#but on the other hand—I’m getting my tattoo next Saturday!

[sailforvalinor]

.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｄｅｌｉｃａｔｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: body piercer!seungmin x chubby!fem!shopassistant!reader (w/ appearances by tattoo artist!stray kids)

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: For the longest time you've dreamed of getting your belly button pierced but you always stop yourself, too shy about your weight to get it done. While working your usual shift at the tattoo shop the resident piercer offers to do it for you, with a bit of meddling from your best friend Changbin, though it turns out that he wants to give you a little or a lot more than just a piercing.

♡ Word Count: 4.7k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has some insecurities about her weight, piercings (of course), you're getting your belly button pierced babe so yas there's a needle, strong language, kissing, body worship, unprotected sex, Seungmin has a lil dom moment, grinding, fingering, mirror sex, ass slapping, oral sex (f receiving), pet names (good girl), and otherwise fluffiness.

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this as a comfort fic for anyone out there who may be struggling with a bad body image day or who might feel like sometimes that they aren't thin enough to wear/do what they want or get the person that they want. My point being that you're a badass bitch who can get whoever and do whatever. If anyone tells you differently they can eat dirt and tell them I said so, babes - xoxo

Saturday nights at the shop are always your favorite. It’s a little too loud, a little too hectic, but that’s the way you like it. On nights like these you never know who’s gonna step in from the glow of the neon signs and throw you for a loop.

Like the couple making out on one of the couches while they wait their turn to get matching inner lip tattoos. A decision they totally won’t regret when their two week long romance crashes and burns.

Or people like the guy on the phone insisting he come in for a tattoo you know for a fact all of your boys would die before they took on. 

“Look, man, I’m not judging you,” you say, judging him to the fullest extent, “It’s just that most of my guys aren’t gonna tattoo your di—”

“Delivery!” a friendly voice rings out in the lobby.

The front door dings, announcing the arrival of your usual delivery girl. She’s short and bubbly with a bag hooked in each of her wrists, filled to the brim with food. In a hurry as always, she sets them down on the desk in front of you and flashes a sweet smile before scurrying off to her next delivery. You respond with one of your own, hopping off the phone just in time to shout, “Have a good night!”

Without missing a beat, you scoop the bags up and head down the hallway off to your left. Bobbing your head along to the rock music blasting from the speakers overhead, you make your way to the main floor where tattoo guns are buzzing away. 

“Food’s here!” you announce but it’s too late. You’ve already been spotted and Jeongin’s swiping the bag from your right hand before you can dodge him. 

“Ooh, what’s for dinner?” he asks, already hard at work cruising through tonight’s options. 

“What?” Felix yells from the far side of the room. He’s hunched over his table, focused on finishing a tattoo of a butterfly on the ankle of a girl who’s much more interested in him than a tattoo. 

“She said food’s here!” Jeongin mumbles through a mouthful of food. He makes it a few steps back towards his station, hugging the bag like a newborn baby he’ll protect with his life, before Hyunjin intercepts him.

“Give it here!” Hyunjin demands, almost wrestling a stubborn Jeongin for the bag. 

You feel a tugging at the other bag and by the time you turn to see who it is, Minho’s already passing by with Chan, the bag secured in his hand.

Minho digs through it, frowning, “Fuck, they forgot my sauce again.”

“Christopher, can you control your children before they scare off our customers?” you shout after Chan as he grabs his food and settles down at his station. 

Chan leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up. Checking his watch, he grins, “Can’t sorry. I’m on break.”

You roll your eyes, letting out a huff of frustration. Sometimes the real headache isn’t the weird customers, it’s the guys you work for, but you love them so if there ever were a headache you could tolerate this would be it. 

Turning to head back up front, you stop dead in your tracks when you realize that one of the first people to swarm you for dinner hardly looked your way. Backtracking you spot the stray, Seo Changbin, locked in on an intricate chest tattoo and Han laying across his table, whining like this tattoo wasn’t his idea to begin with. 

You skip over to Changbin’s station, quietly admiring the piece over his shoulder. It’s a compass. Highly detailed. Clean lines. The same flawless work you always expect of him. 

“Aah, you’re trying to kill me” Han says, turning to you for sympathy, “He’s trying to kill me.”

Changbin groans, paying him no mind. “Hey, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this if I knew you’d be such a baby about it. 

Han pouts, poking his lip out, “I am not a baby.”

You giggle, shifting to the other side of the table to get a better look. 

“You are such a baby” you tease, poking his lip back in, “It looks really good. Totally worth the pa—oh my god. When did you get that?”

Your gaze drifts from the tattoo and down Han’s torso where shiny, stainless steel jewelry adorns his belly button. 

“A week ago, maybe two?” Han smiles, happy that you noticed. “You like it?”

“Ugh, I love it” you gush, eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I wish I could get one but I can’t.”

Han seems more excited than you at the mention of it. “Why not? You should get one!”

You freeze, unsure how you want to answer this question. You’re mortified of the possible awkwardness of the truth but you’ve been best friends with these guys far too long to lie to them. 

“Well, I haven’t lost enough weight yet to get one but when I do—”

Changbin stops tattooing, shutting his gun off to stare into your soul. “What did I tell you about that? You’re beautiful how you are. Isn’t she beautiful the way she is?”

He poses the question to someone over your shoulder and, as the figure rounds the corner, your heart almost stops beating.

“Hmm? Yeah” Seungmin, the sole piercer in the shop, nods sipping a drink through one of those cute twisty straws. You find pretty much everything the man does attractive but there’s something especially adorable about this. 

He disappears into his room with a simple wave and a nod that makes you weak in the knees. Every guy here is like a brother to you but Seungmin? He’s different. You’ve been head over heels for him, utterly at his mercy, since he started working here.

As far as you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend but you haven’t figured out how to decipher his trademark grumpiness enough to tell if he has a thing for you too. Far too terrified to make the first move, you’ve settled for drooling over your dark haired puppy dog eyed lover from afar. 

Han nudges you with his elbow, struggling to hold back his laughter, “Ooh, you like him.”

You’re about to knee him in the side but he’s saved by Changbin’s execution of a plot he concocted mere seconds ago. You hadn’t noticed that mischievous look on his face but you have now and you don’t like it one bit. 

“Seungmin!” he calls out, flicking his gun on and getting back to work. 

Seungmin appears in the doorway, more preoccupied with his phone than anything Changbin has to say. 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Got time to do a belly button piercing real quick?”

“Depends” Seungmin shrugs, finally looking up from his phone, “Who’s asking?”

“Changbin, no” you mouth, only to be ignored. 

Changbin points to you, bubbling with joy at his evil plan. Seungmin folds his tattooed arms across his chest, looking you up and down.

Suddenly you’re second guessing what you wore today. Some combat boots and a short black dress with lace accents. It’s tight enough to highlight your shape but loose enough to flow a bit when you walk. Is it enough? Is it too much? Why are you even thinking about this?

“You?” Seungmin asks, raising a curious eyebrow. 

Fidgeting with the silver heart locket on your necklace, you muster up the courage to actually face him. 

“I was just, uh, I was thinking about it but I’m working so…”

Changbin chimes in, not letting you weasel your way out so easily, “Jeongin can watch the front desk”

“I don’t even have any jewelry picked out.”

“He has emergency jewelry back there. Don’t you, Seungmin?

Seungmin glances back into his room to check, “I’ve got something for her and my next appointment canceled so I have time if she really wants it.”

With no way out, you take a step towards his room, hesitating for a moment. Seungmin gives you a half smile, more than he offers most people. “Come on. I don’t bite.” Not that you’d be mad if he did. 

Giving in, you push forward, glancing over your shoulder to give Changbin a look that says he’ll pay for this later. Seungmin steps aside, patiently waiting for you to enter his room before shutting the door behind you. You jump a little when the door clicks shut and you hear him laughing at you.

“Nervous?”

“Me? Nervous? No way.” 

You’re lying and he can tell. When you spend your time doing dozens of piercings a day you get good at reading people. Plus the way you’re trembling doesn't exactly make it hard to tell what you’re feeling. 

“Well you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you, okay?” he reassures you, placing a comforting hand on your forearm. His thumb strokes your inner wrist and suddenly your body's electric.

“Uh, yeah, for sure” you nod, your voice light and airy. 

Seungmin gently squeezes your arm, heading over to his closet to search for something. After a few seconds he pulls out a small fuzzy blanket with a cute Halloween pattern on it. 

“I need you to pull your dress up for the, well, you know” he says, opening the blanket up for you, “But if you’re not comfortable you can cover up with this.” 

“Oh, thanks. That’s really sweet of you.” You try not to seem too impressed, taking the blanket as he turns his back to you, busying himself by doing some prep. 

Hiking your dress up over your stomach, you tuck the blanket around your waist to cover your legs. Staring down at the way your soft belly pokes out, your brain goes into crisis mode. You’d imagined yourself half dressed in a room with Seungmin but this was far easier in your fantasies than in real life. You feel so vulnerable, one of your biggest insecurities laid bare, but there’s no turning back now. You’re in this. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what all that was about?” Seungmin asks, careful not to catch even the slightest peek at you before you’re ready. 

“All of what?” you stutter, your mind temporarily going blank. “Oh, that with Changbin? That was just, I don’t know, I’ve been wanting this for a while but I was putting it off…for reasons.”

“Because you don’t think you’re ‘Beautiful the way you are’?”

You cringe at his question, wishing Changbin hadn’t used such a cliche phrase. You squint your eyes, staring into the distance, imagining all the ways you’ll torture him for getting you into this. 

“It’s not that” you deny, gearing up for another lie but you back down yet again, “It’s kinda that. I don’t know. I’m not really a girl with a flat stomach.”

Seungmin snaps on a pair of black gloves, “Can I turn around now?”

“Mmhmm” you nod, your dress gathered in a tight fist of fabric above your stomach.

He spins around, pulls up a chair, and flops down in front of you in one fluid motion. He twirls a black marker in one hand, popping the top off with his teeth.

“Who told you that you had to be a girl with a flat stomach?” he asks, inspecting your belly button for the perfect spot. “I like your stomach. I think it’s cute.”

The compliment has the heat formerly warming your cheeks spreading through your entire body. You let out an involuntary giggle and he cracks a smile, a full one this time. The first of its kind in shop history. 

“You don’t have to say that to be nice.”

Seungmin marks a point, grabbing a hand mirror to show it to you, “You like it? Yeah? Good. Up on the table.”

You hop up on the table and assume the position. Straight out on your back, hands at your sides. You see it every day. No instruction needed. 

“I wasn’t being nice by the way” he says, that handsome face sliding up next to you. “It is cute. You’re…you’re really cute.”

Feeling himself begin to blush, he slips out of view to sterilize the area and get the needle ready.

“I’m sorry if that was weird. Was that weird?” he rambles, mostly to himself. 

Today’s full of firsts. You’ve never seen him nervous before, you never expected to, but the man’s ears are turning red and he can barely string a sentence together. 

“It’s not weird, Seungmin. You’re really cute too” you say, despite your own nervousness. You’ve been waiting so long to say that. It’s a relief to finally get it out. 

“Now you’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. I do think you’re cute. I always have” you confess, “I just never said anything cause I didn’t think you’d like me."

Pinching your skin with a set of forceps, he aligns the needle with the tiny mark above your belly button, “Deep breath in.”

You take a deep breath in and the needle pops through like butter. You feel a quick sting followed by a rush of adrenaline. He slips the jewelry through so seamlessly you hardly feel it and you’re all done. 

“Are you crazy? I’ve liked you forever. Was it not obvious?” he asks, popping off his gloves and taking your hand to sit you up. 

“What? No. It wasn’t obvious. Was it supposed to be?”

Seungmin pauses, truly reflecting upon his attempts at flirting. “I tell you ‘Good morning’ every morning. I tell everyone else to kiss my ass.” 

“So romantic” you joke before noticing how sincere he is about it. 

You instantly wonder if he’s stared at you before the way he does now. The truth is that he has, maybe not in the most obvious moments but every chance he gets. When you’re running late in the morning, hurrying in with iced coffee to win everyone’s sympathy. When you’re all hanging out at Minho’s place and you’re rambling with Han about the dramas you’ve been watching. Or when you’re all out having drinks and you’re simply existing. He has those same stars in his eyes that he does now. Every. Single. Time. 

Realizing how hard he must be staring, he backs his chair up, giving you enough room to move around. Riding high on the thrill of actually going through with your piercing—your thoughts jumbled up by the knowledge that these feelings are mutual—you hop up to check yourself out in the mirror with not a thought given to the fact that the blanket has slipped off.

So here you are, twirling around in front of the mirror with your dress proudly held up. Plush thighs kissing each other. Lacey black panties on full display. A dazzling piece of jewelry dangles from your belly button and your stomach does the happiest jiggle as you delight in your reflection. 

“You like it?” Seungmin asks, coming closer to get a better look.  

“I love it. It’s so pretty” you beam, your gaze drawn to something shifting in the reflection.

Seungmin isn't watching you the same way he was anymore. There are notes of something reminiscent of the former innocence and awe but it’s something different entirely. It’s intense enough that you can feel the air shift in the room. The brown of his eyes seemingly grows deeper the longer he takes in your figure. 

“You can’t look at me like that” you say, your breathing growing shallow as you begin to lose yourself in what you see in the mirror. Watching him watching you. 

“You don’t want me to?” he asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

You don’t feel rushed or pressured. His patience is genuine but his eyes never leave you. They never leave you to question if that look of longing is dedicated to you or not.

You take a deep breath, making one last twirl to face the man that has your pulse racing a mile a minute. It isn’t just the way he watches you that has you on the verge of soaking through your new panties. It’s the way he sits in his chair, slightly tilted back, arms resting on his legs. It’s like he’s waiting for you, that little grin on his lips daring you to come take a seat. 

“I want you to” you say softly enough that you’re unsure if he heard you. 

Seungmin glides closer to you in his chair, stopping when his knees barely graze your legs. He leans forward, fingertips tracing the outline of your thighs, “You want me to what?”

As he asks the question, his breath tickles the surface of your skin and you shiver at the sensation.

“I want you to…aah” you gasp as his hands grip the tender flesh of your ass, pulling you in close enough for his lips to meet your stomach. He kisses it carefully and lovingly, taking his time to let his mouth and hands explore all of the softest, fluffiest parts of you. 

“You want me to…what?” he asks, tugging you down into his lap, his lips still wet from kissing your body. It makes it all the more tempting to kiss him. Surrendering to your impulses, you pull him into a kiss so ravenous and full of need that it leaves his head spinning in the best way. 

You were meant to come in here for a piercing. That was it. Now you’re straddling his lap with your fingers in his hair while his tongue’s halfway down your throat.

Slipping his hands back under your dress, he rests them on your hips, pressing you down into his lap to show you just how hard you've gotten him. Your panties are more soaked than you notice, making the material thin enough that you can feel it all. The thickness of his cock, the texture of his pants, grinding against your sensitive core, bumping your clit each time he raises his hips.

A moan escapes your lips. A weak, cute little thing that only makes him want you more. He breaks from the kiss, charting a course down your neck to tease the curves of your breasts with his tongue. 

“Who told you that you could be this sexy?” 

“I don’t know” you giggle, a small glimmer of your former shyness coming through, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he tilts you just enough to give him the space to stroke your clit through your panties, forcing more and more of those sensual moans to pour out of you. 

“Just promise me you won’t stop” Seungmin begs, tucking your panties to the side to pet your dripping slit. “Keep being this sexy…this fucking cute…this—fuck.” He sinks his fingers into your core and you swallow them up eagerly, clenching tightly around them. 

You throw your head back, your back arched in pleasure. You know without looking that he’s watching you again. You know he’s getting off on how your breasts bounce each time you grind down onto his fingers, your pussy so wet that his whole hand’s slick with your juices. 

Seungmin navigates your body like magic, picking up on your most tender spots and knowing just when to hit them to make you tremble the way you did when you first stepped into this room. 

Cradling his cheeks in your palms, you come face to face with him, and say to him in the sweetest tone, “Fuck me already.”

Taking you into his arms, he sweeps you up out of the chair, and sets you down on the edge of the table. 

“Oh god, I didn’t know you could do that” you gasp, stunned that he could pick you up. You knew that Seungmin was fit, something more than obvious by the toned body your eyes are graced with when he pulls his shirt off. But fit enough to pick you up like you’re nothing? Now that you didn’t expect. 

“What? You didn’t expect me to be strong? I’m hurt” he pouts, pretending to be offended but not too offended to help you wiggle your dress up over your head. 

You slide back on the table and right out of your panties. “Get up here and I’ll make it better.” 

You spread your legs and he’s right in between them, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he makes his way up to a pussy wet enough to glisten in the glow of the overhead light. He can’t resist having a taste, humming at the deliciousness of your arousal dancing on his taste buds.

The tip of his tongue meets your clit, flicking it slowly at first then picking up an unforgiving speed. Your hands find his hair again and you’re writhing on the table, choking back moans with your fingers tangled in the back of his head.

The slurping sounds that fill the room make you want to cum right now. In his mouth. Down his chin. All over that gorgeous face of his. And he’d welcome it happily. Beg you to give him more even. That’s how badly he wants you. How badly he’s always wanted you. 

Seungmin’s mouth deserts you unexpectedly, leaving your walls spasming and your stiffened bud twitching in his absence. “Add that to the list of things you can’t stop doing” he whispers, crawling on top of you.

You’re beautiful from any angle, there’s not one he can think of where you aren’t, but this has to be his favorite. You look so perfect underneath him. Right where you should be. 

“Getting eaten out?” you ask, planting a kiss on his shiny pink lips. 

“I meant tasting so good but…” he muses, the head of his cock throbbing at your entrance, “I can make sure that happens too.”

That first bit of contact, the very first time you feel his cock raw against your pussy, has you purring. Seungmin feeds you just the tip at first, stretching you out little by little, loving everything about how your body reacts to him. Running your nails across his back, you raise your hips, whining for more. 

“What are you whining for, baby?” Seungmin teases, giving you one inch after another, “Is this it? This what you want?” 

“Aah, yes, I want it. More please. Please” you plead, your eyes growing glossier the wider you’re stretched. 

It crosses his mind to spend more time teasing you just a little bit, it’s in his nature to be a bit of an asshole after all, but you feel way too good to play games with. You fit him like a glove and with every thrust he becomes more and more convinced that you must’ve been made for him. 

“You’re so perfect” he praises, massaging your curves, “Fuck, I love your body. Your face. Your everything.”

Soaking in the praise and the ecstasy of his length dragging along the ridges of your core, you could swear that you were glowing and, actually, you are. Glowing in his adoration and, courtesy of an accidental glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a fair share of your own. 

Seungmin catches you looking at yourself and smiles, pounding into you harder. “Don’t look away” he instructs, holding your head in place, “Have you ever seen how pretty you are when you cum?”

“N…no” you manage, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming at the tremors each thrust sends through your body. 

“Good, we’ll see it for the first time together then.”

Using his free hand, he grips one of your thighs, pressing your leg back so that he feels even deeper than before. The force is powerful enough that you feel it in your chest, vibrating down to your fingertips.

You can’t take your eyes off of your reflection, he won’t let you. Your body moves so beautifully when he’s fucking you that he needs you to see it how he does. You need to see the way your tits bounce and your hips jiggle as the tension builds up inside of you and you’re choking back moans with his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Seungmin doesn’t need you to tell him how close you are. Your body gives him every cue he needs. The tightening of your muscles. The stuttering of your breath. The legs wrapped around his waist, making sure he keeps punishing your sweet spot, pushing you further and further to your breaking point. 

“Mmm, coming. I’m coming” you moan, letting your high wash over you. 

He kisses you on the cheek, refusing to let up on you. “Look at you, coming all over my cock” he coos, committing every face you make to memory, “Such a good girl.” 

The vision of you is almost too much. Your legs spread out, your brain all fuzzy, your body overstimulated, and your juices pooling on the table below. He can’t hold back anymore. He can’t ignore the tightness and the warmth of your velvet walls fluttering around him. 

“Oh fuck” he hisses, pulling out just in time to coat your swollen pussy in a thick glaze of his cum. It’s hot and tingly on your clit, tickling as it drips between your folds. 

You stroke his back, comforting him on his way down from his high and he does the same for you, his fingertips running up and down your thighs. The room falls into silence. Not an awkward one but one of comfort. One where you hold each other as long as you want. Not minding the heavy breathing or the sweaty bodies. Just enjoying being together before it dawns on the two of you that you’re both still at work. 

“Shit, shit, shit! The front desk is definitely on fire by now”  you fuss, rushing to throw your clothes back on. 

Seungmin’s not nearly in as much of a rush as you are. He’s having too much fun watching you freak out to care about if there's a bunch of agitated customers waiting up front or not. 

Grabbing you by the wrist, he spins you into a hug that calms you down in an instant. 

“So what if it is?” he asks, brushing your hair out of your face, “I have to ask you something important first.”

“Important? Important like what?”

“Important like I know we don’t close until 2am tonight but could I see you after, maybe?"

You shrug, acting like you don’t care when you’re literally screaming on the inside, “I guess so.” 

“It’s like that? You ‘guess’ so?”

Seungmin slaps your ass and draws you into a kiss that has you ready to drop your panties for him for a second time. 

“Fine. I more than guess. I’d love to see you later” you blush, playfully pinching his cheeks, “I’ll wait for you up front then?”

