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hollandroos · 6 years ago

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How Could I Not | Four

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Tom Holland x Reader | Fwb with an unexpected pregnancy

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Angst. It gets a little heated near the end but nothing too smutty.

Disclaimer: There’s some trouble between the reader and her parents in this & I know that everybody's parents are different, but for the sake of the storyline !!!! Please remember to reblog and share if you liked this chapter and this series!! honestly, I love writing this but I write it a lot faster when it gets good feedback :)

“Are you sure about this?”

Tom was close compared to how distant his voice seemed. In fact, he was right there next to you, pouring exactly four drinks. But while two were filled with wine – red and chilly, cold beneath his bare fingertips, two of them contained soda. It was orange soda to be exact, your favourite and you wondered if it was a coincidence that Tom had picked it up on the way over.

Orange soda, the colour of stale Cheetos or carrot tops. The colour of the screwed up shirt in the bottom of your wardrobe and the plastic forks you made sure not to give to your parents tonight.

“I’m not. I’m nowhere near sure about this.” You admit, tasting the fear on the tip of your tongue as you speak. However, fear was always there lately, a sickly permanent taste. You’d think you’d get used to it after a while but you were yet to.

God, of fucking course you weren't sure about this. There were a hundred and one things you weren’t sure about right now and this was one of them. It made your heart race and palms sweat like there was no tomorrow and not even your loving cat hadn’t dared to come near you all night.

You thought about the fact that you’d rather be working right now because surely that’d be less anti-climactic then what was about to happen and for once you wanted anticlimactic. Lately, all your life had been was climatic and if it were a story, it would’ve been one giant cliffhanger.

“We have to tell them and besides, you haven’t seen my mum in ages. She loves you.” You put on a brave front but beneath that, you were beyond terrified. It didn’t take much to see that. It took Tom, that was all it took. It took just Tom to see that.

Tom tilts his head, a gentle blush taking place on pasty cheeks. But it was easily hidden by the dim, kitchen lighting.

“She won’t after tonight.” He admits.

You agree silently.

The smell of freshly roasted potatoes frolics around the kitchen, fighting with the scent of gravy and a stirfry that Tom had attempted to make before you took over. The boy could bake like his life depended on it, from breakfast goods that warmed your heart and reminded you of home to stuffed, Oreo brownies but he surely couldn’t cook savoury dishes.

There were four plates laying in front of you, each with a fork and knife set neatly beside them. Maybe you’d been a tad pedantic about it, making sure that the cutlery was perfectly straight and the drink had gone in the fridge had gone in hours earlier than needed so that it would chill in time. There had been a timer for the potatoes and you’d kept a close eye on the vegetables, you’d also turned the fire on earlier. It crackled quietly in the corner of the room, red shadows illuminating the walls and the cat lays tiredly mere meters away.

While you’d been doing that, Tom had taken up the task of cleaning your living room. He had vacuumed and cleaned up lifeless rugs, stacked books and even watered plants. Then he complained about the number of dirty mugs you had laying around. Up until now, at least. Because now, he watches you tap one foot against the floor of your kitchen which barely fit the two of you, letting out short huffs of breath as your eyes watch the clock on the wall just across from either of you.

Maybe you disliked inviting your family over because there was no escape. Your apartment was small with one bedroom, a single bathroom and the kitchen and living room were combined. Meaning when they came over, you were practically boxed in. There was nowhere you could possibly run off to to clear your head because yes– they could drive you insane sometimes.

So inviting them over to share your news had prompted many questions from Tom, who was secretly sweating beneath his flannel tee. It had prompted enough questions for you to put your hand up and beg him not to ask any more questions that not even you knew the answer too. He was still questioning everything, but little did he know you were doing it too – just silently.

He was still asking endlessly, even with the food chilling on the oven top and mere moments before they were supposed to arrive. You could only imagine the large grin on your mother's face because finally– she was about to see her daughter after weeks of being apart and your dad surely couldn’t wait to hear about work. You wondered if she’d bring along her famous apple pie or a spare bottle of wine you wouldn’t dare touch.

You were about to let them down, plummet their expectations and make them second guess what they thought they knew about you.

Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with my best friend and look! He got me knocked up but it’s okay.

Your thoughts go unseen to Tom, who tangles his fingers together as he chews on the inside of his lip as he debates whether or not it was the right time to ask what he’d been meaning to ask for a few days now. It was an idea that’d been put forward by Harrison, who was more than eager to move in with Jacob– it wasn’t that Tom was a bad roommate, he just wasn’t home often.

Fearful eyes drift around the small apartment. There was merely room for one. And by one, he meant one. He didn’t mean a pregnant women. Tom was sure some of the windows were broken and sometimes the front door didn’t lock and as his eyes drift over your distracted self, he knows he has to ask. Because he’d never forgive himself if someone broke in and hurt you – he’d never ever forgive himself if someone broke in and hurt you and his kid.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Tom works up the courage to ask. His words are slightly shaky and filled with uncertainty. Of course, he was certain about wanting you to move in, he was, however, uncertain about your answer. “It’s been on my mind for a bit and Harrison mentioned it to me a few days ago, but with things getting pretty serious I thought that I’d ask tonight.”

