#not quite awful but yeah calling it good is maybe a bit of a stretch

[pheonix-inside]

It's very amusing being a fan of a series with subpar writing because people will call it hot garbage and like. Yeah it's not phenomenal. But it's My hot garbage. Don't judge me.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k words

warnings: asshole!steve, explicit language, alcohol use, drunk!steve, angst 

summary: you still don’t like him and he doesn’t like you, but things are a bit more bearable. and when steve is drunk and needs your help, you actually decide to help him

CHAPTER THREE | ❝𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅❞

As minor as it was, that night at Steve’s apartment changed something over the next few weeks. 

Of course, you still didn’t like him and he didn’t like you— that was something that you knew would take a lot to change— but it felt a bit different now. That hint of animosity you felt for each other was channeled into you matching his asshole nature with a quippy attitude of your own, and him not seeming to mind you doing so. 

It made things feel a little more bearable, and you actually found yourself not hating every single moment of being his assistant. But you still ended each day feeling exhausted because of the fact that you were juggling doing two jobs and working yourself to death to make sure everything was right; there were barely any moments where you could actually get a breather. 

You found yourself cherishing sleep more than you probably ever had before. The barely six hours you’d get pretty much became the highlight of your nights, as depressing as that probably sounded. Therefore, when you were abruptly woken up in the middle of the night by the loud sound of your phone ringing, you groaned. 

You rolled on your side to grab it and saw that the call was coming from a random number.  

Somehow your mind immediately went to your parents. You didn’t talk to them a lot, for reasons that you tried not to dwell on too often, but you couldn’t help but think that a call from a random number in the middle of the night usually never meant anything good and most of the time it was a family related not-good thing. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.” It was Steve’s voice on the other side. 

You let out a small sigh in relief and then quickly became a little annoyed. “It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. This better be good, Harrington.”

“So, I, uh, need a little help,” He said, and there was something about the sound of his voice right then that fully woke you up. 

You sat up in your bed and a small laugh almost fell from your lips. “Oh, my God. Are you drunk right now?” 

Steve being drunk was something you never thought you’d see, or in this case, hear. In fact, the possibility of that happening never once crossed your mind because he seemed way too serious for that. You could see him having the occasional drink here and there, but full-on drunk seemed like a stretch. 

“I hate how happy you sound about this,” He said with a scoff. “But, anyway, I can’t drive right now and my phone is dead so the bartender is letting me use his to call someone to pick me up.” 

Hearing that confused you, making your eyebrows furrow. “I’m the only number you know by heart?”

“I don’t have you saved in my phone so anytime I text or call you I see your number and I've accidentally remembered it at this point,” He explained. 

“Of course that’s the reason,” You responded with a roll of your eyes that you wish he could’ve seen. “Do you even know my name?”

He sighed at that. “Of course I do, I swear I hear someone say it at least five times a day when they drone on and on about how helpful you were at solving some issue or whatever the fuck else on set.”

You smirked at how annoyed he sounded. “Aw, are you jealous that you’re not the star of the show?”

“Well, I am the lead of the movie, so maybe I am a little jealous.”

“I’m quite flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” He said and somehow you could practically hear him rolling his eyes. It was both hilarious and satisfying to know just how much you got under his skin even when he was drunk. “Are you gonna come or what?”

You mock gasped. “Wow, that’s really not the way to talk to someone that you need help from. Especially when that someone is really only supposed to be available to you during filming hours. And last time I checked, a night shoot isn’t scheduled until this Wednesday.”

“Can you please help and come pick me up?” He asked in the most deadpan voice you probably ever heard. 

“For an award winning actor, the delivery on that line was pretty shitty,” You said as you laughed a bit. “But, I’ll still come get you. What’s the name of the bar?”

“Uh, I actually don’t remember. Hold on a second.” You could hear the phone being placed down as Steve began talking to who you assumed was the bartender; you could barely hear whatever they were saying. “Okay, it’s called Ace of Spades.”

You put him on speaker and then went to look up the bar. “What the hell? It says it’s an hour away.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”  

“Jesus Christ,” You said and shook your head as you shut your eyes because you desperately wanted to go back to sleep. “Why did you go there?” 

“Wanted to lessen my chances of potentially getting recognized. The paparazzi would have a field day with this shit.”

That actually made a lot of sense, but you refused to tell him that. 

You got out of bed and began rummaging around in your closet for a pair of sweatpants to slip on over your pajama shorts along with a jacket. “I’m coming now.”

“Thanks,” He said before you hung up. 

That was the only completely serious “thank you” you’d ever gotten from him, and of course, you knew it was only because he was drunk. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bar was in what felt like the absolute middle of nowhere and it also felt like the sort of place a horror movie would start in. 

The parking lot was practically empty aside from a few cars, one of which you knew was Steve’s, so when you walked in, it was unsurprising to see that the place was also empty. However, you were surprised, or more so creeped out, by the amount of “country” vibes the place emulated; cowboy hats littering the walls along with American flags. There was even a massive deer head hanging up that you inwardly cringed at before turning your attention to the bartender standing behind the counter.   

“Hey, I’m looking for–” Before you could even finish your statement he nodded his head in the direction of the series of booths that were a few feet away, one of which Steve was sitting at with his head down in his folded arms. You gave the bartender a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

You sat down across from Steve and leaned back in the booth. You simply looked at him for a brief moment before nudging his leg with your foot underneath the table. “Steve.” 

He only mumbled something that you couldn’t make out and burrowed his head further in his arms. 

With a small sigh, you reached out and began poking his head until he finally sat up and looked at you. “Oh, hey.”

The way he said the two simple words made it sound as if he was surprised to see you sitting in front of him.  

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “Hi? Do you not remember calling me?” 

“Vaguely, yeah,” He said and when you scoffed with a shake of your head, he only smiled at you. “I’m kidding, I remember it very clearly. Me needing your help, and you being pissed at me calling. I feel like that’s how most of our phone calls go, actually.” 

You rolled your eyes at how he easily simplified all of your conversations. “The only reason I’m ever pissed when I talk to you is because you’re being a dick.”

He completely disregarded your statement. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Confused at his words, you looked down at the shirt you had on. It was a white t-shirt that had the Pepsi logo on it, but it said “Sexsi” in the middle of it instead of “Pepsi.” You’d completely forgotten you were wearing it. 

You crossed your arms over your shirt. “I still can just leave you here, y’know.”

“That would suck.”

You almost laughed at that response because he somehow seemed even more drunk than when you talked to him on the phone. And it had been an hour, so he should’ve been at least a little less drunk at this point.

“Did you drink more after we talked?” 

“Ben wanted to cut me off, but I tipped him really big so I could get two final shots,” Steve answered with a smile. “I’m just realizing that his name is Ben the Bartender. That’s honestly pretty fucking cool.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe this is happening right now,” You mumbled. A part of you wanted to laugh while the other part of you just wanted to stare at him in disbelief. “If you puke in my car, I will leave you on the side of the highway.” 

“Very, very harsh,” He responded as he leaned back and closed his eyes, but only for a moment because you gave him another nudge under the table.  

“Come on, let’s go,” You said before slipping out of the booth. “You can walk okay, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes at you as if he was offended by your question and then stepped out of the booth, but he only made it a few steps before he stumbled a bit. You sighed as you moved closer to his side, draping one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapping one of yours around him. You started leading him toward the door. 

“Wait, you paid your tab, right?” You asked, but before giving Steve a chance to answer you, you turned your attention toward Ben who was still standing behind the bar and was now cleaning up. “He paid his tab, right?”

“Yeah, he’s all good,” Ben responded and you nodded, glad that you didn’t have to worry about that. You kept heading toward the door and then he spoke again before you pushed it open. “You’re a good girlfriend.”

You knew that you’d never see this guy again so you didn’t care enough to correct the mistake. Instead, you gave him a weak smile and just continued leading Steve out of the bar and toward your car. 

Steve laughed a bit as he settled in the passenger seat. “He thought you were my girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” You said and then handed him a water bottle that you had grabbed from your fridge because you knew that he’d probably need it. “Drink this.” 

He nodded before taking a few sips and then placing the bottle in his lap. “Can I charge my phone?”

“Yeah, the cord’s right there.” You pointed to the center console. 

You had been driving for no more than fifteen minutes before you got stuck in traffic that was nothing like what you experienced driving to the bar. There was a bunch of construction happening that, according to a sign, was going to go on for the next twenty miles. 

“I truly deserve a fucking raise for doing this,” You said as you slumped back in your seat. Your car was barely moving above ten miles per hour. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Steve said in a tone that sounded completely unserious and sarcastic, and then he reached over to pat your head.

You glared harshly at him. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He only laughed a bit at your annoyance and then nodded his head. “Got it.”

From there, you both allowed silence, aside from the music softly playing on the radio, to take over the car, which you were fine with. In fact, you’d take complete silence over hearing whatever dumb drunk comments Steve would make. 

But after only a few minutes of that, you were reminded of a question that had been on your mind probably since he called you. “What were you doing at a bar, anyway?” 

Your question was met with nothing but more silence, and for a moment you actually felt bad asking that question because maybe it was a touchy subject for him. But when you looked over at Steve, you saw that he was fast asleep; eyes shut and leaning back against the headrest. 

You let out a small sigh and continued driving, still barely moving anywhere over the next ten minutes. Conveniently, that was when Steve’s phone started vibrating in the cup holder where he placed it. You glanced down and saw that he was getting a call from someone named “Robin,” and you simply watched as it continued to ring and then went to voicemail. 

You expected that to be it, but then his phone started ringing again from the same person. You hesitated for a brief moment before letting it go to voicemail that time as well. But, it was on the third call that you decided you needed to answer it because apparently Robin really wanted to talk to Steve and maybe them calling multiple times meant that it was important. 

You placed the phone at your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi,” It was a girl’s voice on the other end. “Uh, who is this?”

You could understand her confusion so you quickly said, “I’m Steve’s assistant.”

“You don’t sound like Sheila.”

You were startled by the sudden sharpness of her words, and you quickly came to the conclusion that maybe you shouldn’t have answered the call. You took a breath before speaking again. “Sheila is pregnant and on bed rest, so I’m his assistant for the time being.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I forgot she was pregnant.” Robin said and then sighed. “Sorry for being kinda hostile. Steve’s my best friend, and it’s still so weird having a friend that’s famous. I’m never sure if I’m talking to a normal person or his stalker who’s kidnapping him. Glad to know you’re not a kidnapper.”

“I’m glad too? Sorry, I don’t really know how to respond to that, but I think I get what you mean,” You let out a small laugh and took a quick glance over at Steve and saw that he was, unsurprisingly, still sleeping. “But, Steve’s unavailable right now, so I can tell him to call you back, or I can give him a message if you want, I guess?”

“Yeah, um, just tell him that we missed him at Nancy and Jonanthan’s wedding, and we all wish he could’ve been here.”

Hearing that managed to both confuse and surprise you, but you still nodded your head even though she couldn’t see you. “Okay, got it. I’ll tell him.”

Somehow it was easy to hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” You responded and the call ended from there. 

You took another glance at Steve as you put his phone down back in the cup holder, and it was then that you realized how little you actually knew about him. Yes, the news articles that were centered around him told you things and even the short conversations you’d had with him over the past few weeks of being his assistant told you some stuff too, but none of it really told you anything.

It didn't tell you about his life outside of the film industry and Hollywood, and it definitely didn’t tell you that he was missing out on important moments with friends and family because of filming and everything that came along with it.

Maybe that was what led him to the bar; feeling something that resembled homesickness because he was missing out on an important moment for people that were his friends— or maybe even family; you were unsure of who exactly Nancy and Jonathan were. 

You knew how lonely of a job this whole acting thing could be, you’d been working in the film industry for so long that it was way too easy to see that; and sometimes it was even easier to feel it so harshly in your own way. You couldn’t even remember the last time you actually hung out with friends or accepted an invitation to do something fun with them. Instead, your mind was always on your job, focused fully on production and making sure everything was running smoothly. 

There were little moments where you hated how much you let the job consume your life— surely there was a better way to balance it all— but seeing everything come together in the end made it all worth it in your mind. You wondered if Steve felt the same way too. 

But, if that was the case, then he probably wouldn’t be drunk in your passenger seat on the same night that he was missing out on a wedding that his friends and family all wished he could’ve been at. 

Or maybe that was exactly why he was drunk in your passenger seat. He’d rather drink to avoid the sadness, and maybe even that all too familiar feeling of loneliness, rather than face it or even dwell on it because he believed that all of this would be worth it in the end. 

You were unsure of how right that assumption was— perhaps it was your sleep deprived brain making him seem more human than he actually was— but that potentially delusional thought still managed to change something for you. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was the sound of your front door opening that slightly woke you up. And then it was you realizing that you shouldn’t even hear your front door opening from your bedroom that fully woke you up and made you immediately remember that you had decided to sleep on the couch. 

Many hours earlier, after enduring a near ninety minute drive back to LA, you decided to bring Steve back to your place; mainly because it seemed like it would’ve been too much work to lug him up to his own apartment, and also because, for some reason, it didn’t feel right to simply leave him and go. You let him take your bed and prayed to God that he wouldn't throw up in it before you settled yourself on your couch and immediately fell asleep. 

Now, hours later, you were awake but still a bit bleary-eyed as your attention turned toward the door and you saw Steve shut it behind him. 

He offered you a small smile as you took in the sight of him. Two drinks balancing in one of those cardboard cup holder things in one hand, and a bag with the words “Tommy’s Coffee” branded on the side of it in his other— it was the same place where you would get his coffee and breakfast sandwich from practically every morning. 

Steve set everything on the dining room table. “I had it delivered.”

You nodded at that and walked over to him, the blanket that you pulled from your linen closet to sleep with last night still wrapped around you. 

The exchange was silent. Steve handed you the slightly smaller drink and then a wrapped up breakfast sandwich, and you watched as he took a sip of his own coffee and sat down. 

You took a long sip of yours and almost sighed in contentment at how perfect it was, and then you unwrapped the breakfast sandwich and saw that it was exactly what you would always get. 

Things stayed quiet as you both started eating, and it was a silence that felt weird and awkward. Mainly because what was happening right then was completely unchartered territory. A part of you thought that you’d wake up and he’d just be gone; like the drunk incident never happened and neither of you would bring it up come Monday or any day after that. You definitely didn’t expect to be eating breakfast with him, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant you were supposed to discuss last night. 

Finally, you decided to speak, but not about what would’ve probably made sense to talk about. “How did you know what to get me?”

“Whenever you give me my coffee and food, the receipt is on the bag, and it shows what you ordered for yourself,” He answered and that response actually surprised you, but you wouldn’t ever tell him that. 

“Very observant,” You said and then took another sip from your coffee. You fully expected him to follow up with saying something about how he only remembered your order because it “sucked,” the opening was right there for him to make that sort of annoying comment, but he didn’t. “Um, thank you for this, though.”

Steve shook his head at you as if you shouldn’t have been thanking him. “Thanks for last night. I don’t remember a lot of it, but still,” His shoulders upturned in a small shrug. “You also really didn’t have to let me take your bed.”

“The couch sucks for tall people, and I didn’t want to subject you to that,” Your answer was only partially true, you mainly gave him your bed because, despite everything, you felt bad for him. If he was sad or lonely or whatever else, it would’ve sucked waking up on your old couch which you’ve had for years and probably should’ve gotten rid of at this point. 

“Oh, also,” You started and then immediately stopped talking because you were unsure how to continue. You looked away from him for a brief moment; you were nervous and you hated that you were. “Uh, when you were asleep in my car last night your phone was ringing a lot, so I answered it because I thought maybe it was important. It was Robin, she said she was your friend. She also told me to tell you that you were missed at Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding and everyone wishes you could’ve gone. You should probably call her back when you get the chance.”

He only nodded before simply saying, “Okay,” and then took another bite of his sandwich. 

You became even more nervous, and equally confused, at the fact that things were so normal right then. And it was far from the normal that you’d become so used to with him; he wasn’t mad or annoyed at you, and he was actually being somewhat nice to you and not at all an asshole. 

That made you further think that what you assumed last night was the truth. And there was something about his demeanor right then that told you that maybe he was still a little sad about it all. 

“You know if you had wanted to go to the wedding, I'm sure Jessie would’ve been okay with pushing filming back; she's really understanding of personal stuff. And plus, we’re actually a bit ahead on filming so it probably would’ve been okay having a break for a day or two.”

“It’s not…” He trailed off and shook his head. “It’s not that.” 

It was easy to tell that he didn’t want to talk about it— the wedding, his friends, that part of his life that didn’t involve acting— so you didn’t push him further on any of it, although you were so fucking curious. 

“Okay,” You said softly and then cleared your throat. “So, your car is still stranded at the bar. We should probably go get that.” 

“You don’t have to come. I can figure out another way to get it.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. But I refuse to make that drive three times in a row, so you can drive there and I’ll sleep in the passenger seat.” 

He laughed a bit, it was a sound that was so foreign to your ears but you didn’t mind it. “Honestly, that’s a very fair deal.”

It felt weird to genuinely smile at him but you did so anyway. 

You were unsure what was happening right then, and what things would be like Monday felt like a mystery to you. A part of you wanted it all to go back to how it had been— him being rude and you dealing with it— because this Steve in front of you wasn’t the one that you’d grown to know over the past few weeks.

But then you once again remembered that you actually didn’t really know him. And maybe now you were finally getting a glimpse into that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next chapter!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Message Waiting

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing, Only One I See, One Thing Leads To Another

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

Dunno if I’ll be doing an exhaustive drabble series but there’s at least this. Let me know if you’re enjoying it or not and any thoughts you have. Love you!

Your phone lights up in the middle of the lecture and you flip it, ignoring the dual notification in the corner of your screen. Inez has no shame as she swipes through her feed, Professor Rogers' voice reaching the high ceiling as he expounds on the themes of FitzGerald. You note the title of the email before it flits back into the tool bar: Teacher's Assistant: Application Accepted.

You can't get ahead of yourself. Once you're through class, you can get excited. And anxious. Inez has taken to calling you goody two shoes over your extracurriculars but you'll laugh at her over your paychecks.

As the lesson comes to a close, Inez yawns and stretches, "you'll send me a copy of your notes?"

"Star student right here," you close your laptop and slip it in yoir bag.

"Who? You? You learn fast, Miss Sniper from the Side."

"You might get a bit better than a C if you wrote anything down," you chide as head down the row.

"Right, mom, I'll get on that," she follows you down the steps towards the front of the lecture hall, "right after I pick up my official geek badge from the station."

"You're stupid," you hurl back at her.

"Never claimed otherwise," she chuckles, "hey, you hear that, this bimbo used a big word. Otherwise!"

"Quit," you smile and stick your tongue out at her over your shoulder.

Your name smothers her response. Professor Rogers waves his pen at you as he nears, twirling it before hooking it over his shirt pocket, "so, you get the good news?"

