#until they followed each other back and started commenting on each other photos and all
Text
public eye pt2 | d.s
tw: low appetite, possible miscarriage, cheating
pt 1 here
a/n: it’s finally out lol!! tysm for the interaction on the past fic🥹 i hope you enjoy! lmk your thoughts x
"drew if it's not what you want and it's what I eventually want, are we even right for each other? What are we doing? You don't care for me like you usto, you're not the same. you're a dick" you say trying not to shout
"I don't know what I want right now?" Drew states, not looking you in the eyes.
How's he being so calm? Why is he doing this? This is not like drew.
"fuck you." You stand up out of the chair and walk right out of the cafe doors, tears start streaming down your face and you try to hide your face with the palm of your hand...
*snap* followed by a flicker
*snap* *snap*
fuck.
you look around...
"Is that paparazzi?" you mumble to yourself
you walk faster to your car, quickly opening the door and throwing your bag on the backseat, you fumble to turn the engine on and see slight flickers through the rearview mirror...this is the last thing you need right now.
_________________________
After setting your keys aside on the kitchen table and kicking your shoes off, you immediately undressed out of the clothes you had picked out to see Drew in and chucked on your dressing. spending the rest of that day on the couch. Tears would brim in your eyes, often spilling over through the course of the day as you'd replay what had been said by drew in your mind. And there was no text from him. no apology, no checking up on you, no nothing...maybe this was really over? It seemed to all happen so quickly. How could you go from, what people knew as the 'IT' couple, to being, well...nothing.
Passed out on the couch, you are awoken by the pinging of notifications coming from your phone. In a dazed state your initial thought is that Drews trying to get hold of you. Your hand fumbles around the couch as you follow the sound trying to relocate the phone. You pick it up, eyes half wide, and check the time. 4:07am.
"fuck" you mumble too yourself, you've been on this couch for nearly 12 hours...
As your eyes wander down from the timestamp at the top of your phone screen, you lock your gaze onto the first notification.
Twitter : @drewobxlover03 Tagged you in a post.
'okay, pretty normal?' you think to yourself
but as your sleepy eyes drift down some more...
6,789 more.
You quickly adjust your position on the couch, now sitting up as your back leans against the arm of it... your gaze widens.
Too caught up in your own trail of thoughts and distress when you entered your home earlier, The flickers from the paparazzi camera didn't even cross your mind. You were used to it to say the least, but you'd forgotten the difference in what they may have captured earlier on...
Your finger glides over the notifications and swipes to open.
You're met with a picture grid.
A "slideshow" full of your swollen teary face. Drews hands flailing around at you through the cafe windows. your figure towering over drew as you got up out of your seat. You abruptly dash out of the cafe doors...
The number on your twitter activity heading just keeps rising... and rising.
A pit in your stomach starts to grow, but You can't help but click on more, its a bad idea...
Met by more photos of you from different angles, red streaks from tears that have trailed down your cheeks. Feelings of embarrassment overcome your being.
until the embarrassment turns into dismay.
Your palm meets your mouth, shocked by the images on your phone screen, you're breathed.
They're in a car...pictures of him, and her... touching her face?...They're laughing? they’re way too close for your liking.
your heart begins swelling with hurt, you feel a physical pain ache within your chest, thoughts that it may almost rupture.
You scan the comments, your thumb appears to be scrolling too fast for your eyes to catch up.
@user0844628495: OMFG HE DIDN'T TT!!???
@Chaseforeverxoxo: I never liked y/n anyways lol.
@obxstufffff: Who is she???
@starkeyandy/l/n20: no no no no!!! please, I don't believe in true love fr :((((((
@user984763097: I hate men.
You should've known from the moment Drew was being distant after he started shooting for the new film that there was something off, that he'd possibly found another girl. it just never seemed to cross your mind. Not your drew? Not after nearly 4 years and especially not after you guys were so public with your relationship.
Maybe it lingered in your subconscious...but your heart was too heavy to allow yourself to slip that possibility to the front of your mind. You feel like a fool.
The only person who knew you and drew just as equally was Madelyne. After phoning her up and apologising for how late it was, you explained the situation. she offered to come round and comfort you, and you allowed her to do just that, as you sobbed into her arms she was wiping your tears. She didn't say much, she just held you...the truth is there's not much she could say...at least not to you anyways. But she promised the next time she and Drew would come into contact it would not end well, and she was adamant that it would be the last time she would willingly be in the same room as him. Even though you met Madelyn through drew, you and her hit it off so quickly, it's like you found your platonic soulmate as well as your romantic one...or so you had thought.
~~~~~~~
Madelyn was passed out on the opposite side of the couch when you decided to get up and get some water, your appetite was certainly not present but you figured you should hydrate yourself, your tears had drained your body from water. You glance over to the kitchen as you make your way there. The time reads 8am on the digital clock within the microwave.
