#it looks like he's going to do something and then she beats him

[moonstruckme]

hi !! for sirius requests, what about a whimsical! reader x jealous! sirius?? i think it would be fun to think about what would cause it and whimsical! reader would probably be a little oblivious 🤔

if not, feel free to ignore! i love ur works 🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting angel !

cw: jealousy/possessiveness, Sirius losing it a bit, James and Remus being reasonable but also here for the drama, reader is hit on and is oblivious so I wouldn't call it cheating but beware if that's gonna be weird for you

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 955 words

“Sirius, mate.” There’s laughter in James’ voice, a hint of knowing humor. “You’re gonna break a tooth.”

Sirius unclenches his jaw almost reluctantly. He needs a physical outlet for his ire. If he doesn’t grind his teeth, he’s going to break the pint in his hand, he’s sure of it. 

“Can’t glare him out of existence either,” Remus hums, sounding altogether too smug. Remus finds endless amusement in Sirius’ torment, will likely recount it to you later so you can laugh at him together. Sirius makes a mental note to salt Remus’ coffee the next time he has opportunity. 

You’re a funny sight in the rowdy pub, lovely, resplendent, your long skirt with its grass stains a notable contrast to the jeans and trackies surrounding you. You slip between tables like a wood nymph, like a creature plucked from the next world. Sirius wishes he were the only one to notice, to admire you, but often he isn’t. 

You’ve been arrested on your way to the bar. It’s Sirius’ fault for not going to get your drink for you, really, but he wasn’t expecting some bloke to chat you up for so long you sat down with him. Now you’re all lovely and resplendent sitting at the bar with another man, and James is right—Sirius very well might break a tooth over it. His, or preferably someone else’s. 

“Oh god, this is really dire, isn’t it?” James whispers to Remus. He has terrible friends, Sirius thinks. He should get rid of them both. “He’s gone all quiet and broody.” 

“Mm. Might never speak again.” 

“You think?”

“If we’re lucky.” 

“Y/n seems rather fond of him speaking, though. Maybe she will run off with some other bloke then.” 

You smile at something the man says, and Sirius’ chair is shoved back before he knows he’s doing it. 

“Wait, wait.” James is laughing now, the prick. He reaches out to hold Sirius’ arm. “We’re only joking. She’s fine, mate, relax.” 

“I know,” Sirius says, clipped. “I’m going to get her so she can be fine over here instead.” 

Remus hums. “Seems like she’s beating you to it.” 

Sirius turns back around, and you’re headed towards them, smiling with four drinks in your hands. Four large, fruity-looking drinks. 

“Hi,” James greets you, eyebrows lifting, “are these for us?” 

“Mhm.” You set them down on the table, sliding one to each of the boys. “I’m not sure what’s in them, but I asked for something sweet. Is that alright?” 

“More than alright.” James nods enthusiastically, claiming his. “Thanks, lovely.” 

“Did you make a friend?” Sirius asks. He can hear the grit in his own voice, but you don’t seem to. Your head only bobs placidly. 

“Yeah. A man at the bar said he wanted to buy me a drink, but I told him I wouldn’t feel right about it if he didn’t get some for my friends, too.” You guide your straw to your mouth, sipping. “His name is Marty, he seems very nice.” 

“Is that what you called us, then? Your friends?” 

You look perplexed. “Well, James and Remus are my friends. Is that okay?” 

Sirius softens. “Yeah,” he says, tearing his gaze away from Marty to look at you. “Sure it is. C’mere, doll.” 

You know what he wants without asking, moving your drink before slipping onto his lap unquestioningly. Sirius slips his arms around your waist, thumb stroking near your hip. You turn your face so your words brush his cheek. 

“You’re my friend, too, you know,” you say, softly. “Even if you’re also my love.” 

That makes Sirius smile, ignoring the way James and Remus are murmuring and snickering with each other. “Yeah?” 

“Of course.” You touch his arm. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and you slip a finger inside one absently, running the circumference of his bicep. Little shivers of electricity crackle upwards from your touch. 

“Thanks, angel. I like that you’re my friend, too.” 

Conversation becomes easier after a while. Sirius finds he can talk with his friends, even laugh, so long as he keeps his hold on you and makes sure that every time Marty looks over at you, it’s Sirius’ eyes he meets instead. You seem oblivious to it all, the looking and the touching and the intermittent, silent fury that radiates off your boyfriend every time he remembers Marty making you smile, but after you’ve all finished your drinks you lean back and put your nose to Sirius’ cheek. 

“I don’t think,” you murmur, nosing at his stubble almost absently, “that Marty is going to buy us any more drinks if you keep looking at him like that.” 

Remus, overhearing, turns a smile into his glass. Sirius tries to act surprised. “Me? How am I looking at him?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” You deliver this news ever so gently, with a kiss to his jaw. “I don’t see why. He was nice to us.” 

“He was nice to you,” Sirius says automatically, some of the vitriol returning to his tone. He squeezes your hip just to feel the solidity of you in his hands. “I don’t think he’d have been quite so nice if he knew you had a boyfriend, sweetness.” 

Your brows come together. “Why not?” 

Oh, you’re adorable. Sirius kisses your frown, his fondness for you almost eclipsing his pique. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get our drinks from now on, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, dubious. “Though I don’t see why we’d turn down free drinks if someone wants to be kind.” 

“Let me be kind to you, doll. Okay?” 

You soften, your eyes going sweet and liquid. “You’re always kind to me.” 

Sirius kisses you again, grinning now. “Damn right.” 

[gf2bellamy]

Can you write about reader and Spencer’s wedding night and him helping reader take down her hair and wash off her makeup and take off her dress. And reader and Spencer being goofy and practicing calling each other husband and wife because they’re new titles that they’re so excited to use

wedding night — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader saying she's suffocating in her dress?😭 a/n: i hope i did your request justice !! <3 i hope you like it <333 ( i wanna be married to spencer so bad oh my god )

You stood behind Spencer, your fingers resting lightly against his back as you waited—not so patiently—for him to unlock the hotel room door. 

“Hurry up,” you huffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need to get out of this tight dress.” 

Spencer fumbled slightly with the keycard, mumbling something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you in first. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm ambiance over the space. Rose petals were scattered across the bed—a sweet surprise you hadn't expected—and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air. 

You barely had time to take it all in before Spencer turned to you, his eyes sweeping over you with the kind of admiration that made your breath catch. 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly. 

Something in the way he said it made your heart melt. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a statement filled with pure admiration, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. 

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you, Spencer.” 

But then you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “But you’re going to have to appreciate my beauty without it now because I’m about to suffocate in this dress.” 

You turned around, exposing the intricate lacework of the back, and pulled your hair to one side.

There was a brief pause before you felt his fingers graze the zipper at the top of your dress. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, and the warmth of his hands sent a shiver down your spine. 

He took his time, carefully pulling the zipper down inch by inch, revealing the bare skin of your back. His fingers brushed against you ever so slightly, and despite the fact that you had been with him for years—had just married him today—his touch still made you shiver. 

Spencer let out a quiet breath, and you swore you could feel the warmth of it against your shoulder. 

“You have no idea how breathtaking you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror across the room. His gaze wasn’t just admiring—it was adoring. Like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached back, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think I do,” you said, squeezing his fingers gently. “Because you always make me feel that way.” 

Spencer exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment. 

You smiled softly, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you and Spencer. But as the cool air hit your back from the half-open zipper, reality set in—you needed to get out of this dress completely and into something comfortable. 

Your eyes flickered around the room, searching for your bags. “Where did Penelope put our stuff?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Spencer. 

You were practically dreaming of slipping into one of his shirts—something soft, loose, and big enough to drown you in warmth. The thought alone made you sigh in relief. 

Spencer, still standing behind you, let his hand drop from your back, his fingers briefly brushing against your skin before he turned to scan the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot the neatly placed bags by the bed, courtesy of Penelope’s insistence on handling every little detail. 

Without a word, he walked over, unzipping one of the suitcases and pulling out a familiar button-down shirt. He held it out to you, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric. “Here,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. 

You smiled, taking it from him, your fingers brushing briefly. As he turned away to shrug off his suit jacket, you wasted no time in stepping out of the gown. The heavy fabric pooled at your feet, and you sighed in relief as the pressure around your torso was finally gone. 

Slipping Spencer’s shirt over your head, you felt instant comfort. It smelled like him—clean, warm, and familiar. The fabric hung loosely over your frame, the sleeves falling just past your wrists. You buttoned it up halfway before rolling the cuffs slightly, already feeling cozier than you had all night. 

By the time you turned back around, Spencer was standing near the dresser, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. 

You couldn’t help but admire him for a second—how even after all these years, just looking at him could send warmth fluttering through your chest. 

Spencer glanced up just in time to catch you staring, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You look good in my shirt,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. 

You grinned, hugging yourself slightly as you rocked on your heels. “I love your shirts. I think I might steal this one permanently.” 

You turned away from Spencer with a smile, heading into the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened in pure awe. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, staring at the luxurious space in front of you. 

Spencer, hearing your reaction, quickly pulled on something more comfortable before following you inside. “What—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the enormous bathroom. 

The walls were lined with elegant marble, a massive soaking tub sat in one corner, and a glass-enclosed rain shower took up nearly half the space. But what really caught your attention was the mirror—the biggest bathroom mirror you had ever seen. 

“I have never seen a bathroom this big,” you marveled, still taking it all in. 

Spencer chuckled softly behind you. “I think this is bigger than my first apartment.” 

Your gaze shifted to the countertop, and your heart swelled at what you saw. Lined up neatly beside the sink were a variety of makeup removers, cotton pads, and skincare essentials—things you hadn’t packed. 

“Oh my God,” you sighed happily, pressing a hand to your chest. “The girls are angels.” 

Penelope, JJ, and Emily must have planned this—always looking out for you, always making sure you had everything you needed. It was such a small gesture, yet it made you feel so loved. 

You reached for one of the makeup removers, ready to start wiping away the remnants of the long day, but before you could, Spencer stepped closer. 

“Let me help you,” he murmured, gently taking the bottle from your hands. 

You blinked up at him, a little surprised, but you didn’t protest. Instead, you let out a soft hum, leaning back slightly against the counter as he got to work. 

Spencer carefully poured the remover onto a cotton pad, then reached up, his fingers grazing your jaw as he began to wipe away the makeup with slow, featherlight strokes. 

His touch was so delicate—as if he was handling something rare and precious. His gaze was focused, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, and the warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent tiny shivers down your spine. 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips. 

“Spencer?” you murmured. 

His eyes flickered to yours, pausing his movements slightly. “Hmm?” 

A grin tugged at your lips as you stared at him, really stared at him. The man standing in front of you—the man who was so impossibly brilliant, kind, and completely yours. 

“You know you’re my husband now?” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you grinned at the word. 

Spencer’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. He resumed his gentle strokes, wiping away the last traces of your makeup before whispering, “Yes.” 

He tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the softest caress. 

“And you’re my wife now,” he murmured. 

Your heart melted. 

Hearing that word from him—knowing that it was real, that you were truly his and he was yours—made you want to throw your arms around him and never let go. 

You bit your lip, happiness bubbling up inside you like an uncontrollable wave. “Say it again,” you whispered. 

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hands still cradling your face. He leaned in, pressing the lightest of kisses to your forehead before whispering against your skin: 

“My wife.” 

Your stomach fluttered, and you grinned at the sound of it. Wife. You were his wife. 

Spencer paused for a moment, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. Then, without a word, he set the makeup wipe aside and reached up, his fingers finding the pins holding your hair in place. 

You sighed as he carefully pulled them out one by one, loosening the strands from the elaborate style they had been twisted into all day. His fingers worked through your hair, letting it cascade freely around your shoulders. 

When he was done, he ran his hands through it gently, smoothing it out before tucking a stray piece behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmured, his voice laced with something deep and fond. “Perfect.” 

You met his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of him—of you together, standing in this quiet moment as husband and wife. 

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You let your hands rest on his back, leaning into his warmth. 

“I think I could get used to this,” you whispered. 