He nods, getting one last squeeze out of you before turning you loose. “Let me see it one more time.”

Knowing exactly what he means, you take a step back to flash him your new piercing. 

“Yup, still very hot” he winks, casually leaning against the table he just fucked your brains out on. 

You smooth your dress back out, giggling as you skip back out onto the floor to find that everyone’s staring at you. Machines are buzzing but no one’s actually doing any work. Even the customers are staring at you waiting to see what happens next. 

Clearing your throat, you hold your head high, and march across the floor. You manage to hide your excitement just long enough to make it back to the hallway where your joyful squeals can flow freely. You can’t remember the last time you felt this excited about something. About someone. About yourself.

You aren’t too big for a belly button piercing. It looks sexy as fuck on you, you must admit. And you aren’t too big for Seungmin who happens to look sexy as fuck on you too. You feel beautiful the way you are, truly, and there’s a boy sitting at his station, too busy thinking about you to get anything done, that thinks so too. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[drak3n]

ELECTRICIAN!TOJI

CONTENT WARNINGS: fwb to lovers trope, fluff, smut, he fucks you in your kitchen, single dad!toji, he’s a little possessive, reader is implied to be a bit younger than him (5+years)

sena’s note: i was going to write mechanic!toji first but changed my mind after seeing too much of that on tumblr. tattoo artist/piercer!choso is up next!

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who was going to enjoy a saturday home with his preschooler, having told his employer specifically that he wasn’t going to take any jobs today

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who ended up getting an onslaught of calls by said employer anyway and nearly slammed his fist into his phone screen if it wasn’t for megumi sitting next to him and watching a cartoon on the tv

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who grimly pulled up to your house in his car with megumi sitting in the back, carrying a toolbox in one hand and holding megumi’s hand with the other

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI whose scowl faltered at the sight of you opening the door, looking nervous yet thankful at the same time; who couldn’t deny that your little smile tugged at his heartstrings

“i’m so sorry, sir. i wouldn’t have insisted for your employer to send someone if i had known—”

this was the fifth time in a row you’d apologized to the man while he was busy checking your outlets and wirings. he had immediately noted that the outlets you were using were burning hot, his nose picking up on a faint burning smell you were somehow oblivious of.

megumi was seated on your couch, kicking his chubby legs as he chewed on a chocolate bar you had handed him after his daddy agreed.

“it’s good that you insisted, ma’am. check this out,” his gruff voice cut you off as he beckoned you over with his finger to check behind a loose outlet in your bedroom. you gasped as you bent over, just to see a cable inside the outlet that was severely melted and had darkened in color. “that… i never plugged anything in that lately. how did that happen?”

toji set his toolbox down on the floor next to the outlet, shaking his head at how the outlets were wired in this apartment. whoever was here last, or at all, had done a shitty ass job, that was for sure. “when’s the last time you had an electrician over?”

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who gaped when you told him you never hired an electrician ever since you had moved into this place, which was a little over two years ago

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who felt bad about the state your place was in and how clueless you were, and did something he never thought he’d do — pausing when he spotted your leaking tab in the kitchen, and fixing it as well without expecting anything in exchange, earning himself a million words of gratitude

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who noticed how sweet you were to megumi, offering him snacks and talking to him about school and his friends, and who soon found out that you worked with children

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who left your place the same evening after having denied a hefty tip — something he had never done once in his life — and having gotten invited to come over for dinner next saturday along with his little boy to repay him with a homemade, nice meal =)

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who found himself coming over more often, with or without megumi, and whenever it was the latter, it ended with him being balls-deep inside of you at some point

“t—toji, r—right there! fuck, so good!”

the older, bulky man took it as a sign to dive his hips harder into your tiny body as he bent you over the kitchen counter. he could tell you had never really been satisfied by a man before. it was no wonder; men your age just couldn’t do it the way an experienced and older man like him could.

the harsh fabric of his work pants rubbed against your bare ass with every thrust, and you mewled and squealed as his thick cock hit that one spot inside of you repeatedly.

“mhm? say what, princess?” his veiny, calloused, huge hands were on either side of your head and your hole tightened embarrassingly at that. toji was a sexy man, and he fucking knew it. guys your age could never compare to who was rearranging your guts right now.

“never… never had a dick as—good as yours!” you were sobbing at this point, delirious from the pleasure he was giving you. “n—no one ever fucked me this— shit! ‘m cumming!”

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who explicitly told you he wasn’t the type to commit, that he was the type to hook up and move on; and who was first delighted that you didn’t seem to mind fucking with no strings attached either

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who soon grew displeased when he came over one day to see a shirt that was not his (it was obviously too small for his muscular built) in your room

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who never fucked you any rougher than he did on that day, and who didn’t even look into your face once

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who stopped visiting you in hopes of forgetting you, knowing it was just him thinking with his dick whenever you crossed his mind, who denied having actually grown fond of a woman’s entire being and not just her pussy

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who begrudgingly came to the realization that he couldn’t look at other women the same anymore after he met you; who would always lower his gaze when other female clients who were obviously attracted to him tried to show off their bodies or charm him, which left him cold and unaffected

➩ ELECTRICIAN!TOJI who ditched his useless pride for once and showed up in front of your door one noon to take you out properly, and not spend time in your shitty and malfunctioning apartment

[creepling]

⋆.˚☀︎٠ ࣪⭑ A KNOCK AWAY

synopsis: returning packages and a broken washing machine lead you to spend the night with your hot neighbour, digger harkness.

tags: smut - minors dni. fem!reader. age difference (early 20s x late 30s). domestic elements. reader described as "shy" but not really. sexual tension. alcohol use. drinking games. awkward moments. oral (f receiving). couch sex. big dick (it's canon it's out of my control!!!). p in v. creampie. 4.4k words.

Your neighbour had a habit of ordering ludicrous amounts of packages but is never at home to collect them. It was almost every day they arrived and piled at your front door. The last few days you’ve knocked on his door to give them, but met by silence. Your small apartment is running out of room if any more decide to show up. You had been going in the afternoons once you came off work, but he either didn’t answer or wasn’t in. This time, on Saturday morning, you decided to knock on his door. Who cares if it’s the weekend, or it’s too early, you were determined to get those packages out of your house.

You knock gently at first and wait for a minute. No answer. A week. A whole week of this bullshit. Impatience clouds your sympathy, and you knock on the door harder. You hear a thud, a clank of glass, and a curse on the other side of the door. You knock again, calling up a groan of annoyance and an “I’m coming!”

The door opens, and you’re greeted by your neighbour for the first time since you moved here. He is shirtless, showing off a collection of tattoos. His mop of hair hadn’t met a comb yet; still scuffled by sleep. You could tell he was older, and you were taken aback by how attractive he was. Given in a rugged way. You half-expected a balding divorcee with a beer belly.

“You’re George, right? I live next door,” You introduce.

Eyes squint and bloodshot, he looks you up and down before nodding. “You know what time it is, sunshine? Too bloody early to be knocking on people’s doors.” He said, fighting through a hangover to communicate. The twang of an Aussie accent was the second thing to surprise you. Even with the twang of annoyance in his tone, you bite your cheek to fight off a flattered smile.

Your bashfulness forces you to ditch the defiant speech you prepared. “I’m aware of that- but I’ve tried to get a hold of you all week, but you seem to not be in during the afternoon.” You shuffle to your open door, grab one of the packages and gesture it to George, “There’s a ton of packages here for you.”

George’s annoyed face began to soften, and he let out an idle chuckle. “Shiiiiit, I forgot about those!”

He opened his door wider and began collecting the parcels from you. You got a peek inside his apartment. Your suspicions of his home were accurate, resembling what all men living alone succumb themself to; their own squaller.

“Thanks for holding onto them for me. And sorry for being cranky, hangovers, y’know?” George said, his tone now different, one more pleasant. You smile, feeling pleased that you have the chance to converse with a neighbour and know who lives next door.

“Hope you had a good night so it’s worth it,” you chuckle, taking a stack of the packages and shuffling to his door. George takes them from your hands swiftly. This left you standing by his door, looking around the living room, stumped on the small talk. You were never really good at this.

“I mean- it was alright. They just hit you more when you get older,” he dropped the remaining boxes by his door, rubbing his temples as he stretched. His abdomen extended, shifting the waistband of his pants, making you look away and stand in silence. George scratches the back of his neck as he looks at you, feeling the interaction fade to a farewell.

“I better get going, you’ve got a lot to unbox,” you say, slowly backing away.

George gets to the door, nodding and shooting you a smile. “Thanks again for keeping them safe.” You could have sworn he looked you up and down, in a different way this time. Sizing you up, for other means. Maybe it was your imagination.

You meekly wave before retreating to your apartment. With the packages gone, your eyes adjust to the clear space, and the lingering images of your neighbour hot in your thoughts.

The washing machine was stuck again, and no matter how hard you hit it, it was still broken. Today is not going well, and you were on the edge, especially since the only other machine in the block has an ‘out of order’ sign on it. You rub your hands along your face, the skin already flushed from anger. A shuffle of footsteps approaches the entrance, and you reveal yourself to see who is witnessing your self-pity.

“Useless fucking thing, ain’t it?” It was George, the first time you’ve seen him in clothes that weren’t pyjama pants with socks and slides. He looks like he’s back from work, or the gym, it is hard to tell. You did wonder what he did for a living.

“I’m lucky it broke before I put my laundry in,” You look at the bright side with heavy eyes and a half-assed smile.

“Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I do have a machine. Wouldn’t mind ya using it until they fix it,” George shrugs with a ‘no big deal’ attitude. Suddenly your neighbour was a beacon of hope, and the stress left you with a sigh of relief.

“That would be really helpful, thanks,” you pick up your laundry basket, following up the stairs. He hunched the duffle bags over his shoulder. Reaching the top of the stairs, he unlocks his front door and lets you in first, taking a look at his living room and huffing. “Sorry about the mess.”

Beer bottles and cans littering the coffee table, clothes on the floor or hanging from the couch and chairs. You take one breath and smell the stale air, keeping a straight face. “It’s okay,” You smile through it, not wanting to place judgment. Maybe he’s just a busy guy.

George quickly shows you the settings on the machine (which he wasn’t so sure about) before excusing himself to the shower. Before you could ask questions, he was dashing to the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices. You load the machine, press the button and hope for the best.

Alone in his apartment was daunting and you begin to explore. Mostly focused on the messiness, the environment nagging at your senses. Clean space, clean mind, as they say. You pick up the trash and throw it out, starting with the beer cans. Luckily you didn’t find anything too disgusting, with the odd dirty plate you could place in the sink. You open the curtains, coughing from the dust and open the window to release the smell of stale pizza and beer. Your mind is clearer, you go to wash your hands until you spot George standing by the entrance of the living room in awe. He is still in his towel, his right hand clenching the side to keep it in place, his hair wet and slicked back. You turn away immediately, looking anywhere but him, a kick of adrenaline overtaking your insides.

“Wasn’t aware I ordered room service,” he joked, amused by your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry- I should have just left and come back later for the laundry. But- I don’t know- your place looked like it needed a tidy-up. I can’t help myself, it’s a habit. God- I’m so stupid-”

“Don’t get your undies in a twist, it’s fine. I appreciate it,” George reassures, rubbing the back of his neck, “As you can see, I don’t get many visitors.”

When he closes the bedroom door to change, it’s safe for you to look again. That feeling in your stomach didn’t go away, it still brewed in the pit and crawled its way up your core. It makes you think about him again, like those sleepless nights after your first encounter, and your cheeks grow hot. Maybe this is a good time to slip out and avoid him like the plague. But what else would you be doing? Watching TV? Playing video games? All alone in your apartment, like you always are. That’s how your life has been, work, home, bed; absent of social life, of anything remotely adventurous. You keep your feet firmly on the ground, chewing your lip in thought. There was a time when you lived life on the edge, out every weekend, hooked up with people. Letting your old self come out to play wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies? I could do the rest for you if you want,” you call, inching towards the bedroom door so he can hear you. He opens the door quickly, startling you, wearing casual grey sweatpants and a white tee.

“Are you like a freelance maid or something? This how you get clients?” He leaned an arm on the door frame, looking down at you. He becomes the only thing in eyesight and you freeze, giving a shy smile.

“No, I just like cleaning, that's all. You seem like you need it, being a busy guy and all.” You study his eyes, wondering if he sees right through you.

George slowly nods, then snaps his fingers, heading towards the front door and sliding his shoes on. “Tell you what, love. I have to run a few errands, while I’m out I’ll leave you to it.”

You frown, crossing your arms. “You’re just gonna leave me, your neighbour you’ve met like once, in your house alone? You trust me like that?”

He shrugs, taking one of the duffle bags full of… something. “I’ve got many weapons I can pull on you if you try anything. Plus, you’re young and don’t look that strong, so I think I can take you on.” You weren’t sure if he was joking, but there was a cheeky look in his eye that allowed you to chuckle.

“That would do it. You can trust me.”

George gives a little salute, exiting the door. “Stuff’s under the kitchen sink. Good luck!”

You look at his limited supply, an empty bottle of bleach and a mysterious liquid in a spray bottle. You decide to use your supplies, grab them from your apartment, and come back to start the work.

You collapse on the couch gasping for air. People underestimate how much energy it takes to clean, especially when cleaning George’s house. Within an hour you cleaned the living room and kitchen and hung up your laundry to dry in your apartment. The worst part was the vacuuming, as like not owning cleaning supplies, he also didn’t have a vacuum. Go figure.

George eventually returned, greeted by your efforts and your limp body sprawled on his couch. You quickly got up, hoping he didn’t mind. Heck, this guy doesn’t have a vacuum, he can’t be the judge. “So, what do you think?” You anticipate.

“You did a bloody good job, I’ll tell ya that,” a smile on his face, making you smile too. “And since ya the best neighbour on this side of Metropolis, I got ya a lil payment to say thanks.”

George pulls out a crate of beers and takeaway pizza, presenting them to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you smile at the thought. “Thanks, George.”

“Please, call me Digger, everyone calls me that,” he said, “Thought we could have a couple of beers and I’d feed ya, but I’m no chef, hence the pizza.”

“So, Digger… is this you inviting me over for dinner?” You ask, pursing your lips. He thought about it and then nodded his head. “I guess I am,” he smirks.

Pizza crusts and beer cans decorate the coffee table, the television musing low music. You laugh at a joke Digger told you, hiding your mouth to not spit all over the place. He sits low on the couch, his hands resting between his legs with a beer. With your legs close to your chest, you take a sip of beer when a silence falls between you.

“Thanks for having me, I’m having a lovely time.” You confess, a little tipsy. You get shy admitting that, focusing on the music, unaware of Digger’s eyes not leaving your sight.

“I didn’t have a college kid cleaning my house on my bingo card,” he muses teasingly, smirking at your bashful smile.

“I am not a college kid! I graduated ages ago.”

“And by ages ago you mean in the last five years?”

He chuckles at your look of defeat. “Says the guy who’s five years off getting a pension,” you tease in defence.

“I’m not that old!” He defended back, “Nowhere near it!”

“Well, you’re at least old enough to clean your own house and have a vacuum.”

“You got me there…” he says into his beer.

The silence fell between you once again, but surprisingly it was not awkward. The air was thick, and not with stale air like before. You convince yourself it’s one-sided, keeping yourself together. You had an idea, but it was juvenile. When he doesn't say anything to keep the conversation going, you go on and suggest it.

“How about we play truth or drink?”

“How old are you? Five?” He scoffs.

“We already established my age, remember? C’mon, it’ll be a good icebreaker. Don’t you wanna get to know your friendly neighbour?” You nudge his arm playfully, realising you’ve been going that a lot since you had a drink. Mostly when he told a joke. You try not to cringe, realising your inferiority. He probably thinks you’re immature, and you suddenly see yourself as a fool. But when he turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention while cracking open another beer, you feel a little better about yourself.

“Who’s asking first?” He asks.

You volunteered since you suggested playing. You turn towards him, fighting through a fit of giggles, liking the way his eyes smile at you. He has nice eyes, light in colour, a mix of blue and grey with crow's feet winging the sides.

“Okay, let’s start easy. How long have you lived on the block?” You ask.

“‘Bout five months, I’d say,” he says.

“Do you move around a lot?”

“Oi, thought you ask one question at a time?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just curious,” you dart your eyes to his smirking lips before looking away.

“To answer your other question, I do move around a bit. It’s a job thing.”

You look back at him, catching his stare, the one that never seems to fade from you. You like the way he stares at you, so attentive like he refuses to have you out of his sight. It’s the type of stare that makes someone feel special.

“My turn,” he chirps, “are you always this shy around people?”

“What? I’m not shy,” you scoff.

“Really? You’re not shy?”

“What happened to starting easy?”

“No, you said that. I didn’t. I never start easy,” he says haughtily.

You roll your eyes, taking the beer can to your lips and taking a sip. Digger scoffs in shock, “No way are you drinking to that.”

“It’s a ridiculous question, plus I technically did answer the question. I’m not shy.”

Digger shakes his head in disappointment, breaking eye contact to chuckle into his hand. You narrow your eyes, readying the next question.

“Do you have a wife and kids?” You ask.

Digger didn’t act like you struck a nerve, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. He shook his head, and you take that as an answer, not wanting to press further. Yet, he begins to speak, in a tone softer than the one you’ve been getting used to;

“I know at my age I probably should, but it’s never worked out, y’know? The whole love thing I’ve never gotten the hang of.”

You resonate with him, meekly returning a smile. “Me either.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Digger said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re good-looking. Woulda bet somebody snagged ya by now.”

You can’t help but chuckle, hearing how wrong his words are. “I guess I’ve gotten close before, but it was never meant to be.”

Digger nods in agreement like he is in the same boat. You had a strong urge to move closer to him, but resort to fidgeting with a thread on the coach. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Digger returns his gaze to you. It was more intense, and you feel him all over you. As you grow the courage to meet his eyes, you see them trailing from your lips to meet you, his icy eyes darkening and lips parting as he readies his words.

“How would you feel about kissing me?”

Your stillness speaks volumes to him, and from the look of shock in your eyes, Digger’s smile fades and turns sour. He hides his face in his hands, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck- Just drink to that, it was bloody stupid,” his self-depreciation eats at you and you try and find the words to explain yourself. He was right, you were shy, and it got in the way of your feelings. So much for being the big flirt like you planned.

“No, it’s fine, honestly-”

He cuts you off, “I just thought- why else would wanna hang out with an old fuck like me? Keep my packages, clean my house,” he groans out a sigh, “and the way you look at me, fuck, it’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Digger-” you catch his attention, softening your face, and placing your beer on the coffee table. You shift your body closer to his, your movement swift but gentle. “I’d like it if you kissed me.”

He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the proximity, noticing the small details of your features, the softness of your lips. He swallows back his nerves, “Nah- you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

There is only one way to prove him wrong, and you did it by making the first move. You press your lips against him, and you're struck with his immediate touch as he engulfs you in his arms. Your hands snake up his chest to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as he beckons you to press your body against him with his firm hold. He grins into the kiss at the sound of your whimpers, holding the small of your waist and guiding you to his lap. You go with the motion, swinging your leg around and straddling him, enamoured by the hold he has on you. The makeout was sloppy, tipsy on beer and getting more drunk on each other’s lips. Digger’s kisses were firm and deep, his chapped lips coated in your sweet spot as he glided his tongue along yours. His hands lay haven on your asses, rubbing his callous palm around the fabric of your pants, enchanting your hips to move ever so slightly.

“Ain’t so shy now, are ya?” He grunts into your ear, migrating his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your faint skin. You see stars, closing your eyes in bliss, your fingers tugging at his shirt and fighting off the urge to rip it off. He takes the time to remove his t-shirt with your eager assistance, latching onto you once you discard it.

“Please, I need you,” you plead. You gaze down at him, your stare both close and far. His bucking hips invite your crotch to feel his length, the tip of his bulge grinding against your thigh.

He whispers to you, “Tell me what you want.”

 “Use me, I know you want to,” you taunt, enjoying the light that ignites in his eyes, his grip tighter on your skin.

“You’ll regret saying that, but I bet you can handle it,” he jesters, pulling your hair to expose your neck, his lips latching back onto your sweet skin. His other hand pushes your top over your breasts, exposing your hardening nipples. Licking towards your nipples, sucking on them gently and cupping your tits in his hands, grazing his teeth when you grind down on his erection.

Digger, hungry for more of you, lays you down on the couch. His eyes demand your attention, taking time to pull down your pants and underwear, drenched in your arousal. He lowers his head to your cunt, prying your legs open as you try to hide how wet you were.

“Don’t hide from me, love, show me how pretty you are,” he muses, admiring your glistening walls, lapping them tenderly with the tip of his fingers. Relishing in your squirms, he gazes at you under his lashes. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Your hands grip his hair when his tongue makes contact with your sensitive walls, his prominent nose snug on your clit as he eats you out. His movements are deep and steady, keeping himself in place between your quivering thighs, refusing to come up for breath as a rising feeling of release fills your insides. Shifting his tongue from your walls to your clit, his nose taking place not to neglect your pleasure, his eyes checking your reactions as his pride swelled from your raptured state. He takes a breath to tease you in between, his hoarse voice wavering against your heat, “Look at you, getting so worked up for me.”

“’m so close,” that was music to Digger’s ears, egging him on to keep up the pace.

