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tastesousweet · 2 months ago

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (xii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7 p8 p9 p10 p11

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : new tattoos, bad advice, and october nights

warnings : angsty, fluffy (barely lol), mentions of alcohol and weed, mentions of pain related to tattooing

mickey speaks : MAWMAS BACKKKKK!!!!! hi this is both really long and a lottt of set up for future parts ; also this is barely proof read, so be kind to her please she's my friend....!

THIS IS PART TWELVE, READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLEASE...

"OKAY you take those three, i'll take the rest."

october in la is unfortunately nothing special. there is no fun, drastic change in the trees or chilled weather that calls for layered soft sweaters. though this is all you've known your entire life, growing up only an hour outside of la, so you've gotten pretty good at pretending and finding the autumn spirit within the beaches and palms.

when the triplets exposed that they'd never had "chai anything" a few days ago, while the group lounged out on erin's sunbeds, you and remi were passionately up for the task of forcing them to try one of your homemade iced lattes (as they were essential to the autumn spirit in your eyes).

you both arrived at the warehouse a few hours after noon, heading straight for the small kitchenette with grocery bags in hand. asha giddly followed asking, "whatcha doinnn'?" and lifting herself onto the counter as you both unpacked ingredients. she helped as much as she could before having to return to her receptionist duties.

you spray the sink with water and wipe the remaining mess from the counter, "okay, let me know what they think of it!" you remind remi as she leaves with four drinks in hand.

"i will!" she exclaims.

౨ৎ

after dropping a drink off at the front desk with asha, then caine (another tattoo artist), you find yourself outside of matt's studio. you're happy to hear a lack of buzzing, indicating he doesn't have a client in with him and leaving him all to yourself.

you quietly move his curtain to the side to make sure he’s alone, only for the room to be completely empty aside from his uniquely decorated walls and dim colored furniture. your expression dulls and your hand falls to your side as you walk into the vacant space.

you find comfort in matt’s large, wheeled desk chair as you steal a few sips of what is supposed to be his drink and stare at his computer wallpaper that fades and changes every few seconds. it’s a collection of basic automated wallpapers which you figure makes sense for matt; he would probably care less if his computer at work was void of any personality.

“hey… what’re you doin’ in here?” his scratchy tone finds your ears easily in the otherwise quiet room.

you smile at the sound of his voice and swirl the chair around to face him as he walks in (with a smile mirroring yours across his face). he looks soft and cozy like a teddy bear or one of those soft felt dolls you remember from your childhood. he dawns a faint brown sweater, his hair all messy as if he’d just woken up from a dazed nap. he approaches you with his hands tucked in his pockets, coming so close that he now has to look down at you sprawled out in his rolling chair, “well, i came to have you try my homemade latte but you were no where to be found…” you look down at the remaining half of the drink in humor.

“oh that’s where that mess in the kitchen came from,” he widens his eyes in faux shock, ignoring your grumble of “it was not that messy” and tilts his chin up slightly, “that’s supposed to be for me?”

you glance down at the half empty glass before nodding your head and bringing the straw back to your mouth for a petty sip, echoing, “supposed…”

matt kisses his teeth playfully and leans down, taking hold of the straw once you’ve finished, taking in a sip of the drink slowly. he stares into your eyes an extra second before pulling back and smirking out of enjoyment, “not bad,” he smoothly takes the glass from your hand, “thanks.”

౨ৎ

"when you gonna let me tat' you again?"

matt would never admit this without shame, but his spirits are actually lifted now that you’re taking up his space and time- he’s starting to think his intuition must’ve tied to yours weeks ago when he had kept his schedule clear of any appointments this afternoon. as if he'd already known you’d need room to talk his head off about your long week of work or what you’re planning to do for halloween later in the month.

matt's still getting used to letting himself enjoy you- or at least all that you’ll allow him to have. he can tell you've been attempting to refrain parts of yourself now that you've agreed to take a step back from the intimacy the two of you explored over the summer, opting for the label of ‘friends’ to poorly glue onto your relationship (the gooey, sticky, and messiest kind of glue; runny and uncoordinated like one of the macaroni picture frames he’d made at camp as a kid). but he always seems to find new ways to guide that closeness out of you.