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his embrace tightening slightly. “Me too,” he murmured. “For the rest of my life.” 

[littlelamy]

thinking about rafe being more involved with sarahs life after the baby and spending time with them and taking the kid to school or maybe picking the kid up and seeing reader who is a teacher and they flirt or maybe it’s parent teacher conference and rafe tags along with john b bc Sarah can’t make it and him and reader are cute and flirting

the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, painting golden streaks across the desks and scattering soft shadows on the floor. it was quiet now, the hum of kids long gone except for a few stray drawings left forgotten on tables and the faint creak of your chair as you leaned back, scanning through a pile of spelling tests.

the knock on your classroom door startled you, pulling you out of the mundane rhythm of grading. when you looked up, you expected john b, who had mentioned he’d be dropping by for the parent-teacher conference. instead, you saw him. rafe cameron.

rafe leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, the other gripping the strap of a sleek leather backpack. his usual cocky smirk softened into something more polite, almost uncertain, as his eyes swept the room before landing on you.

“hey,” he said, his voice low and warm, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged here but was trying anyway.

“hi,” you managed, your surprise fading into curiosity. “can i help you?”

“i… uh, i’m here for the conference,” he explained, stepping further into the room. “sarah couldn’t make it, and john b roped me into tagging along.”

you blinked, trying to reconcile the guy who had a reputation for being a little too reckless, a little too intense, with the man standing in front of you. “oh. yeah, of course. take a seat. john b should be here any minute.”

rafe nodded, sliding into one of the kid-sized chairs with an amused grin. “man, these chairs are tiny. no wonder kids are always squirming.”

you laughed, the sound light and unexpected. “yeah, they’re not exactly built for comfort. you’ll survive, though.”

he raised an eyebrow, leaning his elbows on the desk as he looked at you. “is that a challenge?”

before you could respond, the door swung open, and john b burst in, his usual whirlwind energy filling the room. “hey, sorry i’m late,” he said, dropping into a chair beside rafe without missing a beat. “traffic was insane.”

“it’s fine,” you assured him, pulling out the folder with their child’s name neatly printed across the front. “shall we get started?”

the conference itself was straightforward, mostly you going over their daughter’s progress, showing off some of her artwork, and sharing notes about her strengths and areas for growth. but every now and then, you felt rafe’s gaze on you, steady and curious, like he was trying to figure you out.

when the meeting wrapped up, john b stood, stretching. “thanks for taking the time. sarah’ll be thrilled to hear everything’s going so well.”

“of course,” you said, offering him a warm smile. “she’s a great kid. makes my job easy.”

john b nodded, then glanced at rafe. “you coming?”

rafe hesitated, his eyes flicking to you. “uh, i’ll catch up. i just have a quick question.”

john b smirked, like he knew exactly what was going on, but didn’t say anything as he left, leaving you and rafe alone.

“so, a quick question?” you prompted, arching an eyebrow.

he grinned, leaning back in his tiny chair. “yeah, just wanted to ask if you’ve always been this good with kids, or if it’s something you picked up over time.”

you tilted your head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “a little of both, i guess. i’ve always liked working with them. they’re honest, you know? no filter. keeps things interesting.”

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “yeah, i can see that. you’re… you’re really good at it. i mean, i could barely survive babysitting her for an afternoon, and you do this every day.”

you laughed, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. “it’s definitely not easy, but it’s worth it.”

there was a pause, the kind that felt like it held something unsaid, and then rafe stood, towering over the kid-sized desk. “anyway, i should let you go. but… maybe i’ll see you around?”

“maybe,” you said, your smile lingering as he made his way to the door.

but before he left, he glanced back, his smirk returning. “or, you know, if you ever need a break from grading papers, i’d be happy to grab a coffee or something. on me.”

you raised an eyebrow, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “i’ll think about it, cameron.”

he chuckled, giving you a small salute before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone in the golden light of the classroom, your heart fluttering in a way you hadn’t expected.

lamy's notes: i wouldn't mind doing more fics about rafe x teacher!reader! i hope you liked it!!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[chrissturnsfav]

can you pls write something about rapper!Chris spoiling singer!reader and when they get home her showing him how thankful she is???

⋆.˚✮ singer!reader is always grateful for rapper!chris' gifts

you’re sat in the passenger seat of chris' matte black maybach, window cracked just enough to let the cool la breeze play with your hair.

he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other tapping his thigh to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers—something unreleased that only you’ve heard. his voice rumbles low, cocky and effortless, rapping over the track as he glances your way with that signature smirk.

"we hittin' dior first," he says, leaning back like he owns rodeo drive itself. "then whatever the fuck else you want, baby."

you try to hide your smile, biting your lip, but he catches you. "why you actin’ shy now? i told you to wild out."

shopping with chris is never just shopping. it’s a whole scene. sales associates trip over themselves the moment he walks in, wearing chains and confidence. you stay close by his side, fingers lightly brushing his, even though you’re used to the attention by now.

he spoils you without a second thought—handing over black cards like candy, telling you to try on everything.

"you look fire in that," he says when you step out of the fitting room, voice low enough that only you hear. "but you already knew that, huh?"

you roll your eyes and chuckle, but your heart flips anyway.

bags fill the trunk by the time you're done, and when you finally pull back up to his mansion, your legs are sore from walking but your energy's still buzzing.

chris grabs all the bags himself, brushing off your attempts to help. "nah, i got it," he says, cocky but sweet. "you jus' look pretty 'n go inside."

inside, you kick off your shoes and follow him into the living room. he dumps the bags on the floor with a heavy thud, sprawling back onto the massive cloud couch.

you drop down next to him, curling into his side without thinking. "thank you," you mumble softly through an appreciative smile, toying with the hem of your top.

he lifts a brow, smirking like he’s about to tease you. "f'what? i ain’t do nothin'."

"for everything," you say honestly, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you always do too much for me."

"ain’t no such thing as too much," he scoffs. "you my girl. you deserve all that."

you sit up just enough to look him in the eyes, a little spark in your chest now. "yeah, but i mean it. i appreciate you."

he pauses, like he wasn't expecting you to get this serious, then breaks into that grin you love—the one that makes your heart skip.

"you’re sumthin’ else," he mutters, shaking his head. "but i fuck wit' it."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101

@chrissturnsfav ™

[daughterofthesunandtheatregod]

[She unintentionally flinched at the volume of his voice, pupils having shrunken for a bit before they went back to their original size, letting her arms fall limply by her sides. It’s not like he straight up yelled, but she’s understood that when mother spoke that way, it meant three different stages. “You’re only getting a warning this time” was stage one {1}, the tone Will had was “you’re crossing the line here” which was stage two {2}, so stage three {3} was uhm…]

[By the way her heart was beating she had expected something, having blinked once or twice to ensure he wasn’t seeing a woman in front of her, instead seeing Will. He just looked a little scared this time, little younger, too… The tears were making her vision blurry, she couldn’t make out much of his face, it was the way he quivered that gave away she wasn’t really there. It took another blink to see the present Will, seeing that she really wasn’t being fair, she wasn’t being fair at all.]

“… I’m sorry,” [she whispered the apology to him as thought that any moment he'd do something, almost sounding like a plead to not do it. It's not like he'd ever do something, not physically, but this wasn't her. This was her brother, who's still with her, this is Will.]

[Anything coming out of her mouth in an emotional state are things mixed together from years prior, none of it holds itself together in its respective timestamp, all coming out just to worsen the situation further.] "I know- I know, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that..." [The blood on her hands were from lives she lost, from the ones that were on the opposite side, some can assume it holds her own as well. ]

[It's not like she meant to sound as though- well, yknow what?]

[Just go back to be quiet, Archer... That's the best thing you're good at.]

-Open Starter-

[Will sits at his little desk in the infirmary, a desk covered in paper that looks wrinkled and folded and much less organized than the ones he usually makes nowadays, though they're still in his handwriting. The papers are stained with old blood from years ago, which is also different than the papers he usually is seen messing with.]

[There are also like three lamps in the room all turned on extremely bright and pointed right at him in contrast with the dark of night outside the infirmary as Will flips through papers, mumbling vaguely to himself, an opague water bottle by his side]

[He doesnt even seem to notice he has company in this room, less of a room and more just curtained off with dark light-blocking sheets]

(What do you do?)

Anyone can interact

Literally please I love any interaction

[casedclosedbye]

Bunny pt.1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Fluff to smut (in pt.2)

Wc: 2k

Summary: After a week-long mission, Bucky Barnes finally returns home to his girlfriend, who has a surprise waiting for him. In an attempt to playfully surprise him, she greets him dressed in a Playboy Bunny costume — the same outfit Bucky’s been affectionately calling her “Bunny” for months. Flustered and shy, she’s unsure of how he’ll react.

The sharp sound of the door creaking open caught your attention, and instinctively, you dropped the towel you were holding to the floor and turned towards the entryway. You had a hunch it was Bucky, especially with the soft thud of his boots on the hardwood floor, which you’d come to associate with his return after long missions.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. He’d been gone for a week, and you'd missed him like crazy. The constant texting and voice memos kept you going, but nothing beat seeing him walk through the door in person.

Then, you heard it.

“Bunny?” His deep, familiar voice echoed softly through the hallway as he stepped inside. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth in your chest suddenly heating up in a way that made you feel both excited and a little nervous. You hadn’t been expecting him to arrive home so early, and you had certainly not been prepared for what you’d been planning tonight.

You had been thinking of a little surprise for him, something fun and playful. But now that the moment had arrived, you felt a sudden wave of shyness wash over you.

“Back here, Bucky!” you called out, smoothing down the skirt of the outfit you’d chosen for the occasion.

You couldn’t help but glance nervously at the full-length mirror in front of you. You had pulled on your “surprise” outfit — one you’d ordered specifically for him — and you couldn’t deny that you felt a little self-conscious. The costume was the infamous Playboy Bunny look: a snug black bodysuit with a plunging neckline, paired with a white fluffy tail attached to the back. A black collar with a bow tie hung around your neck, and the matching bunny ears sat perkily atop your head.

You had chosen this particular outfit because of the nickname Bucky had given you — “Bunny.” He’d started calling you that after the two of you first met, playfully because of how soft and affectionate you were with him. The name had stuck, and now, it felt like something deeper, something only the two of you shared.

When you heard his footsteps getting closer, you rushed to adjust your ears in the mirror again. This was happening. You were about to face him, dressed like this. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, but you were doing this for him. Bucky had always made you feel beautiful, no matter what.

“Bunny, you in here?” Bucky’s voice echoed from the doorway.

You glanced up to see him standing there, his eyes already searching the room for you, looking worn from the mission but more than happy to be home. His dark blue shirt was slightly wrinkled, his hair tousled in the way it always was after he’d been on a mission, and a light sheen of sweat glistened across his forehead. But the moment his gaze landed on you, his face softened in a way that made you feel like the world had stopped moving for a second.

You froze. Your heart hammered in your chest as he blinked at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, before his lips curved upward into the most playful grin you’d ever seen. His blue eyes widened, looking you over from head to toe.

“You—” He paused, looking almost shocked, then smirked. “Is that for me, doll?”

You could feel your face flush with heat. You hadn’t been sure how he’d react, but you were quickly finding out. The confidence that had filled you earlier began to waver, and you started to feel a little bit exposed, especially when you saw his gaze linger on your curves in the most appreciative way.

“Y-yeah, it’s for you,” you stammered, not quite meeting his gaze, suddenly feeling like you were out of your depth. “I, um, I thought you might like it.”

Bucky took a slow step forward, his boots soft against the floor as he approached, never breaking eye contact with you. His smirk remained in place, but there was something a little more tender behind his expression now. He looked you over again, and you could feel him drinking in every inch of your outfit, his gaze almost possessive but not in an uncomfortable way.

“You look—” He shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief, and then let out a breath. “You look amazing, doll.”

You could tell that he was trying to hide how much he was already affected by your appearance, but his eyes betrayed him. There was an intensity there, something that made your heart race all over again.

