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#Not to shit on my own country but tinder here is just... Yeah
spamgyu · 26 days
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i will become an anon again after this post so dont mind my acc reveal (im merlin btw and in this story i hide the sword cuz like why not) ok so as we are into giving svt members a new life here me out dk is our theater major who is like into musicals and shit and he like gives of Ethan(because ethan nakamura is a fucking drama queen) vibes like he has this menacing name but like is the chillest dude to ever chill and because of parental pressure he took business too cuz like theater majors become comedians later in life and not all of them flourish tells everyone his favorite movie is godfather but in reality loves little women but like greta's version cuz it is the only one that did justice to amy's character and payed homage to the author at the same time by critiquing the reality declining notions of the older and the younger gen has a collection of dainty rings and chains and meticulously chooses his outfits everyday so that they give dostoevsky and plath vibes, but absolutely hates them and kafka too cuz they are thinking too deep into life instead of enjoying it, but if the outfit give old money then it gives old money. Spends at 3 hours ranting to anyone who will listen that he is born in the wrong era, cuz like look at him he is giving bridgerton bro vibes absolutely hates responsibility but is give will fulfil his duty like a war hero loves to read jane austen and oscar wilde. will also claim that behind the closed doors of the theater there is a revolution going on and it will soon emerge on the streets of the country because ai is indeed stealing their jobs pretends to like the concept of communism to be different from the others but cant for the life of him understand what is its deal also plays atleast 3 classical instruments and has a secret diploma in classical music but never told anyone, dont ask him why he cant answer, loves hamilton cuz whe he talks about it people think he is smart but he just likes the songs and thats it. oh btw did i mention like bro comes from money too
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that 1 pic in all of his socials
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pulling up to the theater to practice for hamilton(yes he is aware he got the outfit wrong but if he goes for the correct 1 it might look weird, plus he got mistaken for the professor around the campus )
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that one tinder pic he chose cuz shua told him he looked like the typical trustable badboy who can pull bitches (and he was right, his matches went up a lot more after he posted this pic, but he will never tell shua that)
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will look dead into your eyes and tell you he likes kafka while looking like this (who is he trying to fool??!!) did this all spiral from my obsession over classical lit, the need to be born during the 1800s so that i could actually share a cup of coffee with dear mr Fyodor and listen to him rant about his radical opinions, and love for my bias absolutely yes!!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT
okay few things
tells people he likes godfather but really likes little women BYE BC I SEE IT. the way someone would talk about godfather and ask him about his opinion and he'd be like "oh no yeah..... i love the part where.... he is the god father" ..... boy if you dont stfu lol
dokyeom giving off hot loser(lovingly) theater kid is actually stressing me tf out..... i ....
he def annotates his books with dif colored sticky notes for dif purposes and when he loves lending those books and asks what u thought of his annotations AND AND encourages for you to annotate too like "here's a pack of purple sticky notes, feel free to add ur own" sickening
wow i will be rotting on this thank you omfg
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Girlies im here to update on my tinder adventures. i had my 2nd call with another tinder dude. It lasted two hours 😃
Hes okay! But maybe i am picky dear Allah please so help me but theres just something about him that gives me the ick. Well not ick but like eh... he might not be the one.
heavy smoker: wont smoke in front of me out of courtesy but doesnt believe the science that inhaling toxin can legit kill you all bcause his grandma whos also a heavy smoker died of something else and not cancer. Like he doesnt care about the consequences at all.
2. privileged af and so ignorant about it: hes travelled once for a month last dec and will be traveling again THRICE this yr and he thinks that going for umrah is not a vacation/“travelling” bc its a spiritual journey like do you hear yourself and how in your bubble you are. Anything thats going out of the country for something thats not work AND going for a peace of mind is VACATION. his mom shops for branded stuff and he gets bored waiting around and sitting inside the store. Like some of us wouldnt even dream of stepping in. and i told him honestly, do you know how privileged you sound (entitled actually) and he said what do you mean?? and I'm like most people don't get to experience going out like that. and he was like yeah I'm thankful, grateful. mmm......
3. mansplainer (biggest ICK): he said hed bring me outdoors and i told him i cant and i dont like it and he said that he will force me but will bring an umbrella. Then i told him i have eczema and he gaslit me saying IT CANT BE THAT BAD. HIS EX HAD IT WORSE IT WAS SEVERE And i was so pissed. And so i said. Well. I had been admitted three fucking times for it and was on 4 different medications for it and going to biweekly appointments and blood tests and so i said im SURE. CERTAIN that i have it MUCH WORSE than your ex. he did not spare me a breath and came up with his own conclusion. also he says that eczema HAS A CURE. HES CERTAIN OF IT. bc he's saw it in his ex. and I'm like ............................ i had it since i was a baby. the fuck you mean there's a cure. there are treatments for it okay but not cure. i hate when people who don't have eczema say nonsense like that.
Which brings me to point no. 3: religious. Nothing nothing NOTHING wrong with someone who’s religious, i am a practicing muslim. I pray 5 times a day and i value my relationship with god too. But what i dont like is how he pushes his personal religious values or agenda onto me like i dont know shit. Your relationship with god, and my relationship with god is no ones business, its your own so dont try to police how i do it with god. Like i told him i “had” to quickly pray before calling him. And he stopped me saying i shouldnt say “had to” bc that would mean being forced/its an obligation so i have to change that bc “context is everything”. Like its something to fix. i really HAD to make it quick or else i wouldnt know what time i'd be praying.
4. With that being said, he is also homo/phobic..................... well yes and no? i don't know. he said he doesn't want to talk about it bc its controversial and he is against t/rans ppl and its changing the essence of what god has created for you. i just don't like that argument because . if there's one thing you cant change about me, it's my morals.
5. hes so into himself that he was basically pitching himself like a project. but ok, its my fault, i asked. but was there any reciprocation? did he ask me back about me? not really. i found myself having to jump in and add in what i had to say. he would say things like, I've been through a lot, you have no idea. and I'm like don't we all??? you arent the only one whos experienced the lows of life. you arent the only one who had a hard time.
6. his approaching his 30s and he treats me like I'm a kid bc I'm 26? "oh huwaina you still so young. when the pandemic hit, it was like 3 fucking years of my youth taken away from me now I'm almost 30" and i jumped in and said like "yeah me too" and he was like "no, I've already reached 30, there's no more 20s for me but you do. you still have time to experience things and enjoy life. i was 21, 22, 23 when covid happened i felt like i didn't experience the life i was supposed to at my early 20s. also does life end at 30 ladies and gents? he keeps telling me how gen z i am, and I'm like okay????????????
7. HES NOT GOOD LOOKING IM SORRY I SWIPED BC HE SEEMED LIKE HE HAD PERSONALITY 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️
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winderlylandchime · 6 months
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2x20 1/2 His hair is sticking out in all directions, he’s half a pack of cigarettes down, he can’t be still and he looks like he hasn’t slept for weeks. Before the ep: ‘he now knows. And he needs to confront him. You know, even with all he does, right now? Brian is better. More morals and shit. So he needs to do something, i suggest doing what I did when I got cheated (i bring up the fact that tinder/sending nudes on phones was not like a thing in 2002)Still! He needs to do something petty! Come on Brian, don’t disappoint me’ So we are off to a great start: ‘okay finale, you have 40 minutes to fix this fucking mess you created. Get. To. It. Imagine being excited over a comic that your boyfriend inspired that youre cheating on. I SWEAR IF THE GOATEE FUCKER MAKES IT IN THE COMIC I WILL RIOT! Look, it’s Bri!! HE MADE THEM A PARTY! He knows he’s being cheated on and he’s still doing all this? I am even sadder now! CAN MIKE STOP KISSING HIM. I AM WILLING TO GIVE YOU MY LEFT ARM *looks at me in horror* i swear, I’m an ally but he does it for weird reasons and it’s very clear..’ ‘HE’S GOING TO BE A MONK?! DEBBIE FINALLY LIKES YOU AND YOU WANT TO BECOME A MONK?!…dude, no offense but bald look isn’t gonna suit you’ The sound that he just let out when Ethan/Justin popped up, i swear it was heard across the world. ‘OH SO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THAT HE HAS A BOYFRIEND BUT YOURE STILL FUCKING HIM…tell me cello player, how does that make you any different than that ex boyfriend of yours that you hate oh so badly. *childish mocking* drive to the country to park under the stars, my dudes, neither of you own a car. Awww he wants to watch a meteor shower..i hope one of them hits you.’ He is now actually upset because of Justin saying that Brian is giving him a party. ‘HE SAID THAT AS IF ITS NOTHING. Fuck you cello player, i look forward for the day Brian runs you over with his car, that he OWNES! Oh so you acknowledge that he loves you but you’re still okay with cheating? I’m actually really sad about this. *they kiss* BLEGH..oh please shove that CD up your ass.‘ Okay, thee scene is coming up!!! ‘WHY THE FUCK IS THERE VIOLIN MUSIC AGAIN?! MAKE IT STOP! Please tell me a car hits him here. Who’s that? BRIAN!!! FUCKING HELL YES! GO BRIAN GO BRIAN!! Oh for fucks sake Ben!’ He is not here for Ted being all over Emmett. It’s freaking him out. And he is once again screaming about and lesbians minding their business. ‘BRIAN! Wait, he’s offering a job? Nah, my man isn’t stupid. He knows the songs on his cd. OH SHIT ITS JUSTIN! Please Brian, get up and kiss him in front of this fucker! I AM BEGGING! THATS RIGHT THE NAME IS BRIAN KINNEY! The word ‘fucking’ is missing in between but that’s not professional to put on businesses cards. NOW KISS JUSTIN PLEASE! DUN DUN DUN KARMA IS HERE JUSTIN. And that’s the look of a motherfucker who knows he was played! Good job Brian! LOOK AT THAT SMILE, yeah fuck off to class and get hit by a bus please.‘ He is upset about the fact that he didn’t get to see Brian figuring it all out and finding out who Ethan is though. He thinks that it would be really cool with him going through Justins stuff/the loft with some badass music in the back where the lyrics are about being betrayed or something. He gave me an entire play by play like a theater director. ‘Oh you’re sorry are you? Fuck you. You didn’t mean for it to happen? Which time? The first or the 17th?….is that a thing…? Falling asleep with a dick up your ass? Can they do that? Is that healthy? Should I ask (uncles name)? (Ive never screamed NO so loudly in my life) ohhh he connected all the dots! Flowers violin and picnics! He knows it all. OH MY POOR BABY. *mocking voice* oh he loves you? They’re still using that. Brian, that was unnecessarily funny. He’s right btw, FUCK YOU JUSTIN WE BOTH KNOW EXACTLY WHY HE CANT SAY THOSE 3 WORDS BUT HE KINDA SAID IT TO DEB! Go to deb and ask! She will tell you! this hurts. He CARES if he didn’t care he wouldn’t do all that he did to catch Mr Goatee but he’s clearly willing to kill himself just so that Blondie gets to live his life.’
His hair is sticking out in all directions, he’s half a pack of cigarettes down, he can’t be still and he looks like he hasn’t slept for weeks. <- BIG SAME WHENEVER I WATCH THIS ARC
He needs to do something petty! - teehee.... straight into -
And that’s the look of a motherfucker who knows he was played! Good job Brian! LOOK AT THAT SMILE, yeah fuck off to class and get hit by a bus please.‘ PERFECTION
Yes, please don't let him bother your uncle with any more questions about anal sex.
He CARES if he didn’t care he wouldn’t do all that he did to catch Mr Goatee but he’s clearly willing to kill himself just so that Blondie gets to live his life.’ <- this is the Britin dynamic boiled down to its essential ingredients. Our man has figured it out.
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telemarcs · 2 years
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Someone said it
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meetmymouth · 3 years
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AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES
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WORD COUNT: 12k
warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.
thank you @harryandhockey​ and @burberryharold​ for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels! 
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When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.
“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”
The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”
“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.
Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.
“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”
“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.
It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.
So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.
“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.
“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.
She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”
“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”
“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”
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They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.
“So-”
“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.
“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”
“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”
Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”
“Oh, yeah!”
She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.
“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”
“Harry Styles?”
“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.
“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.
“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.
“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”
“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”
Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”
“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”
“Y’sure?”
She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”
It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.
Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.
She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.
Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”
Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”
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She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.
She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.
“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”
Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.
She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”
“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”
They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”
Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”
“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.
“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”
They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.
As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.
To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?
The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.
“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.
“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”
“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”
As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.
Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.
And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.
Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.
Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.
That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.
Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.
And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”
“You’re working too, right?”
“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”
“It must be exhausting.”
“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”
“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”
He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”
Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.
She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.
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Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.
“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.
“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.
“Is she flirting?”
“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.
Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.
“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”
“I’ll come with.”
She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.
Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.
They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.
“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.
He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.
He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.
Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.
“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”
He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.
“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”
“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.
“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”
She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.
He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.
“Do you go to uni in London, or?”
“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.
“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”
“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”
He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”
“Well, I-”
He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.
“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”
“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”
She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”
“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”
She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.
It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.
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People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.
“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”
Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer,  “This one though...”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.
“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.
“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”
Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.
“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”
“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”
They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”
“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.
“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”
“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.
Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.
They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.
She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.
Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.
“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.
She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.
Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”
She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.
She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”
“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.
“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”
“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.
“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”
“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”
“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”
“Great! That alright with you?”
She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”
Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.
Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.
“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.
“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”
“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”
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Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.
“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.
She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”
“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.
They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”
“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.
She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.
She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.
“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.
She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.
“Yes. It’s okay.”
“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”
“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.
It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.
Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.
His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”
She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.
Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.
He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.
When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.
With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.
It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”
“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.
“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”
“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”
He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.
“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”
“Yes...more than.”
He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.
He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.
Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.
He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.
Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.
Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.
“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.
She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.
“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.
She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.
From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.
He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.
Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.
“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.
He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”
“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”
“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.
There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.
He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.
It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.
“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”
“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”
“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”
“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”
Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”
He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.
“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.
“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.
“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”
He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.
“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.
And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.
“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.
Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.
Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.
She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.
“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.
As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.
“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”
“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.
“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.
When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.
“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.
And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.
“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”
She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.
“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”
She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.
He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.
“You’re lovelier.”
He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”
“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”
“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”
“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”
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As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.
“You cold still?”  He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.
“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.
Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”
“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”
“You’re a very mean girl.”
“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”
“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.
“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”
She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.
Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.
“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”
He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”
“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.
Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.
“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.
“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.
“Listening? What are you listening to?”
He strokes her cheek, “A song.”
She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”
“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”
“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”
Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”
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SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3
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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years
Text
Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V
Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.
MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX
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“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.
Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”
Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.
The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.
Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.
He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.
Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.
Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.
If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,
The lights being on make me feel safe.
It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.
This fire makes him feel safe now.
He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.
But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.
He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.
Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.
He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,
Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.
It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.
And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————
“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.
“Francisco.”
“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”
“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”
“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.
A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”
He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.
Little ways she says mine.
And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.
He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”
Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”
“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.
Don’t leave me, it says.
“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”
His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.
“Yeah, baby?”
He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.
“I have nightlights.”
The light makes her feel safe too. —————
He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.
Relief mingled with guilt.
Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.
Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.
Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.
Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.
His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.
At least I can feel my fucking head.
He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.
The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.
He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.
The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.
He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.
Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.
He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.
What a present to bring home.
It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.
If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.
Others tied up in a flag with a bow.
Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.
I should’ve done more.