a few nights after your chaotic birthday party you slipped out of the loud dive bar and followed him into the parking lot (not without exchanging a knowing look from andrea; to ground you and ensure you'd be strong). he moved quickly but not at a pace for running, just fast enough that your heeled feet couldn't keep up well. by the time you'd slowly approached him, he was already ducked into his SUV in search of nick's jacket.

your thick heel's decent from constantly hitting the pavement to stopping grabbed his attention. he sent a look over his shoulder and looked away, only to return his gaze again once he recognized your precious face.

he'd move from the car with a smile he rarely gives out, "the fuck you doin' out here sunshine?"

you'd laugh through your nose and glance down with your arms crossed over your chest. he thought you looked extra pretty that night; like you were written down in his favorite font and brought to life as his own dream girl. you wore a sweet-wine colored sweater with your full shoulders peeking out from the size, sheer black tights underneath your small patterned shorts, and an assortment of jewelry (most attractive piece being his gifted charm bracelet). but his eyes did a small pinch and his bottom lip found home in his mouth when he'd begun to notice the neutral expression over your face. and that's when his dream would come to an end.

"hi..yeah, i needed to talk to you but it was really loud everywhere else."

he could tell something was up, "sure, hold on." his head slowly nodded while turning around to grab the jacket from the car and slam the door shut once more. he locked the doors with a small beep as he came closer to your figure, "what is it, baby?"

you'd blink and rub your lips together once before returning them to a slight pout; you were clearly not as sunny as you had been just a few minutes before, dancing and grinding with remi in the bar. like day and night.

your eyes didn't follow him, it was as if you hadn't even noticed his proximity until he had his hands cradling your head and moving your face to look at his. "y/n ... what is it babyy?" his words drew out into the space between you, a comedic tone lacing them.

your eyes kept looking all over his face, "matt, i just think ... i think we should actually be friends, like you said remember? on the phone."

his dream girl. his dream girl who just sent him back to square fucking one when he stupidly assumed she'd come outside to crush on him and give him a secret kiss or two. his dream girl just threw his own words back at him which makes it worse, somehow.

matt's brain and words counteract so often that he shouldn't be surprised anymore, "hey ... are we not being friends right now?" you'd roll your eyes. "what??"

"matt."

he played with a strand of your hair that fell perfectly out of place and into your face, "is it because we kiss? you know i kiss all friends, yours and mine," he laughed before he could fully finish the sentence and you were quick to push him away and start walking the other direction. "i'm kiddingggg!" he'd walk behind you repeatedly asking you to stop, before he wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you close to him. "stop it sun'. i said m'kidding! can i just get one hug please? i'll keep it innocent as fuck."

you paused before softly uttering, "of course you can, matt." you turned yourself around in his hold to give in to his embrace, head curled into his chest as his arms slung around your waist. you couldn't quite tell whether he was asking you or informing you when he reluctantly whispered into your ear, "promise we're all good." so you remained silent.

he respects that you felt the need to reverse everything between you two but can't help but wish every now and then you'd call and ask him to come and fuck you in the middle of the night. he's pissed that now he's got this nagging in his chest and shift in his brain when you’re around that you don't seem to deal with at all.

you're just his friend. his friend who he's currently listening to while softly sketching jagged faces on a gum wrapper pressed against your thigh.

you've stopped overanalyzing these moments with matt, now that you've agreed you're just friends it's helped you embrace them for what they are at the time without worrying the implications of the future. you're back to having a crush on matt but you think this must be better than constantly secretly competing with erin for him; constantly hurting your own feelings.

your body is relaxed as you drape yourself over his cold, leather tattoo bed, resting your head on your bent forearm as you talk, resisting the touch-deprived-shudders that come over you with every stroke of the pencil or movement of his hand innocently over your upper thigh.

you're caught off guard by his question. "ummmm, 'never again' would be my first choice."

matt breathes a laugh, "come on, you won't let me put somethin' else on you?"