Your eyes remain on the series of plates and the coolness of the bench beneath clammy palms. “What is it?”

“I just think that… well, your apartment is so small and you’re all on your own.” His throat goes dry. Your eyes seem to widen to the size of saucers. “Harrison mentioned it to me a few days ago because I’m never actually home, I’m always with you and he wants to move in with Jacob anyway–”

“You’re rambling.” You chuckle, feeling a strand of hair fall over your face. It’s quickly brushed back by fidgeting fingers. “What is it?”

Tom sucks in a deep breath, nearly choking on his own excitement that had quickly overtaken nerves.

“Do you want to move in with me? I know it’s a big thing to ask and all but you can take Harrison's old room and I can help more, especially as things progress. I can actually be there for you and that’s– that’s going to be important. I want to be there for you and the baby.”

It’s hardly silent over the gentle purring of the cat over by the fire and the crackle and pop of flames against wood– but for a moment that seems all too distant and Tom can only hear the pounding of his own heart in his chest. He waits for something. Maybe for his heart to tear through his ribcage or for you to laugh in his face. He wasn’t sure which sounded better.

But it’s barely a decision you have to think about.

“You loser, of course I’ll move in with you!” You beam, throwing a set of arms around his shoulders. “As long as it’s okay with Harrison then I’m down, I don’t want to have him kicked out of his own home.”

“Of course It’s okay with Harrison, he was actually the one that suggested it,” Tom says while holding you against his chest. You and Tom practically lived together anyway. His clothing was scattered across your bedroom floor and you were sure your hairbrush was laying on his bathroom sink.

Your best friend wears the same flannel shirt he wore last Christmas to your family get together straight after returning from his own. The thing is a navy blue and reminded you of the apple pie your aunt had made. Not only that, but it drew your mind back to sneaky kisses between two best friends under the mistletoe and tiptoeing up to your old bedroom to open thoughtful presents. He got you a necklace, you got him a watch. The watch sits around his wrist today, pressed against the clothed skin of your back. And the necklace? The silver chain with the ladybug charm clung to your neck.

His apartment had a door that locked and a bedroom that could fit a bed bigger than a single. It had working wifi and an oven that didn’t threaten to burn the house down whenever you so much as flicked it on. Your lips curl up at the thought. Then they plummet again.

“Before I move in, we have to focus on surviving this damn dinner.” You let out a sigh, heart beating against Toms' chest and he feels every erratic beat.

Tom ignores his own persisting fears and responds with a small; “We just have to be calm and civil and explain that we have a plan, we’re not kids– we can’t be kids.”

There’s a hefty knock at the door and your arms immediately fall limp, landing at your own side and his body is no longer as comforting as it once was. It was harder when he was tense, the warm flannel of his shirt now rough against your bare hands. Your kitchen is still a mess. Dishes still line the sink and half-filled mugs of tea sit on the coffee table despite Toms urge to down a pot of hot coffee.

“Do you want to get the door? I’ll finish setting everything up.” You offer. Despite the range of food in front of you, you weren’t hungry. Not in the slightest.

Tom sends you a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

“We do.”

Your small ‘we do’ isn’t filled with belief. Instead it’s filled with concern and nearly comes out as more of a question then a statement but if Tom notices it, he surely doesn’t say anything.

Tom had his reasons for inviting you to live with him and you had your reasons for saying yes. But maybe you should’ve gone over them before agreeing so excitedly. Because while you were envisioning finally having enough room in your bedroom, having him there 24/7 to help out when the morning sickness got too bad and having easy access to his wardrobe, Tom was already seeing cots and baby clothes.

While dinner with them was usually filled with laughter, discussions over who’d missed what and comments about how delicious the food was, tonight it was dead silent. Because your parents just knew that something was wrong– of course they knew. They were your parents after all.

They knew you upside down and inside out, having each of the little creases that dotted your forehead and the freckles that padded down your shoulders memorised.

They didn’t have to notice the way you played with your food instead of consuming it or how you sent Tom nervous stares from across the table because they could just feel it the second they walked in. It was suffocating. You were suffocating. It was fair to say that the truth had a hold of you, gripping your throat with such a force.

Toms' knuckles were nearly painfully white beneath the fork and he struggled to get past the first few bites. It was as if the clock was ticking away painfully slow, every second feeling like a minute as he forced himself to chew each bite until the food was nothing more then mush. It tasted it too. He had to swallow with a grimace.

And if your parents were being honest, they’d admit that the news they were expecting was that you’d finally begun dating. That possibly Tom had asked you out on some extravagant date with roses and chocolates because their daughter deserved the best of the best and had later popped the question over a glass of champagne. Oh boy were they wrong. They were so fucking wrong.

“Are you enjoying the food?” You ask with a shaky voice. It was a bullshit question, of course. “Tom helped me out. He’s getting better when it comes to cooking.” You chuckle, sending him a playful glance.

