘What turns you on almost instantly?”

“Dirty talk.”

“I see.”

“What—”

“You have to answer too, remember?”

“My stomach being touched.” You admit. “How do you feel about toys?”

“Not against them, could be fun to try out.”

“I agree…how do you feel about blindfolds?”

“You answer first.” Jungkook says shyly.

“I’m into it.”

“Being blinded? Or blinding someone?”

“Both? Yes, both.”

“Fuck, me too.” He folds his arms behind him as he leans back further into the sofa.

“Both for you too?”

“Yes. It would be boring if I was only into one thing right?”

You laugh, “Yes, I think we think similarly.”

“Interesting.”

“Very.” You smile at him and he smirks, “Would you like to watch me touch myself?”

“Yes—”

“—Wait, like your partner, not me.” You both say at the same time.

“Oh, well yes.” Jungkook says again. “Watching your fingers travel down to your pussy, rubbing your clit…well, not you but you get my point.” He says, his breathing becoming heavy again.

“Oh. I would also like to watch you.”

“But not me.”

“Exactly.”

“Spit or swallow?”

“I like a girl who swallows.”

“I like to swallow most times and if I don’t swallow it’s because I’m letting the guy come on my face or my tits or—”

“God damn it, y/n.” Jungkook breathes out erratically. His hand goes to his crotch as he tries to hide his growing member.

“Rough or sensual?”

“Fuck. Both, definitely both.”

“I agree. Why not both all the time?” you squeeze your thighs together again as you watch Jungkook shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch.

“Would you let me pleasure you as you drive? I mean, your partner. Sorry it’s just the way the questions read…”

“Yes. I would.”

“Seems a bit unsafe…but I would give it a try.” You say, “Do you like your hair to be pulled?” you ask with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Fucking love it.” He admits between heavy breaths, “But I like to pull hair too.” He winks.

“I do too, but I prefer being the one pulling.” You wink back. “Are you quiet during sex?”

“I—I don’t know…Am I?” Jungkook looks into your eyes, and you blank. Is he actually referring to the time you two had sex? Without him getting weird? “You aren’t the quietest.” You admit, “But it’s so fucking hot.”

“Well, you definitely aren’t quiet.” He says, “Can barely touch you and you’re already whimpering out.”

“Depends who the guy is.”

“Well, when it’s with me…sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up.”

“Right…” your fingers find their way into Jungkook’s hair, “But why not?”

“y/n…” he warns and you chuckle.

“What?” you decide to play innocent. “It was so long ago, Jungkook. We should be able to talk about it by now.”

But Jungkook can’t. Because although it’s almost been 4 years, it’s still so fresh for him. Not just the feeling of being inside you but the emotional shit he was feeling too.

“I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only about that night,” Jungkook decides to say, his hand goes to yours and gently places it back in your lap. “It felt so fucking good.” He whispers out and you feel all the heat in your body rush to your aching pussy.

“Oh.” You breathe out erratically. “I guess, I would have to agree.”

“Should we sleep soon?” Jungkook leans back as he asks you this.

“Don’t you want me to share one thing about that night?”

“…Sure.”

“You…felt so…good…inside me…” you say between deep breaths.

“You felt even better, y/n.”

It’s Saturday morning, and you find yourself waking up on the couch, a big blanket draped around your body and you can’t help but snuggle into it, not wanting to get up quite yet.

On the other side of the couch is a still sleeping Jungkook, his light snores filling your ears. You two didn’t even finish your wine last night, so you are waking up hang over free. The sun is shining today, it’s rays peeking through your window blinds and you want to throw the blanket over your head to hide yourself from the brightness but you decide to actually wake up and get up instead.

You throw the blanket off your body and on to Jungkook, who gratefully takes it and cuddles deeper into the covers. You stand up and head towards the bathroom to wash up, turning on a hot shower.

You wonder what you’ll be up to today, will you stay in? Go out? Hang with the girls? By the way, did they ever come home last night? You stop by Holly’s room to find it empty. Interesting, you guess they went to Trina’s.

The shower is ready for you so you slip in and let the warm water cascade over your tired body. You shampoo, condition and wash your body, when you hear insistent knowing on the bathroom door.

“y/n!!! I gotta pee!!” Jungkook’s worried voice is heard over the running water, “That’s it, I’m coming in okay?!”

And before you can respond, you hear the door being swung open and Jungkook lifting the toilet seat lid up and releasing himself. You fucking laugh. He literally says ‘Aaahhh’ for the same amount of time he is peeing.

“Fucking finally, I thought I was going to piss myself.” He says when he’s finishing up.

“Sorry.” You reply lamely. “Shower felt too good to leave.”

“Well, hurry up so we can go get something to eat. I’m so hungry!”

“Okay, okay.” And with that, Jungkook is leaving the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You finish washing up, stepping out of the shower and drying off. You quickly leave the bathroom in just your towel to head to your bedroom. Thankfully, Jungkook is on the couch watching some show on Netflix—too busy to notice your half naked state.

You get dressed in a rush, not wanting Jungkook to wait much longer for you. You settle for some jeans and a cute yellow shirt.

“I like yellow on you.” Jungkook says when he sees you. “Pretty.”

You are sure your cheeks are turning a nice shade of red at his compliment but you cover them with your hands to hide yourself.

“Thanks JK.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

520 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!”

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement.

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two.

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media.

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process.

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head.

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you.

��I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!”

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.”

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind.

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.”

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.”

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

548 notes · View notes

kidney9-9 · 4 years

Text

Give Me Your All - Tom Holland

Anonymous asked: heyyy, idk if your still taking requests but could I ask for a Tom smut??? It’s okay if not, just ignore this. But if so, could you write one where Tom has a massive crush on the reader and he’s touching himself to the thought of the reader and records it (moaning and all) , pretending that he was going to send it because it turned him on. But after he climaxes, instead of deleting the video he ACTUALLY sends it. You could take it form there, but yeah phew🥵

Hey there sweetie, hope you enjoy this oneshot of Tom Holland and Reader. Please read the warnings. This oneshot is childhood friends-to-lovers :) Let me know if you’d like a part two, I didn’t get to write everything I’d like to, because it’s already long :)

Tags in reblog, to join a taglist send in an ask or press the link in my profile. Masterlist is linked in my profile.

Tom Holland x Reader (Smut) Warnings: Smut, confessions of love, unsolicited nude video, swearing, nicknames (sexual and nonsexual), teasing, female recieving oral, mention of hand job, unprotected sex, talk of kinks, slight mention of hand kink, biting, some dominance fighting, choking/breath play and some dirty talk. Please do not read if any of these warnings made you uncomfortable, thank you :) Word Count: 7.4k

He’s been friends with you since forever, and he’s been in love with you since then. Your friendship was something he valued close to his heart as well, loving how you were kind to him and how funny you two would get sometimes. He remembers how the two of you met, back in kindergarten. You were playing near the slide, and you demanded people called you the Queen of the court. Being only five years old, everyone was confused, including Tom. He was the one to question you, and your explanation only made it more confusing, making him feel competitive though. He challenged you to a duel using sticks for the title of Queen of the court. You both ended up with bruises and scrapes, but giggled at each other, shouting dumb jokes about chickens and crayons.

You’ve been inseparable since then. You were there when he lost his first tooth and made a letter with him to the tooth fairy for a mighty amount of 1 trillion pounds. Tom ended up receiving one pound and an old copy of Toy Story. You both cherished that movie forever, claiming the tooth fairy loved giving cool movies to Tom, because every tooth he lost after that (until he realized the tooth fairy wasn’t real), he received old copies of movies and a few pounds. He remembered the crush he formed on you by age 11, how he would blush and call you a dumb girl when you’d compliment cute things about him, and then he would apologize and tell you how he thought you were a bit too cool to be a girl (which always led to funny arguments).

By age 16, he realized that it was much more than just a crush, watching you have your first kiss. It hurt him, and he thought it would be the end of the world because he was convinced you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore. Sure, he had his first kiss at 14, but it was a truth or dare game, and he didn’t like the other girl, but it still hurt to see you kiss someone else. He always wished that his first and last kiss would be with you.

And now, he knew for sure he was in love with you. So many years being close to you, but unable to make a move, it was tough.

It’s been hard, hiding his real feelings for you and watching as you would get your heart broken over again. He tried many times to get over you, to date random girls or just have hook ups, but it always ended the same- he’d end up thinking of you. He’d think of how you’d smile brightly to him when he’d make a stupid joke, or how you would nudge him during parts of a movie you found funny. Or when you’d giggle loudly when you’d accidently drop your phone multiple times a day, or when you’d wear his sweaters when you’re cold. He truly loved you, and when he learned to accept it, it only strengthened.

He’d find himself gazing down at your body at moments, and just wonder what it would be like if you were moaning and whimpering under him. He couldn’t count the times he’d catch himself with a hard on just by seeing you in his bedroom, where you two always hang out. He’d excuse himself quickly, rushing to the bathroom and he’d groan quietly, lecturing himself to stop thinking about you.

It rarely worked, and he’d sit with a hard on for hours as you laid back on his bed, scrolling through your phone as you talked to him, without a clue of what bulging pain he was going through.

He couldn’t help it today either, realizing he hadn’t seen you lately and he pulled up your text messages, to read what you two spoke about before. His cock stirred and twitched in his pants as your profile picture loaded on the screen.

It was one of his favorite photos of you, beautifully sat next to him, with your head tucked close to his neck and your lips barely touching his skin as you beamed. Fuck, it was too much. The adrenaline he would have when he’d jerk off, filming in the messages he had with you was addictive. It turned him on so much, it felt so real, that he would actually send it to you, and he could only dream that you would send one back- or even come to him.

Tom slipped a hand under his boxers, after he spit into his hand. It curled around his cock, gently bringing it out from his boxers and sighing in relief as he pumped it to life. His finger swiped over his tip, collecting some of the precum to slide down the rest of his cock. He pressed on the record button with his other hand, facing his cock and him as he moaned quietly at the start.

“Fuck,” He murmured, blinking slowly as he focused on the picture near his bed of the two of you. It was another one, different than the profile picture. You had your legs wrapped around his, in a game of twister the two of your played back on his latest birthday. He remembered the feeling of you so close, touching his bare legs with yours and he remembered your breathing hitting his skin, and he soaked in the memory, almost feeling you against him again.

“Y/n…” He moaned out, closing his eyes now, and his hand started to curl faster up and down, slapping all the way to his skin, savoring the sounds as if it was him pounding into you instead. Oh, how much he imaged your pussy clenching around his cock, soaking in juices and cum, and you’d be stuttering out his name, crying for more. The camera focused on his cock, picking up all the noises of his heavy breathing, and the sounds of his hand moving up and down at an increasing speed over his precum soaked cock.

“I need you so bad,” He whimpered, imagining you sat naked against his sheets while he walked closer to your figure. He’d pleasure you, first. He would beg to hear you moan his name; chant out swears while you’d cum all over his face. “Cum for me, be my good girl, you can do it.” He gasped loudly, head tilting back even more. Your pussy would pulse against his cock as he’d slide it sloppily against your clit to get you even more aroused and soaked.

Oh, fuck, just thinking of you wet made him hang right over the edge. “I- fuck, such a good girl, you can do it, I love you!” He cried out, hand shaking with his phone and the video still capturing the moment. His cock twitched with anticipation, leading up to his orgasm. Tom flicked his thumb over his tip repeatedly before slapping up and down with even more speed.

“Y/n, angel, please- fuck- you’re too good to me.” He whimpered, his cock finally spilling with cum, spurting out in long moments as Tom breathed heavily, keeping his hand on the base of his cock. He sighed, opening his eyes as he wished you were here.

He watched as his cock stopped coming, and he wiped up quickly, making sure he didn’t let any of it fall onto his sheets. He stopped the video, tossing the phone on his bed as he stood up slowly to go wash his hands. He took off his boxers, throwing them to a corner of his bedroom, and walked over to his bathroom. He tried to stop thinking of you, knowing he’d only be even more horny if he continued, and he would have to jerk off again.

His hands lathered in the soap and water and he didn’t care to dry them as he walked back to his bed. He gazed at the phone, trying to press out of the message app, but instead it froze causing him to groan. He irritated tapped at the screen, just wanting to delete the video and get out of the app.

But instead, it replayed the first part of the video, and Tom gulped in nervousness, quickly realizing what might have just happened. He turned off his phone in an instant, shakily pressing the home button again, and unlocking it to see the messages again. “Fuck!” He yelped out, seeing the video had sent to you and he froze as he saw you start typing back.

“No, no, no” He continued, as fear and panic stroke through him, knowing he fucked up completely now. “Shit, how do I delete this?” He groaned loudly, starting to breath unevenly and in a panic, as the video played over again, and he quickly wiped his hands onto his sheets, not caring that it got wet.

He started typing, in shock. He was writing apologies left and right, as tears started to burn in his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you, not like this. It was a mistake, he didn’t mean to do it, he wrote heartfelt, and with passion, trying to explain you were never supposed to see or know any of this. That it was wrong for him to take videos, moaning your name. Tears started to drop onto the phone screen as your message popped up.

“Are you at home?”

Tom gasped after he pressed send to the long apologies, quickly typing that, yes, he was at home. He continued to add an even longer sorry in the message, as he started to cry more. Just mere minutes ago he was moaning your name, now he was crying your name. He didn’t want to lose you; it would be terrible and unimaginable.

That was when his phone started to ring, with your name at the top. You were calling him, and his eyes widened in further shock, wondering what he should do. He hesitated until the third ring, pressing accept and putting you on speaker.

“Hello? Tom?” Your voice came through the phone, causing Tom to shakily sigh out. His face rested in his hands as he groaned muffled, “Hey…” He trailed off, trying to stop his crying and apologize again. He was sat on his bed without any of his clothes, and before he could continue, you spoke up again.

“Do you- are you alone right now?” You murmured into the phone, causing Tom to glance up confused. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he quietly answered you, “Yeah, I am. Listen, I’m really sorry, that was inappropriate and…” He paused as you cleared your throat.

Your question burned through his mind, “Did you mean it? That you love me?” Yes, he meant it, he swore he’s been in love with you so long. The fear that he felt as he opened his mouth to reply was harsh, but he knew that he needed to confess now or never.

That video was never supposed to be sent to you, but he knew if he finally got it out, then there would be some type of light feeling he’d have off his chest. He nodded, silently hyping himself up and pushing out the nervousness as he pulled his face away from his hands and squeezed at his thumbs.

“Yes, I love you.” He confessed, biting down harshly on his lip as silence went through the call.

Panic filled his thoughts and body as he heard you shuffle on the other line. “Y/n?” He whispered, staring down at the phone as he went rigid, wondering if he’s lost you now. Fuck, he wouldn’t know how to cope with losing you. Everything started with you, and you were his best friend. He didn’t care if he’d be hurt, watching you fall in love with someone else if that meant he could still be close and be your friend. But if he lost you, it would hurt the most.

“I’m coming over.” You responded, after those few moments that felt as if they were hours to him. He didn’t know what to do in that second, he almost forgot to breathe until you called his name again softly. “I love you too.” You whispered into the phone, hanging up as you got into your car and sighed out in shock.

Tom sat on his bed, naked as warmth spread through him. You love him back? The same way he did? He fell back onto his bed as one of the brightest smiles he’s ever had appeared on his face, love-doped by the fact his most desirable dreams were real- they came true. But he instantly shot right back up with a loud yelp. You were on your way right now, holy fuck. He glanced down to his figure in shock and stumbled up, rushing to his closet and tugging out new boxers. His eyes searched his closet for over two minutes, stressing about what to wear, and what the fuck was happening.

“Shit,” He pressed out, just tugging out an old but nice shirt he hasn’t worn in a few years. He buttoned it up and threw on his boxers and pulled out a pair of pants before groaning. It wasn’t a fucking business meeting, was it? No way, he pulled out a pair of dark jeans instead, slipping and tumbling as he pushed them on quickly.

You. Just you, he thought of. Everything about you was so amazing, and he couldn’t think of anyone or anything that was more flawless than you.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard you knock on the door and his eyes widened once more, rushing to the mirror and glancing down at himself, like he had pre-date nerves but much worse. He ran over to the door after a few seconds, and answered it, tugging the door completely open as you smiled softly to him.

“Hey,” You mumbled, smiling to him as Tom’s mouth opened up, but he had no idea what to say except, “Sorry! Again!”

You laughed back and shrugged. It was very surprising, shocking in fact. But also, just fucking hot, you watched it so many times, just hearing him moan out your name in such a way. You had so much to say and wanted to know- but it was still just incredible to you that he loves you like you love him. You can’t count how many times you’ve accidently moaned out his name when you were with your ex, but it just proved you love Tom so much.

When you developed feelings for him back in middle school, you quickly denied them. It didn’t make much sense at first, but you remembered seeing him in a different way. Noticing the strange but lovely things about him, how he tugged on his hair when he was bored, or nervous. And when he’d smile and look down, as if he was shy or insecure about it. You slowly started to start noticing these things about him, and you started thinking about him more, thinking about how something reminded you of him.

By high school, you thought he was your soulmate. Which wasn’t really a good idea to think. You’d be upset seeing him date other girls, and you tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t the one, that your soulmate was out there- and soon you just stopped believing in soulmates or even twin flames. Maybe the two of you were destined just to be best friends for life, which you thought back at the end of high school would be fine.

Something about Tom was that the had glow ups almost every month, it seemed impossible but each time you saw him, you’d be more attractive to him. Notice his dimples, and how his shoulders developed more muscle to them. Summer was always a mess for you, seeing him in his trunks, you couldn’t look anywhere at him without thinking of the things you wished you could do with him, but most of all you wanted to be with him.

Now with his video, everything seemed so complicated but easy to solve at the same time. You didn’t know what he was thinking though, and you wondered if you’d leave without a best friend, or even happier. You’d hope for the later, but it was up to whatever would happen now. You cleared your throat, as you stepped into his house, after Tom moved out of the way silent.

“Y/n…” He started, watching as you took a seat on the edge of the couch, facing him. You nodded back to him, biting your lip as your eyebrows knitted together in nervousness. Tom walked closer to you, choosing to take a seat on one of the chairs next to the couch.

“I’m really sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out- at all. I know that was just horrible, and I feel really bad.” He rambled, sniffling slightly as he waved a hand through his messy hair. You saw everything, it was so embarrassing, but he felt confused, after hearing you confess back to him. “Tommy, I- um, it’s okay.” You replied, nodding your head back to him.

He groaned, knowing it wasn’t. No one likes being sent videos like that without their permission, and to hear him say your name and what he was saying must’ve been the cherry on top. “And, I do love you, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I don’t want to lose you.” He went on, gazing at you softly and worriedly.

“You won’t lose me…” You trailed off, glancing around the room. “Unless you want to. I don’t want to lose you either, you’re my best friend and I love you- I’m in love with you too.” You whispered back, feeling your heart start to race. Tom blushed at your words, as his eyebrows raised.

“You really love me?” He questioned, starting to wonder if this was just all a dream. How many times have you said it now in the past hour? It was just all a shock to him now, but it was true, everything was. You giggled back at his question, watching a goofy grin pulled across his face, “Yes Buzz Lightyear!” You replied, laughing even more as Tom let out a loud laugh.

The nickname traveled all the way back to when the two of you watched Toy Story for the first time together. You told him he looked like Andy but acted like Buzz, to which he proudly stood up from the couch and shout, “To infinity and beyond with my best friend!” You quickly bounced next to him, standing on the couch excitedly, “We’re best friends?” You questioned. And that was the story of how you two got even closer, still watching Toy Story together even now.

You both watched Toy Story and lots of other movies together throughout the years. Constantly nicknaming each other by the characters. It was an inside joke you both played by, but you felt especially happy whenever he’d call you something. He’d nicknamed you Matilda after he saw you carrying three textbooks in the hallway and you usually stuck to calling him Buzz.

While you were laughing hard, Tom stood up from his seat, admiring your beauty while he walked over to you. You calmed your laughter, letting your face soften as Tom came closer, and you hoped off the couch, glancing to his lips for a few moments. Tom saw your movement, as he parted his lips and licked them gently. The thought of your perfect lips against his, he almost groaned.

His eyes also drifted down to focus on your lips, favoring the way they sparked in the soft sunlight. You were beautiful, always, inside and out, something he found wonderful. Your eyelids fluttered as Tom stepped even closer to you, where you can feel his breath his against your skin. You leaned up, tilting your head close to his as his hand gently grasped under your chin.