Your whimpers rise into moans, and your thighs shiver under his grip and come undone. Digger doesn’t stop, pressing a firm hand on your stomach, keeping you in place so he rides out your high. You’re flushed in humility, but fuck it feels amazing. You break a sweat, shivering at the cooling of your hot skin, sighing in relief when Digger finally relaxes his hold on you. His face meets yours, your arousal coating the stubble on his chin and spreading to his chops. He is ferocious and light-headed – as if drunk on the taste of you.

“Hope you’ve still got some spunk in ya,” he pants, “I’m as stiff as a board here.”

Digger invites your hand to feel his erection. You didn’t think he could be harder than he was before, but he comes full of surprises. He slings the waistband of his trousers down and his cock springs free, twitching at the touch of your flinching fingers.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Blessed by the man himself, his size was insane. You straighten in intimidation.

“I’ll go slow, okay? Just- fuck- I’m bursting at the seams here,” he begs, cupping your cheek with a reassuring hand.

You nod with a morbid curiosity, unable to deny the instinct to have him inside you, to feel every inch of him. Digger litters you in kisses, sloppy and idle as he dampens your cheeks and lips. Opening your legs wide, sucking in a breath, you watch as he lines his cock to your entrance. There was no fuss in sliding inside you, your dripping cunt lubing his tip and coating his shaft, the feeling of him inside you more filling than painful. It sets a spark in your mind, your eyes distant, the twitch of his cock against your walls melting your senses.

An unexpected moan escapes Digger’s lips, but he is attentive enough to coo for your attention, holding your face and bringing you back to earth.

“You still with me, hun?” He chuckles at your dazed look, trying to keep himself together as you tighten around him. You blink back to reality and wrap your legs around him, mewling at the slow thrusts coming into you. You eventually nod a reply, straining your neck to witness his cock buried inside you to train your hole for his massive size. He takes advantage of your position, locking a hand behind your head and picking up the pace. He is smitten by your squeaks. His rough hand clenches your hip, setting out to fuck you good. As you will soon learn, Digger has a habit of getting carried away. You learn a lot of dirty things about him that both shock you and fill you with sweetly sick lust.

Digger has you bent over the arm of the couch, his cock pummelling in and out of your abused cunt, muffling your feral moans with a hand clasped over your mouth. He arches your back and presses his lips against your ear, reminding you that he can see right through you.

“Is this what you wanted? To fuck you; get you drunk on my fat dick. Bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

“You’re so good, so ‘fucking good,” you moan, your eyes glued to him with lust, a sly smile across your face. Digger sticks two fingers into your mouth, teasing your tongue to swirl around them, smirking at your eagerness.

“Shit, that’s enough to make me finish,” he says in a low voice, “And you wouldn’t want me cumming inside you, would ya?”

The way you clench around his dick and the sidious look in the dim light suggest the opposite. “No, come inside me,” you seal the deal.

“You’re so bloody dirty.” Digger’s eyes turn dark, his hand wrapping around your neck, rutting into you faster and harder than before. You see stars, giving into the numbing pleasure you succumb to. A dumbfound smile stretches across your lips once you feel the warmth of Digger’s seed filling your cunt, hitting against your womb. His weight falls on you momentarily, leaving kisses along your back while his energy is slowly sucked out of him. His cock slips out and before his heavy eyes close over, he gazes at the cum dripping from your slit, groping your ass for a better view.

Digger gathers his senses, only noticing you struggling to get up from your stiff knees. He brings you onto his lap, soothing your legs and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, that was something…” He chuckles, “Ya think we got a little carried away?”

“I think I’ll never be able to walk again,” you joke, yet anticipated the next few days entailing leg pain.

He felt guilty, knowing to make up for it he would need more than pizza and beer. He continues to sooth your legs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He suggests.

There he is again, that beacon of hope. He is going to find it hard to get rid of you now. “That’d be amazing.”

[twilghtkoo]

ride: first date [part one] jjk

“you nervous?” “yeah.”

summary. you’re first date with jungkook and he’s picking you up on his motorcycle

pairings. biker!jungkook x reader (f)

genres/au. fluff, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, college au

warnings. flirty jungkook, oc and jk touch each other (not sexual), poor attempt at motorcycle knowledge (my fault) T__T, if i missed anything pls lmk!!

word count. 1.6k

notes. first part!! and the beginning of a new series but with jungkook o.o i rly liked this one hehe, pls like and reblog if u enjoyed this !! also did y’all see jungkook’s promotion schedule photo bc W T F

[ series masterpost | masterlist | taglist ]

—

you’re the girl he’s had a crush on since he saw you for the first time in the library on campus. you were wearing grey sweatpants and a random hoodie with your hair tied up in a low ponytail, your glasses framing your face in the most prettiest way. you were frantically typing and writing stuff down on your laptop, and when he had walked over to take a seat next to you— after the pep talk he had with himself— your notes still looked neat and colorful despite your distressed scribbling.

after he had the courage to tap you on the shoulder and start a conversation, you’ve both quickly became friends. it was surprising to see how well you both bonded together. and you’re not usually someone who makes friends so easily, it having to do with your shyness and social anxiety. but jungkook had a charm and such an easy-going personality that drew you in.

you’ve mostly hung out on campus, both of your schedules not aligning in your favors due to exam season. so your hangouts were located in the library most of the time. opting to studying together and just being satisfied basking in each others presence.

around the tenth hangout, jungkook asked you out on a date. you were working on a quiz and he was writing an essay when he slid a piece of paper over to you before he went back to typing on his laptop.

will you go out on a date with me this saturday?

check ☐ yes or ☐ yes :)

you would’ve said yes even if he gave you a ‘no’ option.

-

a couple days later, before the weekend, he had walked you to the campus’s bus stop and waited with you. you had an evening class and it ended around eight, the blue sky now turning a shade darker as the minutes pass and it made you frown.

“how do you get home? you said you park in parking garage b and that’s across campus. you didn’t have to walk me here, although i really appreciate it.” you said, worried. from the eyes of others, jungkook looks tough, if his tattoos, piercings, fit figure had anything to go by. but you cared about him and it’s natural for you to be worried. anything could happen.

your concerns make him grin, he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“i’m okay, promise. and i ride my bike to get places.” he assures you.

you tilt your head, staring at him with curious eyes. “like a motorcycle?”

he nods, holding his small grin when he watches your eyes grow bigger.

you gasp, “really? you own a motorcycle?”

“yup, she’s my baby. got her when i turned 20. she’s precious to me.” he tells you before leaning down next to your ear. “but don’t worry you’re more precious.”

you didn’t have time to respond because your transportation pulls up and jungkook grabs your hand to walk you to the entrance of the bus.

-

jungkook arrived at your place a bit early but he couldn’t help it. he was excited. he had texted you he was here but told you not to rush.

he’s has never been this nervous in his life since having to tell his mom he wanted to major in computer science and not med school like she wanted. he’s nervous because he’s going on a date with you.

and you’re in your bedroom trying to gather your necessities into your shoulder bag, deciding to take a peek through your window that shows the front of your building and you’re able to see jungkook next to his bike.

he’s not sure how to stand when you walk out your door. should he lean against his bike with his arms crossed? he almost decided to just sit on it but why if he’s going to get off anyways to greet you. should he pretend he’s on his phone until he sees you?

“kook!”

he is shaken out of his internal turmoil when he spots you lightly jogging up to him, a radiant smile lighting up your entire face with warmth and joy.

“sorry, did i make you wait?” she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, peering up at him with guilt and curiosity with the shiny black bike next to him.

he quickly shakes his head. “no, i wasn’t waiting long. don’t worry.” he assured you.

“you look pretty.” jungkook compliments you, scanning your features with the same grin he had when he had asked you out on a date.

you blush, “thank you, you too. i mean, you look really really handsome.”

his eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of his lips turned upwards. his lip piercings shining and glaring from the sunlight, almost blinding you.

he notices you staring at his bike with interest.

“you nervous?”

“yeah.” you admit, sheepishly smiling.

you watch as jungkook unzips his leather jacket and sliding it off before he makes his way to you. he helps you slide off your bag before helping you slide your arms in the sleeves. his smell and the soft scent of his cologne makes you feel giddy inside and makes your heart hammer.

“i’ll ride slow, i have precious cargo today.” he responds, zipping the jacket up and grabbing all your hair from out the jacket. an action that makes your heart beat louder out of your chest.

you slide your bag back over your head to rest on your shoulder as you watch jungkook grab the helmet that rested on the back of his bike.

“did the bike come with an extra helmet?” you question, genuinely curious.

he’s careful to not mess up your hair as he slides the helmet over your head, and strapping it on.

he hums before he responds. “no, i bought it yesterday.” he tightens a strap, then asking if it was too tight, you said no.

“you bought it for me?”

“i told you, i have precious cargo. can’t have nothing happen to you.” he finishes making sure your helmet was secured, lightly patting the top of it before he slid his on.

watching jungkook do his thing and putting on his gloves was kind of hot…okay, really hot.

jungkook gets on first, kicking the kick stand off the ground and holds out his gloved hand for you to take. giving your hand a squeeze as he notices your small steps before you climb on behind him. instantly wrapping your arms around his tiny waist, when you tightened your grasp you were able to feel the sculpted muscles underneath his t-shirt. only making you intrigued on what’s hiding beneath the thin cotton fabric.

“hold on to me okay, squeeze me if anything.” he tells you softly, but you know he’s serious.

-

the sound of his motorcycle coming to life was like a breath of fresh air. in fact, his frequent gentle touches at stop lights were everything calming and you appreciated it.

the light just turned red and jungkook slows down to a stop. your knees rested against his hips as your arms circled his waist, both your hands linked together. he frees his hands from the handle bars to rest on your hands, giving them a squeeze.

and god, you’re very thankful for this helmet that’s hiding your red face and your embarrassingly huge smile.

his hands then roam to your knees then down your shins, patting a rhythm and then running over your denim covered leg soothingly.

is he doing this to make you go crazy? cause it’s working.

you’re not sure if it was the coffee you had this morning or his touches that boosted this sudden confidence but your hands loosened around his hips and gripped them. squeezing where his bare skin ends and you feel the hem of his black jeans.

jungkook places a hand over yours, not letting your hands move anywhere else. he wants yours to stay where it’s at for the moment.

he tilts his head back. “you doing okay?”

you nod, “yeah, you’re a safe driver. five stars.” you joke.

he chuckles at that and the light turns green.

-

he took you to a dog cafe. not just any dog cafe, but a corgi cafe. you didn’t even know this cafe existed. oh but through the big window in the front of the building, seeing the few corgis you could see, you wanted to burst with excitement.

“you like corgis?” he asks, pointing to the pen that’s in your hand with an acrylic artwork of a corgi at the end. you had bought it at a stationery store a few weeks ago.

your lips curve upward into a small but genuine smile. “yeah, they’re my favorite dogs.”

he smiles with you, mentally storing that information into his brain.

“you haven’t been here before have you?” he asks nervously, helping you off the bike and unstrapping your helmet. he helps you fix your hair and brushes back a few strands.

you shake your head. “no, i didn’t even know a corgi cafe existed here.”

“good, i was worried you’ve already been here.” he holds his hand out for you to take, in which you did.

you’re swaying on your feet unconsciously, switching gazes from the nervous boy and the sight of a freaking corgi cafe in front of you.

but jungkook notices you.

he hums out, “come on pretty, don’t wanna keep you out too late.”

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐙𝐘 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: imagine you go for dinner at your neighbours house and you’re told you’re getting married? you better get cozy for this one!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings for this chapter: none

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: hey y’all…. i told you guys i don’t have a planned schedule for this series and i’m really starting to think i should 😭. i hope you guys enjoy this and lemme know if you wanna be tagged 🤭

masterlist

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"Renaissance yachtin' in capri!" Nadia sang as she entered the driveway of the Hamiltons only a week after the first dinner. Knowing her mother's dramatics, Thembi had once again requested her presence at the home except she had to drive straight to the Hamiltons house. Finding the situation weird but not giving it a second thought, she parked next to the all black G63, one of her many dream cars and one she hadn't seen the last time she was here. Thinking it was just a simple visit (and Thembi hadn't given her a chance to dress up after the phone call), Nadia fixed the Nike tee and adjusted the biker shorts she had worn throughout her chill Saturday morning.

Knocking on the wooden door felt weird, given that she was welcomed into the house before but she felt like something quite suspicious was going on but she couldn't even figure it out. Rubbing her eye whilst waiting for someone to answer the door, she wrote a few reminders on her phone to not forget to complete the work she had to take home from the previous day.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Nadia had recognised the voice to be Nicola, adding a little laugh after her sentence. "I woke up late so this is valid." Nadia replied, giving a smile as she entered the house with Nicola making room for her to walk in. After the first dinner, the two women had kept in touch because of the growing friendship and Willow, who would send a voice message every day to say hi. But this time, Nadia couldn't hear the kids laughing or playing around the house.

Oh, this was serious.

"Is that Nadia, darling?" Linda's voice chimed through the entrance hallway leading to the living room. "Hello Mrs Hamilton." The young woman greeted, giving Linda a side eye as she held a glass of water in her hand. "Please Nadia, rather call me Linda. Do come through, my dear!"

"We're out by the patio, need the bathroom before we start?" Nicola asked, making Nadia way more confused the more footsteps she took. "Start with what?" She trailed off, seeing Nicola just smile and head into the direction of the patio with her following. This was officially starting to get weird but Nadia chose to push her thoughts aside for this lunch.

"Oh she's here! How was the drive, Nads?" Her mom spoke up as soon as Nadia's foot hit the wooden floor of the large patio. Different types of charcuterie boards were placed with juices and waters to accommodate everyone but the atmosphere seemed so different from the dinner last week, it rather felt like a meeting.

"Helloooo." Nadia dragged out the greeting as she eventually found an empty seat, once again, next to Lewis. The man was genuinely a sight to see as the sun shined on him as he sat comfortably on the patio bench chair. Wearing a black NY cap, a graphic tee once again with a pair of jeans this time and his jewellery on display, Lewis smiled up at her with a toothy grin.

After personally greeting everyone around the table and answering their fast questions, she plopped down onto the chair with a few of her bracelets clanging together. The familiar scents of each other from the last time they met fused together as they both studied each other once again.

Nadia's tattoos were finally on display, each dainty artwork fluttered around her skin with a few being inked in red. The most noticeable thing being her hair as she changed the colour to black and it reached past her back. The makeup was very simple and she only carried her phone and lipgloss in her hand as she placed the overly cracked device onto the table right next to Lewis'. When she smiled, he noticed a small gem on one of her front teeth and he definitely admired her style, not one he would regularly picture on a high school teacher.

"You know Nadia, we were just talking about how odd it would be to suddenly become famous within a matter of hours." Linda started, grabbing the large jug of grape juice to give the girl a glass. Helping the older woman, Nadia lifted herself off the chair and gave Lewis a look, non verbally asking if it was true and his eyebrows furrowed whilst pursing his lip upwards, making Nadia smile a little.

"Really? In what aspects?" She sat back down, lifting the glass to her gloss covered lips and only taking little sips. "Oh just how you'd maybe have to close off social media for a while and suddenly having people around you to help with everything." Linda said, taking her glass of water and eyeing Nadia's mom after her sentence. Tilting her head in confusion, she made sure to sit comfortably as this was definitely an interesting conversation.

"I never really thought about it like that actually. The way teams assemble within a matter of hours is something else but I always hear my students say that they're one hundred percent ready for fame." Nadia watched the two older women constantly look at each other with the older men being suspiciously quiet. "Oh and don't even get me started on the scandals you're put through." Nicola submerged from the house, holding a fresh pizza on a wooden board with an extra plate.

"Lewis, you'd know a thing or two about these things right?" Nicola smirked as she placed the plate on the opposite side of the table. Snapping her head towards Lewis, he sighed then nodded before straightening up his posture as it was before. Now Nadia was incredibly confused. Although she spent at least two hours in conversation with Lewis, she never really found out what exactly he does for a living even though he knew what she did as she went on a whole rant about her day with the teenagers. The way he had carried himself whilst speaking with everyone and just how he listened made it seem like he could be a businessman of some sort that clearly made his money and he made it well as he wore jewellery pieces that she could only dream of seeing.

A beat of silence passed and a knock on the door was heard. "Oh, that must be Gerald." Anthony got up in quite a hurry, with the table falling into conversation to detour the previous topic. After the man was welcomed onto the patio, he placed his small briefcase next to him on the chair with Nadia's suspicions growing more and more.

But what if he was really just there for lunch?

The word 'deactivate' kept being thrown around between Nicola, Thembi and Linda for several minutes, snapping Nadia and Lewis out of their conversation on her tattoos. "Nads, come here really quickly and bring your phone." Her mom ordered as the young girl walked to their side of the table. Standing over all three women, she held her phone in front of her mom's face. "How do you deactivate your Instagram? Nicola here made one for me but i don't want it anymore." Thembi asked, once again eyeing Linda.

Showing the directions on her own phone, Nadia then became distracted by her stepdad's question. "Nads, do you know when Rea's flight lands? Will you be okay to go?" He asked, slightly jumping at something. "Yes, I'll be fine. Her flight lands at like two in the morning so after here I'll just finish up some work then go to the airport early." Nadia responded, feeling her hand move a little as she spoke to James.

Thembi tapped her daughter's hand as Nadia focused back on her phone. Seeing her instagram page now logged out, she groaned at the thought of her completely forgetting her password to it. Plopping back into her seat defeated, Lewis eyed her then her phone that she placed on the table. "You good?" He asked, turning his body to look at her. "I think I  accidentally logged myself out of insta and i forgot where i wrote down the password." Nadia frowned a little as she clasped her hands together. Even though he didn't want to seem like he was smiling at her misery but the little pout she had on her face was adorable and obviously he wasn't going to admit that anytime soon.

"Okay, I cannot do this anymore." Anthony announced out as he sighed which caught everyone's attention. "Dad, what's going on?" Lewis asked worried, he had noticed his father was quiet most of the time but he brushed it off knowing that his father was usually like this.

"Son, listen. I know what I'm about to say will sound insane but I need you to listen very carefully. Along with you too, Nadia." Anthony stated. Linda then stood next to her husband in terror. "Wait, Anthony. Are you sure you want to do this right now?" She muttered.

And now the uneasy feeling came right back.

"Lewis, you know I care for you deeply however these past few weeks have been tough for you... and pr." His dad started off, earning a sigh from Lewis and a pinch on the bridge of his nose. Seeing Lewis stress like this was weird for Nadia and what exactly did his father mean by PR? Anyone could tell that he wanted to say something but chose to keep quiet.

Now sitting up properly, Nadia was intrigued with the entire situation and wondered how famous Lewis actually was.

"Linda and I, along with Nadia's parents and Nicola have decided that we wanted to help you to clean up your image a little more even though you are a private person. And for that, we've come up with the concept of a fake marriage between you and Nadia." Anthony concluded and took his seat.

It was as if the blood from Nadia completely left her face after that very last sentence however her face stayed extremely neutral. Her face rather snapped towards her parents who were avoiding eye contact with her.

The silence was so loud, the birds chirping ever so slightly as if they were part of the plan as well. Looking at everyone's face, anyone could tell that this had probably been discussed many times before. "What?" Nadia being the first one to say something, spoke in a monotone voice.

"Look we wanted to see how you two would get along when you first met and it had seemed to work very well. We're only really looking out for you, Lewis. These rumours have kinda taken a toll on you." Nicola voiced, seeing that their faces were stoic yet burning daggers into everyone's skulls.

Finally looking at each other, Lewis and Nadia's eyes met with no source of attraction to each other in that present moment. "This is crazy." Lewis muttered to himself as he shook his head whilst looking down at his shoes.

"Okay." Nadia said, crossing her arms and looked at her mom directly. "Okay?" Lewis grumbled with slightly narrowed eyes to the girl. "Yeah. Clearly this is important and stuff so I'll do it." Nadia responded with a calm facade but she was truly screaming on the inside, her leg shaking underneath the table. Shocked as he was at her nonchalant response to the situation, he slumped back and chose to not speak up in front of guests. Lewis wasn't frustrated in the slightest but he was just extremely confused.

"What about the details?" Lewis sighed, feeling through his beard and accepting his fate.

"Wait, you're actually doing this?" Thembi expressed. If anything, Thembi felt embarrassed to even coming up with this suggestion thinking that it was going to help the driver and his many social problems. "Ma, please tell us the details before we rethink doing this for you guys." Nadia deadpanned, grabbing a grape from one of the charcuterie boards displayed.

"Well. You would have to tell the world that you've been married for at least a year or two and I've already told your PR team, Lewis, to get everything ready before you announce. For now, you're only allowed to tell your closest friends and coworkers about this so that it doesn't seem suspicious that your friends didn't know of your marriage." Nicola started.

"Nadia, because you're now affiliated with Lewis, security and a team will have to assembled to be at your beck and call. Marie from Lewis' team will come over to help you choose potential candidates for your everyday team. Now the difficult part. You two have to be married legally because you know how people get, Lewis. They'll want evidence. And that's Gerald is here for." She concluded, gesturing to the guest to open his briefcase but god, did he feel awkward.

"Uh, hello. Here's the marriage certificate you two are meant to sign for the court to recognise it as an actual marriage." The poor man was red in the face as he shakily placed the certificate between Nadia and Lewis with a pen. With her freshly manicured hand, the girl picked the pen and signed underneath her name officially as a Mrs. She took a quick glance at Lewis' name and it seemed so familiar but the thing that intrigued her the most was the 'Sir' before anything.