“Y-you really think so?” you asked, barely above a whisper, twirling your fingers nervously in the fabric of your outfit. “I wasn’t sure... I mean, I know it’s a little... much.”

Bucky chuckled softly, shaking his head again as he took another step toward you. “Bunny,” he said with a low, gravelly tone, “You couldn’t be anything less than stunning, no matter what you wear. But this?” His eyes dropped to your outfit again, lingering a moment longer before he looked up at you with that same mischievous smile. “This is... wow.”

You couldn’t help but feel your nerves settle at his words. He always had this way of making you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, no matter how silly or embarrassed you might feel. It made your heart flutter with affection.

His hand reached out to gently lift your chin, coaxing your gaze to meet his. “You look perfect. Seriously.”

Despite the warmth spreading through your body, you couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out as more of a nervous giggle. “I—uh, I wasn’t really planning on... dressing up like this, you know? It just seemed fun.”

“Well, you definitely caught my attention, Bunny,” Bucky teased, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a thrill through you. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, making you shiver a little. “I’m just... surprised, I guess. Didn’t expect you to greet me like this.”

“Is that... a bad surprise?” You looked up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Not at all, sweetheart. It’s the best surprise. You’ve got me speechless.”

You felt your stomach do a flip, your shyness quickly fading as the atmosphere shifted between you two. The way Bucky was looking at you now wasn’t just admiration; it was pure adoration.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, taking a small step forward, “I thought maybe we could... I don’t know, celebrate your return?” Your hands twisted together in front of you as you tried to keep yourself from melting under his gaze. “I wanted to make you feel special.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “You always make me feel special, doll.” His hand found the side of your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But this... this is next level.”

You couldn’t hold back the soft giggle that escaped your lips as he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. He buried his face in your hair for a moment, breathing you in deeply before he spoke again.

“I have to admit,” he murmured against your hair, “I’ve missed you so much, Bunny. I’ve been looking forward to getting home to you more than anything.”

You melted against him, pressing yourself closer, feeling his warmth radiating into you. It was moments like this, when he held you and murmured those sweet words into your ear, that you realized just how much you meant to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the rough fabric of his shirt. “But I’m glad you’re back. And that you like... the surprise.”

Bucky tilted your chin up gently, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes searching yours. “I love it, sweetheart. I love you.” And then, his lips met yours in a kiss that was slow, sweet, and all-consuming.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t filled with desperation. It was the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could — a kiss that reaffirmed the bond between you two, the connection that had only grown deeper since the first day you’d met.

You pulled away slightly, breathless, but kept your hands resting on his chest, still a little shy but no longer self-conscious.

“So,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, “do you want to see the rest of the surprise?”

Bucky’s smirk returned, but this time there was a glint of something even deeper in his eyes. “You know I do.”

And just like that, you led him further into the apartment, knowing that the night was about to get even more exciting...

[queenshelby]

Neighbour (P.1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Warning: Corruption, DDLG, Teaching, Smut

Living next door to a famous actor had always been interesting for you and, even though he was married to a woman named Danielle, you couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be a part of his world.

Unlike your very religious parents, he was rather open-minded and you often spent time with his eldest daughter when she visited him, enjoying her free-spirited company.

Occasionally, you would be talking to Cillian too and it was recently that he found out about you having taken a liking in a local boy named Ethan. Ethan was a young man from church. At 20 years old, he was only one year older than you and was incredibly popular among the girls in your church group and in school.

You had first met him when you were out at the local farmer's market helping your mother sell her home-made baked goods. He was a student at your school and was helping his mother out as well. You had nursed a crush on Ethan for more than five years, but never said a word about it to anyone before that day, because you were shy, innocent and naive about the ways of the world. You had always been too nervous to talk to him.

In addition to that, you had no idea about what to do with boys as you were brought up strictly.  You had a very basic understanding of intimacy and that was based on the knowledge from your religious school and the books that the library stocked that your mother allowed you to read. But that knowledge was far from complete and your understanding was far from comprehensive.

After having finally watched some of Cillian's work, however, you became more curious and it was  only the other day that you had decided to take matters into your own hands and had finally come up with the courage to confide in Cillian, your neighbor, about your crush and your lack of knowledge about intimacy.

You felt a little bit uncomfortable talking to Cillian about it but you trusted him. He had always been welcoming and friendly and open, ever since your family moved next door to him a year ago.

He would often speak to you in a way only an experienced man his age could or tease you lightly to make you laugh, and you felt comfortable opening up to him.

You sat in your garden, the late afternoon sun warming the nape of your neck. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses filled the air. You fidgeted with the hem of your sundress, nervously testing the ground. "I think I want to date Ethan," you blurted out, avoiding eye contact. "But I want to learn about things first," you explained as Cillian, leaning against the fence separating the yards, gave you a soft smile and a reassuring nod.

His piercing blue eyes, full of intensity, were a stark contrast to your timid ones. "I mean, I don’t know what to do," you admitted shyly. "I don't know how to kiss him, or how to touch him, or what he'll want to do." Your cheeks flushed pink, and you looked down at your hands, twisting nervously in your lap.

Cillian's smile widened as he saw this and you felt even more confident that he would help you out. "Well, Y/N, that's something I can help with if you want.  I know all about these things," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I think I can teach you, but it'll take some time to get you ready."

You hesitated, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Teach me how?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart was beating out of your chest.

Cillian's eyes were like a shot of whiskey, strong and intoxicating, burning a hole into your soul. You could feel your body responding to his seductive gaze.

"Well, I could show you how to make a man feel good if you like," he said, his voice husky, his tone turning confident and suggestive. "I'll warn you now, though, it's not going to be like the books you read. It would be more physical, so maybe you should think about this before you agree to anything," he offered as he noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks and the way that your eyes were glued to his lips. He was obviously enjoying making you feel this way.

"Okay, I think I would like that," you agreed, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your voice.

Cillian's eyebrows raised as he glanced over at your front door and then back at you again. "Alright then, let me give you a quick taste of what we could do. Is your mother at work?" he asked and you nodded.

"She'll be back in a few hours," you replied.

Cillian's eyes widened as he smiled and nodded, "Well, that's enough time, so follow me," he offered as he moved forward, and you dutifully followed him inside.

After having offered you a glass of water, he took a deep breath and looked at you in awe.

"Come on, let's go upstairs to my bedroom," Cillian said, his voice warm and smooth like honey dripping off a spoon as he reached for a clean towel from the washing basket by the stairs and you wondered what this was for. 

"Uhm, okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You followed him up the creaky wooden staircase, the dim lights casting long shadows that danced on the walls. 

When you reached his bedroom, he smiled and you gave a little smile and shuffled your feet, - trying to keep your nervousness at bay.

It was a large space, with a king-sized bed in the centre, a large window that let in the soft glow of the night sky, and a bookshelf filled with books in one corner. You had never been in his room before and you were captivated by the scent of his cologne that lingered in the air. You could also sense a mild scent of sweat mixing with the pine fresh air that his cologne did not quite over power.

Cillian sat on the bed, his movements casual and unhurried as he placed the towel next to him. You stood by the door, your hands clasped together in front of you, and you gave a little smile and shuffled your feet, - trying to keep your nervousness at bay.

He patted the bed beside him, a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't be so nervous, sweetheart. Tonight, I'm just going to show you how to touch a man, alright?" he said as his eyes twinkled with a roughness that made you giggle. “Nothing more,” he reassured you and you were not quite sure what he meant by that.

“Do you mean, down there?” you asked, gesturing vaguely towards his lap, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Yes, down there," he chuckled, his voice gentle yet firm. "Do you know what that is called, down there?"  Cillian asked with a half-smile on his face as he gestured with his head towards his crotch.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Uhm, I think so," you murmured, your voice barely audible. You had read about it in books, heard whispers from your friend and seen things on the internet, but you had never been in this position before. 

"Can you say it?"  Cillian pressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You were not used to these kinds of conversations, and it made you want to hide under the covers.

"P-penis," you finally whispered, your voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Cillian smiled, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "Good girl," he said, his voice encouraging. "Although I prefer the word cock," he said with a cheeky grin on his face. "But we'll start with whatever you are comfortable with."

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your blush deepening. You had heard the word before, but never from someone in the flesh.

Cillian reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your wrist.

"Come and sit with me," Cillian said, his voice a soft murmur. He patted the bed beside him again, and you hesitantly took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough for him to gently tug you down next to him. The bed dipped slightly under your weight, and you sat stiffly, your hands folded neatly in your lap.

Cillian leaned back against the pillow, his eyes never leaving your face. "You are so beautiful, you know that, right?" he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as you nodded shyly while Cillian slowly unbuckled his belt. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the button on his jeans and then the zipper. 

"Now tell me, do you know what a man's cock is for?" Cillian asked, his voice gentle but firm. You nodded again, your eyes fixed on his face, afraid to look down.

"I-I think so," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. 

"Can you tell me?"  Cillian asked, his voice gentle yet insistent, his hand gently squeezing your wrist. You swallowed hard again, your mouth dry as cotton.

"Uhm, for, uhm...making babies," you finally managed to say, your voice barely audible. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to keep your eyes from darting to his crotch.

"Yes, well, that's one way to put it." Cillian's lips curved into a knowing half-smile. He shifted slightly, his movements deliberate and slow.

“But that's not all it is for,” Cillian said, his voice low andultry. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving yours. "Sometimes, it's just for fun," he added, his voice a low murmur that sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

"What do you mean?" you finally managed to ask, your voice shaky.

Cillian chuckled, a soft, warm sound that seemed to wrap around you. "I mean, sometimes, it's just about the feelings, the physical connection, you know?" he said, his voice gentle yet firm. He moved his hand from your wrist, only to gently grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Now tell me Y/N... have you ever seen a man's cock before?" Cillian asked, his voice still gentle, but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race.

You shook your head, your eyes still fixed on his face, your heart hammering in your chest. “No, I haven’t,” you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. You had seen body parts online but this was different, this was real.

Cillian smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's alright sweetheart. Tonight, I'm going to show you what it looks and feels like," he said gently, causing you to nod. 

"You're a bit nervous aren't you?" he asked softly, his voice gentle. His thumb swiped across your knuckles, the movement slow to make sure that you could see it. 

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to steady yourself. "A little," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "It's okay to be nervous but just know that I won't hurt you. I promise." His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

He reached over and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before he pulled back slightly. He then stood up to push down his jeans and boxers and then he sat back down, leaving just enough room for you to see his manhood.

"Come on, come here, don't be nervous, sweetheart," Cillian said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He patted the bed next to him again, and you scooted closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and you could smell his familiar scent, a mix of soap and something else that was uniquely him.

"It's okay, you can look at it," Cillian encouraged, his voice soft and patient. You took a deep breath and let your eyes drift downwards, taking in the sight of him.

He was hard and big, and you felt a pang of nervousness in your stomach. 

"Why is your cock hard?" you asked, your curiosity briefly overriding your nervousness. Cillian smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"It's called being aroused, sweetheart. It means I'm excited . It's a natural response to certain thoughts and feelings, and maybe to having you around, too." he replied, his voice gentle yet firm.

"Now give me your hand " he said and you hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But you saw a different side to Cillian on him being so patient and gentle this made you want to trust him. You reached out your hand, your fingers trembling slightly as you placed it in his. He took your hand and gently moved it towards his manhood, his grip firm yet reassuring. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax," Cillian murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and let your hand rest gently on him, feeling the smooth, velvety skin beneath your fingertips.

"Now, gently stroke it up and down, like this," he said, his voice soft and patient. He guided your hand in a slow, rhythmic motion, his eyes never leaving yours. His length heaved and his body tensed so slightly that it wasn't even noticeable to someone else. He continued to guide your strokes, showing you the pace and pressure.

This was so new and strange to you. But you felt safe under his guidance. The room was quiet save for the faint humming of the streetlights outside your window and the soft rasp of your breaths. You could sense Cillian's breath steadying to match your rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, his smile more indulgent. You shivered at being looked at like that.

"This is nice isn't it?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble. You nodded wordlessly, your cheeks flushed a pretty rose color and you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest.