“I love you Y/n.” He whispered, closing the gap between the two of you, landing his lips against yours softly. You instantly responded to his kiss, closing your eyes completely now, as you felt yourself fluster with happiness and excitement. Your mouth opened slightly, letting your tongue out as the kiss deepened. His tongue warmed against your lips, licking them as you wrapped a hand around the back of his head, gasping slightly.

Fucking sparks.

It was perfect, his arm flew around to your back, pulling you closer to him as you tugged on his hair and played with it. You stepped closer to him, as the two of you started to kiss passionately, and his other hand drew down under your shirt, skimming your skin gently as you gasped at the coldness. It only led to him kissing you even harder, as he stumbled with you back around to his bedroom, knocking into random objects of the house.

He cursed as he pulled away, breathing deeply along with you and you pulled him in for another kiss, bumping into one of the floor lamps, causing you to giggle against his lips. You both clumsily and blindly walked back towards his room, still hitting walls and even a pile of scripts he had on the floor.

His hands now were both under your shirt, sliding up and down on your back, feeling your soft skin as you still had one in his hair, tugging it with more force now. Your other arm went down to his neck, circling shapes and pinching at times.

When Tom’s back hit against his bedroom door, you both pulled away for a few moments, taking deep breaths as he pulled the doorknob, opening to the room. He pushed the door opened quickly, before taking ahold of you again, groaning as your lips hit his, instantly opening as his tongue explored your mouth. You both stumbled into the room, but instead of going to the bed, he pushed you against the wall to get closer to your figure. He grunted, feeling his cock twitch again as he felt you grind against his leg, trying to heave yourself up.

Tom grunted, pulling away from your lips, but kept his head against the wall, pulling your body up as you jumped. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pushed your hips against his, moaning when you felt a spark of heat run through your body, filling up in your lower stomach. “Fuck Tommy,” You laughed out breathlessly, before pulling his head back to your lips, kissing him again. Tom hummed against your lips, letting his teeth bite down onto your bottom lip, causing you to gasp.

“Like it when I kiss you like that?” He muttered back to you, pushing into your body even more against the wall, causing you to shiver at the closeness. This was your best friend, the man you fell in love with over so many years, and now hearing him talk back to you made you want to roll your head back and moan. It was incredible, being with the person you’ve loved for most of your life.

“Oh, yes,” You responded, nodding as his lips kissed down your neck. Your hips jutted up against his again, causing Tom’s cock to stir completely up into a full erection. Earlier today he wouldn’t believe this would ever happen, but now it was and fuck, he was so in love and lustful.

He bit and nibbled at your neck, causing you to whimper as he licked and smoothed sweet kisses to calm your neck down. “Tom- fuck, babe.” You moaned, as he started to grind against you in a rhythm you found addictive, pushing your hips up to meet.

“Can you believe how long I’ve wanted to do this? See you crying out my name?” He pushed out after leaving a long lick onto your neck. Your eyes widened as his dirty talk turned you on even more, causing you to feel a pulsing at your core, wanting to feel even more of him.

“I wanted you like this too,” You confessed, out of breath as you slid a hand between your bodies, underneath his shirt. Your hand contacted his abs, causing you to shake with delight.

“Really?” Tom retorted, grinning as he gazed back at you as sweat started to pull at his forehead. You nodded back to him as he continued to dry hump against you. “Then show me.” He taunted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows before tugging his head back to yours again. You harshly bit onto his lip, swirling your tongue out after a moment while your other hand curled near his pants, cupping his hard on.

Tom gasped into the kiss as you started to unzip his jeans, making him groan against your lips. You grinned, loving the way he made those sounds, “Mm, pretty boy,” You mumbled, letting your lips disconnect, as you made your way to his ear. Tom clenched one of his fists up against the wall as you pecked messy kisses into his ear and tried pushing his pants lower.

He helped you out, but shivered as you moaned into his ear, “I’ve dreamed of you begging,” You paused, whispering now against his skin, under his ear and onto his neck, “Asking for my wet pussy,” Another pause.

Tom’s face was more than red at this point, as he realized his wishes were granted to him, and he thanked everything around him, but most importantly you in his head. “And hm, do you know who made me wet?” You murmured, grinning widely as you peeked at his face.

“I- I do.” Tom responded, instantly losing all his confidence as you slid your hand underneath his boxers. You licked your lips as your eyes widened, getting a feeling of his girth. Feeling excited, but still playful, you continued your talking, “Who is it? Is it my pretty boy?” You murmured to him, sliding your hand up and down while lightly gripping his cock, giving him a loose hand job to work him up.

“Y-yes, fuck Y/n.” He panted out, head rolling to the side as his legs started to go weak. You grinned even more, before pulling your hand away and grasping his stomach again. He groaned, pushing his hips forward and meeting your center again, as you wrapped your legs tight around him once more.

“You’re a fucking tease,” He cried out, as you bit his ear, moaning. You sighed out again, watching as his eyes fluttered at the feeling of your breath against his skin. “And you know what happens to teasers?” He continued, stuttering as you grinded down against him again. Fuck, he was pounding hard, and he needed to tug the rest of his jeans off.

“What happens?” You questioned back with an innocent tone. Tom pulled you off the wall without a second for you to process that he was kissing you now. You blinked momentarily before responding, wrapping your arms fully around the back of his neck to support yourself more. Tom grunted as he swung you around, licking at your lips as you let out a soft happy sigh.

He carried you across his room, still not to the bed, and instead to his bean bag chair. He moved his head away from yours, breathing heavily with lust doped eyes, “Get off,” He whispered to you, causing your arms to collapse and you grinned, falling back onto the chair. You sunk into it, and almost wanted to laugh at the size, but your attention was all on Tom, your best friend. You weren’t sure what else to call him, because you knew no matter what was happening now, he would always be your best friend, and you’d love to be with him any type of way, whether that be as friends or more.

“Well when you tease someone, darling, you should always expect it back.”

You felt the air leave your body as he slowly stripped his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers and shirt. You tried not to stare, but well, it was hard (both not staring and his clothed cock). Fuck, you gulped as Tom started to peel his shirt away, tossing it to one of the corners of the room. You quickly glanced that way as you noticed you started to feel shy.

Damnit, not the time to feel that way, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be perfect for him, he was the one you’ve loved for so long, one you’ve wanted for so long. You wanted to lay flawlessly for him, kiss him as he wanted, just make him happy, but you really wanted to just fuck him in the moment. Were you really into that “making love” thing? Where was the love if you would just sit and take his cock and not cum? Love and passion were two things that fit great together, and your shyness was threatening your desire to fuck Tom out of his mind.

Just as Tom finished taking his boxers off, he noticed your facial expression and instantly paused. “Y/n,” He started, whispering down to you almost nervously, “I- what’s wrong?” He asked, stuttering, wondering if he’d done something bad. He instantly started to swear himself out in his head as you glanced up to him with that smile of yours, the one he’d always recognize.

“I’m sorry…” You trailed off, groaning as you contemplated what to say. It was hard, you wanted to be everything for him, but you didn’t know what his everything was. He didn’t know yours either. You both needed to find out somehow though.

“What do you,” You cleared your throat, gazing up at Tom as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “What do- what are things you enjoy, or your kinks?” You mumbled out, scratching your leg as an odd habit as Tom furrowed his eyebrows.

“My kinks?” He repeated, as his gazed ran over your figure again. You nodded back, stretching back onto the bean bag chair as your arousal pounded with lust and restlessness. You could smell the sweat already, what it would be like to feel his skin against yours everywhere, how he’d pound into you and whisper things you’d beg to hear again.

Tom kneeled close to you, biting his lip as his hand reached out for your chin, tilting your head closer to his. “I like hearing everything, I like when I hear pleading,” He paused, gulping as your eyes flickered down to his lips. “I want to see you squirm with my hand around your neck,” He stopped as your lips parted in surprise and want.

“As long as you’re okay with that.” Tom whispered after a moment. You instantly nodded, pushing yourself up and kissing him again. Fuck, even though this was the first day of kissing him, you knew that you’d never get enough of it, always wanting more. His lips were something you adored for years, and now you can finally feel them, know their language, and you loved every bit of it. Your lips separated as his tongue slid onto your bottom lip.

“I love you so much,” You mumbled between the messy kisses as Tom fully started to move on top of you, onto the bean bag chair. Tom grunted into the kiss as you wiggled around while pulling him closer to you. “I love you too,” He sighed out, pulling away from your lips momentarily to gaze back at you, smiling.

“Take off your shirt, I want to see you.” He whispered, sliding his hand underneath the front of your shirt, feeling your skin against his palm. His eyes fluttered close as you grinded up again against his cock. You whimpered as he retaliated, pinching your skin. You rushed your hands to your shirt, tugging it off with Tom’s help.

You both broke the kiss as you tossed the shirt over your head, in a rush. Before you could kiss him again, Tom’s hand lingered over your bra, speaking up, “Wait, what are your kinks? What are you comfortable with?” His breath was hitting you again, as you blinked back surprised, he asked. You felt your breath hitch from his hand.

“I um, I like it when you touch me- anywhere. Fuck- it’s just your hands are just hot,” You rambled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tom smirked at your comment, pushing his hand down onto your bra again, causing you to sputter out a quiet moan.

“Why did we never do this before now?” He questioned, as he brought his other hand behind your back, lifting you up slightly. His fingers curled around the bra as you shuddered at the feeling, shaking your head, “I’m not sure, but I’m happy we are now.”

Tom smiled back to you, before kissing you again. His lips were hot against yours, warming your whole body as you felt your underwear dampen even more. You felt as though you two continued to sink into the bean bag and you grunted, wanting even more. “Fuck,” You gasped out, as Tom finally undid your bra completely and pinch at your skin again.

You shrugged out of the bra, causing him to gaze in awe, “You’re so beautiful,” He whispered. You sighed as he placed one hand onto a breast, squeezing it. “Tom,” You began, as you started to feel as though you couldn’t take it any longer. You needed him; it was bad.

“Please-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as he trailed his fingers down your stomach lightly, sliding it to your pants. Fuck, when you looked down, you felt everything heat up, seeing him clench his fist around the buckle to your belt, tugging it off. “Please what, darling?” He asked back.

“I need you now. In me.” You whined, lifting your hips up to take off your pants and to be closer to Tom. He raised his eyes back to you, shaking his head, “Mm, no, I’m going to savor this.” He murmured back, teasingly. You groaned, but quickly quieted down as Tom unzipped your pants, leading you closer to him. Your panties snapped against your skin as he slid his fingers near the elastic.

“I want to taste you,” Tom paused, whispering as he stood back up. You glanced down to his cock again and licked your lips, just imagining what he would taste like, since he brought it up. But the idea excited you even more, pooling wetness near your thighs now as you slipped off your pants smoothly and standing up close to him. “While you scream my name,” He finished up, pulling you close as your eyes widened.

“Fuck Tommy,” You responded, instantly leaning up to kiss him again. Oh, it felt so good to be bare against him, to feel his heat and fuck- his cock hitting against your stomach as well. He pushed you back against the bed finally, and you collapsed with a sigh as he dug his fingers into your thighs. You let out a whimper as his fingers trailed closer to your panties.

Tom let out a chuckle, watching you shiver, before he bit onto the cloth, tugging your panties down completely with the help of you lifting your hips up into the air, and with his hands. “Woah…” He breathed out, seeing your glimmering wet pussy. You gazed down at him with need, gasping as he blew air close to your hood.

His sweet lips found their way to one of your inner thighs, pecking your skin softly. His fingers twirled around on the other thigh, as he groaned, listening to your heavy breathing. His kisses became slower, and messier, leaving a trail of spit as he lingered closer to your center, breathing into you.

And finally, his lips collided with your core. You gasped, instantly rushing your hands to the back of his head, tugging on his curls. Your back arched as his tongue lapped long and fast stripes against you, leaving you no time to stop the loud cry of his name. Tom smirked against you, finding joy in your moans, and lapped his tongue against your clit over again, pressing hard.

You yelped, crying out again as one of his fingers urged into you, curling and soaking in your heat. “Fuck, you’re- how is your tongue so good?” You rambled out, tugging his head up momentarily to see his face.

Oh shit, it was covered in your slick, and you cried out again feeling him slip and stretch another finger into your pussy. Tom smiled before letting his tongue out, teasing you once more as he licked your outer lips now, instead of your clit. He headed towards your labia, carefully pressing slow kisses again.

“You taste so fucking delicious,” Tom paused, murmuring now against your clit. You moaned aloud from the vibrations it sent through your nerves. You couldn’t believe you were here now, with his head between your thighs, loving and admiring you so much.

“Bet you taste even better.” You responded, watching as Tom glanced back up to you, grinning. His eyes were darker than you’ve ever seen before, and you loved seeing this side of him now finally. “I think I can sit here and eat you out for hours. Everything about you is addicting.” He finished up, raising his eyebrows back to you as you whimpered at the thought.

You didn’t even have time to warn him about your orgasm, it rushed out of you, gushing against Tom’s lips and fingers as he licked you up again. “Tom- fuck- oh my,” You choked out, raising your hips against his face as his other hand grasped around your hip, digging into your skin. You came onto his face, causing him to soak it all up with his tongue, groaning at the taste in delight.

Your head hit back against the pillows again as you dropped your body completely, feeling as if you were floating. “That was,” Tom cut you off, kissing your hip slightly, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.” You let out a laugh, just in disbelief that you were finally with him, in the way you wanted. You shifted slightly, still feeling the effects of your orgasm drift through your body as Tom laid back next to you, kissing your shoulder gently.

You giggled quietly, “Yeah, it was great.” Tom smiled back to you, as you rolled to face him, kissing his nose for a quick second. As you gazed back at Tom, you instantly were reminded of his throbbing cock, as it hit against your stomach, making you gasp. You pulled him in for a deep kiss, causing him to groan, and stumble on top of you.

“I’m ready, are you?” You mumbled through the kisses, pulling and tugging at his hair. Your legs spread wider, gasping again when you felt him pull away from the kisses completely, as his cock barely brushed against your heat. “I am,” Tom responded, smiling back to you as his face softened. His hand grasped your face gently, as he propped himself up above you, lining his cock to your pussy.

“I love you so much,” He whispered, brushing his thumb to your lips briefly, before his entire hand drifted down towards your inner shoulder. Your eyes gazed up to his before you smiled back, “I love you too,” You mumbled back.

Tom started to push his cock in slowly, gazing back to you to check if you were alright, and you gasped as you felt his girth. “Oh…” You let out, furrowing your eyebrows together in surprise before you felt him push all the way into you. He grunted, before pulling back, to start his pace, “Are you okay, darling?” He asked softly, as he saw your face.

You nodded back to him, wiggling your hips, “Please keep going,” You responded, causing Tom to breathe in deeply, holding back his moan. You grinned back to him as his fingers caressed against your throat. You nodded back to his silent question, if it was alright for him to put his hand around your neck, as he slowly pushed in again, and you started to get used to the feeling.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper than before and you instantly let out a moan, feeling the heat build up in you again, during his rhythm. Your attention went back down to his hand, sighing as he grasped around your neck, fuck. You loved it so much, as he started to strengthen his hold, he kissed you again, as he pounded into you.

You kissed him back, groaning as his fist tightened again, and he pulled away from your lips, now going towards your cheek and leaving sloppy kisses. His other hand drifted in between the two of you, finding your clit again, and started to rub harshly causing you to gasp and moan out his name.

“You like that, huh? Louder.” Tom spoke up, gazing back to you in lust and desire, pounding into you even harder now. You gasped his name in return, moaning as you felt his fingers around your throat. Your head tossed back against the pillow, and you breathed in slowly against his hand, blinking dazed and in amazement. You almost felt too out of it, as airflow was limited now, but it felt good still.

Tom didn’t stop moving motions on your clit either, as his pounding started to go into an unsteady pace. He pulled away from your cheek and his hand away from your neck, now gripping at your hips harshly, groaning again. You shuddered as you felt him go even deeper than before and hitting your g-spot again. “I’m going to cum again,” You quivered out, feeling a tear run down your face from the rush of your orgasm building up, and Tom huffed back, grinning down to you.

“I’m going to as well,” He responded, eyes locked down onto your expression as his fingers started to go even faster, rubbing at your clit. “You’re doing so good darling.” Tom continued, praising you as his cock soaked in your pussy. You clenched around him, crying his name again, and bringing his face back to yours, kissing him again. You could taste your cum from before too, and Tom groaned into the kiss, as your legs squeezed around his figure.

You started to quiver as your orgasm pushed over the edge, and you gasped against his lips, losing your grip. “I’m co-” You couldn’t even warn him as you came out quickly, causing you to yell out his name, eyes fluttering closed as Tom continued to push into you.

It felt unreal, how the day had gone. With Tom above you, coming right after you and whispering his love for you. It made you want to scream into a pillow with joy, but you couldn’t find yourself letting go of Tom’s figure as he dropped besides you with that smile. You didn’t know what else to do but to hold onto him like you’ve been doing your whole life. He’s your best friend, and now perhaps a lover, a scenario you played in your head during daydreams for fun, but it’s real now. Your head tucked into his neck, as the both of you laid on the bed, sweating and covered in each other’s cum.

“Hey, Buzz,” You paused, barely mumbling his nickname while giggling. Tom gazed back down to you with a love doped expression, “Yeah, Matilda?” He answered, laughing along with you. His laugh made you beam even more with a happiness you couldn’t compare to any. You shifted slightly, capturing his gaze as his laugh quieted down. Your hand drifted up to his face, cupping his cheek softly as the words poured out from your lips.

“I really do love you.”

In a few quiet moments after, his lips rested against your forehead, “I’ll love you forever,” He confessed, closing his eyes as sleepiness rolled between the two of you. A hum went through your lips in agreement, cuddling closer to him as your breathing settled, fluttering your eyes shut with a smile.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader insert #tom holland/reader #tom holland/you #tom holland x reader smut

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peter-parcoeur · 4 years

Text

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Not Exactly a Loophole (but he'll take it)

Luka's got a crush on one of his regulars, but there's just one problem. His mom may not be big on rules, but when it comes to her bar Nanarchy's, the few she has are nonnegotiable--including the rule that employees are not allowed to ask out patrons. With Juleka also pining for a cute customer, Luka's determined to find a loophole...but the universe seems to have its own plans.

Rating: T (mostly for language)

This one is a belated birthday gift, but not for me--for the lovely @mamanabeille! It was meant to be a meet cute featuring EMT Marinette, but bartender Luka kinda stole the spotlight, so it didn’t quite come out like I intended, but I hope you all (and especially MA!) enjoy it anyway!

The bar was nearly empty the first time she walked in, but Luka was sure he would have noticed her in the craziest crowd. She paused in her approach to the bar when she saw him, but when Luka gave her a friendly smile and simply asked what he could get her, she came the rest of the way over and slid onto a stool, ordering her drink in a quiet, hesitant voice, pulling out her wallet..

“I thought Juleka was working tonight,” she said as he took her card and opened a tab for her.

“She will be.” He glanced at the clock. “In about an hour.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “An—“ She frowned, pulling out her phone, and then something seemed to click and she folded her arms, pouting, as he set up to mix her drink. Luka felt like pouting, too, over the fact that Juleka had seen her first. She was really cute.

“They told me the wrong time,” she grumbled. “Because they thought I would be late. Which means I nearly killed myself getting home to change and get back here for nothing .”

“Not for nothing,” Luka said easily. “Juleka’ll be here in an hour. We’re not busy, I don’t mind if you camp out. You look amazing, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss you.”

She looked a little confused for a moment, and then her eyes went round and she touched her fingertips to her soft red mouth. “Oh, n-no, I’m not, uh—I mean I don’t um—“

Luka winked at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell her anything.”

“Rose!” she squeaked, waving her hands so frantically that Luka instinctively slid her drink out of the way. “I’m friends with Rose! She wanted to come while Juleka was working, and I had a—a bad experience at the bar I used to go to, and she said that kind of thing doesn’t happen here, and a bunch of us were supposed to meet up so Rose could fli—TALK! To Juleka and the rest of us could have a drink and hang out in peace but they gave me the wrong time because I’m late for everything, but for once I’m not late and now I’m stuck here with you and—“ She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked so horrified that Luka could only laugh.

“Well, Rose is right, we don’t allow any kind of disrespectful behavior here, my mom’s very strict about it. She values Nanarchy ’s reputation as a safe space and she’s very particular about it. I promise you, being her son wouldn’t excuse me from an ass-kicking if I was inappropriate with you, or stood by while anyone else was, so feel free to hang out and wait for your friends.” He picked up another glass, flipped it in his hand before scooping it full of ice, and then he filled it with water and set it in front of his reluctant customer. “My name’s Luka, just let me know if you need anything.”