"matt, i am only just now mentally well after the first." you glance down at your thigh, naturally curious as to what he's drawing.

"lying and being dramatic, this is ridiculous." he tsks and smiles to himself.

"dude, m'not! recovery is very hell-like."

there's a small silence as he crafts his idea, "okay ... but if i let you tat me, then can i tat you again?"

your excitement is so abundant as you spring up, "shut up, you wont!" he shrugs his shoulders, "you'd let me?! like, actually?!" he nods and you try not to get too giddy over the fact that matt offered something you'd off-handedly mentioned during one of your many pillow-talk sessions (to which he'd told you he'd never let anyone besides chris or himself tattoo him); meaning he too remembers times of borderline romance between you two, and you are not alone in those memories you keep in your mind.

matt laughs at you and swipes the gum wrapper from your skin, crumbling it and tossing it into a small bin. "yeah, i'll let you, s’gotta be small as fuck though."

౨ৎ

your hands shake without command as you touch at the small section of unmarked skin on matt's forearm. he's guided you up until now, preparing you with the very basic and rushed skills that you'll need to ink the tiny heart he'd requested.

"breathe," he reminds you, making you both laugh when you let out a deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding in.

"are you sure you want me to do this? it's a big responsibility ... i don't think i can handle it." you look at him and he's already looking at you with a smirk.

"y/n, just put the fucking gun to my skin, it'll be fine." he encourages as his opposite hand drags across his jaw to scratch at his scruffy facial hair.

you bite at your lip and shake your head before steadying yourself. you get close to direct contact but feel the pressure of matt watching, causing you to pull away, "we should just get chris to come do it."

matt groans and lets his head fall back dramatically. "hell no. i don't want it if you don't do it, c'mon sunny." he pulls himself back up to face you, "you know i trust you, right?" his eyes hold onto yours.

a loaded fucking question. you allow a breathy, "yes," to pull from your mouth.

his voice is quiet and he won't let his eyes leave yours, "'kay ... good," he's a bit louder again, "let's see it." he lies back down on the leather bed.

when you finally gain the courage, you gently hold and press into his skin. he almost immediately yells in pain, scaring you and making your entire body jump back. your frantic eyes look at him, "fuck! oh my god, i'm so sorry, honey. are you okay?" he's holding back a laugh with his eyes crinkled and cheeks full of air, "matt, seriously?! i'm gonna fucking kill you!" you scold him as he childishly laughs at your expense, taking hold of your shaking hand and rubbing it a few times to gain your trust again.

౨ৎ

it's frustrating that you've only become more hot to matt now that your relationship has fallen platonic, probably due to the appeal of wanting someone he just can't seem to have.

so, he's embarrassingly attracted to your request for the words "lucky you" written in silky cursive under the space where your bra clips softly against your back. he's reluctantly found a spark of jealousy in the idea of other guys that will indeed be lucky enough to see the hidden ink as he begins to wipe the area with an alcohol pad.

it took a lot of convincing to get you to this point, you were adamant that it would hurt far too much and you couldn't take it. but matt's good enough with his words (or maybe you just like to believe whatever he's got to say) so you gave in eventually.

he interrupts you to check in once he's got the outline printed in the area, "am i good to start?"

you're honest, "no, but yeah."

"hey, i got you, bab- ..." he lets his voice cut off and clears his throat. "i got you, y/n. you'll be fine."

"thank you." you let out and pinch your eyes closed once the hypnotic buzz of the tattoo gun begins.

just like the first time, you find comfort in talking as matt works on you, your voice straining the few times he marks over rough bone or muscle.

matt tries to keep your spirits up, by staying engaged in your conversation and adding a few jokes to hear your (pained) laugh; like when he responded to you reminiscing over your first time meeting under similar circumstances with, "i'm a little nostalgic too, it's been a minute since i've had you topless for me."

your voice is muffled from your face being squished against the bed, "matt, i'll kick you. i'm in too much pain for you to poke fun at me right now, funny guy."

your brain holds onto this for longer than he'd think. how dare he bring up your sexual past while his large hands hold you down to this bed and your bare back is left on display?! as if you weren't suffering enough!