Lewis had a good look at Nadia's side profile as he watched her sign the official papers. She didn't seem bothered with anything that was said, it was as if everything just defeated her and she just accepted it. If there's one thing he noticed was that it looked like she didn't have a clue about who he was at all and that was so fascinating to him.

She handed the pen to him, their hands touching a little with the warmest touch as they made eye contact. They both couldn't read each other's eyes, only dark brown pupils staring into each other's souls. Lewis then also signed with a bit of hesitation, the reality falling on him as he dragged the pen to the very last of his signature.

"Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Hamilton." Gerald broke the silence as he uttered his words. He quickly packed his briefcase and walked away from the table with a small wave to everyone to escape from the awkwardness of the lunch table.

"You only have to do this for a year or so then you can either divorce publicly or privately. And the living situation has to be changed. Nadia, you will have to be almost everywhere with Lewis now that you've signed that certificate so I am not sure how you will handle this at your workplace. Do you have an active passport?" Anthony ended with his question to which the quiet girl just nodded.

"Wait, where am I going to live?" Nadia asked, eventually snapping out of the quiet demeanour she had. "Well you'll have to speak to your husband about that." Linda smiled at the two, the smile slowly falling when seeing their deadpanned faces.

Sighing out for the final time, Lewis sighed and lightly tapped Nadia on the arm signaling for her attention. He held his car keys in his hand and she knew that she had to go because being there any longer would've suffocated her. The newly married couple simultaneously stood up and gathered their belongings, making everyone's faces grow into confusion.

"Where are you guys going?" Thembi asked, standing up as well with a worried expression. All Lewis did was shrug as he fixed his shirt and move out of the way so that Nadia could walk before him. "Bye everyone! Your charcuterie boards looked amazing by the way, Linda." It was as if someone completely different had greeted the group goodbye because her mood changed in a matter of seconds as if nothing happened.

"What the hell did we just do?" Nicola asked, rubbing her forehead as she watched the two walk away and out of the house.

-

"You've arrived at your destination." The automated voice rang through the large car as it approached a large black gate behind an elegant building.

The drive to the unknown destination was not as quiet as they thought it would be. When entering the car, all Nadia could do was to laugh as soon as Lewis entered the car so much so that a few tears of laughter came out. It was a sound that he appreciated to hear and he joined her in her laughter. They couldn't believe that they even went through that, mainly laughing at the fact they went into the house for lunch and left as a married couple.

It was quite the lengthy drive but it seemed much quicker as they spent the time speaking about what happened at lunch yet they never got to the topic of his job and also because they decided to play music to get rid of the negative mood they both had.

“I thought you were going to kidnap for a second. I still do.” Nadia joked as he playfully rolled his eyes at her. “Where are we even?” She looked out of the window to see the back of the large building, eventually spotting a small yet visible sign on the wall reading ‘Harrods VIP parking’.

Letting the smallest gasp escape her mouth, she gazed at Lewis once again who was typing on his phone and wondered what he did for a living for him to be able to decide to park his car here. The rumours from this department store were unbelievable so to see them bloom in real life felt surreal to Nadia.

Lewis definitely saw Nadia to be a good friend to him and could keep her around his circle and vice versa. It was a sign that a friendship was brewing between each other and they’re somewhat grateful for that although it happened so quickly.

“Seriously bruv, where are you taking me? I have to get home to watch catfish.” She asked, flicking her hair back and he laughed once more. “Bruv?” He said in between his giggles. “Okay my pookie wookie buddy bear, where are you taking me?” She said, fluttering her eyelashes at him which made him burst into so much more laughter.

“Since you want to know so badly, we’re going to Cartier to get our wedding rings.” He smiled a toothy grin, turning off the ignition of the car while looking at her stunned expression.

“…what?”

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @goldsainz

dividers by: @cafekitsune

faceclaim for nadia: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pictures from pinterest and ig!

[lonesome-sometimes]

wheels on the bus

I promise I don’t have a thing for matty being a married man this was just a very real experience for me minus most of it

suddenly a man climbs on and interrupts, giving a series of apologies to both the driver and the people he kept waiting. you would be annoyed if he wasn’t so hot, tight black jumper and unruly curls sitting on his head like a halo. suddenly, the woman from before is waving him down towards the back of the bus and your heart sinks.

that’s her fucking husband?

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: face fucking, sub matty, teasing, semi-public sex, cheating, age gap

minors do not interact!

If you knew that you would be stuck on a bus for as long as you were, you wouldn’t have even bothered travelling but the world seemed to hate you that day and was throwing every possible obstacle towards you.

luckily for you, the seat next to you had managed to stay empty for most of the trip which was always a blessing. you were pulling into the second stop of the journey when you quickly realised that was about to come to an end, the queue far too long with too little seats left.

you force yourself to seem as unapproachable as possible when you feel someone tap your shoulder, turning to see a dark haired woman smiling at you almost condescendingly. you pull one side of your headphones to the side so it sits behind your ear, still looking at her dumbfounded. you weren’t in the mood, your day had been long enough.

“Is it okay if my husband sits here? he’s coming now, he just is putting our bags away but I’m going to sit in front of this seat and I want to be able to sit near him. my husband won’t be a bother-“ every word went in one ear and out of the other, the word husband suddenly becoming the worst word in the entire dictionary and the shiny diamond on her finger painfully obvious. how charming.

you nod, turning your body and sliding your headphones back on for the simple pleasure of drowning out most of the noise of the other passengers, your music staying paused. the driver stands up, a tall man who seemed far too young and cool looking to be stuck driving some bus on a saturday. “I know this situation isn’t really ideal for anybody, but I promise to speed and get you all where you need to be. please just shout at me if you need anything, my name is george and-“ suddenly a man climbs on and interrupts, giving a series of apologies to both the driver and the people he kept waiting. you would be annoyed, feeling deserving of an apology to if he wasn’t so hot, tight black jumper and unruly curls sitting on his head like a halo. you turn your attention to the woman from before, waving him down towards the back of the bus and your heart sinks.

that’s her fucking husband?

his face lights up at the sight of her, making his way down towards where the empty seat is and sliding down next to you. he shoots you a quick, kind smile before turning his full attention to his wife to your dismay, leaning over the top of her seat and stroking her hair. the whole situation was just sad really, he was far too good for her but you can see why she was so obsessed with using the word husband beforehand.

you were in for the hardest two hours of your life.

you couldn’t even focus on your music, abandoning it all together and hour into the drive in favour of hearing his hushed voice instead. he was currently resting his chin on the top of her seat, eyes crinkling as he smiled at something she said. he pushed a hand through his hair, the sleeves of his jumper pushing up slightly to reveal some tattoos on his wrists causing your eyes to widen, becoming curious as to how many tattoos he had and where.

another hour of torture goes by, the man next to you seeming to be so sickly in love that it started to make you somewhat mad. he was fully leaning around her seat now, his face close to hers as they talked quietly. you decided to just try and ignore them alltogether, reopening spotify when you hear him speak.

“radiohead? great choice! I didn’t know they were still popular with the kids these days.” you turn to see him smiling at you, not even realising he had moved and being absolutely dumbfounded that he’s suddenly speaking to you. he laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck causing you to notice the crinkles by his eyes for the first time. “god, that makes me sound so old doesn’t it? sorry I wasn’t meaning to bother you-“

“no!” you suddenly exclaim, realising how crazy you sounded. you regain your composure, side eyeing his wife who was not in her seat. he must notice your curiosity because he speaks up again. “we’re stopping for a bathroom break, the kids on board must have been pissing the driver off, do you want me to move?” he attempts to stand but you grab his wrist, pulling him back down.

“I’m good, thank you for letting me know.” you try and sound as sweet as possible, smiling softly while rubbing the soft material of his jumper between your fingertips. “you’re not bothering me at all, you’re actually the first person I’ve spoke to all day.”

he looks down at your hand on his jumper and you swear you see a blush spread across his face, a stray curl falling forward as he does. you start feeling a little lightheaded, almost letting your thoughts get the better of you. you drop his jumper, moving to push the curl back away from his face but he moves too suddenly, shaking his head to organise his thoughts.

you turn to see his wife climbing back on the bus, that condescending smile from before returning as she sees you both. they start chatting again, forcing you to return back to your petty mood and making a show of it, crossing your arms and letting your music flow through your ears. you through two minutes of karma police before you physically cannot take it anymore, pulling your headphones off and turning to the couple next to you.

“I’m so sorry if I’m overstepping, but you guys are just so cute together. how long have you been married?” you smile too wide to be genuine, voice sickly sweet as your attention focuses solely on the man. his wife leans around her seat and looks at you like you had offended her, but takes the opportunity to obsess over the word husband once more.

“well my husband and I have actually been married for about three years, is that right matty? I think so.” she smiles at him, playing with his fingers awaiting his answer. you don’t really care what she has to say, the name matty bouncing around your brain and how it would sound coming off of your tongue. he continues to look at you, completely taken back by your boldness before clearing his throat.

“yeah we erm, we have been married a while now. we actually just got back from our two year anniversary vacation, you should know that darling.” he speaks to her, almost seeming sad that she had forgotten. she just laughs, announcing that milestones mean nothing so long as she has him. you could almost feel your eyes rolling back into your head and not in the way you were imagining.

he smiles awkwardly at you. they went back to talking between themselves, your brain racing with ideas and images. you think for a little while, coming up with a truly awful plan. you had found something you wanted and with the day you were having you deserved some excitement.

you wait a few minutes, waiting for the right moment before beginning. “I’m sorry, I just need to grab my charger in my bag. I’ll just-“ you stand up, causing matty and his wife to stop talking and look up at you as you begin to climb over his legs. you silently thank the driver for suddenly going over a bump in the road, causing you to trip and fall directly into his lap.

his hands fly up out of instinct, grabbing your waist and holding you there for a moment. you can feel the bulge in his pants pressing up against you, moving so your hips grind down on him as you stand up again. “god, matty! I am so sorry! I lost my balance, I’ll just grab my charger and I’ll stop being a bother, again I’m so sorry to interrupt.” you lie through your teeth, reaching up to grab your charger out of your bag in the overhead compartment while making sure your tshirt rides up directly in front of his face, exposing your lower stomach and a strip of your lace underwear that was hidden beneath your pants. you pretend to look for your charger for a good few minutes, giving him a show as you did.

you eventually find what you were looking for, making eye contact with him as you climb back over into your seat. you bite your lip as you look down at his crotch, the bulge more prominent than before. you feel powerful, causing a married man to fold at practically nothing.

you get comfortable again, scrolling through instagram when he suddenly speaks for the first time in the last twenty minutes. “god, when did it get so fucking hot in here?” he laughs sheepishly again, pulling his jumper over his head and shoving it in his lap to cover up his problem.

granting you your wish, you could finally see the wrist tattoos from before as well as the many others. his arms were toned, covered in artwork that looked so beautiful and hot at the same time. his curls had become messy through his hands constantly playing with it and the jumper being pulled over.

the bus keeps driving for another ten minutes, the longest ten minutes of both yours and his life, before pulling in at another service station. george stands up, announcing that the bus would be here for thirty minutes and that if you weren’t back in time he would drive off and leave you, causing the kids at the front who must be driving him mad to giggle and pull faces.

matty suddenly stands up, announcing to his wife that he was running to the bathroom and to grab them both a snack, urging her to stay there. perfect.

you let him get a five minute head start before standing up, not even acknowledging the woman as you make your way off the bus and towards the bathrooms where you see matty push the door open. you rush after him, causing the the door to fly open. you both stand in the middle of the service station bathroom, the tension thick and heavy in the air.

he swallows, rubbing his arm and avoiding your eyes as he speaks up first. “can…can I help you?” he asks, his voice coming out strained and broken which only causes you to giggle. you move further into the room, crowding him up against the tiled wall.

“I’m not sure matty, can I help you at all?” you smirk, lips so close to his own as you speak you could feel the shaky breaths on your face. he swallows again, eyes avoiding yours as he shakes his head.

“I’m married, I shouldn’t be…” he trails off as you push your body up against his, cocking your head to the side as you lick your lips and grab the shape of his cock through his pants. he lets out a breath, relaxing against the wall as you start stroking him through the fabric softly. interesting.

“I’m sorry, you were saying?” you ask innocently, knowing what you were doing by now, the effect you were having on him. he closes his eyes, letting his head hit the tile with a thud before he looks down at you through his lashes. up close, he’s so much prettier than you had realised. you wanted to ruin him and have him ruin you at the same time.

“please.” he breathes out, taking you by surprise as he pushes his hips up until your hand and parts his lips. “please just touch me.” he begs, and how could you say no to that?

you move your head and steal his lips in a soft kiss, his lips parting instantly and letting you control the situation. this isn’t what you were picturing when he first stepped onto the bus, but after the mood you had been in you can’t say you’re unsatisfied with the turn of events. you move to unzip his trousers, shoving them down his legs and pulling his cock out of his underwear.

fucking hell. you weren’t expecting that.

he breaths are heavy, eyes wide as he waits patiently for you to do something. you think for a moment, deciding what you want to do with the little time you had. you started mouthing at his jaw being careful not to leave any marks to save him some face, his neck and down his torso until you’re forced to get on your knees so that you’re face to face with his leaking cock.

he leans his head back against the wall again, his hands finding refuge in your hair as he lets out a choked moan at the sight of you on your knees for him. If only you had more time, you’d spend hours torturing him, his sweet breathy moans quickly becoming your favourite sound.

that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun right now.

“I thought you were married, hm? your poor little wife, sitting on that bus completely unaware that her husband of two years is letting a young, innocent girl get him off. don’t you feel bad?” you tease, lips ghosting the tip of his cock as you speak. he quickly shakes his head, hands moving from your hair to form fists at his sides.

“she…she doesn’t do this for me. we haven’t even…just please?” he begs, his revelation music to your ears. “you don’t know how long it’s been since I…she won’t have sex with me, something to do with-“ he moans as you wrap your lips around his cock, letting the weight of it sit on your tongue as you savour the taste.

you slap his thigh lightly, a silent order for him to keep speaking as you start to suck his cock slowly. “oh fuck, something to do with staying pure…an act of celibacy or some bullshit but I really do love her, I promise.” he continues, emphasising the really with a thrust of his hips, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat, fluttering around him as he whines.

you pull off his length with a pop, lipgloss smeared around the tip of it as you work him with your hand. “that’s such a shame, you’re far too pretty for that. you sound so sweet. If only you were mine, I’d do so much to you.” you lick away precum that had gathered at his tip again, kissing it softly and pulling back again. “hm, how about I let you fuck my throat, since you’ve been such a good boy for me? you deserve to use me, no need to be shy.” you wink, moving your arms behind your back and letting your lips fall open and ready.

he stares at you, completely taken back by what you just offered. he lets himself think for a moment, about the morality of the situation, before shaking his head and grabbing his cock again and shoving it past your lips. clearly deciding that there was no time for questioning his moral compass as he moans loudly, feeling more free as he begins to fuck your throat. he picks up his pace, holding your hair as he whispers sweet nothings like you’re so good for me and so much better than she could ever be, even going as far as to wipe away the tears that had formed around your eyes and saying please don’t cry, you’re too pretty baby, I’m sorry

his hips begin to stutter, a sign that he’s almost there. “please, please let me cum down your throat, I need to cum please let me-” he begs through broken sobs, waiting for a nod of your head before he’s spilling down your throat, his groans echoing around the empty bathroom.

you pull off his cock, his body slumped against the wall as you show him your white covered tongue, swallowing his cum only causing him to moan again. he was such a boy, and you couldn’t really blame him considering what he had just told you. you decide to be nice, tucking him back into his underwear and pulling his pants back up his legs, going as far as to button them back up for him and placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I genuinely don’t think I can move away from this wall.” he admits, blush creeping up his cheeks again as he brings his thumb up to wipe the smeared lipgloss from your face. “thank you for that, and I erm…fuck, I’m sorry? I feel bad that I didn’t-” he says, gesturing towards you.

you shake your head and smile, giggling softly. “don’t worry about me, it seems like you have enough to deal with.”

“you could say that.” he laughs back, checking the time on his watch and letting out a sigh of relief to see that you still had five minutes before you really needed to be back, knowing his kind, thoughtful wife would hold the bus up if needs be. “we still have five minutes, if you really want me to do anything?”

you shake your head again, pulling his hand up into yours and playing with his fingers the same way his wife had done on the bus not long ago, sliding his wedding ring off and on. “I think I’d rather learn more about you? If that’s okay?”

he smiles down at you again and nods, eyes crinkling as he says “well I never actually got to talk to you about radiohead…”

[lemoncrushh]

Tattooed Heart - Part VI

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

STORY PAGE

“Hey, gorgeous! How are you? I’ve been so worried about you!” John exclaimed enthusiastically into the phone.

“I’m pretty good, actually. How are things at Zelda’s?” While you didn’t necessarily want to know the answer, you’d always considered John a friend and knew he had your back. Which was why you decided to give him a call.

“Oh girl, things have changed dramatically since you left!”

“Really?”

“Yes! We got a new manager. His name is Rafael, but we’re allowed to call him Rafi. He’s a dish and a half, let me tell you! Not like that last asshole.”

You chuckled. “Good, I’m glad for you.”

“Yeah, sucks for you though! If only you could have stayed. Hey, want me to put a good in for you with Rafi?”

“Um…no, that’s okay, John. I’m kind of happy where I am.”

“Seriously? Where’s that?”

You told your friend about working at the cafe. Then proceeded to tell him how Harry got you the job.

“To make a long story short,” you said, trying to do just that, “he’s not the jerk he appeared to be. And…well…now we’re dating.”

“Hold up! Stop right there. Rewind! I need to hear everything, Y/N! EVERYTHING!”

You laughed at the way John enunciated every syllable. And you’d expected as much. For the next hour, you went into every detail with him like he requested (at least as much as you were willing to divulge), and by the time you finished, it was time to get ready for your date with Harry.

“Oh my God, girl, that’s so crazy!” squealed John. “But I’m happy for you. If you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“Good. Just don’t forget about me, okay? Pop in some time, maybe with Handsome.”

“I will,” you promised.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a stylish top, you brushed your hair and touched up your makeup. You were meeting Harry at his place, where he was making you dinner again, and then you were going to a movie. It seemed to be the first Saturday you were both off since you’d met. And you were looking forward to having a normal, mundane date night.

The last couple weeks had been both hectic and amazing. Since that evening at the gallery, Harry had been extremely busy finishing up his moon series paintings. Donovan McNulty had still been showing interest in Harry’s art, and specifically voiced that he wanted to know the minute his newest pieces would be available. And you’d been picking up extra shifts at the diner to make a little extra money. But any moment you were both free had been spent together. You took turns, rotating your visits at each others’ apartments. You enjoyed leaning against his kitchen counter while you watched him cook, and Harry enjoyed teasing Shae when she was around, and nibbling on the soft spot behind your ear as you watched TV when she wasn’t there - and sometimes when she was.

Your feelings for him were growing daily, and while you told yourself it was still too soon to have such feelings, you used your free time away from him to write them down. You expressed every emotion from the way your heart skipped when you’d see him sitting in his usual chair at the cafe, to the way your body ached for him as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling. You even included the way it had felt when you’d seen Nicolette at the cafe and at the gallery, even though Harry assured you tenfold that he had broken off all contact with her. You didn’t want to be jealous of his ex. You knew deep down that it would not bode well if you were going to take this relationship to the next level. And you definitely wanted to.

Harry greeted you with a smile as he opened the door, a glass of wine already in his hand waiting for you. When you stepped inside, you gave him a quick kiss before accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“Mmm, something smells yummy!,” you commented, turning for the kitchen.

“Chicken Piccata with roasted radicchio and sweet potatoes,” Harry announced proudly as he followed you. “It’s almost ready.”

“Chef Styles, when are you opening your own restaurant? This is way too impressive for just me.”

“You’re the only one I care to impress,” he said, pushing your hair from your neck to softly brush his lips across your tender flesh.

You reached behind you for his hands, bringing his arms around your waist. He hummed against your skin as he gave you a squeeze. The timer on the oven sounded then with a friendly chime, and Harry hesitantly released you in order to remove its contents. Watching him serve up the meal, you joined him at the table with your wine.

“I have some news,” he announced after you’d taken your first bite and raved about its deliciousness.

“Oh? What is it?” you asked enthusiastically.

“I’m having another gallery showing. For the moon series.” Harry stabbed his fork into his chicken before lifting his eyes to you.

“Are you kidding? That was quick!”

“Well, yeah,” he grinned. “I brought them yesterday for Sherrod to see. Apparently he phoned McNulty, gave him some rubbish about how brilliant they are, and he’s flying down Thursday to see for himself.”

Quickly dismissing the fact that he’d degraded his own art, because you knew he didn’t really think it was rubbish, you focused on the positive.

“Oh my God, Harry! That’s wonderful! I’m really proud of you.”

“I know, babe. And I appreciate all the support you’ve given me. You'll never know how much.”

“I have an idea,” you jested. “You spoil me with this delicious food.”

“That’s just because I can,” he winked. “And because I want to. It’s not a payment.”

“Good to know,” you said before popping a bite of sweet potato in your mouth.