He’s not getting a purple heart for this.
I should’ve held on tighter.
He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.
I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.
Another family he’s failed to protect.
I should’ve said no. —————
The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.
Wednesday, the eleventh of October.
Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.
“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.
“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”
Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.
I'm right here, it says.
“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”
“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.
“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”
He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”
“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”
“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”
Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”
He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”
“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”
“Debatable.”
“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”
He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”
“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”
He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”
She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.
“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”
His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”
He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.
He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.
Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.
He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.
“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”
He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.
His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.
TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ 
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itsany62 · 3 years
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SteveTony - Meet-Cute
Here you have some meet-cute to brighten your day. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!
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I Second that Emotion, by firebrands, pre-serum Steve, 3 k > words.
Steve Rogers’ night is shaping up to be a disaster. He curses to himself as he makes his way through his small apartment for the third time, picking up pillows and strewn about clothes in an attempt to find his mock-ups. “Fuck!” he shouts, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands, feeling utterly defeated. Steve looks up at the sound of soft tap-tapping of paws against the wooden floor and Dodger sticks his head right under the crook of Steve’s shoulder to peer up at him.
good directions by parkrstark, 3 k > words, Single Dad Steve.
"Way up yonder past the caution light, there's a little country store with an old coke sign. First, you gotta ask Miss Romanoff for some of her sweet tea. Best I've ever had on this side of the Mason Dixon."
The man was smiling softly. "Oh, is it now?"
"Wouldn't lie about sweet tea, sir," Steve replied seriously. "After you try some for yourself, you can take a left at the turn, and it'll take you to the interstate."
The man nodded his head, but he hesitated as if he didn't want to leave.
Steve cleared his throat, daring to shoot his shot. The worst that could happen was that the man could laugh at him. "But, if you take a right, it'll take you right back here to me."
Swiping Right by S_Horne, 5 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”
Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.
Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.
“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”
Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?
The Pawfect Meeting by FestiveFerret, 5 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
Steve's annoyed when a man brings his kid to the dog park without a dog - it's a dog park, not a daycare - but the kid turns out to be calm and gentle, and the dad turns out to be smoking hot.
Then he turns out to be sweet, and kind, and funny, and wonderful too...
Love and Other Words by kenzithewriter, 4 k > words, Alternate Universe - Bookstore.
When Pepper drags Tony along to a local book signing event, the last thing he meant to do is go on a long winded rant about a book series to a complete stranger, but then he also hadn't been planning on joining Pepper at all, so there's that. Fun meet-cute idea that wouldn't leave me alone.
Christmas Rush by FestiveFerret, 1 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
The inside of the store was packed to the gills with last minute gift buyers, and Tony grit his teeth and elbowed his way in. He dodged carts all the way to the Disney area and started scanning the aisles. Halfway down was the Frozen 2 section. Tony checked the boxes. Elsa… Anna… Elsa… Olaf… shit.
There was an empty shelf where the Bruni toys were supposed to be.
From Philly to Brooklyn by FestiveFerret, 3 k > words, Single Dad Steve.
"Sorry," Steve murmured, exhausted from balancing his humiliation with sympathy for his exhausted son.
The man waved a hand vaguely towards his head. "Too much loud music and machinery. Doesn't bother me. He okay?"
"Yeah." Steve sighed. "Just been a long day."
Peter stopped sobbing for a moment to rub a snail trail across the front of Steve's shirt to turn and face the man, brow furrowed with skepticism.
Steve shook his head, unable to help smiling.
"Hey, kiddo," the man said. His lips twitched to the side. "What have you got to complain about, huh? Too many bills to pay? Boss treating you badly? Furnace needs replacing?”
And When You Smile (The Whole World Stops and Stares For a While) by Iggysassou, 2 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
"Tony winced as the baby in his arms let out another deafening scream, earning several disapproving frowns and a few sympathetic wince from nearby passengers.
Of all the days for his car to break down and Happy to be on holiday, it had to be the day Peter was throwing the biggest, loudest tantrum in his (albeit short) life. And as if it wasn’t bad enough, Tony hadn’t been able to get a taxi so they were riding a bus home. It was a supposed to be a short ride according to his phone but of course there was traffic because it was both raining and rush hour and Tony felt very much like crying as Peter let out another wail."
Inspired by this prompt: "I'm on the bus with my baby who won't stop crying, except you just smiled at them and they did”
When Love Comes Knocking (You Out) by itsallAvengers, 8 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
Steve really just wanted to buy some goddamn groceries.
Instead, he tries to help a kid who's managed to get lost in a Walmart parking lot and ends up being punched in the face by his irate and panicked father.
Surprisingly, this doesn't turn out as badly as it sounds.
A Second Chance to Take It Slow by ohjustpeachy, 4 k > words, Single Dad Tony.
Tony loves his adopted son, Peter, but that doesn't stop him from wishing he had someone to do this whole parenting thing with. After a failed one night stand, Tony's parent-teacher conference with Mr. Rogers comes with quite the surprise.
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firstdatedaisy · 2 years
Text
Do Not Disturb
I went out of town with Gold Coast Guy. It was horrible. I could walk you through everything that made the trip so bad but I will spare you having to buy a new phone after you accidentally throw yours out the window in anger. Here are the highlights:
Mansplaining 
“You have to press the button to get the ticket in the parking lot.” - My response: “I’m sorry do you think this is my first time in a parking lot?”
“You have to press the button to call the elevator.” - My response: “I did.” 
Control Issues
 He told me to drive the speed limit even though he chilled in the left lane the whole time picking music on his phone, making people pass in the right lane and not understanding the directions that were displayed and being said to him. I still had to tell him where to go and which exits to take and he still didn’t believe anything or anyone except his own brain. At one point I yelled at him saying “DUDE, drive 50 more feet and turn right around that building. Do it. Now.” 
He told me he would let me play my music when I drove because he didn’t like my music. *cue 3 hours sitting in silence while he listened to his music even though we had made a playlist together for the trip. 
When the GPS stopped working when we were in our hometown I told him I knew where I was and would get is back. He checked his GPS multiple times and just started clicking everything on the dash to get the navigation person to stop talking. I asked him to trust me to get us home safely. 
While I was driving he reached over and turned on the windshield wipers. Yeah. I had to explain how the drivers area is my area and he can ask if he wants the window clean. 
He told me to drive in the same lane the whole way back. 
He told me I didn’t have to wear a mask because Ohio has no mask mandate and if I wear my mask no one can see my face. 
He told me not to talk to homeless people or give them money because they won’t spend it on “good” things. 
He tried to give me permission to drink wine. 
He didn’t want to do anything I recommended and then told me he was board. 
He wouldn’t believe me when I told him e-cigs have nicotine in them, but he would believe google. 
He wouldn’t believe me when I told him there are women athletes who can dunk as good as Lebron, but he believed 3 men when I crowd sourced the question. 
He wouldn’t tell me the plans and just expected me to follow him blindly in this new city. 
General Bullshit
He smoked his e-cig in the hotel room even though I told him I had quit smoking almost 6 years ago. 
He refuses to go down on me but expects me to suck his dick. That didn’t last long. 
He accused me of asking “political” questions. Questions like “What did you think of the Tinder Swindler?” “Why do you put a high importance on financial gain?” 
He asked me “Why do you hate your country?” and when I started to respond he interrupted me and said it was a rhetorical question. (I don’t hate America, by the way)
He was too tired to make conversation with me at the bar but then had a full blown conversation with the Lyft driver. 
Every time I asked what led him to his opinion on something or how he learned about the avocado shortage that is happening right now or like why he thinks Gary is a shit town - he would tell me to google it. 
This “man” took me to his hometown and had to google how to get to everywhere. Including the bar that was DOWN THE BLOCK and we could see the sign. I could have helped but like I said above, he wasn’t sharing any plans.  
He got off on a random exit saying we were going to Taco Bell for breakfast (thanks for asking I would like some coffee but hey, fuck what I want) and when I looked it up there was no Taco Bell for 50 miles. He told me I was wrong and then he looked it up and got the same results. We went to McDonalds. 
He didn’t go see his parents. Turns out a week ago he found out they got Covid but didn’t tell me until we were an hour out of Cincinnati. I asked him why he didn’t tell me he said “Why does it matter I’m telling you now.”...............So we went on this trip for no reason. 
He doesn’t listen at all. 
He never cooks and orders delivery for every meal- in real life, not just on vacation. 
Moving forward: I will not be seeing him again. 
My catch phrase for the weekend was - “Hey guess what, I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want to do. “
His catch phrase for the weekend was - “I don’t know, google it.” 
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teruthecreator · 3 years
Note
THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)
just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it) 
gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long
so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me
fitzroy maplecourt: 
first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school! 
my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.
not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country. 
he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care! 
unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him. 
his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie
 the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens: 
he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table. 
the table blows up.
after that, he has magic!!! 
i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.
he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!
well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!) 
he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic. 
but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy
argonaut keene:
he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!
argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present! 
basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon. 
what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!
shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years! 
and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.
after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!
he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.
eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation. 
and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past. 
he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud. 
the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.
the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic 
like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It
argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression
he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite
that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:
as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.
fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out 
argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh! 
now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain
fitzroy’s magic:
chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order! 
my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun. 
my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent. 
which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply. 
his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.
i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic. 
i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can. 
order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”
OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.
okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION
argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:
so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of. 
moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.
generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It
a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life
also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing. 
i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.
OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed. 
during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!
OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already: 
in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually
okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him. 
only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow. 
hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.
now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.
so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!
he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell. 
hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz. 
also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.
firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him. 
fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle. 
uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!
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thebluenoteblog · 4 years
Text
and i will give you everything | part one
Summary: You meet Tyler in a bar and spend the night together. Though you have no idea who he is, just looking at him has your brain screaming ‘run’. Little do you know that the first night was just the beginning of a much longer story you would share with him.
Player: Tyler Seguin
Word Count: 6.2k
Warnings: Smut, cursing
You were two drinks in and halfway people watching from the mirror in front of you. It was a favorite hobby of yours. You loved to pick a person and assign them a name, a personality, hobbies, and a life based on what you saw. Your current victim? His assigned name was Dustin. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a camouflage baseball hat to complete the look. He sat leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide with a beer resting on his knee.
You imagined that his Tinder bio was ‘Country boy stuck in the city’. He’d probably never been outside of the city in his life, but he drove a lifted truck and acted like he was the shit because of it. Dustin listened to exclusively country music. He had a deer head hanging in his house that he didn’t kill because he’d never been hunting in his life. His dad killed the deer, you decided. His dad was probably raised out in the country.
You lifted your beer to your lips and were about to shift your attention to one of Dustin’s friends when a gust of warm air washed over you. You turned you head toward the door and you immediately decided to scrap Dustin and his friends.
This new man was so much more interesting.
He paused inside the door and looked around the bar, lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his long dark hair. Your eyes followed his tattooed arms as they moved. Hunter. You’d call him Hunter. You averted your eyes to the mirror and watched him move to the row of barstools.
The bar wasn’t that busy, there were a few groups of people, but he had his choice of seats. He sat down on a stool a few spots down from you and you frowned but hid it by taking a sip of your beer. The bartender made his way over to him and Hunter ordered some beer that you hadn’t ever had before. He had an accent. Canadian maybe? Definitely not from Dallas.
He crossed his arms and leaned them on the bar as he waited for his drink. You continued to watch him in the mirror and decided that he was a personal trainer. He worked in a gym, maybe owned his own. He definitely owned his own gym. He rode a motorcycle. He had that air of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ about him that when paired with those looks that made you think that he had never had a serious relationship in his life.
The bartender set his drink on the bar in front of his folded arms and Hunter thanked him and raised the bottle to his lips. You watched his throat move as he swallowed. His Tinder bio was probably something like ‘If you aren’t down for a good time, swipe left’. He looked like he would be a really good time.
You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn’t catch him shifting his eyes toward you in the mirror. You usually would have noticed and averted your gaze to your drink or the bottles lining the shelves, but he had you so distracted that you didn’t notice his attention shifting to you.
Your eyes met in the mirror and he held your stare as he brought the bottle back to his lips. There was an air of danger in his eyes. Not the ‘I’m going to get murdered in an alley’ kind of danger. It was more of the ‘I need to abort mission before I get my body and heart destroyed by this man’ kind of danger.
You broke eye contact first, looking down at your hands wrapped around your beer. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hunter set down his bottle, lift his hat and run his fingers through his hair. You chanced a glance up in the mirror to find him still staring at you.
This time you didn’t look away. You didn’t have time before he stood up from his stool and moved to take a seat beside you. Your heart raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to meet the people you had assigned personalities to. Especially not the ones who looked like walking, talking, time bombs.
A minute of silence passed before he spoke, “So,” he said, “did you catch that Stars game tonight?”
You frowned. Sports fan. You looked closely at his hat and noticed now that he was sitting closer, the logo looked to be for a sports team. You should have picked up on that. “I’m not going to lie to you,” you responded, “I haven’t watched a hockey game since I was about ten years old.”
Something lit up in his eyes and he said, “I’m Tyler.”
“(Y/N),” you said, twisting your bottle in your hands. You knew his real name now. Very far from Hunter. Tyler suited him. It was better. He brought his beer to his lips again, then set it back down on the bar, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”
He smiled, it wasn’t exactly directed at you. It seemed more like he was smiling at whatever the question made him think of. “I’m from Ontario. What gave it away?”
“Accent,” you stated, shrugging as you took a sip of your drink.
He chuckled lightly, “I’m surprised you picked up on it. It isn’t that strong.”
“I’m observant,” you said. When your favorite hobby was trying to tell a person’s story with as little information as possible, you learned to pick up on the smallest details.
He nodded, leaning an elbow against the bar and angling his body toward you. “So am I,” he said. “I observed that tattoo on your wrist. What does it say?”
You glanced down at the tattoo on the inside of your right wrist and flipped your hand over, showing him. “It’s a sibling tattoo. My brother, sister and got them together. Mine says baby sister.”
He pointed to just above his collarbone, “I have matching tattoos with my sisters too.”
You smiled, “You have sisters?”
He nodded, “Yeah, two of them.”
“Do they live here or in Ontario?” You asked him.
He glanced sideways over your shoulder, then back at you. “Ontario. My whole family lives there. They visit a lot though.”
“It’s nice that they get to come down and see you, at least,” you said. You lifted your beer to your lips and took another drink. This time you finished it and set it down. You frowned at the now empty bottle and sighed as you moved to get the bartenders attention.
Tyler beat you to it, holding out a hand. The bartender was there in a second, “What can I get for you?” He asked.
Tyler nodded his head toward you, “Whatever she wants, put it on my tab.”
You frowned at him. Here came that danger part that you had pegged him for. You may have been wrong about his name and you may have failed to notice that he was representing a sports team with his hat. However, you were unlikely to believe that you were wrong when you had declared him a danger to women everywhere.
That was not what you needed in your life.
But dear god, did you have a habit of getting caught up in exactly that.
You ordered your drink and it appeared in front of you faster than you’d ever had a drink delivered in your life. “Can I get you anything else?” The bartender asked.
Tyler shook his head, “Thank you.”
He made his way to customers at the other end of the bar and Tyler turned back to you. “So, what about you? Are you from around here?” he asked.