"Hi, professor," Inez says deliberately.

"Um, hi," he gives and awkward smile before turning back to you, "so?"

"About my TAship? Yeah, I just got the email but haven't opened it–"

"So you don't know?"

"Um, it said accepted so–"

"Right, I won't spoil it," he beams, "sorry, I… you two have a good day. I gotta get across campus but if you have any questions about your placement, you know how to find me."

"Sure, thanks, professor," you nod and turn away, Inez hesitating before she trails after you.

"Uh huh, you know exactly how to find him, don't you?" She hisses as you pass into the hallway, "all you have to do is exist. Like Christ–"

"Really? You're still on this?" You huff.

"Oh, come on, you're not that clueless. He was shaking in excitement. Just to talk to you."

"Whatever," you take out your phone and swipe up. "I bet I got Laufeyson. Not even English, just my–" you pause as you open the email and read through, "huh."

"What?" She asks as she opens the front door ahead of you.

"I got… him. Professor Rogers."

"I knew it. I fucking called it," she hops down the steps in glee ahead of you, "oh my god, perfect opportunities for good old Professor Hunk!"

"Stop. Please. I'm already stressing and you're– you're freaking me out."

"Come on, I'm teasing you. We both know he's too squeaky clean to do anything like that. But it's funny, he's got a little crush on you. On you! The cutest little nerd on campus."

"Wow, thanks, you're an amazing friend," you say dryly.

"You should be flattered. He's a hottie, even for an old dude. Not exactly my flavour, you know, with the dangly bits and all, but I can tell a hot tamale when I see one."

"Do you stop? Ever?"

"No," she giggles, "come on, lets go get some tea. Then maybe you'll calm down… and we can plot how you can really make Dr. Heart Eyes squirm."

"No," you sneer.

"Aw, fine, just tea."

📱

The weight of the textbook weighs on your chest, your eyes half-closed as you lay across the narrow twin bed. In a minute, you'll finish, you swear. You just need a moment. Your phone vibes and you growl, Inez can be so annoying. And persistent.

You reach over blindly and bring your phone up, unlocking it with your thumb. The screen flashes and you hit the icon for your messages. You're surprised to find it isn't Inez, but a number without a name. You read through the last messages and realise it's Steve.

'Hey, can't wait to see you gorgeous. At the restaurant now.'

You blink and shove the book off your chest as you sit up. What the hell?

You put the phone back. Wrong number maybe? You don't know but you feel worse correcting him.

You let out a breath and grab the textbook, trying to refocus on your homework. He'll figure it out. Hopefully he can just laugh it off.

You uncap your highlighter as you contemplate another cup of coffee. It's late. You should at least try to sleep after.

You zone out to the buzz of your playlist, bulling through the last half of the chapter. History… it's like reading a story in a way but you just can't hold onto the details.

Your phone shakes again. You grab it and look at the time. You rest it on the closed textbook and yawn. It's veen thirty minutes since hisnlast text but you don't think he realises.

'Hey, you still coming?' Followed by the smiley emoji. Oh god.

You should tell him. You should let him know he's texting the wrong person. You key in the message and hover over send.

You can't. You feel the second-hand embarrassment through the phone. Hopefully he figures it out and just deletes the messages and pretends it didn't happen.

You black out the screen and plug in to the charger. You pile up your textbook and notebook and drop them on the floor beside the bed. You hit the bottom of the lamp and it turns off before you flop against the pillow. You're too tired to worry about all this.

You drift off easily. You sleep most of the night but wake at the noise of one of your roommates in the kitchen. The place is small and the walls are thin. You groan and rub the sleep from your eyes.

You get up and pull on your robe, dragging your feet into the hall and down to the bathroom. You take your time and come out as Ellie waits outside. You apologise and go back to your room.

You take your phone and look at the time, a speech bubble floating beneath. You hit it to expand the preview.

'So sorry. Wrong number. Hope you had a good night.'

You snort, slightly amused. At least he caught his mistake. You swipe away the notification and unlock the screen, going through the dailyl listless scroll of social media.

[toomuchracket]

girly is home sick one day before they’re together and he just keeps like making a point to walk past her desk waiting for her to come in, when one of her work besties clocks it and goes. oh she called in sick today. to which 1- he tries to back peddle being like “i was just on a stroll of the office stretching my legs, not looking for anyone” (not fooling anyone either). and 2 stops for way too many sick person supplies on the way home and brings her a little care package with like meds, sweets and soup or something.

i'm seeing this as being like at the point where you're fairly good friends but still trying to remain cool in front of each other lmao. you weren't getting the train in together this morning anyway because matty had breakfast radio press to do in central london already, so when you don't show up in the office at your usual time he's a little bit concerned - whatever, though, maybe a train's delayed, or you had an appointment, or some other trivial thing he doesn't know about. an hour passes, he wanders past your desk again, and you're still not there. same again forty-five minutes later, so he texts to ask if you're alright. there's no reply - maybe you're on the train? but no, as evidenced when he walks past your desk half an hour after the last time he did and the radio promotion girl at the next desk down is like "yo, matty, she's not here"; he's scrambling to sound nonchalant like "who's not here", and the girl smirks like "the person whose desk you've been walking back and forth to the whole morning", and he's like "have i? i've just been having a wander. knee keeps seizing. gotta keep it moving and all!", and the girl is like "uh huh. well, anyway, i answered her phone call earlier to say she wouldn't be in, and she sounded awful, bless her. she thinks it's sinusitis. doesn't know when she'll be back". matty's internally both distraught at the concept of not seeing you and extremely worried, and he's like "oh, that's terrible. should we send flowers?", and the girl is like "i mean... she's only been off less than a day", and he's like "yeah ok good point. well, thanks" and trudges back to his office quite glumly. he perks up a bit on his lunch break, though - nipping into the tesco express to buy cigs, he has the genius idea of getting you a little care package and dropping it off to you on his way home, so he grabs some chicken soup, and cold and flu meds, and nice tea, and honey, and chocolate, and a cute little bunch of tulips (and has to run back in to buy a gift bag lol). it takes you ages to answer the intercom and buzz him up when he rings the doorbell to your flat that evening, but you open the door so quickly matty suspects you were waiting by it for him, and he kinda loves that. you don't look well, your face sadder and more wan than usual, but he thinks you're adorable, all messy-haired and sleepy and cosy in your massive hoodie; your face lights up when you see him, and then goes all 🥺 when he hands you the little care package. you're like "thank you. this is really sweet, you didn't have to. but i appreciate it", and matty's like "just wanted to see how you were. missed you today" - you smile shyly like "yeah, i saw you texted, but my headache was too bad to look at my phone and reply. missed you too. was looking forward to hearing about the radio show at work today", and matty's like "it was good. you think you'll be back in a couple of days? we can listen to it together on the drive in". you smile and say "hopefully. m'feeling better after seeing you, so maybe if i keep thinking about you i'll be cured by then", and matty can do nothing but giggle like a lovesick teenage girl; he's like "darling i think the meds you've had are making you loopy", and you're like "nah, i'm lucid" and wink, and he teases like "well maybe you're more ill than we thought. i'd better go home and let you recuperate". but that's so difficult for him when you sigh and say "shame. but yeah, go and have your tea. and if you're not busy... call me later? talking to you is the most exciting thing that's happened to me all day", and matty's like "omg of course yeah i'll call you in a couple of hours. take it easy, darling. i'll see you soon", and he SKIPS to his car after you say goodbye and blow him a kiss. cute <3

[iguana-eyanna]

The Animal From Within

Pairing: Thraxus Boorman x pregnant reader

Summary: One look at you, Boorman instantly surrenders

a/n: I am very feral for this man. He is the main reason why I watched the series. Like, he's such a gifted performer and I hope to see more of him on the screen

warning: lactation kink, smut, oral, one curse word, mentions of labor

You were hanging up clothes outside of your home.

It has been quite hard as you were very pregnant, and couldn't bend down to the basket of wet clothes that was on the ground.

"I told you to wait for me to do them." a rugged voice said out loud. You turn around and see your husband back from the market.

"Your clothes were stinking up the place, could have started a fire." You joked as you still attempted to bend down. You groan as your hand flies to your stomach and the other to your back.

Boorman runs toward you, steadying you as his eyes widen with worry.

"Is it time? Shall I call the midwife?" He asks.

You look up, grinning mischievously as you stood upright.

"Gotcha!" you said.

Boorman was almost speechless as his features seemed a bit angry.

"You... witch." Boorman mutters under his breath.

You thought it'll be funny if you pretended to go into labor in front of Boorman, as his deepest fears was if he had to deliver his own babe.

He hasn't taken that joke lightly.

"Wished you could call me other names, ey?" You said, placing your hands on your waist.

"Never, I love you too much to say those nasty things." He said, hugging you closer to him.

"Yeah, cause you know I would chop your balls off in your sleep." You replied.

Boorman gives a breathy laugh and kisses your forehead.

"Go lie down, I'll finish here and I'll rub your feet later."

You smile and kiss his cheek before waddling slowly to the inside of your home. After the war, you and Boorman realized that it was time to end their dangerous expeditions and start a new adventure.

You two built a home in the middle of the woods, finding peace and quiet. Some of your friends visit time to time and soon you two realized that maybe children could be in your near future.

Boorman loved to play around, he was like a six foot kid himself. He would entertain the village children with stories his daring missions as they stare up at him in awe. He begged, begged you that you two were ready to have kids of your own. You caved in, and soon you were expecting your first baby.

He was thrilled the day you told him, he even lifted you off the ground and spinned you in the air. After then, he worshipped your body and mind every single day. He always kissed your belly when he woke up, gave you back massages, learned how to cook food that you wouldn't feel nauseous eating, and never left his hand away from your belly.

And the sex you two had? If people were around the woods, they could have sworn they heard two wolves fighting for their prey. Each intimate moment was passionate, erotic, you name it. He loved every curve, every stretch mark, and every inch of your skin.

When he was done with the chores, he walked inside to see you rubbing your belly as your eyes fluttered. You must have been tired, especially since you were carrying his baby (a nurse told you that the baby would probably come out more than 10 lbs).

He smiled to himself as he lifted your legs and began to massage your feet and legs. You couldn't help but whimper at how good his hands traveled around your body.

"You're too good to me." You whispered.

"I should say the same thing about you." he replied, leaning closer to your face.

You slightly whimper when you try moving, as your breast became so sore. They doubled in size, and any slight friction made you wince from whimper. You look down and see your dress was becoming damp. You try not making a sound but Boorman already noticed.

"Love?" he asks, his hands already holding yours.

"Don't worry, Thrax. I just need to change. I think I'm leaking." You said, trying to lift your dress up.

"Oh?" He asks, sitting up.

Never have you seen this man curious till he had a thorough conversation with your midwife. He made sure what to expect in the coming months, and learned that you'll be lactating later in your trimester. He sees how you're struggling and goes in front of you, untying your dress from the body. He looks up to you, not breaking any eyecontact.

It was kinda sexy as he took care of you, and his movements became slower when his hands reached your breast. Once he slips off your straps, your breast slowly come out and he stares at them a bit longingly.

"May I say, you look more breathtaking everytime I look at you?" He whispers.

You blush at his charming words and roll your eyes.

"You're just saying that." You tease as you lean back, placing your hands on the bed, purposely letting him see every curve of your body.

His eyes grow darker as you could hear a growl from the back of his throat.

"I will never lie to you. You're a goddess." He says, now towering over you.

He guides your body and you lie down on your back. He gently caresses your face and kisses you. Your kisses became hungrier and sloppy and his hands travel to your breast.

"Thr-Thraxus." You gasp out as he squeezes your chest.

He growls more as you say his first name, it always drives him insane. "Do you want me to relieve you, love?" He asks.

You couldn't muster what he was saying and he looks down at you.

"I want you to beg."

Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod your head.

"Yes, Thraxus... please."

He smirks and lowers down and pepper kisses your collarbone.

"Let me take care of my pregnant, luscious wife."

His mouth kisses you around the breast and soon slowly surrounds your bud.

Gasping, you throw your head back on the mattress. You hold his hair close to your chest as you soon try to take off your undergarments.

Boorman was way ahead of you and threw them off of you. He uses one hand to massage your breast and the other teasing your inner thighs.

"So lovely on my tongue, so... euphoric." He moans as he attacks your other breast. His fingers then travel to your swollen clit and sense your wet state. He slowly inserts his fingers, pacing himself as he doesn't want you to over-exert yourself.

You moan louder, your breath quickening as your senses overwhelm your body. He kisses you again, grunting.

"I will forever worship your body, your soul, every inch of your skin." He whispers in your ear.

"I want you, Thraxus. All of you." You say.

Smiling, he huringly takes off his pants and grabs his erect cock, guiding his tip to your entrance.

"Must do what the wife says." he says, giving you a wicked smile.

He thrusts slowly, feeling how slick your walls are. He grunts harder, creating a faster pace. You hold onto his arms tightly as you feel yourself climaxing.

"Faster, Thrax, please." You moan.

He couldn't form words as his mind scattered. His movements became fierce. It was like he was succumbing to the beast likes desires he once had in his youth.

But one look at you... by the gods he swore under his breath, that you tame the animal from within.

"I love you. I want to father the children you bear and I'll fight thousands of beasts to ensure nothing will harm my family. I'll provide every need you want day and night. I will serve you till my dying breath and I will not pass to the afterlife till I reunite with you again."

You started to cry at this point, as his hands held onto your body like his life depended on it. You were his prayer, his oath, the only thing that kept his heart beating.

You two caught your breath and slowly you rose up, placing a hand on his chest. He slowly pulls out and quickly dries your eyes. He quickly fetches a clean cloth and cleans you up softly.

You stopped him when he was done and traveled your hands to his face, staring at his sharp features that remind you of the crescent moon that illuminated the night.

"Your words make me blush like a rose. If you weren't a warrior, you would have been a great poet."

Boorman chuckles as he softly brush your hair.

"Each word painted your image. What would you say for me?" he asks, wanting to amuse himself.

You subtly bite your bottom lip, thinking.

"Your eyes... In those days when you can't express what you feel, I look at your eyes. They tell me the thousands of stories your lips cannot. Your heart... beats like a thousand soldiers walking to battle. But when you're with me, it beats like a bird's wings. And your mind... Oh, what I could do to heal whatever haunts your thoughts. I just hope that I can give you the peace you need."

Boorman doesn't reply yet, yet feels his eyes betray him as tears pour down his cheeks.

"Fuck." He simply said, trying to wipe them away.

You shake your head and chuckle, stopping him as you dry them for him.

He holds your wrist softly and kisses your palm.

"You give me everything I want and more, I love you." He says.

"and I love you." You said. Both of your lips reunite, as you hold onto each other.

"Mmmmm" You grunted, pulling away as your hand flew to your belly.

"It's not funny when you do it twice in a day." Boorman jokes.

"No, I'm not faking it. It feels real-" You groan again, holding onto Boorman's arm.

Your trick doesn't fool him, but you didn't break out of character. His eyes widen as his mind realized what was going on.

"Wait, this is real?" He screams out loud.

You nod your head as the contraction still takes over your body. Boorman holds your hand and coaches you to breathe. You follow along and soon the contraction died down.

"Guess it's time." You said, smiling nervously. Boorman shares the same grin as he kisses your temple.

"I'll run to the midwife, stay here." He says, running towards the door.

"Thrax?" You yell out.

"Yes, my love?" He says, running back to you.

"I think you need to wear pants before running in the village." You said, as he looks down and sees that he was still naked.

He grumbles under his breath as he hurriedly pulls up his pants and threw on his boots.

he bends down and kisses your lips before leaving.

"Don't have this baby without me." He says before he runs out of the house.

"I'll try not to!" You reply as you could hear Boorman cheering out loud, saying how you were having the baby.

You look down and rub your belly, shaking your head as you chuckle.

''You're going to have one hell of a father."

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

"gibraltar// i used the map, followed glossy in my pocket, to find the footpath up, which began with great wide steps colored on the sides with the british flag and the word "apes". from there it devolved into a rocky path, and i felt so cool walking swiftly seeking new footsteps in my new too-cool nikes. hiking fast fast up, and think fast fast up in real present time, every synapse firing in seek of the next step; the quick scan of terrain rock and dirt, flash judgments on distance, stability and comfort. and so necessary to your unbreaking legs is this attention to the ground beneath the feet that all extraneous thought is gone, its just find the STEP, find the STEP, find the STEP, and is this suddenly meditation? perhaps.

then there the path ends and now a small stretch of narrow road, now a boring paved walk up up, and aw come on i wanted to hike all the way. ah, but: there: just over a blue gate: is: my god,

----a
--gigantic ---------stone -------------staircase

going all the way up the side of the rock of gibraltar. easily three hundred steps. and its fenced off, because looking just a bit up i can see the metal banister is completely wasted, twisted and dangling towering-inferno-style, with a sheer drop teasing. yeah, they cant let people climb this. but they havent really done that good of a job of closing it, have they? just a sign, "no access", and a gate, but no, i could jump that very easily. and john cougar (premellencamp) stirs my blood-- "i fight authority, authority always win…well, ive been doin it since i was a young kid and i come out grinning…" and grinning indeed i was as i started up, so many steps, sweat pouring off of me, but knowing that at the top (assuming the rock cops arent waiting for me) ill see the rock a lot more clearly then my taxied neighbors.

something new on this contract is that i dislike my musical director quite a bit. he is old and tired. the soul is gone. he calls impenema. he condescends and yells. he forgets things. hes foolish. he talks incessantly. hes rude, belittles the guest entertainers and av staff to their face. worst of all, he is a terrible bass player, missing accidentals left and right. nothing so bad as a bass note a half step off. he got lost during naima and walked off the stage. and then he keeps playing these power fifths during jazz ballads…what the fuck? anyway.

so i am learning again the songs of hated authority, watching myself with mystery and glee when i am silent and cold, or harsh and belligerent. never am i so unenlightened as when i am dealing with bad authority. such small electric thrill, the game the cruel game i play to let this man know he does not have my respect. you dont get to have my jokes, my eye contact, my full conversation, my easy compliance. i will hold back from you until you remember what you are doing and start to do it well. so childish i am! so so! and i am not as bad as i was in the teen years, but sometimes i break and i bring it on and i am difficult just for the joy of watching him lose his shit. its human, its what happens, and i wont believe that its all bad when i can do it and he can do it. that is: not all negative interactions are necessarily bad. they are the whole, they call me out and slam me and challenge me and grow me. the world of ego cannot just be ignored. now i keep it down, and i try not to spend dinner in the mess spilling my complaints onto the others as so many crew members do, but i enjoy my private jousts, and i delight with fantasies of it going too far, i tingle when it starts to happen again and theres another experience to soak in.

in school a lot i got accused of challenging authority for its own sake, but this is not so; its only disenlightenment that i challenge, authorities who are cold and closed and cruel. and they get it, they get it from me, and i know its not constructive for them, i cant change them, but maybe it is constructive for me. let me feel it. let me remember my me deep inside, hard and inflexible. let me know how people work, what the lines are---

and most important how absurdity fits into it all. ie what if in the middle of this lecture i just start saying meowing at the man, literally meowing and clawing at my boss like a cat? answer to that one: i will get taken out to the deck and yelled at.

that happened a few nights ago. the tension did create some really hot music, ill say that at least.

at the top of the rock of gibraltar, above the monkeys who leapt at me, i climbed still further, off the road, on top of a lookout tower and high onto the rock cliffs where the sky was everywhere and the wind a sea of sound. and there almost at the top there were seagulls, seagulls everywhere, all screaming "CAAA! CAAAA!" and the higher i got the more they screamed at me. until finally they started diving at me, swooping right down at my head with the most deafening high shrill "CAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" and i ducked fast and the wind and the sky and the sea on three sides around me, africa in the distance, and one dropped guano just to my left in a deafening splat and another dive bombs me, CAAA!!!! and im maybe 20 feet form the top. but CA-CAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! and so i, scared, screamed out loud, "All Right! All Right! Im Going!" and i turned back, back to my human world of taxis and roads and petty ego interactions so far removed from this raw rock and sky. ill play all i want in that human world, but the birds had authority there, and the authority of birds great masters of the heaven, is not to be challenged."