"Keep going, like that," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own pleasure.

You took that as a cue and continued your gentle strokes, your eyes fixed on his face, watching as his features tightened with pleasure. The room air was now thick, and so was the weight of the moment.

"I find it hard to tell you how good this feels," Cillian groaned. His voice was a low, husky whisper.

He reached out to brush a lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear you didn't know what to say to that, so you kept moving.

"That's good, Y/N. It feels nice. You have really soft hands," Cillian said and you could feel his body tense beneath your touch, and you marveled at the sensation of power that surged through you.

"Almost there, sweetheart," Cillian murmured, his voice ragged with desire. He reached down, his hand covering yours, guiding your strokes with a firmer grip. "Just like that, baby. Keep your eyes on me. I want you to see what you do to me."

You met his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of innocence and newfound confidence. You saw the raw desire in his eyes, and it made your heart race even faster. Your hand continued to move, guided by his.

"That's a good girl," Cillian breathed, his voice hoarse with pleasure. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, nervousness, and a sense of empowerment that you had never felt before. You marveled at the power you held over him in that moment, the way his body responded to your touch.

Cillian's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his breathing becoming more ragged. "Just like that, sweetheart. Don't stop," he murmured. His eyes were now closed, his lips slightly parted, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of him losing control.

Some strange clear  liquid was already seeping from the tip of his cock, and you watched in fascination as it glistened in the soft light of the bedroom.

Cillian's grip on your hand tightened even more, his body tensing beneath your touch. "Y/N, I'm close," he warned, his voice a low growl as he opened his eyes, locking on to yours and you had no idea what he meant by that.

"That's it. Keep it going," Cillian’s voice a hoarse whisper as he closed his eyes once again, his grip on your hand tightening even more as you felt his shaft throb beneath your fingers.

You felt a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness. The room was quiet and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breaths and your own heartbeat. Cillian’s body tensed and you could see the strain of pleasure in his face. His eyes remained closed to savor the moment. "That feels so good," he groaned, his voice strained.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, his body trembling beneath your touch. "Don't stop, sweetheart.

We're almost there," Cillian panted, his voice laced with urgency and pleasure. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. You bit your lip, your eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, but you kept your hand moving, guided by his grip.

Cillian's breath hitched, and his body tensed even more. "That's it, Y/N. Just like that," he urged, his voice strained. You could see the muscles in his jaw clench, his lips parting slightly as he let out a low groan. You felt a sense of power and curiosity, wanting to see what would happen next.

However, what happened next surprised you as you felt a sudden warmth and wetness on your hand, and you gasped in shock, your eyes widening as you looked down at Cillian's body.

A thick, white fluid pulsed from him, coating your hand and his length, and you quickly pulled back, a mixture of surprise and curiosity washing over you. 

Your eyes darted to Cillian's face, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, and his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the moment.

"You did good, sweetheart," Cillian murmured, his voice low and husky. You watched as he reached for the towel he had placed next to him earlier, using it to gently clean himself and your hand.

"What was that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"That, sweetheart, is what happens when you make a man feel really good ," Cillian said, his voice still a bit ragged from his exertion.

He sounded pleased, his eyes still closed, as if savoring the aftershocks of his pleasure.

"It's called cum and you made that happen," he added, a hint of pride in his voice.

Cillian’s eyes finally opened, and he looked at you with a soft, almost tender gaze. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment on your cheek.

"So I made you feel good?" you asked, your voice soft and curious. You were still processing everything that had just happened, your mind a whirlwind of new sensations and emotions. You had felt a sense of power, of control, but also a deep sense of vulnerability. You felt a burning heat on the inside of your cheeks and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You had never felt so close to anyone, so intimately connected.

Cillian smiled, his eyes warm and gentle. "Yes, you did. It felt amazing and I think that, maybe next time, you could take my cock into your mouth," he said , his voice soft and gentle, like he was coaxing a wild animal. You flushed deeply, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The thought of taking him into your mouth made you feel both curious and nervous. You had never done anything like that before, and the idea was both thrilling and terrifying.

Cillian must have seen the unsure look on your face as he quickly added, "But only if you want to. There's no rush, sweetheart. We'll take things at your pace, okay?"

His voice was reassuring, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and trust in him.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22 @meadows5 @randomcreator-09

[maretinelli]

MIDNIGHT TALKS

Lewis Hamilton X Bride!fem!reader

Summary: When rainy night bedtime conversations are the best between Lewis and his fiancée.

Words: 2.4K+

Warnings: I don't think anything too alarming, just laughter, cute couple and romance.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories on my profile. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

It was as if God had made them for each other. And they were both certain that they were definitely soulmates who were destined to live together and love each other unconditionally. They had a partnership, a love, a fondness for each other that went beyond words. Something that no one could describe, because it was something unique. Something that was theirs.

That night, as winter battered the city with cold winds and incessant rain, they lay together, protected by a nest of blankets. The sound of the rain beating against the bedroom window brought a unique comfort, filling the comfortable silence between them.

Y/N adjusted the sleeve of the baggy sweatshirt she was wearing. The sweatshirt was actually Lewis's, but for some reason, it felt more like it belonged to her now. He smiled, pulling her closer.

"When we have a daughter, I'd like to name her Isla. What do you think?" Y/n asked, staring at the window, where drops were running down the glass.

Lewis made a sound that didn't entirely approve of the idea. "Do you have any other options? I don't think I like this one very much."

Y/n turned her face towards him, laughing. "What do you mean? Isla is cute!"

"Yeah... but it's literally "island" in Spanish. It looks like we're going to call it a stretch of land surrounded by water."

"You're impossible." She rolled her eyes, but the smile was still there. "Isla is a pretty, sophisticated name."

"Well, then if we have a boy, we can name him Lewis. Fair enough."

Y/n let out an exaggerated sigh. "And your ego strikes again."

Lewis chuckled softly before leaning in and burying his face in her neck, breathing in deeply. Her scent was a soft mix of vanilla and something purely hers. It was so familiar and comforting that it felt like a home he always wanted to return to. The warmth of her skin against his made his smile soften, as if in that moment nothing else in the world mattered.

"Okay, now tell me... If you weren't Lewis Hamilton, who would you be?"

He looked up at her in confusion before laughing. "Uh, I don't know. My mom would probably have found another name for me."

Y/n patted his chest lightly. "I worded that a little wrong. I meant... If you weren't a Formula 1 driver, what would you be?"

Lewis smiled. "Ah, much better now." He smiled, pretending to be more interested in the new version of the question. "Hm... maybe a musician? I've always liked music. Or something that would make me travel a lot... But I doubt I'd be happy without a race car."

"Oh, so you'd be a traveling singer? Like a modern-day troubadour?" She joked, biting her lip to hold back a laugh.

Lewis laughed out loud. "Now that you put it like that, it doesn't sound so cool..."

Soft laughter filled the room before Y/n looked down at her own hand, where her engagement ring glinted softly in the dim light of the lamp.

"I wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid, you know?" She said thoughtfully. "But in the end, I went to college to study physical therapy."

Lewis turned to face her, a smile forming on his lips. "That explains why you walk so gracefully...or why you can make me stretch without me noticing."

She laughed. "Yes, Lew. That's always been my secret plan. To make a seven-time world champion racer stretch like a ballerina."

"It worked, so congratulations."

The two laughed together, and Lewis took the opportunity to pull her closer. He left a tender kiss on her hair and sighed.

"You know... I imagine us being even happier when we're married. More trips together, more moments like this... maybe another dog running around the house." The pilot says, stroking his bride's hair.

Y/n smiled shyly and snuggled against the sweatshirt he was wearing, as if she wanted to hide her face.

Lewis chuckled softly, finding it adorable, and held her closer, whispering fondly, "You know I love all this with you, don't you? There's nothing in the world I want more."

She lifted her face just enough to look him in the eyes, her heart warming at his words. "I know..." She murmured, smiling lovingly.

Lewis chuckled, stroking her hair tenderly, feeling his own heart overflow with love. Y/n wrapped an arm around Lewis's stomach, enjoying his cozy warmth.

She then smiled against her sweatshirt, "Did you know that when I first met you, I thought you were going to be boring?"

Lewis's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard, before letting out an incredulous laugh. "What?! What do you mean?"

"I swear!" Y/n laughed along, lifting her head to look at him. "You always had that super serious look in the garage, like you were about to fight someone. I was afraid you'd ignore everything I said."

Lewis blinked a few times before laughing even harder, shaking his head. "So you're saying my 'relaxed face' scared you?"

"Exactly!" Y/n joked, holding back her laughter. "But after we were introduced, I realized you were a lot less intimidating than you seemed... I mean, at least when you're not in the car."

Lewis chuckled and raised an eyebrow before teasing her, "Well, my first impression of you was quite different. All I could think about was how beautiful you were and how much hotter that white team t-shirt made you look."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

He laughed and continued, amused: "But look, if I knew you thought that about me in the beginning, I don't think I would have even gone to talk to you." The fake tone of indignation made Y/n let out a loud laugh.

Without thinking twice, she lightly patted his chest, through his sweatshirt. "Stop being so dramatic, Hamilton! You know I love you now."

He smirked, his eyes shining. "And that's what matters."

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes again, and snuggled closer to him, feeling his chest vibrate with another low chuckle. She knew that, despite the teasing, Lewis loved knowing that, from the beginning, they were destined to meet—even if there were a few wrong first impressions along the way.

Lewis sank his fingers into Y/n’s hair, tracing soft circles against her scalp as his voice came out in a calm tone. “What was the exact moment you realized you were in love with me?”

Y/n chuckled softly, feeling her face heat up at the memory. "Ah, I remember perfectly..."

Lewis smiled as he noticed how her cheeks flushed, and that only made him want to hear even more. "Tell me" He encouraged, his voice thick with curiosity and affection.

Y/n sighed, hiding her face for a moment before looking at him. "It was that day... after the race at Silverstone, when you narrowly missed the podium. I walked into the physio room and there you were, sitting on the bench, looking so exhausted and frustrated. I knew you hated losing, but... instead of complaining, you simply looked at me, smiled tiredly and said, 'At least I have you here.'"

Lewis blinked slowly, surprised by the memory. "Did I say that?"

"Yes, I did." Y/n chuckled softly, biting her lip. "And in that moment, I knew. It didn't matter if you won or lost, if you were on top of the world or having a bad day... I just wanted to be by your side."

Lewis stared at her for a moment before smiling, his heart squeezing in a good way. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you again? Because it's working."

Y/n laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around her body. "Your turn, Lew. When did you realize you were in love with me?"

He chuckled softly, thinking for a moment before answering, "Well... I knew you were the love of my life the day Mercedes hired you as a physical therapist."

She raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Oh, stop..."

"I'm serious!" Lewis laughed. "I walked into the garage and saw you there, in that team uniform, talking to someone. I thought to myself, 'Shit, if this woman takes care of my physique, I'll never be able to concentrate on racing again.'"

Y/n laughed in amusement, "You're terrible!"

He laughed, then lowered his tone a bit, becoming more serious. "But if you want a real moment... I think it was the first time I got sick and you showed up at my house with soup and a million medicines. Not because anyone asked you to, but because you wanted to take care of me."

Y/n smiled, feeling her heart warm. "You looked like a baby with a cold, I needed to help."

"And that's when I knew I would never want anyone else taking care of me again." He said softly, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/n swallowed hard, surprised by his sincerity. Without saying anything, she approached and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before slipping back under the covers, hiding her face against his sweatshirt.

Lewis laughed, finding her reaction adorable. "No need to be shy now, love" He joked, pulling her closer and leaving a kiss on her hair.

And there, with the soft sound of rain filling the room, they knew that in any life, they would always find their way back to each other.

Lewis traced lazy circles on her back, his touch warm and comforting. “Do you think if Mercedes hadn’t hired you, we would still have met?”

Y/n looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I guess so," she said softly. "I believe that when two people are meant to be together, God always finds a way to bring them together. Maybe I wouldn't be your physical therapist, maybe I wouldn't even be in the paddock... but somehow, our paths would cross."