“Born and raised,” you said proudly. “I don’t think I’d ever move away. Travel a bit maybe, but I’ll always come back.”
He nodded, “I get it. Home is home. I left when I was pretty young though, so I guess it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“Why did you leave so young?” You asked, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. You couldn’t imagine having moved out of your parents’ house before you were twenty, let alone leaving the town or the country.
He frowned and stared at his beer, moving to balance it on his knee, which was turned toward you. “I had goals to accomplish.”
“Did you accomplish them?” you asked, genuinely curious now.
He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He looked back up at you, “What about you? Do you have any big goals that you were out to achieve?”
You smiled fondly at the thought, “I want to get a book published. I haven’t quite gotten there yet.”
“One thing I’ve learned is that if you work hard, anything is possible,” he said. “You’ll get it if you want it badly enough.”
“That was so cheesy,” you said, laughing a little and looking down at your hands.
He shrugged, “I believe it though.”
You glanced up through your lashes at him and your eyes met. There was that danger. That surefire look in his eyes that made this voice in the back of your head scream ‘Red alert! Abort mission! T minus X amount of time before this man ruins your life if you let this continue!’. That being said, you had a horrible habit of ignoring your better judgment.
Your eyes stayed locked for longer than they should have and neither of you said anything. Finally, he cleared his throat and broke the silence, “Are you any good at darts?”
You grinned, “I bet I could totally kick your ass.”
He laughed, a huge amused laugh, “We’ll see about that.”
You stood up at the same time at him and you found yourselves standing with just centimeters between you. He was taller than you had realized, or maybe it just seemed that way now that he was towering about a foot above you with your chest almost brushing his. You looked up at him and he swallowed before moving away from you.
As you made your way over to the dart board, he rested a hand on your lower back. You walked past Dustin and his friends and noticed their eyes on the two of you. It wasn’t you they were looking at though, they were watching Tyler. One of them leaned forward and whispered something to another as you walked past, all you caught was the word, “Hockey”. You glanced over at Tyler to see if he had noticed their odd behavior, but he was staring straight ahead, no look of recognition on his face.
You shrugged it off as you arrived at the dart boards on the other side of the bar. He dropped his hand and grabbed the darts, handing yours to you. “Best two out of three?” He asked.
You shrugged your shoulders, turning to face the board, “I mean if you don’t think you can beat me the first time around then yeah, I guess.”
He nodded his head while he laughed at you, “You’re cocky for someone who has no idea what they’re up against.”
“Or maybe you’re just underestimating me,” You responded. “I’ll let you go first since you’re so sure of yourself.”
He was still laughing and shaking his head as he moved into position. He threw the dart and it was a good shot, you would admit that. He turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. A challenge. So, he was competitive. This was something to file away for sure. You couldn’t help yourself, you smiled sweetly and said, “Cute.”
He huffed and turned back around, throwing the rest. He did well, but you knew you could do better. You grew up with a dart board in your basement. You had been determined to compete with your dad and your brother for the position as the top dart player in the family since you were six years old.
Your first dart hit the center of the board. You turned to Tyler and raised an eyebrow. He frowned at you for a second before forcing himself to smile. “Cute.” You laughed and turned back to the board. When you finished throwing, it was safe to say that you won.
“Do you still want to go two out of three?” You asked him. He was frowning with his arms crossed.
“Of course, I do. I’m not just going to admit defeat,” he said.
You won again.
He was halfway pouting as you took your seats back at the bar, “I bet I would beat you at pool,” he said. “Hardly anyone beats me.”
“I bet you would beat me too,” you said as you lifted your beer to your lips again, finishing your third for the night. “I’m horrible at pool.”
He grinned, “We should definitely play then. I have a pool table. I’ve got a ping pong table too.”
You tilted your head, “I don’t know, I’m pretty good at ping pong, you might not want to risk losing again.”
He laughed, “I promise not to throw the paddle.”
“Well I would hope not,” you said, “You’d be breaking your own stuff.”
“Like you’ve never gotten mad and broken something?” He said, though it was more of a question.
You giggled and covered your face with your hand, “I’m really going to plead the fifth on that question.”
“That just makes me want to know even more,” he said, leaning forward toward you. “Come on. It sounds like a good story.”
“It sounds like an incriminating story,” you said, moving closer to him. “I don’t need any more people knowing about it than already do.”
He frowned, “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
Eventually. What was his game plan here? He looked like the classic ‘love them and leave them’ type. There would be no eventually. There would be tonight and that was it. You would probably go back to your house. He would be gone the second you fell asleep. You would never see him again.
But he’d said something about having a pool table at his house and playing ping pong with you. So, what was his game plan? What was he doing? This was why guys like him were so dangerous.
You shook your head, “That would take a while.”
“I’m up for the challenge,” he said, “I don’t give up easily.”
He pulled away, putting some distance between the two of you and brought his beer to his lips, finished it, then set it down on the bar. “We’re both out. Do you want another one?”
“No,” you sighed, leaning back. “I should stop while I’m ahead.”
He grinned, “Whatever you say, (Y/N).” It was the first time he’d used your name and it made your stomach flip. Maybe the alcohol had hit you harder than you thought it had. “Do you want to come back to my place? We can play some ping pong.” He nodded his head toward the pool table in the center of the room, “Pool is no fun if we know that I’m going to win.”
You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and watched as his eyes drifted down to your mouth. “I guess I’m not opposed to that.”
Tyler pulled out his wallet and held out his card. The bartender dropped was he was doing was grabbed it. “Run her tab too,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said, already in the process of digging your wallet out of your purse.
He waved you off and the bartender ignored your protest as he ran the card then handed Tyler two checks and a pen. You weren’t snooping. You just happened to catch out of the corner of your eye that he left an insanely large tip for what combined to be a $30 bill.
You eyed him as he pushed the receipts and the pen across the bar. He definitely wasn’t some small business owner like you had suspected. Looks like you had been off the mark again. He stood and smiled at you, “Ready to go? I’ll drive. You’ve had a few.”
You frowned. You hadn’t thought ahead to the point that you would be trapped in a house without your car with a man you had just met an hour ago. He seemed to notice the battle raging inside your head and he gave you a kind smile, one that contrasted so deeply with the image you had been building of him as this man who destroyed women’s hearts as a hobby. “I’ll bring you back to your car whenever you want.”
You relented. Who were you kidding, you had never been the poster child for good decision making anyway. Why start now? With full knowledge that your sister was going to kill you for this when you filled her in the next morning, you nodded and said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
He placed a hand on your lower back as he led you out of the bar, and you would swear that you could feel the eyes of Dustin and his friends on your backs as you left.
<><><><><><>
There was a part of this story that you were missing. Usually when given so many pieces of a puzzle, you would fabricate something. However, now that you knew his name, where he was from, how young he was when he left home and how many siblings he had, it felt weird to speculate on why you were pulling up to a massive house in a ridiculously expensive car. Now that you had two more pieces to this puzzle, the large tip seemed a little less strange.
You had paused and stared at the car when he walked up to it and opened the door for you. You’d raised your eyebrows as if to ask, are you joking? And he had just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at you. Proud. He was proud of his car.
Now he was unlocking his front door and pushing it open. As soon as the two of you stepped inside, three dogs came sprinting into the entryway. All labs which made you smile. You dropped down to your knees and scratched behind the ears of the yellow lab that was trying desperately to fit in your lap.
“Gerry,” Tyler chastised him, “You aren’t a puppy anymore, you don’t fit!”
“Oh,” you said, reaching out a hand to rub down the back of the chocolate lab that was trying to lick your face, “Labs are my favorite animals. I like dogs, but I love labs.”
He reached down to scratch the chin of the black lab, “Technically they’re the same thing.”
“They aren’t though,” you said. “You obviously know that. That’s why you have three of them.”
“You’ve got me there,” he said. “Come on boys, outside.”
You frowned and stood up, following him as he walked through the house to the back door. He opened it and ushered the dogs outside. “Go on. Don’t look at me like that, Marshall. I’ll feed you later.”
The chocolate lab turned and walked off into the back yard, following his brothers. “They’re cute,” you said.
“They are,” he responded as he pushed the door closed and turned to face you. “Ping-pong?”
“Do you want to risk losing again?” You asked.
He smiled, “I’ll take the chance. This way.”
You followed him through the house and ended up in a home gym that also contained a ping-pong table. He picked up a paddle and handed it to you, “Loser takes a shot of fireball?”
“Deal,” you said, “This is a little unfair though because I’ve already had three drinks and you’ve only had one.”
He grinned, “You better win then.”
“Challenge accepted.”
You lost.
“Best two out of three!” You protested, picking the ball up off the floor.
He shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. Terms are decided before the game starts. Bottoms up.”
“You’re just bitter because I beat you at darts,” you said, tossing the ball at him. He batted it away with his hand. “I let you go two out of three, it isn’t my fault that you suck to badly to beat me.” He smiled, and he looked more amused than anything.
“I’m really okay with it, we’re even now.”
You put a hand on your hip, “Not we aren’t, I beat you twice.”
“You’re taking the shot, you lost fair and square.”
A few minutes later you were standing in his kitchen and he was pouring out a shot for you. He slid it across the island to you. “Did I mention that I hate fireball?” You asked, “I’ve had some pretty bad experiences with it.”
“Man up and take the shot,” he said.
You huffed, “I never said I wouldn’t. I just said that I don’t like it.”
Before he could say anything else, you threw back the shot then set the glass back on the counter. You wrinkled your nose as you refocused your eyes on him. “Are you satisfied?”
He was staring at you, palms leaned on the counter. “Something like that.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, “What do you mean?”
Feign innocence. That was a safe bet. Pretend you had no idea that he brought you here for sex. Pretend that you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you, those brown eyes even darker now than they had been in the dim light of the bar.
He maintained eye contact with you as he walked around the island, coming to a stop in front of you. The way he moved so slowly without taking his eyes off of you reminded you of a something big and scary stalking its prey in the best possible way. Your breath hitched when he came to a stop in front of you. With just inches between you, each with one hand on the island, he noticed.
The corners of his mouth turned up. When you looked into his eyes you saw it again. It was there, clear as day. That danger that screamed ‘Run! Run for the hills!’ but when moved his hand from the countertop and ran it up your arm, settling it on your neck, you didn’t run. You let your eyes drift closed as he leaned down to kiss you.
Just before your lips met, a set of paws jumped on the door. You both startled, then laughed. He whispered, “Fucking dog,” with his hand still on your neck and his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath when he spoke.
You opened your eyes and looked up at him, “You should probably let them in. They’ve been out there for a while.”
He sighed but straightened up anyway, removing his hand and taking a step back from you. You immediately missed having him so close. “They’re so spoilt,” he said. “It’s like fifty-five degrees outside and they have fur. The weather is perfect.”
“They would rather be with you,” you said. “They’re labs. They’re attention whores.”
He laughed as he walked out of the kitchen and around the corner to let the dogs into the house. “Come on in boys. You already ruined the fun.”
The dogs came barreling into the house and ran straight for the couch where they all laid down. Gerry grabbed a toy along the way and sat there chewing it, squeaker going off at about the same rate that your heart had been beating when Tyler was about to kiss you. Tyler walked over to the couch and pulled the toy away from him, “Sorry, Gerry.” He said, “That’s not happening right now.” He grabbed a toy shaped like a tire off the floor and tossed it to him. “Here, play with this.”
Gerry looked betrayed but accepted the peace offering.
Tyler put the squeaky toy up on the mantel and walked back over to you. “I’m sorry. They’re my kids.”
Fuck. Why was he so… likable? It was just another thing to add to the list of reasons he was so dangerous. You quickly reminded yourself that after tonight, you would probably never see him again and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have the time to fuck with your head or your heart. He could have your body for one night, that’s all you were giving him, that’s all he would ask for.
He closed the distance between you. Without saying anything, he placed a hand on your hip and pulled you against him. You looked up at him slowly, taking in his tattooed bicep and his broad shoulders along the way. His hand drifted around to the small of your back and for the first time you realized how large they were.
You wondered what he could do with them.
That thought had you biting your lip to keep yourself from asking him to show you. He reached his free hand up and with the pad of his thumb, pulled it free. Tyler moved his hand to the back of your neck and he leaned down to press his lips to yours.
The kiss started slow, just a brush of his lips over yours. Then you swiped the tip of your tongue over his lower lip and he hummed as he pulled you tighter against him. He deepened the kiss and he tasted like whatever beer it was that he had been drinking earlier. He nipped at your lower lip and you reached your hands up from where they were tucked against his chest to wrap around his neck.
When his slipped his tongue inside your mouth, you ran your fingers up into his hair, knocking his hat off and onto the floor. He pulled back, moving his hand from your neck to rest on your arm. You frowned, “Are you that attached to your hat? Because I like the hat, but I really like your hair.”
He chuckled, “No, no,” he said, “It’s just…” he looked over his shoulder at where there were three pairs of dog eyes fixed on the two of you, “Like I said, they’re my kids. This is weird.”
You laughed, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
Tyler nodded, “Preferably.”
He started to walk toward the stairs, then paused and ran back to where you’d been standing to pick up his hat off the floor. You threw back your head and laughed at him.
“Shut up,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly as he walked past you, “I like this one.”
You followed him up the stairs and before you made it to a room, he turned around and grabbed you. His lips were on yours and you were pinned up against a wall. You had your hands up and on the back of his neck, holding him against you as soon as you registered what was happening.
He lowered himself and lifted your leg up around his hip. You got the hint and wrapped both legs around his waist. He straightened up and made his way down the hallway, never breaking contact with your lips.
He kicked a door open and then kicked it shut again after he’d carried you through it. You didn’t open your eyes or pull away from his lips to look around the room, but you figured out that you were in a bedroom when he laid you down on a bed.
You kept your legs wrapped around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. You moved your lips to the side of his mouth, brushed them across his cheek, then scrapped your teeth over his beard. He groaned and lifted you, moving you up the bed and laying your head on the pillows.
You were pretty sure he wasn’t pulling away at that point, so you unlocked your legs. His hand slid under your shirt, pushing it up over your stomach. He pulled away and you successfully resisted the urge to whine. He pulled you up and continued to pull on your shirt. You lifted your arms and he pulled it over your head. He made a move to push you back down, but you resisted and ran your hands under his shirt and over his stomach. He yanked it off and tossed it to the side, then tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his.
You wanted a chance to look at his tattoos, but you would take this too. He reached behind you and unhooked your bra with one hand, danger, and pulled back to toss it off the bed in the same direction that he had tossed his shirt. He lowered you back to the pillows and trailed his mouth down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Every time he did your breath hitched.
He cupped your breast with his hand, his very large hand, and moved his mouth to cover your nipple. You threaded your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and he nipped and sucked. Despite your hand holding him in place, he moved to your other breast and did much the same thing.
He dipped his head between your breast and then trailed down your stomach while looking up at you through his eyelashes. He looked devious, and it was really doing it for you. He reached the button of your pants and stared at you for a moment. Waiting so see if you would stop him? Building suspense? It was hard to tell.
He pulled your pants off and they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. When he sat up to pull off your pants, you got your first good look at him. He was… a work of art. His tattoos were beautiful. His body was amazing. He was looking at you like you meant something even though you knew you didn’t.
Maybe that was why he was dangerous. He made you feel like you mattered when you didn’t.