-Dave Malloy, Pointless, 21 May 2005

[luveline]

omg please the same james and reader from ur two drunk reader blurbs but w drunk james and he's like "i dont wanna be your friend" cause. u know (unless you have a different idea for them or u think this defeats the purpose idk up to you i love you thanks)

thank you so much for your request, this was perfect! really perfect, it got away from me a little bit <3 the prequels (you don't have to read): 1 2 3

You watch James struggle through a tequila shot with a fond look on your face. Leaning against the cold brick wall of Sirius Black's house, you can smell the comforting wafts of woodsmoke as the outdoor burner putters away, the sticky sweet smell of foxglove that peeks over the tops of his ordinate brown fence, the whispers of James' cologne where it lingers on his jacket. You wrap it tighter around yourself to stave off the cold chill. 

James sees this because he sees everything. 

"Are you cold?" he calls. 

You shake your head vehemently, lying but for a reason. If James knows you're cold, still, even after he's sacrificed his jacket for you, the too-kind boy will insist on going inside or taking you home. He's having a good time for once and you want that to continue. It's also the reason why you refuse the tequila offered to you. You don't want him to have to babysit you, and you've not quite learned moderation yet: you're trying. It's hard. Easier with James. 

He gives you a perfect smile, lips stretching over teeth and nose twitching. You're close to the fire, its heart warming your legs. James sits in a garden chair at a table of his friends. It's a tame party with an obvious VIP section that you feel lucky to be included in, though you know it's just because James is sweet on you, not because his friends really like you that much. 

Well, maybe they do. This is one of the only times you've been sober enough to tell. Or care.

James seems to be drinking for the both of you as he loses yet another hand of cards. Sirius had proposed the - quite frankly dangerous knowing James' awful poker face - rule of taking a shot each time you lose. James has thrown back one, two, five, you can't remember how many shots. There's a distinct brightness to his eyes. His card skills are deteriorating quickly. 

You're in no position to tell him to slow down, so you don't, but his pale friend Remus has your back. 

"Mate, stop. Sirius, don't make him have another." 

Sirius shrugs. "I's the rules." 

"James," Remus starts, then sighs as your dark-haired friend takes another shot. "Alright, you're banned. Go bother your girlfriend." 

You blush because you know he means you. James grins wide but then seems to realise he's being kicked out of the game. 

"Fuck off, I'm gonna win this one." 

A fresh hand is dealt and Remus peaks at James' inquisitively. "No," Remus says, patting James on the shoulder. "You're not." Then, when he makes no move to get up. "Y/N just said she was cold." 

James looks to you, betrayed. You look to Remus, betrayed. Remus looks at neither of you, and instead stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray smouldering away in the middle of the circle glass table to take a big swig of beer. He seems smug. 

"Smarmy bustard," you mumble to yourself with no real heat, traitorous face quickly transforming as James rounds the table. He's tall, looking down at you all soft-eyes and scolding. "Hi, Jamie." 

"You're cold?" he asks. 

You sigh, knowing that sooner rather than later, James' bloodstream is going to absorb the exorbitant amount of tequila he has drank, and then you are going to be in a lot of trouble. "Yeah. A bit. Aren't you?" you ask, and your question is sincere, looking over the bulk of his arms curiously and then with too much heat. You feel awful for thinking it, but he has very, very nice arms. He looks like he could pick you up. He looks like he could set you down. 

You're knocked from your unholy reverie by his hands, big and hot and kind as they rub up and down your arms. The friction is warming. The proximity is worse, a heat like hell in your chest. He's not looking at you as he says, "I'm warm-blooded." 

So am I? You think to yourself. 

He smirks as his eyes travel back to your face, though it's quickly gone, turns soft once again. He smiles at you slowly.

"You look very pretty tonight. Have I told you?" 

"You might have mentioned it," you murmur bashfully. He'd said it with little fanfare as you got in the car, so earnest it had felt inarguable, "You look stunning." 

"Shall I tell you again?" 

You put his obvious flirting down to drunkeness and push up off of the wall, hoping for a little bit of space between you so you can regain your balance and wits. 

"D'you want to go inside? See if they're playing any good music?" you ask, though they're probably playing the same records they always play here. 

James nods like you know he will and you smile your thanks, weaving through potted plants and over cracked paving stones into the house. The patio doors lead into the kitchen, which is busy with Mary and the other girls trying to cook four frozen pizzas on two pizza trays, and a bunch of people you don't know at the table talking rapidly about something you don't follow. James seems more interested and you selfishly grab for his hand to pull him with you into the living room.

He doesn't argue. "Is it me or is the floor soft?" he asks, words bundled together sloppily, fingers tight to the point of aching in your hand. He almost trips over the threshold. 

You flex your finger until he eases his grip, looking for somewhere for him to down. There, in the corner of the room, a desk chair. It spins, unfortunately, but James seems to like it. 

"There," you say, patting his shoulder with your free hand. He has adamantly refused to let go of the other. 

 They're playing a Stevie Wonder song. James doesn't know the words so he hums, and you try to think of conversation. Much more difficult when you're not inebriated. 

"How're you feeling?" you ask him, leaning down. 

He slouches in the chair. "Great!" he says too loudly. "You're not drinking?"

"I'm trying to be less of a burden on you," you tell him, lips barely moving as you confess. You're embarrassed. James seems to take a moment to ingest this. During his silence you fix his hair tentatively, tucking ink black curls behind his ears, marvelling at their almost elfin point. You readjust his glasses as you go, pushing them up his nose carefully. 

"There," you say, allowing yourself a quick squeeze of his cheek, a rapid dip into his honeypot eyes. "Good as new." 

"You're not a burden on me," James says. You laugh, wondering if this conversation will be two steps back the entire time. 

"Thanks, James. But I knew you'd say that." 

He frowns, shifting in the chair, chin jutting up almost testily. It's attractive, to say the least, and you're busy soaking up the details of his jaw when he says, "How could you know?" 

You're close enough to smell the tang of alcohol on his breath. 

"Because you're a good friend," you tell him. You go to straighten your back, stand tall again to join the party. James pulls you back in, hand wrapped into the fabric of his jacket. 

"A good friend," he repeats, licking his lips as he looks at yours. You feel a wave of heat wash over you. "Is that all I am?" 

You feel terrible, then. "No! Jamie, you're amazing. At everything, I value you for much more than your friendship." 

If he were sober you think he might have poked fun at your sappy confession or your nervous disposition. Tipsy James has much less humour. 

"What I mean, is: I don't want to be your friend, sweetheart." 

Your heart skips. For a split second you think, fuck, fuck, I've fucked it up and he hates me and then something in your brain clicks. Resounding, reverberating, a wave of chills follow. Your arm hairs stand on end. 

James is still looking at you seriously, dark, beautiful and somehow formidable. 

"James…" you look down at his lap where your joined hands rest. "You're drunk." 

"You don't believe me?" 

You kind of don't. All his physical signs, his heat, his magnetism and charm, they all might lead you to believe he liked you. The way he's looking at you now might have proven it alone. But he really is intoxicated, and you're not the catch he thinks you are. 

"I can't believe you," you say.

"Because I'm drunk." 

"Because you're drunk. Because I'm not." 

He runs the fabric of his borrowed jacket between his fingers, seemingly eating up the sight of your neck. "I don't follow," he says quietly. 

"I'd have to be drunk to believe it. Because it's – ridiculous. Because it doesn't make any sense. I'm sloppy, and stupid, and irresponsible and selfish. You could have any girl you want," you whisper the last sentence pleadingly, hand placating on his shoulder. You feel the corded muscle beneath shift as he sits up. 

"I want you," he says, and tries to kiss you. 

You hold him away from you. "James, stop." 

That one word makes him back off, looking lighter, expression abated by confusion. 

"You don't want me?" he asks. 

You bite your lip and turn your face to the side, as if searching for something to save you, a friend, a distraction. This side of the room is abandoned, everybody crowds the record player. 

You can't think. You don't know what to do. 

"James," you say, always his name, always like you were meant to say it. "You don't know what you're saying. What you're doing. And even if I believed that you did, I just saw you drink half a bottle of tequila. It doesn't matter what I want." 

His pupils wobble as his eyes move from one side of your face to the other. He seems to deflate, sighing loud, hand falling from your jacket. You're relieved as you stand, taking back a little bit of space. He's still holding your hand. 

He lifts them up. "This is okay, though?" 

"Yeah. This is okay."

"Sit down?" he asks, rolling the chair back so you can sit on the desk. 

You sit. He pinches your fingers, and after a while you feel his soft head of curls rest on your thigh. 

"What are you doing?" you ask, hand impulsively coming to card through them. 

"Trying to sleep it off," he says into your skin. “S’I can tell you again.”

Your heart stutters. You sort your fingers through his hair for a long time, thighs going numb. He talks to you in fits and starts that you strain to hear until he falls asleep. You keep stroking his hair. You don't know what else to do. 

"Oh, sweetheart," you murmur to yourself, taking the glasses from his face carefully. He smiles in his sleep like he's heard you. He has a nice smile. 

[charlewiss-writes]

flight cancelled / george russell

masterlist

day 9: airport (part of one-word november prompts!)

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: trying to get home was never more difficult. maybe it was for a reason after all.

author's note: this is awful lmao hope tomorrow will be better 😵‍💫

word count: 0.6k

"what do you mean the flight is cancelled?" you mom almost screamed through the phone. knowing how she would react, you had already removed the little electronic far away from your ear, to avoid going deaf before actually coming back home. "yeah, there's not much that I can do, you know?" you were a bit pissed. it wasn't like you had preferred staying hours stranded at the airport rather than going back to your parents house. "I'm sorry, I have to go now, bye!' you quickly ended the call before she could object with whatever motive she could find.

"annoying boyfriend?" a voice called from behind. when you turned back, you were met with the figure of a tall man, engulfed in a too-big blue hoodie, hair fluffy and slightly going over his blue eyes that looked at you curiously. you smiled, still a little bit warily, not knowing the man well enough to strike a full conversation. "no, annoying mom" you joked back. he caught your unsure approach and giving you his hand to stretch, he introduced himself. "sorry, should have introduced myself before. i'm george. i would assume you were supposed to be on the flight to england too?"

you huffed and nodded, clearly annoyed at remembering again why you were stranded at the airport. he continued. "I don't think we'll get an answer soon about when we can go back home". he was now sitting beside you, with his small luggage just by his side. "don't tell me about it. I was supposed to be there at her birthday and now I won't get there on time" you rubbed your hands on your face, trying to get rid of the stress that had built in your furrowed forehead. "I can get both of us back at home" he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the poor woman that was sleeping beside you. you laughed a bit, incredulous at what he was saying "it's not like we can drive there, george".

"it's quite a long story. coffee first, maybe?"

you weren't accustomed to the f1 world, so it didn't surprise you too much when he told you he was a famous driver, lewis hamilton's teammate at mercedes. glady he didn't think it was mean that you didn't even have a clue who he was: on the contrary, you had started to like george even before knowing about what he did for a living, and it amazed him that he could simply be george at your side, not bothering to put on the perfect pr-trained mask he was so used to portraying.

—

"you're going on a date? with who?" your mother was following you all around the house, asking a lot of questions while you grabbed all the things you needed before heading out to meet george at a local café near your house. after getting to know him at the airport and then, when he kindly offered to fly you so you could get here on time for your mom's birthday, you had continued texting back and forth, not being able to spend a minute without the british on your thoughts.

"it's not a date, mom. and I don't know, someone i met?" you tried giving the least amount of info you could, knowing that she wouldn't let you in peace, always intruding too much on your personal life (not that you minded too much, knowing that she had good intentions).

she frowned at your answer. "you never go out, and all your uni friends are out of town. where did you met them?" she was right. you didn't have another choice than tell her the truth. "at the airport?".

[classickook]

paper hearts (part eight): one step at a time

pairing: stephen strange x widow!reader

summary: things are going well for you at the sanctum as you master your knowledge of the mystic arts. not only that, but it seems that you and stephen are growing closer with each passing day…

warnings: swearing, mentions of depression and ptsd, awkward flirting, domestic fluff

word count: 6.1k

a/n: this is kind of a filler chapter of sorts? just some good stuff i think we all need from stephen and our widow <3 also shoutout to @singhfae for some of the ideas i included in here!

series masterlist | main masterlist

another morning was spent in the kamar-taj training grounds to touch up on some protective spells and shields. you had found yourself spending an awful lot of time here, enjoying the fresh air and open landscape with miles upon miles of breathtaking scenery; you didn’t think you would ever get used to it, and you certainly didn’t think you would ever get used to possessing magic. 

you liked how the magic felt between your fingertips, like it was pure energy fizzling through your veins and moving outwards like an extension of yourself, stretching farther and wider than any weapon you had ever held could reach. 

it felt really fucking cool to put it simply. your abilities had grown the more you practiced at kamar-taj and spent time with stephen. he had been a wealth of knowledge and was more than happy to assist you in whatever areas you needed a bit more help with—primarily the spell aspect of the mystic arts. he was the smartest person you had ever met and you couldn’t think of a more suitable teacher… but you weren’t about to tell him that, his ego was inflated enough as it is.

as for you, shields, ropes, and portals were a piece of cake, barely requiring any thought or concentration; some spells here and there were pretty easy to grasp as well, but for the most part, remembering everything and the very nature of magic itself was challenging for you to wrap your brain around. you had grown up on order, discipline, and facts; fear, precision, and malleability. something as mind-bending and otherworldly like the mystic arts was no easy task, and you struggled quite a bit, especially with the stacks upon stacks of endless spell books and ancient texts documenting the very history of magic itself—yeah, it was a lot. but lucky for you, doctor stephen strange was practically at your beck and call. 

maybe not so lucky, actually. the more time you spent with the sorcerer, the more you fell for him each and every day. your crush hadn’t dissipated, no matter how hard you tried to tamp it down and deny how you felt. sure, you had threatened him a few months ago that you couldn’t stand him and that you would essentially require him to prove his love for you before you even thought of giving him the time of day, but now… it had only been a few extra weeks and you felt like a lovesick puppy, it was ludicrous. never in your life had you felt so helpless or vulnerable. it went against every rule and law that had been engrained in you at such a young age: do not form attachments, love makes you weak, allow yourself to fall victim to your emotions and your life will be at risk.

every instinct within you screamed and raged at you to cut it off with him—even though nothing had really happened as of yet anyway—but you just couldn’t stop. you felt at home at the sanctum, so unlike the familiarity of the compound. sure, that had felt like a home of sorts, but that was before this—your life with stephen and america and wong. the compound had still felt like work, cold and isolated and rigid. the sanctum, on the other hand, was warm and comforting and truly felt like a home that was filled with something that could almost be akin to a family. it was ridiculous, of course, enabling yourself to feel this way—encouraging it, even—but you simply couldn’t help yourself. you really, really loved it here. 

stephen had given you your own room and showed you some spells that would help you redecorate however you so wished, it was quite a lot of fun, actually. you had asked america to help you design everything: your color scheme, if you should have a canopy bed or a four-poster; if drapes would look better or if it might be a fun change to use fairy lights along the window frame. she had been a great deal of help, even adding an array of knickknacks and decorations from her own room to share a bit of her personal style to the space. it was nice, and you had felt more safe and comfortable and relaxed than you had ever felt in your entire life. 

you weren’t sure what to do or how to process anything. stephen had gifted you with the knowledge of this peculiar and underlying ability of yours, assisting you in honing your skills with each passing day, and provided you with a home and family to call your own—well, he hadn’t explicitly said he thought of you as family, and you were far too embarrassed to even bring anything of the sort up to him, but still, you thought of it as such and you were grateful. you didn’t think you would ever be able to repay him for what he had done for you. in a way, the ridiculous wizard in his funny little red cloak had saved you.

oh, god. you were turning into a giant sap.

you shook the thoughts from your head and returned to training. a much needed break had been spent admiring the view from the other end of the courtyard and sipping from your bottle of water. now, it was back to work.

before you could even turn around to make the trek over to your training mat, a familiar gravelly voice spoke from behind you.

“word around kamar-taj is that i have a girlfriend. you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

your eyes widened as you faced stephen. all right, who spilled the fucking beans? “what?” you played along innocently. “no! who would’ve started a rumor like that?”

“what makes you think it’s a rumor?”

“because you’re not dating anyone.”

“i’m not?” he asked smugly.

“…no?” you avoided his gaze as you glanced across the courtyard, trying to meet nina’s eyes in a not-so-subtle attempt at getting you out of this situation. she just laughed and turned back to malachi as they practiced new fighting positions. 

thanks a lot, buddy.

suddenly a broad chest appeared in front of you, blocking your view of nina or any other distraction. stephen leaned down until you were looking back at him again. “nothing to say?” he added with a sly grin. 

“uh… who’s the lucky girl?”

he shook his head as a chuckle bubbled up his throat. “i don’t know… you tell me.”

you blinked. “…tell you what?”

“come on. i know it was you, sweetheart.”

there was that damn pet name again. while it had seemed like a mere slip-up the first time the term passed his lips, now it felt intentional, almost genuine.

shit. maybe playing dumb wasn’t your best option. “that obvious, huh?” you replied with a grimace.

“if anything, i’m flattered. never thought i’d actually get to this point, yet here you are declaring your love for me all throughout kamar-taj.”

“woah,” you said, holding up your hands, “pump the breaks there, lover boy. i never told anyone it was me. i just informed someone that you weren’t single, that’s all.”