Lewis watched the calm way she spoke, her eyes shining with conviction. "Like... if you were a doctor in a hospital and I had a bike accident, would you be there to take care of me?" He joked, arching an eyebrow.

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes. "Exactly, but I hope you don't have to fall off your bike to find me."

Lewis laughed along and tightened the hug. "I like to think that. That somehow we would always find each other."

She smiled against his sweatshirt, sinking deeper into his embrace. Comfortable silence filled the room again, interrupted only by the rhythmic sound of the rain.

Until, out of nowhere, Y/n let out a laugh.

Lewis frowned and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Y/n sat up a little on the bed, still laughing, and looked at her fiancé. "I just remembered that day in the paddock... when you tried to get on Toto's scooter and almost fell in front of everyone."

Lewis's eyes widened before he threw himself back, covering his face with his hands. "Oh no... you remembered that?!"

"How could I forget?" Y/n laughed. "You tried to do that all-knowing pilot pose, but then the scooter jerked and you ended up on the ground."

Lewis grumbled, the embarrassment returning as if it had happened yesterday. "And the worst part is that you didn't help at all! You just kept laughing at me!"

Y/n was already laying on his stomach now, laughing breathlessly. "Because it was hilarious!"

Lewis shook his head, but couldn't help but laugh. "I swear I tried to look cool..."

"Failed miserably" She said, wiping a tear from her eye. Lewis sighed dramatically, but laughed along.

After a few seconds, Y/n took a deep breath, finally catching her breath. She lay back down next to him, her head resting on Lewis's arm as he wrapped her in his embrace once more.

This time, silence returned uninterrupted, only the soft sound of rain tapping against the window. The entire room seemed enveloped in a rare kind of peace, where the simple fact of being together was enough.

"Lew, think about it..." She begins, in a thoughtful tone. "What if the clouds are actually giant pieces of cotton candy? But they don't want us to know because if we found out, everyone would want to eat them?" Y/n spoke with the utmost seriousness in the world, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Lewis blinked a few times, processing the absurd theory, before letting out a loud laugh. "Wait a minute... so, according to you, NASA is hiding from us that the sky is a sugary amusement park?"

"Exactly! Can you imagine? They must have cotton candy machines in space to replenish the clouds from time to time!"

Lewis shook his head, laughing. "Okay, conspiracy genius... what about the little birds? Are they spies too?"

Y/n arched an eyebrow dramatically. "That's not even a theory, it's a fact! You've never seen a baby pigeon, have you noticed? They just appear as adults on the street. Because they're government monitoring robots."

"Oh my God, I'm going to marry a lunatic" Lewis said, rolling around in bed laughing.

"Not only are you getting married, you love me!" She retorted, laughing along and poking her fiancé in the ribs.

The laughter took a while to stop. They always had this way of dividing their neurons, creating jokes that only made sense to them. And that was exactly what made them so unique.

Lewis sighed, pulling Y/n closer, nuzzling his face into her neck. "You know what? I knew for sure that I wanted to marry you that day..."

Y/n looked up, curious. "On the day of the proposal?"

"Yes. My whole life, actually." He smiled against her skin. "When you looked at me and started crying before I could even say anything. I realized you were my better half, Y/n. Always have been."

Her heart raced. Y/n smiled shyly, hiding her face in the sweatshirt he wore, the way she always did when she was emotional.

Lewis chuckled, finding it adorable, and kissed the top of her head. "And I think I already know the perfect name for our future daughter."

Y/n looked up, curious. "Which one?" Her eyes lit up, thinking her fiancé was serious.

The pilot smiled, tightening the hug. "Cotton."

"LEWIS!"

His laughter echoed through the room, mixing with the sound of the rain on the window. Y/n lightly slapped his chest, but couldn't contain her laughter.

Because, in the end, life with him would always be like this: Full of jokes, nonsensical theories and love. Lots of love.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 14, Silence after the storm

Masterlist Word count: 1.7 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Homestretch baby! Just the epilogue left. Thank ya'll for reading this story, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments. I love you all so fucking much <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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'As much as I love that you stood up for yourself. You can't just go around punching your ex square in the jaw.' Sylus looks like a kicked puppy sitting on the bench behind bars. His looks already tells you that he knows, he just doesn't want to admit it. 'Anyway, Zayne is paying your bail.' 

'You shouldn't let him do that.' 

'Sylus, baby, I love you, but you know I have no control over that man. He was already filling in the paperwork by the time I fully understood what happened.' As if on que, an officer walks over and unlocks the cell door. 

'Alright, get out,' he grumbles as he gestures for Sylus to make haste, 'your bail is paid and from what I can tell, that woman isn't pressing charges.' 

'Good, then can I press charges,' Sylus questions the man as he walks out of the cell. That surprises the officer. 

'What for?' 

'Did you watch the security footage?' The officer shakes his head. 'She attacked me first and I have it on file that she has attacked me before. I want to press charges and file for a restraining order.' 

'O-okay,' the officer stutters, 'follow me.' Sylus takes your hand and drags you along. You feel like you're gleaming. You've never been prouder of anyone in your whole dang life. It is so inexplicably hot to see him take his power back like this. 

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The drive home was tense. Incredibly so. It might've had something to do with Sylus’ hand between your thighs while he was driving your car, or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact you told him he could do anything to you when you got home. You know, as a treat for being such a brave boy. 

By the time you got home, you were dripping wet and the tent in Sylus pants was undeniable. That's when he asked it. 

'You said I could do anything to you. Would you suck me off on camera?' 

'To post?' 

'Yes,' he answered quickly, a sly smirk on his lips as he took your jaw in his hand, 'you face doesn't have to be in it, but I want to show people how happy you make me. And maybe to claim you a little.' 

“Be still my beating vagina.” 

And now you are on your knees in front of Sylus. The whole thing looks an awful lot like the video he made when he first met you. 

Sylus on the edge of his bed, phone on the dresser recording, him fully clothed but some loose buttons on his shirt and his dick out of his pants. Only this time his head is in frame and only the top of your head is in it. Feels like a very strange full circle moment. 

'Take your shirt off for me, sweetie.' His voice is a rumbling command, which you had expected. He portrays himself much more dominant than he actually is, yet you can't help but give him the brattiest look you can muster up. He smirks and runs a hand through your hair, grabbing it tightly in the back and lifting a little. You quickly move with his motion as he tilts your had back. 'Are you gonna play nice for me?' 

Shit, that's so fucking hot. You nod as frantically as you can with his hand holding your hair. Since you didn't really want your likeness on the internet in this way, you agreed you wouldn't have to speak. 

He lets go of your hair and you sit back on your heels. His eyes never leave yours whiles you take your shirt off. 'Loose the bra.' You do as he says. 'Good girl.' This experience is already mouth and pussy wateringly good. You sincerely hope he'll take this role more often if you ask him to. 

'Well, what are you waiting for?' And even in this role, he tells you he's consenting but giving you all the power and looking at you expectantly to see your answer. It is the hottest thing and makes your stomach tingle. 

You move your mouth to his tip and press a kiss on top. He physically shudders, but tries to hide it a little. Then, you lick a stripe on the underside of his dick from the base to the tip, licking up his precum. He groans and puts his hand in your hair again. 

'Are you teasing me?' You don't answer, don't nod, you just bat your eyes at him looking oh so innocent. Before he can say anything else, you blow on his tip. The air out of your mouth feels razor sharp over his moist dick. Surprised, he lets out a whine, and then he looks back at you with fire in his eyes, daring you to do something else, screaming: "Try me." 

And you do. You move to his lower stomach, just next to his V-line, and bite down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to elicit a hiss from him. In response, he pulls your head back, grabs your jaw with his other hand and forces it open. 

'That's enough, sweetie,' he states, 'choke on it.' Once again, there's a hint of question in his lust blown eyes. When you nod the slightest bit, he pushes you down on his cock, hitting the back of your throat in one swift movement. He holds you there for a while, still searching your eyes for any sign of wanting to back out. Instead, you try to force him down a little further until you feel yourself start to gag and his dick start to twitch. 

That's when he pulls you off. You take one look at him and know that he is already close. His ears and cheeks are bright red, pupils blown, breathing heavy. 'Go ahead, sweetie. You know what to do.' You nod again and slide one hand up to his chest, the other wrapped around the length that doesn't fit in your mouth as you start to set a steady pace. 

He takes the hand on his chest and presses a kiss to your fingertips. Strings of moans and groans start to fill the room as you tether him closer and closer to the edge. 'Come on sweetie, I'm almost there,' he whines, desperately chasing his release. 

You hollow out your cheeks and grab the hand in your hair with the hand that was around the base of his dick. He looks down at you questioningly, but quickly gets what you're getting at. 

"Use me." 

He starts bucking his hips into your mouth, forcing your head against him until you're almost swallowing him. It's a beautiful sight, slightly blurred by the tears stinging in your eyes. It takes mere seconds for him to fall over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth, but you hold it open, ready to take his release. 

'Shit, that's hot,' he comments quietly as you take all of his seed and swallow it. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he leans down again and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. 'Thank you,' he breathes against your lips. His arm moves past you to stop the recording. Then, he guides you to come sit on his lap. 'Do you want aftercare or do you want more?' 

'Sylus,' you croak, not realizing the damage you've just done to your throat, 'that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You're crazy if you think I want to stop here. Do you want aftercare?’ 

'Why would I want aftercare?' 

'Because you just forced your dick down my throat for the first time and I can imagine you might feel a little bit bad after that.' He smiles and pulls you against him, strong arms engulfing your body. 

'The only aftercare I need is returning the favor,' he whispers in your ear. 

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"Returning the favor" he said. Yeah, because one orgasm is synonymous with five. Four from his tongue and the last one with his dick. If you were croaking after that blowjob, you were surely croaking after all that. Sylus is not completely dominant, but if he were he'd be a fucking pleasure dom for damn sure. That man enjoys your orgasms more than you do. 

It's deep in the night, you are both spend. Sylus has his head on your shoulder, limbs entangled with yours as you run your hand through his hair and occasionally press kisses on his head and forehead. Soft conversation flows freely, waiting for either of you to fall asleep while both being too wired from the activities. 

'Does the "do anything to you" still count,' Sylus asks out of nowhere. You can tell there's something on his mind that he's been wrecking his brain over. 

'Depends.' 

'On?' 

'What you're about to say.' He takes a moment to consider what he's going to say and how he's going to say it. His arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer to him. Whatever he wants to discuss is something he is quite nervous about. 

'With all the steps I'm trying to take, I realized I forgot about one thing,' he starts. His mumblings soft, barely audible. 

'What's that?' 

'I realized I never asked you to move in with me.' The world stops for a second, Sylus’ heart beats out of his chest waiting for you to respond. Only for you to start giggling. He's confused, hurt. Is this rejection? 

'So you're going to make me move in with you?' He chuckles, understanding the humor in the situation. It's almost like a slap in the face. He was so sleep drunk that he almost forgot he started this conversation with the "do anything to you" line. 

The giggling dies down and you feel his hands caress the naked skin of your body, desperately awaiting your reply. 'Sylus, my apartment is basically a storage unit at this point. I'm already living with you. But, if you don't mind moving again, I'd like a place that's a little bigger if you are sure about this.' 

'I would move anywhere for you. I'll adapt to any place if you're there with me.' 

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[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[sirhamburrger]

BREAKING NEWS: CHART-TOPPING ARTIST YN LN PUBLICLY DISSES PXG STAR PLAYER AFTER HISTORIC VICTORY AGAINST BASTARD MÜNCHEN?!

after #JusticeForPXG starts to trend on most major social media platforms within a mere two hours, you receive an email from their manager. they… want you to perform before their match against the ubers? for a horrifying moment you’d thought your career might actually end over an offhand comment, but it seems you’ve been thrown a lifeline.

well, so much for that lifeline, because you’re pretty sure you trample all over it and set it on fire when, during your performance item three evenings later, a photo of none other than rin freaking itoshi appears on the big screen -

and the flash of a thousand cameras captures the very moment you roll your eyes in front of ten thousand people. and the whole internet.

you grimace when you step off the pitch and head back to the holding area, still panting from the exertion of the set. as the players stream out from their locker rooms, you brush against someone’s elbow, and as you turn a second later to wish the teams luck, you notice the man of the hour himself staring back at you.

and you really hate that you might care what he thinks about you.