Your mom plasters a genuine smile on her face. “It’s delicious, you really outdid yourself, you too Tom” She beams. Toms' lips curl up. He was a sucker for praise.

You want to thank her but the words are stuck in the back of your throat beneath layers of untold truths and guilt is enveloping you like a cold, unwanted hug. Lying to your parents was always hard, especially when all they held was sincerity and love. It was like kicking a puppy.

You supposed you hadn’t lied to them yet, you’d simply kept a secret. A groundbreaking, life-changing secret that was eating you alive– or taking up space in your belly, growing bigger by the day. One hand ducks under the table, ghosting over the barely-there bump before you straighten out your shirt.

“Anyways,” Your dad coughs, breaking through the sound of cutlery against glass plates. “What have we missed? Catch us up.”

He looked warm, tucked up in a sweater that he’d had in his drawers for years. One that reminded you of going to the park as a nine-year-old and eating ice cream on the beach at twelve. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth that you welcomed from the sun or the warmth that currently flooded your apartment with the fireplace as its source. But the kind of warmth that sent you to bed with a smile, and one that got you out of bed every morning.

You send Tom a glance, one that was practically a plea for help but his eyes remain on his potatoes, fork prodding the things yet they don’t move from the decorative plate.

There was no easy way to say it, really, and maybe you would’ve preferred to tell them through text or a letter in the mail but adulthood meant communicating properly. Even if you do feel like you’re about to choke on your words and throw up. Your heart drops in your chest and you swear you hear it go plonk.

“Me and Tom are moving in together.” You swallow. Looking up, fingers knot themselves in your tangled shirt. “We’re moving in together because I’m pregnant.”

There’s the cringe-worthy sound of a fork hitting the table. It clinks and then there’s the feeling of jaws dropping, mouths falling limp but no words come out. Not Toms, however, he remains still, prodding at his potatoes with a blunt fork and you actually want him to speak up. You want him to defend your decisions – path.

“That second part is a joke, right?” You mom asks. Her voice is as soft and loving as ever, but it held uncertainties. “Honey, I’m glad you’re finally going to be living with someone else, you know we don’t like you living by yourself but–”

“It’s not a joke.” You stop her, finally looking up from your untouched plate. They look on at you in disbelief, your fathers feature held masses of disappointment. “Please, I wouldn’t joke about this.”

But no one says anything, there’s not much to be said and even the sound of your heavy gulp can be heard. You start to wish you’d told Toms parents first. The cat even pokes his head up from his spot by the fireplace, suddenly concerned about whatever was happening over at the dining table.

Tom can feel the tension – anyone would be able to feel it. And he hates himself for ignoring your burning gaze, a plea for help as your parents wait patiently – expecting this to be a joke before you announced the news of your coupling because it’d be about time, right?

He looks up, his eyes finding your fearful figure and Tom can’t ignore the guilt that wallows in the pit of his stomach. The girl he’d long promised his heart to even if he hadn’t realised he had fully committed himself just yet.

So finally he budges, placing his fork down.

“Mr and Mrs Y/L/N.” The brown-eyed boy begins. Every word feels slightly more forced than the last. “This wasn’t meant to happen but it did and I’m sorry, but I–”

“You shouldn’t be sorry.” You dad spits, breaking his own silence as he directs his gaze to the brunette. Tom wants to shrink in his seat but he remains upright, strong.

“Dad–” You try, not liking the bitterness in his tone. Suddenly the end of your skirt is oddly interesting as you toy with the hem, cutting off the blood flow to your fingers. Any distraction was better than none.

He cuts you off. “You shouldn't be the one apologising, we should be. We should be sorry because we trusted you with our daughter. We’ve been nothing but nice to you, welcoming you into our home, to family events. We believed the very best in you – y/n believes the very best in you. She talks about you like you’re her lifeline and you go and ruin her life.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen.” He tries to defend. Toms' voice is shaky – words broken.

“You can say that all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened.” Your dad lets out a sigh, a puff of air escaping his chest and he stands up, dinner long discarded. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

The last comment is directed at you, every word filled with more disappointment than the last.

It’s the type of disappointment that strikes you like a knife. Not a butter knife but a butchers knife – sharp. It keeps plunging deeper and deeper until you feel your walls begin to dwindle and suddenly the end of your skirt isn’t enough of a distraction. And Tom feels his chest ache because he feels it too.

You feel the desire to take Toms hand and twiddle with his fingers, much like you had at the office a week ago. You wanted to roll his fingers between your own, counting every line that indented itself in his palm and caress each of his knuckles, trailing nimble fingers up the veins in his hands that paved the way up his arm.

“I’m not a child, Tom and I have a plan and we’re going to make things work. Starting with moving in together and Tom’s going to help as much as he can through the pregnancy. But I need you guys, I need you both to support this.”

He sucks in a breath, one that’s followed closely by Tom slipping out of his seat.

“I can’t.”

Tom winces as he hears those words but no one notices, not even you who picks up every little thing about him.