He lingered long enough for her to smile tentatively back at him, and then busied himself far enough away from her that she wouldn’t feel crowded, setting up the wells and making sure everything was stocked and topped off before the rush started.

Marinette nursed her drink and pouted, annoyed with her friends for wasting her time this way. Sure, she was always late, but her job was demanding and she wasn’t always in control of when she was able to leave. She couldn’t just ditch Adrien to handle it all, that would be mean. As it was, she’d been late leaving her shift today, and she had scrambled home to get home and get herself presentable and get here in time.

Then she walked in, triumphantly on time and not even in her work clothes, and those losers she called friends weren’t even here! And then she got all confused and tongue-tied and practically preemptively accused the cute bartender of harassment, even though in two minutes of conversation she could tell that he wasn’t anything like that guy that ran Graham’s and—

She groaned quietly and dropped her head on her arms.

Luka didn’t look back at her, but there was a slight quirk of his lips and the tiniest motion of his head in her direction that said he knew she was watching him. He set the two handful of beers he had just picked up on the bar in front of him and dipped a hand in his back pocket, coming out with a bottle opener spinning on one finger. He flicked the caps off the bottles in quick succession and then with another twirl, the bottle opener went back to his pocket like a six-shooter into a cowboy’s holster in some old western. Marinette giggled, and only then did he tilt his head in her direction and wink.

Marinette squeaked and buried her suddenly red face back in her arms. She was pretty sure she heard a low chuckle from down the bar.

Juleka walked in about forty-five minutes later. She took one look at Luka and asked, “What happened?”

“Hmm?” Luka looked up at her from where he was slicing limes.

“That’s the dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your face,” Juleka commented as she tied her apron on. “And that’s saying a lot. What gives?”

“Nothing,” Luka said, resisting the temptation to squirt her with lime juice. It was too early in the evening to escalate that far. “I’m just in a good mood.”

Juleka’s eyebrows raised. “You’re always in a good mood. You don’t always grin like a dope.” Luka opened his mouth to say something rude when they were both distracted by a surprisingly strong but very feminine voice carrying the length of the bar.

“Luka!” Both of them looked down the bar to the pretty dark-haired lady waving at him (and wincing slightly as she realized how loud she’d been), and Luka’s grin grew wider as he waved a hand to acknowledge her.

“I’ll get it,” Juleka said as he reached for a towel to clean his hands.

Luka took a step back to block her from getting around him. “Oh no you don’t. She’s my customer.”

Juleka blinked at him in surprise and then smirked. “Oh. I see.”

“You see nothing,” Luka told her, tossing the towel at her face as he made a beeline down the bar. “Back off. You can serve their table later, but while she’s at the bar, she’s mine.”

“Never knew you were so possessive,” Juleka muttered, moving the towel aside with two fingers and dropping it into the dirty bin with a gesture of distaste.

“Laugh it up, I’m gonna get you back soon,” Luka called back, and turned to his customer. “Doing all right? What can I get for you?” he asked, smiling as he leaned his hands on the bar in front of her.

“My friends are almost here,” she said, setting her phone on the bar where he could see the message chain. “I was going to go ahead and order for them if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luka said, looking at the list of drinks. When he was sure he had the order, he leaned back and smiled at her. “You can go find a table if you want, I’ll get the drinks ready and have Juleka bring them to you.” He winked, and she giggled.

“That would be perfect. And...thanks, Luka,” she smiled, blushing a little, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “My name’s Marinette, by the way. Which...you actually probably knew, because you opened my tab, um...”

“I did,” he grinned, and began setting up glasses on the bar top. “But it’s nice to hear it from you.” Marinette gathered her things slowly; she’d spread out across the bar as she’d waited, with pens and a small notebook and a set of index cards with neat notes scattered across her part of the bar.

Luka pulled his mind to the task, picking up a jigger and flipping it in his hand. Realizing that Marinette was still watching him, he poured some liquor and then gave the jigger a flip around his hand as he made eye contact with Marinette. He had to chuckle when her eyes widened slightly and her face flamed up red. She forgot all about picking up her things as she watched him mix the drinks, and he struggled not to show off too much, amused at her fascination. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and began picking her things up haphazardly. She reached for a pen, but knocked it with her fingers, sending it spinning off the back of the bar.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—” she exclaimed just as Luka’s hand snapped out and caught it before it could fall to the floor. Fortunately he hadn’t been holding anything liquid at the time, and he hastily picked up the shaker he’d dropped on the bar and set it back upright before handing Marinette her pen back.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “No big, Marinette. Relax.”

She was staring at him, her blue eyes round, and slowly she took the pen back from him. “Thanks,” she whispered, and shrank a little, tucking the last few things in her purse.

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled. “Seriously, Marinette, you’re here to unwind. Don’t sweat the small stuff, okay? No pressure here. Just take your time.” He flipped a shaker up over his shoulder and caught it behind his back, and Marinette put her chin in her fist and pouted again.

“How do you do that?” she asked enviously. “I’m such a klutz when I’m not focusing.”

“Practice,” Luka shrugged. “I’ve been working here since I was old enough to be behind the bar, so. It’s not really anything special, but it makes pretty girls smile, so…” He grinned at her, and then motioned behind her. “Table six is the quietest, over there by the wall. I’ll have the rest of these done in just a minute, and—”

“Marinette!” someone squealed from the door and Luka chuckled.

“—And there’s your friends,” he said, as Marinette turned and waved.

She turned back and gave him a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Thanks a bunch, Luka, really. You’ve been great.”

“Any time,” he barely managed to answer, and had to swallow quickly afterwards. He mixed the rest of the drinks on autopilot, his eyes darting back to Marinette as she and her friends settled at their table. He saw the petite blond with her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers, and a quick glance down the bar showed him Juleka standing as if she had been hit in the back of the head with a board, a faint rosy color tinting her pale cheeks.

Luka grinned and loaded the cocktails on a tray before carrying them down to her. “These are for six,” he told her, and she looked at him stupidly. Luka smirked. “You know that saying about people who live in glass houses?” he grinned, nudging her arm before he headed back to the next customer waving for his attention. “Don’t drop anything,” he called back, and heard Juleka snort.

***

Girls Night was no longer the trial that it used to be. Marinette loved everything about Nanarcy’s . Their aesthetic was cool and unique, their atmosphere was fun and chaotic in a controlled way, their live music nights were amazing, and they didn’t overpour, so everybody was only as drunk as they wanted to be at the end of the night.

And their bartenders were hot. Rose was head over heels for the quiet, dark-haired Juleka, and Marinette was pretty well smitten by the kind, gentle man with the shaggy hair and the soft eyes, who never seemed to take offense no matter how many times she put her foot in her mouth. She’d never been as early as she had that first day, but she did rush just a little to beat the girls there, so that she could sit and talk to Luka for a bit before the rush hit.

He was just so nice , and easy to talk to, and perceptive, and she always relaxed after a few minutes in his company.

Unfortunately Marinette couldn’t be early all the time, and the girls were already at their table and there was already a crowd at the bar before she arrived.

She stood on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd, and saw Luka about the same time he saw her. He flashed her a broad grin that set butterflies wild in her stomach. She gave him a small wave and then formed her fingers into a d, their sign that she was the designated driver tonight. She saw him nod, and started working her way through the crowd to the bar.

Luka picked up his napkin and did that funny flick with his fingers that sent it spinning onto the bar right in front of her. Marinette really wanted to know how he did that, but his hand moved so fast she couldn’t follow it no matter how many times she watched him. She saw him chuckle at her pout as he flipped a tumbler in his hand, filled it with ice and soda water, and then set it on the napkin. “Good to see you, Marinette,” was all he had time to say, but his warm, smooth voice still made her melt a little on the inside.

She lingered at the bar for just a moment, watching him joke and banter as he flipped and spun bottles and tumblers and shakers, dropping them to catch behind his back, his movements all smooth and practiced. He’d told her once that what he did wasn’t actually that hard, but it still looked like magic to her. It had surprised her at first; he’d struck her as a quiet, laid-back kind of guy, not someone who enjoyed crowds and attention—but then she’d seen him play with the band one night, and understood. Luka might be quiet on his own, but in front of an audience, he was a performer, and if she’d thought what he did behind the bar was impressive, seeing him on stage with his guitar was, well...breathtaking.

For all that flash, though, it was watching him shake a drink that made her go weak, eyes glued to the lines of his arms and the slight smirk on his face. Marinette picked up her soda and headed back to the girls’ table before she could embarrass herself by swooning on the bar. The girls gave her knowing looks when she arrived, but other than the smirks, they left her mercifully alone about her increasingly obvious crush.

Marinette felt fortunate that Rose was more fun to tease (and safer; Rose didn’t flail and knock over drinks when she got flustered). Rose blushed and denied and then gave herself away by sighing dreamily as she looked at the tall girl behind the bar. Marinette couldn’t help covering a snicker with her hand, though as her gaze followed Rose’s, her traitorous eyes snapped straight to Luka.

He seemed to be in some kind of one-up contest with his sister, the grin on his face positively wicked as he balanced a cocktail on a bar spoon on his forearm—which required to him to keep his arm flexed in a way that made the normally subtle swell of muscles along his arm much more obvious. Marinette groaned and leaned on Rose, who was peeking through her fingertips and trying not to squeal as Juleka rolled her eyes and set up a row of glasses in front of the bar. Twirling a bottle in each hand, Juleka smirked at Luka. Luka was good, but Juleka obviously outmatched him in this context. She was herself beautiful and elegant, with her hair tied back in a thick braid and perfectly done makeup that highlighted her fine bone structure. Her features were a little rounder than Luka’s sharp angles, and she was tall and slender without being as lanky as Luka. The pair of them together were unfairly attractive.

Juleka’s motions at the bar were fluid and graceful, without any wasted movement, and she was fast . She filled the cocktails on the bar in front of her, mixing them up first and then stacking the shakers to pour all four glasses at once. Then she turned to Luka, plucked the glass off of his spoon with a lifted eyebrow, and set it on her tray, swinging it up onto her shoulder. Luka made a laughing gesture that was clearly I surrender , and Juleka smirked as she went around the side of the bar.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rose swooned into Marinette’s side, and Marinette smiled, bumping her shoulder into Rose, who just flopped in the other direction to drape herself over Mylene and sigh some more. Marinette gave her friend an affectionate look, and then tried to school her expression as Juleka appeared at their table, setting cocktails in front of them with practiced ease and a quiet, “Welcome back,” with a subtle smile. Her eyes, though a different color, were as intense as Luka’s, and Marinette thought they stayed focused on Rose for a beat longer than the others. Then Juleka’s gaze flicked to Marinette’s drink and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Refill?” she asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said automatically, and Juleka nodded. Those amber eyes flicked back to Rose as she set the last cocktail down in front of her. “Enjoy,” was all she said, but there was a subtle quirk of a smile to her lips, and Marinette could feel Rose freezing like a deer in the headlights at her side. Then Juleka was gone again, her heavy braid swinging behind her, before Rose could even think of anything to say back.

“Ooh,” Rose moaned, frustrated, grabbing her drink.

“Next time,” Mylene said consolingly, patting Rose’s arm. “It’s busy here tonight. I’m sure she’ll be back when there’s more time to chat.”

That was true, Marinette thought, but still...they’d been coming here for weeks and things didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She’d thought Juleka was interested but maybe…

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, picking up her glass and sliding out of her seat. “I think I do want a refill.”

“It just tastes better when Luka serves it,” Alix snickered, and Marinette pretended not to hear her as she made her way to the bar. She needed some answers, and maybe it was time to try the direct approach.

Luka was hopeless, he knew, watching Marinette’s table out of the corner of his eye even as he teased Juleka. He didn’t care if it made sense or not; he was crazy into the girl, and her mere presence made him feel more alive.

Juleka snatched his cocktail and Luka had to move quickly to catch the bar spoon and dump it in the bin. He waved Juleka off with a laugh and glanced back at the table again where Marinette was consoling her little blond friend, who was clearly suffering after Juleka’s display. That only made him grin wider.

Luka allowed himself one lovesick sigh. Marinette was so beautiful, and he loved the way she put so much individuality into the way she dressed, and the contours of the muscles in her arms as she waved them about, talking with her hands. She was funny, and she was sweet, and she was smart , and every time she came in he entertained fantasies of quitting on the spot, confessing his love, and running off with Marinette in the rain (he wasn’t sure why it was always raining in his fantasies, but it seemed to fit her for some reason). His mom would probably forgive him. Eventually.

Juleka would kill him though, and besides, he liked his job and he got to see Marinette almost every week. And...maybe he was a little bit chicken. Just a tiny bit. There was every chance that instead of falling into his arms and agreeing to run away with him, Marinette would be startled and freaked out and run away without him, and then he’d be out of a job with a broken heart in the bargain. Just because she liked joking around with him, and watching him (because he definitely didn’t miss her eyes on him, with as often as his were on her), didn’t mean she was interested in the reality of dating him—especially if he were suddenly jobless.

So the fantasies would stay just that for now.

Ugh, sometimes he really wanted to...hug his mother in a bone-crushing but loving way and tell her that for someone so hung up on freedom, her rules were a righteous pain in his ass.

That would probably get him fired too. If you fire me, I’ll have to come live back at home with you , he mentally argued with his imaginary mother, but it didn’t work any better in his imagination than it would have in real life.

Unfortunately Juleka didn’t seem to be having any better luck than he did. Luka had a half-formed plan to call in a favor so he could get Juleka cut early, so that she could run into Rose on her way out and get around Anarka’s rules that way, when he was startled out of his thoughts by someone calling his name.

Luka was moving down the bar to smile at Marinette before he’d even fully processed that she was calling him, but the crease between her brows made him hesitate slightly.

“Juleka didn’t get you a refill?” he asked, but Marinette shook her head.

“I told her I didn’t need one, and then I changed my mind.” She set her glass on the table and nudged it towards him. “Also...well, I want to ask you something.” She shifted uncomfortably, and Luka swallowed as if that would keep the sudden butterflies in his stomach confined there.

“Anything,” he said glibly, with a smile that showed no trace of his nervousness. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s just...do you think…” She glanced up at him shyly, and looked down, cheeks pinking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the counter and lowered his head, cocking it slightly to show he was listening. His fingers laced together and squeezed tight in front of him.

“Does Juleka like Rose?” Marinette asked, glancing nervously back at their table.

Luka blinked. “Ah…”

“Before you answer,” Marinette said quickly, turning back to him. “It’s just that Rose really, really likes Juleka, but Juleka hasn’t...well she does flirt some, but Rose isn’t sure, and...I just don’t want to be encouraging her to pursue something hopeless, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me now if Juleka’s not interested in her. I won’t say anything to Rose, not directly, I just...if it’s not going to happen, I can maybe get her to—”

“It’s not hopeless,” Luka interrupted, trying not to laugh, though whether at his own stupidity or Rose and Juleka’s, he wasn’t sure. “It’s definitely not hopeless. The only thing hopeless is my poor little sister.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, and then smiled. “Okay then. I’ll tell Rose not to give up?”

“Definitely not,” Luka confirmed, straightening. “But we’re not allowed to ask out customers, so she’s either got to catch Juleka on off hours or make the first move herself. Mom’s a real stickler about it. I’d get in less trouble for being high on the job than hitting on a customer.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. I...I guess that makes sense. And Rose hasn’t wanted to be creepy if Juleka was just…” She blushed, surprisingly intensely. “You know, being nice because it’s her job.”

Luka snorted. “Juleka’s not nice.”

Something hit the back of his head and Luka straightened to find Juleka glaring at him. “What are you saying about me, jerk?” she demanded, and Luka rolled his eyes, looking back at Marinette.

“See?” he grinned.

“Shut up and move,” Juleka grunted, shoving his arm until he stepped aside for her to get by.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he called after her, and she turned her back to the bar and flipped him off where only he could see.

“Rude,” he chuckled, and focused back on Marinette. “Look, I can’t speak for her, but as her brother...I don’t think your friend has anything to worry about, yeah?”

Marinette gave him a dazzling smile. “Thanks Luka. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” he grinned automatically.

“Send us another round for the table when you get a chance?”

“Sure. I’ll have Jules drop it off.” He winked at her, and her smile got even brighter.

“Perfect.” She gave a happy little bounce before she hopped off the stool and went back to the table. Luka watched her go, and saw her look back at him over her shoulder. He sighed.

“Dumbass,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he turned away to get their drinks ready.

Well, at least Juleka would be happy. If Rose still felt weird about asking her out, he could still try and get Juleka cut early the next weekend. Victor was always asking for more hours, surely he’d do Luka a favor if it meant weekend night tips…

Not that that helped Luka any. He looked back towards Marinette’s table and sighed.

Well, he’d get his own chance eventually—or he’d make one, if he had to.

***

“I’m missing girl’s night,” Marinette huffed, throwing herself behind the wheel. She was missing seeing Luka, she thought petulantly. Her one night a week to see him and she was missing it because Adrien had said something stupid to the person resonsible for their schedules, and she was his partner, so she was guilty by association.

“I said I was sorry,” Adrien sighed, hauling himself up into the passenger side of the ambulance.”

“Say it again,” Marinette grumbled.

Adrien groaned, slumping into his seat. “I promise that I have never in my life been more sorry than I am at this moment, facing this whole shift with you in this mood.”

Marinette glared at him, but the radio called their attention.

Their first few calls were simple enough, but the next one made Marinette suck in her breath sharply.

“What?” Adrien asked, looking at her.

“That’s my girls’ night bar,” Marinette breathed. “26-year-old male…it could be Luka...”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to pass it on?” he asked, not unkindly.

Marinette shook her head. “Nobody else is even close. Let’s go, but you take lead if it’s—if it’s someone I know.”

“It’s probably not,” Adrien reassured her, flipping on the lights and sirens.

Marinette made a noncommittal noise, trying to ignore the cold weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Adrien put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed—and then braced himself as Marinette pulled out into traffic.

When they walked into the bar, they had to shove their way through the crowd that had formed in a ring being kept back by a man and a woman wearing shirts that identified them as security.

“Marinette!” Rose cried, waving at her with one hand, and for an instant, Marinette froze.

Luka was sitting in a chair, looking dazed. He kept trying to get up, but Juleka shoved him back down with one hand. Rose was pressing a blood-stained towel to his head.

“Oh no,” Marinette murmured. Adrien squeezed her arm, and then moved past her, his stride purposeful. Marinette pulled herself together and followed, pressing her lips together. This was her job, after all, and she was good at it. It was just another call, and Luka would be fine.

Luka was confused as hell, and his brain didn’t quite feel connected to his body. He was vaguely aware that his head hurt, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of what was going on. He’d woken up on the floor, and then he’d nearly fallen when he tried to stand, and Juleka had shoved him into a chair and fluttered over him, alternately swearing at him and sounding at the edge of tears, and Luka still had no idea what was going on.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what happened,” snapped Juleka. “We have bouncers for a reason , dumbass.”

“Bouncers?” Luka asked, bewildered. He blinked, trying to focus and clear the fog from his mind. The room didn’t seem to want to be still. It wasn’t spinning, exactly, just tilted to the left slightly. A flash of white crossed his vision and he focused on it for a moment, and then blinked again, still confused and sure he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. “Marinette?”

“Hey, Luka,” she smiled, leaning over him.

Luka grinned. “Hi.” Then he frowned. “Thought you were working tonight.”

“I am working,” Marinette said gently, pulling something out of her breast pocket, and Luka vaguely registered that the white he had seen was some kind of uniform shirt. Then he jumped slightly and blinked as she shone a light in his eyes. “He lost consciousness?” she asked, but then Luka was distracted from Marinette as someone else took his arm. He blinked down at a blond man that had knelt next to his chair and was pulling... stuff out of a bag beside him.

“Yes,” Rose confirmed from somewhere behind him.

“Luka, was it?” the blond man asked. “I’m Adrien. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Kentucky sunrise,” Luka muttered. “Told Jules to keep an eye on the guy, he seemed shady.”

“He was shady,” Juleka said, fingers squeezing on his shoulder. “He got nasty and I told him to leave, and he grabbed me, and then this idiot jumped the bar to come get involved and—it’s kind of a blur after that, but he got Luka in the head with a glass or a bottle or something.”

“Where’s the guy now?” Marinette asked.

“Ivan’s got him in the back, waiting for the cops.”

Luka tried to follow the conversation, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate for very long. Adrien started asking him questions, and Luka’s world greyed out a bit as he tried to focus enough to give the right answer. They seemed like really dumb questions, and Adrien kept touching Luka’s head where it hurt. Luka tried to push his hands away, but Marinette caught Luka’s hand and squeezed it tight. Luka looked back at her, focusing on the cool blue of her eyes. She asked him something, but he didn’t quite catch it.