“I would like your help with something, though.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you help spread the word about the exhibit?” Harry requested. “Maybe invite some friends? The more the better. The cocktail party was nice, but I’d like it to be a massive event.”

“Ooh, yes! I’d love to!”

Rising from your chair, you reached over the table to plant a kiss on Harry’s lips, to which he happily accepted.

“When would you like to get your tattoo?” Harry asked as you laid twisted in the sheets, his bare thigh crossed over yours, his fingertips tracing nonexistent lines down your arm.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. If it was possible, he appeared even more beautiful than ever, his eyelids heavy, his pillowy lips swollen, his scruffy jaw threatening to produce more facial hair now that the morning was nigh. The evening of lovemaking had been blissful, Harry having brought you to orgasm not once, not twice…but three times. And while you worried you’d never walk again, the man beside you looked completely fucked.

You couldn’t help but be elated by the knowledge that you’d made that happen.

“I’m not sure yet,” you whispered, reaching for his stubbly chin. “Soon, I guess.”

You felt Harry breathe out of his nose, and while he tried to hide it, you could detect the frown on his lips.

“Do you not want it?” he inquired after a beat.

“I…no, I do,” you nodded.

“‘Cause you don’t have to get it,” Harry added. “The one I designed, or any other one. If you don’t want a tattoo, it’s fine. I’ll understand.”

“No, I want one.”

Harry continued to draw his finger down your arm. You could tell the conversation wasn’t over, but you were unsure what else to say. So you let Harry gather his thoughts instead. Finally he sighed, his gaze returning to your face.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“What for?” you asked.

“If I made you uncomfortable. It just dawned on me that I might have been a bit presumptuous with the tattoo. I know they can be very personal, and I…I should have just let you pick what you want.”

Blinking, you rolled over onto your side to face him. “Harry, no. That’s not it at all. I love the one you designed. I told you I loved that painting.”

“Then what is it?” Harry lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face, twisting the end of the strands between his fingers. “Any time I bring it up, you kind of hesitate or change the subject.”

“I…I didn’t realize,” you looked down at his chest. “I apologize.”

“Baby, look at me,” he insisted, urging your chin up. “Talk to me. Are you af-”

You stopped him mid-sentence with your finger on his lips. As you shook your head, Harry chuckled. Then tugging on your wrist, he released your hand from his mouth.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he remarked.

“Just don’t use that word.”

“Alright,” he softened his expression, returning his fingers to your hair. “Am I moving too fast for you? Is that it?”

You gulped and sucked in your lips. Then you let out a nervous chuckle of your own. “It seems ridiculous to admit that after what we just did.”

“Not really,” Harry shook his head. “Sex can be separate from feelings. Although…I’m going to confess right now…for me…it’s not. Not with you.”

“Harry…” you breathed.

“Babe…” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I reckon I’ve conveyed my feelings for you already…at least a little bit. But if you need me to back off…I will.”

You stared at him, this gorgeous man. You couldn’t believe in just a few weeks you’d gone from hating him to…whatever this was.

“No,” you argued. “I don’t want you to.”

“No?”

“No, because…I’m feeling…things too.”

Harry’s voluptuous mouth curved into a sexy grin. You felt his hand on your back, his fingers dancing up your flesh.

“I’m just…a little hesitant, I guess,” you added, “about getting the tattoo…because it’s such an intimate thing to do, you know? To get ink on my skin of something you gave me, art you designed for me. And it’s…forever.”

Harry blinked slowly with a nod. “I completely understand, love. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just me. Like you said, it’s personal. And I would feel horrible if something happened between us, and-”

“Shh, baby…” Harry interrupted you this time. “It’s okay. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

You gave him a gentle smile before he pulled you into a deep kiss. Your eyelids heavy, and sleep threatening to take over, you tugged on the sheets. Getting the hint, Harry grinned, situating the covers over you before reaching for the lamp.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

You hummed in agreement as he held you against his warm body, and before you could even think any more about tattoos, you were sound asleep in his arms.

The rest of Sunday and most of Monday was spent making phone calls. You promised Harry a grand party, and you were determined to deliver. After telling Shae your plan, she was more than happy to come through by offering to tell her coworkers as well as some of your mutual friends. You called John to let him know as well, and he said he was already going to ask for the night off, and maybe even bring Rafi with him…if he was available, as he put it. You also called the gallery Monday morning, unbeknownst to Harry, to speak with Sherrod yourself. He told you how excited he was for Harry’s new exhibit, which put your mind at ease a bit.

“I really want this to be special for him,” you explained. “Is there anything I can do to help? To get the word out? More advertising? Do I need to hire a caterer or something?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, darling,” assured Sherrod. “I’m already having my secretary making contacts as we speak. And I personally phoned my caterer on Friday.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you said. “The more people we can get to come, the better. There’s just one thing…”

“Don’t worry about that either, my pet. You have my word Miss Waters will not get an invite.”

“Ohh. For some reason I thought…” you chuckled nervously. “I don’t know how art galleries work, forgive me.”

Sherrod laughed heartily through the phone, catching you off guard. “Nothing to forgive, darling. Harry and I have already spoken about this as well.”

You breathed through your nose. Of course they had.

“Thank you, Sherrod. I appreciate everything.”

“It’s going to be a splendid night, you can be sure!”

Hanging up, you felt a heavy weight lift off your chest. It was quickly replaced with a glittery excitement. You couldn’t wait.

When you arrived for your mid-day shift at the cafe, you made a beeline for Jill who was making a cold brew for a customer. The look on her face when you told her the news about Harry’s exhibit was priceless.

“Of course I’ll be there!” she squealed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bring some friends too, okay? I want to show him all the support we can give.”

That night, you sat in front of the TV writing in your journal. You soon found yourself mindlessly doodling in the corners of the page. Harry was at work, and you didn’t want to bother him. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He truly had been the only thing on your mind all day.

“Pppfff, more like for the last month,” you admitted out loud.

Tossing your notebook to the side, you leaned back on the couch and ran your fingers through your hair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing?”

Getting up from the sofa, you slipped on your shoes, not bothering to change out of your lounge-at-home outfit - a dark green tunic and black leggings. The only effort you made was to brush your teeth and touch up your lip gloss before heading out the door.

The neon sign in the window seemed to glow brighter than you remembered, an enticing greeting to lure you in. Not that you hadn’t already planned to go inside.

Swinging the door open, you noticed an empty waiting area and counter. Smooth, instrumental jazz played through the speakers as you peeked your head through the doorway to scan the tattoo stations, but still saw no one. You were just about to walk through the shop to Harry’s office when you saw Kyle emerge.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, happy that he knew. Surely he didn’t remember you from the last time he’d seen you in the shop, but perhaps Harry had told him about you and he put two and two together. The idea made you blush a little.

“Harry’s in the back. I’ll go get him for you.”

Before you could retort, Kyle disappeared through the doorway from which he’d just appeared. And within seconds, your handsome, cheery boyfriend replaced him.

“Hi, babe!” he beamed. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, shyly. “Came to get my tattoo.”

His eyes widening, Harry stepped closer to you. “Really? Are you sure?”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Positive.”

His dimples on full display, Harry pulled you into an embrace. You could feel his heart beating in his chest as he whispered in your ear. “I’m so happy.”

Then stepping back, Harry gestured toward his station. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get everything ready and tell Kyle he can go home.”

“Oh!” you mouthed, surprised. Harry disappeared into the back room again before you could argue.

Situating yourself in Harry’s chair, you gazed at the art on display around his station as well as photos of various clients’ tats. While a few pieces looked to be fairly common, most of them were exquisite, no doubt one-of-a-kind works of art. You were staring at a large dragon piece on someone’s back when you heard a voice behind you.

“Bye, Y/N,” Kyle called. “Have a nice night.”

“Oh, thanks. Same to you,” you waved just as Harry walked up.

“You didn’t have to make him leave,” you said under your breath. “You’re not closed yet, are you?”

“I am now,” Harry wiggled his brows before walking to the front door and locking it, turning the OPEN sign to the CLOSED side.

With pursed lips, you tried to hold back a smirk as Harry returned, his own smirk tugging on his mouth.

“Slow night?” you inquired when he sat down on his stool.

“You would not believe. That’s why we were in my office. Kyle helps me with my website.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you watched Harry get his tray ready just like he had the day you’d brought Shae. That already felt like a lifetime ago.

“You always surprise me with your music choices,” you commented as you listened to the soft jazz.

Harry chuckled with a nod. “This is my focus, slash wind-down music. Since it was slow, I switched it from grunge whilst we worked on the website.”

“I like it,” you grinned.

Harry gazed up at you from under his lashes before his eyes roamed down your body. You felt a tingle as his gaze made its way back up to your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Was just recalling the last time you were sat in this chair.”

“Oh my God, Harry,” you blushed. “Please tell me you sanitized it!”

His eyes squinting as he giggled, Harry scooted closer to you. “You’re too much, babe.”

“Why, because I like cleanliness?”

“No, because that’s your first thought. It certainly wasn’t mine.”

You stared into his jade eyes that were now inches from your face, the irises appearing to have a dark line around them.

“That was…um, some kind of night,” you murmured softly.

“Indeed, it was.” Harry’s hand landed just above your knee then before he slid it slowly up your thigh.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”

Harry puffed out a chuckle. “No. Don’t reckon I had to try then either.”

Dragging your tongue across your teeth, you focused on his mouth and the way his hand felt on your leg. “Fair enough. What do you remember most about that night?”

“How sweet your pussy tasted on my tongue,” he quickly replied, as if he’d had his answer ready before you’d even asked the question. “And how you tugged on my hair and your thighs trembled as you called my name.”

“Harry…”

“Oh, it was much louder than that.”

You blushed again, but this time you didn’t bother hiding it. Leaning towards you, Harry placed a soft kiss on your lips. Followed by a second, and a third. By the fourth, your fingers were in his hair, his tongue in your mouth. You reveled in the sensation, urging him with your own. When a gentle moan escaped your chest, Harry’s hand that had been on your thigh made its way between your legs. You began to grind against him in your seat, knowing your leggings and panties were already soaked through. His other hand traveled underneath your t-shirt, and when his fingers met your bare skin, you gasped.

“Are you…,” you gulped, “planning to eat me out again on this chair?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Oh.”

“I have other things in mind,” he added, echoing the exact words he’d said to you that night before taking you home.

“Oh…”

Harry sat back on his stool and raised a brow. “I thought you wanted a tattoo, love.”

“Harry Styles! Are you teasing me?” you exclaimed.

Giggling with glee, you noticed his eyes dancing. “Maybe.”

“Rude!” you frowned, tugging your shirt down. Your pussy still throbbing from his hand, you pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault. Seeing you in this chair…it turned me on, and I got carried away. I do want to play. But I think we should get started on this tattoo, don’t you? It’s gonna take a bit.”

You nodded with a sigh. “Okay.”

Harry gave you a peck on the nose and one on the lips. “Now, did you decide where you want it? The ink, I mean,” he smirked.

“So, I had considered getting it on my side, like down my hip. There’s plenty of room to make it big. But then I changed my mind.”

“Too much?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s gonna see it there. Except you. And while the idea is sexy, I’d rather have the art my boyfriend designed to be in a spot everyone could see.”

“Baby…” Harry breathed, his hand over his heart.

“I know, I’ve been hesitant about this,” you explained. “About us. But I have no clue why. We’ve spent all this time together. You’ve shown me time again that you’re interested in more than just…a fling. Every time I’m with you, I feel butterflies and moonbeams and…all the cheesy things.” You let out a nervous sigh as you looked down at your hands, then back up to his gorgeous face. “The truth is…I’m crazy about you, Harry.”

“Sweetheart,” he cried, pulling you into another kiss. Then leaning his forehead against yours he murmured, “You make me so happy.”

“Good,” you grinned, your right hand on his cheek as you held out your left. “That’s why I think we should put it right here, below my elbow, down the inside of my arm.”

“I think that would be lovely,” he agreed, misty-eyed. Then he kissed the inside of your wrist before rising from his stool. “Let me go get the stencil, and I’ll be right back.”

When he stepped away, you suddenly felt butterflies in your tummy, and not just from the notion of getting a tattoo. You’d almost told him more than you’d planned. The truth was, you weren’t just crazy about him. You were falling for him. Hard. Perhaps you had been falling bit by bit every day. And you were finally willing to admit it to yourself. But you weren’t quite sure yet if you were ready to say it to him. It still felt too soon. But you loved the look on his face when you’d revealed what you had. His delight gave you hope that perhaps he felt the same.

Harry returned with a big smile on his face. Placing the stencil next to him, he pulled on his gloves. Then reaching for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, he eyed you.

“Still wanna do this?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you beamed.

Taking your arm, he gently rubbed the soaked cotton pad down your arm, from the elbow to your wrist. Then he took a new disposable razor and gently shaved the area, just like you’d seen him do on Shae, back when you still hated him. The idea brought a sour taste to your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah, sorry. Was just…thinking.”

“About?” Harry raised a brow.

“How far we’ve come in just a short time.”

Harry’s face softened. “I think about that a lot.”

“You do?”

“I thank my lucky stars every fucking day that you forgave me. That you were able to see the real me and change your mind. I only wish…”

“What?” you asked.

His gaze seemed to burn into you as he looked deep into your eyes. “I wish we had met some other way. Like some random day at the cafe, or maybe here when you’d come with Shae. Or maybe even at Zelda’s on a night I was alone. Some other way that you could have met the real me instead of that prick I pretended to be.”

You sat in silence as you absorbed Harry’s words and watched him place the thermal paper on your arm with the stencil. When he peeled it off was when you spoke.

“What would you have said?”

“When?”

“If we had met in a different situation. What would you have said to me?”

“In which scenario?” he smirked.

“Let’s go with the first one. Obviously I wouldn’t be working at the cafe. But let’s say I came in one day that you were sitting there working on your iPad.”

Harry chuckled loudly, catching you off guard. “Well, I can’t really say for sure, can I? There are other factors involved.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “But you said you’ve thought about it. What happens in your…wish?”

You swore you caught a tiny bit of color in his cheeks as Harry pulled his tray closer to him. “We have to get serious now, babe. I’m about to stick a needle in your arm.”

You puffed out a breath in humor, then sat up straight in your chair. “Fine. Mark me.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he chuckled at your joke. Then he made a few adjustments to his tattoo gun before getting to work. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. You watched as Harry traced the stencil, starting with the dripping moon at the top. After every stroke, he would wipe your skin. He seemed so focused, so gentle. You stared at his face for a little while, and every time he’d bite his lower lip, it sent your heart all aflutter. When he finished the outline, he looked up at you.

“Still doing okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.

He gave you a smile before returning his focus to your arm. You were both quiet for a moment until he spoke again.

“I probably would have stared at you for a bit.”

“Huh?”

“At the cafe. If you had been sat near me at a table by yourself. I would have kept sneaking glances at you, but making sure you didn’t notice.”

“Well then, how am I supposed-”

“At first,” he interrupted. “Then I would have wanted you to notice. When we finally made eye contact, I’d have smiled at you.”

Lifting his head, Harry gave you just the smile he was referring to. And your insides ignited.

“I would say that’s very cheesy and cliche, but it’s not. I like it.”

“So what would you have done if I’d come over to your table and asked you your name?”

“I would have told you, and hoped to God you’d ask me for my number too.”

“Alright then,” Harry snickered. “That’s one scenario. But it didn’t happen.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” you said. “Something else happened instead. And we’re here anyway.”

“Yes, we are.”

You watched Harry continue on the tattoo, the moon starting to look realistic with the shading. As always you were in awe of him and his talent. Just like when you would watch him work at the cafe, you found yourself completely mesmerized. It was utterly sexy to you, from the way he focused on his project at hand, to the curls that framed his face and neck, and even down to the way his own tattooed arms flexed as he worked. As you studied him you let out a deep breath, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties again.

“Still okay?” Harry suddenly asked with a tiny smirk, as if he’d noticed.

“I’m wonderful,” you answered dreamily.

“You need to move your elbow a little?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you nodded as Harry sat back to let you. Your arm had been in one position for a while, and you were starting to feel the effects.

“Okay, I’m good,” you commented as you reached your arm out again. “Tell me about your next project. What are you working on?”

“Just a second,” Harry muttered. As he scooted closer again, you wondered what he was doing until he beckoned you with his gloved hand. “Kiss me.”

You grinned widely before you happily obliged, giving him a few more kisses than he’d asked for just for good measure.

“Mmm, thanks babe. It’s hard to be around you for this long without touching your lips.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re the sweetest.”

With a wink, Harry returned to his task, this time moving onto the shading of the heart. “I actually haven’t started anything new yet,” he replied to your previous inquiry. “With the moon series now at the gallery, I’ve kind of been trying to finish up some older pieces.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had anything that was incomplete.”

“Yeah. You saw the citiscape one, right?”

“Yes, that was gorgeous! That wasn’t finished?”

“Not yet. I keep feeling like there’s something missing, but…I dunno. I’m also not sure if I want it to be a series or a stand alone piece.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I know it’ll be amazing. As always,” you offered emphatically.

“Thanks, babe. This is why…” he left his thought unfinished as his tattoo gun rounded the edges of the heart.

“Why what?”

Harry lifted his head, giving you an easy grin. “Why you’re a wonderful lady.”

You watched Harry finish the heart on the tat while you thought your own heart could burst. You thought he was going to say it for a second, but you understood why he hadn’t. It seemed like such a mundane moment to express those three words.

Changing the subject, Harry chatted with you lightly about the upcoming exhibit, about the cafe, about food. You told him about your pal John, and how he was planning to come as well as Jill and Shae.

“Thanks again for doing this for me, babe,” he grinned. “I truly appreciate you.”

“Of course, Harry. I honestly think I’d do just about anything for you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Harry gave you a sexy look before quickly looking back down at your arm. “I think we’re done, babe.”

“Oh. Oh!” You tore your eyes from his to gaze down at your new tattoo. It was extraordinary to say the least.

“It’s…so beautiful, Harry,” you choked. “I love it!”

“It’s yours,” he commented. “And only yours.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears, making your vision too blurry to even see it. But you knew he was right. You had a one-of-a-kind Harry Styles work of art on your arm. And you couldn’t be more proud.

“C’mere, you can look in the mirror,” Harry beckoned, gesturing to the mirror behind him on the wall.

Standing in front of it, you wiped your eyes with your fingers until Harry handed you a tissue.

“Don’t cry, love,” he cooed. “You’ll make me think you made a mistake.”

“Of course not, silly man.” You stretched your arm down to look at the full length of the ink on your skin. “No mistakes here.”

“I’m glad,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chest on your shoulder as you took in the image of you both in the mirror. Grabbing his phone, Harry then took a couple of quick photos of your arm. “Let’s go ahead and put a covering on that so it won’t get infected.”

“Oh, how long do I have to do that? I wanna be able to show it off this weekend.”

Harry smirked at your pout. “Just a few days. You should be okay by then.”

Once again, you sat in his chair while he applied the dressing and bandage. Then he explained to you the aftercare, which made you giddy. You knew it was his job, but you enjoyed seeing him being professional.

“I’ll give you some information to take home with you as well,” he added as he removed his gloves, “but right now, I really need to touch you.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could make a syllable, Harry slid his hands under your jaw and pulled you into a warm kiss. He soon deepened it, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands traveled around your neck to your hair. When he finally released you enough to take a breath, you gasped.

“Wow.”

“Uh huh,” he voiced so low that you barely heard it. Then he licked his lips before sliding his hand up your thigh like before. “Exactly.”

You stared at Harry, his eyes darkening as he fingers began to tease you between your legs.

“So, what…mmm,” you swallowed at the sensation, “what other things did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you really wanna know?” he quirked a brow.

“Mmhmm. Yes, please.”

“Hmm, you ask so politely. But I might wanna keep teasing you like this. Make your legs tremble until you can’t stand it anymore. Until you’re begging for me to make you come.”

“Mmm,” you moaned again as he applied more pressure with his thumb, his hand cupping you, still over your clothes. “I don’t think I would be opposed to that.”

“No? You like being teased?”

“I like the way you tease,” you replied, breathy.

A low chuckle rose from his throat, and you felt the vibration as his face was just inches from yours. Then he surprised you by rising from his chair, his hand leaving your throbbing core to tug on the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Off, sweetheart,” he demanded.

You lifted your arms for him to remove your top, careful of your freshly tattooed area. You nearly came unglued at the sight of him biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I don’t have on fancy undies,” you said, looking down at your cotton bralette.

“Are you kidding?” he snorted before he helped you remove that garment as well, his hands quickly palming your bare breasts.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of his calloused thumbs skimming across your perky buds. He was so light and gentle with his touch, that you almost pouted, but you knew this was his intention. To drive you crazy.

He kissed you again, his hands still on you until he backed away suddenly. You opened your eyes to see him removing his own shirt, his tattooed torso on display. Your mouth watered instantly, an automatic reaction now.

You and Harry had good sex. There was no denying it. Not that you liked to compare, but Harry was the best in bed. He already knew what you liked, what buttons to press and which ones not to (not that there were many). But the best thing about the sexual part of your relationship was that it was never boring. Even when it was just quick fucking, it was amazing. Even when it was sweet, sleepy sex, you were left satisfied.

So Harry implying - albeit obviously - that he wanted to fuck you on that tattoo chair was no surprise. But the thrill was still as strong as ever. Everything he did excited you. Jesus, just looking at him sent a bolt of electricity down to your cunt, making you squeeze your muscles together.