“and why would you do that, pray tell?”

“all right, shakespeare,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “felicity was talking to me about possibly asking you out and i said you had a girlfriend, okay?”

“you’re still not answering the question, sweetheart. i want to know why.”

your eyes narrowed. “you’re getting awfully comfortable with that ‘sweetheart,’ aren’t you, pal?”

stephen’s face fell. “do you want me to stop?”

“…i didn’t say that.”

his lips twitched. “very well. i’ll end the interrogation for now. how about we head home for dinner?”

“yeah, okay.”

“what would you like tonight?” he asked gently as he led you to the farthest corner of the courtyard, raising an expectant hand as if asking you to portal the two of you back to the sanctum.

you did so with ease, slipping your very own sling ring onto your index and middle fingers before flicking your wrist in a circular motion that coaxed the telltale golden sparks into view. you noticed in stunned silence as stephen’s face lit up as you did so, pure elation and pride settling onto his features at your progress. you supposed practice did make perfect because you somehow managed to move up to the top of your class of fellow apprentices, creating a portal at a greater speed than any of the other students.

you didn’t know if it truly did come naturally to you, or if there was still some lingering component of your training from the red room that urged you to prove yourself, to be the best of the best as a means of survival. 

your hand dropped back to your side as the memories jumped to the forefront of your mind; you had been doing so well of pushing that part of existence away, burying it so far within yourself that you couldn’t stumble upon it at the worst of times or when you least expected it—like right now. god, when was this ever going to end?

a careful hand rested on your shoulder and you flinched away before grabbing said hand and twisting it away from you.

stephen’s sharp gasp snapped you from your thoughts and you quickly jumped back, guilt creeping up your throat until you were choking on it. 

you clapped a hand over your mouth. “shit, shit. i’m so sorry, doc. are you all right?”

his cerulean eyes were searching yours, quizzical and assessing. “i’m fine, sweetheart. are you all right? where did you go just now?”

you felt tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and blinked enough times to clear them away. forcing the memories and guilt down, you cleared your throat and readjusted the proverbial mask you wore when your thoughts became too overwhelming, and turned to face stephen. “sorry, nothing. i’m fine. let’s just go back to the sanctum, i’m starving and you stink.” you pushed forward and stepped through the sizzling portal and left a worried stephen to follow after you.

once you entered the sanctum, you swiftly escaped to the privacy of your bedroom, ridding yourself of your burgundy robes and stepping into the steaming shower that you had started with a simple wave of your hand—pretty convenient, if you did say so yourself. 

you went through the mind-numbing motions of washing your hair and lathering your body in suds of lavender and chamomile wash, a timeless fix to stress and worry, the scent of it immediately calming your nerves and allowing you to breathe again. it had been natasha’s go-to after long and arduous training sessions back at the compound. 

fuck, now you were thinking about her now. what was with you today? first, it was sappy thoughts about stephen, then memories of the red room, and now mourning over nat’s death again. when would this end? you were so tired of being sad all the time. you thought you were doing a pretty decent job of hiding just how awful you felt at times, and yet, that niggling feeling of hopelessness and loss reared its ugly head whenever you were alone. what? you suddenly couldn’t take a shower without taking a torturous walk down memory lane?

you released a weary sigh that caught in your throat before shutting off the water and wiping the wetness from your face, not knowing if it was purely from the showerhead or from your tears that had gotten mixed in. 

grabbing a towel from the rack, you murmured a soft heating spell beneath your breath that provided immediate warmth to the fabric, and then wrapped it around yourself, feeling slightly better now that you had washed away the sweat and memories of the last few moments. you ran another towel through your hair and then utilized the drying spell stephen had mentioned to you previously. honestly, this magic thing was a real time saver.

you dressed in casual clothes, just a simple t-shirt and loose cotton pants that flared around your ankles. it was a nice change to leave the tight-fitted material of your widow suit and training garb tucket away in the closet and wear something comfortable while you unwound for the evening. 

slipping into a pair of fuzzy socks america had given you that matched her own, you made your way down the massive staircase and entered the kitchen to find stephen hunched over the stove. the comforting scent of olive oil, garlic, and caramelized onion wafted throughout the room and brought a smile to your face. it seemed the sorcerer had been quite busy since you had parted ways upon returning to the sanctum.

you eyed his own clothing: a pair of dark sweatpants and cotton shirt layered with a soft cardigan. he looked warm and cozy… and kind of—no, stop that.

“huh,” you mused aloud. “i think this is the first time i’ve seen you without your wizard costume, doc.”

stephen snorted before turning around to face you, a teasing grin pulled at his lips that was bordered by a neatly-trimmed goatee. he must have taken his own shower as well because he looked fresh and clean and smelled faintly of citrus. 

“i’m not a wizard, y/n, and neither are you. you know that.”

you waved a dismissive hand. “yeah, yeah. tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to.”

he shook his head in playful exasperation before smiling softly. “how are you feeling?”

you gulped. why did he have to bring up your reaction from earlier? why was the man so infuriatingly perceptive? “fine.”

“are you lying to me?”

“…no.”

“y/n,” he pleaded, “talk to me. what happened earlier?”

“nothing. like i said, i’m fine.”

he eyed you closely, his brows pinching slightly in a probing sort of way, like he had x-ray vision and could see right through you, but then he blinked and schooled his features back into a pleasant expression. “if you insist.”

“i do,” you said, suddenly feeling hot and desperately needing to change the subject. “uh, hey. while i’m staying here, is there anything you want me to help out with? like cleaning or chores or something?”

he looked at you with an incredulous expression. “not really, no. why would you do that?”

you shrugged. “i just… don’t want to seem like a freeloader or anything.”

“that’s not how i see our arrangement, y/n,” he said, tone turning soft. “you don’t need to earn your keep to stay here. america and i like having you around, and we’re both happy that you’re learning the mystic arts in the process. i want you to feel at home here, okay? you don’t need to prove yourself, especially not to me.”

“okay,” you agreed quietly. 

“but, if you’re absolutely dying to do something, you could help me cook dinner? i could show you some spells that can help speed up the process, if you’d like?”

“i’m really not a very good cook,” you said. “i might accidentally burn down the kitchen.”

he chuckled warmly. “it’s all right, i’m pretty disastrous myself. that’s what the magic is for, it’ll help.” he beckoned you forward with a gentle motion and you hesitantly stepped further into the kitchen until you stood by his side at the stove. “here, i’ll show you, yeah?”

you nodded. “okay, sure.”

as stephen laid out a large cookbook on the countertop, you felt a soft pressure around your waist. you looked down to see the familiar red cloak that was usually displayed across stephen’s shoulders now tied around your form in a makeshift apron.  

a surprised laugh bubbled up your throat. “what’s this about?” you asked as you brushed down the fabric in a gentle sweeping motion.

stephen eyed you with an almost awed expression donning his features. “he likes you.”

“what?”

“the cloak of levitation, that’s what it is,” he said. “i think he likes you. he’s never really gone to anyone else unless they were in need of saving.”

“oh, like when we were on that mission together with the gross monster-things?”

he chuckled. “yes, exactly like that.”

suddenly, a section of the cloak lifted to rest against your cheek in an almost human-like gesture. “it’s nice to meet you, too,” you said to the sentient fabric, a giddy smile pulling at your lips. what an odd thing this whole magic world was. it was full of surprises and you were never truly bored.

“mmm, what smells good?” america chimed in from the doorway.

the two of you turned to the teen as she took a seat at the counter. “chef strange here is teaching me how to make spaghetti,” you answered with a teasing grin as stephen leaned over to bump your shoulder playfully.

america watched with a knowing look in her dark brown eyes. 

before long, dinner was ready and plates of spaghetti and stacks of fragrant garlic bread floated along the countertop to land on individual plates for you, stephen, and america.

“where’s wong?” america asked as she dug into her plate, the corner of her mouth dripping with tomato sauce. you handed her a napkin and she took it gratefully.

“performing some ‘higher duties’ at kamar-taj,” stephen replied. “won’t be back ‘til late.”

“oh, should we save a plate for him?” 

stephen turned to you from his seat on the left. “yeah, i think he’d appreciate that,” he said softly. 

you smiled in response and returned to your plate, twirling a forkful of noodles into your mouth. “god, that’s good,” you said as the flavors swirled around your tongue.

“never had spaghetti either?” america asked, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone.

you shook your head and offered her a comforting smile. “but it’s okay, i’m glad i could try it for the first time with you.”

her frown morphed into a smile that mirrored your own and the two of you dug in. you felt stephen’s eyes on you—he always seemed to be watching you in moments like these when you shared tiny fragments of your past—but he didn’t say anything in return, instead, he continued eating in silence.

the following morning, you awoke to the scent of freshly-brewed coffee, cinnamon, and maple syrup along with faint sounds of tinkering coming from the kitchen. geez, that man sure had a knack for cooking at all times of the day. when he wasn’t acting as master of the new york sanctum, he was either in the kitchen or the library. maybe he should think about switching professions…

you stretched your arms above your head, the slight chill of the air in your room kissing your skin as it peeked out from the warmth of your blankets. rising from bed you went about your daily routine of brushing your teeth, tying your hair back in an intricate braided bun that yelena had shown you, and dressed yourself in casual clothes before you needed to head off to kamar-taj for the afternoon. this morning, however, would be dedicated to pouring over endless spell books in the library. oh, joy.

before leaving your room, you briefly checked your reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall, setting a few stray hairs into place, until you caught yourself. what the hell were you doing? really, checking your appearance before going downstairs to see your crush? how old were you, twelve?

you groaned to yourself and then opened your door to walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

“well, well,” you greeted. “what has the chef prepared for us today?”

you heard stephen’s deep chuckle from where he stood at the stove, shivering a bit at the sound as you sat down at the counter with your elbows resting on the cool surface. 

“good morning to you, too,” he said. “how did you sleep?”

“like a baby.”

“that’s good to hear,”  he replied before turning to face you, and you noticed how a section of his hair curled onto his forehead in the way that you liked, but would never voice aloud. it made him look younger and more carefree, so unlike the slicked-back style he wore on more serious occasions. as for right now, however, he seemed completely relaxed and unguarded as he shared his morning with you. 

a kind smile tugged at his lips in a way that reached his eyes, lighting up his face in a welcoming glow—what the hell? when did you turn so soft all of a sudden? 

“you look really pretty today,” stephen said quietly.

oh. you bit your lip as heat climbed up your neck and into your cheeks. god, you were never going to get used to his compliments. he was giving them out to you like they were candy. 

“thanks,” you breathed, looking down at the counter to hide your blush.

he cleared his throat awkwardly before moving about the kitchen again. a cup of steaming coffee slid in front of you and you quickly looked up to find stephen now turned back to the stove as if he hadn’t just given you your exact coffee order.

you took a hesitant sip and hummed happily at the familiar taste, and you wondered when he had learned how you took yours without having to say anything. you couldn’t recall ever mentioning it to him… was there a spell for that? could he read it on you or something?

without another word, stephen quietly plated up something that looked like soggy bread onto three plates and placed them along the counter.

america then bolted into the room as if summoned and took her usual seat next to you. “ugh yes! french toast,” she cheered.

“french toast?” you asked confused. “what makes it french?”

the teen tilted her head in thought, brows knitted together before she said, “i’m not sure… but it tastes really good. try it!”

stephen’s soft chuckle soon followed after your brief discussion of the origins of french toast. he watched in silent amusement as you poured maple syrup on top of your stack and cut the soggy bread into bite-sized pieces, lifting a forkful to your mouth and moaning softly. “wow.”

“wow?” he asked.

“yeah, wow,” you repeated. “you sure you weren’t a world-famous chef in your past life or something? is there a cooking whiz variant of you out there somewhere?”

suddenly, a deep and boisterous laugh filled the kitchen as stephen hunched over his plate. his eyes crinkled at the corners as elation painted his features. you had never heard him laugh like that before, like there was nothing holding him back, no reservations or restrictions—just pure joy. it sounded really, really nice, actually, and you couldn’t help but giggle yourself with america joining in soon after until all three of you were nothing but fits of loud, ridiculous laughter.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this happy or carefree. what a pleasant change, you thought. 

a throat cleared from the doorway and you turned to find wong entering the kitchen with an arched brow rising on his forehead. “what’s so funny in here?”

“stephen and y/n are hilarious,” america choked out, the remnants of her laughter still spilling from her lips. “want some breakfast, wong?”

he assessed the three of you more closely before moving toward the stove and preparing himself a plate in awkward silence. 

stephen snorted to himself but it was loud enough for you to hear so you kicked him under the table to which he retaliated by bumping your shoulder and you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the new laugh that was fighting its way up your throat. 

another sound of wong clearing his throat. “shouldn’t you be in the library studying?” he asked carefully, eyes flitting back and forth between all three of you. 

both you and stephen turned to him with matching expressions of pure innocence. “most definitely,” stephen responded coolly but you could still hear a hint of his usual snarkiness in his voice. “just making sure we’re properly nourished and fueled for our long day ahead. isn’t that right, apprentice y/n?”

you set your fork down on your plate as you played along. “oh absolutely, master strange. i can’t wait to see what mystical knowledge i’ll have the pleasure of learning today.”

america snorted into her orange juice, stephen pressed his lips together, and wong just shook his head in exasperation. “you two are nothing but trouble.” he then made his way out the door but offered a polite “thank you for breakfast” before exiting completely.

the three of you burst out into laughter again at how ridiculous the situation was and you clutched your side as your muscles pinched as if they were unfamiliar with this level of happiness you were feeling. 

“you almost got me into trouble with the sorcerer supreme!” you exclaimed before playfully shoving stephen in the chest but he swiftly clasped your hand in his and held it there firmly.

your eyes widened as he glanced down at you, feeling suddenly tense and uneasy at his close proximity, like you might jump out of your skin or kiss him—what?—but that was quickly shoved aside as your primary focus settled on the fact that stephen’s heart was pounding beneath your palm. was he affected by this just as much as you were? you swallowed nervously, not knowing what to do or say or look at. 

you didn’t have to worry about that for much longer as the silence was suddenly interrupted by america burping rather loudly.

“oops,” she said meekly. “where are my manners? so sorry,” and then she grabbed her plate and walked it to the sink before leaving the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on her face.

you cleared your throat before pulling away from stephen and rising from your chair. “so,” you started as if the last few moments hadn’t happened, “time for today’s lesson, yeah?”

you poured over a collection of spell books and ancient texts, your eyes growing blurry as you scanned the pages in great detail. it wasn’t the various languages that troubled you, but the very concept of magic and the mystic arts as a whole. 

sure, you had seen a lot of oddities in your life, especially after joining the avengers, but the fact that magic actually existed was the one thing that continued to boggle your mind. 

your head dropped into your hands as you released a defeated groan. how were you possibly going to become a sorcerer if you didn’t fully believe in the possibilities and complexities of magic? this was hopeless. 

“having a bit of trouble, are we?”

you lifted your head to see stephen re-enter the library with another cup of coffee in his hand and more overwhelming stacks of books trailing behind him, his signature smirk already pulling at his lips. 

“oh, bite me,” you shot back. 

his chuckle echoed throughout the room as he took a seat across from you, books fluttering down to the table.

“this is hopeless, doc,” you voiced aloud. “how am i going to remember all of this?”

he tsked softly. “that doesn’t sound like the tenacious girl i know.”

your eyes narrowed at him. “yeah, well, not everyone can have a photographic memory like you, asshole.”

his only response was a mischievous pull to his lips before golden sparks sizzled into view beside him. you watched in silence, blowing on your coffee before taking a careful sip as he reached through the portal and pulled out another book from somewhere deep within the endless library. 

“another one?” you groaned. 

his lips twitched. “i think this one might help alter your perspective a bit.”

from there, the two of you poured over more and more tomes of endless knowledge for hours until your brain felt like it might turn to mush. you lowered your head to the table and let out an exhausted groan. “enough of this, doc. i can’t feel my brain right now.”

“nobody can feel their brain, y/n,” he replied with a snort. 

“yeah, yeah. whatever, mister neurosurgeon genius.”

he placed a light hand on your back in some semblance of comfort, and it did actually feel pretty nice to feel his warm touch against you. “why don’t you take a break for a bit before we head to kamar-taj this afternoon?”

“good idea,” you said sarcastically. “wouldn’t want my brain to forget how to move my muscles after you bludgeoned it to death!”

“don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart. this is nothing compared to what you’ll continue to learn in the future.”

“oh great,” you deadpanned.

“rest,” he insisted. “i’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

the two of you were stood across from each other in the courtyard, going about your daily training session together and briefly discussing potential modes of attack in varying situations, calling upon helpful spells and shields to assist you along the way. the addition of magic to your previous training was really quite useful and provided you with a sense of power and confidence you didn’t know you could achieve. sure, you had always been confident in the physical aspect of fighting and surviving, but there was something about the magic running through your veins that increased this ability tenfold. you felt unstoppable.

as you continued to grow in your abilities, you gradually noticed that your magic began to adjust and evolve, incorporating pieces of you into each aspect of your magic. today in particular as you trained one-on-one with stephen, you noticed an unusual pattern start to weave itself into your shields that you had never seen before now… it almost had the appearance of spiderwebs. 

“incredible,” stephen breathed. 

“what? what’s going on?” you asked, confusion swirling within you as your hands dropped back down to your sides.

“your magic is evolving, like it’s communicating with you. i—i’ve never seen anything like it.”

you frowned. “really? that’s odd.”

stephen hummed in thought as he studied you rather closely, a crease forming between his dark brows. “well, i suppose i’m not surprised.”

“not sure if i should feel offended or flattered by that.”

he snorted softly. “it was intended to be a compliment, sweetheart. what i meant,” he said, voice lowering, “is that you’re special and that you’ve already impressed me in more ways than one, so it’s no surprise that you can do something so spectacular and unheard of like that.”

“oh.”

“not sure what to say?” he asked amusedly. “have i rendered you speechless?”

you rolled your eyes in an overly exaggerated attempt to hide just how affected you were by his compliment. the man seemed to have an unlimited supply of those for you as of late. stupid wizard with his stupid compliments and his stupid voice.

“whatever,” you huffed. “shouldn’t we move on to something else? more combat training, perhaps? i promise i’ll go easy on you this time,” you added with a smirk. “wouldn’t want you to throw your back out, old man.”