Tyler pushed your thighs apart and ran his thumb over the black lace covering your pussy. You knew you were soaked and when his eyes snapped up from where his he was teasing you to meet yours you knew that he knew it too. “So wet for me already?”
You swallowed as his words only served to reinforce his point.
He pulled the lace out of the way and ran his rough thumb through your wetness, spreading it up to your clit which he circled. You couldn’t resist the small moan that fell from your lips and as soon as the sound left you he removed his thumb and yanked your panties down your legs before tossing them over his shoulder.
He dropped down, settling his face between your thighs. He nipped at the inside of your thigh, then he moved up closer to where you wanted him and sucked a mark just below the crease of your leg. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his mouth hovering over you as he looked up at you. You could see the spark in his eyes, he was enjoying this. He wanted you to beg.
You weren’t going to beg. At the very least you were going to be a brat about it. “Eat my pussy, Tyler,” you said without hesitation, voice breathless, hand moving to tangle in his hair.
He blinked at you, maybe a little surprised, then grinned and did just what you asked. His licked up your slit and circled your clit then dove back down and licked up more of you. He hummed against you, and said, “So good.”
He wrapped his hands around your thighs and held them tightly. Tight enough that he may leave bruises, but you weren’t going to worry about that when he was flicking his tongue over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hand tightened in his hair and you squeezed your eyes shut when he sucked and ran the flat of his tongue over your clit sending you headfirst into an orgasm.
He licked you until you pushed his head away, then he crawled back up your body and hovered over you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to capture his lips and moaned when he tasted like you. He pushed you back down, but you pushed his shoulder and flipped him over to straddle his lap.
His eyes roamed over your body and his hands followed, ghosting over your sides and landing on your breasts. You pulled away from his hands and he grunted, reaching for you but gave up and laid back against the pillows when he realized what you were doing. You scooted off of his legs and pulled his pants off, they too joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
You ran your hand over the outline of his cock, never breaking eye contact with him as you pulled his boxer briefs down. “Calvin Klein. So cliché of you.” You said softly, pretending that his size wasn’t making you want to scrap whatever ideas you’d previously had and jump on his cock right that moment.
He grunted and grabbed your hand, then moved it to his dick. “Do you just want my hand, or do you want something else?” You asked him.
“Hell,” he said, “If you’re offering I’ll take it.”
“You’ll take what?” You asked.
He grinned, “Put that pretty mouth on my cock, (Y/N).”
You swallowed and did exactly as he had told you. You ducked your head and took him into your mouth. He tangled his hands in your hair and pushed deeper. You put a hand on his thigh and he got the hint, backing off a little.
He watched you and you kept your eyes locked with his through your lashes the entire time. His hand guided your head, keeping you at the pace he wanted. He groaned, “Fuck,” again and you noted that he must really like that word.
He pulled you up and the rolled you off of him and onto your knees. He ran a hand down your back and then he was pulling off his underwear and leaning across the bed to grab a condom out of the night stand. You heard the package rip open and then he was behind you again, with a hand on your shoulder and the other guiding himself into you.
He didn’t give you time to get used to him, but you weren’t complaining. He pushed you down onto your elbows and spread your legs farther. He knew exactly what he wanted. You buried your face in the pillow to stifle your moans and he didn’t like that. He reached around and pulled the pillow away from you. “Let me hear you.”
“Shit,” you said, breathless as you rested your head up on your forearms, “So good.”
He groaned and reached around to circle his fingers around your clit. “Come for me, (Y/N).”
You fisted your hand in the sheets and moaned out his name as you did just that.  Maybe it was his cock, maybe it was his fingers, maybe it was his words, but damn if that wasn’t the best orgasm you’d ever had. A moment later his fingers tightened on your shoulder as he finished.
He paused for a moment and rubbed up and down your back before he pulled out of you and walked into the bathroom. You collapsed onto the bed and buried your face in your folded arms. You needed to leave tonight. You needed to have him drive you back to your car and never see him again because now there were so many clear-cut reasons that you brain screamed, ‘run’ when you looked at him.
Then he came back from the bathroom and awkwardly handed you a damp washcloth, almost like he’d never done it before. You sat up and took it from him, “Thank you,” you said, and he pulled on his underwear before disappearing into the closet while you cleaned yourself up.
He emerged a moment later with a t-shirt in his hand and traded with you, taking the washcloth and tossing it in the hamper. You stared at the t-shirt for a moment before pulling it over your head. Again, you said, “Thank you.”
He nodded and walked around to the side of the bed that you weren’t sitting on and pulled the covers back, “The dogs are going to be so mad that I’m not letting them sleep in here tonight.”
You frowned, “Don’t kick them out all because of me.”
He shrugged, “They’ll get over it.” He rolled onto his side facing you, presumably waiting for you to come lay down with him. Every instinct told you that this was a horrible idea, but his eyes looked so hopeful that you couldn’t say no. You grabbed the pillow from where Tyler had thrown it at the end of the bed and put it back in its rightful place, then laid down beside him.
He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. Neither of you said anything as you fell asleep.
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goodproofingwater · 4 years
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Chapter 16 | Tinder Tommy
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Words: 1953 Notes: hello my lovelies, i am so sorry that this has taken so long - i feel like this has literally been months and you deserve better! lots of shit has been happening in my life which has meant that i haven’t really had the focus to do anything but watch brooklyn 99 or peaky blinders for the 500th time, but ya girl is back for now! I hope that you are all still with me and are looking forward to seeing how Tommy works with his new found affection! This chapter pairs directly with @idesiretomhardy​‘s Mr Solomons story (in that the dialogue is the same in parts, and the timelines are the same. These stories exist in the same universe. Enjoy!
Taglist (just send me a message if you would like to be added):
@a-dorky-book-keeper @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @idesiretomhardy @theamuz @blinderscaps @peakywriting @justanothershelby @contemporary-mary @auroravipers @moonyscardigans @peakysxshelby @miss-shelby-barnes @vintage-fantasyyy @ly—canthrope @morgan-1830 @i-love-you-green @l0tsofpennies @exploringmycosmicsoul @maah-chan @peakyblindersengland
The journey to Birmingham was almost pleasant. The first class ticket his assistant had scored him came with whiskey and although he couldn’t smoke, the journey was so seamless that he was only craving a cigarette when he stepped into the fresh air of Birmingham new street.
It had always amazed him in the way it only could a local to Birmingham that he could get to between the London office and the place it had all began in a matter of hours. He remembered when he had to call a car to get to the London office when it just started up, when the trains were so shit that he had to rely on his own mileage to get there. But so much had changed since then. He had changed since then.
Tommy Shelby crawled into Small Heath four hours after he had reluctantly left his home in Mayfair, the staff he had in the midlands office a far cry from the suit wearing, polished people in Canary Wharf.
“Good afternoon Mr Shelby,” the receptionist spoke, smiling at him and looking toward the old knocked down wall which led to the rest of what they loosely called the Birmingham office.
The large room had once been three or four terrace houses but had long since been knocked through, a small platform allowed for John to stand by a massive touch screen where he was checking stock prices and the market which was much further from their legitimate business.
The business in the north was far different from the import and export business in the south, and far from legal.
Shelby Company Limited were the first company in history to produce software which allowed the significant players in import and export of illegal goods to check market price, and buy and sell illegal goods on a secure server which was entirely untraceable.
The software was a massive success, and had gained the Shelby name infamy with even the most brutal and violent drug cartels still operating in the 21st century.
“So what was so urgent that I had to get a train up here immediately?”
John stepped aside and showed him the spreadsheet he was working on, and pulled up the share prices for drugs so it sat next to it.
“By all accounts, the cocaine market is following the same pattern as it did 5 years ago”
John didn’t have to go into detail for Tommy to remember the influx of cocaine into the country via a rival London based company, and the price drop which followed due to supply heavily outweighing demand. It had been the main reason Tommy had set up the office in the south.
“Is it Kimber again? Because I swear to god—“
“Not Kimber. His company uses our software now and he called the support team thinking it was a fucking glitch in the system”
Tommy’s brow furrowed as he eyed the prices and the spreadsheet which showed the fluctuations John had been keeping track of since the incident so long ago.  
“And uh.. that’s not all” John spoke, gesturing for Tommy to follow him into his office and he did, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs which sat on the other side of Johns desk while his younger brother poured them whiskey and placed the glasses in front of them. “As well as the share prices I’ve been keeping track of the weight of the product coming in and going out. It’s been declining steadily for the last week. Not by much, not even enough to alert me at the start but it’s going down an ounce each time.”
“So you’re telling me someone is skimming off the top?” And John nodded, sipping his whiskey as he unintentionally mirrored Tommy’s posture, leaning back in his chair with one ankle resting on the other knee.
Tommy let out a sigh, hating that there was yet another issue that he had to deal with. External problems like share prices and supply and demand came with the territory. Internal problems were not something he had patience for.
“Any theories who it is?”
“You mean except Michael?” The malice in Johns voice was matched only by his expression, his hate and disdain for his cousin clear in everything from his brow to his clenched fingers around his glass.
Tommy responded only by rolling his eyes, Michael’s drug problem being something he was fully aware of.
“Michael pays for what he takes. And he pays double. Any real theories?”
John remained quiet, sipping his whiskey and allowing his silence to speak for itself.
“Fantastic.” Tommy sighed, downing his whiskey in one gulp and plucking a cigarette from the case he had pulled from his inside pocket. “Do we at least know which office?”
“Oh it’s definitely up here. The coke is lighter way before it even touches county lines”
Tommy lets out a sigh with the exhale of his cigarette, smoke billowing from his nose as the prospect of someone stealing and the punishment they deserve runs through his mind.
“Alright. I’ll speak to the managers up here separately and let them know what’s going on, ask them to keep an eye. I don’t want either of us up here if there’s a supply/demand problem in case we get raided. These people will get away with saying they were following orders, but we’re the fucking captains.”
John nods, sipping his whiskey and glancing out of the window, his mind clearly trying to puzzle out who it could be as Tommy did the same.
--
Later that evening, Tommy slipped into a bar in new street to wait for an old friend. One that he couldn’t quite believe was even stepping foot in the city.
The room seemed to part for Alfie Solomons, the very air around him bending as he walked into a bar Tommy had picked for its proximity to Alfie’s hotel. The older man was one of the few he would make allowances for, and it had been so long that he would rather take a private car the half an hour into central Birmingham than make the effort to convince him to come to small heath and listen to him complain the whole time.
“Thomas” his booming London accent turned the heads that weren’t already staring at Tommy, and he couldn’t help the bemused smile which washed over his features as he shook his hand and settled to drink his whiskey.
“Alfie, it’s been a while,” he speaks, sipping at his glass knowing full well which comment is coming next.
“Yeah well you don’t get to London as much these days,” He catches the bartender's attention, a woman who eyes up Tommy when she comes over to take his order, her eyes only leaving his friend to make Alfie’s drink.
“You could always come here,” Tommy suggests, causing Alfie to snort. His disdain for the northern city clear in both his response and his body language.
“Mate, the only reason I’m in this shit city is cause of that fucking meeting, couldn’t get me here any other way,” he comments, Tommy giving him a hint of a smile behind his glass which only widens as he watches his friend attempt to hide a selfie of all things which had made its way to his lock screen.
“So, how’s the family then?” Alfie asks.
“Arthur got married,” Tommy tries and fails to keep his distaste for Linda from his voice, and Alfie smirks as he relishes in the hate which is so evident to someone who is also quick to anger.  
“And I wasn’t invited? What’s she like?” He quips
“She’s good for Arthur,” is all Tommy says, the comments he could make about his brother’s new wife unsavoury at best.
It’s then that Alfie’s phone buzzes once again, and with a second glance at his lock screen Tommy can’t keep his comments to himself any longer.
“Who’s that then aye?” Tommy says, inclining his head towards Alfie’s phone. “Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?”
“Yeah mate, I have. She’s fucking brilliant she is,” Alfie says, rolling his eyes at the smirk that crosses his friend’s lips.
“You’re going soft Solomons.”
“Fuck off,” Alfie says, the smile which splits his face something that was a rarity, and the bashfulness something Tommy had never seen in him before. “She wrote that piece on me for The City Scoop.”
“I wondered why that interview was so flattering, fucked your interviewer did you?”
“Took her out to dinner first mate,” he says with a grin, making Tommy shake his head. “I’m telling you, it’s fucking nice having someone around who wil-“
“Suck your cock?”
“She is good at that mate. Nah I’m telling you, it’s nice having a woman around to keep me company,” he says, and Tommy rolls his eyes.
“Fuck, you have gone soft,” Tommy mutters, shaking his head.
“Maybe so. It ain’t that bad though. Maybe it’s time you find yourself a girl, might be good for you.”
Tommy rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink to avoid replying which only causes Alfie’s grin to spread wider his face lighting up.  
“Or do you already have a girl Thomas?”
“I’ve been talking with a woman yes,” he offers, though doesn’t elaborate as he orders another drink.
“Talking aye? And where did you meet her?”
“Tinder,” Tommy mutters, fingers itching to reach into his pocket for a cigarette the no-smoking laws the only thing stopping him.
Alfie scoffs, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his beard while Tommy glares at him.
“What?”
“Fucking tinder? Can’t meet a girl the old-fashioned way, aye?”
Tommy clenches his jaw at the insinuation, choosing not to rise to the comment as his hand reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against his cigarette case.
“Like having a magazine send a journalist to your work? That old way you mean?” He runs the cigarette along his bottom lip and glares at the bartender who moves to tell him that he can’t smoke indoors, piercing eyes daring anyone to test him.
Tommy’s phone lights up and he immediately turns it face down, “besides, easier isn’t it? Haven’t got time to be spending on women in bars or journalists I need to write a good profile about me because I punched someone without thinking.”
The smirk on Tommy’s face tells Alfie that he’s joking, but the bearded man takes a sip of his beer without a hint of amusement washing over his features.
“Never knew Tommy Shelby to be so desperate that he’d turn to fucking Tinder.“ Tommy scowls and takes a long drag on his cigarette
“And I never knew Alfie Solomons to be so soft that he’d have his girl as the fucking wallpaper on his phone.”
Alfie shakes his head, hours flying before he finished what could have been his third or sixth drink, his hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder as he stood.
“I’ll be off now then,” he says, before leaning in to speak directly in Tommy’s ear. “And by the way mate, I was thinking before I punched Sabini.”
Patting Tommy’s shoulder, he makes his way out of the pub turning back to look at his friend.
“Nice seeing you mate, give me a call next time you’re in London.”
What Tommy has failed to tell his friend was that if things went well, he saw himself spending a lot more time in the capital. He suspected his friend might have something to say about his admission that he would want to spend more time away from his hometown, and he had won the battle of who was more whipped. At least for now.