Fuck, he was tired. He just wanted to get somewhere quiet and dark and less peopled and go to sleep.

Marinette’s hand on his cheek brought him back to reality a bit. She was frowning. “Luka, do you feel sick?”

“No,” Luka sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Just tired.”

“Luka,” Marinette said sharply, and he opened his eyes again. “Don’t go to sleep, okay?”

Luka whined, but tried to keep his eyes open. He leaned his head on Juleka’s stomach, and felt her hand stroke gently through his hair. He must really be messed up, he thought with mild amusement, for Jules to be that gentle.

“I think we better take him in for evaluation,” Marinette said to...someone. “He’s definitely got a concussion, and that head lac needs stitches.”

“Agreed,” said Adrien, and Luka began to lose the battle to stay awake. “Come on, stay with us.” Someone squeezed Luka’s arm, and Luka struggled to open his eyes again.

Luka lost track of what was going on after that, moving mechanically when someone asked him to and just trying to stay awake. The only thing he really registered was Marinette leaning over him in the back of the ambulance, stroking his hair back from his face and looking at him with such softness that his breath caught even through his fog. “I’ll drive,” she said. “Take care of him for me.”

Luka was confused until Marinette disappeared from his side and Adrien settled in next to him instead, a faintly amused look on his face. “She must really like you,” Adrien commented under his breath. “She hates to give up the action and drive.”

Luka smiled weakly.

***

The hospital was a confused sequence of waiting rooms and big noisy machines, but as they sat through it all, Luka began to regain some focus and clarity, and by the time they came to tell him that he was fine, he pretty much was, aside from the throbbing in his head where they’d stitched the wound closed and the anesthetic was wearing off.

“We’re going to keep you the rest of the night for observation,” the ER doctor told him, “But unless there’s any sudden changes, you should be good to go tomorrow. Just take it easy for the next few days.”

Luka didn’t bother to argue since the night was mostly gone anyway. All he really cared about was getting to a bed, now that they had cleared him to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Juleka was sitting next to his bed.

“Hey, dummy,” she said, when he turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” he sighed. “Can I go home yet?”

Juleka snorted. “Knowing hospitals, it’ll take all day just to fill out the paperwork to get you out of here.

Luka made a face. “Probably true, actually.” He sighed and laid his head back, lolling it over to look at her. “Tell me you at least got a date out of it.”

Juleka blushed, and dropped her gaze, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “She’s a nurse at this hospital, do you know?” Juleka mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. “She stayed with me the whole time they had you doing all those tests. We’re...having dinner tonight when she gets off work.”

“Awesome,” Luka grinned, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

Juleka took a moment to collect herself, and then she lifted her head and grinned at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

“God I wanna marry that girl,” Luka groaned, smiling dreamily. “Gorgeous and smart and funny and a badass. This is it. I’m totally gone for her, Jules.”

Luka didn’t need to see Juleka’s smirk, he could hear it in her voice. “What else is new?” she snorted.

Another memory surfaced and he grimaced. “I’m not sure puking all over her partner in the back of her ambulance made the kind of impression I was hoping for.”

“Don’t worry,” a male voice chuckled. “You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Luka and Juleka both looked towards the door. Marinette and her golden-haired partner were standing there in clean uniforms. Luka felt a sudden flutter in his stomach. The EMT uniform didn’t do much for her, compared to her usual perfectly tailored clothes, but...she looked strong and confident and in charge, and it was definitely doing things for him. Her hair was tied back and pinned up, but that just made her beautiful eyes more prominent, and the same smile tilted her sweet lips.

He suddenly remembered what he and Jules had been talking about. Oh God, did she hear him? Luka swallowed nervously.

Marinette gave him a little wave, her shoulders hunched slightly. “I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by,” she said shyly. “I— We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Adrien grinned broadly, clearly amused, and Juleka began to snicker. She leaned over and whispered to Luka, “Your heart monitor’s going crazy, dumbass.” Then she kissed his forehead. “Call me when they’re ready to let you out of here.” She walked away from the bed, and Luka realized too late that she was planning to leave him there with Marinette.

He registered about that time that the monitor behind him was indeed beeping frantically and felt himself flush. He fiddled with the clip on his finger, but if he took it off the nurses would come charging in, so he took some deep breaths, trying to get himself under control as Juleka stopped to exchange a quiet word and a hug with Marinette, with a quick handshake for Adrien.

Adrien and Marinette approached the bed and Luka reached up self-consciously to smooth his hair before remembering the bandage on his head. He extended his hand towards Adrien instead.

“Hey, man, I really am sorry for throwing up all over you,” Luka told Adrien. “I swear, I didn’t know it was coming.”

Adrien smiled ruefully as he shook Luka’s hand. “I’m used to it. Sometimes I think I have a target on my chest.”

“Serves you right for always wearing such expensive shoes,” Marinette huffed.

“They’re comfy!” Adrien protested.

Luka chuckled and looked at Marinette, taking in the uniform and trying to recalibrate his mental image of her to include this new information. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed like it should have been; she’d always had that something about her that said she could do anything, and she was certainly fit enough to be hauling people around, and the impulse to help people fit in with her sweet nature.

He really hadn’t thought he could fall any harder, but looking at her now—staring at her, he realized abruptly—he accepted that this hole was a lot deeper than he’d realized.

Marinette leaned over the side of his bed and reached toward his hair. “May I?” she asked, and at Luka’s nod, she parted his hair to peek under his bandage at the stitches. She was close enough that Luka could smell the faintest hint of sweet vanilla even past all the medical smells. The monitor began to beep warningly again and Luka thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Her fingers skimmed his cheek as she lowered her hands. “It looks good. You probably won’t even notice it with your hair covering it.”

“Thanks,” Luka said stupidly, not really sure how one was supposed to react to a compliment on how well one’s head was sewn back together.

“How do you feel?” she asked, straightening a little.

“Not too bad,” Luka shrugged. “Still have a headache, but it’s much better.”

Marinette frowned. “What are they giving you for pain?” She looked at the board in his room without waiting for him to answer, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, that should fade soon, hopefully. As long as your imaging came back normal—” Luka nodded. “—it should just be a question of paperwork.” She laid her hand over his and squeezed. “You should be back behind the bar in no time. No more fights though, okay? You scared me, when we got the call for your address.”

“Sorry.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t wishing to see you, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Marinette giggled, her eyes darting away and her teeth catching her lip for a moment before she looked back at him, a bright smile slowly growing across her face. For a moment they just stared at each other. Adrien raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets, wandering back across the room.

Luka barely noticed. Marinette was looking at him and he had never seen her eyes so soft before. Except—except that one moment when she’d been leaning over him on the gurney, and she’d promised him he was going to be okay, and then she’d looked up at Adrien and said take care of him for me…

He was so transfixed by her eyes that he didn’t react to her leaning over the bed until he felt her hand on his chest and her breath on his face, and then he only had time to gasp and close his eyes as her lips found and caressed his in a soft and tender kiss. He leaned into it as much as he dared, and managed to move his mouth to kiss her back, electric thrills moving through him.

He followed her when she pulled back, and opened his eyes to stare at her in wonder as her lips left his.

“I’m dying,” he said flatly. “I’m dying and no one wants to tell me, is that it?”

Marinette giggled. “No more than everyone else.” Then she actually blushed and looked down. “I’ve maybe been thinking about doing that for a while now.” She glanced up through her lashes and a truly wicked smile slowly spread. “And trust me, when you actually are going to die, you’ll know it.”

Luka’s attempt at a reply became a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

There was a quiet cough from the other side of the room, where Adrien was turning red attempting to hold in his laughter. “I’m getting the feeling you didn’t actually need a wingman here,” he said.

“Take a walk, Adrien,” Marinette said in a warning tone, and leaned in to kiss Luka again. Luka moved to meet her, lips parting eagerly as he buried the hand not covered in wires in her hair, only vaguely aware of Adrien’s gusty sigh and the sound of the door opening and closing, or the rapidly accelerating beep of his heart rate monitor again.

Somewhere in the haze Luka realized he wasn’t on shift, and anyway Marinette had kissed him first, and Anarka’s rules didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Want to—mm—get coffee sometime? After they let me out of here.”

“I’d love to,” Marinette sighed, and kissed him again. She giggled. “You should have told me about that stupid rule sooner. All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.” She pulled back and blinked for a moment, and bit her lip. “Um. I should probably tell you that I told my boss you’re my boyfriend.” She shrugged. “If I start dating you after you’ve been my patient, it’s weird, but if we were dating before that, then it’s just unfortunate coincidence, so…”

“I’m cool with that,” Luka said quickly. “Very cool.” They grinned like fools at each other for a moment, and then moved to kiss again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Couffaine? We’ve been getting an alarm from your monitor—” She paused, taking in Marinette’s wrecked hair and two blushing faces. “Oh.”

Marinette giggled, hiding her face in his shoulder, and Luka groaned. “How much do I need to bribe you to turn that damn thing off for the next f—” he glanced at Marinette. “Ten minutes?”

The nurse rolled her eyes, but winked at them. “Just remember you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she admonished, crossing the room and unplugging the monitor from the wall. “If anyone asks, you’re in the bathroom.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka grinned as the nurse shut the door behind her, pulling Marinette back in.

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #birthday big bang

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

The Nearness of You - A Harry Styles One Shot

A friends to lovers one shot feat. birthdays, pining and stolen purses.

Hello, please enjoy this fever dream fic that came to me a week ago and is now somehow 13.5k and gracing your eyeballs. I’ve never written a one-shot of this nature before and it was quite a refreshing distraction from my usual, long-form fics. Thank you to Anne @oh-honey-styles for the encouragement (bullying) and for posting the pic that inspired it all. To everyone else, read on x katey *Because this is quite lengthy, I’d recommend opening in a browser because the Tumblr app can be glitchy*

My masterlist Chat to me here

“When you're in my arms And I feel you so close to me All my wildest dreams came true” The Nearness of You, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

You love the cold.

London in February isn't everybody's cup of tea, but you feel positively giddy walking down the icy Soho street in your new & Other Stories snow boots. The hard, black leather is already making your toes ache, and they're rubbing against the heel of your left foot, but they'll stretch to size, and you can tell these are going to be Your Signature Boots. The wind whips against your cheeks, red flushing them as you cross the laneway and push open the door to the chic little restaurant you've followed on Instagram for years but never had an excuse to try. Figures Harry chose it for tonight. Sometimes you wondered if the coincidences were a little too … Coincidental.

"Hi," you smile brightly to the maître d', "I'm uh … I'm here for the birthday? For Harry?"

Do I need to say his surname? You think to yourself.

"Can I have your name, please?" The suited man pulls a piece of paper out of the reservations book and waits for you to identify yourself. Your chest is rattling from the cold and the flurry of nerves you're all too familiar with ignoring.

"Y/N," you say your full name, taking in the dark floor of the restaurant, the flickering candles on the tables and lining the bar that takes up the entire left side of the room. The whole place is beautiful, just like you've double-tapped online; all deep reds and burgundies, vintage posters, and mismatched, dark wooden furniture. A jazz record plays just loudly enough to fuse the conversations at all the tables into one comfortable sound. It would make for a sexy place for a date, you decide, stolen touches under the table would feel thrilling and seductive.

The maître d' nods, you're on the list, "Back in the private dining room," he says, "Follow me this way."

You push your evening bag further up your shoulder and walk half the length of the bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You catch the bartender watching you as you go, he's cute, and you give him an awkward little wave before calling out ahead of you.

"Sorry, excuse me," you get the attention of the man leading you through, "Can you point me to where I need to go? I'm going to get a drink to take in first if that's okay?"

"Just there," he points to the doorway at the back, next to the kitchen pass, "The curtain on the right."

Thanking him, you watch as he walks back to his station by the front door. You turn to the bar and rest your hands on the cool wood. They've stuck the pages together of old Little Golden Books for the drink menus, but you'll be ordering what you always get on birthdays, so don't take in the beverage options as you flip through The Tawny Scrawny Lion. You remember it from when you were a kid.

The bartender moves to stand in front of you, a gleam in his eyes and flirtatious smirk on his face, "Pretty good read, that one. You have to order a drink though, this isn't a library."

You laugh, he's laying it on a bit thick but probably just after the tip, "I was more a The Poky Little Puppy sort of girl."

He gives you a grin of approval, flipping a napkin up onto the bar in front of you, "What can I make for you?"

"I'll have two Old Fashioneds, please," you lean forward onto your elbows to give your feet a rest as he pulls up a second napkin and then two crystal, lowball glasses. "They're pretty," you comment without thinking.

"It's all about the glass," he confirms quickly, dropping brown sugar cubes into each one and then shaking bitters on top. Your eyes focus on the way the squares dissolve and fall in on themselves as he speaks again, "I'm Jack."

"Y/N," you give your name for the second time, throwing a brief smile his way, "I've never actually watched someone make these before."

Jack pauses and gives you a teasing look, "Do you want me to stop so you can get something to write this all down?"

You laugh and roll your eyes at him as he goes back to making the drinks. You're stalling. You know when you go through the curtain in the back there'll be a dozen people who're all dressed nicer than you, with more impressive jobs than you, who have funnier, more outrageous stories about the birthday boy than you. You'll need to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments too long before Harry notices you, and then your greeting will be watched by all his cool, London friends.

You know better than to let any of that dull your shine—you really do—but you've had a rough few months, and if you're honest, you'd like your first time seeing Harry since the summer to be a little more low-key than this. So that's why you're wearing the new boots that hurt and might not suit the dress code because they're new and you feel good wearing them with this outfit. It feels a little special to be out celebrating Harry's (belated) birthday in a semi-new ensemble. You managed to fluke getting your hair and makeup just right, and yes, your legs do look pretty fantastic in these tights with the short, roll neck, knit dress, thank you very much.

"Here you go," Jack brings your attention back to him, you can smell the citrus twist in front of you, and the crystal glass deflects the light from the candles, "Can I put this on a tab for you? You're with the birthday?"

"I'll pay," you tell him, already digging for your card and holding it out to him.

"Oi!" You hear a very familiar voice call out from the far end of the bar, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you shiver, "What're you payin' for? What's she—don't take her money!"

You keep your arm out steadily to Jack and raise your eyebrows at him, "Take it," you urge him quickly, feeling him pluck it from your fingers just as you turn towards the voice you know so well.

That familiar Tom Ford cologne hits your nose just as Harry hurries up and deposits himself heavily against the bar, right up in your personal space. His broad frame blocks out the room to you, and he's lit softly in the dim light and looking radiant from within, as per usual. He's got his crazy eyes out—accusing you—and his eyebrows are pinched together slightly, but he looks good. Happy. Rested. Pleased to see you.

Harry's always pleased to see everyone, you tell yourself, Hold it together.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug. Your cheek presses just below his pecs, and you feel the way he's grown more defined since you last saw him. The material of his t-shirt is soft and smells clean. It's a tight squeeze he gives you, one that you resist reading into. Was it healthy for there to be so much comfort in a simple hug? Was your whole body allowed to tingle and fizz from the embrace of a friend? Was it pathetic to have been carrying around in your ribcage the same crush from when you were thirteen?

Affirmative. Without a doubt. Yes.

You haven't seen Harry since mid-September, the last time he was in London. Well, the last time he was in London and had time to see you. You're sure there were probably business trips, Christmas definitely. And going off Instagram, you think he might've flown into Manchester and spent a long weekend with Anne back in October, but if it was any of your business, it would've been your business. You needed to be grateful simply for what you got; intermittent texts about books he'd read or maybe a happy drunk voicemail if he thought of you at the right time. He sent an email at Christmas with a charitable contribution in your name instead of a gift.

"It's so good to see you," Harry says as he pulls away, all crinkled eyes and broad smiles. You don't know your grin has launched his heart into space and that despite having just gone to the bathroom, Harry feels due for a nervous wee. He thinks you look fucking gorgeous tonight. Knowing you've done your hair, and eyeliner, and picked that dress to come out and celebrate his birthday … It sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin—beauty blooms in front of his eyes in you.

Tell her, you idiot. Twenty-seven could be the year.

"Hi," you chirp at him happily and pick up one of the glasses in front of you, "I got you a drink."

Harry watches you fondly and then dramatically looks off to the side, lets out a little huff, "Typical Y/N, buying her own drink … You really think I wouldn't have one here for you?"

Nevertheless, he says a quiet thank you, takes the glass from you and deliberately sniffs it as if he's not sure what's inside or if he'll like it. You smack his arm lightly at the show and pick up your own glass, chinking it to the side of his and watching him over the rim as you both take your first sips. The familiar taste and view fill your tummy with gurgling happiness that sits high in your chest. He's dressed almost exactly how you expected him to be—smart, high-waisted dress pants and a printed t-shirt. You're glad you didn't go too formal, the restaurant is nice, but it's not Hatted or anything, not like the place he took you in LA that time, where you felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not realising beforehand, was properly fancy.

"Fuckin' delicious," he rumbles slowly, bringing you back to the cocktail, "A classic."

"Happy birthday," you tell Harry sweetly, thankful for what's likely to be your only quiet moment with him all night, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the LA party."

"Ah," Harry waves you off, "Your job's much too important here."

He means it. Harry's beyond proud of you. He's always telling people you work for the NHS, saving lives and keeping the country going. The party in LA was thrown together by some people at the last minute, and even though most of the friends he left in the backroom when he went to find the bathrooms a few moments ago were able to fly across for it, Harry's not the least bit put out by you not being able to. Would've been a big trip for you to do on your own and he knew there's no way you'd miss his London celebration. And you sent over a gift, which shouldn't have surprised him. His actual birthday was spent in LA, and that morning a parcel arrived from you—two new notebooks and a novel Harry read the back of and instantly knew he would love. It's what he read on the flight home to the UK.

Trust you to want him to have the gift on his birthday—go to all that trouble of packaging it and sending it over—when you were going to see him in London ten days later anyway. Harry could do worse than a friend like you.

"I just need a bit more notice than four da—

—Please," Harry's shaking his head at you, hating watching you apologise for something he really doesn't care about. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he tells you genuinely, fingers reaching out to brush your bangs away from your eyebrow briefly and—did the room just spin around you?—get a glimpse of the bronze sheen over your eyelids, "I haven't seen your new hair in person, looks lovely."

Lovely? he scolds himself, Lovely is a nice jam scone, lovely is a hug from mum …

"Oh," you coo, automatically sending your own fingers up to where Harry's had just been to reposition your newish bangs, "Thanks, still getting used to it, wanted to do it forever but wasn't brave enough to I guess."

"I like your natural hair colour, too," he continues slowly, eyes running over your whole head, "I mean, I loved how it used to be … But I like this a lot."

Shit, Harry's already failing to adhere to the strict series of pep talks he's given himself over the last couple of days. He's babbling, and he's probably just made you think he's not liked how you've had your hair for the previous twelve years. Is he buzzed from the cocktail or from the way your cheeks have gone a little pink since he touched you? His compliment made you squirm, and Harry wants to do it again and again until what he's feeling makes sense.

"Just, you know, feels like a throwback to the old days," he mumbles through another sip of the cocktail you both love, a glint appears in his eyes as he continues, "When you had Barbie overalls and would spend half a day plaiting your whole head in those tiny little rat tails."

Your mouth opens into a horrified O, and you let out a single laugh, "Rat tails? They were cool. And I was eleven when we met, I'd definitely already outgrown the Barbie overalls."

"Whatever you say," Harry smirks at you, signature dimples appearing on his cheeks, "I just remember those little beads from the ends of them ending up all over the bottom of the pool."

You smile at the memory. You remember duck diving with Gemma to collect all the beads so they could be put back into your hair the next day. Nearly drowning from laughing so hard at Harry and the other boys trying to stand on your backs in the water. Summers with Harry were always spent laughing. The local pool and skate park saw all your adventures. When Harry's dad moved in next door to your family after his parent's divorce, you and your brother hung off the fence, peering into the backyard to see if any toys or a trampoline might appear signally new kids next door. They didn't, and it wasn't until the summer when Harry and Gemma arrived for their holidays that you jumped the fence with ice lollies and offered yourself up as a new friend.

"Simpler times," you muse to yourself, looking up and catching the perplexed look Harry was giving you, "Spaced out a bit, sorry."

"I've missed my little weirdo," he grins at you affectionately, angling a little closer and levelling his head down to yours as he bit his lip and frowned, "Are you doing alright though?"

You let out a little sigh and avert your eyes to where Jack, the bartender, is busy making trays of drinks for different tables. Harry observes you carefully, a twinge of guilt forms for causing the sad look that's come over your face, but also for not having asked the question weeks ago. Gemma told him at Christmas, an off-handed comment about you being newly single. When he heard the evil gremlin in him was fucking relieved, just like he always was.