“You can’t what?” You ask, suffocating more and more with every pained sentence. Each one was closer to leaving you more heartbroken and let down then the last.

“Support this.” He says exactly what you were expecting but you still hear the dull sound of your own heart breaking in two. “I won’t.”

So you stop biting your tongue.

“What else am I supposed to do?” It’s a question without a solid, sure answer. One that was asked a little harsher then you intended but your theory is proved right when not a single person around the table answers it. The only move made is your father's heavy footsteps trodding towards the entryway. “Please sit down,” You beg, feeling tears brimming your eyes. Everything is collapsing. You need reassurance. “We can talk about it.”

Your mom's hand rests itself over top of his, asking him to calm down without using her words but fails. He’s closer to leaving now, hand gripping the side of his jacket. The same coat from your graduation, the one you stole once or twice when you knew you’d be staying out late because it was warm and had enough pockets.

“I expected better.” Is all he says. But it’s said through gripped teeth and clenched knuckles.

And through the entire thing, your mom stayed silent. Even when chairs are scrapped awkwardly across wooden floorboards and he begins to walk to the door and she trails behind with a sunken face and saddened eyes. Even when you reach out in desperation – shaky hand trying to take your dads only to be shrugged off.

It’s then that Tom realises he can’t exactly work out who feels worse right about now. Whether it’s you, who was watching your parents walk away with disappointment flooding their veins or your parents who were still in shock. Or whether it was him, who looked at you and saw a hefty fraction of his universe. But now all he could wonder was whether or not he’d ruined your life.

He shoves the thought away, for he’d argue with himself later.

“You can’t just walk out right now, that’s unfair to y/n – your daughter.” Tom steps forward and you take his hand, keeping him back. Instantly, Tom wraps his fingers around your own. “You need to be there for her now than ever and you can’t just walk out–”

“Tom, don’t.” You mutter, feeling the familiar churning in your chest. You shove it away. “Just let them go.”

“They need to be there for you–”

You shake your head. “Just let them go, please. I don’t need tonight going any worse then it already has.”

The sound of the front door closing is heartbreaking but Tom doesn’t see you bite back a sob as you turn your back, heading straight back to the dining table to clean the mess. The meals were still fairly untouched, especially yours. Toms potatoes had holes where the forks had prodded and there was food scattered all over your mom's placemat where she’d dropped her fork.

For a moment you reckon Tom had left too, trailing behind them before leaving to his own apartment. And thinking Tom had left, you place your spare hand over your stomach. Not for a second had you feared that the growing human inside of you was a mistake, you couldn't.

A boy, you feel like he’s a boy. But after heavily evaluating the small photo tugged behind your phone case you decided you couldn’t be too sure.

Suddenly a hand comes down on your shoulder, another reaching over to take the small pile of plates from your hand and they’re placed back down on the dining table with a small clatter. You jump slightly before realising that it was Tom who hadn’t even debated leaving, not after what’d happened.

“Are you alright?” His voice is gentle and filled with concern.

“I’m fine.” You lie right through your teeth. But you couldn’t lie to him, it was pathetic even trying.

He tilts his head, flannel tee now unbuttoned at the top. “C’mon, tell me what’s on your mind.”

You want to ask what’s on his mind, but you know that if you do he’ll just throw the question back at you.

“You didn’t ruin my life, yeah? You couldn’t. I said this was a two-way thing and I meant it, I don’t blame you.” Your eyes hold sincerity. “You know that I don’t blame you, don’t you?”

“I know you don’t,” Tom says truthfully. “And your parents will come around, even if tonight didn’t go exactly as plan.”

“They’re so mad at me.”

“At us, they’re mad at us, yeah?” Tom brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before bringing it to your face where he gently wipes away a stray tear. The warmth stains his thumb. “Did you see the way your dad was looking at me? I think he was imagining sticking that steak knife through my chest.” He snorts but feels you tense and he immediately softens, partially regretting his words. “Look at me, love” He prompts. “It’s okay, they’re probably not even mad. They may just be shocked, this will take a bit to process.”

You sniffle as a fresh set of tears sting the corners of your eyes. “I just… I wanted it to at least go a little different, you know? A hug from my mum would’ve been nice and my dad… oh my god.”

“C’mere,” Tom pulls you into his chest and you welcome the warmth. If there was anything you needed right now, it was him. Scratch that, you needed validation from your parents that this was all going to be okay. Tom was the next best thing. “They won’t stay mad for too long, they love you way too much.”

“We’re still going to move in together,” You stop to hiccup. “and we’re going to make sure this pregnancy is successful and our baby is safe. That’s the most important thing.” You move a hand up to wipe away your tears but find that Tom has already done it and let them flutter shut, breathing in the smell of his flannel shirt.

Toms' heart warms upon hearing the reassurances. “We’re still moving in together, of course. I think that’s long overdue.”