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artificialqueens · 3 years
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Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 8 (Lemon x love) - Mermelada
A/N: Hello everyone! Chapter 8 and still no luck for Lemon, who’d have thought?! Thank you again for all the lovely feedback! Trigger warning for bad hangovers in this one, Bisous!! <3
Lemon didn’t know if it was the pounding against her skull or the hot, swirling liquid in her stomach which woke her up first, but the two things combined made her wish she could fall back asleep and never wake up. The room she was in was completely illuminated by sunlight, and the spinning walls finally slowed down enough to help her piece together where she was. I’ve been here before, I know this pale green duvet cover: this is Rita’s. Which means this warm lump beside me is… not Rita. Shit! The long blonde hair splayed across the pillow next to her didn’t move as Lemon slowly slid out of the bed, trying - but failing - to keep her head as still as possible to avoid any more dizzy spells. She spotted her yellow dress from last night, folded neatly on top of the dressing table. Looking down at her chest, she realised she was now wearing an oversized purple t-shirt and a pair of yoga leggings which were far too long. Okay, so that probably means that nothing weird happened, but then where’s Rita? Looking back to the woman in the bed, who was still wrapped in her side of the duvet like a cocoon, she tried to remember her name. It was something really unusual, like a clown’s name. Bobo? Is that definitely the same girl? Thinking was not helping the pain in her head at all, so she decided to pad her way out of the bedroom and towards Rita’s living area, the dryness in her mouth now more apparent than ever. Shuffling through the small gap in the doorway, she finally found Rita, who jumped startledly from her sleeping position on the couch as the door squeaked on its hinges. Her short hair was almost sticking completely upright, and her face was shining with traces of glittery eyeshadow from the night before. Lemon would have laughed if she wasn’t so sure that she looked equally as dishevelled.
“Hi,” she managed to croak as the taller woman swung her legs around to allow her to sit up, patting the empty cushion for Lemon to sit. “Why did you sleep through here?”
Rita rubbed her eyes and emitted a groan as she too noticed the leftover glitter. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”
Lemon attempted to think back to what had happened last night, but she had so many black holes in her memory. She had been dancing on a table, she had kissed Tynomi and Scarlett at the same time, she had attempted the lift from Dirty Dancing with Rita’s friend- shit, Rita’s friend! Rita’s friend who Rita is in love with and who also loves Rita! Rita’s friend who I woke up beside! Does she think something happened with me and her?!
“Nothing happened between me and your friend!”
She was met with a tiny grin from the Québécoise, who then started giggling louder and louder to herself. Lemon didn’t quite understand why, but Rita’s laugh was contagious, and she was soon joining in. Especially after Rita responded.
“Of course not, you idiot, you kept pushing us together and screaming “just kiss her!” all night!”
Lemon brought her knees to her chest and buried her head between them; now that she’d been reminded, she could, in fact, recall doing that a few times, even in the living room where she was now sitting. “Fuck Rita, I am so sorry, I am mortified!”
Now it was Rita’s turn to redden. “I mean, we still did it…”
“What?!” The volume of Lemon’s yelp made herself wince, but she couldn’t help it. Could her being a drunk idiot have actually helped?
“We kissed every time you told us to, which was quite a lot actually.”
“WHAT?!”
“You were just having too much fun to notice!” Rita was chuckling again as she took her time to stand up and make her way into the open plan kitchen, rummaging through one of the drawers with her back to Lemon so she almost didn’t hear her. “And then we made out for a while after you fell asleep.”
Lemon was now staring at her with her mouth completely agape, “Rita! Oh my god! You’re welcome, I guess?” 
Rita came back towards Lemon and sat down again, handing her a glass of water and a round, white tablet. “Officially it’s for food poisoning, but it is the best cure for a hangover,” she uttered as she downed her own pill. “So… yeah. We’re going to have to talk later, but what is the saying? A drunk person does what a sober one wants to?”
“I don’t think that’s a real saying, you crazy cat!” spluttered Lemon, almost gagging as she swallowed her own tablet. “But I’m so glad things worked out! Drunk Lemon is a genius!”
“Well,” began Rita, her tone decidedly sterner than seconds before, “I confiscated your phone on the way home from the club because you were talking to Jimbo about Juice, and I didn’t trust either of you.”
Jimbo! That’s her name! I knew it was- wait, what? “Juice?! When was that?”
Rita simply sighed, tucking her feet underneath her and turning directly to Lemon. “Do you not remember when we were all in the bathroom?” Lemon shook her head, trying to dive back into her memories but finding nothing. “You made us take about 500 selfies in the mirror, then you wanted to show us a girl from Tinder, but you started crying because you saw you’d matched with your ex.” Her tone was kind and non-judgemental, but Lemon still wanted the ground to swallow her up whole. How could she have been so stupid? As if she could see the start of Lemon’s mental spiral, Rita rested a hand on her thigh and took her hand with the other. “Then you told us what happened in summer, and we all gave you a big hug, and then we were kicked out because the bar closed. I am so sorry, mon citron.” 
“Oh my god, I…” Lemon was in shock, how could she have no recollection of any of this? Blurred images started coming to her, having her head once more squeezed between Jimbo’s giant breasts, Tynomi’s gentle voice telling her she’d done the right thing, staring at her tear-stained face in the mirror as Rita took her hand and led her outside… “I am so, so, sorry, I can’t believe that.”
“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Rita shuffled closer, holding Lemon in a sideways hug. “It happens. Drunk brains are even worse than normal brains. I don’t think you said anything to her, but that’s something to deal with later, anyway.” They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sound was their gentle, rhythmic breathing as Rita caringly ran her fingers up and down Lemon’s arm. “Can I confess something, Lem?”
“Of course, Rita, anything.”
“I also had a little cry last night, after seeing Tynomi.”
That wasn’t what Lemon was expecting. “Oh no, why? Is there history there?” She tried to sound caring, because she truly wanted to be, but she couldn’t help also being a bit curious. Rita smiled back at her, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yeah, it’s a small world of GTA lesbians, I guess. We were something like friends with benefits when I first came to Toronto two years ago.” Lemon listened intriguely, nodding Rita along when she looked like she had more to say. “And for once, it wasn’t just me who got feelings. So we tried dating, but we just never saw each other enough: she was always out of the country, and I was working 20-hour shifts every day. We tried to be friends, but drifted apart. C’est la vie, I guess. So it was nice to see she is doing well, but I’ll always feel a little sad that it didn’t work out.”
Lemon squeezed her friend tightly, lightly kissing her cheek and snuggling her own head into the crook of Rita’s neck. “C’est la vie, indeed. I hope you still had a good night, though, despite everyone’s tears?”
Rita hummed contentedly as she swayed Lemon slightly, eliciting a laugh from the other girl. “I finally got to kiss the woman I’ve liked for ages; I danced with my friends for the first night in months; and I got to watch you do cartwheels down the entire street. So yes, I had fun!”
Lemon groaned as Rita cracked up again with laughter, the grazes on her hands finally making sense. As she broke apart from Rita to take a sip of water, a very grumpy looking Jimbo plodded into the room, her hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing nothing but a t-shirt with a hotdog logo on the front and a very lacy, very revealing red thong.
“Can you two please stop having fun, some of us are trying to die in peace.”
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spidercakes · 4 years
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It continues!
Edit: my stupid ass forgot the tag list posting so here it is (though some of you still found it lmao): @prettieststarker @readysetstarker @lover-starker @starkerprince @starker-flame @i-am-irondaddy @blush-reincarnated @c6h12o6-work @von–gelmini @caseysroses @darkobsidianquill​
Part One | Part Two
Its been a long time since Tony has done this but sometimes things just feel a little more out of control and this is an easy way to get some of that back ethically. Plus he enjoys it, maybe more than he should. Its not like he’s never considered why he likes the control so much, if that means he’s controlling, and then by extension just like Howard but he’s long ago come to the conclusion that that’s not it. He doesn’t want to control someone per se, what he wants is control over a situation. The fact that other people are involved it more a symptom of how he chose to go about gaining that level of control. And he’s always taken care to not take that away from whoever he’s with because, as Pepper pointed out, he’s not much like Howard if you look further than skin deep.
Still, he hadn’t initially planned to just throw himself back into one of these things, mostly he was catching up with Sam and feeling things out but then he saw Peter. Sam’s not stupid, he knows his type, so he said he’d work something out. And Peter, fuck he’s perfect. A little inexperienced for his taste, and a little on the young side, but Tony is willing to look past that on account of he knows he’s not going to get anything better. He’d done this enough times to be able to pick up on small signs of compatibility and Peter might be inexperienced, but Tony happens to know he’s got more of a submissive side than he knows. Makes sense, for his age, that he hasn’t figured that out quite yet. At his age he’s probably still experimenting with things.
Normally experience is something he prefers but in this case he made an exception. The way Peter responded proved him right enough that he’s not entirely worried about it beyond Peter finding his voice. But the way he’d responded to Tony, handing over his other wrist without him having to ask, lifting his head a little so Tony could put the blindfold on, the way his uncomfortable squirming immediately stopped when Tony had settled a hand on his knee. Yeah, Tony knows Peter will be more than compatible with what he’s looking for.
As it is he’s disappointed that he’s going to have to wait until later to see Peter again but they both have things to do. Maybe this is one of those situations where patience pays off. Tony doubts it on account of he’d be just as excited if not more if Peter showed up now, but he’ll take what he can get. There’s also the slight disappointment of stretching things out a bit, giving Peter time to adjust to something new rather than jumping right into it but its necessary. Tony wants to give him time to gain a level of trust in him before he starts taking away his senses and leaving him to rely more on Tony than not. If he were more experienced it wouldn’t be much of a problem, but he’s not so Tony needs to start fresh.
Not ideal, considering his usual impatience, but he knows that it’ll be well worth it to wait for Peter to catch up.
*
 Peter bites his lip, unsure what to expect aside from what Tony told him in the beginning. He does have to admit that having his own key is pretty cool, mostly because Tony’s penthouse is nice as hell. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he hisses at Liz over the phone.
She sighs, “didn’t you say he like… gave you an outline of what to expect?” she asks.
He rolls his eyes, “if I gave you an outline of child birth do you think it’d prepare you?” he asks.
Liz snorts, “Peter, that’s such a guy thing to say. This is in no way comparable to child birth. But your point is taken. We should throw a party there, seems like a swanky place,” she says like Peter doesn’t desperately need this job.
“Liz, I have hospital bills to pay,” he points out.
“I’m kidding Peter, mostly. But if he’s a dick we can totally trash the place, you know MJ would do it in a heartbeat.” True, and Peter loves her for it but Tony has been more than polite so far and he’s talked to some of the other people Sam employs. Turns out he’s a real stickler for not being a douchebag and he takes his employee concerns very seriously so he’s gained a bit of trust that this won’t turn into a massive shit show.
“I actually think he’s pretty nice,” Peter says, looking over the directions to the room Tony told him his stuff was in. For an apartment this place is a fucking maze.
“Yeah, he hires prostitutes, how nice can he be?” Liz says, distain in her voice.
Peter frowns, “you know I’m the prostitute, right?”
“Obviously, Peter.”
“Yeah, well acting like only losers and assholes pick up prostitutes doesn’t exactly make the job less stigmatizing. Maybe he doesn’t have time for a relationship, or doesn’t want one, you don’t know.” He does know that Tony doesn’t want a relationship with him, which is fine because he doesn’t want one with Tony either. Aside from you know, a good relationship with the guy who is also his boss, technically. God, this is messy.
The good news is that he finds the room finally and breathes out a sigh of relief as he steps inside and goes on the hunt for his outfit. Thankfully Tony has laid it out on the bed for him so he doesn’t need to go far.
“Okay, but do like… normal guys go to prostitutes?” she asks and Peter frowns.
“Yeah, probably. Why is it that sex for money somehow makes the sex dirtier or whatever? Its not like being in a relationship is free and you’re totally financially independent of them unless you make good money. Even platonic relationships don’t escape that, remember the time we all talked Ned out of moving across the country to live with his girlfriend because we’ve be fucked for rent? Anyway, I just think that paying someone to have sex with you is hardly demeaning or whatever.”
He picks up the white teddy and frowns at it for a moment, unsure how that’ll look on him. The pink frilly booty shorts are cute, though, even if they’re not something he’d pick out for himself. He shrugs and tosses Liz on the bed so he can change.
“Yeah but like. Can guys who go to prostitutes even get relationships?” Liz asks and Peter snorts.
“The sheer amount of politicians that go to prostitutes say yeah, they get into relationships just fine. Like, what is the correlation people draw between prostitution and not being able to get sex for free? Is it really less degrading to pick someone up at a bar when you’ve only known them for a half an hour? At least I get paid for my trouble now, my last Tinder date was shit in bed and I paid for dinner.” That was like, forever ago but still. He’d consider what he’s doing now considerably less degrading than that. Tony buys nice lingerie and, to Peter’s surprise, it actually looks pretty nice on him.
He fully expects Liz to have some kind of response for that but she remains silent for a moment. “I guess you make a point there. Did you figure out where you were supposed to go?” she asks.
“Yeah. Also, turns out I look cute lingerie,” he says.
The squeal of surprise is unexpected but more pleasant than their last discussion so he’ll take it. “Send me a picture!” she says and he frowns. “In like. A not sexual way,” she clarifies.
“Is that like… normal for girls? Do you guys just send each other pictures of yourselves in lingerie?” Because that seems like a dream world to him, throw some guys in there and he’s in bisexual heaven.
“Sometimes. Guys don’t do that?” she asks.
Peter squints as he opens the camera app. “Liz, in what world do guys where lingerie?” he asks.
“This one if you’re to be believed,” she points out.
Right, good point. “You know what I mean. No, guys don’t just send each other random pictures in sexy clothing. I sent the picture and if you make fun of me I’ll move and screw you all for rent,” he tells her.
She remains silent for a moment before she makes a small, approving noise. “That actually does look good on you,” she says. “What the fuck.”
“What the fuck what?” he asks, checking himself out in the mirror. He… didn’t expect to actually like this but he doesn’t mind.
“That style of lingerie looks like total shit on me and I’m mad it looks good on you,” she says. Peter grins because jealousy is a good emotion to have in this case. And if Liz thinks he looks good Tony definitely will.
“Die mad about it,” he tells Liz, who snorts and starts laughing.
“Don’t let the lace give you too much confidence,” she tells him despite the fact that he’s not wearing any lace. Its more of a sheer gossamer material that shines a little and compliments his skin nicely. He thought the white on his pale as shit skin would make him look like a fucking ghost but instead he looks etherial. Huh, so maybe this is why women like lingerie so much.
He chats back and forth with Liz for a few more minutes but she has to do homework and frankly so does he so they hang up to go do that. And Peter means to do homework, really, but the closet beckons and he has to hang up the clothes he changed out of anyway so he goes over to check it out.
His opinions on Tony’s taste mostly improve minus the yellow… thing that’s probably the most hideous shade of yellow Peter has ever seen. But the rest? Its clear that Tony has a thing for red and black, which makes his current outfit kind of a strange choice and that makes him curious but he does like most of the rest of the stuff in the closet. There’s a few things that are… well, strappy enough that he’s confused how to put them on, and a couple things that don’t look that great, but otherwise Tony clearly has talent in aesthetics.
“I didn’t think you’d take to the lingerie,” someone says and Peter lets out an accidental scream and tosses the garment thats in his hand. He turns to find Tony in the doorway looking amused.
“Oh my god, give a guy a warning!” he says, hand pressed to his heart.
Tony doesn’t look any less amused, eyes bright as he looks Peter over. “That looks nice on you,” he says, gesturing vaguely at him.
Peter looks down at himself and grins, “it does, doesn’t it? I was worried I’d come out looking like fucking Casper but thankfully that was not the case,” he says.
Tony snorts and starts laughing, “god, its been forever since someone has referenced that around me. I’m kind of surprised you even know what Casper is,” he says.
Peter doesn’t mean to say it but it slips out anyway. “Okay, boomer,” he says out of pure instinct and thankfully Tony bursts out laughing.