౨ৎ

"i am ob-fucking-sessed!" you look behind you into the mirror displaying your back's delicate artwork.

"you like it?"

"i knew i would. you did amazing. i can't wait for it to heal." you're in stood in awe of your reflection, but can detect matt's unwavering eyes on you which makes your body heat.

౨ৎ

the dingiest smell of old cigarettes and hot liquor painted fumes in the air surrounding matt, with his frame slouched against the bar.

"matt the fucking man! what's good, you're mighty quiet tonight, huh?!" eli claps a hand against matt's shoulder, forcing a bit of matt's full cocktail glass to spill over and coat his hand and the grimy floor.

matt ignores the wetness and flashes him a smile, "'m fine, you know i'm not one to go out of my way to speak to just anyone."

"yeah, but you're like," eli squints his eyes and holds a finger at him, "like, all, you know- almost like you're sad. the fuck do you have to be sad about?!" he holds his hands up as if to say, we have this entire disgusting bar to hang out in, what could you possibly be upset about?!

"m' not fucking sad," matt deadpans and takes a long sip from his small glass, setting it on the bar.

"yeah..." eli laughs, "come on bridget's got us a table over here." he tilts his head away from the bar and towards a large crowd.

౨ৎ

the yellow hued bathroom is brightly lit as you keep hold of your tits in one arm and raise the small tube of tattoo ointment up to your face while andrea delicately applies it to your two week old tattoo for you. figaro lazily curls up in the sink beneath you, purring in long, sleepy drawls.

"okay, but what a wild story to tell- my ex situationship gave me both of my hottest-placed tattoos. how do you manage to hang out with him, let alone take your top off and not even make out with him afterwards?"

you practically slam them bottle down on the counter due to your whole enthusiasm, scaring figaro as he leaps and hits his head on the sink's silver spout before rushing out of the room, "aw, i'm sorry kitty!" you attempt to console with your words, "but trust me when i tell you this- it took so much out of me, drea, when i tell you he's, like, the cutest when he's all focused on his work and giving me all of his attention." you gawk at the memory.

"i know, babe. but it's best that it's done with. that back and forth and constant comparison to erin was getting excessive and he only plays into it. it's fucked up!" andrea was the one to come to you the morning after your birthday party and advise you to essentially give him an ultimatum or end "whatever you were" for the better. it hurt to hear and at first you asked her to leave the situation alone as this was exactly why you never wanted to tell her.

it only took matt and erin flirting in front of you again a few nights later for you consider her opinion and decide to put a stop to the fling you and matt had.

"you're right, he fumbled badly. we both know this ..." you pause with a small pout forming, "but at the same time, what if i'm the one fumbling?!" you exclaim and andrea immediately laughs.

she places her head on your shoulder and squeezes your arms softly, "never that! honey, that man will easily regret not having you for the rest of his life."

౨ৎ

matt has unnamed people crowding him on both sides, some practically on top of him, while packed into this small curved booth. he'd normally be beyond irritated by this but without the proximity he'd probably be more annoyed having to call out "what?" every time eli attempts to say anything over the blaring music.

"alright, tell me what you been up to matt! haven’t seen you in a bit'," eli pries while pouring shots of the room-temperature tequila for the two of them.

matt shrugs. lately his brain has remained with you and how to either return things to how they used to be or completely move on from you. "same shit. working, sleeping." matt rubs a hand over his face, "got this girl i was fucking around with for a bit but i'm a little too into her."