Despite telling him that you wanted to think about it earlier, you were already hooked on the idea. You were hooked on the idea of having your things scattered around the house and mugs in the kitchen cabinets, tangled with his own. There was the thought of sneaking into his room late at night when you couldn’t sleep and him sleeping in between your sheets when he couldn’t do the same. You pondered if he’d make you delicious meals when you were further on in your pregnancy and the cravings had grown insane and if he’d rub your feet after a day of wandering around.

And then you’re thinking about how disappointed your parents are and will continue to be. Because it seems like all you do lately is let them down and this is just another thing added onto a list of many and you want to cry again– even though you’d only stopped mere moments ago.

“Can you distract me for a little bit?” You practically beg, the desire for something– just anything that’d take your mind off of the whole situation plaguing your mind. It was a simple question with a simple answer. Tom wasn’t going to say no to his sobbing best friend.

“What kind of distraction? I think you still have the game of monopoly that I left here a few weeks ago or we could go watch a movie–”

You want to chuckle at the mini list he was creating.

“Tom, not that kind of distraction.” You barely budge from your spot, but your hands had however moved from where your heart beat excessively in your chest. “Something else, yeah? It’s… It’s been a while.”

“Oh.” He mutters under his breath, tilting his head to the side lightly. But he’s still worried. He’s still worried that this is all too much and that you’re barely coping but you’re keeping it inside like you usually do– because it isn’t like you just to spill all of your feelings, not even to him. Not even to Harrison. “We don’t have to if you’re not up to it.” He offers. But you decline with a shake of your head.

“Kiss me, already.” You plead, lips waiting, bare without his own.

And Tom kisses you in the darkness of your apartment with the rain pelting against the windows. But unlike your rushed kisses that are a heavy mix of teeth and tongue, it’s soft and gentle. He’s trying to calm you down. He’s telling you that he’s got you but not through words, instead he does it through the way he moves. You’re infatuated.

Curls, thick and previously brushed back now brush against your face and he holds you with caution, so much so that you swore there may have been a caution sign on your back. But maybe it was in the bags beneath your eyes and the tears that still stained your cheeks. Or the way you held yourself as if you were about to collapse into a puddle of your own feelings.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry about them.” He reminds you. “They’ll come around.”

He reminds you then why you’re best friends. Why the two of you each other have gotten through everything that you have with dignity and pride and why you’ve never been able to let the other go. There’s an invisible string keeping you together, one that was slightly frayed in some places but it never broke. You didn’t think that it could, but the future was unknown.

You taste the soda on his lips, orange flavoured and the scent heightens as he licks your bottom lip with haste.

Somehow, you got to your room. Between breathless kisses and shared touches, you get there and Tom doesn’t waste a second. He knows he can’t because you need a distraction, not for the harsh words to come oozing back into your mind. Instead you’re reminded of how light the bed is beneath you and you’d forgotten lately just how hard yours was compared to his. The sheets are pure cotton, little pieces of it run beneath your fingertips and you mould into – however, you feel more at home beneath his sheets instead of your own.

A part of you does feel like you’re meant to be there, in his instead of your own, laying flat on your back with your best friend above you showing you all the care and affection you long craved.

As Tom sinks down the bed, running his fingers down to where your skirt ends he lets his hand rest for a moment over your stomach. He’s so gentle that you barely feel his hand there, you barely feel nimble fingers flutter over the skin of your abdomen but he does it and you’re aware of it and a small part of you wants to push him away but you don’t.

You shudder and Tom continues his journey, and then you’re okay with his fiery hands on you once more. You’d both been so distracted recently that you’d forgotten what it was like just to be together, focusing on one another the way you were now.

He peels the skirt up first and fingers loop around the hem of your underwear and then you feel as though you’re suffocating in the clothes you’re still wearing. You want them off- and you want him all over you. Your skin is hot beneath his hands, lighting like a fire as he goes and it’s been so long- too long for your liking.

“Tom, c’mon. I know you’re just taking your time.” You whine, feeling the desire in the pit of your stomach. It’s there and it’s eating away at you slowly, begging him to do something.

Tom smiles coyly against your skin, fully aware that he was taunting you slowly. “Relax, love, ‘m taking my time.” He ignores the straining in his pants as best he can, focusing all his attention on you. “We have all night, I’m gonna show you every ounce of love you deserve.”

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jessikahathaway · 8 years ago

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A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been a hot minute. Hopefully this new series makes up for everything J I haven’t written hybrid!au stuff before, but I find it really hot so why the fuck not right?

There will be smut in later chapters!

If you’re not into that kind of stuff, then I wouldn’t read this story.

Based sorta on this J-Drama called Kimi Wa Petto, if you wanna check it out its super cute.

Sometimes you wondered if people actually had brains in their heads. Because, a few people in your place of work were seriously making you think otherwise.

First, it was your intern spilling the offices order of coffee this morning and then leaving early because of an appointment that he so conveniently remembered just as the afternoon droll was rolling around. Then it was a deadline for a project of yours getting pushed up a few weeks, putting more strain on your team then you were willing to force on them, so you took on the majority of the work. Next it was your ex-boyfriend coming by and asking for the keys to your newly single person home as he forgot some of his things in the storage closet in the upstairs office. Honestly, you didn’t really care anymore, although seeing him so nonchalantly walking into your workplace and confirming your co-worker’s suspicions was somewhat humiliating.

