Could I submit a request where the reader and tangerine are very comfortable friends? They are casually seeing other people on the side but they can’t deny the other is very attractive if the opportunity ever comes up… They are waiting for the other to give the signal but cover it up with flirty negging. Reader and Tan are at her flat pregaming for a night out when she needs help with her zipper and he likes what he sees under it. She notices, makes a flirty move, he takes over and they never make it to the bar. I love when you give tan a lot of narrative and banter.
Is this too detailed??? Please feel free to just free style and get creative with it as well. Love you, bye ❤️
So sorry about the wait, love. I hope you like it! x
Tangerine x f!reader
Theme: friends to lovers
Warnings: swearing, making out, implied intimacy
Word count: 1.4K
The door of your apartment falls shut with a click. The sound of footsteps grows louder as you hear someone approach. Tangerine, probably. You gave the idiot a key a few years back. Not your best decision, as he barges in whenever he pleases. It doesn't surprise you anymore. You're not bothered either, not really. He's one of your best friends anyway. Has been ever since you met about ten years ago. The key was meant for emergencies, but you should've known he'd abuse the opportunity to visit you whenever he wants to the fullest. You don't even look up as he plops on your couch, pulling out his phone to scroll on it. "Y'were at Enzo's yesterday?" he mutters without looking at you, already knowing damn well you did by the looks of your hair - still a mess from last night. You huff out a small laugh. "That obvious?" You finally look up. "Y'got a proper bird's nest on your head, woman. 'Course it's bloody obvious," he says as he vaguely gestures at your hair. He plucks a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and puts one between his lips, tossing the pack onto your coffee table. "You look fucked," he adds, mumbling around it as he digs in his pocket again for a lighter. "I was," you simply state, feeling him glare at you while lighting his cigarette. A soft orange glow flickers at the tip as he inhales deeply, blowing the first puff out of his nose with a content sigh. "I see your nicotine addiction still fucks you every day, though, don't it?" you retort playfully. He takes another drag and blows the smoke in your face at that comment. "I prefer a real shag too, darlin', but I ain't Enzo, who gets to fuck a pretty girl like… what, once every week? You been seein' that bloke so much it's like you're addicted to 'im or somethin'," he mutters, unable to hide the bitter tone in his voice. You raise your brows, that tone not going unnoticed. "Jealous?" you ask, putting your phone down. He doesn't look at you, just leans his elbows on his spread thighs and stares at your window. His jaw ticks. The same way it always does whenever Enzo comes up. You never gave him a reason to make a move on you. Or maybe you did and he didn't want to misinterpret it as something you didn't mean. "No," he then says, lying through his teeth. "But I guess you're not appalling," he smirks, his flirty nature not unfamiliar to you. "You'd be lucky to have me in your bed, you twat," you laugh, lightly kicking his side with your foot. "Oi," he dramatically rubs the spot where your foot made contact.
"You wanna go out tonight? I've got beers in the fridge for pre-gaming." He meets your gaze. "You haven't seen a ray of fuckin' sunshine in days, have ya? Been cooped up in your flat. Why'd you think I came here? I'm dragging you out tonight." His mustache twitches like you staying inside personally offended him. He makes his way to the kitchen after stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. You don't smoke, but you keep it on your coffee table for when Tangerine visits. He comes back with opened beer bottles and hands you one. Your fingers brush briefly as you take it. "Fuck do I even wear tonight?" you sit back on the couch, propping your feet up into his lap. His hand rests on your ankle as he takes a swig of beer. "Dunno. Dress. Pretty skirt…," Tangerine thinks out loud. "Mmh," you hum before swallowing a sip. "I do have a new black one, actually. A dress." Tangerine nods once. "Go on then, get changed." He then taps your leg twice, signaling to get up. You oblige, downing your beer in a few quick chugs before setting the empty bottle on the coffee table.
His ears strain as he listens to you opening and closing the drawers. The soft sound of clothes rustling comes from behind your bedroom door. A minute or two later, you step out, your hand clutched behind your back. Now in a pretty black dress and some heels you wore last time you went out with him as well. His gaze snaps to your figure as you step out, roaming over the new fabric clinging to your skin. He then notices your arm held behind your back. "Can you zip it up?" you walk over to him. Tangerine stands, setting his bottle down and gestures with his hand for you to turn around. His gaze roams your back shamelessly. Your hand letting go of the fabric now. He brings both sides of the dress together with one hand, his knuckles lightly grazing your back. He spots the lace on your bra strap, his mouth going dry. His adam's apple bobs when he swallows, shaking off the urge to touch it. "Does it go up?" you ask a little unsure now with how long he's taking. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice suddenly soft, more sultry. He zips it easily. "Preparing to go home with some daft bloke later, then?" he steps back, waiting for you to face him. His tone is almost accusatory, like he wants you to prove him wrong. You turn, a brow shoots up. "What makes you think that?" He scoffs lightly. "Well, maybe the fact you're wearin' pretty lace under a pretty fuckin' dress and I-" "Pretty lace?" you interrupt. He freezes, caught. He doesn't say anything for a beat, debating whether or not to be honest with you. "Saw the strap, didn't I?" he mutters, gesturing vaguely. "Don't make it weird." A laugh slips out before you can stop it. "You noticed." "Fuck's sake, woman." He rubs his face with one hand. "Hard not to." You study him, noticing the crease between his brows. How he's suddenly very interested in your wall art. Ten years of knowing him and yet, right now feels like the first time you're really seeing him. "Might," you say eventually, shrugging one shoulder. "Might go home with someone." His nostrils flare slightly when he lets out a sharp breath. "Right… wonderful," he mutters before taking a swig from his drink. "Why do you even care?" you smirk, cocking your head to the side playfully. "Jealous?" He tilts his head the same side you do. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." The way his eyes linger on your lips betray him though. He's not subtle, never has been.
"Oh? So you wouldn't mind being my wingman tonight then? Help me get laid?" You step forward with a challenging tone in your voice. You're not stupid. You've seen that look before. "I can help you with that jus' fine, darlin'," he states, his eyes never leaving yours. "Being my wingman?" you stop right in front of him, your head craned to look at him. He studies your face for a beat. "No." He looks at you, watching the confusion creep up on your face. He takes your chin between his thumb and his pointer finger. "Helping you get laid." His voice dips an octave, almost as if sharing a secret meant just for your ears. Your expression falters. He doesn't miss the way your lips slightly part in surprise, your eyes darting over his features to spot any hint of a joke. None. For one second, you think he might take it back. Laugh it off. Pretend he didn't mean it. But he doesn't. He takes a slow breath. Without thinking about it, your hand finds the back of his neck to pull him down, your lips crashing onto his. He lets out an involuntary sound, a content one. His hands cup your face, angling your face just so he can kiss you deeper. "Took ya long enough," he mutters between frantic presses of his lips against yours. "Shut up," you murmur back, both your hands sliding down the fabric of his powder blue dress shirt, already popping a button. He hums into the kiss and walks you backward, the back of your knees hitting the bed. He doesn't hesitate and crawls over you without breaking the kiss even for a second. The evening out forgotten. Neither of you willing to waste another second, determined to make up for lost time.