“One, I’m not that old. Two, you always this sassy or is this new?”
“Um. Depends, usually its a comfort thing. Sorry I called you a boomer,” he says.
“Its fine. The youths know how to make a good meme, I’ll give you guys that,” Tony says, smiling still.
“Well, the economy is shit so all we’ve got is depression humor and memes so we gotta make it good,” he says, considering his choices for a half a second before figuring fuck it. He could stay here all day or he could figure out what the rest of the night will be like and go over to Tony, see how he reacts. As it turns out he mostly looks like he wants to devour Peter but he keeps his hands to himself even if his thoughts are pretty obvious on his face. Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck, a silent way of giving him permission to touch him, and leans into him. “So we’re watching a movie, right? What am I supposed to expect?”
Tony looks pretty ready to abandon the movie idea but he doesn’t. “Your choice,” he says and Peter grins.
“Star Wars?” he asks excitedly.
“Baby, which Star Wars movie? And if you list any of the prequels I’ll fire you,” he jokes.
Peter wrinkles his nose, “A New Hope, obviously. Ew, why would I subject us to Jar Jar?”
Tony snickers, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “Thank god. I met someone who liked Jar Jar Binks once and I’ve never been the same.”
*
He’s been staring at the skirt for like fifteen minutes and no one is home. Everyone else has classes or work in MJ’s case so really, there’s no harm if he steals Liz’s skirt from the floor of her room. No one will ever know and he’s never even had thoughts like that before and- well, okay, that’s not exactly true. He’s always liked the aesthetic of skirts, its just that he never really considered them on him before. But the way Tony reacted when he saw Peter in that lingerie, the way he kept looking at him all night…
He didn’t expect to like that feeling so much and skirts are pretty, he’s always liked them…
Fuck it, if he hates it he can put it back and its not like Liz would ever know so he sneaks in, snatches it from the ground, and sneaks back out. They’re probably the same size so this should be fine. Once in his room and slips it on and sure enough, it fits perfectly though it sits different on him than Liz. Probably on account of she has hips and he doesn’t, not really. But it does sit nicely over his butt so there’s that.
He grins, snatching his phone out of his abandoned pant pockets and moving his mirror in front of his bed so he can try and take a decent picture. It takes some finagling and a little work but he finally manages to get a good angle and-
“Oh shit,” he says, desperately snapping pictures as his free hand slips and he falls headfirst off the bed. He sighs, picking himself back up and smoothing out Liz’s skirt before examining the pictures.
He smiles, saving the good ones and deleting the rest before he sends them off to Tony. His favorite is the one with his back arched, the skirt sitting just too high to be appropriate, exposing a little cheek underneath. If he ignores his messy bed in the background its pretty much the perfect picture given the proportions of it. Tony’s response is pretty much immediate.
Wear that tomorrow.
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writethehousedown · 4 years
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And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Three (Multi) - Zyan
a/n: hello! welcome to chapter four of zyan tries her best to juggle all of the characters. i think we’re pretty much done as far as introductions go? so here’s where things start to get interesting. hope you enjoy! my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca - and frey is an angel for beta-ing.
“Is that a hickey?” Jan asks during their improvised breakfast.
It’s still early, so there aren’t many people at the beach just yet. The Sun is up and shining bright, and Gigi is so sleep deprived she forgot about the purple spot in the crook of her neck.
Gigi shakes off the tiredness and blinks repeatedly, her cheeks getting as red as a tomato when she notices all of her friends are staring at her. She decides that there’s no point in lying and sets down her plastic cup with steaming hot coffee Jackie somehow managed to prepare.
“I had sex with someone last night,” she simply says with a shrug. The screeches from her friends hurt her ears, but she had seen them coming.
“What? When did your hoe ass get a hook up?” Brita exclaims, “Did you download fucking Tinder again, sneaked out when we were all asleep, and came back?” Gigi laughs at Brita’s incredulous tone, though she’s nervous and her cheeks are still red.
“Ew, no, you know I don’t do dating apps. That’s how my ex happened,” Gigi says, matter-of-factly, “You see, Nicky was hoarding the tent with her inflatable mattress—”
“Hey! I did ask you if you wanted to sleep with me!” Nicky complains, folding her arms, though a laugh fights to escape her mouth.
“Yeah, and I told you my name’s not Jackie,” Gigi deadpans, and both Nicky and Jackie shut their mouths. She smiles cheekily and goes on. “Anyway, as I was saying; I left the tent, walked along the beach, found this girl all alone, talked a bit, and I guess it just happened.”
She purposely leaves out that the girl was no one other than Crystal, and they entered the sea, floating near the shore until, much like Gigi predicted it, she fell off the board and Crystal had to drag her back to the shore. The fabric of her tank top stuck to her skin, making her shiver like crazy, and Crystal tried to help her warm up, she really did — but one thing led to another, and before Gigi knew it, Crystal was sucking on her neck as her hands pinned her down.
The girls holler, not believing what they’re hearing. All of them say some sort of variation of there’s no way your game is that good, and Gigi just lets them talk as she sips on her coffee.
Her phone rings in her bag so she aims for it, juggling to unlock it. She bites back a smile when she sees the notification from Instagram.
@crystalandmeth has started following you.
Gigi wants to smack Crystal for having such a handle. No wonder she couldn’t find her when she searched her up after that night at the bar.
*
Scarlet vaguely scans the pool; it’s just opened and it’s still fairly early, but there are girls sunbathing, taking pictures, and some children playing by the edge of the tiny pool, splashing each other. She smiles at that. Sometimes she even likes the kids - when they’re not pushing each other into the big pool and Scarlet has to prevent a child from drowning, that is.
The hotel is medium sized, but since it’s the summer, there’s not a room that’s not booked. She knows. Her mothers have owned it for the last twenty years. She grew up running around the halls and with the noise of the tourists settling in their rooms, dragging their suitcases with big smiles plastered across their faces.
Though her mothers have insisted that she didn’t have to work at the hotel during the summer if she didn’t want to, Scarlet had decided to fill the position of lifeguard for the morning shift until they find someone else. It’s not as if she minds, anyway; she has nothing better to do, since all of her friends traveled outside the country for their vacations, leaving her stuck in the island. That’s the downside of being friends with stuck up rich kids, she supposes.
She tells a few kids to stop running, brings back a volleyball that ended up landing on the deep side of the pool, and that’s about it, for the most part. The morning shift is very laid back; the pool usually gets crowded during the afternoon, but that’s Adore and Courtney’s problem.
Lunch time rolls around before she notices it, and she closes the pool with a relieved sigh, immediately going to the cafeteria.
Scarlet picks a frozen burrito and asks one of the ladies working at the cafeteria if they can pretty please heat it up with the nice microwave they have in the kitchen. Belinda rolls her eyes with a playful smile and squeezes Scarlet’s cheek before complying with her wishes.
“Damn, I didn’t know we could ask to use the good microwave,” a voice pipes up from her side. Scarlet giggles and turns around to look at whoever said that.
She’s met with the sight of a gorgeous woman with pink wavy hair. Scarlet licks her lips before answering.
“Oh, no, that’s uh, that’s staff privilege.” She shrugs, and the woman clicks her tongue, visibly disappointed. Scarlet looks at her plate and cocks an amused brow when she sees the bland vegetarian sandwich. “I don’t think you’ll need the microwave now, though,” she points out, nudging at her plate, and the woman stifles a laugh.
“Ah, that, yeah. This is all my stomach can handle right now — one of my friends got a little too carried away doing the drinks last night,” she comments, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Scarlet chuckles, she knows the feeling.
“Hangover food? Been there. I’m a little bolder though, I prefer French fries with a lot of ketchup,” she replies, just when Belinda hands her back her burrito. Scarlet blows a kiss her way and turns her attention back to the woman, slightly biting her lip before speaking. “D’you wanna sit together? I mean, unless you’re waiting for your friends.”
“No, it’s fine, I’m not waiting for them, I’d be stuck here for hours if I was,” she dismisses it with a wave of her hand and laughs. Scarlet thinks she has a pretty laugh. “I’m Yvie.”
“I’m Scarlet,” she introduces herself with a shiny smile.
*
Crystal sighs as she juggles her phone, struggling to put it on speaker as she currently is trying to make a decent lunch — never mind the fact it’s four p.m. and she skipped breakfast to sleep in.
She finally manages to put it on speaker and Vanessa’s voice fills the room, her tone far too annoyed and one Crystal’s grown to know all too well.
“Can you believe it, Crys? She’s but a child, and the bitch is almost thirty! I’m disgusted,” Vanessa rants, and Crystal almost snaps her optic nerve with the way she rolls her eyes.
“Vanj, hold the fuck up. Plastique is twenty two, in case you didn’t know, and Brooke is still twenty seven; the gap isn’t that big,” Crystal says. “’Sides, you two broke up last year, it’s obvious that she has moved on. So why don’t you focus on your hot bodybuilder girlfriend before I steal her off you.” She smiles cheekily when Vanessa gasps offended on the other side of the line.
“Hey! Plastic, Plastique, or whatever her name is, looks like a fucking teenager. How was I supposed to know?” She defends herself; Crystal can almost see her folding her arms with a childish pout. “Kameron is doing some gigs in California, photographing for an ice skating tour or some shit. She’s busy, but I did invite her for the competition.”
“Ajá.” Crystal is more focused in her lunch, making sure to cut the pepper as thin as possible. She knows it would’ve been easier to just order takeout, buy a soda from the drugstore around the corner, and settle in the couch and watch some garbage TV, but sometimes she misses the taste of a home cooked meal.
Vanessa goes on, talking her ear off about Kameron and how happy she is with her. She rolls her eyes; for someone in a happy relationship she sure talks a lot about her ex.
“…But that’s enough ‘bout me. What happened with you last night? Jaida came back way before you, bitch, and you reeked of sex. Like, you could barely walk straight, and you weren’t that shit faced. Spill, Glass,” Vanessa changes the topic, and Crystal nearly cuts her finger with the knife.
Her cheeks heat up when she remembers what happened at the beach with Gigi. Crystal doesn’t know if telling her to take off her soaked clothes on a whim had been a good or a bad idea, but she doesn’t regret anything — even if she still has sand in her scalp.
She clears her throat before speaking, glad that Vanessa can’t see her awfully red cheeks.
“Well, uh, remember Smoothie Girl?” she begins, throwing the pepper in the cooking pot. Vanessa musters an affirmative response. Crystal breathes in deeply. “So, like, Jaida and I finish our thing, and she tells me we should stop sleeping around, and I got excited, thinking she wanted to go on a date or something like that. But no, she actually meant that in a literal way, and naturally, I had already embarrassed myself,” Crystal rants with a groan. Vanessa just listens, “So, she left and I just. Stared at the water I guess. Then Smoothie Girl appeared out of nowhere, shit happened, one thing led to another, and suddenly I was pinning her to the ground.”
There’s silence on Vanessa’s end for what seems like an eternity, and Crystal proceeds to cut the chicken in tiny cubes, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her. She expected Vanessa to screech so loud she’d end up deaf.
“So, what you’re tryin’ to tell me is that your cheesy ass got ditched, and instead of moping around for a week, you went and slept with someone else right after?” She inquires slowly, as if she’s talking to an infant. Crystal rolls her eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit, Glass,” Vanessa declares calmly, “There’s no way in hell. You’re bullshitting me. You’ve been chasing Jaida Eleanor Hall’s ass for two years now—”
“Hey! That’s not true. It’s been a year and a half,” Crystal defends herself.
“—a year and a half, and you didn’t feel the least bit heartbroken? Really?”
Crystal shrugs, but soon realizes that’s stupid; Vanessa can’t see her.
“Vanj, you act as if I was in love with Jaida, to begin with,” she points out, perching herself against the countertop for a moment. “The girl was hot, I won’t deny it, and the sex was great — but, like, I told you I didn’t think we’d ever be something serious. I don’t hold any grudges against her.” And it’s true. Crystal’s disappointment at the moment had been magnified by the fact she made a fool of herself by misunderstanding what Jaida meant, and the alcohol usually made her a more sensitive person, if that was even possible.
Vanessa stays silent for a moment yet again, until she hears a loud sigh and some rumbling. Crystal frowns as she throws the chicken to the cooking pot, turning up the flames.
“Alright, I believe you, Glass. Now tell me, you and Smoothie Girl…?” She leaves the sentence hanging, prompting Crystal to complete it.
She laughs shortly, before checking her phone and seeing a notification from Instagram. She grins cheekily, wondering if Gigi had waited so long to follow her on purpose.
*
Jaida takes a spoonful of ice cream, trying not to choke with laughter at Monique’s re-telling of the previous night. She’d been gone for a short while, though apparently that didn’t prevent shit from going down.
“You should’ve seen Vanessa’s face when Brooke left with Plastique, oh my God, it was priceless,” Monique tells her, as enthusiastic as ever. Her ice cream melts more and more with every second that passes, but she can’t bring herself to care. Except when Monét tries to steal some of it, apparently. “Girl, had I known the bitch was that bold, I wouldn’t have invited her. I’d like her to still be alive by the end of the week.”
“Hey now, it’s not her fault Vanessa isn’t over Brooke,” Monét cuts in, “Plastique hardly knew any of y’all. She may not even know Brooke is Vanessa’s ex.”
Jaida hums in agreement, her mouth still full of ice cream. The three of them are staying at the same hotel, and they’re lucky enough there’s a good ice cream shop around the corner, so they decided to take the day off and just hang out. Not that the hangover allowed them to do anything else in the first place.
“Also, Vanessa’s a grown woman; I don’t think she goes around pitching fights because her ex’s over her, she’s better than that,” Jaida adds, wiping the rests of ice cream off her face.
Monét and Monique agree with her, and the conversation drifts to various topics, though Jaida notices they’re making an effort not to bring Crystal up. She appreciates it, because right now that’s a can of worms she rather not open.
It’s not that she regrets being with her, it’s more like she hates herself for dragging their thing for so long, and by the way Crystal bit her tongue and nodded wordlessly when she told her she rather stop this, she can tell she hurt her — at least to some degree, because the rest of the night she’d acted as if nothing happened and everything was cool. Jaida doesn’t know if it was faked or not.
Monét and Monique start to argue about something, probably about how they’re not going to be easy on each other just because they’re girlfriends now; they go way too fast for her to catch up, especially since she’s still eating her frost mint ice cream and can’t be bothered about their relationship right now — she hears about it on the daily, anyway.
Jaida brings the spoon to her lips when she looks past Monique’s shoulder, looking at the entrance of shop, and she freezes for a moment. She blinks repeatedly, until she knows for real this is not her eyes deceiving her; the same woman as last night is seating near the entrance with someone else, chatting and laughing and looking even prettier in the daylight.
She squints, trying to remember her name; Jen, was it? She’s pretty sure she heard her friend say it, but she can’t remember that well.  
Jaida pulls her gaze away when she realizes she’s staring, and tries to focus on whatever Monét and Monique are talking about. But soon she feels someone looking at her, and she steals a glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye; she finds that she’s staring back at her, but she quickly withdraws her gaze.
Jaida smiles against the spoon. She doesn’t question how is it possible she ran into her again, especially considering the island is big and the chances of seeing her again were slim. Perhaps it’s a coincidence.