And, to top it all off, you had to work late that night.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to dinner with us Miss Y/N?”

You shook your head and waved dismissively at the woman talking to you.

“I’m sure, I need to get this done before the night is over or I will be massively backed up when we get back from the weekend, and I really don’t want that to happen,” you said, not even bothering to look up at her.

You heard someone clear their throat as everyone shuffled out of the room.

Finally, peace and quiet.

The office had a sort of calmness that it didn’t have during the day at this time of night. No other souls were in the building, besides the security guards and you were free to work in peace. Sometimes you purposefully stayed late because then you could work more efficiently than when there were about twenty people in the office.

Although, this meant another night of sleep deprivation.

But, you weren’t really one to sleep restfully in the first place.

The minutes drew into hours and those hours started to stack scarily high.

It was around 3:00 in the morning when you finally pushed away from your desk and started to clean up.

You had finished the organizing of the files and also got a head start on the presentation. Mild inconvenience now will make your life ten times easier in the future.

The wheels on your chair squeaked as you stood up and stretched, finally feeling the blood making its way around your body. You rubbed your tired eyes and then noticed your phone was ringing.

Who the hell would be calling you at this hour? Never the less, it could be someone from overseas calling not being aware that they were being a massive dick. The idea of more work strained your brain, however, you picked it up.

“Hello? This is Y/N,” you said in your calm and level voice.

Your mother’s screeching voice echoed through the phone. “Hello darling! How are you? What are you up to?”

Without thinking about it, you instinctively pulled the phone away from your ear to prevent going deaf, before carefully hovering it near your ear so you could actually hear what she had to say. Not that you cared much.

“Hi, mom… Why are you calling so early?”

A gasp sounded through the phone.

“I’m so sorry darling! Did I wake you? I forgot I was in Paris for a minute there… Anyways, I wanted to confirm something with you.”

Of course she forgot she was in Paris. Probably one of the most extravagant cities in the world and renowned for being the city of love. But of course, it’s easy to forgot you’re there sometimes. Understandable.

“What is that?”

“I remember you gushing about your boyfriend, and I realized I’d never met him! I would love to do so, probably this weekend. I’ll come over for tea and see if I approve of this man in your life. Sorry to wake you, I’ll get going now! Au revoir!”

And with that, the line cut off.

It was very common for your mother to randomly invite herself into your home and cause havoc in your life. She’d told off multiple partners in your life that they weren’t good enough for you, in front of their faces. And of course, no one wants an in-law that’s over bearing anyways. No to mention a complete bitch on top of that.

But, you guess that if you got her favorite tea and made sure that your boyfriend-

Oh fuck.

That’s right.

The dick had dumped you after getting another chick pregnant. He had kept up the façade for two months, secretly meeting with her and helping her through her morning sickness while you woke up to an empty bed and confusion.

And now, your mother was coming over. Expecting to meet your boyfriend that you had been ‘gushing’ about. When in reality, you only had told her you were serious about this man. She probably didn’t even remember his name.

“Noona? What are you still doing here?” A tired voice came through the air.

Taehyung, a new security guard in your building approached you. He’d brought you some snacks one night and you both had bonded over stale Cheetos and cheap beer. He was a good person and not that much younger than you. Just a year. He had a superior named Namjoon that was the head of security in your building and he was just as kind, just a bit stricter.

“Nothing, just busy with work. Paper work and all that shit. Just about to head home though,” you said, grabbing your bag and hauling it over your shoulder.

“Oh, want me to walk you out?” He asked, gesturing towards the door in a ridiculously lavish fashion.

“Sure, sounds good. We haven’t spoken in a while,” you said, heading towards the door with him.

The two of you were chatting on the ride down the elevator and exchanged a few jokes and yawns before the ding of the elevator bell brought you out of your tired state.

“Well, I’m off to protect all your important files,” he said, getting ready to hit the button to go up.

Then, a stupid idea wormed its way into your head.

“Hey! Wait!” Taehyung jolted and stopped, jumping out of the elevator before it shut.

“Um, yes, Noona?”

“Want to be my boyfriend?”

You asked, before thinking about your wording too carefully.

Taehyung turned a bright pink color before choking on air and starting to cough.

“Oh!”

You rushed over and patted him on the back, hoping to help calm his fit.

When he finally got the air back in his lungs he looked up at you with surprise written all over his features.

“I thought it was my job to ask you out?”

You scoffed before shaking your head.

“That’s a sexist statement Taehyung. But, I meant my fake boyfriend. My mom is coming over for tea this weekend and my ex had to go knock another girl up. So, I kind of need a stand in,” you said, wringing your hands together.

“Ah, I was wondering why you would be asking me out so suddenly. And, sorry that happened, your ex is a complete dick who doesn’t know what he gave up. But, I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate it very much,” he said with a cute little blush dusting his features.