"ohhh shit! my boy's usin' past tense and sayin' he's "too into her"?" he sends the shot over to matt with a smooth slide across the dark wood. eli whistles and tuts, "sounds like you gotta get over this broad."

matt looks to the ceiling with his eyes closed and lips rolled into his mouth, before exhaling with a dramatic flutter of his lips and shake of his head. "sounds like it," he agrees and readjusts his hat towards the back before lifting the small shot glass into the air, connecting it with eli's.

the two immediately throw the shots down their throats with large grins. and before matt can place his glass back on the table there's a slice of sour lime placed into his mouth by a girl next to him as a second scoots closer and kisses his opposite cheek with her sticky lip gloss.

matt pulls the lime from his mouth after sucking hard, "yeah, think i'll take a few more of those," he laughs and spins his finger in the air indicating another round be poured.

౨ৎ

you gently tuck a soft blanket around andrea's sleeping figure on the large couch before you head to your room for the night.

your room is a haven. decorated with stylish hints of posh pink and zangy orange hues that remind you of your childhood home's dining room. when you're lonely you find comfort in the small trinkets you've collected over the years, sat on a dresser next to a ceramic bowl with an assortment of rings, bracelets, and loose earrings. there are pieces of artwork on your walls, a few gifted from your old college roommate (who had more painted canvases than she knew what to do with) and a few you've picked up from vintage shops. you keep a few framed pictures of your family and girlfriends on your bedside table (keeping them close and connected to you in your most vulnerable state).

you let out a surprisingly loud (and long) yawn as you move to light a few small candles around your room. eventually opening the small drawer to your bedside table and grabbing one of the few joints (lucas had rolled using juicy watermelon wrapping papers per your request) from a small plastic bag. you grin to yourself as you place it in your mouth and bring a soft green lighter to ignite the end and bring life to the small stick.

once you fill your lungs you gracefully fall onto your plush bed, spreading your arms out wide before taking hold of the joint to blow a stream of swirly smoke up into the air above you. you give a dazed, dopey smile to your ceiling before tastefully drawing in another hit of the funky plant.

౨ৎ

post smoking a full joint and writing a tangent-heavy journal entry, you're left wondering about the moody twenty-something tattoo artist who seems to linger in every crevice of your home. it definitely doesn't help that weed tends to make you pathetically horny, practically sealing your fate.

you lay yourself on your stomach and play with a loose string coming from a throw blanket as your phone dials and buzzes against your cheek.

"y/n?" his voice pitches up an octave which makes you giggle.

"matt?" you mock him, "hi, what are you doing?"

"i'm, uh," you start to notice the loud and bouncy background.

you pinch your eyebrows together, "oh fuck, i didn't realize you were out. i'm sorry. i just was missing you, i guess."

you can hear him groan dramatically, "missing me is crazy...?! do you actually? you're not jus' sayin' that, right?"

"you know i'm not a liar, matthew."

his words are slightly slurred and dripping in intoxication, "i don't know, do i? you're a sneaky girl sometimes."

"not as sneaky as you," you purse your lips.

"mmmm yeah, prolly. where are you?" he distractedly changes the subject.

you cradle your chin in your palm with a sigh, "home. i should be asleep i have work in the morning. but i'm high and i just ..." you stare off into space, "oou, i ... probably shouldn't have called you."

"what?"

your body freezes, "shit, oh god. just like pretend i never did this okay? please."

"huh? sunny what the fuck are you talkin' about?!" he's laughing but your influenced brain convinces yourself he must be laughing at you. matt must've known you were a few sentences away from going back on your word and stupidly inviting him back into your bedroom. he probably thought you were pulling a sick joke. you hang up before grabbing one of your pillows and erupting into uncontrollable sobs. you only sob more when you feel the embarrassment of crying for essentially no real reason.

౨ৎ

matt moves the phone away from his ear with confusion drawn across his face at the abrupt ending of that phone call, slowly blinking at the bright screen before he's once again receiving soft kisses against his throat and across his jaw.

she leans in so that he hears her as she jokingly mocks his loved up phone call, "who's 'sunny'?"

matt's mouth splits in a wide drunken smile as he laughs it off, his hair slightly damp at this point from sweat and body heat, "s'no one, don't worry about it." he takes hold of the girl's face and brings his mouth to hers.

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