Letting out a breath, you reached for his belt, pulling it from the loop and releasing it. He gave you another smirk as you tugged on his jeans with your non-tattooed arm, frustrated when the button wouldn’t come loose.

“Let me help, baby,” he growled, keeping your hand in position as he covered it with his own hand and helped you pull. The button popped open, the zipper separating along with it as your tug was determined. Then Harry assisted you further, his hand guiding yours down the front of his pants.

“As if you had to help me with that,” you scoffed with a grin.

“Maybe I wanted some help,” Harry eyed you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary either, big boy.”

His sexy low chuckle vibrated through your hand while you found you were a hundred percent correct. Standing from the chair, you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, the pink, bulbous head of his hard cock greeting you.

“Mmm,” you sounded. “Maybe I could help a little.”

You released his erection for just a moment to run your hands down his chest, your fingernails raking over his pecs and the light dusting of chest hair around his nipples. But it didn’t take long for Harry to reach for your tits again, squeezing them in his hands.

“Wait…I thought I was supposed to be teasing you,” he groaned.

“So you don’t want your cock in my mouth?” you teased back.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, babe, I don’t know anymore. You’re so hot. I’m so turned on.”

“I can see that,” you grinned, wrapping your palm around his cock again. Before he could protest, you fell to your knees.

“Babe…” you heard as you barely licked the tip.

“Just let me, Harry. Please? I’m begging,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, batting your lashes.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Harry gave you permission with a nod and heavy eyelids. You took your time, wetting the head first, then slowly dragging your tongue underneath his length, from the base to the tip. Then licking your lips, you wrapped them around his hard cock, giving a generous amount of suction.

You heard his heavy breathing get louder and faster as you steadied yourself with your other hand on his hip. His own hands were everywhere at first, starting in your hair, then trying to paw at your breasts, then finally settling back on your head, gently urging and guiding you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this.”

You’d never considered yourself a pro at giving head. You couldn’t even take all of him, for fear of choking. But he didn’t seem to mind. Your mouth and tongue along with your hand seemed to do the trick. After a few more swirls of your tongue, you allowed your other hand to reach underneath, grabbing his balls. He moaned loudly, another expletive rising from his chest.

“Baby. Baby, baby, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Popping off of him, you smiled up at him, saliva dripping from your chin. You enjoyed pleasuring him, but you were excited to move on to phase two. With another low groan, Harry ran his thumb across your chin, guiding you back up to your feet.

“Y/N. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Aw, you mean I don’t have to beg?”

Harry didn’t bother replying with words. Instead, he pulled down your leggings with fervor, your panties clinging to them so they slipped down together, pooling around your ankles just like Harry’s jeans.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he patted your hip while wiggling his brows.

More electricity surging through you, you happily did as you were told, bending over the tattoo chair. You felt Harry run his hands down your ass before grabbing your hip and situating himself at your entrance. He slid in slowly at first, like he always did in order to get adjusted. But as soon as he let out a gasp that echoed your own, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he started to move faster.

Harder. His fingers dug into your flesh as he pounded into you. You bit your lip at first, then thought it silly since you were alone. As you began to moan, so did Harry. The sounds intertwined with the sexy, slow jazz were intoxicating. And when Harry bent over to grab your hair and talk in your ear, you thought you might come.

“Pussy’s so good, baby. Been thinking about it all day. Always so wet for me.”

“Mmmm,” was all you could manage.

“You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes!”

“You like my hard cock pounding into you, my balls slamming against your wet pussy?”

“God, yes!”

“Yeah. It’s mine, innit? Your gorgeous cunt is all mine.”

“Mmhm.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s all yours, Harry. I’m all yours.”

Moaning in your ear, Harry slowed down. You wondered for a moment what was happening as you knew he hadn’t come yet. Then you felt a chill on your back as he stood up, his hands at your hips.

“Let’s get these off the rest of the way,” he said with heavy breaths, indicating your pants.

Blinking, you wiped your eyes and toed off your shoes, stepping out of the leggings as you watched Harry do the same with his jeans.

“Sorry, babe, for the interlude,” his voice cracked. “I wanna try something else.”

“Okay.”

You watched as he readjusted the chair to lay flat. Then he laid down on it.

“C’mere, babe,” he beckoned. “Climb on top of me.”

You shifted your eyes nervously. “Are you sure we won’t break it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he smirked.

Sucking in your lips, you climbed on with Harry’s assistance. You giggled at the awkwardness of it all as you straddled him.

“Just a second, honey,” he said when you were about to aim his cock. “Let me look at you.”

You glared at him, once again wondering what was going through his head. He acted as if he’d never looked at you before. But as you smiled down at him, his own lips grew into his dimpled grin, making you warm all over. He brushed your hair from your face, his thumb grazing across your cheek.

“You’re like an angel,” he murmured. “You take my breath away.”

“Harry…” you exhaled.

“I’m all yours too, honey.”

You beamed at him, knowing it was a reply to your previous admission. Then lifting yourself onto your knees, you looked into his eyes as you sank down onto his cock. You hissed as he closed his eyes, both of you already sensitive.

You rode him with determination, needing to chase the release. After bouncing on him a few times, Harry took your left hand and held it to his chest, making sure you didn’t put too much pressure on that arm. You giggled awkwardly as you tried to keep your balance, but your boyfriend was good at helping.

As you started to reach your high, the burn imminent both in your thighs and your core, you began to cry out.

“Harry….it’s so good, baby…oh, God…Harryyyyy.”

Bucking his hips against you, his hands both now on your own hips, he stared you in the eyes.

“I know, honey. Tell me.”

“Mmmmm…I’m all yours, Harry,” you bit your lip, throwing your head back.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Blinking, you gazed down at him, his gorgeous face flushed. He groaned in pleasure before wrapping his arms around you.

“Tell me, baby. I wanna hear you say it.”

“What?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes widening, you stared at him in…no, not disbelief. Because you absolutely believed it.

“I know you feel it, baby. Just like I do. Tell me. Please.”

You’d slowed down your hips, Harry having paused his thrusts. But as you began to resume, moving faster, his gorgeous mouth hanging open, you nodded.

“I love you, Harry.”

His lips twitched before he licked them, then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

A tiny giggle escaped your throat as realization kicked in. You were in love. And all his.

You rode Harry to the finish, reaching orgasm just before he cried out those three words again. He kissed you deeply, his tongue letting you know how pleased he was. His head falling back, his eyes closed in complete bliss, the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.

“Say it again, babe.”

You kissed his salty chest and neck, then gnawed on his stubbly chin.

“I love you,” you sang softly before kissing his lips.

“And I love you,” he echoed while your face hovered over his, your hair surrounding you both like a secret garden. “So much.”

Chatter filled the room and your ears as you suddenly heard the clink of a fork against glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen! A toast! To our man of the evening!" announced Sherrod. Harry turned to him with a bashful grin. "It has been my utmost pleasure to host this soiree for such an incredible artist. He is a viable part of this community, and I know you all join me in congratulating him at completing another remarkable series. To Harry Styles!"

As everyone clapped and cheered, raising their glasses, you heard Stan shout, "Hear, hear!"

Smiling at your boss, whom you had been thrilled to see arrive with his wife, you watched him make a taste of his own.

"Harry, my son, I've watched you sit at that same table in my cafe for over a year, doodling on your notepads and…thingamajig…" he gestured, making the guests chuckle. "To be honest, I didn't understand why my coffee shop, or why that table…or why only flat white lattes…" more laughs erupted as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "But I knew you had talent. And ambition. I'm proud of you, son. And I'm proud to say I knew you when."

"Hear, hear!" Sherrod and others cheered, raising their glasses again.

"Thank you, Stan. Thank you Sherrod," Harry choked. "This whole night means more to me than you'll ever know. All of you. I'm so humbled that each of you came tonight. This truly was special. I'll never forget it."

Harry's eyes met yours during his final words. Then as the chatter resumed, he stepped forward and pulled you into a long kiss.

"Alright you two," said Jill behind you. "Don't go find a room just yet. I need to take pictures."

You giggled as your friend held her phone up and you posed for several photos with Harry, including one where you were kissing him on the cheek. Satisfied with her shots, Jill squealed with joy and announced she had to take some more with her other friends next to Harry’s art.

A waiter came by then with more champagne, and you gladly took another glass, handing him your empty one.

“I’m so happy to see you having a good time,” beamed Harry, his arm still around you.

“I may have had a few too many of these,” you snickered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No matter. We have that limo, thanks to you.”

“You can actually thank Shae. It was her idea.”

“Where is Shae, by the way?” Harry turned his head to search for your roommate. He spotted her next to the shrimp, talking to Kyle. His chest shook with laughter as he turned back to you.

“What?” you asked. “Kyle’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah. Too nice. She’s probably giving him an earful, and I’ll have to hear about it later.”

You playfully slapped his arm in your friend’s defense, though you knew he was right.

“Good idea, by the way, showing off your tattoo right away. I already have some clients lined up.”

“That’s awesome!” you cheered. You figured one of them was the nice lady you were talking to last time, since you saw her again soon after you’d arrived.

“Harry, my good man, congratulations!” another voice sounded. You both swiveled to see Carlo, his arm already stretched to give Harry a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Carlo.”

“Anything for you, my friend! Y/N, I don’t believe you’ve met my beautiful wife, Jossalyn.” Carlo gestured to the stunning tattooed brunette to his right.

You both gave each other salutations before Harry pulled her into a hug as well. Then they announced their exit and said their goodbyes.

“You have a lot of friends and admirers, Harry,” you commented.

He nodded. “Seems that way. I need to remember to count my blessings.”

You lifted your hand to his handsome face, and he covered it with his own, gently shutting his eyes.

“Y/N! We have to be going, guys!” John shouted, breaking your reverie.

“John, thank you so much for coming!” you told him as you squeezed him. “And for bringing Rafi.”

“Told you he’s a dish,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded as you watched his partner shake hands with Harry, then you did the same. As soon as they left, Harry leaned into you.

“Rafael is interested in my art.”

“Your art, or something else?” you quirked a brow. “I saw how he looked at you earlier.”

Harry cackled. “I promise it was strictly a professional conversation. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind him I’m taken.”

As he slid his arm back around your waist, you shook your head as you smiled up at him. “I was teasing you. I wouldn’t blame anyone in this room for wanting a piece of you…professionally or otherwise. But I appreciate the sentiment. Also, I trust you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad, baby.”

Harry brought his hand up to slide under your jaw, and he was just about to kiss you when the other man of the hour interrupted.

“Harry, lad, I have an early flight in the morning, so I must bid farewell,” said Donovan McNulty. This evening he wore a black suit with a red bowtie. You smiled at him, holding out your hand.

“Mr. Nulty, thank you so much for coming. You’ve made Harry so happy.”

Donovan leaned in and kissed your cheek, then the other. “My dear, I reckon it’s the other way around. Besides, it looks like he’s found his happiness right here, with his muse.”

He gave you a wink as he squeezed your tattooed arm before shaking Harry’s hand and waving goodbye.

The party continued for another hour or so. You and Harry both gave a lot more thank yous and farewells. Then when no other guests remained (Harry insisted on seeing everyone out to show his appreciation), Sherrod finally shooed you out to the limo.

“Thanks for helping with everything, sweetheart,” cooed Harry as he necked you in the back of the car.

“I didn’t do much,” you conveyed. “Sherrod set up most of it.”

“No, you did more than you know. I love and appreciate you.”

“Same here, handsome,” you grinned before caressing his soft lips. “By the way, I have something to show you when we get to your place.”

“Yeah? Is it under your dress?”

You giggled as his hand wandered under the flimsy fabric of the new dress you’d purchased just for this occasion.

“No,” you playfully tugged at his wrist. “It’s something I left there while we were getting ready. It’s in your nightstand.”

“Handcuffs?”

“No! Harry Styles, I’m trying to be romantic and open, and you’re being naughty.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, babe. I can’t help it. It’s just where my mind went.”

“It’s okay,” you tutted.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

Harry held your hand as he walked you to his apartment. The glow of the moon shone through the balcony doors, punctuating the end of the moon-themed evening like a full stop. Although you weren’t ready for it to end just yet.

You laid your clutch bag on the counter next to his keys and wallet before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Throwing your arms around his neck, you let his tongue tangle with yours, tasting the champagne you’d both consumed. Then he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you into the bedroom.

“Are you gonna show me now?” he asked between kisses after he laid you down.

You simply nodded, then reached for the bedside table, opening the top drawer. You retrieved a small notebook, the one you’d been writing in. Opening it, you flipped to the page you wanted to show him. When you handed it to him, he looked at you inquisitively.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Remember when you asked me if I had a hobby, something that I was passionate about? And I mentioned I used to write?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You inspired me.”

With an easy grin, Harry sat back on the pillows, crossing his ankles. You sat next to him, your legs tucked underneath you as you bit your bottom lip nervously.

Brilliant, blazing, glistening, glittering

The celestial satellite shines by the light reflected from the sun

Its beautiful mystery soothingly captivates us

All aglow, seemingly from within

Feminine energy that affects the rise and fall of the tides

A big balloon, luminous and serene

These are words used to describe the moon

But they are also words to describe my heart

For my heart is now a big balloon

All aglow and alight from within

From the light of your heart, the sun

Brilliant, blazing, beautiful

Wondrous and astral, my heart is now home

Lowering the notebook after reading your poem, Harry looked at you.

“It’s kinda short,” you offered with a hesitant chuckle. “But it took me forever.”

“Baby,” he said, scooting closer to you and reaching for you. “This is beautiful.”

“Really?” you crinkled your nose, still not completely confident.

“Yes, baby, really. I love it. I love you.”

Your expression softened, easing into a smile. Harry pulled you to his chest, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Thank you for writing it, but even more, for sharing it with me.”

“I figured I should, since you share so much with me.”

“That’s what I mean, love. Not only did you share your heart with me, but you put it into words on paper. It’s stunning. I’m…”

His hands still in your hair, he paused his words.

“What?” you asked as you saw a tiny tear escape from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “Harry…”

“Can’t help it, baby,” he choked as you wiped the tear. “I’ve fallen so hard for you.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Tell me again, Y/N.”

“I love you…” you said, his lips capturing yours once again before you could say his name.

You didn’t mind that he asked you to say those words. In fact, you liked it. You would tattoo it on your heart if you could.

THE END

And there we have it :). Please like, comment and consider following me if you enjoyed it! Feedback is love x.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

silver springs - d. wagner

a/n: hi. welcome back. remember the to do list i had? out the window. danny wagner kiss me on the lips challenge. enjoy, yearning sluts. warnings: horny, danny practices writing kissing and grumpy ish reader, right person wrong time, sort of slow burn? idk, death of a sibling, grief, angst, cursing, reader smokes until the end of the fic, reader has tattoos as usual, lots of sex refrences as usual, corny shit as usual. word count: 3.9k (throwing up) summary: the three times daniel wants you, and the one time he gets you. paring: daniel wagner x gn!reader now playing: silver springs - fleetwood mac "i follow you down/till the sound of my voice will haunt you/you'll never get away from the sound/of the woman that loves you."

It all starts when you’re eighteen, fresh off a breakup with a guy who cheated on you. You found him sleeping with a girl from your psych class after you introduced him to at a party. In hindsight, he wasn’t a loss or anything, but you were eighteen. You were stupid and in love and he was all that mattered to you.

After three months of moping around and being miserable because of him, your friend, Veronica, eventually convinced you to get over yourself and go out with her.

You obliged. It was three quarters of the way through your sophomore year and were determined to not let some guy who couldn’t even make you cum ruin your college experience.

And what was this wild experience your friend wanted to do to get you out of your funk?

Well, she decided it would be a concert. A rock concert.

You had heard of Greta Van Fleet a few times—Veronica was straight up obsessed with them. You mostly listened to music your ex-boyfriend listened to, and never really formed an opinion of your own on the matter. You had other stuff to do, you would defend.

At this point in their career, Greta Van Fleet was only just starting; They were playing a small venue nearby, as an opener.

Veronica convinced you to go super early and get a good view with her. What else were you supposed to do on a Saturday? Your homework?

And even you had to admit, they were pretty good. You enjoyed the passion they had for their shows, and they were all pretty good looking.

The drummer especially.

Veronica decided to stick around after their set, grabbing a drink with some guy she had met, while you went outside to smoke.

Smoking was a horrible habit you had picked up, and you fully intended to quit, it just never struck you as the right time. It was a late spring night, the air muggy and buzzing with the lights of the city. You had been going to school in New York for a little less than a year, and you loved every second of it. Sure, you missed your family, who you had left behind in Nashville, especially your sister, but you knew you needed to leave. Even for just a while.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” A voice asks. You whip your head only to see the drummer. What was his name again?

“Yeah, sure.” You take out your lighter and flick it on, letting him light his cigarette with it.

“Thanks.” There’s a silence that fills the air while you smoke, until he eventually extends a hand. “I’m Danny.”

You smile, shaking his hand and giving him your name before adding, “And I know who you are.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, you’re the drummer.” You say coolly, although your heart is racing.

“You like our music?”

“Now I do. Tonight, was your first show of mine.” You explain, “My friend is like,” You cough on smoke, “Obsessed with you.”

Feeling bold, Danny asks, “What if I want you to be obsessed with me?” And it makes you scoff, only you’re only doing it because you’re nervous.

“You flirt with all your fans like this, Drummer?”

“Only the pretty ones.” You just smirk. You don’t expect the next words out of his mouth to be, “Come with me to California.”

“What?” You laugh, unable to believe it.

“California. We’re releasing an album later this year, so you should see more of our shows before we become a huge hit.”

“I can’t go to California with you!” You grin, and by the way he’s smiling at you, you know he’s not expecting you to.

“Why not?”

“I have classes, for one!”

“Classes? So pretty and smart?”

“Oh my god, Shut up.”

“What are you majoring in?”

“English. I want to write. Whatever they’ll have me write, articles, books, what the fuck ever, you know what I mean?”

And he does. He gets it because that’s the way he feels about writing music.

“I get it.” He answers.

“So, I can’t come with you to California.”

“No, I guess not. But when you get a job writing, you’ll let me come find you? Ghostwrite my memoir, write a scathing review of us, what the fuck ever, as you so delicately put it?”

“Deal.” You agree.

“Then, I’ll see you, Sugar.” You stop at the name, turning to him. “What?” He asks.

“That’s what my family calls me.” He laughs. “I’m being serious!” You argue.

“No, you’re not—” He realizes you most definitely are. “Why would they call you that?”

“Because my sister is the nice one, and I am an asshole.”

“No fucking way.”

“What, did ‘What the fuck ever’ not give you enough of a hint? She’s Spice, and I’m Sugar, only Sugar stuck.” You say, finishing your cigarette.

“Well, Sugar. At least let me give you my number if I can’t take you to California.”

“Deal.” You agree, but before he can, his friends from the band are calling him, and you know Veronica must be wondering where you are. And he doesn’t have his phone on him or a pen, and your phone is dead.

Fuck.

“Hey—” He pulls you close with one arm, his other hand still with a cigarette. He puts it in his mouth so his hand can reach down and pull your lighter out of your pocket. “I’ll give this back when we meet again, alright?” He asks, his words a little murmured because of the cigarette.

You’re usually cynical. You could’ve told him to fuck off and took the lighter back. But you don’t.

Instead, you kiss his jaw and mutter, “Okay. Later, Drummer.” He pockets the lighter, and starts walking back to his friends, only backwards to face you still.

“See you soon, Sugar!” He calls.

It’s only when you get back to Veronica that your brain clears enough to remember that your full name is on the lighter. You hope he’ll use it to come find you.

• • •

So, the next few years fly by and before you know it, you’ve been out of school for around a year now, and you’re happier than ever. You’re staying in Tennessee, staying with your sister and your niece. You’re apartment hunting, starting a new job as soon as the New Year comes, but you have ulterior motives.

You’re getting ready in her bathroom as she leans against the door frame, watching you. Your niece sits on the edge of the tub. She just turned six and is learning all about the world. You love watching her grow, except for one teensy little thing—

“Why does Sugar get to go see Greta and I don’t?” She asks your sister.

“Because Sugar has big kid money, and you spend your allowance on Barbie.” Your niece just huffs. You grin as you finish fixing your hair. You crouch down to her level, and push hair from her face.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll take lots of photos for you, and get you a shirt, and I’ll take you on their next tour, okay?”          

She considers this for a moment.

“And you’ll say hi to Jake for me?” While you are in Danny Lane, Duh, she is strictly obsessed with Jake Kiszka.

“Of course, I will! Duh! He’s gonna love a message from his best girl.” You say it as if it’s obvious. She giggles and stands, giving you a quick hug before you have to leave.

“You’re so good with her. And nice too, I never expected that.” Your sister says as she walks you to the door.

“Don’t expect me to go soft with you, too. She’s the exception.” Your sister just smiles as she stands in the door, watching you walk down the walkway.

“Be safe!” She calls.

“Bye, Mom!” You say dramatically as you get in her car to drive to the venue with.

The show is amazing, as usual. Since their career has taken off, you’re only a more active fan, always keeping tabs.

You keep tabs to see if Danny is taking anyone. He does. You don’t know if that’s true for right now, but you know he has since you saw him. So have you. It’s ridiculous to assume you’d stop your lives for one flirty encounter when you were 18.