Guilt rushed through your system. How could you ask Taehyung to do that? He was so sweet and asking him to lie because your mother is incredibly pushy isn’t right.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hope I didn’t just make things incredibly awkward,” you rushed, hoping to God he wasn’t mad.

You heard a little giggle that lifted your spirits and Taehyung placed his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m actually flattered that you asked me, but, like I said. I don’t think my girlfriend would bite, although I could always ask, wouldn’t kill me to do so,” he said, reaching for his phone. You stopped him quickly.

“No, that’s fine. I should just tell her that he broke up with me and take the heat.”

The idea displeased you greatly, due to the fact that you would never hear the end of it. ‘Why did he leave you?’ ‘If you were doing everything that I did as a wife this would’ve never happened!’

Now you knew why dad had died so early.

You were starting to like the idea more and more yourself.

Taehyung gave you a sad smile before heading towards the elevator again.

“Well, I better get back to work, Namjoon-Hyung with probably already kick my butt for being out this long anyways. Wish me luck,” he said as the door shut.

“Yeah, good luck…”

The night air bit at your skin as the tendrils of winter started to wrap around the city. The sounds of police sirens and cars honking as you walked filled the suffocating silence that awaited you at your door step.

The walk gave you plenty time to devise a plan however.

Loads of ideas had come up in your mind.

You could tell your mother that he simply had to work. But then you would have to explain to her where he worked and then she would insist on taking him a lunch or something of the like.

Bad plan.

There was always the classic, ‘Oh, he was feeling a little under the weather today and didn’t want to give it to us. How considerate is he?’ Although, then she would say you could prepare a meal for him and go nurse him back to health! He’d definitely have to marry you then, certainly!

Bad plan.

Then, if worst came to worst, you told her the truth. Which then would result in endless amounts of complaints of travelling all the way to your crummy apartment, that actually wasn’t that bad, just to be disappointed, like usual. Why couldn’t you keep a man? Was it that hard to just keep your mouth shut and please them? Is she ever going to get the grandchildren she so endlessly wants to spoil?

Bad plan.

You knew your mother wasn’t completely heartless. But, she was pretty self-centered and didn’t really care about much more than fancy material items and her own reflection.

That and every nook and cranny of your life.

Ever since you were born your life had been dictated by her and what she wanted for you. You hadn’t even gotten to choose what figure inspired you the most for an essay you wrote. She had to pick that too.

However, since moving out, you had gotten a sweet taste of freedom from her and it was everything you could’ve hoped for and more.

And now that you have it, you were going to do everything you could to keep it. Even if that meant lying straight to her face.

Your apartment building came into view and you were heading towards the door when the sound of someone running up the street caught your attention. You turned to look and noticed a tall man running towards you.

He was scratched up and looked a little worse for wear. He was also sporting a black eye that didn’t look good either. Fear flooded your system as you started reaching for the door, keeping your eyes on him.

The door clicked and relief washed over you like a tidal wave. Until you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

“Think you could help me?”

His voice was thick as honey and it was strained. He was panting heavily, and it sounded a little off.

You turned and almost screamed at the person in front of you. Or, if it was even a person.

It was a boy with normal male features, but with two ears sticking straight up out of his head. He must’ve been one of those furry people who dress up like animals and get busy with each other.

Weird, but you weren’t one to judge people.

Not too often, anyways.

But, at 4:00 in the morning outside your apartment building you were feeling rather judgmental. Especially towards some stranger with dog ears.

“What?”

“Can you be my owner?”

Confusion was the only emotion you felt at the moment.

“Your owner?” You thought about it for a moment and realized it must’ve been some sort of roleplay thing. “Sorry, I’m not really into this sort of thing and we don’t know each other so-”

“THERE HE IS!” A random man shouted from the end of the street and the sound of feet clambering up towards you was loud in your ears.

“Shit! Please, be my owner and I’ll do anything you want. Absolutely anything, please, just pretend to be my owner,” he begged.

You looked into his eyes and saw genuine fear. Your heart lurched as he looked petrified.

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow, and watched as he nodded frantically.

“Anything.” He confirmed for you.

Finally, the men approached you. They were all middle aged, and unhealthily large at that. They were huffing and puffing as they came towards you and whoever the man next to you was.

“You need to come with us, pooch,” one of the said, when he wasn’t wheezing that was.

One of them pulled out an inhaler and then proceeded to head towards the man next to you. You blocked them with a movement of your hand. They looked at you confused until you pushed the man behind you and stepped forward, crossing your arms in front of you and putting on your best face.

Time to put on a show.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and scanning the men in front of you.

“He’s an unregistered hybrid who’s been reported of indecent exposure. We need to take him in,” he said.

“And who might you be?” You question, walking towards them with an intimidating glare. The men backed off slightly and stood up a little straighter, trying to save the pride they were losing.

“We’re dog catchers. This hybrid needs to come with us,” he said, reaching for the man behind you again.

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping anymore forward movement.

“I think you’ll find that he doesn’t need to come with you. He’s mine, and I you can’t just take something that belongs to me.”