---

“look,” aiku snickers, pointing at the screen in the locker room. “it’s your favourite bm fan.”

“it’s not even that funny.” rin tightens the laces on his cleats a little too aggressively to punctuate his sentence.

but he’s thinking: does she really hate him all that much?

“i’m pretty sure sendou dated her at some point,” karasu chimes in, rather unhelpfully.

“no way,” aiku says dismissively and more than a little seriously. “she’s waaaaay out of his league. she’d have to be blind - or really, really desperate.”

“get out of my player’s head, aiku.” julian loki pulls his jersey over his head, shooting the ex-u20 captain a withering stare. “or is it because you know you don’t stand a chance against us?”

“casse toi!” charles pipes up.

rin groans.

---

pxg wins that evening. you can’t even say you’re surprised - you knew, somehow, that it would turn out like this.

and here’s how the rest of it goes:

you tell yourself you’re going to leave the stadium quietly. slip out before anyone can get another picture of you, before the internet takes your face and pastes it onto another meme.

but fate has a funny way of playing games with you, because when you round the corner leading to the underground parking lot, you walk right into him.

rin itoshi.

you freeze, half because of the collision, half because - well, you’ve never actually been this close to him before. he’s taller than you expected. his hair is damp from the showers, and his stare is impassive, unreadable.

you expect him to be mad, or annoyed, or at the very least, indifferent enough to walk right past you. but instead, he speaks.

"you don’t like me."

it’s not a question.

you could lie, smooth things over, but that would be too easy. and honestly, you’re still annoyed - at the internet, at this whole situation, at the fact that he looks this good after running across a pitch for ninety minutes.

"what gave it away?" you say dryly.

his brow twitches, just the slightest bit. "is it because of pxg?"

you sigh. "no, it’s because i think you’re kind of an ass."

his lips press into a thin line. you expect him to snap at you, but instead, he just studies you - like he’s trying to solve some kind of puzzle.

"fair," he says after a beat, and for some reason, that catches you off guard.

you cross your arms. "that’s it? no defense? no ‘you don’t even know me’ speech?"

"if you think i’m an ass, i probably was." he shrugs, looking away for a second before flicking his gaze back to you. there’s something almost amused in his expression now. "but you still came to perform."

you roll your eyes. "only because your manager begged me to."

"right. had nothing to do with me."

"nothing at all."

he hums, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. as if he can see the way your resolve wavers, just a little, under the weight of his attention.

and you hate that he might be right.

he shifts then, stepping aside, giving you space to leave. but before you do, he says, almost offhandedly, "i don’t hate you, you know."

something about the way he says it makes your stomach flip. or maybe it's the compression shirt. (yeah, it's probably just the compression shirt.)

---

© sirhamburrger 2025

[lazysoulwriter]

Again. - Lewis Hamilton.

The dim glow of ambient lighting flickered over the elegant living room, casting a warm haze over the intimate gathering. Conversations hummed around the space, glasses clinking, low laughter drifting between groups of people. It was one of those nights—exclusive, understated, filled with familiar faces, but not enough to make it overwhelming.

And then there was him.

Lewis.

You had barely set foot inside before your eyes landed on him, just as he turned toward you, as if he could sense your presence before even seeing you. For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered in his gaze—recognition, warmth, hesitation—before he smiled.

"Hey, bunny."

His voice was warm, a little softer than you expected. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, the scent of his cologne stirring something deep in your chest. For a moment, you almost forgot how long it had been.

"Hi, Lew."

It was simple. Casual. Pretending that nothing had changed, even though everything had.

And then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He stepped back, let his hand linger on your arm for a beat too long before walking away, joining a group of his friends.

The night went on like that. Lingering glances. Almost interactions. The strange push and pull of two people who had once shared everything but now lived in separate orbits.

You were doing fine. Or at least, you thought you were—until someone approached you.

He was attractive, confident, clearly interested. He struck up a conversation with ease, his charm effortless. And why not entertain it? You were single. You owed Lewis nothing.

But before things could go anywhere, before the man could even brush his hand against yours, Lewis was there.

Right there.

The shift in the atmosphere was instant.

Lewis didn’t push or shove, didn’t raise his voice. He simply stepped into the space between you and the other man, placing a hand on his shoulder in a way that was both firm and dismissive. His expression was neutral, but his eyes burned.

"You’re done here."

It was polite. Technically. But there was no mistaking the command in his tone.

"Relax, man. She can—"

"I said, you’re done."

The other man hesitated. He looked at you as if to gauge your reaction, but before you could say anything, he scoffed, shaking his head before backing away.

And then, silence.

You exhaled, the tension still heavy between you and Lewis.

"You can’t just do that," you murmured, crossing your arms.

"I can do whatever I want," he shot back, his voice low, rough.

And damn it if that didn’t send a shiver down your spine.

"You don’t get to decide who talks to me."

"Maybe not." He took a step closer, eyes locked on yours. "But I’ll be damned if I stand there and watch someone else touch what’s mine."

Your breath caught.

"Lewis—"

"Come with me."

It wasn’t a question.

And maybe you should have said no. Maybe you should have walked away.

But you didn’t.

The ride to his place was quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with words unspoken. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

By the time you stepped into his apartment, the weight of the night settled around you.

"We always do this," you sighed, leaning against the counter.

"Do what?"

"This." You gestured between you. "Get pulled back into each other like this."

He didn’t argue. He just watched you, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"Because it’s never really over," he finally said, voice softer now. "Not for us."

Your chest ached.

"We tried, Lew."

"We didn’t try hard enough."

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head.

"You travel. I work. We barely saw each other. It wasn’t working."

"So? I’ll take you with me."

You blinked, stunned into silence.

"What?"

He stepped forward, hands resting on your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress.

"Wherever I go, you go. I don’t give a damn anymore. You think I care what anyone says? About schedules, logistics?"

You scoffed, looking up at him. "And my job? You’re out of your mind."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You know money’s not an issue here."

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could say anything else, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"You’re mine. And no one—no one—touches what’s mine."

And then, just like that, his lips were on yours.

And you were gone.

[themultifanshipper]

Seeing your requests open seats makes me happy 🤗

Id like to put another request in whenever you can or want to! Reader x the Spaniards (Alsonso & Sainz and honorary Franco- I know he’s not Spanish) with 🟣 and somehow semi public? Honestly whatever your magic can whip up is good too

Five times Carlos was jealous of Franco. 

And one time Fernando helped him do something about it. 

Warnings: smut, anal (mxm), Jealousy, mention of alcohol, idk if yachts count as semi-public? Fernando is manipulative, he is also bisexual, kinda dom nando, sub franco,  Carlos being pathetic and Nando being a good AND BAD friend, franco gets railed, idk what else to say

Prompt list

● The first time Carlos noticed you with Franco he almost threw up in his mouth. 

Franco and you were walking into the paddock, hand in hand and looking all happy together. 

For the entire day, when Franco wasn't busy, his arm was around you. 

Or his hand was on your back, or your neck, or your hair. He apparently felt the need to touch you at all fucking times. 

Carlos wasn't entirely sure why your relationship with the Argentine made him so angry. 

He wasn't into you like that, you were close friends, and he had nothing against Franco, so his own anger confused the hell out of him. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Carlos had been building up the courage to finally make a move on you. 

● The second time, Carlos felt his blood boil when he caught the two of you making out behind one of the garages. 

He'd almost punched the younger man in his stupid boyish face. 

How could you let Franco rope you into doing something so stupid and reckless? 

He was a bad influence on you, and Carlos told you so but you laughed him off. 

You said you and Franco weren't serious, that you were just messing around. 

That almost made it worse in Carlos' opinion. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone more mature. 

Someone who knew to please a woman. 

Someone more like him. 

That thought made him shiver.  

● The third time he finally thought he was getting somewhere. 

 In between race weekends you chatted often, and when you had two week breaks, the opportunities to see each other multiplied.  

You could feel how distant he'd been lately, and you wanted to remedy that by inviting him to your yacht party. 

It wasn't a huge thing, just a few drivers (the ones that could make it) and a few friends. 

But the first thing he saw when he got there was Franco, with his arms wrapped around you as you danced. 

He'd been stupid to think Franco wouldn't be there, but it still pissed him off to no end every time you kissed him. 

And that little number you were wearing wasn't helping either. 

It was somewhere between lace and mesh, covering and hugging your bikini clad figure underneath. 

You'd spent the afternoon swimming with Franco, it transpired. 

The only time he smiled was when you finally gave him some attention, sitting in his lap, obviously slightly tipsy, and told him how much you enjoyed being his teammate. 

Then you pecked him on the cheek, which made his heart beat out of his chest, before going straight back to Franco. 

He scowled the rest of the night, hoping everyone could forgive him for his inexplicable sour mood. 

But there was one other person there that didn't need an explanation. He knew Carlos well enough by now to know exactly why he frowned more than he smiled nowadays. 

● “Jealous? Of him? You have got to be joking” 

Fernando levelled Carlos with a look that clearly said ‘Cut the bullshit mate’ 

They were both standing around, watching the mechanics rushing around on media day, trying to get everything ready for the next day. 

“You have been teammates for two years and you never made a move, of course she has someone else now” 

The old man was right. Damn him. 

Carlos had been attracted to you from the moment you joined the team, but had been hesitant to potentially ruin the great dynamic you had going with him. 

“I know, and it's not like I love her, I just think I could satisfy her better than that kid” 

Fernando sighed. They watched you suddenly emerge from somewhere, pursued by Franco. 

From their vantage point they couldn't hear anything, but it looked like you were having an argument. 

“Ah? Trouble in paradise?” Fernando smirked. 

Carlos hummed thoughtfully. 

He wasn't about to jump in while you and Franco were having problems, he wasn't a dog. 

But he was insanely curious about what you could possibly be angry about. 

Maybe Franco had caught feelings? Maybe he was bad at sex? Maybe you were ending the arrangement because you liked somebody else? 

A man could dream, anyway. 

He won the race on Sunday, and when you'd jumped out of your car and into his arms he felt the weight in his stomach lift, just a bit. 

But you couldn't celebrate his win with him because you had an early flight. 

The more Carlos thought about it, the more he wanted to strangle himself for not fucking you sooner.  

● By the next race, Fernando was officially sick of Carlos' behaviour. 

He'd slumped down on his driver’s room couch and ranted about how he was sure you were in love with Franco because you'd stopped paying attention to him. 

“Listen, mate” He huffed “Do you want me to talk to her? Do you want me to talk to Franco?” 

Carlos scoffed at the idea. 

“No that would make it worse. They would know you came from me” 

Fernando rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. 

“I can be very inconspicuous…” 

… 

That night, Fernando followed you home. 

Not in a creepy way, he just took an uber with you to your hotel, so that he could start a conversation and hopefully dig into some gossip. 

Or at least that's what he told you. 

His real intentions were to get you to talk about Franco, and Carlos. 

And then if he got the answers he suspected he was going to get… maybe a little something extra. 

This week, your hotel room had a minibar, which you and Fernando made full usage of during the evening. 

“So what is the deal with you and Franco? If you are dating it is not very discreet… I am surprised social media hasn't picked up on it yet” 

You laughed putting your 3rd shot of whatever concoction Fernando had created down on the smooth marble of the bar. 

“No, no! We're just having fun!” you chirped “You know, like young people do” 

You winked and Fernando raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Have more respect for your elders!” he chuckled. “But if you aren't serious, why were you fighting in the paddock the other day?” 

“Nando!” you gasped “You little gossip monger!” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just curious” 

“Well… if you must know, we were arguing about Carlos” 

Beautiful, he thought, he didn't even need to bring up his fellow spaniard, you were doing it for him. 

“Franco thinks Carlos hates him. Because he has this idea in his head that Carlos wants to fuck me, which is absurd, and that I want to fuck Carlos!”  