After the show, you notice people grouped around, waiting to see if the boys make an appearance. You don’t have anywhere to be. You stick around.

An hour or two passes. You smoke, lending cigarettes to other people waiting, and the number of folks start to dwindle down. But the summer is coming to an end, and you know that this might be one of the last times you can stay out this late without freezing for a while.

And wouldn’t you know it, Sam and Danny come out to say hi. And Sam is lovely, of course he is! He’s sweet and funny, and even more handsome in person.

But Danny makes your heart race. You grin to him, and it takes him a second before he breaks out in a grin, as he approaches you. Before you can say anything he just hugs you, and holds you for a while. He pulls away and looks at you, uttering your full name, as it was written on your lighter.

“Danny...” you say softly, and he just keeps smiling at you. His curls look healthier. He looks healthier.

“Hi, Sugar.” He says gently.

“You remembered that stupid nickname, Oh God...” you groan.

“And you still hate it.”

“Mm... maybe not so much when you say it. Maybe not when my niece says it.”  Because it stuck so well, your niece just grew up knowing your name as Sugar, and not much else.

“Your niece?”

“Stevie, she’s an angel, and in love with Jake Kiszka.” You admit.

“I’ll extend the message. Stevie, is that a reference to the true queen of breakup songs?”

“Yes, of course.” You assure. You can’t stop staring at him. His eyes wander down to your arm, to your wrist.

“Cool tattoo.” It’s a lighter. It’s corny, you know that. And part of you didn’t even get it because of him. Half of you just thought it would be cool. But there was a part that hoped he’d see it one day.

“Well, some asshole took my last lighter and hasn’t given it back, so I figured no one can steal this one.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re funny, Sugar.”

“Well...” You shrug softly, “You can keep the lighter by the way.” You assured. “No hard feelings.” He grins, pulling it out of his pocket and waving it at you.

“Thanks. And hey, maybe I could give you something of mine, too?” This confuses you until he pulls off the necklace he’s wearing and drops it in your hands. You look down at it, and your face flushes. It’s a long leather cord, with a milky stone shaped like a moon.

“Does this mean I won’t be getting your number tonight?” You ask, as your hand closes over the necklace. He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’m going to be on tour for a while, and you live in New York—”

“I’m moving to Tennessee. Nashville. For work.” You assure. He smiles wider.

“Then when I get back. I’ll come find you.” He speaks. “Are you in the writing business yet?”

“Getting there.” You tell him.

“Then I’ll find you in the future.” He assures, as Sammy calls his name back at the door where he came from. How come it always ends this way? How come you always have to say goodbye to him? Especially when he looks this good? Your heart aches for him already. You want him to kiss you. But instead, you lean up and kiss his jaw, and he smiles down at you when you pull away.

“See you soon, Sugar.” He says gently. It’s quieter this time. You know he means it. He pulls away, and takes one last long look at you, and turns just before you can see tears in his eyes, and just before he can see tears in yours.

• • •

The rest of the year flies, and your new job starts, about twenty minutes from where you live, and only fifteen from your sister and niece. You get a raise three months in, and it’s just in time for you to buy your niece tickets to the Starcatcher World Tour. You’ll be the first show of a long tour, and you know you can’t stay like you did last time. Besides, he won’t come out to see the fans, not after such a long night.

You bring something for him just in case.

But your niece and you have a great time, despite this being your first show without being in the pit. You have first row lower bowl seats.

Ticketmaster is your sworn enemy, and you’ve won every battle with them lately. Fuck ‘em.

Because it’s the first show of the tour, everything is new, and you don’t know what to expect. You especially don’t expect a ten-minute drum solo from Danny.

…It makes you want him desperately.

When they move to the B stage, you’re still a little caught up in him, but that is nothing compared to when they exit the B stage and start handing out flowers. Danny doesn’t really have any flowers, but Jake is walking right in front of him, and right towards you.

Your niece freaks the fuck out. Because she is a Jake girl, and Jake is right there. He sees her small hands and grins, handing her a rose, and clasping her hand with his for a moment before continuing his walk. You’re so caught up in this moment that you don’t register that Danny is quickly approaching.

And then you do, and you’re one of the many calling out to him, as he smiles and clasps his hands with theirs.

Instead of Danny, you call, “Hey, Drummer!” and somehow, during all this chaos, he sees you. And he’s grinning like an idiot.

He stops for a second, pulling you forward, and before you know it, he’s taking about twenty seconds to kiss you.

It’s deep, passionate, and full of the raw need that you’ve felt since seeing his drum solo. Everyone around you is freaking out as you slip what you bought to give him into his hand.

He must leave though, and he slips what you’ve given him in his pocket, pulling away, and whispering quickly,

“See you soon, Sugar.” He leaves, and you’re left to the screaming fans around you, including your niece, who can’t believe anything that just happened.

The show goes on, and there’s a new energy about Danny.

Everyone on twitter goes wild about your interaction.

When he gets off stage that night, he pulls out what you gave him from his pocket, and sees it’s a polaroid picture of you, in your bathing suit and sunglasses, on the beach.

He uses it to get through rough nights on tour.

• • •

The next year or so goes by in a whirlwind—In the worst way possible. Work is going well, you don’t date anymore, delusional about your Drummer, and for a while, everything is fine.

Until your sister slides off the road during a snowstorm and is killed on impact.

You go from taking care of Stevie when your sister needed a break, to being her legal guardian.

It is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. You balance your work life with your grief, newfound parental duties, and helping Stevie through the loss of her mother. Her father was never in her life, and you find yourself moving into your sister’s house, so Stevie doesn’t have to move schools.

You watch her attempt to process this huge loss at eight years old. She doesn’t listen to music anymore; she doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday and she doesn’t want to sleep without a nightlight.

You hold her while she cries for her mom.

You hold your mom while she cries for her daughter.

No one holds you as you sob, longing for your sister.

You will yourself to be good. To be nice and not let the grief suffocate you, you need to be there for your best girl, she cannot do this without you. But it’s so hard. You’re angry with the world, with yourself, with her, why couldn’t she have just stayed the night at her friends? You will yourself to channel that stupid nickname. You will yourself to be good.

The winter is hard, but as the season thaws, so does your grief. It’s still hard, but the kitchen fills again with the smell of pizza and baked goods, with the sound of Foo Fighters and Guns N Roses, and with your niece’s laughter.

You talk about your sister openly, never hiding your own grief from Stevie, and never being afraid to tell her stories of her mom.

You get a tattoo on what would have been your sister’s birthday. It’s just her birth flower.

Under it, in her handwriting, is “Sugar and Spice.” It’s right beneath your lighter tattoo. It’s the only time you’ve ever cried getting a tattoo.

Summer comes, and your office has no A.C. It’s a critically hot day in Nashville, Stevie is being watched by your mom. You’re editing a new chapter from a high-end client, just finishing it up before you head home for the day. Really, your day ended ten minutes ago, but you’re still working. Until you get a call from your office’s front lobby.

When you answer it, it’s just Jane, the security guard.

“Hey, Jane, what can I do for you?” You ask, rubbing your eyes from finally unfocusing from your computer screen.

“Hey, Kid. Just wanted to see if you were okay with company. Pretty boy says he’s here to see you.” You furrow your brows. Pretty boy? There have been no pretty boys in your life recently.

“What’s his name?” You ask quizzically. You hearJane asking for a name.

“Says his names Danny, and—” You stand, making sure your draft is saved before you turn off your computer, grabbing your things, and remembering she’s waiting for a response.

“Uh—Tell him I’ll be right there!” You say quickly before hanging up, then dash to the elevator, wishing it to go faster. It takes forever.

When the doors open, he stands in front of you, as if he was waiting to take the next elevator up. You just grin and lunge, hugging him tightly. He returns the sentiment. You hold each other there, just embracing each other and taking the other in. You pull away to really look at him.

You haven’t been active on social media since you took guardianship of Stevie, too busy. So, you haven’t seen him in a while. He looks phenomenal. His hair is shorter, but he wears two gold hoop earrings, a grey muscle tee, and has the same smile. His hair has this slight highlight to it, and his skin is tanner, his freckles enunciated.

You want to kiss him.

But you stand back from him for a moment to turn to Jane and thank her, and then you pull him outside, onto the busy streets. You walk for a few minutes in silence, turning here and there. You eventually lead him to duck into a quiet, relatively clean alley way. It’s in a quieter part of town, and you lean against one wall, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your shirt, heart racing in anticipation. He leans against the wall, looking at you.

He can see the leather cord around your neck. It pushes him over the edge.

Suddenly, his hands are on your cheeks as he begins kissing you. His lips are just as soft as you remember, but his hands are rough. They must be calloused, even blistered from guitar and drums. You deepen the kiss. It’s heavy, and hot, much like the day around you.

It makes you want him more.

You pull him closer, by grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you. He tilts his head for better access, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’ve wanted this for years. Your hands leave his shirt, trailing up to tangle in those locks of his.

You finally pull away when you can’t stand to be without air anymore. But as soon as you do, you find yourself kissing him again. Not as deeply this time, but with just as much need. You kiss him again and again, your skin burning.

When he pulls away for real, panting, he leans his head on the wall behind you, his hot breath on your collar bone.

“Found me, Drummer…”

“Found you, Sugar…” He says softly.

“How? Why?” He pulls back to look at your face.

“How? You’re on your company’s website. Why? What do you mean why? Why? Because for the past six fucking years, I have only had enough of you to keep me wanting you, and every time I’m able to stop dreaming about you and your perfect lips, I am pulled back in by fate, seeing you always. And when I kissed you last year... It snapped something in me. You ruined everyone else for me, and I still had to wait. I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m not on tour, I’m here for a long time. I need you...” He says your name gently when he realizes you have this terrified look on your face.

“I… I can’t just… Danny, I’m my niece’s legal guardian. I will always have an obligation to her first, I can’t run off with you… Can’t go with you to California...” You tell him weakly.

“That’s okay.” In truth, Danny always wanted kids, and sure, he wasn’t planning on a kid just now, but he’s sure you can make this work. “When did this happen?”

“January… When my sister died.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it cracks with emotion. He just kisses you quickly and holds you.

“I still need you. I’d love to meet your niece.” He says once you’ve pulled away. You grin.

“She’s a big fan of yours.”

“More of a Jake girl, I hear.” He smirks. It makes you laugh.

You straighten yourself out, ready to take him to your house, have him meet Stevie, and just jump into it. Fuck it. What have you got to lose after waiting for him for six years?

Before you can make it out of the alley, he grabs your hand and says your name again. He takes out his—your lighter, and places it in your hand. You gave up smoking the night your sister died.

“I don’t need it right now, sugar. I told you, when I saw you again, it would be yours. And now we don’t have to say goodbye in two minutes.” It’s enough to make you lean forward and kiss him again.

You take his hand and begin walking with him. There’s no need to long for him anymore.

[asilentandkindersea]

beautiful stranger — c. berzatto

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) : carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x blackf¡reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) : needle, blood, kind of ooc carmy.

(+𝟏𝟖) bear and berry au, where carmen get a tattoo on a whim, only to develop a precious friendship with his tattoo artist.

hi, welcome in the land of imagination and alternative universe. today, you are going to explore the stupidity of my brain and my overwhelming load of ideas. i’m very new in the xreader writing lore, first time i’m not writing an oc story so have as much fun as possible, like and reblog, it means a lot to me. kisses on the nose. <3

tw : not proofread, written at 2 am and clearly sleep deprived, appends a few years before the tv show, when carmen was being treated like shit in new york, english isn’t my first language !

the art of eye contact was something you mastered at. the depth of your irises staring down your interlocutors’ eyes for the time being. at first, carmen thought it was intimidating, and with time, while his cerulean eyes no longer fled from the hold yours had, he found out. noticing at first when the light of this small studio hit your irises that they held an hint of gold inside of them. it was more apparent during sunny days, when the ball of flame carefully lightened up your face.

your dark lashes battled softly every two seconds when you were focused, maybe more if he dared to look away for the spit of a moment. darting his eyes from your lashes to your nose, drawing the curves of your face, memorizing each of these part only to doodle them later on when shame was no longer in order. maybe it was the pinkness of your lips that captivated his sense, or it was probably the way you bit your bottom lips trying to focus when there was no sound other than your beating heart and his ragged breathing.

it was most definitely the way your nose crunched when you were showing a proud expression, seeing as the drawing on his skin only looked like you imagined it. he had to fight the urge to press a soft kiss on the wrinkles of your nose more than once, during the first few months. probably coming back at the studio was the worst idea, considering he was no longer focused on his cooking but mostly on the lock falling in front of your face. he might have pushed it a few times behind your ear while you where so focused drawing your next flashes.

was he always this pathetic before ? or was it the first time his focus had shift so intensively?

the first time he came at the tattoo shop was months after coming back from noma, and working in new york. he don’t really know how he managed to find the shop, to be honest, maybe it was while looking online, or while walking home after a boring day off. yet, even tho he never truly cared in the higher power, not once hadn’t he thanked the universe for making him walk into the shop.

new york always felt like home to you, only when it came to tattoos and illegal drawings at night in those dark alleys you so often found yourself in. maybe if you hadn’t taken a break from college after an injury you wouldn’t have met his ocean eyes, the kind of blue you only see in summer when you are in your hometown. nonetheless, you loved new york for the small aspects, and he was one of those.

it was a saturday, usually you were off the weekend, but the quietest of your apartment was driving you insane, and the walk from your place to the shop was short. your very much used converse on and a redbull in your hand, you found place in that room you secluded yourself most of the time. the light pink color emitting from your neons, the oh so many plants hanging around and an old frank sinatra vinyl playing, you were drawing a new flash.

something you loved doing, doodling tattoos no matter how silly they could be. fingers moving across the screen, feet tapping in rhythm to the music, and eyes focused on the drawing, nothing could’ve made you look up from that piece of art you were making. and yet, the ding of the bell announcing a new client made you jolt from your red seat, closing the ipad in a second before walking out of the small room you found comfort in.

a not-so-tall man was standing in front of the counter, a jacket thrown over his white t-shirt, and his curls disheveled — had he messed with it ? — his eyes beamed upon seeing you.

“hi. . . sorry. i—“

he was shuttering like a pre schooler, — that was cute— his hand moving to his curls only to nervously mess them.

“hello, do you have an appointment ?”

in his ears, your voice sounded sweet like honey. entrancing like the sea monster, the sirens pulling him towards the depths, enchanting him in a way that caused the tip of his hears to flush pink for a second. you were showing this infamous smile people would go to war for, and carmen berzatto was a goner.

“i don’t— sorry i saw the sight ‘bout the non appointment thingy and. . . i can come back another time or—“

“no it’s okay, my colleague is busy, and i’m not, what are you here for? a tattoo. . . a piercing perhaps?”

your irises staring down his cerulean one, he almost felt like drowning only to be trapped in the depths of your eyes.

“a tattoo, if possible.”

“m’okay pretty boy, i’m gonna need you to sign the consent form and then we’ll talk in my studio.”

his fingers lingered a second too long on yours, while grabbing the pen you were giving him. an electric shock went through your body, making your eyes go wide, only to bend over, searching for the consent form. the paper on the counter, only the sound of the pen scribbling down his information was heard. usually, you weren’t that shy, and yet… there was something this man had that made your heart run a marathon.

“alright, do you have an idea or something you wanna do?”

once again, your voice made his entire world shatter.

the studio was small, a faint smell of cigarette lingering the fake leather seats, covered with thrown pillows. posters, canvas, were on the wall, many were signed with your name, while others had name he couldn’t make out from where he was seating. carmy admires the decoration, in all honesty, he thought the room would look completely different, and yet…

“i got some you might like, but if you have an idea you can doodle it or describe it to me and we’ll go from there.”

it took you at least half an hour to decide on the tattoo. his shoulder falling in a relaxed manner each passing second, while his eyes wondered on the screen you were making what he had in mind, real. he noticed the way your eyebrows furrowed in focused, your feet bouncing in rhythm with the single playing over and over again, before you lifted your head with a soft smile filled with pride.

looking back at the drawing, he felt understood in an odd way. perhaps it was how you made his thoughts appear on the screen, or probably the way you were explaining the reasoning behind your choices. he clearly wasn’t paying attention to this part yet, far too focused on the black design to say anything.

lifting his head only when the vinyl was heard and your voice had disappeared, he finally snapped out of his daze, he found the strength to answer this silent question your eyes were asking him.

“i like it, yeah.. it.. yeah. that’s what i had in mind. can we.. like do it on my arm, right here?”

showing the top of his forearm, and the empty space, you nodded.

to be honest, the time to prep felt like a blur, as the conversation flew awkwardly at first, before the cooking subject came by. the fact that your parents had a cabaret intrigued carmen, and made him ask so many questions all at once. if there was one thing that never changed about him, was his insatiable curiosity, and knowledge. new kitchen, new food, new restaurant. always the first thing on his mind, and as you were moving toward the leathery table, the tray with your torture equipment (he clearly didn’t know the names of every stuff present on it) moving along.

he knew it was also time for the permanent drawing. from the moment the frank sinatra vinyl was changed for a the weeknd one — making your shoulders move at the first few notes while putting on the latex red gloves.

“why red ?”

he asked, the last time he had a tattoo done, the artist had black one.

“why not ? red is my favorite color.”

your chuckles made his shoulder drop, relaxed in this unfamiliar and warm room. his arms shaved, cleaned, the needle was right above his skin. your face close to his skin, dreadlocks pulled in a high ponytail, glasses on your nose and that little wrinkle of focus, he felt a pinch in his skin.

“hey, stand still pretty boy, m’kay ?”

and he did, ignoring the way his skin turned red each time the needle was piercing his flesh, only nodding and chuckling as the conversation goes on. surprisingly, he felt at ease under the sharp machine, and your — very — shitty jokes. he noticed the tissue used to clean up the tony drop of blood that left the open wound, noticing how you asked him if he was in pain each passing minute. even once you finished the masterpiece, he stayed on the table laughing at your stupid attempt to make him laugh — which worked because he was complaining of tummy aches with a smile on his lips —, you stayed in your studios even after closing hour, forgetting the existence of your colleague in the room next door, his cerulean irises fixated in your comforting eyes.

he didn’t know that entering this shop with the idea of marking his skin permanently with two angels and a sun, would give him someone to talk to for hours without catching a break.

© 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐚

[cowpokeomens]

helloooo ~

could you please do a casual outing date with noah sebastian? anything from a simple lunch to some shopping just super fluffy and cute thank uuuu

Ask and ye shall receive! This is loosely based off of an experience I had a few weeks ago (The entranced window-gazing, not the almost-sugar daddy part, RIP me ig) Enjoy!

You had a long week. It seemed like your higher-ups gotten more demanding with each passing day. As if going to a shitty job wasn’t hard enough on its own, Noah was home from tour, too. You could drag yourself to work with the promise of a venti triple shot drink from Starbucks most days, but with his sleeping form next you in bed- warm, tattooed skin on display- the feat of getting up became nearly impossible. When the weekend finally rolled around, you embraced it with open arms, sleeping in until 11AM on Saturday. 

You awoke to the smell of coffee, stretching your arms and padding your way into the kitchen. You found Noah there, sweatpants slung low on his hips, swiping on his phone while music played softly from the TV in the living room. He glanced up upon your arrival. 

“Well good morning, gorgeous. I was starting to wonder where I was going to hide your body.” He flashed you a lopsided grin.

You returned the smile, going over to where the coffee pot was still set to warm. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily, Sebastian. I’d haunt your ass.”

“Oh no! I hope the scary, sexy ghost doesn’t watch me in the shower!” Noah mock-cried, waving his hands in the air for effect. You giggled at his antics, adding creamer to your coffee as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “What’re we doing today, buttercup?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, I need a new pair of shoes for work, supportive sole type shit-”

“Nope.” You were cut off by the man behind you. “No boring work shit today. We’re having fun.” 

“Fun?” You echoed, turning just enough to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

He rolled his eyes, snorting at you. “Not that kind of fun, you freak. Good, wholesome, Christian fun.”

“Ooh, are we gonna make out on the bus on the way to church camp?” You mocked him.

“I cannot stand you. Have I said that before? Because I can’t.” His actions betrayed his words as he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, then the top of your head, then your shoulder again. 

“Then what is your definition of ‘good, wholesome, Christian fun,’ Sebastian?” You turned to face him fully, sipping from your mug. 

“I was thinking retail therapy. We could go to that shopping center you like so much, with the paper store that has all the tape and stuff.” He puffed his chest proudly for remembering it.

“The stationary store.” You pondered aloud. “I could get stickers.”

He nodded eagerly. “I’ll buy you so many fucking stickers, baby.”

You grinned up at him. “I’m sold. Let me brush my teeth and find udnerwear-”

“-Hey, no pressure from me-”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “-And then we can head out.”

_________________________________________

A few hours later you found yourself in a shopping center somewhere in the northern section of your city. It was more of an outdoor mall, but you really only preferred a small corner of the sprawl. 

Noah walked beside you cheerfully, hand tightly clasped in yours. His other hand held a cute, pastel blue bag from the stationary store, where you had racked up quite the tab. Before you could get your card out, though, Noah was tapping his own against the machine. 

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.” You pouted, feeling guilty. 

He shrugged. “I’ve got that ‘Rockstar Boyfriend’ money now, baby, I can buy you stickers.”

You snorted at him. “Glad to hear that Jolly has been filing you guys’ taxes correctly.”