“funny,” he deadpanned. “i think we’re done for today, actually. let’s head back, yeah?”

a few days later, you received a ping on your phone requesting your presence back at the compound. a new mission arose and they required your assistance. 

you weren’t sure how to feel about that, to be quite honest. sure, you were more than happy to see yelena again and catch up in person, and of course, sam and bucky would be loads of fun to be around, but you almost dreaded the thought of being away from the sanctum—away from the home you had been welcomed into here with stephen and america. 

for god’s sake, y/n, you scolded yourself. you’re not going to be away forever, it’ll just be for a week at most. 

you packed a bag of your essentials before descending the staircase and announcing your upcoming absence to stephen and america over breakfast, the two of them offering genuine goodbyes as you later opened a portal back to the compound. it felt different this time, creating a portal for yourself rather than stephen doing it for you like those times before. you smiled to yourself at the memory of those days and how far you’ve come since then.

standing in the entryway of the sanctum, you looked around you at all of the antiquated knickknacks and relics and oddities sprinkled about, already feeling a bout of homesickness settle in your stomach. why did it feel like this was goodbye? had you really developed such a close relationship with your friends here and the home that they had offered you? especially over such a short amount of time, would it really hurt to be away for more than a few days?

you pressed your lips together in a forced smile as you looked at the two of them standing together rather morosely. god, what a depressing bunch you all were. “guess this is goodbye for now, huh?” you said in a teasing tone, but it sounded rather bland, even to you.

“i’m going to miss you,” america pouted. “don’t stay away for too long.”

“i won’t,” you replied, leaning forward to rub your knuckles into her hair. “i could never stay away from you, kiddo.”

she offered a smile in return and lifted her pinky up to you. “promise?”

you nodded as you linked your pinky around hers. “promise.”

stephen watched the two of you in silence, never saying a word but you felt the heaviness of his gaze on you as you left this part of your world behind.

the first few nights at the compound were fine. the mission was going exceptionally well and everything had gone as expected. you and yelena had caught up in your brief moments of free time over old movies and takeout; sam and bucky shot insults back and forth as usual, and you found yourself laughing at their antics as their boisterous arguments filled the kitchen—and yet… something felt like it was missing. 

you were currently tucked away in your room at the compound, tossing and turning with discomfort at the unfamiliar feeling of your bed. well, it didn’t used to feel unfamiliar to you, you had just grown used to something different—better—over time. you missed your bed and your room at the sanctum, america and stephen, and the food he would cook for you, showing you how to make your favorites and some new dishes you had never tried before.

you knew it sounded ridiculous but you almost… missed him. you missed his stupid sense of humor and the way he studied with you and helped you better understand the mystic arts. you were almost tempted to text him but had to hold yourself back. it wouldn’t be that much longer until you could return to the sanctum; the mission was close to being complete and you had already documented most of the details in your report anyway, so it wouldn’t take long to finish. but still… you actually really, truly missed him. you tapped anxiously at your thigh, weighing your different options.

“oh, fuck it,” you said as you reached for your phone on the nightstand and scrolled down to his contact name. it had been a while since the two of you had texted each other, what with the rift between you and then after you started living with him, there was no need for it. but now… being away from him for even less than a week was messing with your head and you just wanted to talk to him. you would much rather see him or hear the familiar baritone of his voice that you oftentimes felt more than heard instead of through the cold and detached words on a screen, but you didn’t want to seem too desperate or clingy. 

hi, you texted lamely and immediately felt like an idiot once you hit send, mentally smacking your forehead. that was really what you chose to start with?

it turned out that stephen didn’t seem to have a problem with your pathetic attempt at texting, as he quickly sent back, miss me?

you could practically hear the satisfied smirk in his text and rolled your eyes as you started to type out a snarky response before changing your mind, deciding to be open with him for a change. he had been far more open with his feelings toward you than you had with him, and it was probably time you reciprocated. i do, you responded. 

there was a pause, the three dots popping up on the screen and then disappearing in the next moment. you felt so stupid, and you probably did seem just as desperate and clingy as you were hoping not to.

your fingers danced over the keyboard in a quick attempt to backtrack your response, but then his incoming text slid onto the screen before you could hit send. 

can i come see you?

please.

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[angelamajiki]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Fatgum x Female! Sidekick! Reader

CW: noncon, voyeurism, bell bulge, size kink, praise kink, breeding, cunninglingus, bondage, dumbification

AN: This is a piece for Fern’s 1k Event! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ! Read the intro and first piece before reading this one! Ty <3 P.S. the italicized quotes are Nighteye’s and reader prior convo

Gluttony: The Second Circle of Dante’s Inferno

“What I like about gluttony,' a bishop I knew used to say, 'is that it doesn't hurt anyone else.'”

You hadn’t the faith to believe him when he said it.

It was hard to call the exchanges that occurred between the two of you a conversation. More or less, he spoke the truth of your reality and you simply didn’t have the gall to question it.

The elevator he thrust you into was cold and unnerving despite the cheesy jazz music that thankfully filled the void of silence you were sure would have deafened you if it prolonged itself. It gave you time to think on his words, more so than you would have liked to.

“The flesh endures the storms of the present alone; the mind, those of the past and future as well as the present. Gluttony is a lust of the mind. It is a poison that is all-consuming of the senses.”

Gluttony was the next trial, so it seemed. Lord knows what lies ahead for you, leaving you foolishly clutching to the notion that this circle couldn’t possibly be worse than the last.

The abrupt halt to the elevator allows the gravity of the situation to sink in fully. The inescapable horror was creeping in through the crack in the door, especially when it opened to find a man waiting for you.

And what a man he was, standing at nearly eight feet.

“Just the gal I was lookin’ for! I was worried my favorite lil sidekick had run off right after quitin’ time.”

An enormous, gloved hand clapped down on your shoulder, lingering far longer than you would have liked.

“Follow me to my office, yeah? I got something I wanna discuss with ya.”

And just like that, the string of fate slipped around your neck like a noose and pulled you along down the empty hallway, save for you, the man, and the numerous amounts of plaques, awards, and other celebratory memorabilia decorating the agency halls.

Judging by the pictures you saw yourself in, you were a hero of sorts, working alongside the unnamed man and two others you had yet to meet. Hopefully, your paths would never cross.

Even inside his office, you could see the remnants of what your life would be in this circle of hell. Whoever was with you seemed to be very fond of you, given the number of photographs and newspaper clippings adorning his desk and walls of the office.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and not just your fantastic work as a hero. Been thinking about what a fine woman you’ve grown to be.”

Those large hands found your shoulders again, stroking and rubbing to set you at ease in his grasp.

“Strong.”

One dipped down to your waist.

“Sweet.”

The other onto your arm.

“Everything a man like me needs. You sure fill my appetite in more than one way.”

Finally, the rest on your hips, thumbing circles into the soft flesh he took purchase in there.

Ah, so this was the glutton in question.

“I’m not sure I’m following what you mean.”

Just play dumb, maybe this circle will have mercy on you.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, honey. There’s no reason to get all shy on me; I promise I don’t bite-”

His hand slid up to your neck, resting comfortably while enveloping the entirety of it with just his palm.

“Unless you ask for it.”

The whisper in his voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you frozen in his grasp. It was undeniable that you would never beat him, no matter what your power may be in this world. Hell, if you even had one, how certain were you that you could use it?

Your options were far and few between, but laying down and taking it like some pathetic little bitch was not going to be an option for you. Not here, not now.

The shrill sound of your own voice even hurt your own ears as you cried for help, thrashing wildly in the grip of the man.

Your cries for help should have been chosen more carefully, seeing as when your two apparent saviors sped into the room, they opted to help the man pin you down even further.

“Damn, she’s being a feisty little thing-”

“Fatgum, let go of her neck! You’re gonna hurt her.”

“S-Should we really be doing this?”

And so you were left bound against the top of the desk, shrouded in a swarth of tentacles pinning your legs open and your hands above your head.

“Thank you, boys. Didn’t realize she would cause such a stir.”

So Fatgum was his name, or so it appeared to be an alias of some sorts.

“Fatgum, please-”

His smile was sickeningly sweet as he towered over you.

“Awe, no need for formalities with me, sugar plum. Just call me Tai, yeah?”

The two other men stood beside you, watching their boss closely as he dealt with you.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.”

Damn that cursed man for sending you down here in that goddamn elevator. This journey alone made it nearly impossible to keep this strength to see your mother again alive.

“Tai, please. I don’t-” His hearty laugh cut you off. “Begging already, sugar? By the fight you put up, I’d almost thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I don’t!” You protested, squirming in your slimy bonds before they tightened uncomfortably around you.

“Don’t yell at him like that. It's unbecoming of you.”

The raven-haired man snapped at you, looking down with a blush seared across his face and up to his ears.

“Relax, Tamaki. She just needs a reminder of who she belongs, ain’t that right? But, he’s right, I can't have you mouthing off like that, now can I?”

Slipping his black mask off his eyes, Tai fastened it around your mouth and head, loosely gagging you.

“Yeah, you belong to us!”

It was the redhead’s turn to pipe up before Tai shushed the pair of men.

“Now, now, I know you’re fond of our sweet little sidekick here, but this?”

He clapped a hand over still clothed pussy, rubbing gently.

“This here is mine; you boys can’t have this. But you’re more than welcome to stay and watch as I indulge myself.”

You whined into the gag, looking at him with teary eyes as he ripped a hole in your bottoms and panties.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears, honeybun. You're safe with me, okay? I’m gonna take such good care of my little sweetheart, don’t you worry about a thing.”

His large fingers stroked over your clit slowly and tenderly, kissing your salty tears away as he shushed you with praise and loving words. Thumbing your clit, he pushed his middle fingers into you at a slow pace, grinning softly when you bit back a moan.

“Come on now, girl. We wanna hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel, ain’t that right, boys?”

Their collective groans of pleasure gave you all the response you needed; those sick fucks were getting off on you being harassed by your boss.

His finger sped up in pace, making you squeal once he curled his finger in an upwards motion. “Can’t wait to hear what you’ll sound like on my cock, sweet girl. Gonna sing us a nice song?”

Another finger slipped in as his free hand pawed at your tits, fondling and groping as he finger fucked you a new sense of vigor.

“As much as I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart, I’m just itching to get inside you and feel that pretty cunt around me. You understand, don’t you? I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

His lips continued to litter your skin in kisses to your face, licking at the tears that fell from your eyes when he added a third finger into your tight, wet hole.

“Mhm, you won’t mind if I have a taste, do ya?”

You could only whine in response.

“Of course you don’t, my good girl never says no to me.”

A hot mouth sealed itself around your clit as three fingers pumped in and out of you steadily, hitting all the right spots repeatedly. You squealed and shook in your binds, feeling your orgasm approaching hard and fast with the aid of his tongue lapping and suckling at you.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

That was all you needed to feel yourself reach that blinding peak, sobbing and writhing as he rode out your ecstasy. His tongue continued to work at you far after you were finished, overestimating you without a care in the world. Your whines of protest fell on deaf ears as he just pulled your body closer to his face.

“Taste so good, sweetheart. I’ll stop when I’m finished with my meal, y’understand? This is my pussy, and I’ll do what I want with it.”

Leaving you twitching and sobbing, Tai finally pulled away and stood up, pulling his cock out and stroking it above you.

“Can’t wait to breed my pussy. Gonna make you my cute little cream puff.”

Both of his massive hands circled around you waist, pulling you flush against him as he sank all the way into your tight heat. The stretch of his girth was quite nearly unbearable as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, rubbing the small bulge in your belly with fondness while peering down at you.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. I knew you’d be so good for me. Yer takin’ me so well.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he slowly pulled out, leaving your legs twitching wildly when his thumb found its way back to your clit before he sank back in all the way. You could snark about how courteous it was of him to allow you to adjust, but the thread of consciousness was hard to grasp onto as he completely dominated your mind with numbing pleasure.

“You were made to take my cock, sweet thing. Let me give you a treat for bein’ so obedient for me.”

His praise went straight to your gut, as much as you hated to admit it, leaving you feeling pliable and soft under his demanding touch. Those hands around your waist pulled at your body, bringing you back and forth on his cock like you were a goddamn fleshlight.

“Ah, ” he grunted. “I don't think I can hold back much longer; you’ll let me be selfish, won’t ya?”

With that, all sense of tenderness and gentleness was thrown out the window as he picked you up from the desk, holding you against his chest as he jackhammered into you with an impossible pace of his hips.

“Shit! Squeezing me so tight, bein’ such a good little fucktoy for me.”

The sounds of skin slapping and the collective sounds of pleasure rang heavy in the room as he used and abused your throbbing pussy, feeling his grip on you tighten when he was reaching his own high.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum, gonna stuff my pussy nice and full!”

The bulge on your stomach grew even more as he came, stuffing you to the hilt with his cum and his cock. Ropes of it leaked out of your hole, even as he stayed inside you, panting and kissing at your sweaty forehead.

“Gave ‘em a good show, didn’t we, sweetheart? Say thank you, boys.”

Their thanks were mumbled out as they too had exhausted themselves just from the display of your pleasure. Tamaki’s tentacles retracted themselves from you, allowing you to stretch and return feeling to your arms and legs.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. We’re - hey, are you with me? I’m gonna clean you up and take you back home with me, okay? No more hero nonsense for you, ya hear me? All you need to do from now on is stay home and keep that pussy warm for me.”

Like hell you were going to stay for another damned second in this realm, not after being violated so horrifically.

“O-Okay.”

Play it cool, play it cool.

“Let me go to the bathroom, then.” You swallowed, hoping to fool the men. “A-And I’ll get my change of clothes and we can go home.”

You didn’t wait for a response, hobbling out of the office before making a break down the hall for the elevator. Their shouts echoed off the hallway walls as you ran with all your strength left back into the safety of the elevator, leaving them running after you before the door shut on them.

“Gluttony is a great fault; but we do not necessarily dislike a glutton. We only dislike the glutton when he becomes a gourmet-that is, we only dislike him when he not only wants the best for himself, but knows what is best for other people.”

— tagging: @sightoru @anarchicmartyr @natsuonii @whumperooni @viixens @lunar-nebula @trafalgar-temptress

[angstyaches]

For a fluff request, maybe something soft where Charlie can indulge in his kink? Idk that just sounds kinda sweet.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for requesting this. There are several aspects to Charlie’s kink, so I hope you’re interested in what I decided to focus on for this!

This will be my last story of 2022, so the fact that it's disgustingly self-indulgent and niche is kind of perfect, really.

CW: kink exploration, lots of consent checking, straddling, body kissing, touch/affection starvation.

Not “typical” NS*W content, but y’know. We’re not quite typical around here, are we? So, minors, I'm especially pleading with you not to interact with this one.

Note: Shayne and Charlie take their physical relationship very slowly, and I didn’t intend for this to be “leading anywhere” other than kissing, but if you want to have different thoughts about it, I guess I can’t stop you lol 

___ 

“Hi.” Charlie didn’t lift his head or look away from his laptop. He seemed to be in the middle of typing a breakthrough sentence. The fact that he called out at all made Shayne wince, though.  

Shayne let out a little groan as he stretched across the bed. He was good at sneaking, but Charlie had gotten better at sensing when he was nearby, even with his back turned and his attention focused on something else.  

“I didn’t come in here to distract you,” Shayne muttered. He lay diagonally across the bed on his back, hooking both his arms behind his head. “I swear.”  

“Aw. Did you get lonely?”  

Shayne winced as he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t have it in him to be defensive, or sarcastic, or tough. “Mmm.”  

Charlie got up from the chair and came over to the edge of the bed. At first, Shayne thought he was going to just stand there and look down at him, maybe run his fingers through Shayne’s hair a bit, but instead, Charlie draped himself across the mattress, too. He matched the jagged angle at which Shayne had flopped down, but instead of his back, Charlie lay on his belly.  

Shayne felt like he should protest; he should apologise for distracting his boyfriend from his studies. Sorry, love. I’ll go back downstairs and leave you to it. But it was like his jaw had locked up, because he couldn’t bring himself to say anything of the sort.  

Charlie’s bright blue eyes still seemed a little unfocused as he examined Shayne’s face, as though he’d been concentrating on his studies for so long that he’d forgotten how to observe anything else.  

“Sorry I’ve been so busy,” he said gently.  

“Nah, it’s… not your fault.”  

Shayne had been about to say it was okay, but he knew that this didn’t feel okay to either of them. Charlie spent all week at college, and every second weekend at his parents’; that left four days out of each month that they could properly spend together, and while Charlie’s coursework was important, it stung a bit when it ate into their time.   

And on top of that, Charlie must have been starting to feel the toll of never settling in one place for longer than a couple of days at a time. The thought of Charlie overworking himself sent a shudder all the way into Shayne’s core.  

“I know it’s not,” Charlie smiled, “but I’d much rather be spending my free time with you.”  

Shayne tilted his head slightly, his eyes wandering back towards the desk where Charlie had set up his laptop and library books. He could at least try to keep Charlie’s mind focused on his task while they were laying there together. He seemed to have a web page full of text occupying one half of the screen, and a Word documents of bullet points open on the other.  

“What are you working on?” he asked, looking at Charlie again.  

“Mid-term essay.”  

Shayne raised an eyebrow at the lazy answer. “On?”  

“Um, it’s for my early childhood studies class. I’m still wading through the reading and deciding what I’m going to write about.”  

Shayne couldn’t help but make a face similar to the one Charlie made when he ate spinach. “The reading any good?”  

“You know what? Yeah,” Charlie half-laughed. “I hated studying in secondary school, but everything they give me to do in my course is interesting. Is this – am I a dork now?”  

Shayne wanted to tell Charlie that he’d always been a dork, from the very first day they’d met, but he didn’t have it in him.  

Shit. He must have been even more down than he’d realised, if teasing Charlie had lost its appeal.  

But on the other hand, he also didn’t want to risk tainting the glistening enthusiasm that reawakened in Charlie’s eyes as he talked about childcare. There was something extremely endearing about seeing him get so passionate about something, even if it was an academic paper that would have put Shayne to sleep within the first few lines. It made Shayne want to break out into a grin as though he was the one fixating on something he thought was interesting.  

He shifted his head, turning it more towards Charlie. “What – what do you like about it?”  

Charlie wrinkled up his nose. “Mmm. I don’t want to bore you.”  

“You mean you don’t think I’ll get it.” 

“No, of course not, I –” Charlie huffed and shook his head. “Alright, well… I don’t know if this just appeals to me because of how strict my teachers were in playschool, but I’m so obsessed with the idea of self-directed learning…”  

Shayne closed his eyes. The sound of Charlie’s excitement wasn’t just like music to his ears, but more like the best song that had ever been composed. It made him wish there was a blanket woven from Charlie’s thoughts and emotions, which Shayne could just bury himself in and never emerge from.  

A repetitive sinking sensation started to tug at his skull, and his chest.  

“… in their cognitive development,” Charlie said. “You know, I’ve never actually asked; did your parents send you to a – hey.”  

Shayne felt Charlie trace the back of his finger against his cheek. He shivered at the gentle contact, but he didn’t open his eyes.  

“What?” he mumbled.  

“See, you’re bored. I’m putting you to sleep.”  

“Mmm. No. No, you’re not. Something about… tectonic development.”  

Charlie scoffed. “Don’t just say big words you know. I said cognitive development.”  