"I'm fine," you try a smile out and pull your lips up higher when you don't think Harry buys it, "Better. Had my crisis haircut and drank myself to tears with my work friends. Just a normal break up, really. M'getting used to them at this point."

A small, white lie.

Each breakup bruises you deeply. Talking about it afterwards fills you with a shame that makes you feel naked, like everyone else can see what's wrong with you but you. As though it's obvious why nobody's picked you yet. You don't ever want to talk about it afterwards, (especially not with Harry) don't want to draw attention to it. Prefer to let the disappointment and loneliness pool in your tummy and sit there heavily, weighing you down, waiting for the One Day someone spectacular might come along and be buoyant enough to float away with you.

You're looking for your forever. You want the cheesy romance, and the love, and marriage, and kids, and the whole stupid thing. You want to be wanted and loved and cherished. That's what you're ready for. You just can't find anyone who's ready for that with you. So, you date, have mediocre boyfriends who rarely make it to the first anniversary, then pick up the pieces and try again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Well," Harry swallows, reaches out for your arm to make sure you look at him, "You look beautiful tonight. And it's his loss, he's clearly a monumental idiot."

You give Harry a noncommittal hum in response. Just as you're about to say something you shouldn't—get into details you bet Harry really isn't that interested in knowing—you catch the movement of someone appearing from the doorway behind Harry and then approaching you both.

"Harry, mate," you don't know the guy who's recognised Harry's back and is calling out for his attention now, "Thought you might've fallen in."

Harry snaps around quickly to the voice, blocking your view. You take another sip of your drink and pull in a deep breath. Not fitting into any of Harry' groups socially has its downfalls. If his sister wasn't around, you tended to have to make friends at anything Harry invites you to. You're not part of his Holmes Chapel crew or his LA friends, and you definitely don't fit into the London group. Over the years there have been faces you've come to find familiar, but you're still the singular, hanger-on friend from Harry's second childhood home.

Peering around Harry's shoulder, you catch the end of a look between the two guys you think alludes to this new friend gauging whether Harry needs rescuing from you. You briefly wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. You know that look well.

"Aiden, this is Y/N," Harry raises his arm and angles to pull you around in front of him.

You hold up your drink, awkwardly, "Hi."

Aiden gives you a hesitant smile, "Hello," then he raises his eyebrows at Harry, "Harry, you coming back in, mate?"

Harry bites his lip and chuckles, reading the look on his friend's face, "You're a prick, I don't need saving. Known Y/N since I was twelve, we were just catching up."

You feel yourself go bright red, and you're thankful for the forgiving lighting. This isn't the first time this exact scenario has happened to you. You've been on the receiving end of that uneasy look before—his friends checking if the girl who isn't there with anyone else is supposed to be there at all. Backstage at the O2, a member of Harry's security once hauled you to the tour manager's office to check your VIP credentials were legitimate. You'll take that story with you to the grave.

Aiden deflates slightly and waves a hand your way, "Shit, sorry, thought he'd been cornered by a fan again … I mean, a pretty fan to say the least but …" he coughs into his hand when Harry gives him a glare you don't see, "Great to meet you."

"No worries," you wave it off like it's nothing. The truth is your brain has short-circuited at Harry's palm resting on the small of your back, he's not moved it from when he first brought you forward. Friendly touches weren't strange between you, but this lingering, comforting hand is burning a hole in you tonight. You haven't been out and had anyone touch you since your breakup, and Harry is setting off all you nerve endings. You tilt your weight onto your other foot to pull back from him slightly, but Harry's hand travels with you. "We should go back, I might use the loo first though, is it that way?"

Harry watches you point in the direction of the bathroom, you're flustered and he really wishes he could tell Aiden to buzz off so he could just take another few minutes with you. Brief you on who was in the room you were about to go into. You wouldn't know any of them, and Harry always appreciated that you came to things on your own, particularly when you wouldn't know anyone aside from him once you got there. He should have invited his sister so you'd have a buddy. Or told you to bring a friend. Not a boyfriend, though.

He watches you take the final drag from your drink and put the glass down on top of the bar, "Thanks Jack, t' was dee-lish," you catch the attention of the bartender, throwing him a beaming grin. And Harry watches the way the guy's features light up at being called on by you. Envy rumbles in Harry's gut, he recognises the dumb smile and dopey nod of Barman Jack's head. Has felt it a hundred times himself when he's been on the receiving end of your quirky humour.

You walk away, and Harry feels Aiden watching him, "She's fit," he comments, trying to get a rise out of Harry, reading the room perfectly.

"Fuck you," Harry grunts at him.

Harry sits opposite you at the long table in the private dining room.

You nurse a glass of rosé and eat the food slowly, savouring it. You deliberated over the menu for a long time before settling on what to order, you've seen photos of most of the dishes online, but there were several new ones too. Harry goes off your recommendations but spends a lot of the dinner talking to the people sitting beside him. He knows if he tried talking to you right now, he'd just get lost in you, which is both rude for a birthday party and bound to be too conspicuous.

You insert yourself into a conversation with the girls sitting next to you and pretend you're good at making friends. They spend most of the meal talking about something that was on the telly the night before. You were on shift so missed it, but pretend to be interested or like you might've seen it—anything to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Harry watches you out the corner of his eye the whole time. You've shrugged off your jacket, and he recognises the gold necklace you've got around the collar of your dress, sitting over the black fabric on your chest. He's pretty sure it was a gift from Gemma a few years ago, you wear it all the time. Harry makes a note to get you something that compliments it for your birthday coming up. You're chatting to one of his mate's girlfriends and Lisa who's been on his publicity team for years. Those would've been the two he'd have introduced you to first as well. He can't stop watching the way your lips turn up every time something funny is said, or one of the girls makes eye contact with you. Watching you try with his other friends always makes Harry feel warm and giddy for some reason.

Fuck, he's missed you. And he berates himself for the fact he never seems to remember that until he sees you again. (It's strategic usually, his heart doesn't take your company well when he knows you're going home to someone else) You're so engaging and kind and unintentionally charming, and you always have time for him. Harry knows he's not an easy human to be friends with; he constantly ducks in and out and is never around for the big things, let alone being available to call on a random day to just hang out with. The friendship is always on his terms, and he knows it makes him a selfish prick. You definitely could've done with a call a couple of months back when you had your heart broken. Like always, he missed it, and by the time he was sending you a message about an episode of Midsomer Murders, he felt as though the moment to console you had passed, and Harry didn't want to draw attention to the fact he wasn't around for it.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His head snaps back around to the person next to him, thoughts still on you across the table. He agrees with whatever was said and does his best to catch up.

Harry's got to stop thinking about how you're single at the moment. He really does.

A few hours later, it's the girl sitting to your left, Lisa, who first mentions the idea of kicking on.

It's after dessert—after everyone sang happy birthday to Harry over a round of espresso martinis—and you're starting to think that if you leave now, you'll be home before midnight, which means the tube won't be too deserted to feel safe. You're also at a comfortable place to wake up without a hangover in the morning. Two cocktails and a glass of wine over dinner, because any more and you're scared you could say something stupid to the wrong (right) person.

Harry's face lights up, and he looks around the room, eager at the idea of going to a bar or two for more drinks. He's not been out in London for the longest time, and he's happily buzzed enough to not be too worried about running into people. Feels like this group of friends have gelled well together. How often does he get to have a night like this in London? Hardly ever.

"Yeah, let me sort out the tab and then we're good to go," Harry says, pushing his seat back from the table and standing up, his hands hunting his pockets for his wallet and phone, "I'll be right back."

When he goes, you decide now's as good a time as any to split. You pull your coat on and say goodbye to the friends you made over the meal. Lisa gives you her business cards as if speaking to you had been part of her job, you slip it straight into your coat pocket and can already picture it at the bottom of the garbage in your kitchen. You revisit the bathrooms, and when you come back out into the main restaurant area, Harry's still leaning against the front desk, chatting to the maître d' from earlier.

He feels your small hand land on his back and jolts upright at the contact, your gentle voice calling his name softly, "Harry, I'm going to head home."

He spins around, and you catch the fall of his face, "What? No … No. You're the one I want to hang out with the most," his bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow. "Y/N."

"Thanks a fuckin' lot, mate," you hear a male voice laugh at your back, they slip behind you and out into the chilly air, and Harry flips them the bird. You were pushed closer into his chest as they jostled past and he steadied you with his arms latched onto your forearms. Still watching outside, you see a cigarette lighter flare-up on the footpath and the end of an orange butt glow spectacularly in the night. When you glance back at Harry, he's not looking happy.

"Don't pout," you tell him lightly, you reach up and press the skin taut between his eyes smooth again, "Can't wrinkle that rockstar face of yours."

His face lights up, and his skin heats where you made contact, "You can't go yet."

"Harry," your features tangle into something like a grimace, "You'll have a better time without me. Everyone seems to be pretty tight—"

—Y/N," he gives you a final, pleading look, "Please come."

You make out like you're stomping your foot in defiance, "Fine."

"Score!" Harry cheers under his breath, shrugging his jacket up over his shoulders and saying a final round of thank yous to the staff. When you're out on the street at Harry's side somebody mentions the name of the next place and points the direction of it, Harry places a hand on your shoulder as you start to walk and leans down to your ear, "I just have one condition for you coming."

You pull back and look at him, "I don't think you get conditions when you've begged me to be here."

"A birthday condition then," he edits, pressing his lips together and smiling at you with his eyes, "You have to promise to do what I say before I ask it."

You narrow your eyes at him, "I suppose you only turn twenty-seven once. You can have a single wish from me."

Harry laughs and slips his fingers under the strap of your evening bag, "Give me this."

You think briefly he means to carry it for you, which is a strange thing for Harry to request. But then he unzips it in front of you and starts rifling around inside it, slipping your phone under his arm so he can move around the lipstick and tissues and emergency Galaxy bar to eventually pull out your small purse.

"Harry! What are you—

—Ah, ah!" He holds it all away from you and reminds you of the promise. "This is mine for the night," he says, slipping your purse into his coat pocket. "Otherwise you'll end up buying too many rounds."

You try to sneak your hand into the pocket after your wallet, "Don't be stupid. It's your birthday, I'll buy every round if I need to."

"Exactly my point," he steps away from you down the street, and you skip to be back at his side. He's stolen your money and your chocolate bar.

"Harry, give it back."

"Nope," he pops the 'p' and hands you back the bag, the Galaxy bar hanging from between his teeth, still in the packet, "You promised. Now hurry up and walk, and I might give you a bite of this. 'm freezing my balls off, we are not in LA anymore."

So that's how you end up in the next bar, your handbag a little lighter, squished into Harry's side with a pleasantly sour cocktail he paid for between your fingers. The booth is so far into the back wall you're not even really sure which direction the front door is anymore. Somehow, you've managed to sit ten people around a booth probably designed for six, but nobody seems to be bothered.

Your whole right side is on fire, though.

You can feel Harry from the top of your shoulder all the way to your ankle. His hip sits neatly next to yours, Harry's left elbow rests just above your right thigh, and your knees press together every time he gets excited when he speaks and unintentionally opens his legs up. If Harry's bothered by it there's no way you'd know, he's hardly looked at you since you all sat down, much less uttered a word of discomfort about the seating arrangements. Makes no sense really, when he seemed so desperate for you to stay out with them.

(Next to you Harry's felt like he was high most of the time, he's flashing in and out of the conversations around him. Because he can smell your perfume—Stella by Stella McCartney, he'd know that fragrance anywhere, you've been wearing it since you were seventeen—and you're warm and snug beside him. He feels completely insane. But he also feels inflated with a heart-crushing joy at having you so close. He's trying his best not to draw attention to it or to you because what he's always liked most about your friendship is that you're just his. God, he needs to do better at seeing you more often, talking more, being more. Each breath as he's touching you is like a crack of electricity through his chest that aches beautifully. Nobody else feels like this. Even when he's dated, what he's felt with them can't hold a candle to his boyhood crush on you.)

You sip your drink and laugh at the embarrassing story that's being told about Harry, oblivious to his torment. Oblivious to how Harry feels your forearm brush his leg and has the overwhelming desire to deposit his palm on your thigh and keep it there, probably forever.

It strikes you that the last time you saw Harry was before the current anecdote about him in Italy happened, and at the table, it's being spoken about as though it was ancient history. You wonder what historic classification your memory of thirteen-year-old Harry would get, that time he attempted to bleach his hair with lemon juice. He ended up with second-degree burns on his forehead from the acid reacting with the sun.

Or the time Gemma stayed in Holmes Chapel for the summer because she had her first boyfriend, and so you spent six weeks learning that maybe you'd been wrong about who your favourite Styles child was. Maybe the boy who, when you were eleven, didn't impress you much, suddenly at thirteen, demanded all your attention. Made that summer become the first where you considered your outfits and whether your mum sending you next door with homemade snacks made you look lame.

"… And of course, Harry can't walk away from a dance floor when he's on the tequila …" everyone around the table laughs. Harry peeks at you to make sure you are too, but he's not very good at it because you notice, a smile flares on your lips.

You're used to long periods of not seeing each other, it's how it's always been. Harry and Gemma spent the summers with their dad and then returned to Holmes Chapel for real life. Sometimes that's what it still felt like, as though each time you saw either of them you were acutely aware there was a foreign Real Life they would go back to without you.

Harry in particular. You were used to not seeing him for months on end, usually the whole school year. Just a few messages over MySpace and birthday cards, and then, when you were out of school, invites to parties Harry couldn't come to anymore—'I'm in Australia, how insane is that? Sorry, I'll miss your 18th …' or 'I can only stay until the 8th, could you maybe graduate a week earlier? ;)'—and emails every other month with a new mobile number for you to overwrite his contact in your phone with. You're not saying you feel hard done by in your friendship, you don't. It's just always very take-what-you-can-get with Harry.

"You've got your thinky eyes on," he's pivoted his whole body towards you, hips twisted in an entirely uncomfortable looking position. Harry's got his resting elbow on the table right next to where your hand holds your drink, and he's looking down at you with careful eyes, "Where are you?"

"The pool a dozen summers ago," you answer easily, pursing your lips together and running a knuckle along your hairline, "Thinking about your ah, burn incident."

Harry's face explodes in a grin, and his eyes roll up to the ceiling and then capture yours again, "For fuck's sake, you're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"You were a horrible blonde," you remark quickly, "If you ever so much as blink in the direction of a packet of bleach you have to call me, okay? I'll have no issue telling you, categorically, you should never dye your hair."

"Categorically," Harry mimics you childishly, "Alright, I get it, you went to uni. No need to use words with fifty syllables to make me feel stupid."

You bring your glass up to your lips, "Come off it, Harry, you're ten times smarter than me."

His forehead raises, "You're the cleverest person I know. Don't make me call Gem to confirm it."

"Don't bring your sister into this, Harry," you deadpan.

He goes to reply but holds back, something unnamable travelling across his eyes as he watches you lick your lips after taking another sip of your drink. Harry's leaning a little closer than he might usually, and despite the fact he's a few drinks in he still smells only of Tom Ford and clean clothes. He's just about to ask you what you're doing the next day when he gets hit in the side of the head with a coaster.

"Hey," he cries out, pulling back from you and frowning around at the group trying to figure out who the culprit is," 'M the fucking birthday boy, watch it."

Lisa is the girl directly across from Harry and yourself, and she's is the one who threw it. She's giving Harry a coy smile and holds up her empty glass to him, a not so subtle request makes the drink in your hand feel like a concrete brick. Something dirty you don't like having. She's got captivating blue eyes and straight blonde hair—exactly Harry's usual type. Your heart sinks as he slides out of the booth next to you, laughing at her flirtatious request and taking a tally of who else wants a new drink.

"Y/N?" Your name is delicate on his lips, and it makes you want to cry. Why is it so easy for you to make things feel like they mean more with him?

You direct your smile his way, "I'm good, thanks."

His head tilts to one side, "You sure?"

"Positive," you nod, feeling your cheeks burn as everyone watches the exchange.

"Okay," Harry taps the table with the corner of his phone, "I'll be right back."

After a few moments, you sneak off to the bathroom, happy to see Harry's beaten you back from the bar when you return. He's sitting in your spot, deep in conversation with the person beside him who you recognise from the radio. Tentatively, you slip in next to him, careful not to touch him this time. Harry's got his hand casually resting on the table, turning your glass forty-five degrees one way and then back the other way as he speaks. You think about reaching over and pulling it out of his hand gently (you're losing your buzz, and Little Miss Bombshell across the table has made you feel silly and juvenile) but it looks to be an almost serious conversation, so you don't. With a smile plastered on your face, you look around the table, resisting the urge to pull out your phone to check if either of your flatmates has text you to meet up with them somewhere.

It's a delicious whiff of your perfume behind him that turns Harry's head. You're back from the bathroom, although nobody was able to confirm that's where you went when he got back from the bar and asked after you. Harry pushes your drink over and gives you a smile, taking note of the fresh layer of lipstick and messy oomph to your hair that perfectly shows off the new style and bangs.

Golden, he thinks, As always,

"Your new hair really does look beautiful," Harry tells you, the bar stilling around you as his face becomes all the world is for you at that moment, "Next time, don't wait for a dickhead to break your heart before doing something to make yourself feel good."

You swallow down the thickness in your throat, "Thanks, Harry."

Walking to the next bar, Harry can't stop himself from asking.

"What happened?"

You kick your foot out as you wait at a set of traffic lights, half the group ran to cross, but you, Harry and a couple of others were too slow, "What happened with what?"

Harry watches his breath fan out in front of his face, "With your ex, with …"

"Tim."

"Tim, yeah," he turns to look down at you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "What happened with Tim?"

"Nothing really," you start strong, then shrug one shoulder as you think about it. It's safe to cross so you wait until you're stepping up over the gutter and onto the opposite footpath before you continue, "Probably a lot of little things but … Always felt like he thought I was asking for a bit too much. I guess in the end he just didn't like me all that much."

The way your voice drops kills Harry, he's not detecting self-deprecation but something far worse. He's detecting acceptance or acknowledgement or like you're confessing some truth that should have been obvious.

"Y/N," he stops walking and halts you as well, lets Adrian and Lisa walk around and out in front of you, "If he didn't like you very much then he's got some kind of chemical imbalance. I mean it, this guy's not worth a second of your heartache."

It's not like Harry's a dickhead about it, not like he thinks you should date people with more money or status or who are more impressive. A person isn't their job or what car they drive, he knows that. Harry's not about judging anyone, but you really do seem to date guys not worthy of you. He hasn't met many of them, but Harry knows this to be true because if they were worthy, you simply wouldn't be single right now. If you dated someone half-decent, there wouldn't be a chance in hell they'd let you go. You're beautiful and thoughtful and intelligent and funny—so funny—which means Harry knows without a doubt that this Tim guy was an absolute fuckwit.

"It's not necessarily about the guy," you start and Harry can hear the thick emotion in your voice, "Is it? It's about the idea. The disappointment is more about not getting the fairytale, not finding my person. Not getting the whole package everyone else seems to have found. I know Tim wasn't right—truth be told I didn't end up liking him very much either—doesn't stop me from being sad that I still haven't found it."

"'It'… That's what you're looking for?" Harry asks, eyes out front where the rest of the group are all stopped waiting at another set of traffic lights.

They're laughing and chatting loudly to other people on nights out, and hanging off street poles to get funny pictures. He doesn't want to catch up to them, not when the two of you are in the middle of this conversation that's making his heart race and his hands sweat. He starts taking smaller steps.

"Yeah," you breathe out, almost sounding ashamed of yourself, "Don't seem to be looking in the right places."

Look over here, Harry thinks.

"But I mean, each breakup I end up getting something out of it," you've flicked your positivity switch, "This time I got these boots and bangs," you kick out your foot and watch Harry take note of your footwear, "Last break up I got four houseplants and a new watch … It's not all bad. What about you?" you turn it back on Harry, "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

It's hard to tell with Harry. You either find out from his sister or sometimes, social media. Although that's all usually trash. Generally, when Harry's seeing someone, you'll hear it confirmed from Gemma, and the next time you see Harry, it'll be something you're assumed to know. You haven't seen Gemma since Christmas time though, for your annual festive get together, and she didn't mention anything. Tim had ended things with you a few days before, so that was the main topic of conversation.

"No," Harry confirms what you'd already deduced—and hoped—in your head, "Not for a while now."

"Got your eye on anyone?" You quiz faux cheekily, your smile a little too wide.

Yes, you, he says to himself as he looks at the side of your face.