The men looked at you with shocked expressions.

“W-We weren’t aware that he had an owner, he has no collar or I.D on him.”

“Too much of a hassle, didn’t care for it, he behaves well enough. But apparently I need to be more stern with him, thank you for chasing him back home.” You said, starting to head towards the door.

“Wait! You need to fill out registration papers for him!”

You turned on your heel.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and his name is Jungkook, figure out the rest for yourselves. If I see you around here again I will call the police for harassment. I think we’re done here, come on Jungkook,” you said, walking towards the door.

He followed you without a word and the men were left there without a word.

You walked up to your apartment in silence. This hybrid gentleman hadn’t said anything since he had confirmed he would do anything for your assistance and you weren’t sure if he was planning on speaking anytime soon.

When you entered the apartment he stayed outside the door, seemingly tentative towards the new space.

“You can come in,” you said, looking at him.

He walked in slowly before shutting the door behind you.

It was silent for a few moments before he seemed to gather himself to speak.

“Thank you for your help,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“I didn’t do it for free you know,” you said, placing your hands on your hips.

“Ah, that’s right, what did you want? I’m assuming the usual thing, am I right?” He said, walking towards you.

“The usual what-”

You were cut off with warm lips against your own. You were shocked before you finally got your bearings and shoved him off of you and slapping him across the face.

He stood still and held his cheek, moderately stunned.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You growled, ready to beat his ass if need be.

He was frozen.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought… The usual thing that people want from us hybrids is sex, it was my fault I’m sorry…”

Guilt raised in your stomach as you watched him recover from the shock. He seemed far to used to getting hit for your liking.

“Come here,” you said, walking over to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of ice out of the freezer and handed it to him.

He slowly placed it on his eye and draped it down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head.

“It was my fault for assuming. I shouldn’t have pounced on you like that, I’m sorry,” he said once again.

“Do you have a name?”

You asked, looking at the rest of his wounds.

“Jungkook?” He questioned.

“Is that really your name?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never had one before. It’s generally just been Hybrid #233418, for as long as I’ve been alive.”

You felt sick. Only being known as a number, no one caring enough to give you a name. An identity to call your own.

It was wrong and dehumanizing.

“Do you like the name Jungkook? You can keep it or change it, I’ll call you whatever you like,” you said, walking over to the fridge for a couple bottles of water.

“Since my owner gave me the name, I’ll keep it. Does it suit me you think?”

You turned around and handed him a water.

“Your owner? You mean me? I’m not your owner,” you said, setting him straight.

“But you are, you agreed to be my owner and told the dog catchers your name,” he remembered, grabbing the bottle of water and chugging it down with gusto.

“How do you know that was my real name?”

He set down the bottle of water, which was now almost empty, before looking at you intently.

“You don’t look like the kind of person that is good at lying. That’s why I trust you,” he said, giving you a cute little smile.

“Okay, what are hybrids? I’ve never seen anyone with ears like that…” You said, staring at them with curiosity.

Jungkook seemed to notice this and they flattened on his head slightly.

“Hybrids? You don’t know anything about the sex industry do you?” You shook your head dumbly. “We were made for sexual purposes. Since we’re not technically human, it’s not considered prostitution. Although, some of us are bought for companions and arm candy for those in higher in society. Sometimes we’re bought as pets. But, generally, we’re a good fuck for people who can’t get any from their significant other,” he explained.

“So that’s why you kissed me…” you said, fitting the pieces together in your mind.

“Yes, I thought you were aware of us, but apparently I can’t assume anything with you,” he chuckled afterwards, rubbing his cheek.

“Why were those dog catchers after you?”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“It’s a long story. And honestly, I’m too tired to remember most of it. Basically, I was sick of fucking people every day, and for a male hybrid that’s saying something. I was tired of being treating like a piece of meat, like I didn’t matter. So I bolted one night when my client was asleep. Been on the run ever since,” he said.

“And what was all of that about indecent exposure,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He blushed slightly and cleared his throat.

“Well, just because I didn’t want to be prostituted doesn’t mean that I object to sex when it’s offered…”

“I don’t see what that has to do with indecent exposure,” you said, giving him a look.

“I was chased out of a very angry man’s house after sleeping with his daughter,” he said, leaning forward on the counter.

“Good for you.”

He laughed and the sound was almost heavenly. The longer you looked at him, you couldn’t imagine that he was ever in any kind of hardship. He had a twinkle in his eyes that just screamed trouble, and you were interested.

“So, if you don’t want me for my skills in the bedroom-”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Please,” you laughed before drinking more of your water.

Jungkook took the bait.

“I was the most paid for hybrid since I turned legal. I don’t disappoint,” he whispered lowly, trying to be seductive.

“Cute pup, but not going to work on me,” you said before pushing him back.

“Fair enough, you’re a tough woman, I’ll give you that. However, that doesn’t answer the question. What do you want me for?”

You thought it over for a few moments then looked him dead in the eye.

“Jungkook, I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

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