“I know, I know,” Shayne half-opened his eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Charlie had shifted in closer, and was lying with his face just inches away. “You said you’ll probably do your midterm essay on Montessori education because you like the independence it gives children.”  

Charlie raised an eyebrow.  

“See? I can listen.”  

“Why are you so sleepy, then, huh?” Charlie smiled and lazily slid a hand over Shayne’s waist. “What’s going on here? I thought the college student was supposed to be the tired one.”  

“Fuck. I know. Sorry,” Shayne said.  

If he was being completely honest with Charlie, he would have told him exactly how tired he was. He would have told him how hard it was for him to get to sleep when he was in the Mulberry house all by himself, wondering how many demons lurked in the forest, or how far Madelyn would go to get him back. He would have told him about the nightmares, the constant feeling of impending doom, the cold.  

But their limited time together also meant that Shayne was reluctant to be completely honest, especially when complete honesty could make Charlie doubt whether him being in college was a good idea, and reopen that whole conversation.  

And the thought of upending Charlie’s life made Shayne feel like someone was standing on his chest while wearing his own Doc Marten boots.  

When he snapped himself out of his thoughts, he realised that Charlie was still staring at him, cheek perched against his fist, hand still resting on Shayne’s side. The biggest, silliest grin was plastered across his face. Shayne could see the faint veins of turquoise that splayed out from the centres of his navy-blue eyes.   

His bangs had been allowed to grow a little longer, so that they curled down towards his eyebrows.   

Every time he blinked, his eyes seemed to glisten a little more brightly, as though they knew a secret, and for every second that Shayne didn’t share in that secret, the more delicious it became.  

Shayne blinked rapidly, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that his insides felt like they were melting.  

“Don’t you have to study?”  

“I do.” Charlie let out a wistful little sigh. He looked like the princess in the tower from one of the movies he’d made Shayne watch a few weeks ago.

Twisted? Tumbled?

“But you’re so beautiful," Charlie gushed, devouring the length of Shayne's body with just his eyes, "all stretched out like that.” 

A part of Shayne’s brain – most of it, really – wanted to pull his arms back from behind his head, folding them around his torso, and curl up on his side just out of spite. He managed to resist the urge, but something in him felt like it’d started to unravel. 

“Fuck college," Charlie whispered. Somehow, he made a profanity sound like the most romantic word in existence. "I’d rather just lie here like this... forever.”  

Shayne half-heartedly rolled his eyes at that, though he had to admit he was relieved to know that Charlie was just teasing him. Joking. Being an idiot; a cute one, but an idiot nonetheless.  

Ugh. He was looking him right in the eyes again, gazing at him... though he wasn’t smiling anymore. What was left on Charlie’s face was far more intense, and although Shayne couldn’t read his expression, he still seemed to feel what it meant.  

And what it felt like was a sudden swell of nerves, tingling in his stomach.  

When he blinked again, he could feel his eyes starting to water. His lips trembled, and his voice sounded faint as he said, “Stop.”  

Blonde eyebrows twitched as Charlie’s gaze faltered just slightly. “Stop what, lovely?”  

“Looking at me like that.”  

“Like what?” Charlie’s voice was so soft, so innocent, so full of gentle concern. Shayne knew his complaining had set him on edge slightly, but it somehow didn’t seem to break the spell Charlie’s eyes were casting. 

Like... like that, was all he could come up with.  

The inability to put the feeling into words pushed Shayne over the edge, from tentatively comfortable to mildly agonised.   

His insides had been fluttering gently throughout the touching and the gazing, but now it felt like the first pangs of a swirling ache.  

And it felt like it might dissolve him, from the pit of his stomach outwards.  

“Are you okay?" Charlie's tone shifted a little again. "What’s wrong?”  

“Mmm. Just…”  

Charlie untucked his hand from under his own cheek. “Yeah?”  

Shayne winced and lowered his gaze towards the zip of Charlie’s hoodie. Anything was better than continuing to view his gorgeous blue eyes, which only seemed to plunge his insides into even more indescribable agitation. 

“You’re making my stomach feel weird.”  

He felt Charlie’s hand move, fingertips brushing against the end of Shayne’s t-shirt. He barely touched the skin beneath the fabric, but the sensation sent warm shivers through Shayne’s muscles.  

“You’ve got butterflies?”  

“I guess that’s what you would call it,” Shayne mumbled.  

Charlie pushed himself up a little higher, dragging himself closer to Shayne with his elbows plodding along the mattress. Shayne still couldn’t meet his gaze, which was fine, actually, because it turned out that looking at his mouth was very appealing right now.  

Fingers tightening slightly at Shayne's waist, Charlie leaned down until their lips softly brushed together. Shayne shut his eyes and felt his head twitch instinctively closer to Charlie's face, deepening the contact without parting either of their lips. The hand on his side had been kind of cold at first, but now it radiated warmth through the fluttering mess in his belly. 

Charlie came away from the kiss with his eyes half-lidded and a shy smile pulling at his mouth.  

And then he sat up, legs still tucked to one side. He placed one hand on the bed to keep his torso up, and the other still rested gently on Shayne’s waist. His thumb rubbed tiny circles inside the side of his stomach, ruffling the fabric of his t-shirt.  

Yep, Shayne thought, finally meeting his boyfriend's gaze as he straddled his legs, it's going to dissolve me from the inside out.

___

Charlie knew he was grinning more than any dignified individual should, but he couldn’t help it. He raised his eyebrows when Shayne kept giving him that same, skeptical glare. 

After a second of hesitation, Shayne's expression softened.

Charlie gently crawled across him, pausing at intervals and looking at Shayne’s face. If he changed his mind, Charlie wanted to know as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to wait to be told, because Shayne didn’t always manage to get the words out.  

He settled with his knees at either side of Shayne’s legs.  

“Show me,” Charlie breathed. His cheeks warmed and his chest was gripped with a throbbing, all-consuming ache as Shayne’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion. “Show me where you’re feeling these butterflies.” 

He watched Shayne’s hand trace lightly across the slight hollow that formed beneath his ribs when he lay on his back. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, drawing a little line back and forth across his tummy before whispering, “Here.” 

Charlie wondered if, perhaps, he was about to black out and die.  

He swallowed, following Shayne’s hand with his fingertips. “Here?” 

“Mmm.” Shayne’s hand slipped away, and seemed about to tuck it beneath his head again, just like the other one, but stopped himself. He rested it on his chest instead. But even leaving himself vulnerable without both hands to protect himself was enough for Charlie to know he trusted him. 

With his heart pounding in his ears, Charlie slid his hands up either side of Shayne’s torso, until his thumbs were adjacent the point where Shayne had guided him to. He looked at Shayne’s face one last time; his eyes were calm and, to anybody else, unreadable, but Charlie knew there was a difference between Shayne’s neutral looks and his blank looks. Blank meant he was dissociating, or about to be.  

Neutral meant that he was okay.  

Still, Charlie met his dark gaze and raised an eyebrow; the response was a soft exhale, almost like a chuckle. Is this still okay? – Yes, it’s fine, idiot. 

Charlie drew his hands downward again, hooking his thumbs under the end of Shayne’s t-shirt. He slid his hands slowly back up Shayne’s waist, taking the fabric with them. Shayne drew a sharp breath as skin met skin, and his own hand vanished from his torso altogether, lifting to rest on the pillow next to his head. 

Breaking the eye contact was difficult at first, given how intimately Charlie found himself able to read Shayne’s tiny motions and expressions.  

But then Charlie looked down, and it suddenly wasn’t so difficult anymore. 

He lifted Shayne’s t-shirt halfway up, stopping while his ribcage was still covered with the soft fabric.  

Fuck. 

No matter how many times he saw it, it always felt like it was the first time he was getting to look at the smooth surface of Shayne’s stomach. 

The first thing Charlie did was draw his forehead across the soft skin, his bangs drifting along the contours of his lower ribs. He raised his head as he felt Shayne's abdominal muscles shiver, and bit his lip at the sound of a faint, strangled laugh.  

"Sorry," he whispered as softly as he could. Watch the hair. Got it. 

When he planted the first kiss, Shayne gasped again, but it was a deeper sound this time. His ribs rose harshly, but then fell with a little more control.

Charlie sighed in elation at the thought of fluttery, tingly feelings simmering just below the surface of his boyfriend's belly, all because of him.  He wasn't sure which he liked more; the idea that his kisses were calming the butterflies down and making the fluttering feeling ease up, or the idea that his kisses were making them go even crazier.

The prospect of either made him feel like his head was going to explode. 

Charlie leaned in harder for the next kiss, which blended seamlessly into the next one, and the next one, until it could hardly be called kissing anymore. 

He squeezed Shayne's waist and felt a hand idly brushing through his hair. 

Charlie was barely managing to resist letting his teeth get involved as his lips pressed and pulled at the smooth skin, drawing barely-audible whimpers out of his boyfriend. His breathing was getting a little shaky, Charlie noticed, by the way his chest and belly only rose and fell slightly, and shuddered as they did.  

Shayne took his hand back from Charlie's hair, and although Charlie didn't look up, he could tell that he was reaching above his head to stretch slightly. The muscles and skin of his stomach tightened under Charlie's lips, holding the tension for a couple of seconds before melting into softness again. 

Fu-uck. Whether these reactions were genuine, or a performance for Charlie's sake, he couldn't believe this was happening. 

He lightly traced his lips downwards, leaving no inch of skin unkissed as he made a line towards Shayne’s belly button. His own breath was growing unsteady as he forgot to come up for air. His thumbs were still positioned at either side of Shayne’s stomach, the rest of his fingers tucked around his waist, and in a moment of flushed passion, he squeezed and pulled him upwards, as though he couldn’t get his face close enough.  

Shayne leaned into the pull, back arched just slightly in response to Charlie’s hands.  

Charlie wanted to bury his face deep in Shayne's stomach and scream until his lungs were empty.  

I love him. 

I love him. 

Shayne lowered his back again, and it felt like he easing his weight back into Charlie’s hands. Charlie wished – with an intensity so strong that he found himself gnashing his back teeth together – that he had hands big enough that could wrap all the way around him. Or that he was tiny enough that he could curl up on Shayne's tummy like it was a bed. 

He sank his forehead down onto Shayne's stomach as though in defeat. He made sure not to drag his hair across Shayne's ribs this time. 

“You’re... you're so beautiful," he murmured.

Shayne sighed sharply, ribs tightening. Charlie ran his hands up to rest on his chest, which was still covered with his t-shirt, just to show that he wasn’t just saying nice things because Shayne was letting him have his way.

One of Shayne's hands reached down to play with Charlie's hair again, fingers drawing slow figure-8s between the back of his skull and the nape of his neck.

Charlie turned his head and nuzzled his cheek against Shayne's belly, reveling in its warmth and its springy softness and its existence. He'd lie here for a few moments, until he inevitably felt the need to smother it in kisses again.

It deserved a little break to recover from his nonsense, as did poor Shayne.

God, Charlie felt giddy and delirious. Like he was drunk. At least three beers in.

"You’re just… so fucking lovely," he blurted.

He felt Shayne's fingers twist a little harder into his hair, and the next time he felt his stomach muscles twitch under his cheek, Charlie was almost certain that it was from a very light sob.

"Charlie," Shayne said, before Charlie had even had a chance to react.

Charlie lifted his head swiftly, his mind clearing in an instant. His muscles were preparing to launch himself off the bed and give Shayne the space he needed. His tongue was prepped to apologise and assure his boyfriend that no matter what he was uncomfortable with, his feelings were completely valid.

But Shayne's eyes, despite the tears glistening in them, were pleading with him in a different way than Charlie had expected.

"Will you kiss my stomach again?"

[mypoisonedvine]

awestruck || lee bodecker x modern!reader

based on a request for how lee would react to today's women.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut (including oral, m and f receiving, and anal... lots of anal), degradation/praise, reader being a complete hoe for lee bodecker because I know y'all bitches and I know what you're up to, essentially pwp because I refuse to explain how/why lee is in the modern era

You were very, very different than the women Lee was used to.

With them it had been months of courting and flowers and seduction to get a few minutes of kissing, maybe even some over-the-clothes touching, but if he went too far he got slapped and dumped.

With you it was a swipe right and half an episode of something called "net flicks" and you were straddling him and grinding on him and kissing him like you had never wanted anything so much.

With them, sex was missionary only, every other week only, in bed only, and even when he made them feel good they didn't like to show too much enthusiasm because it was unladylike, apparently.

With you it was things he hadn't even realized were options-- like the very first time, when you were holding onto his knees for balance as you bounced your ass on him, moaning loudly, your pussy gripping him for dear life.

With women back then, sex was a thing women let men have as a begrudging favor, but you begged him for it, sobbed and shook and shivered beneath him, opened your legs for him constantly... he could barely keep up, honestly, but he was more than happy to try. When he couldn't come any more at least he could get you off with his fingers or devour your cunt, and you loved it.

Almost as much, you loved doing things women absolutely did not do in 1966. Only hookers gave blowjobs then, but you got on your knees and sucked him off gladly, getting wet just from his cock down your throat. You even swallowed his come; you even let him paint your face with it and it genuinely blew his mind.

He was totally in awe of you. You weren't just the woman of his dreams, you were beyond that: never in a million years could he have dreamed up a girl like you. Even further, he never would've thought he'd actually get to call you his girl.

"Yours, yours, all yours," you chanted as he pounded you into the mattress.

"Yeah you are," he agreed, "my fuckin whore, huh? My pretty fucktoy?"

"Yes," you sobbed, and he loved how much you loved being called rude things like that. "Whatever you want..."

"But it's not about what I want, is it?" he grinned. "It's about how you want to be used, all the filthy things you want me to do to you, ain't that right?"

You whined a little but nodded.

"So tell me what you want," he prompted.

"I want... I want you to take my ass," you admitted suddenly, biting your lip a bit as he stopped moving to stare down at you in shock.

"You— I— what?" he stammered.

"You... you don't have to, if you don't want—“

"Oh, I want," he cut you off to assure, "I wanna give you anything you ask for. I just... I didn't even know... How long have you been thinkin' about this?"

"Ever since the first time you fucked me," you admitted, making him choke on his gasp. "Remember, how I rode you and you kept staring at my ass? I kept hoping you'd hold me down and put your thumb in it while you fucked me..."

"Oh Christ," he groaned, "so that's how it is then? You're tryna kill me?"

You giggled, and he pulled out to roll you onto your back, kissing you suddenly.

"You're too fuckin good to be true," he sighed against your lips. You laughed and hugged him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I'm really nothing special," you denied with a smirk as he kissed his way to your neck, "a lot of girls will do that nowadays."

"It's not that you're willing to do it, honey, it's that you want it so bad," he explained in a whisper right against your ear. "I don't need half the stuff you do, I'd be happy with wholesome lovemaking three times a week. What's so amazing is that you want more... and for some goddamn reason you want it from me."

He kissed you again, a little slower but a lot harder, until he pulled back just enough to growl: "Turn over."

You happily flipped onto your stomach, arching your back to wiggle your butt out towards him.

"Quit actin' so desperate," he scolded with a hard spank that made you groan. "You're a hell of a woman but you sure as hell ain't no lady."

"You like it," you pointed out with a grin.

"Well, that's beside the point," he smirked back as he reached down to circle your tight rim with his finger. You reached up to your bedside drawer, from which a bottle of lube appeared in your hand that you passed back to him. "Now what's a sweet girl like you doing with this in her bedside drawer, huh?" he mocked, popping the cap to apply some to his fingers. "I see, you've got all sorts of guys coming over to fuck you in the ass, I'm just one of your hookups."

"No, just you," you sighed as he started to slide his lubed up finger over your hole. "I just want you, Lee, I swear."

"Hey, you're a modern woman, it would be too much to expect you to be a devil in the sheets and strictly monogamous..."

"Lee, baby, it's just you, haven't even thought about anybody else since I met you— fuck!" you gasped, interrupting yourself as he pushed one finger in.

"Just relax honey," he instructed, "if you can't take a finger I won't put my cock in you."

"No, please, need it," you whined. "I'll be good, please..."

He smiled and pushed the second finger in, slowly twisting within you and starting to stretch you out.

"More," you whispered, almost too quiet to hear but he heard you and quickly added a third finger which made you tense up at first before relaxing again.

He was entranced by watching your body open up for him, amazed at how well you were adjusting and how clearly your noises indicated enjoyment. He wouldn't have agreed to this if he didn't think you'd like it, and he had fully prepared himself for you to change your mind, but here you were... looking like you were having an even better time than he was.

"Please, I'm ready, I want it," you begged.

"No, baby, you need a little more," he assured, pushing his fingers deeper to be sure you'd be able to take him.

"Please please pleeeaaasse, I need your cock in me, I need you to fuck my ass—!"

He cut you off with another spank, pulling his fingers out of you to slather his cock with some lube and line it up with your hole. "You're sure?" he hissed.

You nodded eagerly and he barely moved his hips forward, just enough to start to slide his head into you, and you both let out a deep noise of pleasure together. But he didn't slow down until he met the end of you, one long smooth stroke into your waiting body until his hips met yours and he thought he might lose it right then and there.

"Oh my god," he sighed, "your ass is... so fuckin' tight..."

He started to move a little faster, pinning you down as you gasped and moaned so beautifully.

"Won't be by the time I'm done with it," he promised through his teeth, picking up his pace once again as you clutched at the sheets beneath you— yet your back arched to push your hips up towards him, so it was obvious you loved it. "That's whatcha want, sweetheart? For me to stretch out your ass?"

"Please," you whimpered.

"God, you're good, you're so good," he hissed, his hips slapping into your soft flesh loudly now, his rough hands pinning your shoulders down. “Too fuckin’ good…”

Your moans sounded different than usual— deeper, needier, desperate in a way he very much understood as he tried to hold himself back from fucking you too hard. It was difficult to pick where to look since every part of you looked so beautiful like this but he went ahead and settled his gaze on your face, the breathless moan you were perpetually caught in as your eyes fell shut and your mouth was open slack.

You chanted his name in a hoarse whisper as he fucked you harder, one more reminder to both of you that it was his body filling yours, his cock penetrating you in such a taboo way.

"I'm— I'm gonna come," you stammered, causing his brain to short circuit for a moment.

"You... you're gonna come, from this? Just this?" he realized.

You nodded, and he really had to hold back to not fill you instantly at the thought of you coming from anal alone. He understood now how he had suddenly appeared in this strange time, with no idea how or why; he must have died and gone to a very fucked up heaven.

“Go ahead and come then,” he instructed darkly. “Wanna see you come for me.”

He could all but see the shiver run up your spine, your upper teeth digging into your lip as you whimpered louder and louder— and it was a bit harder than normal to tell by the feel of you that you were coming, but the noises you made were incontrovertibly those of a woman thrown into pleasure. Your eyes rolled back, your moans exhausted and weak, and he couldn’t take it anymore: with a grunt of his own, he filled your insides with his spend, barely managing to hold his weight up so he wouldn’t crush you.