You hope he's not got some girl in LA he's into. Just like you'd hoped his answer to the previous question. But the hope was silly, something that bloomed in your chest each time you saw him and died again before you were home in your bed, alone.

"I'll let you know," he says aloud.

You think you see something else there in his expression, but you know you can't have. Your mind is swirling, and you're feeling a tingling sensation all over that you know you shouldn't. It'll only leave you disappointed when you part ways tonight and don't see him for another few months. The tiny bits of maybe mores and perhaps are dangerous to things to cling on to now, they'll all turn into Nothings very quickly.

Someone steals his attention away from you when you get to the next street corner. Most of the group are gathered there, and you're not sure whether to believe it when Lisa says they missed the green man to cross the road because they were talking. She sides up to Harry and starts waving her hands around in an animated story about something or other. Harry crosses the street with her, and you give him up for the night.

But he's acutely aware of what's happened. Harry's not stupid—he's emotionally intelligent, and spent enough time with Lisa on nights out before—and he can see that she's deliberately pulled him aside. He likes her, quite a bit, but she doesn't make his insides flip, or his toes curl. She's firmly Just A Friend. Harry hasn't spent countless hours over the years thinking about her, lying to himself about how he's completely fine when she starts dating someone new. He's never thought about an alternative life, one where he stayed at school and went to uni and got a regular job and maybe (definitely) ended up with her.

He's imagined that life with you—more than once. More than a dozen times, if he's honest. For years now, Harry's bitten his tongue and smiled through the pain of not being able to have you. And sure, most of the time it's a dull ache, deep in the recess of his mind, that needs to be called on or conjured to really be felt, but it's always been there. He's always had an (Astronomical) Soft Spot For You. Ever since that summer you broke your arm falling off the back of the ramp at the skate park, and he first saw you cry. At fifteen he didn't know what the hollow but sharp pain through his heart was as he rushed to your side, but now he knows that was the first sign he didn't see you as just a mate. Would never again see you as just a mate.

And now, hearing you use the word 'it'. You say you're out there dating idiots trying to find it and Harry's just unwaveringly sure he that could be him. He wants to be it for you.

You've pulled out your phone and fallen behind, face pulled down as you type away furiously. Harry watches you out of the corner of his eye, half just to watch you and half to make sure you don't get separated entirely from the safety of the group.

"Y/N," he calls out, unable to keep up with Lisa's story and unwilling to try to tune back into it. She stops short, and annoyance flits across her face, but Harry still turns to you, still crosses his arms over his chest and gives you his best scolding look, "It's the oldest trick in the book," he goads you. Lisa sighs behind him, and he ignores it.

Your head slowly comes up and takes in Harry (and Lisa sulking behind him), "What is?"

"Fallin' behind so you can peek at my bum."

You point at the long coat Harry's wearing that goes to his knees, "Can't see half of you under that thing."

"Ah, ha!" He calls out, his pointer finger floating in the air right in front of your face, "So you've tried."

You shove his shoulder and step around him, trying like anything to act neutrally. You're aware Lisa is still watching on, and you're not used to your friendship with Harry being quite so carefully observed. You know your face has gone red and you're really not going to involve yourself in a pissing contest with her. It's not classy and certainly not your vibe.

As you walk away, boots clip up behind you, and Harry heavily drapes his arm right across your shoulders, pulls you into his side, "Was just teasin', love."

"I know," you respond quietly, not upset, not really.

"Though I might've made you sad," Harry continues solemnly, "Know you get embarrassed in front of people."

Your face cracks into a smile, "Opposite of you, hey, you're practically an exhibitionist."

He should flirt because you've led him to a pretty easy window into a dirty joke, but something has Harry hanging onto his regret, "I mean it, shouldn't tease you …Should be old enough to use my words, tell you what I think."

You've got no idea what he's on about, "Harry, the teasing was fine. Where's this bloody bar though?"

Up ahead, everyone's standing on the footpath in a clump. Harry can feel the next words on his lips but has to hold them in when his mates turn and see he's finally caught up. They're waiting a few minutes for a table, someone explains, then they'll be able to go in. Harry thinks how little he feels like another drink at another bar. A few people walk away from the group to share cigarettes. You're standing a little bit away, under the sign for the butcher next-door and kick your foot back against the wall like the slight movement might warm you up.

As he steps up to you, Harry watches you get distracted by the group of people spilling out of the bar you're all about to go into. He doesn't want to take advantage of knowing you're newly single also doesn't want to let this opportunity pass. You're always dating someone, or he is, or there's some other reason not to. There's always a reason to hold back from you and Harry refuses to believe it's the drinks he's had nudging him into this. Neither of you is drunk, he wouldn't even say he's tipsy anymore. Just warm and contemplative and less inhibited than usual.

"C' mere," he calls softly, the tips of his boots landing right in front of yours, your bodies a hands' width apart. He wants you closer.

"Harry—

He opens up his coat to you and when you don't move—your brain is busy short-circuiting—he acts for you and winds his arm around your shoulder to encase you in the warmth, "Get in," Harry says, "You're shivering."

You're shocked by the contact, at him being so close and inviting you in and then just taking you in his jacket. He's wrapped the lapels around both your bodies and forced you against his chest. He hums against you, but you're feeling incredibly awkward with your arms hitched up against your chest and pressed rigidly into his shoulders. You've not been in a hold like this before and certainly not with Harry.

He pulls back and digs around for your wrists, "You've gotta put them around me," he stretches his arms behind his back, taking yours with them and instructing you to really settle against him. "There, that's better," he wraps the jacket back around you, and the two of you stand like that—hearts pressed together, scents converging and your whole frame shaking against his—for what seems like far too long for it mean nothing. Right? Your thoughts ricocheted around inside his jacket and go nowhere, solve nothing in your mind.

Over your shoulder, he sees the rest of the group have gone into the bar. He's not surprised none of them called out, Harry's angled you both away from the door and with his head ducked down against yours they probably (hopefully) missed you both there.

It's Harry's twenty-seventh birthday, and maybe that's made him sullen or introspective. Made him think about the passage of time and how another year has passed him by, yet here he stands in the same place as ever—wanting you. Wishing for more, or waiting for a moment that feels right, or hoping something will happen. With growing older comes a sense of regret and an acceptance that twenty-six has happened and anything he wanted to achieve by that age but didn't he never will. There's only the future. Only the things he can do. And the mix of all that with the cocktails has Harry feeling as though he has to act on this. Every birthday he thinks maybe by the next one the Somethings or the Maybes might have happened, and you won't be standing in front of him as just his friend.

"Always had a thing for you," Harry says, his chin resting against the crown of your head while his arms link around low on your back, holding you against him, "I've always liked you more than I should."

Oh god, you think, your chest freezing in place, I'm hallucinating.

"What?" Now your heart is really racing. Or maybe it's completely stopped, seized up and fallen out of your chest onto the salt-covered footpath.

His voice comes out evenly as he repeats himself, "Feels bigger than a crush, but I guess that's what it is … Since we were kids."

(Oh, how those words have been his best-kept secret for all these years but now, in less than two seconds, he's let go of them more easily than almost anything else he's ever done)

"Y/N?"

Harry thought he'd be scared. Thought this would be a moment of panic. Every time he's imagined this he's thought 'and I'd be absolutely shitting myself because what if she doesn't feel the same way?' but now that he's said it he's almost completely calm. The only reason he's worried is that he can feel how hard your heart is beating—even through the layers of clothing—and surely that quickly can't be good for your health.

You're speechless, and he leans back so he can see your face and, oh your eyes. Why on earth didn't he say it to your face, so he could be looking in your eyes? Watch his words project across your expression and settle into your mind.

You look worried, and Harry's transported back to that time he had you on FaceTime when he was somewhere on tour with One Direction. He was telling you about how management was going to let them fly friends out on tour, bring a little bit of home along and give the boys some needed space from each other. You were nodding along and so excited for him but sure Harry was talking about someone else, that this was just news and he'd called up to tell you how he was inviting the boys he went to school with in Cheshire or people he met through X-Factor. Of course I'm bringing out you and Gem, you idiot, he'd told you when you were surprised to get an invite, Who else did you think I was talking about?

He kind of loves watching the look on your face right now, the cogs turning in your head and wheels spinning, furiously trying to figure out what Harry means.

Why isn't he terrified of what you're about to say?

"Why … but you've… and I've…"

Your hands have moved to his hips so you can see him properly, and Harry's encouraged by the fact you haven't pulled away or pushed him off you. You're watching him with a puzzled look on your face and a burning heat across your cheeks.

He brings his forearms up to rest on your shoulders and smiles at you, "I wasn't brave enough to act on it … Guess I didn't want to fuck it up. Didn't want it to not work out. Couldn't stand you becoming an ex."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Right." You don't seem capable of more than one word at a time.

"You feel bad for yelling at me about the chocolate bar now, don't you?" Harry's narrowed his eyes playfully.

That does it.

Your eyes snap back up to his face from being fixated on staring at his neck, "Chocolate bar … No, what the fuck, Harry."

He laughs. A real laugh that comes from the base of his tummy and squeezes his eyes shut and crinkles his nose. His head falls back, and it's a deep, uninhibited laugh, "Don't stomp your new boots at me," he eventually says, crooking his head down to be almost pressing his forehead against yours. "You've been my favourite girl for years, I've always been a pansy idiot who didn't want to wreck the friendship."

"Oh, and now you don't mind wrecking it?" You bark back sarcastically, unsure why you're angry at him but you are.

"No," Harry says softly, moving through your emotional responses seamlessly, "I don't think it's going to wreck it, do you? Think twenty-seven has finally given me the balls to pursue it. To tell you how I feel. How I've always felt."

Your eyes instantly ball with hot tears you weren't prepared for, "You're an idiot."

"I am," he agrees readily, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

"Why have you told me this now," your voice is small, unsure.

Harry frowns, now he's starting to panic, "Do you … Do you not feel the same? Or do you not think maybe you could?"

Oh, if only he could have been in your head every time you saw him these last few years. Heard you talk yourself down and away from anything more than platonic, from any thoughts that might elevate you in his eyes. You've spent all this time trying to convince yourself to believe you were nothing more than a friend to him, and now this.

"Harry, are you sure you—

—I'm sure," he insists quickly.

"I just—

—I'm sure."

You're suddenly very embarrassed by the conversation the two of you had earlier about your ex. The conversation where you basically told Harry you're incredibly desperate to settle down and find The One. He's so achingly cool, and you feel like a little tinned tomato, thin-skinned and persistently flustered.

Tinned tomato? Really? You berate yourself, Case in bloody point.

"Y/N"

You scratch roughly at your forehead and grimace at whatever thoughts are going through your mind, "I'm just …"

Harry brings one hand up to fix your bangs, carefully sweeping the hair back across your forehead evenly, letting the pads of his fingers dust over your skin, "I think if you didn't feel the same you'd have said No by now."

His words steal the air from your lungs, "Harry, you've just always …"

"I've always?"

"I never thought …"

The smile comes up over his face gently, "It's me, Y/N, please finish a sentence. I'd really like to kiss you, but you haven't yet said anything to imply you'd be open to that …"

You pull your lips together like a reflex you can't help, you've rarely let yourself fall that deep into imaging things with Harry, but your body reacts to his words in an instant, "Promise you're not kidding …"

"I promise I'm not kidding," Harry said sincerely. "I'd never kid around about this, Y/N."

You believe him, and ten seconds of bravery comes over you, "I was thirteen."

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to figure out what you mean, "Thirteen?"

"My thing for you," you continue quietly, heart racing as adrenaline swamps your legs, "Started the summer I turned thirteen."

Harry hears the slight shaking to your voice and almost misses what you've said. Then it hits him.

"Oh yeah?" He squints at you and pulls up his nose with a smile, a secret little smile that will never belong to anyone but the two of you. The Smile that happened just before Harry leant down and kissed you for the first time, pressed his warm lips against your cold ones and really breathed you in.

He holds it like that for a moment, your lips touching but not moving. Then his hands come up to cup your face, and Harry moves his mouth to one side, just a touch. You open up to him, and he has the brief thought that this is probably the Most Important Kiss Of His Life. His insides curl in on themselves as he gets completely lost in you. Completely lost in how perfect this moment feels and how much finally kissing you feels like a relief.

You can't believe this is happening. You're still tucked into Harry's coat—warm and safe—but now you're joined at the mouth, and Harry's a really really good kisser. He's got his thumbs pressed into your cheeks and his fingers laced through the hair around your ears. When his tongue first licks your bottom lip and then goes searching for yours, you don't think you've felt yourself flicker On so quickly. A soft moan escapes your lips, and Harry's kiss somehow becomes harder, his nose bumping yours where he'd been good at keeping things smooth until then. As quickly as it intensifies, Harry takes a slight step back and drags his mouth away from yours.

"Y/N," he breaths out your name, sealing your lips with one of his thumbs as he pulls back. Harry's taking stock of your face (hopefully) getting used to being this close to you. Noting the way your eyelashes kink out at an odd angle right at the corner of your eye, and the freckle that's so close to the edge of your mouth he's never noticed it before. Harry's can feel your heart has slowed down, and the expression on your face right now is content, but curious. He's also sure he can see fear under it all.

"Well," your voice shakes, because Harry's looking at you like you've only dreamed and now that you're here you're not really sure what happens next. You kissed Harry.

He clears his throat lightly and his hands both fall to hold either side of your neck, "There's no way I'm going back to not being able to do that whenever I want."

Then, he kisses you again. You feel yourself melt against him as Harry's chest presses back against yours. You link your arms around his waist, clutching the back of his shirt between your fingers as Harry leads the kiss with a hand on your neck and the other holding your chin carefully. You've picked up right where the last one let off, hungry and exploring and a little bit desperate (perhaps a lot desperate) to have more of each other.

But then his phone rings in his trousers pocket, right against your hip, and you jump away in surprise.

"Shit," Harry mutters, pulling the stupid machine out, cursing the universe, "Sorry … It's Aiden," he tells you with an eye-roll.

And then you're back to reality. Your drinks have all worn off, your feet ache, your ears are freezing, and you've just made out with one of your oldest, best friends. Shit.

"Oh," you take a hearty step back, hands slipping out from Harry's coat and your body bracing the full brunt of the cold night, "Yeah … That's—

—Aiden," Harry barks the name of his mate down the phone while at the same time hooking his free arm around the back of your neck and pulling you close again. He's not giving up touching you that easily, and he doesn't care, quite frankly, about giving you any room to start internalising or retreating from him, "No, we've gone to get some food … I'll see you during the week sometime. Tell everyone thanks for—Yes, I'm serious … I don't care, saw all you lot last week … I'm hanging up now. Bye."

You listened in on the conversation because it was really all you could do. Aiden was obviously inside the bar, and they were all wondering where Harry got to. We've gone to get some food, Harry told him, so they'd know he was with you. (You supposed he was hardly going to say, 'oh yeah we've been out the front making out') Bits and pieces of the other end of the conversation, you were able to pick up on, but not enough to truly know what was said. By the end of the call, Harry was smiling though, you could hear it in his voice.

His nose found the shell of your ear and Harry leant into you, "Come back to mine, or we can go to yours … Watch a movie, play Scrabble, anything … Just wanna be with you."

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Harry," you murmur, your mind struggling to make sense of what's just happened. You're outside a club in Soho held against Harry's chest with lips that know what he tastes like and a body that's on fire.

"I'm not tired," he shoots back, "Are you?"

"Well, no but—

—Great," Harry turns towards the road, takes a few steps to the curb (you trot along with him under his arm), as he flags down a black cab. "Mine or yours?"

His question is simple, he prompts you to answer by calling your name as he opens the door for you and gestures for you to hurry up and get in.

"Yours," you say.

Harry doesn't speak much in the cab, you figure it's about privacy. You hope it's about privacy. The thirty-minute drive out of the city and to his place feels much longer. Halfway through he reaches over for your hand and gives you a reassuring smile across the back seat. You thought the journey might make you sleepy, the sitting down in a warm car would bring the haze over your eyes and bring the long day to a close in your mind. But you could never feel sleepy with Harry's fingers playing with yours, or when he leans over and kisses your cheek for no reason at all.

At his house, Harry tells you to make yourself at home while he turns on the kettle for a cuppa. You kick your boots off in the hallway, and your feet start throbbing in relief as you follow his retreating form. It's certainly not the lusty, hurried entry you imagined you might have. Which only plants doubts in your mind about what's actually going on between the two of you.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," you call out ahead of you, turning back to the stairs and taking yourself up to Harry's second storey.

Upstairs you don't take long. You're looking a little worse for wear—who wouldn't at 3am—but you're not really in the mood to try to fix yourself. Even if you did Harry would notice, and that felt like something you wanted to avoid. As you walk back to the landing, you wriggle your toes in your socks and happen to look back down the upstairs hallway. You've been in this house dozens of times before but this time feels different. It feels quiet and intimate somehow. Just as you're about to go down the first step, you see Harry's bedroom door is open on the opposite side of the stairs to the bathroom, and you notice something that makes you stop.

The book you got him for Christmas is sitting on his bedside table.

You're standing over it before you realise that your legs have started moving, looking at a picture of Anne, Gemma and Harry, a bottle of water and the book. You pick it up, the cover a little bent and the spine cracked to where he's read. Harry's using the birthday card you send along with the gift as a bookmark. The top of the familiar design sticking out the top of the pages, you can't even really remember what you wrote inside. Something generic probably. Platonic.

Happy birthday, old man! Have a wonderful day, sorry I can't be there in person. Love, Y/N.

The floorboard at the top of the stairs creaks and you turn around to Harry looking surprised to see you standing over his bed. He's got two cups of tea and a family-sized Dairy Milk bar under his arm. Something churns inside you, this was Harry as you'd always known him. Except now you looked at his lips and wondered why the hell you weren't kissing him.

"Oh, yeah, I've been reading that," Harry sees the book in your hands and walks towards you, "It's excellent, unsurprisingly."

A smile starts on your face, "You doubted my selection ability?"

"Never," he returns quickly and then raises his eyebrows at you, "Looking for anything else?"

You feel your cheeks heat and you drop the book back into its place, "No, sorry, I was coming down the stairs and saw … I'm sorry."

Harry passes you a tea, "It was really kind of you to send something over. Was fun having something to unwrap on the day."

"I'm glad," you smile and take a sip of the tea. It's sweet, and you screw up your face, "This is yours."

Harry watches you with a strange expression on his face as the two of you swap mugs. He's worrying his bottom lip, obviously weighing something up in his mind. You see it when he decides what he' going to do about it.

"I've got something I want to show you," he tells you finally, tilting his head back to the door. "Wanna come see?"

"What is it?" You ask automatically, but Harry's already walking out the door, and you have to hurry to catch up.

He leads you into his study, and you hover in the doorway as Harry sets his tea and the chocolate down on the desk. He pulls Bananagrams out of the draw and places it next to the mug.

"We're actually going to play Bananagrams?" You ask.

He looks back at you, "You'd prefer actual Scrabble?"

"I didn't know what you meant by—I guess I …"

Realisation dawns on his face, and he widens his eyes, "Oh, you thought it was a euphemism."

"No!" You snap back quickly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks (for the record, yes, you thought 'a movie or Scrabble' was a thinly veiled way of Harry suggesting … something else), "No, I just … I just don't think I'll be able to spell words right now."

"I didn't think you were still tipsy" Harry states, shit-stirring.

"I'm not!" You squawk at him. "I'm… I' m—You kissed me!"

He grins, loving the fact he's driven you a little crazy, "Yeah. Want me to do it again?"

Harry's playing with you. He's teasing. And you know it but what you don't know is how he's so confidently jumped to it. Not when you feel like you've been left on the street outside the bar trying to figure out what the hell this means, and what's going to happen tomorrow when he stops looking at you like that. You don't like to think this whole night could've been him playing with you, you don't know Harry to be that cruel. But there's a tripwire in your mind you keep getting snared on.

It's Harry.

"C' mere," he reaches his hand down across the room between you both, "C' mere and kiss me again. You don't seem to be getting it."

"Getting it?" You're cut off by Harry taking two big steps toward you and then planting his lips on yours again.

His palms find your hips, and you hold him in the same spot. It takes a moment for the two of you to find a rhythm, and even then, you're too in your head. You're struggling to remember what little Harry's said about this whole thing. You know he said he had a crush on you and you've gotten the distinct impression he wasn't too fond of your ex. But for all you know Harry's been kissing his mates like this for years but just never gotten around to kissing you. You might've been next on the list. He's a friendly guy. Maybe a crush isn't what it used to be. Or maybe—

He pulls back from your lips with a huffy expression on his face, "Y/N," he says quietly, "I'm a man with an incredibly fragile ego, whatever you're worrying about is really getting in the way of kissing you."