“Hey, I help, too.” He protested. 

“Mhm, no one can work the espresso machine for him quite like you, dear.” You mollified him. 

“I can’t believe I’m being treated this way, I have an ‘Alternative Press’ cover, y’know-”

He got quiet when he noticed you had stopped walking. He glanced at you, concerned, then followed your line of sight. 

You were gazing, open-mouthed, into the window of a purse store. You didn’t actually know anything about luxury brands- much less designer handbags- but you could recognize art when you saw it. 

It was black, probably genuine leather. A cross-body bag, pleasantly spacious without being large. Its silver rivets glinted at you in the midday sun, enticing you with their gleam. A thick, silver chain decorated the top, contrasting sharply with the clean cut of the long black handle. 

“What?” He asked at last. 

“Sorry.” You responded absently, still not looking away. 

He huffed a laugh. “Do you want to go inside?” 

“No.” Came your immediate response. 

“Babe, I know that look. That’s how you looked at me the first day I got back from tour. Now, I’m not so insecure as a man to let a purse threaten me, but if you start talking dirty to it-”

“Shut up, Noah.” You finally broke your stare to turn to him, giggling. “It’s just pretty is all.”

“‘Pretty?’” He repeated.

You nodded earnestly, already beginning to walk away. 

“Well hey, if it’s so ‘pretty,’ let’s go inside and get a closer look.” He tugged on your joined hands.

You grimaced, lowering your voice. “Baby, it’s probably like, a gajillion dollars-”

“Oh, I hope so. I just so happen to have a ‘Gajillion’ Monopoly dollar in my pocket. C’mon.” He tugged you once more, finally convincing you to follow.

The inside of the store was freakishly white. White walls, white display podiums, white chairs. Who the fuck comes in here to sit? You wondered to yourself. There, in the field of white, was your black sheep in all its glory. Noah released your hand as you glided over to it, sighing dreamily. You didn’t see anything saying you had to keep your hands to yourself, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. A hand came up to run a single finger along the rivets, bumping up and down at their protrusion. You gripped the side experimentally, loving the squish of the leather. You had never been a bag person; You used the same backpack for the entirety of college, purchased for $20 at Walmart. You had other bags, mostly to carry things from point A to point B, but this was different. This was- what did the fashion bloggers call their clothes? A piece. This was a piece, not just a purse. 

You were shaken out of your reverie by Noah walking over to you, peering at the bag curiously. “You ready?”

You let out a deep breath. It was absolutely a gajillion dollars, and you could not justify the expense. You turned to Noah, about to say an affirmative, when a new, large shopping bag caught your eye. 

You recognized the brand emblazoned across the bag as the same one from the window. Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Noah, what did you do?”

His grin was devilish. “Relax. It was actually only half a gajillion dollars, quite the steal if you ask me.”

You could feel yourself panicking. “What? No! Go give it back!” Your whisper was frantic. 

He was outwardly laughing at you now. “No.”

Your eyes widened further, incredulity coloring your tone. “No?”

He shook his head, leaning in close to you. “Nope.” Then, taking your hand in his, he happily walked back outside, ignoring the saleswoman’s call of “Come back again soon!”

You barely kept up with his long legs. “Noah, I do not need a gajillion dollar-”

“Half a gajillion, babe. Half.”

You huffed. “Whatever. I don’t need an expensive purse, it’s not fair for you to be spending that kind of money on me when I can’t repay it-”

“I can think of a few ways you could repay me.” He cut you off again with a wink. 

“Noah.” You stopped walking. He could hear the change in your tone, stopping to turn to look at you. “I can’t- baby I really appreciate it but I can’t-”

“Hey.” He said softly, coming up to look into your eyes deeply. “Hey. This isn’t about owing me or anything. There’s no need for that between us.” You nodded, the movement small. “I see you busting your ass. I see you working hard. I can see that you’ve had a shitty couple of weeks. So if I have to go back and buy you all the gajillion dollar purses in that store, I will do it. If it will make you happy, I will personally see to it that you get every gajillion dollar purse manufactured on this continent.”

You couldn’t fight off the smile at his words, so sincere and sweet. He kissed your forehead for good measure, offering his hand out to you. 

“If it makes you feel better, you can buy lunch. The lady in the store talked me into getting the matching quarter-gajillion dollar wallet, too.”

Your jaw dropped. “Noah Sebastian-”

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

*

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

*

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

*

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

*

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1@a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat

[magicfootballstuff]

Caramel Latte (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: a new customer starts coming into the coffee shop where you work and you're a little bit obsessed with her

———

You’re halfway through a Saturday shift when the four girls enter the coffee shop. The first three, all blonde, you think you recognise, semi-regular customers, but the last one is new.

You’d definitely remember if she’d been in here before. Dark hair and dark eyes, tanned skin, a septum piercing and a few subtle yet artful tattoos on her arms, she’s beautiful and exactly your type.

You’re so busy staring at her that you don’t realise her friends have approached the counter until one of them starts speaking to you.

“Uh, sorry,” you say, flustered to be caught distracted, though you can’t help but spare another glance for the brunette, who hangs back slightly from her three friends as she squints up at the menu board behind you. “Could you repeat that?”

You take the orders of the three blonde girls, though you can’t help but keep half an eye on the attractive brunette as you do, until it is her turn to order and she steps up to the counter.

“What can I get for you?”

“Uh,” the girl starts, frowning as her eyes scan the board behind you. “Caramel latte, please.”

Even in those few short words you can tell she has an accent. She’s definitely not from Manchester, not even from England, and you find yourself wondering what her story is as you put her order through the system.

“Anything else?”

“No thanks.”

You take a paper cup off the stack on the counter and pick up the sharpie next to them, then ask, “Name?”

The girl stares blankly at you.

“Sorry?”

“Your name,” you explain, holding up the paper cup in one hand and the pen in the other. “For the cup.”

“Oh,” she says, her cheeks tinging ever so slightly pink. “Leila.”

It suits her, you decide, as you scribble her name on the side of the paper cup and place it on the side next to where your coworker is preparing orders, then ring it up through the register.

“That’ll be four pounds sixty, please.”

She pulls a wallet out from the pocket of her tracksuit bottoms and fumbles around with some coins.

“Sorry,” she tells you, as she carefully counts out the right amount. “I just moved here. I’m still getting used to the money.”

“Take your time,” you reassure her, even though there are a couple of people standing in line behind her.

Once she’s got the right amount, she reaches across the counter to pay and her fingertips brush against your palm as she drops the money into your hand. Your breath catches in your throat and her eyes meet yours for a split second, but the moment passes as soon as it arrives.

“Thanks. Your drink will be ready soon.”

She rejoins her friends and you prepare the drinks for the four girls as your coworker takes over the register. If you were the main character in a rom-com, you would perhaps scribble your phone number onto Leila’s coffee cup with a cute little note asking her to call you.

But you’re not. You’re just a normal minimum wage employee from Manchester with too much social anxiety to shoot your shot with a gorgeous customer.

So when Leila’s coffee is ready, you call her name and pass it across the counter without your number, and if you shoot her a warm smile and wish her a nice weekend, it’s only because you’re doing your job and not because you fancy her.

———

Leila returns to your coffee shop a few weeks later, on a rainy afternoon in the middle of the week, and you perk up from an otherwise boring shift as soon as you realise it’s her. She’s dressed in warmer clothing than before, sweatpants and a thick padded coat. This time she is accompanied by just one friend, a dark-haired girl wearing a Manchester United hoodie, the pair having a conversation in what sounds like Spanish.

“Caramel latte?” you ask, when Leila steps up to the counter.

With an expression of mild surprise on her face, she tilts her head to the side and says, “You remember?”

“Of course,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s my job.”

You get hundreds of customers in here every day, some of them much more regularly than Leila, and you don’t remember most of their orders. Although, you must admit, none of the other customers are as pretty as Leila.

“To drink in or take away?” you ask.

“We’ll stay in this time,” says Leila.

“Of course,” you respond. “And what would your friend like?”

“Ona?” Leila says, nudging her friend and nodding at you.

“Oh, uh, cappuccino please,” says the friend.

You relay the order to your coworker, who starts to prepare their drinks, then turn back to Leila.

“Where did you move from?” you ask conversationally, as your put their order through the cash register.

“Sorry?” Leila asks, with a frown.

“Last time, you said you had just moved here. Where were you before?”

“Oh, Barcelona.”

So that explains the accent and the tan.

“Must be quite a shock,” you joke glancing through the window at the miserable Manchester rain.

“It is always raining here,” she agrees.

It falls silent between you and you curse your extreme lack of game, the fact that the presence of a hot Spaniard reduces your ability to flirt to merely making comments about the weather.

“Cash or card?” you blurt out, to fill the silence.

“I’ve got this,” says the girl in the United hoodie, pulling out her card and tapping it against the reader.

“I’ll bring your drinks over when they’re ready,” you tell the two girls.

You wonder if they’re on a date and feel a little bit jealous at the thought. When they pick a table and sit down, they immediately lean in closer and whisper conspiratorially with each other, and even if the coffee shop wasn’t too loud to hear what they’re saying to each other, you don’t know more than a few basic words in Spanish anyway. They definitely seem close, and you prepare yourself for disappointment, until they both turn at the same time to look at you, still in conversation.

And then, Leila’s friend grins at you and lifts a hand to send you a little wave. Leila immediately lunges at her friend across the table, grabbing her hand to stop her from doing anything else while saying something to her, and from the frown on her face and the animation as she talks, it seems from where you’re standing that Leila’s scolding her about something.

It’s a strange interaction, one that you’re almost certain is a conversation about you, but you don’t understand it.

You finish making their coffees and carry the drinks over to them, setting the tray down on the table between them.

“Leila wants to ask you something,” blurts out Leila’s friend.

You pretend not to see the way that Leila kicks her friend’s shin beneath the table.

“Okay,” you say, turning to Leila expectantly.

“I … uh…” Leila stammers. “Um, how much do the muffins cost?”

Leila’s friend immediately says something in Spanish - you catch the word idiota which doesn’t take a genius to translate, but the rest is a mystery to you.

“Oh, I think they’re about two quid usually but I can bring you one over for free if you like? My treat. Chocolate or blueberry?”

Leila blushes, and says, “Thank you. Chocolate.”

Judging by the grin still plastered across Leila’s friend’s face, she’s finding great amusement in the entire situation, so you turn to her and ask, “Do you want one too?”

“No thanks. Save your treats for Leila.”

“Ona!” Leila chastises her friend again, swatting her arm a little more forcefully than necessary, before she turns her head to look at you again with a smile and says, “Thank you. You are very kind.”

When you return with Leila’s muffin, she thanks you with a smile that disarms you and almost has you tripping over your own feet, much to the amusement of her friend, and you go back to serving customers with a slight pink tinge to your cheeks.

You keep glancing across at Leila, your eyes drawn to her as you work. A couple of times she catches your gaze, then looks away shyly, though each time you could swear that her lips twitch up into a smile.

You don’t talk to her again, but when Leila and her friend have finished their coffees and get up to leave half an hour later, the tiny wave goodbye that she sends you across the coffee shop is enough to keep you smiling for the rest of your shift.

———

Your interest piqued, you try to find Leila on social media that evening after work, but with very little luck. After all, you only have her first name and your search of ‘Leila Manchester’ on Instagram doesn’t bring any success. But when you switch to Google and add the word ‘Barcelona’ to your search, you can barely contain your excitement when the very first result is the girl you’re looking for.

Leila Ouahabi. Spanish footballer.

You switch to an image search and the fact that you’ve always had a bit of a thing for girls in sportswear is immediately confirmed by picture after picture of Leila in various football kits - the red shirt of Spain, in a striped Barcelona shirt showing off an enormous trophy, and in the familiar light blue of Manchester City.

With her full name, you’re now able to find her Instagram, where you’re met with more pictures of her playing football, but mixed in with photos of her looking effortlessly cool off the pitch too.

It’s not stalking, you tell yourself as you scroll. After today’s interaction, the spark of something between you that you’re sure you weren’t alone in feeling, and the weird behaviour of Leila’s friend (Manchester United’s Ona Batlle, or so your definitely-not-stalking tells you), it’s just curiosity. And so what if you’re mostly scrolling through her social media to look for the presence of a possible romantic partner that might put a dampener on your new little crush.

When you find no trace of a relationship, you try not to get your hopes up too high.

———

You hope that Leila will return for another coffee, though you’re mentally prepared that it might be another few weeks before you see her again, which is why it’s a complete surprise when she shows up the very next day.

“Hi, again!” you greet her, trying not to seem too enthusiastic at the sight of the Spanish footballer. Especially after you spent half the evening looking her up online last night. “Can I get you anything? A muffin, perhaps?”

You shoot her a teasing grin and she blushes, looking down at the ground.

“Sorry for being weird yesterday,” Leila says. “I’m not normally that awkward.”

You exchange a laugh, reassuring her with a smile that you don’t mind the awkwardness. You’re hardly the smoothest mover yourself, and you find Leila’s imperfections to be endearing, rather than a turn off.

“I have a confession to make,” you tell Leila, deciding to come clean about the fact that you know who she is. “I … I looked you up online. I was curious. You play football, right? Is that why you moved to England?”

“Yes, to play for City.”

“Lucky for you, my family are all City fans.”

“Mmm, yes, that is lucky,” she agrees. She chews at her lower lip, clearly nervous about something, then says, “I have a confession too. I didn’t just come here for coffee.”

“You didn’t?” you ask, as your heart does a little somersault in your chest.

“No, I…” She trails off, visibly flustered, then says, “Fuck, I’m much better at this in Spanish.”

“Better at what?”

“Can I have your number?” she blurts out. “I mean, do you want to maybe go on a date? That’s what Ona said I should ask you yesterday.“

“But you panicked and asked for a muffin instead?” you tease her.

“Can I use the excuse that English isn’t my first language?” Leila smiles at you hopefully.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you say, grabbing an empty paper cup and a pen, scrawling your number on the side of the cup - maybe you can have your rom-com moment after all. “One caramel latte coming up - this one’s on me. And yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”

[addisonstars]

"mornings with you"

written for day 29/30 of september for @jegulus-microfic with the prompts "permanent/draw"

565 words

Regulus had already gotten up by the time James had awoken. His side of the bed was cold and made, just like typical Reg. 

Feet quietly sounding on the hardwood floor, James walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he knew that Reg would be. He came up behind him and hugged his hands around Regulus' waist, fingers brushing the James tattooed right above his waistline, in between his hips. It was another permanent, not so subtle reminder that he was James’ and nobody else's. 

A while ago, Regulus had asked James to draw his name out for him on a little piece of paper. James didn’t question it, happily complying with whatever his husband wanted. But later, when Regulus came home with a new tattoo, James probably should have. Seeing James in black ink in that perfect sight had James drooling. 

It was all that James could do to shag him right then and there in their living room with Teddy, who they were babysitting for the afternoon, napping in the guest bedroom. However, James had enough self-control to wait until Sirius and Remus came and picked Teds up and they had left the driveway. Then, it was all over for him. 

“Good morning love,” James drawled, voice heavy with sleep. It was a noise that made Regulus weak in the knees. 

“‘Morning.” Regulus replied. He handed one cup of coffee to James, loaded with creamer and then kept the other one for himself, black. “Hey, Sirius called earlier this morning and he needs to watch Teddy again today. He should be over to drop him off in a couple hours. I already set up his crib, we just need to Teddy-proof the rest of the house.” 

James laughed. “”Kay love. And you're not gonna come home after work with another surprise like you did last time right?” He added, referring to the tattoo. 

It was Regulus’ turn to laugh. “Not unless you want me too, love.” 

James smirked. “Well, if you make any plans on a whim, call Sirius and Remus to pick Teddy up when you're done, so that way I don’t have to wait.” 

“Wait for what exactly?” Regulus asked, feigning innocence. 

Rolling his eyes, James said with total confidence, “Wait to fuck you upon every surface of this house. You don’t know how fuckable you looked with that tattoo. With my name, right there, just begging, pleading, for something. I think I’d take you first on the couch, start soft, then move-”

“James.” Regulus cut through his sex fantasy with a stern look. “Don’t start that this morning. I have to get to work and I really don’t want to be late because you're acting like a teenager who can’t control himself.” 

“It’s not my fault that you look like, well you, every day.” 

Regulus smiled and left to go to take a shower and get to work. Just as he was leaving the kitchen he called out to James. “Jamie! Teddy-proof the house while I’m getting ready please!” 

“I can’t join you today?”

Of course James would want to join Regulus in the shower, even though he just got onto him for not having self control. But alas, Regulus wasn't going to complain if James wasn’t. 

“Fine. But only because I love you.”

James hurried after Regulus, not wanting to waste any moment of his time.

well well, its the end of the month and the last day of september microfics! we made (i missed a couple days whoops, but i have a life lol) hope you guys enjoyed reading these!! i enjoyed writing them! i wont stick to any one specific ship next month, it'll be a whenever i want to type of thing lol. have a great rest of your saturday lovelies, take care. <33

-a.s.

[shieldofiron]

The Rose Tattoo

Mar 23 Harringrove week Prompt: “Did you keep the receipt?“

“Did you keep the receipt?” Steve quirks one brow at his boyfriend laid out on the bed. It was supposed to be another lazy Saturday afternoon, until Billy had torn his shirt off to show off Billy’s birthday gift to himself.

“For you?” Billy throws a pillow at Steve’s head, “No. You didn’t come with one.”

“I’ll write you one now,” Steve kneels on the bed, runs a finger along the waves that lap up Billy’s arm. This is his favorite of Billy’s tattoos. The anchor hangs in the water with a certain weight to it. Billy says it’s to remind him of the consequences of his choices. But it makes Steve think of how they hold each other, how Billy calls Steve’s place home.

Billy snorts, “One ungrateful boyfriend. Good hair. Bit of an asshole.”

Steve yanks the pillow out from under Billy’s head, “I’m not ungrateful. I just… like are you sure you want one for me?”

“Too late now,” Billy grabs for the pillow before Steve can smack him again, “You coulda said something before I did it.”

Steve can see the hurt behind the words now, the way Billy’s voice goes a little softer on the last two words.

“I don’t hate it,” Steve frowns, “I just didn’t know you were serious.”

Billy shrugs, “I didn’t get it to win you over. It’s just… for you.”

Steve reaches out hesitantly and touches the edge of it. A red rose in full bloom, in what he now knows is a traditional style. Underneath, in embellished lettering it says ‘Steve.’

Billy’s warm skin jumps under his hand. Steve skates his fingers gently along the edges. It’s over Billy’s chest on the left side. Over his heart.

“I mean… this means a lot,” Steve blinks.

Billy lays a hand over Steve’s, covering his pale, undecorated hand with Billy’s, where a strand of three Christmas lights loop down his wrist. That one is for Joyce and Jon and Will. On his right arm is an eggo waffle with arms and legs riding a skateboard. His Camaro bursts out of his forearm, accented by a spray of heather flowers. Billy’s whole body is a patchwork of the people who mean the most. So it wasn’t completely shocking that he suggested one for Steve. Still… Steve didn’t know he really meant it.

“Yeah. It does.” Billy frowns. “Does that scare you?”

Steve almost chokes on his breath.

Billy has a lot of tattoos. Some from when he was stupid and eighteen and thought they looked cool. Some he’s spent a lot of time thinking through. Some because he let El, Lucas, Erica and Max come up with them, which is how he ended up with a skateboarding waffle on his arm and a karate-kid my little pony cartoon on his calf.

“Doesn’t scare me,” Steve whispers. “I just… are you sure?”

Billy leans up on his elbows, catching all the afternoon sun up in his golden skin. “Steve. I won’t regret it.”

Steve traces the edge of the red rose again, “What if-”

Billy shakes his head, “No. I’m not keeping any receipts for you. If you want to return me, then…”

“I don’t want to return you either,” Steve frowns a little, “I love you. I just want to make sure I’m… you know. Worth it.”

Billy rolls over and pulls out the drawer to the bedside table, yanks out the stack of polaroids and flips through them before smacking one on Steve’s thigh.

It’s Billy, in his hospital gown, still dazed and confused a few months after Starcourt. He’s frowning at the camera, and there next to him is a bouquet Steve got for him, full and pretty, preserved in Kodak reds and greens. They hadn’t been dating then, but… they’d been something. Once they finally had a chance to talk.

“Dunno if I was worth it then,” Billy says softly, “But you still… did that for me. Always do shit like that for me. Even though you’re an asshole.”

Steve blinks down at it.

“I’ll wear you with pride to my grave, Steve,” Billy said seriously.

“J-Jesus,” Steve leans in, kissing him once, softly. And then he’s burying his fingers into Billy’s curls and tugging him closer until Billy’s crawling into Steve’s lap, “I love you. I love it. I love it, okay?”

“Yeah, you gonna get one for me someday?” Billy drawls, his lips dragging against Steve’s.

“N-not…” Steve laughs nervously.

“Just kidding, prettiest,” Billy smiles, and kisses him again. And then again. “You don’t put a bumper sticker on a beemer.”

Steve considers it then, a row of simple letters, in an easy to hide spot. Like his ass. B-I-L-L-Y. That would really surprise his boyfriend. Give Billy something to think about. He bets Eddie would ink it up pretty quick, in time for Billy’s actual birthday next week, and then Steve could tease Billy about his bumper sticker.

If he did, Steve wouldn’t keep the receipt.