You hummed, wiggling a little under him as you caught your breath, and it was almost too much on his sensitive, softening cock.

“That was… you are…” he started over a few times, not even sure what to say.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you announced as you sat up and gave him a quick kiss. “Join me later?”

“O-okay,” he mumbled, watching you dash to the bathroom as he fell back onto the bed and contemplated the wonderful insanity his life had become with you in it. Maybe the future really is bright after all...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table. 

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

[umblackness]

needy

pairing – harry styles x reader

warning – humiliation. exhibitionism. daddy kink. cockwarming. degradation. dumbification. hella lot cringe. crawling? 18 +

summary – you aren't needy, no. but that doesn't mean you will let go the opportunity of harry fucking you.

request – And one where Harry takes you to Italy to a Beautiful villa with an infinity Pool and get cought by paparazzi having sex there haha !

author's note – this is shitty and not proofread so I am so sorry !! also, sorry for the wait too . . .

neediness.

it was the only thing that you were completely and utterly foreign. being a middle child, your needs weren't never really taken as needs. you didn't know what it felt to need something.

the first time when you needed something, was when you were a teenager and hadn't studied for your exam. you had fucking squealed when the results had come out and you had passed.

the second time was when you were going to confess your feelings for harry ; you just needed him to like you back. which, for the record, he did.

the third time was your art competition in school. the fourth was when you had revealed your kinks to harry. the fifth was when you got into a fight with your best friend. the sixth was when your favorite sneakers were on sale. the sixth was your fight with your mom. the seventh was when your boyfriend asked a homeless you to move in with him.

quite frankly, after that, you lost the count because after that, you needed him with you. on every day, every minute, every second, you just needed him with you.

You walked towards the changing room, a towel in hand because 'baby, the towels are all dirty!' or so he had claimed.

He had taken you to a heavenly villa in Italy, for your second anniversary. and apart from the pizza store down the street, that sold cauliflowers in pizza, the whole vacation had been brilliant. till now.

you had been sitting in the living room, sipping your coffee in peace, while he was swimming in the backyard. suddenly and completely out of the blue, he had called for you to bring a clean towel.

so, being the good girl you were, you had abandoned your coffee and now here you were. you were snapped out of your thoughts, when you felt someone push you into the water.

and since you and harry were the only one in the mansion, you had take a wild guess.

you emerged from underwater, letting out a shriek dramatically. however, your not-so-intense-glaring session came to an end as he jumped into the water too, before swimming closer to you.

"I don't want the towel, baby, you know what I want?"

He wrapped his arms around you, making you drop the things in your hand.

kissing your lips softly and passionately, he let his tongue dominate your mouth. he moved a bit so one of his hands moved to caress your cheek as the other one slipped lower, until it was gripping your ass.

quite frankly, you did know what he wanted. it was hard to forget when he talked about it throughout the flight. however, you couldn't help but tease him so the next words that came out of your mouth were filled of playfullness.

"What, daddy?" A growl that could make everyone and anyone drip with arousal vibrated through his chest. He quickly walked you backwards to the edge, flipping you so that your back met his chest, once you guys were there.

"I wanna rearrange your guts and turn you into a stupid mess." He paused, the hand that was on your cheek, was now fisting your his shirt. "I wanna fuck you, make you cum again and again, until you are blabbering for me to stop. "

"You want that, don't you?"

You managed to nod shakily, feeling your heat become wet and this time, it wasn't because of the water . His finger ran up and down your pussy, finding it vulnerable and bare, just like he expected.

one of his stupid rules said that you weren't allowed to wear any panties when you two were alone and of course, as much as you acted like you hated it, the truth was that you loved it ; you loved allowing him to have easy access to your body.

"Fuck, kitten. been such a good girl, deserve a reward, don't you?"

your eyes met his darkened ones and almost as if on queue, a moan left your mouth, followed by another choked moan, as two of his fingers slid in your pussy, not giving you any time to adjust.

Harry leaned down, his hand leaving your ass to open your mouth for him. He collected his saliva, holding eye contact as he spat in your warm mouth.

the groan he had let out as some of it fell on your jaw, was intoxicated and you craved more.

The sight was addicting to him as much as it was to you. he couldn't help but add two more fingers, wanting you to really fall apart underneath him.

"Daddy!" You screamed, the pain from the stretch already fading to a barley there sting.

"Aw, I know, whore. It feels good, doesn't it?"

Your ears burned from his mocking tone, you could feel the blissful feeling, your pussy felt so good that it hurt and yet, you couldn't help but nod pathetically.

Harry sighed, mocking disappointment. "Use. Your. Words. Slut."

"Y-yes, d-daddy! feels so good, can I cum please?" you whined.

As if to punish you for breaking his rule, he begun rubbing your clit, knowing how much that drives you crazy. You moaned, your own hands moving to your hair. You felt your eyes close, only for them to snap back open a second later.

"Look at me when I am" Harry sped up his moments, collecting his spit again but this time he spat right on your face. "destroying your tiny fucking pussy, you cum rag. fucking cum now."

reaching your high quickly, you let out the loudest moan of his name. he slapped your pussy, making you realise your mistake. panting, you were still in your post orgasm phase when

your gaze moved to his cock, his boxers felt like they couldn't burst anytime and you felt proud. your smugness was short lived though because he quickly took his fingers out of you.

He gave you a quick wink before slipping the soaked fingers in his mouth back and forth, he groaned, making you suddenly aware of the wetness between thighs.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, cockslut?" Fucking shit, your pussy throbbed at that.

"C-can I ride you please?"

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, hoping to appear innocent—it was all for nothing though, when he just landed another slap on your pussy.

still not saying anything, harry let go of you and walked out of the pool. your green eyed lover looked at you once again before slipping in the sun lounger by the pool.

Harry relaxed back in the chair before beckoning you forward with a finger and you, ever the good girl, go with it. you ignored the confusion and frustration in your mind as you climbed out of the pool.

As soon as you took a step forward, a tsk came from harry. "crawl for me like the good little slut, you are and can be."

you stared at him—it wasn't like you weren't comfortable, you and harry had discussed the limits months ago but what surprised you, was how much you wanted it.

you were broken out of your thoughts when he sighed mockingly. "I said crawl for me or is that too much to understand for your stupid little baby mind?"

you whimpered, dropping to your hands and knees. keeping your head up to maintain eye contact with harry, you crawled over.

once you were there, he was quick to manhandle you on his lap. his hands moved to your neck, where they caressed your collarbones. Harry's mouth replaced his hands soon, sucking hickies in your neck.

"good girl, maybe your not just a set of holes for me to use, after all." he spoke against your skin, making you shiver at his words.

"d-daddy, wanna make you feel good." you moaned, just wanting to please him like he pleased you.

"oh yeah?" he spoke and you could feel him smirk in your neck. "there's my good little cockslut, always so fucking eager to please her daddy. go on, baby, use your hand, since there's no way in hell I am going to grace that little throat with my cock."

nodding pathetically, you quickly lifted yourself up and lowered his boxers, just enough to take out his cock. one of your hands grabbed his cock, while the other swiped over the angry red tip.

your eyes moved to find his, only now taking in the fact that he had lifted his head from your neck. he hissed quietly, making you smile proudly.

your hand that was around his cock, fastened his pace and so did the one that was playing with his cock head. "I am your good girl, your good slut, right, daddy?"

"my best slut, so good to me." he regretted his words when he saw your proud smile change into a cocky one. "but that doesn't change the fact you are a slut, yeah?"

you nodded, letting out another whimper. wanting to make him feel good, you gave attention to his balls and his cock head more. he twitched, indicating that he was close.

and then, suddenly, he took your hand away.

"Gotta save daddy's precious cum for your little tummy, hm baby?" Harry whispered, squeezing your hand before his demeanor changed back to dominance.

"y'wanna have Daddys cum in your tummy?" he began, noting the eager glint in your eyes as you nodded way too fast. "Then earn for it. use your dumb little baby mind to make me cum and I would consider letting you cum again. Ride me."

a broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused. your lifted yourself before lowering down on his cock slowly.

you placed your hands on his shoulders for support, once you had taken half of him. you begun bouncing on his cock, trying to create a rhythm.

a scream of his name left your mouth, your body finally getting what it wanted. you looked up at him, only to whine at the sight— harry was relaxed back, his hands beside his head and he looked completely disinterested.

"does that feel good, daddy?" you asked, knowing that he had make fun of you—after all, that was what you needed.

"does that feel good, daddy?" he mocked, his lips set into a subtle smirk, even though you knew he was going soft inside. "look at my good cumdump, so eager for her daddy's pleasure."

you whined, bouncing harder on him, going completely in the rhythm you had set. you leaned to kiss him, sighing. after not even two seconds in the kiss, he bit your lip roughly, demanding entrance.

your passionate kiss went on for ten more seconds—seconds that consisted his tongue dominating your mouth and playing with yours—before he pulled away, with your bottom lip in his mouth.

harry leaned back a bit before letting go of it and watching it snap back into your place.

you smirked at the action, fastening your pace. however, it wasn't fast enough for your lover because the next thing you knew, he had thursted up into you, breaking youd rhythm and smirking harder at the broken moan you let out.

he went still again, making you do all the work. sighing lazily, harry moved to rub your clit, making your release come faster and so you bounced harder on him, tightening your pussy every once in a while.

he groaned, making a proud smile appear on your lips.

"d-daddy, can I cum?"

"hold it, yeah?"

before you could reply, he smashed his lips against yours. he rubbed faster at your clit, making you let out a small gasp. he took the opportunity as his tongue entered your mouth.

his tongue played with yours instantly, making you moan against his mouth. his tongue pushed yours back down before exploring your mouth.

harry pulled back, uttering a single growl of "my good girl" before diving in for another long passionate kiss.

feeling his dick hit your g-spot, you moaned loudly. he pulled back again, this time to breathe. he watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name.

"cum with daddy, baby. let go, yeah? wanna soak daddy with your juices?"

as soon as his permission reached your ears, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely. you screamed his name again, letting out a few curses.

he followed soon after, filling your pussy fully with groans and growls of your name.

you relaxed against his chest, both of you relaxing for ten or so minutes before he carried you back inside, his now softening cock still buried in you.

he laid the both of you on the bed, smiling when you started playing with his hair. Harry nuzzled your neck, laying soft kisses on your neck, smirking whenever he came across an hickey.

the sheets around you were soft and like dreams. however, the man that was covering you with his arms now, was softer.

you stared at him, admiring his beauty and even though it sounded a little creepy, you didn't care. who wouldn't admire this God of a man.

you cuddled against his bare chest even more. you guys had slept while you were cockwarming him—actually, he had carried you around yesterday, since your legs had felt like jelly. you wouldn't have it any other way though.

you closed your eyes, almost falling back asleep when the sound of your phone buzzing snapped your eyes spoken. Harry groaned, tightening his arms around you.

you patted his hair softly, watching as the tension left his body and his eyes softly opened. you gave him your signature smirk, he shook his head, burrying it in your hair afterwards.

his hand gave a small squeeze to your ass, though his hand moved back to your waist, when you shot him a glare.

the cute moment was interrupted by your fucking phone buzzing. he groaned again, nuzzling his head in your hair even more.

you pulled back to blindly grab your phone from the bedside table, smiling at the one direction lockscreen before quickly typing in his name for password.

you looked over your notifications, your disinterest quickly changing into dread as you came across one particular twitter notification.

"no, nope, this can't be happening." you muttered, clicking onto the notification.

Harry furrowed his brows at that, sitting up with you in his arms quickly and accidentally thrusting up in you. "Is it a other hate comment, angel? I told those assholes to not bother my baby but no-"

"shut up, h." you smacked his chest as he raised one eyebrow. "Sarah just messaged me and our photos got leaked. it's breaking the internet."

"what?" he took your phone and sure enough, there were four blurred paparazzi photos of you two from yesterday.

the first one was of him kissing you in the water, the second was of him spitting in your mouth, the next was of him sucking his fingers and winking at you, the fourth was of you crawling for him.

"baby, these are all blurred. the ones with me spitting and you crawling for daddy are even more blurred. management is probably going to do something so don't worry, yeah?"

he wasn't wrong though — you thought, nodding at him. now that you were reassured, maybe you didn't need the earth to swallow you now.

you smiled a little before he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"besides, the world and your little friends now know about how you are a filthy slut for daddy, yea– OW, I AM SORRY!"

[duuhrayliegh]

my hero - request

request: anon: hi could you write a sebastian x female reader fic where she suffers from anxiety and feels bad because of it but he comforts her and tells her there’s nothing wrong with her and how strong she is even though she has this disorder

pairing: sebastian stan x female!reader

warnings: self-esteem issues, anxiety, toxicity in the fandom, language?

a/n: hey nona! you weren’t super specific on what type of anxiety that you wanted to reader to have, so if this isn’t what you had in mind, lmk and i’ll write you another fic! other than that i hope you like it!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

check out my m.list

You and Seb met at a coffee shop in New York. It was totally cliche and seemed straight out of a storybook. You had somehow managed to spill coffee on that specimen of a man, and he was kind enough to let you pay for his dry cleaning. Your relationship didn’t grow until you ran into him again while you were at a bar with your friends. If he had any say in telling the story of how you met, he spotted you from across the smoky bar and he knew then and there that he had to get to know you. Truthfully, you liked his version, but the real one was just indescribable. It seemed, to you at least, that you were destined to be with this man. Seeing him twice in one week? Come on, that’s possible if you were in the small town you grew up in, but not New York.

You obviously had recognized him as an actor, but really you didn’t care. That’s what drew Sebastian to you in the first place. You treated him as if he was any other guy on the street, he was able to be a normal person around you. Now, two years later, you lounge on the couch of your apartment in LA that you shared with the man you love. He’s still auditioning for any role that catches his eye and you’re supporting him no matter what.

His fans for the most part adored you and your relationship with Sebastian. The fans who didn’t like you were your only issue with this whole affair, but they had nothing to do with Sebastian other than flood his socials with nasty messages about you. You weren’t perfect, that you knew all too well, and you tried to let the comments roll off your shoulders. Most of the time you were successful in your efforts, but other times they clung to your skin like an unwanted disease.

Sebastian was currently promoting his new project Endings, Beginnings. You were so unbelievably proud of Seb, he was doing something that made him happy. In this particular film, he was acting alongside Shailene Woodley, who was just amazing. Seb always came home gushing about the new inside jokes that they had come up with. One of your favorite things that Seb did with you was run lines. You liked having the inside scoop on his new works, but this one was harder for you. It had quite a few sex scenes between Seb’s character Frank and Shailene’s Daphne.

Not that it bothered you. Nope. Didn’t bother you. At all.

...mmm, okay maybe it bugged you a little. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sebastian, it was… well you couldn’t really describe what it was. Whatever the case may be, it was putting you deeper and deeper into a funk, one that you were having a hard time coming out of. And Seb’s fans who weren’t in your corner, weren’t really helping you any.

A few nights ago, Seb surprised you with a casual night out in LA. He texted you before he got home and told you that he was going to be taking you out. Did he give you a dress code for the evening? No, he did not (wonderful, thanks so much Seb). You decided to dress in a half business casual, half rail me when we get home outfit. You ended up wearing an adorable bustier top that was embroidered with pretty blue and pink flowers, a pair of destroyed jeans covered your legs. You finished it off with a pair of nude heels, when you looked in the mirror, you thought you looked hot as fuck. It was around seven when Seb picked you up, mouth hanging open, in awe of your outfit.

“Oh my god. You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He opened the passenger door of his car after he hugged you, giving you a small peck on the lips. Sebastian drove you to a restaurant a block off of Thai Town called Home Restaurant.

“Babe, this place is so cute!” You squeezed Sebastian’s upper arm, jumping up and down beside him. “How’d you find this place?” Sebastian shook his head, smiling at you.

“I asked Shai, actually.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, and your heart sank a little. Why did it do that? “She said that the paps hardly ever come around here.” He leaned down pressing a kiss to your temple. “I thought that draga mea deserved a quiet night out on the town.” His voice rasped as he spoke in his native tongue, making a shiver race down your spine.

“Well, tell her I said thank you.” You offered him a small smile. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing circles on the exposed skin above your jeans. He spoke with the hostess as your mind drifted away. You were pulled out of your thoughts when he guided you to your table. Sebastian sat across from you, staring deeply into your eyes. You brought your hand up to rest your chin on it, staring back at him. “How’s everything been going?” You were genuinely interested in the answer and it made your heart warm watching his face light up.

“It’s been going really well. Everyone we worked with was real nice, it made all the scenes more comfortable.” Seb’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the scenes and you knew which ones he was referring to.

“Oh, right.” You tried not to let your emotions show.

“Yeah, we’re about to start teasing some of them to promote the show.” Seb sighed at the thought of having to use social media, you shook your head at him.

“I’ll help you with it, you dork.” You laughed to hide your discomfort. “Which scene did they approve for the posts?” Sebastian began to speak when he was interrupted by your waitress. After the two of you ordered your food, the waitress returned with your drinks. Sebastian took a large gulp of his before answering your previous question.

“They want me to post the trailer and then the scene between Frank and Daphne at the bar.” You tried to think back to the script, remembering the context. Frank and Daphne were meeting after Daphne had gone out on a date with Jack. Daphne was claiming that she didn’t want to be a wedge in their friendship, then proceeded to make out with Frank. If you were recalling correctly, Frank and Daphne’s first sex scene followed soon after.

“Okay, we can do that. Do you have any behind the scene pictures you wanna post too?” Seb got out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll to see. He had several different photos of him with Jamie and then him with Shailene. He showed you his phone on a picture of Shailene leaned against him on a couch, her arm over his waist. A red filter colored the photo, you had to hand it to him, it was a good one to use. “We can post it whenever we get home, love.” Sebastian locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket, to focus solely on you.

“How has your day been, draga mea?” You bit your lip as you thought about what you’ve been doing. You’ve been working towards your Master’s, so your days have been filled with preparing for your dissertation. On top of that, you’ve become a bit of an influencer on different social media platforms. Really, you believe your popularity came from your relationship with Sebastian. You’ve been giving his fans the content that they’ve always wanted. Not only that, but you’re active with them.

“My day was good today. I had to edit a few papers from my other classmates but other than that I didn’t do much. I did make a few TikTok videos, but really today was a bit of a lounge day for me.” Seb smiled at you, proud of how hard you’ve been working.

“I should be getting a few days off soon, so we can relax together in the apartment, if you aren’t too busy with your classes.” He stretched his arm across the table, palm up waiting for your hand. Seb pulled your hand up to his mouth, placing a sloppy kiss onto the back of it. His eyes settled on you lovingly. To Sebastian, you were the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The two of you managed to finish your meal in peace. No fans came up to Sebastian asking for photos, no paparazzi swarms when you left, just a quiet meal for a normal couple in love. After you got home and you were snuggled in your pajamas alongside Sebastian in your comfortable bed, he handed you his phone to read over his post for his Instagram. The paragraph was sappy, about his time working with Drake, the director, and working with the rest of the cast. Seb always was a softy, never was able to hide it, especially in promo posts.