"I'm just—

—Let me show you what I brought you in here for," he interrupts you, takes your hand and tugs you towards the window. Then, he puts a hand on each of your shoulders and directs your attention to the wall.

It's lined with record sale plaques for singles and albums over the years—double Platinums and Gold-Somethings. Harry watches you eyes run over them all, a proud but unsure look in your eye. You're not sure why he's showing them to you, he knows that. He hopes you're not intimidated by them, he's certainly not showing you to try to score any points. There's a sweeter gesture behind it. He points to one leaning against the wall, not hanging. He's got it resting on the bubble wrap it was sent over in.

Stepping up closer behind you, Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, "That one's for you."

"What?"

"I want you to have it, been saving it for you … If I ever got brave enough."

The question falls from your lips before you really think about it, "Why would you want me to have it …"

Harry waits to see if you'll let on you've figured it out, he thought it was pretty obvious really, but you've never been one to elevate yourself or assume, and Harry knows that about you. So, when you don't keep talking, he confirms it for you, "That song is about you."

You just blink, eyes on the framed plaque taking in the name of the song and hearing it in your head.

It's about me? You think you want to hear it, you need to Google the lyrics and make sure you have them right in your head. Harry wrote a song about you. Harry wrote that song about you.

"When … When did you write it?"

"You mean why?" Harry raises his head and steps to stand next to you, he observes your face carefully.

"No, I mean when." You're starring at it like the plaque might answer the question, "When did you write it?"

Harry runs a hand over his head as he thinks, "A few years back, after that time you came out to LA … Didn't record it until this year though …"

Harry watches your face expand in surprise and then crumple back down to confusion. You really don't get it. He's not sure how to make you in one night. He supposes he can't. So he trails his hand up the back of your arm and then around your back, tilting his head down and waiting to see if you'll pull away. When you don't, he kisses the corner of your mouth and then opens his wider to take you lips in his properly.

It's different to the kisses outside the bar, now that you're both out of your outer layers Harry can feel your body against his in ways he's only dreamed, and it's sending everything straight between his legs. Harry's hands explore your back and the curve of your hips, thumbs almost reaching the underside of your breasts but not quite. It's a little awkward when he senses you've felt him hardening between you. Usually, lust clouds that moment, and Harry doesn't mind intimate partners being acutely aware of how they're affecting him. But with you he's a little hesitant, he senses the awkwardness on your side. Friends don't feel those body parts on each other, friends don't… He almost groans when your mouth leaves his without warning.

You think he'll probably change his mind about all this.

"Have you changed your mind?" You ask, not able to stop it.

Confusion colours his features, and his lips smack together, like he's savouring tasting you, "Wha—

"About wanting to be kissing me," you clarify.

"What? No." Harry's eyebrows have shot up, and he's shaking his head, "I barely even started! Didn't I just say I wrote that song about you—why the hell would I—want to do more than just kiss you—You think I'm gonna change my mind?"

You shrug, "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," he stands up straighter and pins you with his stare, "I'm not. I promise I'm not going to change my mind. And I promise I'll never make you feel like you're asking for too much. Ever."

"Now you're trying to make me cry," you say, hearing him repeat back to you the insecurity leftover from your conversation about your ex. You're half kidding with your words but also not. You believe him. You trust him.

Harry grimaces, sways your bodies together gently, "I really hate seeing you cry, could you not? I had other plans."

You sniff through a laugh as Harry wraps his arms around your middle tighter," What plans are those?"

"Well, I literally thought Scrabble," he tells you through a smile, trying his best to make you laugh, "But I'm open to whatever dirty things you were thinking as well."

"You'll win Scrabble."

So, Harry instructs you to bring your tea and your sore feet back into his bedroom. He gets you a fluffy pair of hiking socks and tells you to take yours off, and your tights, and get comfortable on the bed with him and the block of chocolate. You've polished off a family size together before, the sugar going straight to your heads and always leading to a giggly night of reminiscing and Almosts.

This time though, you only get halfway through the tea and Harry pushes the chocolate off the bed onto the floor in favour of you straddling his hips. It started with a stolen kiss against your temple, and then another on your cheek, and one close to your lips, and then you captured his face in your hands and really kissed him. Within a few moments, Harry was dragging you over to him. His hands settle on the swell of your backside as it sits against his thighs and your lips trace the line of his jaw. This was really happening. You'd really let him peel off your dress and flick off your bra. His shirt was somewhere with the forgotten snacks, and you seemed extremely eager to keep feeling his hardness pressed between your legs.

"I swear to god, I never dreamed this would happen," he murmurs, hissing when your hips pressed into his at a different angle, "Was sure I'd be going to your wedding one day, completely miserable and probably end up drunk and causing a scene. Embarrass you so badly you'd never want to see me again, and you'd just run away with your stupid husband."

You pull back and watch Harry ramble, your bare chest rising and falling against his, "You're a real glass half full kinda guy, aren't you?" you smile at him.

"I just," his eyes drop to your chest, nipples puckered for him, and he scrunches them shut then drops his forehead onto your sternum with a big sigh, "This is fucking unreal, and my brain is just struggling to comprehend—you're breathtaking, and I feel like my chest is gonna explode."

"It's also 4am, so there's always the potential your brain is just plain tired," your index finger is drawing circles on the back of his shoulder as Harry leans against you, you pause and run your hand over the back of his head, "Maybe we should sleep for a little … I'll be here when you wake up," you say in response to Harry squeezing his arms around your waist tightly as if you were going to disappear. Or worse, leave.

His indescribable green eyes find yours in the light from the bedroom lamps, "Will you let me hold you while you sleep?"

"Yeah," you nod, although somehow that question seems more intimate than the lack of clothes between you at the moment. You're distinctly less dressed than Harry, who's still got his trousers on, you're only covered by your underwear.

"We don't have to rush this, right? Got all the time in the world now," still, as he speaks his palms trail up your back and then down again, skimming the sides of your breasts, "Just don't wanna miss anything is all."

"I promise I'm incredibly boring in my sleep, won't miss anything," you tease, "Might be the only time you get any peace."

Harry tightens his forearms around your back and finds the soft skin below your ear with his lips—once, twice, three little kisses—"I feel pretty at peace right now, just having you here. Feels like I'm living a dream."

You don't reply for a moment, but you let your body rest against Harry's in a comfortable hug, your voice is quiet, "You really wrote me a song?"

"I did."

"I've always loved that song."

“Well, it's been yours all along."

"Nobody's ever written a song about me."

"I should hope not."

"Are you going to write another one?"

"Without a doubt."

Chat to me here

#OOOO SHIT what have i done #well #1dff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles X reader #harry styles stories #harry styles imagines #harry fic

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cornholio4 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Lady Au: Two Halves of Marinette’s Heart

Author’s Note: Based on Zoe-Oneesama's Tumblr comic Scarlet Lady which is my fave Ladybug fan content or tied along with LadyBugOut. Only there and the amnesiac Adrien in the episode Oblivion do I ship Adrienette. Also happy birthday to Zoe.

@zoe-oneesama

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was smiling as he was riding on the back of one of her boyfriends Luka Couffaine's bike as he had insisted on giving her a ride to school. He and Adrien Agreste had recently revealed their feelings to her and she was torn between them: the cute and nice Adrien and the cool but also dorky like her Luka. It was tough to think it through even after they had both assured her that they don't want to hurt their friendship with her no matter what she choose. It was Alya who stepped in after healing her dilemma had said that she can just date them both since she had two hands for the each of them. Luka and Adrien were fine with this as long as Marinette was happy and it was then their relationship happened over the weekend.

They had let their family know and they accepted it well: Anarka was quite over the top in her excitement, Marinette's parents and embarrassed her by saying that she had got them 2 sons in law; Juleka had likewise already claimed Marinette as her sister in law and Adrien's father... Marinette and Luka looked at him in sympathy when he just shook his head saying that he was too busy to get a chance to tell him. Marinette comforted him with a hug not really liking how her favourite designer was so cold to his own son. Pollen was more than happy about his Miraculous' owner's new relationship and said his queen deserved all the love that she gets.

Marinette kissed Luka on the cheek after she got off and Adrien was there to greet them as they posed together for a picture smiling which Juleka took with Adrien's photo. Luka and Adrien showed off their custom necklaces around their necks made by Marinette of two halves of a heart with "Marinette's heart" inscribed on them.

"Are you sure that you are ready for everyone to know about you three?" Juleka asked giving Adrien back his phone and they nodded without hesitation.

"I don't really care as much for father's opinion but he seems to like Marinette as an up and coming designer so I think he will give approval." Adrien said with a huffed voice which had them silent.

"I wouldn't want to hide being with Marinette at all; I would sing it with my soul." Luka said Adrien posted the picture on social media with the caption:

Me with Luka Couffaine and our amazing new girlfriend Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

They got in and as students saw the notice they began crowding Marinette and Adrien as they came in holding hands as they went to their classroom. There were students wanting to get a look at 2 3rds of the new couple as they heard the comments:

"Marinette scored herself with 2 cute guys!"

"Are you going to be modelling Marinette's designs now Adrien?"

"So are you going to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Agreste-Couffaine in the future?"

They ignored them and walked into class with Juleka not far behind them to see their excited classmates wanting to know the details.

"So Adrien, will you and Luka be fighting eachother to get the most out of Marinette's time?" Alix asked as Marinette glared at her while Rose was squealing about how romantic it was. Marinette was taken aback when she noticed Lila and Sabrina glaring at their direction while looking quite jealous.

She was shocked by this thinking that she was getting along with Lila and Sabrina was forming a good friendship with her while helping her start over from her toxic so called 'friendship' that she had with Chloe. Marinette's eyes widened when she noticed that Adrien went to get to his seat and their looks were going to his direction, so it was Adrien they were angry at?

"Can I please ask if Adrien has done something to anger you?" Marinette asked as they both shook their heads and there were laughter.

"Marinette, they are just jealous that Adrien and Luka got to you first!" Alya told her grinning as they ended up nodding slightly a bit embarrassed.

"You helped me be more truthful about myself and I still remember how in love that I felt when I heard you badmouth that terrible Scarlet Lady!" Lila said as Marinette was open mouthed wondering just could she possibly remember that since she was Volpina at the time. Marinette did remember that while she was telling the love struck Volpina that she hated Hawk Moth more than Scarlet Lady, that she a bit scared that Volpina was going to kidnap her as a bride for her comment alone.

"You've always been so nice to me Marinette and never held what I did for Chloe against me, even when I tried to steal your diary for her and lied my way into your room. You've been more of a friend to me than Chloe ever was and you are so amazing." Sabrina told her as Marinette didn't know what to say.

"I bet Luka and Adrien wouldn't mind if you wanted to date Marinette as well, if Marc is alright with Nathaniel wanting to go after Marinette as well." Rose suggested as Marinette, Sabrina, Lila and Nathaniel were now red in the face.

"Dupain-Cheng!" screamed an unwelcome voice as the entire class groaned in unison as they should have dreaded this reaction as Chloe came in looking angrier than they had ever saw her which was quite an accomplishment for her. "How dare you steal my Adrikins away from me! I could care less if you wanted to waste your time with that loser with the guitar as losers belong together, that do you think that I was going to sit back and let you keep them both for yourself when Adrien is mine!" Chloe thundered as the class glared at her.

"Watch what you say about Marinette or my brother!" Juleka said speaking up using courage that almost never comes to her.

"Adrien is not a prize to be won or yours to claim Chloe; it's his choice who he wants to be with!" Marinette told her as Chloe smirked getting out her phone.

"Managed to get a picture of your little notebook when you had it open and wasn't looking Dupain-Cheng." Chloe said showing off a drawing of a love heart around Chat Noir as Marinette was open mouthed at that picture being shown to the class and red in her face but while angry at Chloe, Adrien couldn't help but smile a bit at the picture. "So do you want to claim the mangy cat as well Dupain-Cheng with how pathetic you are?" Chloe snarked looking victorious but Adrien spoke up.

"Nothing wrong with having a celebrity crush Chloe, I have one on Marigold myself." Adrien said taking out his notebook and showing that it had a photo of the Bee heroine Marigold with a heart drawing around it as Marinette was redder in the face while Chloe was open mouthed.

"Nothing wrong with that dude, she is pretty much the best hero that Paris has now!" Nino said with everyone smiling and nodding in agreement besides Chloe and Marinette. Marigold has with her fighting tenacity, warm comforting words to Akuma victims after they were being freed and happy to help civilians in need made her a more popular hero. She had given interviews and how valued Chat Noir was as a partner and helped Paris realise how hard he had to fight against the Akumas.

"Excuse me but Scarlet Lady is by far Paris' best hero!" Chloe retorted by Alya got out her phone and showed the poll that the news station had made asking Paris citizens who they liked the best.

Marigold was in the lead followed by Chat Noir, Maotif the one time temporary Chat Noir was in 3rd place and in a very distant 4th place with barely 1% vote was Scarlet Lady. "Paris disagrees Chloe." Alya told her and Chloe was furious. People were being interviewed and the stories of people's interactions with Scarlet Lady were now circulating.

"Adrien, you can't seriously be okay with this! I'm your friend and we would be much better than stupid Dupain-Cheng!" Chloe told Adrien but he shook his head.

"'Were' your friend Chloe, 'were' as in we used to be and haven't really been friends for a long time but I am just making it official!" Adrien thundered and Chloe was open mouthed and this surprised the class. "Sorry Chloe, I have tried to give you some time to better yourself but you keep pulling these stunts while being a cruel bully to our classmates and treating me like a possession of yours. Calling my girlfriend and my new bro losers was me losing all patience and I can't pretend anymore. I am sorry Chloe but I can't be friends with you anymore, you are different from the friend that I used to have." Adrien said and Chloe furiously charged at Marinette.

Adrien caught her hand and glared at her hard before letting go, Chloe began ranting and shouting on the spot while kicking the desk and Ms Bustier had to tell her off and send her to the principal's office.

"Sorry about that Adrien..." Marinette said since as much bad blood as there was between her and Chloe, the bully did used to be a friend to Adrien.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, just keep being the girl that I love." Adrien told her and she smiled back.

Later in the week, after school they were at a park bench as Marinette was at Luka's lap and Adrien was in Marinette's as the three relaxed together. However they heard screaming and saw an Akuma attacking people in the streets.

Marinette jumped out of Luka's lap and helped Adrien up who was in a similar panic as her's. "Sorry guys, I hate to break up a perfect moment but... I have to get a cake to Nadja and I don't want to be earlier than I was last time since it didn't go so well..." Marinette said thinking on the spot.

"Don't worry... I just remembered an event that my dad would want me to be at..." Adrien said as they both ran off in separate directions.

Luka smiled as she dusted himself off and went home chuckling at them, after a few days of this did they really think that he would not pierce it together? No matter, this means that he could talk to Adrien about Marigold and bond over them crushing on her.

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slowly-writing · 4 years

Text

Whispers

Avengers x Teen!Reader

Word count: 1.8K

Requested by @shady80smusicsingercolor : Avengers x teen!reader Where the reader is a cheerleader at the high school that Peter goes to, reader was during school hours when the teen heard the rest of the squad talking crap about them,teen gets upset,and after teen decided to skip practice,when they arrive to the avengers tower,Steve was the first one to notice but yet haven't notice the sadness in the reader face,but then realized the teen should be in practice,Steve now notices the teen face, calls for the team,and team comfort her

A/N: this was requested so long ago (literally April 10th), and I’m so sorry it took me so long. Thank you for your patients!

“Bye Pete, I’ll see you back home. I’ve got practice after school,” you remind the boy, waving as you turn the corner out of the cafeteria. You always left lunch a little early. Your next class was across the school and you really didn’t like to be late. So that’s what brought you here, alone and hearing voices ahead of you. Normally you wouldn’t think much of it, being in a school there’s constantly someone somewhere, talking about something. But then you heard your name.

You paused creeping close to the corner, but not quite rounding it. Listening to the voices you recognized as your teammates.

“What’s the deal with y/n and Peter? She’s always with him...I wonder if they’re dating,” Betty whispers to the group you can’t quite see.

“They can’t be. She’s way too good for Parker. It’s just a charity thing. Cause she lives with the avengers and he works there or whatever. She probably pities him,” Brad counters and you shrink further in on yourself.

“She’s kind of a weirdo too though. With that whole mysterious backstory and weird accent she tries to hide. Where’s she from? And how did she end up at the avengers tower?” Liz joins in and your frown deepens.

Did they really think you were shallow enough to think you were better than Peter? Just because he wasn’t on the football team? If only they knew how awesome he really was. And why did they suddenly want to know everything about you? They never asked before and you don’t really want to unpack their analysis of your home life anyways. That was none of their business.

You silently turn around, taking the long way to class. You really don’t want to see any of them right now.

xxxxx

When the final bell rang you sat at your desk, debating whether you could face practice. They don’t know you heard them gossiping, and it hurts more that they said it all behind your back, so you shake your head sending a quick text off to your coach, claiming you have a migraine, and start walking home.

You kept running over the things they had said. They really thought Peter was lame? After everything, you’d thought they’d gotten to know him. He’s the coolest person you’ve met, even without the whole spiderman thing. He was sweet and super passionate about the things he enjoyed. He was smarter than you could ever hope to be, but you never minded listening to him in the lab as he rambled about the new web shooters he was working on. You think he’s amazing, and you know that’s more than your massive crush talking.

Then there was the fact that they thought you were hiding things. It’s not like your living situation was a secret, but it wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You were born in Sokovia and lived there with your parents until the attack with Ultron happened. Most of that day is a blur, a mix of confusion, chaos, and repressed memories. But you know Steve got you out, but your parents were lost in the tragedy.

Steve and the other avengers felt some sort of responsibility to you. You’re still not quite sure why, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. A lot of people from your hometown came out of it with nothing, and the team is always sure to help when they can, but you’re grateful for your new life and all that it’s given you.

You’re so lost in thought you don’t even register that you’re almost home until you reach the front door of the tower. You smile weakly at the security guard and make your way to the elevator, silently praying nobody is home. As the doors open you see your prayers haven’t been answered, but the silver lining is Peter’s not there yet. Maybe Steve will forget you have practice today.

“Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have practice after school?” shit.

“Uh yeah...it umm. Got cancelled. Last minute...gardening emergency. They had to close the field for the day,” you wince and Steve raises an eyebrow. “I gotta go. Homework.”

With that lame excuse you scramble to your room, closing the door behind you and flopping face down on the bed.

xxxxx

“Hey, Peter. Did y/n seem off to you today? She seemed upset when she got home from school,” Steve asks Peter in the lab, Peter furrowing his brow before responding.

“No, not that I noticed, but I haven’t seen her since lunch. Maybe practice was rough, I know they’re getting ready for that competition in a few weeks,” Peter says softly, trying to figure out how to help you.

“No, practice was cancelled. They closed the field,” Steve’s words cause Peter’s head to snap up.

“No they didn’t. I saw them practicing after school. The soccer team was on the field too. I didn’t look too close because y/n says it’s embarrassing when I watch practices, but I know it happened,” Peter stands, setting his tools aside, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve follows him out of the lab, and not five minutes later, there’s a knock on your door.

“Coming,” you yell, only to immediately shrink back after opening the door. One look at their faces and you know they’ve caught you in your lie, “hey.”

“I think we need to talk,” Steve says in his captain voice and you let out a sigh, opening the door enough for them to follow you into the room.

“Why did you skip practice?” Peter’s head is tilting to the side like a confused puppy, and you have to remind yourself that this is a serious conversation, not a time to fawn over how cute he is.

“I just-”

“And don’t try to lie again,” Steve cuts you off. The man really knows you too well.

“You know how in movies and TV shows cheerleaders are always such jerks?” They both silently nod, “and how when I moved here I tried really hard to fit in so they’d be nice to me?” two more nods. “I thought it worked but it turns out that in real life they just say the mean things behind your back when they think you aren’t listening.”

“What’d they say?” Steve’s voice is softer now, he’s always been afraid of you having problems at school. He knows his fair share about bullying, and knows kids will always attack anything different. Your accent may have faded over the years, but it’s still clear that you’re not from here and you’re not quite used to the New York lifestyle. Back home everything was smaller, but you’re always excited to learn about your new home. It’s rare to see you without a smile on your face and he always hoped your naive compassion would save you.

“They were talking about how weird it was that I kept secrets about why I lived here and…” you trail off, looking at Peter. He looks ready to go to war for you, and you don’t want to admit the rest out loud, “that I must only hang out with Peter out of pity. But it's not true! Sometimes I think it’s the other way around. You’re so sweet and smart that sometimes I think the only reason you spend time with me is because you feel bad for me. The freaky kid from another country with no family. I try to fit in a school, so I don’t talk about my home, and I’ve learned to talk like they do. But no matter what I do, I still stick out. Maybe it’d be easier for you if we weren’t friends at all.”