Fernando gasped. 

“No!... but… do you?” 

You seemed to hesitate at that. “Well, I wouldn't say no, he is fit. But I doubt he'd be interested” 

He chuckled. “Really? I assumed you were more interested in younger men because of Franco” 

You smirked cheekily at him. 

“Not really, I can go for slightly older men. In fact I haven't spoken to Franco in a few days now…”  

Your hand landed on Fernando's knee, and he gulped. 

"I think I need a change of pace…” 

His eyes darkened and he leaned against the counter. 

“How much older can you go?” 

“I don't know…” you purred, hand slowly making its way up his tense thigh “twenty years? Give or take” 

The look in his eyes was predatory as he glanced at your lips. 

“Good.” He rumbled “Then let me show you the benefit of experience”... 

By the time he got on his plane the next day, he had a plan. El plan to end all plans. He just wasn't sure how to set it in motion. 

● The perfect opportunity landed in his lap a week later, when you sent him a text. 

“Nanooo, how would you feel about an afternoon on my yacht? Maybe have a bit of fun ;)” 

He grinned, typing out a response immediately. 

“I am always down for some fun ;) Can I bring someone to join us?” 

You were taken aback by his request, but you agreed without much convincing, even though he refused to tell you who he was bringing because it was a surprise. 

You sure were excited though, because there was only one logical choice. Carlos.  

The reason (you suspected) Fernando wanted to talk to you that night before… well… 

The memory made your heart beat a little faster every time it crept into your mind. 

How own earth were you going to handle two of them?

When the day came, you picked out your nicest bikini and sprawled out on the deck while you waited. 

When you heard a voice call out your name, you bolted upright. 

That wasn't Fernando's voice. It was… 

“Franco?”  

He grinned, making his way over to you. 

“Ooh you look nice today!” he embraced you warmly, but you just sat there in shock. 

“You were who Fernando wanted to bring?” you asked incredulously. 

“Yes? Are you disappointed?” he seemed a bit hurt at your lack of enthusiasm. 

“No of course not! I just wasn't expecting it to be you. I’m surprised you’d want to… you know, with Fernando.” 

You giggled and he kissed your forehead affectionately. 

“I am up for anything, you know that” 

Fair enough. 

“Why don't I get us a couple of drinks while we wait for him?” he offered kindly, he knew your yacht in and out by now and you accepted. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him jog down the steps. 

You weren't sure whether you were happy or disappointed.  

Franco and Fernando seemed like quite duo, but you'd kind of build yourself up to the idea of finally getting to fuck Carlos and… 

Well you didn't really have time to finish that thought, because suddenly Carlos was there, walking across the deck, having just come aboard. 

He quickly noticed your terrified expression and stopped in his tracks. 

“I am guessing Fernando didn't tell you I was coming…” 

Your eyes darted to the steps, up which Franco would be coming any second now. 

“No he did not” 

“Are you… are you not happy to see me?” he looked heart broken and you snapped out of your stupor to go and give him a hug. 

“Of course I am… it's just-“ 

“Listen, I told Fernando if you are not comfortable with this, we do not have to do anything. He told me you would be…” 

He trailed off, eyes fixed on Franco who was standing back on the deck with two glasses in his hands, and looking slightly confused. 

Carlos scoffed “Why is he here? I thought it was going to be the three of us?” 

Franco’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “I could ask the same, I was invited by Fernando” 

Carlos looked at you questioningly, and you looked at Franco, who looked a Carlos, and it carried on like that for several seconds, a festival of wide eyes traveling back and forth. 

“I'm gonna call him” you finally broke the silence and grabbed your phone. 

When he picked up, his smiling face took up the entire screen and he was wearing the most ostentatious sunglasses you'd ever seen. 

“Fernando what the fuck did you do?” 

He just laughed and set his phone down so that you could see he was in a car. 

“Ah, I take it the other two are already there. I’m sorry nena, I will be a few minutes late, don't let them kill each other before I get there” 

He hung up, and you just stared blankly at the screen for a minute. 

“So… what do we think his plan was?” Carlos asked warily. 

You thought back to the conversation you had with him in your hotel room. 

“Well… I'm guessing he wants me and Carlos to fuck.”  your gaze snapped towards Franco “But I'm not sure what your role is in this”

 

“Well… I will get another glass then” Franco responded, and promptly made his way back downstairs. 

“I'm sorry Carlos, I had no idea about any of this” 

He chuckled “Well I supposed it is partly my fault. I have been complaining to Fernando that I have wanted to fuck you since you joined the team” 

You choked on your spit. 

Franco didn't take long to come back and sit with you, each of you with a cold drink in hand while you waited for Fernando. 

When he did finally arrive, the three of you just stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“I thought we could all have some fun!” he shrugged. “Given that some of us are already… intimately acquainted” 

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. 

“And also I want to see you two finally fuck” he pointed between you and Carlos. 

Franco, who was closest to him, looked up at him shyly. 

“What about me?” 

Fernando threaded a hand through Franco's hair, pulling his head back slightly and making the younger man's breath hitch as his eyes widened. 

“You… are going to sit on my lap, hermoso, and watch them” He smiled evilly “And if you are a good boy, I might reward you” 

Franco gulped, and that image was so hot your thighs clenched together involuntarily, which caught Carlos' attention. 

“You like that idea?” he muttered, leaning close to your ear “You want me to fuck you while they watch us?” 

You nodded with a small whimper, and that was all Carlos needed to press you down onto the sun lounger and devour you. 

Almost literally, he all but attacked your neck with his greedy mouth, licking and sucking at your skin in an effort to mark you up. 

His hand made quick work of the ties on your bikini, getting you completely bare for him, and he marveled at the sight. 

He then worshipped your chest, sucking hickies into your soft flesh while his hand made its way between your legs to teasingly slip a finger inside you. 

You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“More, Carlos.”  

He slipped another finger in and his thumb came to rub circles around your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine at the contact. 

He couldn't believe you were this wet already. 

It took you an embarrassingly short time to come, and Carlos groaned into your neck at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his fingers. 

The sound of a bottle cap opening caught your attention and you looked at where Fernando was lubing up his fingers. 

What made a new wave of arousal course through you though, was that Franco was on his lap, bare from the waist down, his legs spread open by Fernando’s thighs. 

“Fucking hell” you muttered, and Carlos seemed to have the same though as he watched with an open mouth as Fernando teased Franco's rim, before pushing two fingers inside the younger man. 

The whimper he let out made your cunt throb, and you licked your lips at the sight of Franco's cock leaking precome onto the floor in front of him. 

“Look at me” Carlos muttered, and the look he was giving you made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I have waited for this for a long time, I am going to savour it” 

His eyes were fully black, and he slid into you slowly, inch by agonising inch until his hips met yours. 

You let out a breath, and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss while he waited for you to adjust to his girth. 

You glanced to the side, to where Fernando was placing Franco over his cock, and the younger man didn't even wince when he sank down onto it. 

“Now don't move until I say so” Fernando rumbled, and the order made Carlos twitch inside you. 

He thrusted into you shallowly, figuring out the angle and pace you preferred by the amount of noise you were making. 

Thank god your yacht was docked right at the end of the marina, next to the cliff face so you weren't very visible (or audible).  

As Carlos picked up the pace, he could feel your legs trembling, so he hooked them over his shoulders to press you down harder while he bullied his cock into you. 

The new angle made you fucking melt into the lounger, it was so good. 

 

Franco was having trouble obeying Fernando's orders, the sight of you falling apart under Carlos was making him so fucking needy it hurt. 

Not to mention Fernando's cock buried inside him, stretching him out so perfectly it was keeping him on edge.

“Nando…” he whimpered “Please, I'm gonna come” 

His hips were twitching uncontrolably, and the Spaniard decided to take pity on him. 

“Carlos!” he called “bring her over here so she can suck him off” 

The two of you crawled over without hesitation, and Franco was manhandled onto his knees with Fernando behind him. 

The first lick against Franco's angry, leaking tip made him sob out a whine and you promptly took him down as far as you could go. 

Carlos resumed his earlier pace, and stared at the way Franco's eyes rolled into the back of his skull. 

Fernando held him in place and thrusted into him at a brutal pace while you sucked him off diligently. 

Suddenly his body clenched and he threw his head back in pleasure. 

“Fuck- Mierda… Puta ma-“ 

Carlos couldn't hold himself back at the obscene sight in front of him, Fernando fucking into Franco like an animal, while you swallowed his cum like a good girl. 

A few more thrusts and he was spilling inside you as well, panting hard as he curled over you and wrapped an arm around your middle to ground himself after that intense wave of pleasure. 

Fernando wasn't far behind, coming inside Franco with a low groan while the Argentine let out a breathless whimper at the feeling of being filled up. 

Carlos thought he looked almost ethereal, glowing in the sunset with his lips bitten raw and his utterly fucked out expression. 

The thought almost made his cock twitch back to life.

 

Maybe there could be some room in his bed to explore some more with you and Franco by his side…

[28harryssunflower]

Not just one night

The bass pulsed through the dimly lit pub, shaking the floors as Harry leaned back in the plush leather booth. The celebration was in full swing - his bandmates laughing, drinking, and clinking glasses over the success of their latest album. It was a night meant for celebration, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a quiet restlessness curling in his chest.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy - he was. But lately, everything felt a little empty. His life was a whirlwind of stadiums, flashing cameras, and screaming fans, but once the adrenaline wore off, it was just… silence. Nights like these, he didn’t want to go home alone. He wanted something, someone, to fill that void, even if just for a little while.

He lazily swirled the whiskey in his glass, his emerald eyes scanning the crowded dance floor from the privacy of their booth. People were moving to the beat, bodies pressed together, caught up in the moment. That was when he saw you.

You were in the center of the dance floor, lost in the rhythm of the music, but it wasn’t just the way you moved that caught his attention - it was who you were dancing with. Another girl. The two of you were tangled up in each other, hands roaming, bodies flushed together. Then, as if no one else in the room existed, your lips met.

Harry’s breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oi, mate,” Niall’s voice broke through his trance. “Think you’ve had a bit too much to drink. You’re starin’.”

Harry barely looked away. “Maybe.”

Niall followed his gaze and let out a laugh. “Sorry, man. Looks like you’re outta luck with this one. Don’t think she’s into men.”

Harry smirked, leaning back against the booth. “Or maybe she’s into both.”

Niall raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “So now you’re an expert?”

“Just a theory,” Harry mused, his gaze flicking back to you. He watched as you finally pulled away from your dance partner, breathless and flushed. The girl whispered something in your ear before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing by yourself, running a hand through your hair.

It was now or never.

Harry slid out of the booth and made his way to the bar, settling onto a stool just as you approached from the dance floor. You ordered another drink, still catching your breath from the heated moment before. Harry caught the bartender’s attention.

“Whatever she’s drinking, on me,” he said smoothly, nodding in your direction.

The bartender delivered the drink with a simple, “From Harry.”

You glanced over at him, tilting your head slightly as you took the glass. Slowly, you raised it in acknowledgment before sipping from the straw, your eyes flicking over him in quiet appraisal. A small smirk curled on your lips.

Harry took that as an invitation. He moved closer, settling in the seat next to you. “That was quite the show,” he mused, resting his arm on the bar.

You chuckled, setting your drink down. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

He tilted his head. “I gotta ask now… are you a lesbian?”

Your laugh was soft but amused. “I’m not really anything,” you said, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “I just like what I like and don’t like what I don’t like. I don’t do… labels.”

His grin widened. “I like that.”

You arched a brow. “And you? What do you like?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Right now? You.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You introduced yourself, laughing when he did the same. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

The drinks kept coming, and at some point, the space between you disappeared. The playful flirtation turned into subtle touches - his fingers grazing your knee, your hand lingering on his forearm. When he suggested heading back to his hotel, you hesitated for half a second before nodding.

The next morning, soft sunlight streamed through the hotel room’s curtains, casting a golden glow over the rumpled sheets. You stirred slightly, your body warm and tangled in them. And then, it hit you.