“It looks good to me. Are you going to post it now? Or wait until tomorrow morning?” Seb debated, he probably should wait and do it tomorrow, but he was most likely going to forget to do it. He clicked post, putting his phone on charge and snuggling into you.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Y/N.” He kissed your jawline, nuzzling his face into your neck. “It really means a lot to me, baby. I love you so much.” He wrapped both hands around your waist, pulling you to his front. You smiled wide, momentarily forgetting all of your troubles.

“I love you too, Seb.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s get some sleep, love.” Little did you know that a single post could ruin all of the progress that you thought you had made.

*********************

You woke the next morning, alone in bed. You could hear pots clanging in the kitchen of your home, bringing a smile to your face. Before you left the safety of your bed, you checked your socials out of habit. You opened Instagram first, seeing an absurd amount of notifications this early in the morning. Your smile dropped as soon as you opened the first post. Comments on Sebastian’s post about Endings, Beginnings and his chemistry with Shailene weren’t entirely out of the ordinary. They were to be expected, they were playing parts in a love triangle. People were ‘shipping’ Shailene with Seb and Jamie, so that wasn’t too crazy.

What hurt you were the comments saying, “living for shailene and sebastian! she’s a much better match for him than y/n.”

“never thought that y/n girl was going to last, glad he’s going w shailene”

“shailene and seb supremacy”

“yes! i’ve always supported seb in everything he’s done, but i rlly questioned him when he got w that y/n girl. what was he thinking?!”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you continued scrolling. You never thought you and Sebastian never fit. You knew that people had issues with your relationship, but you never let it get in your head this bad. You checked your explore page, pictures of you and Sebastian from last night were riddling the page.

Your heart dropped.

There were pictures of the two of you from last night with parts of your body circled. The exposed skin above your waistband, the excess skin on your neck and arms. You don’t know where they got these pictures, but your stomach was steadily sinking with each picture you saw. The door of your room opened, revealing a smiley Sebastian with a plate full of eggs in one hand and a cup of orange juice in the other.

“Good morning, baby.” You quickly shoved your phone away from you, wiping your tears away from your eyes to meet his. His brows furrowed immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You snuffled quietly, before answering.

“Uh, nothing. I’m just so proud of you.” You smiled at him, not wanting to bring down his already happy mood with your problems. Was that entirely healthy? Probably not, but you were doing it anyway, consequences be damned.

“Oh, well you don’t have to cry for me, Y/N. Even if you’re proud.” He walked up to your side of the bed, placing the cup and plate on your nightstand. He brought his hand up to your cheeks, wiping away your tear streaks. “You know that I only like to see tears whenever it’s me causing you so much pleasure you beg me to stop.” He winked at you, smirking at your rising blush. To say that didn’t lift your spirits for about half a second would be a lie. Sebastian brought the plate to your lap, waiting for you to start eating. At this particular moment, after seeing all those horrible pictures of your body, your appetite had gone out the window, but he was so smiley.

“After you eat, I want ya to shower.” Sebastian’s hand came up to your jaw, cupping it as you used it to chew the eggs. “We’ve got a long day of lounging and enjoying each other's company ahead of us.” Sebastian stood from the bed, throwing a wink at you as he left the room dramatically. You stopped eating soon after he left, the food tasting like ash on your tongue. At some point, you got into the bathroom, staring at the reflection in the mirror.

Your phone was in your hand again. The pictures flooding your Twitter feed. Shaky breaths left your mouth as you watched your reflection tilt its head. Tears began gathering in your eyes as it felt like you weren’t in your own skin anymore. You had worked so hard to be comfortable in your own body.

It’s amazing how just one picture can ruin everything.

You leaned forward on the countertop, hands holding up your weight. You shifted towards the mirror, examining every miniscule detail that your eyes could see. Your lids came down quickly, tears dragging down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head back and forth.

“You are not going to let this get to you.” You took a few deep breaths as you turned on the shower. Not wanting to be around the mirror anymore, you kept your bath short, talking to yourself the whole time. By the time you left the bathroom, it was steamed completely, you couldn’t see your reflection even if you wanted to.

“He loves you.” You had a mantra and you continued to repeat it as you walked into your shared closet. “He loves all of you.” You pulled one of his old t-shirts off a hanger. “Sebastian loves you.” A pair of your underwear and his loose boxers covered your lower half. “Sebastian loves all of you.” You shoved your feet into a pair of fuzzy pink socks, leaving the closet still muttering to yourself. You tucked your phone into your waistband after checking your socials again. You know you shouldn’t have, but there was some part of you that just wouldn’t let you not.

The same shit covered your For You page on TikTok. Videos from the trailer of Seb and Shailene and then videos of you and Seb, comparing the two relationships. “They do fit well together.” You thought to yourself. A part of you wondering why Seb was with you in the first place.

“Did you say something, love?” Sebastian looked at you from the couch. A blanket was strewn over his lower half, his upper body inviting, waiting for you to join him. His smile dropped when he took in your glassy eyes instead of your usual happy expression.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” He started towards you, eyes running over your body for any outward injuries. An understanding look crossed his face when he saw your phone clutched in your hand. “Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Sebastian’s hands rested on your shoulders, lightly caressing your biceps. You recoiled from his touch, feeling uncomfortable in your own body.

“Just some stuff that some fans posted.” Seb’s thumb traced just under your eye, wiping away the tears. He held his right hand out for your phone, to understand what you were talking about. His brows furrowed deeply as he scrolled, not fully processing how destructive his fans could be. Sebastian always believed that they were the best fucking people in the world. He knew that they could be mean, but this was something else.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about, Y/N.” Sebastian’s voice was firm. It was almost strong enough to cut through the fog invading your brain, but not quite. You had officially zoned out. Dead to the world. Lost in your own thoughts. No matter how destructive those thoughts may be.

Sebastian noticed that you were already too deep, having experienced this with you many times before. He was aware that you were self-conscious, insecure, however you want to describe it. Your anxiety always got worse when you were stressed. Prepping for your dissertation was definitely a stressful time. Add on top of that, Sebastian was constantly pulling you from your work for various reasons. Had he contributed to this? Scratch that thought, he didn’t have time for that. He needed to bring you back down to Earth, back to him.

“Y/N.” His hands hovered over your hips. “I’m going to touch you for a second.” He directed you to the couch, settling on the coffee table in front of you. His fingers lightly traced circles onto your knees, as he assessed how he should approach this.

“Y/N. Baby?” Sebastian hesitated before bringing his fingers up to your chin, not wanting you to react badly. “I’m right here, Y/N, it’s Sebastian.” His left hand hadn’t left your knee, continuing to trace small patterns into your skin, giving you something to ground yourself with. He watched you blink and swallow harshly, inhaling sharply before opening your mouth.

“Why are you with me?” Your chin trembled with unvoiced sobs. “You deserve the world, Seb. I’m not even--” Your sentence was cut off by a loud whimper causing tears to start streak down. Sebastian wasn’t sure if this was a situation where you wanted him to be involved, so he waited for a sign.

“I’m not even worth a glance from you.” Your hand came up to wipe at your runny nose. “They’re so right. You need to be with someone like Shailene.” A bitter sob racked your body, making your body fold in half. Sebastian caught you before you hurt yourself.

“Y/N. I love you.” He always heard you say that to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. He knew that you suffered from anxiety, so he was always watching. Always paying attention to your little cues. The little things that he could use to help you as much as he could. “I love all of you.” He held one of your hands, running his thumb over the back of it.

“I don’t care what they say, baby.” He lifted your face to his, steel blue eyes locking with your cloudy pair. “I picked you.” He pecked your right cheek. “I want you.” A peck to your left. “I want only you.” One to your forehead. “It’s always been you, Y/N.” Another on your chin. “I love all of you, Y/N.” Sebastian landed a final short kiss to your lips, lingering for only a second.

“I want you to understand something, Y/N.” His gaze never left you. “I’m not going anywhere.” His brows raised as he hardened his voice. “I’m especially not going anywhere at the behest of my fans. I love them to death, but they don’t get to decide who I love.” Sebastian shifted to sit next to you on the couch. “Is it okay if I put my arms around you?” All he got was a brief nod in return, which was expected.

“I’m yours, Y/N. As much as you’re mine.” His arms descended around you, wrapping you in a loving embrace. You turned to face him fully, bringing your own arms around his waist, shoving your head into his neck.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all my shit, Seb.” Sebastian almost missed your comment because you spoke into his shoulder and through loud snuffles. He backed away to look you in the face.

“I signed up for this, Y/N. I’m here for whatever we go through.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “We go through ‘your shit’ together, Y/N. This is a partnership, a two-way street.” He looked at the weak smile on your face, heart warming slightly at the sight. His face turned serious, casting a glance at your phone on the coffee table.

“How long have you been sitting on this?” He knew how quickly your mind could twist things, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. You bit your lip, not meeting his eyes anymore.

“Just since this morning.” He held you away from his body, watching your expression.

“Is this why you were crying earlier?” You gave him a meek nod in response. “Baby, I thought we talked about this. We have to talk to each other when we think we’re going to go into a funk.” The two of you had talked about it before, but you didn’t think this was going to be a funk.

“I should’ve been able to just shake this off because I know you love me and you won’t leave me because of something that some people on the Internet say.” The words left your mouth before you could process everything, your mind quick to defend itself.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t always have to be able to shake something off. We just have to keep each other in the loop.” Sebastian looked over your tear-stained face, pressing a kiss to your forehead again. “Let’s ditch the phones today. Just spend the day in each other’s arms, how’s that sound?” You smiled softly, nodding at the man in front of you. He got up quickly hiding both of your phones in the kitchen somewhere.

This definitely wasn’t a solution to dealing with your anxiety, Sebastian knew that. It also wasn’t dealing with the toxic people on the Internet, but you didn’t need that right now. You needed to be immersed in an environment that accepted what you were going through without judgement, Sebastian could provide that. Seb hummed happily when you snuggled into his side under the covers on your couch while he searched for a movie. He kissed the top of your head and he felt you smile against his stomach.

“I’m proud of you, draga mea.” You turned to face him, a confused expression lacing your features.

“For what, Seb?” He stroked your face with a single finger, mapping out your features.

“I’m proud of how you handle yourself. I’m amazed at how strong you are, even when you think you’re not.” He leaned closer to you, whispering his next words. “You’re my hero.” One corner of your mouth twitched upwards, not wanting to accept it. You rolled your eyes playfully, settling back onto his stomach before speaking.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

[purefandomonium]

Part 7: New Moves

This is the part that random snippet I posted came from. It's one of my favorite parts tbh. I just really enjoyed writing it.

The days that went by were pleasant. They talked, Leann played the game the way it was intended, and he learned more and more about what life was like outside of that damn cartridge. It was wonderful, having someone to talk to who not only listened, but also gave opinions of their own. Unlike the empty mannequins that surrounded him, Leann never repeated the same lines like a broken record. She never seemed to run out of things to say. Although he still felt like a puppet, he could rest a little easier knowing he seemed to be in good hands. In fact, he could almost say it was nice being like this. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been corrupted by players glitching the game for fun all that clearly, but he knew things used to be like that once.

The longer he was able to think like this, the less foggy his mind seemed to be. It was refreshing.

“So,” Leann started, the sounds of Family Feud playing in the background, “all this lady has to do is answer these questions and get enough points for the next person to have a chance. But she’s really freaking stupid and I don’t know why they chose her.”

RED: Well give her a chance.

“When asked to name a food that happened to be yellow, she said orange…”

RED: …It’s called optimism, ok?

Leann laughed but quieted herself as soon as the timer started going. She hadn’t heard the first question but knew that twelve o’clock was probably an awful answer.

“Did you— Can you believe this!” She wanted to reach into the screen and smack the woman. “Do you have any idea how many braincells you have to lack to be this stupid?”

Leann couldn’t hear it, but Red was laughing.

“I don’t even— She’s only gonna get, like, sixty points max.”

RED: I’ll say fifty.

It was Leann’s turn to laugh. Sure enough, the final score was under a hundred points. She’d managed eighty-three—somehow—but that left quite a bit of legwork for her sister. At least she seemed smarter.

“So close,” came Leann when the episode ended.

RED: A for effort.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, until, “Would you do a game show if you could?”

Red thought about it.

RED: It would certainly be… interesting. But probably not.

“Yeah?”

RED: I just can’t see the appeal.

“It’s my understanding you can’t see much of anything,” she joked. She hoped he didn’t take it poorly.

He… No. He couldn’t see. Not out anyway. But something felt wrong about that statement. He couldn’t figure it out. Was it because it made it sound like he couldn’t see at all? He could see the empty white void he resided in when Leann wasn’t playing the game just fine. He could see it just as well as the game itself when it was being played. No, that wasn’t why it felt off to him. So why then?

“Hey… I was only joking,” she said to the static screen. Red tended to leave the game in a sort of pause state when she wasn’t interacting with it, something he only started doing recently.

RED: Hm? Oh, I know.

RED: It’s just…

He was silent for a long while.

RED: Nevermind.

Leann had no answer to that. It sounded final and she decided not to pry. Instead, she observed the sprites on the screen. Whenever Red “paused” the game, the background remained wherever she had left off and everything just sort of froze in place. A childish thought crossed her mind. “Do you ever get tired standing there like that?”

RED: What do you mean?

“Just standing frozen like that when I’m not playing. Don’t you get sick of doing that?” The more she spoke, the more ridiculous she realized the question was. Red wasn’t a physical person so why on earth would he get “tired” from standing in a digital landscape? Then again, he was sentient, so maybe it wasn’t such a far stretch after all.

RED: That doesn’t bother me any. That’s not even me.

“It’s… not?”

RED: Not exactly.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Was it just an avatar then? Just a body for the player to abuse while the real Red resided deep in the code? Every time she thought about this she gave herself a headache trying to figure it all out.

RED: It’s me, but it’s not ME.

No response.

RED: So the you that physically exists is you, but humans have souls right? Your body isn’t your soul. Souls don’t exist in the physical sense.

RED: That sprite you see is my “body,” but my “soul” is deeper in the game.

“I thought you… I thought you weren’t, you know, alive?” Her head was spinning.

RED: I’m not alive in that sense of the word. That’s why I used quotations.

RED: It’s just… I’m not…

She watched him struggle for words.

RED: Maybe I should just show you.

The screen went black then, and she felt a jolt of panic shoot through her as she checked the charger she’d made. It was still plugged in, the wall portion seemed fine…

She needn’t have worried as the screen lit back up again, a bright, unnatural white it shouldn’t have been capable of producing. She had to squint just to look at it. It almost seemed to spill out of the edges, more a physical substance than something artificial. She watched as colorful pixels—more than the GameBoy should’ve been able to handle—swarmed about the blank space as they arranged themselves into a defined shape.

The form of a black-haired kid in a red and white hat with bright red eyes stared back.

Perhaps kid was the wrong word. Physically, she knew the image before her was supposed to be roughly ten- to eleven-years-old. That’s how it always seemed to be in these games, she’d noticed. Let the child be the hero rather than the adults because it would net more sales among the youth that way. But Red—the real Red— didn’t look like some rambunctious brat with a lot of ambition. He looked tired, worn out, and he held an air of melancholy that looked nothing like the superstar poster boy he was meant to be for the series.

Understandable, given his situation. His appearance matched his experience of being trapped forever in a game he couldn’t stop from happening, being tormented for well over twenty years by players looking to break the game further than it already was.

He looked like a child subjected to unspeakable torture that was forced to grow up.

RED: This is me. This is the real RED.

“…I always thought the game itself was your body,” she mumbled numbly, still in shock at this sudden display of ability.

Red shook his head, the movement fluid despite the limited capabilities of the GameBoy. Despite the fact he didn’t have a voice, his lips still mouthed the words that appeared on screen.

RED: The cartridge was never my body. It’s just my prison.

“…I’m sorry, Red. I wish I knew how to get you out of there.”

He shrugged. Tilting his head:

RED: You seem to think that would make a difference. Why?

Why? He wouldn’t be so miserable for one thing! “Red, you do realize this proves you’re alive right? Maybe not in the same way as me. You don’t have a living, breathing body, but you have a soul! Or something like it. Besides, isn’t being free what you wanted?” She watched him cast his gaze downwards, head tilting to follow. His hat left an impossible shadow over his eyes so that all she could see was his frown.

RED: I’m not really sure what I want anymore.

RED: At first, I wanted revenge.

RED: Revenge on every single player who’d wronged me. Who warped the game into this unrecognizable mess.

His form flickered, shifting into something dark for a single instant.

RED: I wanted payback on the ones who created me, who created that impostor and left me ABANDONED when I was no longer GOOD ENOUGH.

RED: I WANTED TO KILL THEM ALL.

His face twisted then, teeth bared in a wild snarl. His shoulders raised and the collar of his jacket went nearly all the way up to his hat. Though she couldn’t see them, she knew his hands were tightly clenched. He radiated anger like this, but it soon dissipated. She felt a strong sense of relief when his face went back to normal and realized how quickly her heart was beating.

RED: …But then I realized it wouldn’t make a difference.

RED: I’d still be forgotten and replaced, the only people who would’ve remembered me would be dead…

RED: …It wouldn’t erase the torture I’d experienced.

RED: Getting out would be nice, but where would I even go? What would I do? I don’t even exist in the real world.

RED: As far as anyone’s concerned, I’m just a character in a video game.

Leann was at a loss for words. Was there even an acceptable response to this?

Red didn’t seem to care. He lifted his head and locked eyes with her, somehow knowing how to find them, and gave a small smile.

RED: You’re the only person who’s ever treated me like I matter, so if it’s alright with you…

RED: …I’d like to stick with you a little longer. Maybe I’ll figure things out then.

She simply stared back, blood red eyes boring into her even though that was impossible. What was she supposed to say here? Her heart was still calming down from his prior display of rage.

“Sure, but… You never answered my question,” she said weakly. He tilted his head in response. “If the player sprite is your body… bodies still get tired though…”

They both stared at each other before Leann lost it and just laughed at the absurdity of the situation. It started out as controlled chuckles before spiraling into a fit. The feeling of fear had passed and she knew she wasn’t gonna give up on Red. Despite what most would see as threatening, she knew he wasn’t malicious. He was just a scared, lonely child trapped in a world he didn’t ask to be a part of and trying to figure things out. They had that in common.

When she calmed down enough to look at Red’s visage again, she saw he, too, was laughing.

Side note: the yellow food=orange thing is a real instance a friend of mine had. She just blurted it out for no reason and yes I still give her shit for it 😂

Part 6: here

Part 8: here