“I’m telling you, ‘Nét, this bitch had an edgy phase!” Monique exclaims, tugging at Jaida’s arm, causing her to accidentally throw a good chunk of ice cream on her blouse. Monique stays still for a moment as Jaida fumbles with the tissue paper. “I’m sorry, girl,” she says, with her tone so high pitched and full of regret, Jaida finds it hard to get mad at her.
She sighs dramatically, leaving the tissues aside and standing up. “Don’t worry, sis, it’s no big deal. I can wash this, anyway.” She shrugs. “Though I’m expecting you to buy me a pina colada next time we hit the bar,” she teasingly says before leaving to the bathroom.
She can hear Monét’s laugh and the smack Monique gives her on the arm, pitching the blame for Jaida’s ruined blouse on her. Sometimes Jaida swears neither one of them knows the volume of their own voices.
She wets a tissue and gets the ice cream off her skin before it gets sticky. The bathroom is tinier than she expected, but at least there’s no one else.
Or so she thought.
“Sweet baby Jesus, Nicole, how did you manage to burn the eggs?” a voice speaks from one of the stalls, and Jaida jumps a little.
A woman comes out from one the three stalls, holding her phone in the crook of her neck as she washes her hands. Jaida stiffs a little when she notices it’s the girl from the beach. Jen (or Jan), apparently, remembers her too, because she stops for a moment when she sees her, biting her lower lip before speaking again.
“Nicks, just, don’t touch anything else from the kitchen. Jackie and I will come back in a moment — please don’t listen neither Gigi nor Brita, they’re as bad cooks as you, 'kay?” She hangs up and sighs loudly, drying her hands before putting the phone back in the pocket of her shorts.
“That’s quite an interesting daycare you got there,” Jaida comments lightheartedly, throwing the tissues to the trash. The woman chuckles, turning to see her.
“Keeping toddlers in their twenties alive is my passion,” she deadpans, playing with the hem of her shirt. Jaida laughs shortly. “I’ve heard they’re easier to take care of once they’re thirty,” she comments with a cheeky smile, making Jaida laugh again.
“I wouldn’t have my hopes up if I were you,” Jaida replies, checking herself in the mirror and making sure she’s wiped off all the ice cream
She sucks in a quick breath, looking back at the woman, who’s perched against the sink, texting someone.
“Hey,” she says, catching her attention. “This probably sounds crazy, but is there any chance you were at O'Ahu beach last night, looking for a ball, maybe?” Jaida wonders, and almost right away she sees Jen (or Jan) cheeks lit up.
“Oh, Jesus, I was hoping you wouldn’t remember me. That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands and Jaida laughs softly, coming some steps closer.
“Girl, it’s fine, for real,” she assures her, and Jen (or Jan) slowly uncovers her face. The rosy tone in her cheeks makes her look cute. She bites her lower lip before continuing. “I did mean it when I said I can’t be mad at a pretty girl.”
Jen (or Jan) smiles sheepishly and laugh, tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear.
“Well, I meant it too when I said you’re not so bad yourself. I didn’t mean to finger gun you, though.”
Jaida laughs, and for a moment she forgets she has to go back to Monét and Monique. They strike up a conversation, and Jaida learns that her name is Jan and not Jen, and that she blushes a deep shade of red whenever she compliments her in any way. Jaida thinks she’s the cutest girl she’s ever met.
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tommyhardyx · 5 years
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Mr Solomons - Part 7
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Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Six months with Alfie and life couldn’t be better. Alfie goes on a trip and sees an old friend, you get to know Hannah a bit more. Warnings: swearing, drinking A/N: Finally finished this chapter, sorry it took a while! Big thanks to @acciostilinski for helping me finish once scene in particular and as always just being an all round great friend! Hope you enjoy, please leave a comment to let me know what you thought.
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Six months with Alfie and everything in your life feels calm, settled.
Your time is split between your own flat and Alfie’s, time spent with him equally exciting and comfortable as you find him slotting into your life perfectly. Everything feels brighter with Alfie around, someone to share the good and bad with. He makes you feel safe and brings a newfound sense of balance to your life.
Though with the amount of time you’ve spent with Alfie, integrating into his life and in with those who are close to him you make sure you still spend time at home with Nancy, careful not to begin to neglect her or your other friends now you’re in a relationship.
“Fucking Birmingham,” Alfie grumbles. “Why do I have to go to fucking Birmingham?” 
The two of you sit in a coffee shop near the distillery, two laptops squeezed onto the small table between you. You decided to work outside the office today, and Alfie was happy to meet you here to keep you company while you work on your latest article, being his own boss coming in handy as he sits with you for hours at a coffee shop instead of in his office.
“What is it?” 
Alfie turns his laptop to face you, the page open on an email invitation that you quickly scan the details of. An invitation to an event for the owners of a select group of alcohol distilleries in the country from the CEO of a bar chain based in Birmingham.
“Alfie! This is good! Why are you complaining?” 
“Because it’s in Birmingham, I hate Birmingham,” he mutters, turning the laptop back to him, as he rubs a hand through his beard.
“Please tell me you’re not going to turn it down because you hate Birmingham, are you?” 
“Nah, I’ve got a mate who was invited too. Haven’t seen him in a while so I’ll catch up with him while I’m there. Meeting’s in the late afternoon so I might as well stay the night,” he decides, though he looks even more disappointed by the idea of spending the night in a city he hates.
“What about Cyril? Who’ll look after him?” 
“Normally I’d ask Ollie or Hannah,” he says, a hopefully hint to his voice as he looks at you over his laptop.
“But?” 
“But I thought I’d ask you this time. You can spend the night at my place, I’ll get up early and drive back in the morning,” he suggests. 
You snort at the idea, biting your lip to hold back the laugh as Alfie frowns at you. 
“What?”
“You get up early? I’d like to see that happen,” you tell him as Alfie puffs up to defend himself.
“I get up early all the time!”
“Maybe so but you don’t fucking shut up about it,” you point out, Alfie scowling at the insinuation.
You grin, reaching out to pinch his cheek and laughing when he playfully slaps your hand away.
“Aw it’s okay Alfie, you know I like my big grump,” you tease, earning a roll of his eyes.
He grumbles something under his breath as he lifts his coffee mug to his lips, his complaint cut off as he takes a sip, his free hand reaching out across the table to take a hold of your own.
“So, will you look after Cyril or not?” he asks.
“Of course I will, if it means I get to sleep in your bed without having to deal with you hogging the blankets then I’m in,” you say with a smug grin that makes him lean over and kiss you.
Alfie shakes his head, the faint fond smile on his lips telling you he’s as enamoured by your little quirks as you are by his.
                                                   ---------------------
Following the meeting, Alfie drove all the way to Birmingham for, Alfie makes his way into the pub Tommy had told him to meet him in spotting his old friend sitting at the bar already a drink in hand.
“Thomas,” Alfie says in greeting as he sinks into the stool next to Tommy, hand reaching out to shake the other man’s hand.
“Alfie, it’s been a while,” he says, sipping his whiskey. 
“Yeah well you don’t get to London as much these days,” Alfie says.
He catches the bartender's attention, a woman who eyes up Tommy when she comes over to take his order her eyes only leaving his friend to make Alfie’s drink.
“You could always come here,” Tommy suggests, causing Alfie to snort.
“Mate, the only reason I’m in this shit city is cause of that fucking meeting, couldn’t get me here any other way,” he comments, Tommy giving him a hint of a smile behind his glass.
Alfie’s phone buzzes and he glances quickly at the screen before clearing the notification, shoving the phone back in his pocket but not before Tommy gets a glance at the photo of Alfie and y/n on his lock screen. Tommy doesn’t say a word, his eyebrows going up as he holds back a smile. 
“So, how’s the family then?” Alfie asks.
“Arthur got married,” Tommy says, and Alfie smirks.
“And I wasn’t invited? What’s she like?”
“She’s good for Arthur,” is all Tommy says, the comments he could make about his brother’s new wife unsavoury at best.
It’s then that Alfie’s phone buzzes once again, and with a second glance at his lock screen Tommy can’t keep his comments to himself any longer.
“Who’s that then aye?” Tommy says, inclining his head towards Alfie’s phone. “Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?” 
“Yeah mate, I have. She’s fucking brilliant she is,” Alfie says, rolling his eyes at the smirk that crosses his friend’s lips. 
“You’re going soft Solomons.” 
“Fuck off,” Alfie says, but he can’t keep the grin off his face at the mere mention of y/n. “She wrote that piece on me for The City Scoop.”
“I wondered why that interview was so flattering, fucked your interviewer did you?”
“Took her out to dinner first mate,” he says with a grin, making Tommy shake his head. “I’m telling you, it’s fucking nice having someone around who wil-“
“Suck your cock?”
“She is good at that mate. Nah I’m telling you, it’s nice having a woman around to keep me company,” he says, and Tommy rolls his eyes.
“Fuck, you have gone soft,” Tommy mutters, shaking his head.
“Maybe so. It ain’t that bad though. Maybe it’s time you find yourself a girl, might be good for you.”
Tommy rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink to avoid replying which only causes Alfie’s grin to spread wider his face lighting up.  
“Or do you already have a girl Thomas?”
“I’ve been talking with a woman yes,” he offers, though doesn’t elaborate as he orders another drink.
“Talking aye? And where did you meet her?”
“Tinder,” Tommy mutters, fingers itching to reach into his pocket for a cigarette the no-smoking laws the only thing stopping him.
Alfie scoffs, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his beard while Tommy glares at him.
“What?”
“Fucking tinder? Can’t meet a girl the old-fashioned way, aye?”
Tommy clenches his jaw at the insinuation, choosing not to rise to the comment as his hand reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against his cigarette case.
“Like having a magazine send a journalist to your work? That old way you mean?” He runs the cigarette along his bottom lip and glares at the bartender who moves to tell him that he can’t smoke indoors, piercing eyes daring anyone to test him. 
Tommy’s phone lights up and he immediately turns it face down, “besides, easier innit? Haven’t got time to be spending on women in bars or journalists I need to write a good profile about me because I punched someone without thinking.” 
The smirk on Tommy's face tells Alfie that he’s joking, but the bearded man takes a sip of his beer without a hint of amusement washing over his features. 
“Never knew Tommy Shelby to be so desperate that he’d turn to fucking Tinder.“ Tommy scowls and takes a long drag on his cigarette
“And I never knew Alfie Solomons to be so soft that he’d have his girl as the fucking wallpaper on his phone.” 
Alfie shakes his head, finishing his drink before standing his hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder. 
“I’ll be off now then,” he says, before leaning in to speak directly in Tommy’s ear. “And by the way mate, I was thinking before I punched Sabini.” 
Patting Tommy’s shoulder, he makes his way out of the pub turning back to look at his friend. 
“Nice seeing you mate, give me a call next time you’re in London.” 
                                                  ---------------------
When a knock sounds on the front door, Cyril is the first to react, his loud bark making you jump as he jumps up off the couch to rush at the door.
“Oh, calm down, it’s no stranger,” you mutter as you close your laptop, getting up to follow the dog to the door.
Cyril jumps up when you open the door, tail wagging madly as Hannah comes into view, a bag of takeout in one hand and a grin on her face even when Cyril jumps up on her.
“Cyril! Hello buddy, did you miss me?” she asks, patting his head as she eases the large dog back to his feet. “Hey y/n!”
Hannah pulls you in for a hug the second she’s able to, her thin arms surprisingly strong as she holds you in against her, her warm hug reminding you of Alfie’s.
“Hey Hannah, thanks for coming,” you tell her as you pull away.
Over the past six months you’ve seen plenty of Hannah, dinners with her, Alfie and Ollie, times when Hannah has come over to, in her own words, annoy her brother,  and even a few times she has dropped by the distillery at the same time you happened to be there, but in all that time you never really found yourself alone with her very much. You’d wanted a chance to spend time with her without Alfie or Ollie around for quite a while, and so a night with Alfie’s place all to yourself seems like the perfect time for it.
“Any chance to come hang out with Cyril without Alfie being around to growl at me, I’ll take it,” she jokes, taking the food to the table and fishing out a treat she’d bought for Cyril. “But seriously, I’m glad you called, I wanted a chance to spend some time with you without Alf around.”
“Yeah me too, figured it would be a good chance while he’s in Birmingham,” you make your way into the kitchen. “Drink?”
“Surely, he’s got a bottle of his rum around here somewhere, I actually really like it, a fact he will never let me forget,” she says, joining you in the kitchen to look through his cupboards. “Did you tell him you were inviting me over?”
“It was sort of a spur of the moment idea, he said he might facetime me tonight, so he can find out you’re here then,” you say with a shrug.
As Hannah pulls out a bottle of Alfie’s rum and pours the both of you a drink you move the takeout to the coffee table, filling Cyril’s food bowl before you do so to avoid him trying to steal your food before sinking into the armchair, leaving the couch open for Hannah to sink into as she places the two drinks on the coffee table along with the food.
“So, you’re a journalist huh? You like your job?” she asks, pulling her legs underneath her as she digs into her food.
“I love it! I enjoy profile pieces the most, getting the chance to meet people I’d otherwise never meet and get to know them is fun and it led me to Alfie so that’s a bonus,” you explain, unable to help the smile that grows on your face at the mention of him.
Hannah smirks around her food, having seen the same goofy grin on her brother’s face at the mere mention of you. 
“I’ve never seen Alfie this happy with a girl before. Not that he dates all that much, he mostly keeps to himself, especially since his last girlfriend, but you make him happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”
A warm feeling of satisfaction spreads through you at the other woman’s words, a wide smile spreading across your face though you can’t help the hint of curiosity at the mention of an ex-girlfriend.
“He’s still a fucking grump most of the time,” she adds, making you laugh. “But he’s definitely happier with you around.”
“Don’t have to tell me how grumpy he is, I’m the one who has to deal with him in the mornings,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. “But he makes me happy, I’m really lucky to have found him.”
Spending time with Hannah is easy, her easygoing demeanour setting you at ease around her when you were sure you’d be nervous spending time alone with your boyfriend’s sister. 
The two of you have more in common than just Alfie, the conversation flowing through talk of your favourite shows, to the mutual friends you didn’t realise you had, and even to the goals the both of you have for the future before it turns back to the subject of the man whose flat you’re currently sitting in. 
“So now that I’ve got you alone I need to ask, do you have any good embarrassing photos of Alfie?” you ask, her face lighting up at the idea of it. “Or just cute childhood photos?” 
“I do! Our mum took photos of us all the time when we were growing up and I kept all her photo albums, you have to come over sometime soon and we can go through them! He was an adorable kid and his bar mitzvah photos are spectacular,” she says, the excitement at the prospect of showing you photos her brother would definitely be embarrassed about clear on her face.
“Oh my god I can’t wait to see!” you laugh, wishing you had asked her to bring some with her tonight.
Soon enough Hannah heads home, Cyril whining as she gets up to leave causing her to stay longer than she intended to appease the dog before leaving you alone together promising to show you those photos of Alfie sometime soon.
Once she’s gone you make your way into the bathroom, makeup coming off and brushing your teeth to prepare for bed, glad to be able to have Alfie’s bed all to yourself for the night. 
Settling into the bed, your phone vibrates against the wood of the bedside table the sound of it startling Cyril who had just made himself comfortable beside your legs, clearly telling you that your wish to have the bed to yourself will not be coming true anytime soon. 