You weren’t alone.

Your eyes fluttered open, and there he was. Harry Styles, lying beside you, bare-chested, tattoos sprawled across his skin like a work of art. His curls were messy from sleep, his lips slightly parted as he breathed steadily.

You swallowed hard, reality sinking in. You had slept with Harry Styles.

It wasn’t that you regretted it. Quite the opposite. But something about it felt surreal, like something out of a dream that you weren’t meant to live. You’d been a fan for years, but you never imagined you’d end up here, waking up beside him.

That was exactly why you needed to go.

Carefully, you slid out of bed, reaching for your clothes. But just as you were about to pull them on, a raspy voice broke through the silence.

“Goin’ somewhere?”

You froze, turning to see Harry watching you through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. His voice was deep, rough with sleep.

“I just thought…” You hesitated. “Didn’t want to make things weird.”

He ran a hand through his curls, stretching slightly. “You wanna go without giving me your number? Unbelievable.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Didn’t think you’d want it.”

He patted the empty spot beside him. “Come back here.”

You hesitated, but then you did - slipping back into bed, his warmth immediately enveloping you. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as he reached for the phone.

“Room service?” he mumbled into the receiver. “Yeah, breakfast for two.”

You stayed like that, tangled in the sheets, waiting for breakfast to arrive. And when it did, between bites of toast and sips of coffee, you exchanged numbers.

What was meant to be a one-night stand didn’t stay that way.

The first text came a few days later.

Harry: Had fun the other night. Let’s do it again sometime?

You had stared at your phone for a good five minutes, heart pounding. Was this really happening? You weren’t the type to get attached after a hookup, and yet something about him - his charm, his warmth, the way he made you feel like the only person in the room - made it impossible to say no.

So you met up again. And again.

At first, it was casual, stolen moments between his chaotic schedule. Late-night drinks, spontaneous meet-ups, long phone calls when he was on tour. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. He started keeping an extra toothbrush for you in his suitcase. You started sleeping over even when you weren’t having sex, just because it felt right. He introduced you to his friends, his inner circle - the people who mattered.

And then, one night, as the two of you lay in bed, tangled in sheets and each other, he pressed a kiss to your temple and murmured, “You know you’re mine, right?”

You smiled against his bare chest, feeling your heart stutter. “Yeah,” you whispered. “And you’re mine.”

That was how it started.

The first time you met the rest of One Direction, you nearly had a heart attack.

Harry had invited you to a casual get-together with the boys - nothing fancy, just drinks and catching up during their break.

“You alright, love?” Harry asked as he drove you to Louis’ place, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh.

You exhaled, trying to calm your nerves. “I’m about to meet One Direction. The One Direction. Do you realize how insane that is?”

Harry chuckled, squeezing your leg. “We‘re just normal lads, babe.”

“No, you‘re legends,” you corrected dramatically. “You don’t understand. I used to have posters of you guys all over my room. I went to concerts. I-“

Harry’s smirk grew. “You were a fan, huh?”

Your cheeks burned. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

He laughed, clearly loving this. “Oh, we absolutely do.”

Before you could protest any further, he pulled into the driveway.

The moment you stepped inside, the chaos began.

“Finally!” Louis’ voice rang out as he pulled Harry into a hug. “Was startin’ to think you’d ditched us.” Then, his sharp blue eyes flicked to you, and a knowing smirk appeared. “And this must be the girl.”

You barely had time to process before Niall grinned and pulled you into a hug. “Ah, so you’re the one who’s got our Haz all soft,” he teased.

Liam gave you a warm handshake, his signature polite charm in full effect. “Nice to finally meet you. Harry hasn’t shut up about you.”

You shot Harry a look. “Oh, has he?”

As the night went on, you realized something: You weren’t just dating Harry Styles, the international superstar. You were dating Harry, the guy whose best friends treated him like a little brother, who laughed until he cried when Louis told a terrible joke, who stole Niall’s fries when he wasn’t looking.

It was overwhelming, yes, but it was also real.

It happened naturally, it was bound to happen at some point.

At first, you kept things private - just the two of you in your little bubble. But the longer you were together, the harder it became to hide. Paparazzi caught glimpses of you slipping into his car, fans noticed you in the background of his Instagram stories, and eventually, Harry made the decision himself.

One night, as you lay curled up in his arms, he murmured, “‘M thinking about posting a picture of us.”

You blinked up at him. “Like… on your Instagram?”

He nodded, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Yeah. I don’t wanna hide you. I want people to know I‘m yours.”

Your heart clenched at his words. “Are you sure? The fans… the media…”

“I don’t care,” he said simply. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m okay with it.”

The next morning, he posted a simple photo - a candid shot of you laughing at something he said, your head thrown back, eyes shining. The caption?

My love.

The internet broke.

Fans freaked out, tabloids ran headlines, and within minutes, your phone blew up. Some people were supportive, others not so much, but Harry didn’t let you see the negativity. He held you close and whispered, “None of it matters, love. Just us.”

And you believed him.

One night, after a few glasses of wine, you finally told him.

“Okay,” you blurted out, cheeks warm from the alcohol. “I have to show you something.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through old pictures until you found the one. Then, you handed it to him.

He took one look at the image and burst out laughing.

It was your childhood bedroom - walls covered in frat boy Harry Styles and One Direction posters. His face was everywhere. Your teenage self had even gone as far as having a life-size cutout of him in the corner.

“Oh, this is gold,” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. “You had a shrine for me!”

“Shut up!” you groaned, snatching the phone back. “I was, like, fifteen! I didn’t think I’d actually meet you one day, let alone-“ You gestured between the two of you. “This!”

Harry wiped a tear from his eye. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pouted. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” he grinned. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he added, “Do you still have the cutout?”

“Oh my God, stop.”

He pulled you onto his lap, still laughing. “Nah, this just means it was meant to be. You manifested this.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let this get to your head.”

“Too late,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Looking back, you never would have believed that a one-night stand with the Harry Styles would turn into this - a real relationship, filled with laughter, love, and stolen moments between his hectic career. But here you were, in his arms, knowing without a doubt…

It was always meant to be.

[socgf]

can you write a dallas x reader where he has to meet her family and what that is like? ps i love ur writing

meet the parents - dallas winston x reader

in which... dally attempts to learn table manners for you.

wc: 1122

warnings: none. fluff and language. :)

"i'm not kidding, dal. if you mention a word about your bets at the rodeos, i'll skin you alive." 

you reach over the center console of buck's red thunderbird that dally 'borrowed' to park in front of your house, and fiddle mindlessly with the neckline of his white tee shirt, the cleanest one you could find in his closet for this occasion. though getting him to wear something with a collar, or god forbid, buttons, would be a tall order.

"quit worryin' your pretty head. i got it, alright? nothin' illegal." he grins over to you, leaning back in his seat and putting a cigarette between his lips. "i'll tell them i work at the library or some shit."

you roll your eyes at his comment and snatch the stick out of his hand before he can light it. "...and you can't be smellin' like smoke either when you meet them."

"awe, now you know that's too far." he reaches into the glove compartment, digging out a pack of menthols instead. "c'mon, you can't have a problem with these."

"ugh, dal…"

he groans dramatically, putting it back in the box. "fine. jesus, woman, the things i do for you.."

"yeah, you like me or something?" you can't hold back a smile.

"no, no, that's not it. i'm losin' my mind, that's what." he retorts, though there's that familiar softness in his voice. "alright. i can see your ma lookin' through the damn curtains, let's go."

he places a chaste kiss to your cheek and walks over to the passenger side, holding the door open. he'd be a real proper gentleman if you didn't know any better.

your heart beats out of your chest as you slide the key into the front door lock. and dally must have picked up on it with the way he squeezes your hand softly, running his thumb along your palm. you can hear your parents scramble off the couch at the sound

your mother's eyes light up when she sees you at the door.

"oh sweetheart, look at you two! well, come in, come in." she beckons you and dally into the living room, smoothing her hand over his shoulder.

you swallow hard before speaking. "mama, daddy, this is -"

"uh, dallas winston, sir." he's already reached out his hand for a firm shake, and your father's eyes immediately zero in on the small, healing cut on dally's lip, though he smiles gruffly.

"great to finally meet you, son. we've heard so much about you."

"real nice place you got here, ma'am." dally's eyes dart around your living room, trying really hard to seem like he hasn't already snuck up the stairs in the middle of the night a dozen times by now. you're biting the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk.

"well, thank you, dallas." your mother gestures to the dining room, plates and utensils already laid out for four. "dinner should be just about ready. you like pot roast?"

"yes ma'am." 

as the four of you sit down for dinner, you can sense the tension in dally's body from the corner of your eye. his fingers drum lightly against your knee.

"so, dallas, my daughter tells me you help out at the rodeos?" he asks cautiously, and dally nods.

"that's right, sir." 

your dad passes the gravy boat, keeping his eyes on dally. "dangerous sport."

"yeah, that's what makes it worth doin'."

dally catches your warning nudge to his ankle under the table, and recovers quickly. "...course, i'm uh… real careful, sir. can't have your daughter here worried sick about me."

your father softens slightly at his words, glancing between you and dally. "that's right, son, you better be. this one's quite fond of you."

dally almost looks proud at your father's reaction, dropping his gaze to his plate to hide the hint of a flush on his cheeks. 

"well, it's getting late," your mother says, gathering the dessert plates into the sink, while your father glances at the clock. "dallas, you'll drive safely home?"

"always do, ma'am." 

you can barely stifle a laugh at that one.

"and thanks for dinner... it was real good." he continues, standing up from the table and pushing the chair in all proper.

"why don't you two say goodnight on the porch?" your mother suggests, and you don't miss how dally's eyes light up for a moment.

as you close the screen door behind you, the sounds from the dining room muffled and the cool air hitting your face, dally's lips are already at your ear.

"window's unlocked?"

you nod as subtly as you can, knowing your parents are definitely peeking at you through the windows. "be careful with the screen this time. daddy noticed the holes last week."

"yeah, i got it. ten minutes, baby." he mutters gruffly. he leans down and kisses your forehead softly before heading down the steps towards the thunderbird.

you let out a quiet sigh and head back into the dining room, letting out a slightly exaggerated yawn. "think i'd better head up, mama. got some reading to do before bed."

you almost think your mother is onto something with the knowing look she gives you. "alright, honey." she pauses. "he seems like a good guy. he treat you well?"

you smile softly. "yeah. yeah… he does, swear."

"man, was i good down there or what?"

you barely had time to change into your nightgown before dally's made the climb back into your bedroom. by the looks of it, all the rules he was bound to have been completely abandoned.

you scoff slightly, sitting criss cross on the foot of the bed. he's already sprawled across your headboard, head lounging on your ruffled pillows.

"yeah, a little too good, dal. got 'em thinking you're a prep school boy… where'd you pick up manners like that?"

his chuckle is muffled softly by the cigarette between his lips.

"wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart?" he pats the spot right next to him, mumbling, "c'mere."

"dal, they haven't even went to bed yet-"

"ain't doin' nothin'. just want my girl closer." he pauses, a shit-eating grin creeping onto his face. "...what were you thinking?"

you let out a halfhearted groan but scoot over next to him anyway, sinking your head into the crook of his neck. he strokes the top of your head lazily as you take in the subtle feeling of his chest rising and falling, a feeling that's always comforted you.

"think they're asleep yet?" he mumbles after a while, his breath in your ear.

you poke him gently in his side. "dal..."

he can't hold back a gruff laugh as he catches your fingers, interlacing them with his own.

"worth a shot, baby."

a.n. i hope you like this request i'm sorry it took so long!! i was fighting for my life trying to make this not too ooc bc i feel like in reality dallas would like cuss your parents out to their face but i CHOOSE to believe he can also do this like i'm a soft dallas truther.

ps.ps. this is kinda soc reader coded…

taglist: @mrsdillonx @hailpacino @magefelixir @jujuheartz13 @coastershells @r0seb100d

[melodyreads]

Matchmaker

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

--

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

And as he laced his fingers through hers, Y/n realized she had been waiting too.