By the time you finish your eyes are firmly locked on your hands in your lap, tears building up in your eyes.

“That’s not true,” Peter says firmly, in a rare show of anger. For a moment you think he’s mad at you, until he continues and you see the real object of his anger. “I don't hang out with you because I pity you, or I think I have to. I hang out with you because I like you for who you are. You make me feel normal. Not like the geeky kid at school everyone likes to tease, or the hero the city looks to for help. With you I’m just Peter. You listen to me ramble about tech I know you couldn’t care less about and you tell me about cheerleading moves that are so foreign to me they may as well be in a different language, but it doesn’t matter. We’re there for each other, it’s what we do. And I wish I could’ve been there for you this time. I know what it’s like to feel like you have to keep secrets but you don’t have to do that with me.”

You let his words sink in, letting him brush away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks before Steve speaks.

“And you have a family. I know you lost yours in Sokovia and I can’t even imagine that pain, but you’re not alone. You have all of us and any one of us will be here to listen to you, or take your mind off of it for a bit. What happened to you was traumatic, you lost your whole life and it’s okay not to want the kids at school knowing that. But you don’t have to forget where you came from to fit in. Wanda makes food from Sokovia on Peitro’s birthday every year and I know she still keeps her journal in Russian. You’re allowed to miss your home, y/n. It doesn’t make you wierd, or ungrateful. It makes you human,” Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean into his side.

“I do like it here, but it’s just so hard sometimes,” you admit softly.

“We know it is, but you’re not alone,” Peter tells you and you smile up at him, gently taking his hand in your own.

“Now, I think you need a fun, relaxing night with no responsibilities. What do you say to a movie night. We’ll watch whatever you want,” Steve proposes and your smile widens as you nod. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go gather the troops, and you two come join us whenever you’re ready.”

It’s silent for a few moments after he leaves and you soon realize you’re still holding Peter’s hand. You go to pull away but his grip is firm. His other hand on your chin, drawing your eyes to his. “I mean it you know. I like you, as more than just a friend.”

“You do?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s a happiness in your eyes you can’t hide and Peter’s whole face lights up.

“Yes really. I have for a while now, I just never knew how to tell you. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

“I do,” the words tumble out of your mouth before he’s even done speaking, but he’s smiling, and so are you. For now it all feels right as he gently presses his lips to yours. The whispers in the hallways don’t matter, because you have a family, and it seems you may have a boyfriend now too.

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @stop-drop-and-drumroll

#Peter Parker x reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x teen!reader #Cheerleader!reader #marvel #marvel reader insert #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers reader insert #Whispers

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 26.5

➻ pairing: this chapter centers around yeosang x wooyoung ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut, fluff ➻ Word Count: 3.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part 1.5

“Hey, did you take my green blanket?”

“Hm?”

“My green blanket! The one Jongho got me for my last birthday?” Wooyoung puffs his cheeks full of air when his companion merely squints at the ceiling rather than responding. “You’re using it right now, aren’t you? Under the comforter? You just took my blanket, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yeosang hums, pulling the sheets up closer to his chin. Wooyoung strains to see if there’s a flash of green underneath, but he isn’t able to catch anything at this angle. “Besides, what good are birthday presents for someone who doesn’t even have a birthday?”

Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. The question is far from offensive or harsh; Yeosang tends to be blunt more than anything else, and he does have a valid point in the question since Wooyoung truly has no recollection of when his birthday is. Although it was Yeosang’s idea to claim his birthday as the day he was set free. The warmth in Yeosang’s eyes when he suggested that was far too enticing to say no to, so Wooyoung agreed without batting an eye.

“You are a terrible liar, Kang Yeosang,” he hisses out, edging closer to the bed. Yeosang lifts a brow but doesn’t budge.

“I don’t lie.”

“You omit the truth, and that’s the same as lying.” Wooyoung lifts a finger to jab it in the blond’s direction, unamused when the other cracks a small knowing smile.

“How so?” He inquires nonetheless. The teasing gleam to his gaze doesn’t let up for a second.

“You know how so!” Wooyoung protests quickly. He pulls himself further onto the bed, tossing all his weight onto Yeosang’s torso, and the other man releases a groan from the sudden pressure. “I hope you pass out, you thief.”

“God, have you gained weight? You seem heavier than usual.”

“Heavier than usual? Heavier than usual! Why you little–” Wooyoung reaches behind Yeosang’s head and snatches up a pillow before smacking it hard against the Elitist’s face. Yeosang manages to bring his arms up in time to block a majority of the impact, but Wooyoung’s superior position allows him to work around his arms and hit him on the crown of his head. “I hope that feels heavier than usual too!”

Yeosang huffs out a laugh in response. He snatches the pillow from Wooyoung’s hands when Wooyoung next brings the cushion down, pushing it to the side and grabbing hold of his wrists with such ease that Wooyoung’s heart practically jumps in his chest. Yeosang twists his body despite being caught under the sheets, and all of a sudden Wooyoung is the one being pinned to the bed, red rushing up his neck at the intimacy of the position.

“H-Hey,” he mutters as he glances away from Yeosang’s prying gaze.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Woo.”

“I know, I was just teasing you!” Wooyoung stretches his grin, cheeks scrunching up as he beams at Yeosang without a care in the world. The Elitist doesn’t seem pleased with his quick response though and continues his train of thought a moment later.

“You could afford to put on a bit more weight at that. And we could spend more time in the training room if you’d like. I’d be hap–”

“Oh hush, you.” Wooyoung blows air into Yeosang’s face to shut him up, and the tactic works out rather well for him seeing as Yeosang blinks against the assault with confusion painting his features. “Unlike you, my stomach was never fit for a prince’s diet or a royal meal plan. But I can eat a bit more if that would make you happy!”

“I like you just the way you are,” Yeosang hums in response. He speaks the words so softly that Wooyoung hardly catches them but when he does, the flush on his cheeks deepens to a scarlet.

“You can’t tease me about my weight, tell me that it wouldn’t hurt to put on a few pounds, then say something like that,” he grumbles under his breath, shoving a hand against Yeosang’s shoulder. The attack is half-hearted at best, and Yeosang laughs it off without too much care.

The Elitist lets the sound fade into silence, leaving his gaze to trace over every millimeter of Wooyoung’s features. The heat in his state is not lustful or seeking anything more than the gentle peace hanging in the air between them, but Wooyoung still finds himself flustered more than anything else.

“What are you doing that for?” Wooyoung wriggles a bit under Yeosang’s weight. He doesn’t manage to budge the man even an inch, completely stuck under both his grasp and gaze.

“Let me admire my lover in peace.”

Wooyoung squeals at the nonchalant attitude Yeosang holds and the way he says the words like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He frees one hand from Yeosang’s hold and snatches up the same pillow from before, sending it cascading into the side of Yeosang’s head.

“Excuse me, wh—”

“You’re excused!” Wooyoung interrupts before smacking Yeosang once more for good measure. Yeosang huffs and rolls off Wooyoung to escape the relentless attacks with the pillow, not bothering to fight back. As he slips out of the way, Wooyoung catches a flash of green under the black comforter. “You did steal my blanket!”

“Is that truly what you’re worried about right now?” Yeosang slips off the bed to stand upright, hands coming to rest on his hips as he blinks down at Wooyoung.

“Yes because you lied to me!”

“All I said was that I didn’t know what you were talking about.”

Wooyoung pulls himself into a sitting position and inches ever closer to where Yeosang stands by the edge of the bed. He pouts out his lower lip as far as he can in a desperate attempt to win the man over but it is to no avail because Yeosang just arches a brow and smiles a little.

“You look so cute when you act hurt.”

“Make it up to me and I won’t be hurt,” Wooyoung pleas with wide eyes. Yeosang slips a finger under his chin and lifts him up a bit more. Wooyoung follows the motion but Yeosang dips away at the last second, lips merely ghosting over his, and the younger of the two gasps at the audacity of the other’s teasing. “You are absolutely cruel!”

“I can’t help myself when you look as cute as you do.” Yeosang begins to pull back, but Wooyoung isn’t about to let him get away with it this time, so he reaches up to snag the man by the collar, yanking him back down so hard that Yeosang has to grip the mattress to keep from crushing Wooyoung.

“Do it properly.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I will find someone who can do it prope–” Pressure invades Wooyoung’s mouth, and he doesn’t get the chance to finish that train of thought thanks to Yeosang’s lips crashing into his. Wooyoung sighs into the kiss, a content smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and sits back to let Yeosang do most of the work. Yeosang doesn’t stay long, releasing Wooyoung’s lips with a wet pop and harsh glare that doesn’t scare Wooyoung in the slightest. Huffing out a laugh, the dark-haired man brings a thumb to his lips and wipes at the excesses saliva Yeosang left there. “Better.”

It is still difficult to ignore the dull pain that blossoms in his chest when his lips part from Yeosang’s, but he has at least gotten better at not letting that pain shine through his features or show in the slightest. Whether Yeosang doesn’t notice or he is merely pretending to ignore it, Wooyoung does not know, but he does not particularly care either. Not talking about it saves them both from further pain that neither of them wants.

“I put up with too much of your teasing.” Yeosang readjusts his tunic, pulling the white silk back into its original resting place. Even with all the man’s insistence that he hates every part of his past, he sure does wear many regal and fancy clothes. Not that Wooyoung is complaining in the slightest because Yeosang just looks so pretty: blond hair that falls in soft waves around his face just long enough to be pulled back into the smallest ponytail, dark brown eyes with gold flecks throughout them, that precious birthmark hiding beside his eye that his side bangs cover all too often. The silk regalia he always wears on casual days like these only add to that beauty. Wooyoung could spend hours sitting back like this and staring at him. “Perhaps that should be your next lesson.”

“Hm, maybe, but if I really wanted to, I would have you pinned to the bed right now. Especially with how pretty and delicate you look in that shirt.” Wooyoung grins a bit too cheekily, and Yeosang rewards him with a sharp flick to the forehead. “Ow!”

“You were asking for it.”

“You are oh so cruel and harsh, Prince Kang,” Wooyoung laments with a dramatic flair to his tone. He throws himself back onto the bed, releasing an all too fake sob as Yeosang just rolls his eyes and ignores the other’s antics.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Would you rather me call you sir? Perhaps while you have me face do–” Yeosang darts forward, clapping a hand over Wooyoung’s prattling mouth without hesitation, and he glances around the room nervously even though it is empty aside from the two of them.

“You’re too bold,” he hisses before pulling his hand back and letting Wooyoung grin happily to himself.

“I’m just trying to get to the point here! You promised to teach me more today, and I haven’t heard you breathe a word about that, so hurry up mister!”

“You and your teasing mouth have prevented me from doing so actually.” Yeosang catches Wooyoung by the chin, and he inches the man’s head up with just his index finger. Wooyoung’s smile stretches wider in defense, and the other can only manage a deep sigh as pulls away. “What is it you want to learn today? Anything particular in mind?”

Wooyoung slides himself over to the edge of the bed and tosses his legs over the edge. He taps at his chin as he thinks, trying (and failing) not to get distracted by the soft expression Yeosang wears currently.

“Um, you said – you said you had to go to lots of dances when you were younger right?”

“I did, yes,” Yeosang hums. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that overtakes his lips as Wooyoung speaks, and once again, Wooyoung finds himself slipping further into distraction.

“W-Well then, teach me to dance!” Wooyoung hops to his feet and looks Yeosang in the eye. They stand at about the same height; perhaps Wooyoung is only a centimeter shorter at best, but Yeosang would most likely say it’s more like two or three centimeters.

“We don’t have music though?” Yeosang’s voice lifts at the end of his sentence, changing the statement into a question, and Wooyoung slaps the flat of his hand down hard against Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Do we really need music? Isn’t it all about – um, I don’t know how dancing works actually.”

“Counts, Woo, it’s all about counts.”

“Okay, see! That’s not music.”

“But it’s counts related to the tempo of the music,” Yeosang hums but he slips an arm about Wooyoung’s waist nonetheless and tugs him closer. “I suppose coming up with a tempo of our own wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait, which part are you teaching me?” Wooyoung inquires as Yeosang guides one of his hands up to rest near his bicep. The blond clasps the other tight in his own hand, pulling it out to the side to hang in the open air.

“The typically female part.”

“I want to learn the male part!” Wooyoung protests, fist balling around the fabric of Yeosang’s delicate shirt.

“You want me to dance to the female’s part?”

“Would it truly be the first time you haven’t taken control?” Wooyoung quips, and Yeosang’s grip on his waist tightens to a point where the younger yelps.

“Don’t think with such a dated mindset, Woo. There are many things a man can do from that position, and I would be happy to teach you those next,” Yeosang purrs, pressing his lips to the shell of Wooyoung’s ear. The younger releases some sort of noise that sounds something like a squeak and a gasp mashed together. Yeosang revels in the sound, and he tosses his head back as a bout of laughter overtakes his body. The sound is crisp and clear in a beautiful way. Wooyoung cherishes it while it lasts, knowing that the Elitist is only ever so relaxed and carefree like this when they are alone.

Yeosang nudges Wooyoung’s hand off his shoulder and catches hold of it before it can fall uselessly by his side. He pulls it to his waist in attempts to urge Wooyoung to take hold of him, and Wooyoung is quick to do so, folding his fingers around Yeosang’s lithe waist.

“You can’t expect to dance properly while standing that far away from me, Wooyoung,” Yeosang grumbles under his breath. He hooks a hand onto Wooyoung’s shoulder and tugs him forward until their chests have no space between them. Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath, stifling a smile when he sees the flush that rises up Yeosang’s neck as he tightens his grip on the man’s waist.

“Did all the princesses have the pleasure of dancing so close to you?” Wooyoung hums. His eyes remain wide and innocent, but Yeosang knows better than to believe the innocence there.

“You are the only one I would ever allow this close to me.”

Wooyoung is pleased with the response even if it catches him off-guard because he was honestly expecting another jibe from the man. The small statement has more than one meaning, and Wooyoung basks in all the possibilities, taking a moment to just absorb Yeosang’s warmth and presence.

“Alright, you don’t get to ignore my instructions just because I’m letting you lead this one time. I expect you to pay attention to every detail.”

“This one time?” Wooyoung laughs.

“I won’t let you lead again after this.”

“Oh, you’ve said that before but–”

“Think with your brain not with your dick, Jung Wooyoung!” Yeosang squeezes hard at the muscle under Wooyoung’s shirt, and he releases a yelp from the sharp pain that spreads quickly through his body.

“Okay, okay! I’m thinking with my head! And not that one!”

“Remind me why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me?” Wooyoung grins, and while Yeosang doesn’t provide a verbal response, he has one in the way Yeosang smiles before clearing his throat and standing up a bit straighter.

“Just move with me. It’s rather simple to get the hang of, but there will be a lot of stepping on toes until you get a feel for your partner.” Wooyoung’s lips don’t even part a centimeter before Yeosang sends him a pointed glare that has him snapping his lips back together with no further comment. “When my right foot moves backward, step forward with your left. We can work up to you leading the movements, but if you were in full control, you would push against my hand to signal that you’re taking a step forward.”

Yeosang’s right leg slips away from Wooyoung’s left one, and he chases after him, taking a hasty step forward and hitting the tip of Yeosang’s steel-toed boot. Wooyoung backtracks immediately and tugs back, but the blond keeps him firmly planted to the spot.

“Easy, Woo… move a bit slower than that. It’s not a race; it’s a dance. It’s supposed to be slow and rhythmic.”

Wooyoung lets Yeosang guide his next steps, blindly following them without focusing on any of the words coming from his lips. They sway to an inaudible beat, a song only the two of them can hear, an unspoken melody that holds them to each other. As it turns out, Yeosang doesn’t need to explain anything because Wooyoung’s body picks up on the guidance within minutes.

“I think you got it,” Yeosang whispers eventually, and neither man is sure how long they’ve been dancing. They don’t pull away though; instead, Yeosang slips his hand free of Wooyoung’s and moves it up to his other shoulder. Slowly but surely, he intertwines his fingers behind Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung takes it as a sign to drop his hand to Yeosang’s waist, and he mimics the position with a faint smile. Yeosang arches his back against the touch. He’s in the middle of a laugh when Wooyoung drops his forehead atop the other man’s, eliciting a quiet gasp from him that devolves into a huff of laughter again less than a second later. “We aren’t even dancing anymore.”

“Do we need to be?” Wooyoung lets his eyes flutter shut. Every sense is so full of Yeosang that it’s almost overwhelming: the heat of his warm skin under the silk, the soft sounds of his breathing and slightly lisped tone, the smell of that goddamn cologne someone bought for him some time ago that Wooyoung adores so much, Wooyoung can even still taste Yeosang on his lips from their earlier kiss. And when he opens his eyes once more, there Yeosang stands before him – real, living, able to be seen and held and cherished.

Too often do those dreams come, the ones where Yeosang remains out of reach or broken and hurt and dying before Wooyoung’s eyes but he can’t do a thing to stop it. They come in a wide variety of nightmares, a plethora of troubles and hardships and pain, and yet there is only one that never arises.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Yeosang murmurs once he recognizes the gleam in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Come back to me, Woo.” He’s a bit too far gone as it is, too lost in thought and caught up in the frightening possibilities. Yeosang’s hands slip loose and fall forward to cradle Wooyoung’s face in his palms.

The one that has never awoken in his mind is the one where Yeosang is his master, his owner, the one dealing punishment after punishment, and if Wooyoung dwells on the thought for too long, he can start to hear the crack of the electric whip in his ears.

“Come back to me,” Yeosang says a bit louder this time. Something binds Wooyoung to the words, and he finds himself leaning into the warmth of Yeosang’s touch. “There we go, come back to me. Just like that…”

“’m sorry.” Wooyoung’s words are a bit slurred and broken, but he’s free of the intruding thoughts for the time being at least.

“That’s enough lessons for today, I think.” Yeosang hums as he trails a thumb over the skin of Wooyoung’s cheek.

“Let’s stay like this a little while longer, please.”

“Whatever you want, Woo.”

“All I want is you,” Wooyoung whispers, slipping his head away from Yeosang’s so that he can bury his face in the man’s neck. A few of the longer strands of blond hair tickle his ear, and a shiver travels down his spine with the sensation before he settles comfortably there.

“I know.”

“I would have you for the rest of my life if you let me.”

“You know I would.” Yeosang reaches a hand up to cup the back of Wooyoung’s head. He combs through the charcoal locks there, fingernails brushing over his scalp in such a way that Wooyoung feels himself growing drowsier by the second. “We’ll see what fate has in store for us.”

“What if I don’t want to wait that long?”

“You don’t have to. I’m yours now.” Wooyoung smiles against Yeosang’s skin, and a sigh passes through his chest as Yeosang shifts to press a kiss to his hair.

“I did pretty well for myself, I suppose. Getting a prince all on my own.”

“You said that as if there was ever any doubt of me falling for you,” Yeosang laughs softly. “But I must admit… a traitorous runaway prince and an ex-slave. Fate can’t even try to tell me that—”

Wooyoung cuts the thought short, pulling up with haste to slot his lips against Yeosang’s much smoother ones. He knows the man will complain later – tell him that the more they kiss, the more painful it will get in the long run – but right now, Wooyoung just wants to appreciate every inch of Yeosang while he can. If fate wishes to deprive him of that one day, then Wooyoung doesn’t want to look back with any regrets about what they could have done or said in their time together.

For now, it’s enough. The feel of Yeosang’s lips sliding over his and returning the kiss with equal parts love and passion. The hands tangling in his hair as Wooyoung grips harder at his waist and pulls him impossibly close. He feels like he’s fifteen again in those damp and dark alleyways on Aera, shaking from the cold but oh so warm thanks to the weight of Yeosang’s words that night. He feels like he did the moment Yeosang set him free, the moment he promised that he would take care of Wooyoung. He wouldn’t let him be alone anymore, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and he would protect Wooyoung no matter the cost.

It’s enough, and in the back of his mind, Wooyoung thinks that it will be enough for a long time to come.

✧✧✧ a/n: okay so this!! is not specified when this interim is set, you can leave that up to your own imagination, just for something more lighthearted important and insightful on our lovely bois 🥺 i was a bit nervous about this and almost decided not to post bc it’s the most forward i’ve been with the mxm content but i am really happy with how it turned out so i hope you guys enjoy it too even if you don’t typically enjoy mxm content !! and i also listened to pov by ariana grande while writing it and that was a mistake :’)

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