Running a hand over the dog’s head to settle him, you reach for the phone unsurprised when you see it’s Alfie trying to Facetime. You snuggle into the pillows just as you hit answer, Alfie’s tired face filling up your screen.
“Hello love,” he says, the greeting that still makes your heart flutter, and forces a smile onto your face even in times you don’t feel like smiling.
“Hey Alf, how was the meeting?”
Cyril perks up at the sound of Alfie’s voice, lifting and tilting his head as he watches you curiously trying to work out where his dad’s voice is coming from.
“It was alright. How’s my boy doing?” he asks, his face lighting up at the sight of Cyril moving into frame, his large head moving to cover half of yours as he leans in and barks at the sight of Alfie. “Hello mate! How’re you doing?”
You grin, readjusting your position to allow for the huge dog trying to look at your phone with you.
“He’s good, I asked Hannah to come over for a bit tonight, so he’s had plenty of attention,” you tell him, grinning as Cyril licks your cheek.
“Hannah came over aye?”
“Yeah, I wanted a chance to talk to her alone for a while now and tonight seemed like a good chance for it,” you admit, suddenly feeling the need to defend your choice though when Alfie smiles you relax a little. 
“That’s good love, I’m glad you two get along so well. Just don’t fucking believe everything she says about me yeah? I’m not as bad as she makes me out to be,” he grumbles.
You smile at the frown on his face, wishing you could reach out and take his face between your hands, feel his beard beneath your fingers the distance between you making you miss him more than you expected to.
A yawn forces its way out your mouth, your eyes becoming heavy as Alfie chats about his day. Cyril settles in against your side, his snoring picking up soon enough and you struggle to keep your eyes open any longer.
“Get some sleep love, I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he says.
“Night Alf, I love you,” you mumble, not entirely aware of what you’re saying in your sleepy state.
Alfie’s eyebrows go up, the shock on his face at your declaration unnoticed by you as he bids you goodnight once again and hangs up as your eyes drift shut. 
Tags: @eap1935 / @coolmaybelateruniverse / @sandyddt / @inkeducatednnerdy / @ravendor28 / @thisisjeany / @overitall2018 / @outofbluecomesgreen / @mollybegger-blog / @bilesxbilinskixlahey / @elemeph / @pointlessblogger99 / @marvelfangirl-x / @madbrilliant84 / @lotusbreathe 
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sabinefm · 4 years
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( bruna marquezine , cis female , peach ) welcome to aida&stefano , SABINA REUBE ! thank you for choosing to stay here. in this form it says that you go by the SHE / HER , you’re TWENTY THREE years old , you’re originally from SAN FRANCISCO , and you’ve been staying here for ONE YEAR . it also says you’re known to be + RESOURCEFUL , but also - SELFISH. that really shouldn’t be a problem though. check in at the front , hope you enjoy your stay ! (the click of heels, hot sand under your bare feet, chocolate covered strawberries, the imprints a bra leaves on your skin, red lipstick staining your fingertips )
ABOUT THE MUN.  i hope this email never finds you 
hello all, my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything, ever in my life sdjkdskj this is especially true today, rip. no but honestly, i never thought i would actually get accepted into this beautiful rp so i stalled checking acceptances cause i’m a Scaredy Cat and that made me really late, and then i ended up taking the rest of my coworker’s shift cause she had to go and thus ended up coming home even later than i thought which has made me really really late... BUT against all the odds i’m here! and ready to party! and tell y’all about my bby sabina! but first a little bit about me, i am twenty four (ew), i can’t cook (rip), and i currently spend most of my lonely quarantine days either watching anime or scrolling through tiktok. i am canadian but every canadian that meets me thinks i’m american and i don’t know why. when i was a child i had an irrational (or yk very rational) fear of sharkboy from sharkboy and lava girl, and tbh it has never left me. i was also afraid of gill from kim possible so you can imagine my horror when that fish f*cking movie won an oscar?? when i was younger i also thot god looked like king triton from the little mermaid cause he was white and he had a beard yk. it fit in my little brain. and finally i just recently discovered girl in red and therefore feel like i finally got my bi girl card,,, feeling validated in this chillis tonight. and if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about me idk what will. anyways, that’s officially enough about me onto who we’re all really here for, ms sabine!
BIO.  the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it... astounding  tldr ; daughter of a guy who created a dating site + app, came to a&s after leaving her husband to be at the alter after catching him cheating with her mother, wants to be a bad bitch, sometimes succeeds. 
THEN.
sabina came into the world the child of a mediocre stay at home mom and a penniless entrepreneur so it goes without saying that she had very little. her dad had a lot of passion and a lot of drive but no one would really give him a chance, and her mother kind of only married the man because she was expecting him to make it big enough for her to never have to work another day in her life so? yeah she was hella disappointed tbh 
but not sabina! she looked up to her father so much as a child. while her mom was kind of ~emotionally unavailable~ her father was too, but like at least he had a dream he believed in, yk? he wanted to help people fall in love and sabine being the big romantic she was as a child had never heard of anything so noble. her daddy was her hero. sabina honestly had big daddy’s little girl vibes until she was like 22 tkjsdkjd
one day when their family credit card got rejected one too many times sabina’s mother called it quits on yk the whole mother gig. she left sabina on a bench outside of the grocery store while she went to go home and ‘get some cash’ which even at seven sabine knew was a damn lie cause they were too broke to have any damn cash. and yeah that was the last sabina heard of her for a long ass time. it was a reverse ‘dad went to get some cigarettes’ situation but just as traumatic honestly. 
although not as much for sabine’s dad. that man literally saw his wife leaving him as a minor setback and moved on. he threw himself harder into his work, to the point where sabine barely saw him. this was the start of sabine desperately trying to compete with her father’s business for even a sliver of his attention. this was a battle she usually lost. 
sabine raised herself for a while there, since her father yk remarried his job and her mother was following the jonas brother’s cross country. she became both very independent and very lonely for a child, which was an odd combination that both haunted sabine for pretty much the rest of her life after that point and lead her to make most of her worst decisions. but that’s a story for another time, because right when all hope was lost sabine’s father won the lottery. literally. 
all at once they were five million dollars richer. they went from nothing to everything real quick. and this marked a change in the reube’s lives in a way sabine couldn’t have even imagine at the time. 
sabine’s father hector used the money to fund his business and that shit blew up! he created a site by the name of loveisblind that was in the ring with the likes of match.com and christianmingle yk, one of those dating sites. everyone on loveisblind is set up on blind dates based on the information they fill out on their profile and are only allowed to see each other when they reach a certain point of emotional intimacy. the site had wild success rates, and got very popular, blah, blah, the point was the reubes? suddenly rich af!
and you think that would give hector more time to spend with his daughter right? no. it gave hector the money to hire nannies for his daughter. 
yes, somehow despite hector no longer having to work himself to the bone, sabine saw him even less. tragic really. she really became that lonely rich girl trope real quick, and this is what unfortunately got sabine into the habit of seeking the attention she wasn’t getting from her father in other men and women, which she is not proud of. 
that unfortunately didn’t fill the void that sabine had but you know what did? making the loveisblind app so her daddy would love her. basically around the time that tinder started gaining traction and getting popular, people stopped going on the loveisblind site and started instead turning to apps. her father was trying and failing to get into that market, and sabina, being yk, actually a lot more intelligent than her father ever gave her credit for, created the app for his site and pitched it to him over his lunch one day. it was honestly one of the first times sabina can remember her father really paying attention to her in the longest time. it was also the proudest she’s ever seen him. 
the app was a big success! a whole new generation was using it and finding love, including one ms sabine reube. in the early days of the app launch sabine met her prince charming, christopher ‘kit’ johannson. he swept her right off her feet, and she fell HARD, and when they debuted their relationship it wasn’t long until they kind of became the face of the app?? like sabine’s father was the creator after all, the fact that his daughter found love on the app too was big news for a while. people followed their relationship and strived for something like that for themselves. sabine didn’t know it at the time but they were basically a walking advertisement, and her father was LIVING for that.
fast forward a bit and your girl went to yale for computer engineering and business (did her daddy’s status and money ease the way? maybe man, nepotism am i right) whilst kit went to harvard, they were long distance for a bit before they graduated and kit very publicly proposed (the whole thing was well recorded too, gotta get that gram), and then both sab and kit moved in together and both started working for their families respective companies. it was around then that sabine started to understand just how much and how often kit was cheating on her. it was a real wakeup call. 
sabine ended up breaking down to her father about her suspicions, and he basically ended up telling her to suck it up and think of the business. the fact was sabine and kit, the face of their new generation and one of the first successful couples from the app getting married and living happily ever after was amazing for the company. and the two of them calling the whole thing off just because of a little infidelity just wasn’t going to cut it. 
now once again, this is where sabine’s deep desire to be loved and accepted really bites her in the ass. this was one of the first times sabine’s father had ever really asked her for anything so... she did it. or at least she did her best to do it. she lasted until the wedding day around the time where she caught kit and her own mother (who she only invited out of a deep rooted need to actually know the woman who gave birth to her again) going at it in the coat closet of their wedding venue. yeah, at that point sabine pretty much snapped, blacked out, smashed a whole wedding cake over kit’s head, and took their honeymoon to venice on her own. she arrived at Aida&Stefano with running mascara in a ruined wedding dress trying to ask about a honeymoon suite. it was a whole mess, but you know what so is sab so at least she was on brand. 
NOW.
after sabina arrived she spent about a week mourning her failed almost-marriage and yk, destroyed family before she decided to fuck it all and reinvent herself. she desperately wanted to become someone new, someone unrecognizable from who she was before, even if it was only on the inside. so she cut her hair (the first step to every transformation) hardened everything soft about herself and made the irrevocable decision to become a bad bitch. she (mostly) succeeded. kind of. 
sabine basically curb stomped out the soft, hopeless romantic people pleaser in her and decided to become someone more unsympathetic. someone who puts her own needs first instead of burning herself up to keep others warm (cause what good has that ever done her before?). someone who people would be afraid to hurt but who wouldn’t even feel pain anyways. and to sum it up that person is a heartless bitch. or at least she tries to be.
i’m gonna stop here because this is already a lot longer than i wanted it to be and i haven’t even got to the other sections yet rip but you get the point i feel
PERSONALITY.  *feels nothing* mmm, don’t like that *feels something but like too much* mmm not a fan of that either 
most of this is tbd because i’m still developing her but
VAIN. the kind of girl who will file her nails or check herself out in the mirror while you’re talking to her. will reapply her lipstick in the rearview mirror of her car while she’s driving. checks herself out in any reflective surface, i mean i would too if i looked like bruna but Still 
KIND. even though sab tries to be a hard ass she’s probably the most loyal, generous, kind person you would ever meet deep down. like she puts on this persona of being heartless, but if anyone needs her she will be there for them. kind of hates that she’s such a softie sometimes but she can’t help it. 
EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE. doesn’t want to be hurt again and will do pretty much anything to avoid that. tries to keep people at arms length especially romantically. loves making friends though, and will indeed spoil them. 
HEADCANNONS.  who wants to hire me as their maid i’m not gonna clean im just gonna wear a cute maid outfit dust like 6 things and bend down a lot
has the vibes of that drunk rich aunt that’s always smoking like sexily as she looks far into the distance and wears like a super luxurious coat. will gossip with you. will buy you things your mom won’t. will cuss out your toxic father at the dinner table. that’s her energy.
unfortunately actually does smoke. i hate 
okay fun fact, the only reason sabine went to university for computer programming and business was because she felt her father wanted her to. she honestly has no real passion for the subject and just wanted to use her talent to make her father as proud of her as he was on the day she debuted that app to him. but now that making daddy proud isn’t like the only thing occupying her entire brain sabine like is like ??? wait what do i actually want to do with my life ??? and it took her a while to figure it out but after a while she fell back on one of her passions, art. she’s actually making a graphic novel aimed towards young adults about a modern day hades and persephone vibe, kind of about a girl who falls in love with the grim reaper and the lengths she goes to to chase after her (yes it is a Lady Reaper) into the depths of hell,,, it’s wild. she’s very proud of it but also kind of shy about it tbh. her go to critic is georgio, because she knows that little shit will be honest and yk what she respects that. 
but when it comes to making actual money your girl turns to cam work most of the time, because well. at the very least it’s quick, easy, and semi discreet. and sometimes she gets something out of it too. she figures it’s a win win, and she’s been doing it for about a year now, mostly because she absolutely refuses to use any of her father’s money. 
is allergic to cucumber. 
has a different 'relationship’ like every week or so, along with a few one night stands peppered in. unfortunately still attracted to people who are bad for her (kit for example was an asshole and a cheater and DEFINITELY conservative like she messed up on that one), but is also very afraid of falling in love again and letting herself get hurt, so she normally doesn’t let things last too long before she starts self sabotaging. 
if you ever catch sabine with like... her nails growing out or her nail polish chipped, something is wrong. like something is deeply wrong. sabine will have her nails done in the middle of the apocalypse, the only reason they would be less than perfect is if she is having a breakdown. always has colour on her nails, and usually it’s a shade of red, purple, or black. 
always has wild ass stories to tell about her tinder dates or one night stands and will tell them without shame for your entertainment. is a great storyteller honestly, a talent she got from her mother but she doesn’t want to admit that. 
fun fact, her mother mariah was PISSED when hector got rich AFTER she left him and tried for years to sue him or something but no dice. she was so angry and vengeful over the whole thing that she took the opportunity of being invited to her daughters wedding to get back at her husband where it hurt, his business. thus sleeping with kit. didn’t really think about how her daughter might feel about the whole thing because she was yk blinded by rage, but that’s just how mariah is so i mean,,, rip sabina. 
shops when she’s sad, or happy, or angry, or confused sdkjdsj will use any excuse to shop, and at this point she has more clothes than she knows what to do with. her style can be kind of out there at times, but she will let you borrow things though. 
she has a cat named momo. yes that is inspired by her being the peach skeleton. also has a parrot named poe i think. i also have the urge to give her a snake but... i will resist. so sabine wants a snake for sure 
her favourite colours are black and red
she is a horrible terrible driver. don’t drive with sabine unless you’re an adrenaline junkie or like want to die tbh 
her dad 100% set up the relationship between kit and sabine as a pr stunt, but sabine doesn’t know that yet and when she finds out her father used her like that ooh boy things are gonna get wildt. as it is now sabine just thinks she disappointed him and it’s kind of eating her alive. half the reason she’s staying here is because she doesn’t want to face him or yk her old life anymore. her father is so caught up in the shame she caused him that he hasn’t even tried to call her after the whole thing and the one time sabine got hella drunk and called him all he did was tell her what a disappointment she was and ask when she was coming back to work so we love ~parenting~
WANTED CONNECTIONS. girls will “🥺🥺🥺🥺” their way out of everything
close friends please and thanks, best friends also please, uh, can i get some awkward one night stands that avoid each other at all cost, can i get a neighbour who’s ear sabine is always talking off in the hallway between their rooms even tho they just want to go home but can’t because sabine is Oversharing, maybe a flirtationship, but also i would love an enemy (it could be for a ridiculous reason or a completely valid reason but either way please give it to me), someone she goes out dancing/partying with at piccolo, a sibling like relationship, a confidante, someone who she trusts to read her comic and maybe even do some linework, and absolutely anything else okay my brain is fried rn but i want it all! please like this and i will slip and slide into your dms <3
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