As you drag your feet around the kitchen, collecting a glass to fill with water, your ears prick up to the sound of a knock at your door. Confused, you slowly redirect your journey and turn to the front door. You peak through the peephole, to find the boy you've been in hysterics over for the past, well...however many hours.
He knocks again, this time a little louder.
Your mind starts racing, your heart begins to pound and you get that ever so familiar feeling of anxiety that rushes over you.
You shake your head in distress and you battle with your thoughts on what to do next...
"y/n...please, open the door... I know you're not asleep"
He's right, he knows you well enough to know your mind wouldn't allow you to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time when you're feeling upset.
You glance over to the couch where Madelyn still lays, her breaths slow and fall steadily.
You step a little closer to the door frame and lean your weight onto one side. "um, Drew...I-I really don't feel like speaking right now"
"please y/n, just open the door, let me explain myself... I- i've been shit I know and ...i'm sorry, can you just hear me out?" Drew utters through slight cracks in his voice.
Tears brim in your eyes as you listen through the door to the words that trail out of Drews mouth...you tilt your head back and gasp for air as you try and hold back your wave of emotions. You want to see him, you want to talk, but you feel like you're almost stuck, unable to think straight, you're not ready for the emotional baggage that a conversation like this would bring right now. You figure there's no real explanation on why Drew has treated you the way he has for the past couple of months, and no excuse for acting the way he had in the photos you'd seen, it all hurt you, and it was valid.
Your brain is scattered trying to figure out the right way to go about all of this...but almost before your mind could tell you no, your hand reaches for the hinges to unlock the front door.
your eyes lock together, and you can see Drews been crying, they're bloodshot and his eyebags slightly swollen. You look down at your feet as you quietly step outside the front door and into the apartment block hallway. "i've got to come out here, Madelyn's asleep..." you whisper slightly. Drew nods sheepishly.
as you close the door and shuffle your feet in front of Drew, you look up to him and fold your arms. "so?...you wanted to talk to me what do you want you want to say?" you question
"I just wanted to say i'm sorry, that I never meant to hurt you, you were right, I have been a dick, i've been scared and stressed and i've made some stupid decision I-"
"did you sleep with her?" you interrupt, you couldn’t truly hear drew out until you got off what was on your mind, you just needed to know first.
"huh?" He questions, his eyebrows burrowing slightly
"Did you sleep with her?" you utter through a passive tone
" I-what do you mean ?"
"Ive seen the fucking photos Joseph! did you. sleep. with her?" you exclaim, hands gesturing to emphasise your emotions.
"What? What photos y/n? I- I don't know what youre talking about?"
your heart skips a beat
The truth is, Drew hadn't looked on twitter, Drew hadn't seen the photos of you, or him, or her. He always kept his phone on do not disturb between the night and early morning. And when the realisation hits...you can't help but snap.
A small chuckle slips through your lips. "are you fucking kidding me drew?"` you spit " you really was going to come here, apologies and not be truthful about what happened last night, do you think im fucking stupid? look at your fucking phone!?"
But before Drew can get out his phone to check what youre talking about, you get out your own, shoving the image of him and another girl into his face. "this?" you state through gritted teeth.
Drews expression changes, his brows drop.
"anything to say? maybe the reason youve been such a dick is because youre fucking your co star huh?"
but before you could ask him once more, you notice his attention isn’t on you, but is drawn towards the floor
As you look down towards your bare legs, you notice drops of blood beginning to fall from in between, first slowly…then all at once.
cramping begins in your lower abdomen, however, it doesn't feel familiar, it feels uneasy…you begin to panic, facing drew with your hand now clamped over your mouth…
“what the fuck y/n, we- we have to get you to a hospital…”
a/n: pt3??????
@winterrrnight @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @leyla-1905 @dilvcv @abarleyexistentbeing @tringeorge @emmsyysstuff @missamericanablog @deadxrx @clearpoetryobservation-blog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @emotionsmgcbabe @aliciacat20
#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#fanfic#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#the other zoey#fluff#obx#rafe cameron fluff#angst drew#drew starkey angst#drew starkey x y/n#rafe obx#obx imagine#drew starkey obx
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hello my favorite star rail writer i am back bc i saw you reached 1k followers (CONGRATS BTW I DIDNT SEE EARLIER BC I STARTED CLASSES) and im a sucker for mutual pining its sickening to see two ppl so in love and blade, so blade + fluff prompt 10 would be amazing :D
extra points if mc isnt a fellow stellaron hunter, like in my head reader is sighing dreamily while march 7th is all "thats a wanted criminal"
❀ ˎˊ- prompts: You two have been pining over each other for God knows how long, and your friends are sick of it.
❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event
❀ ˎˊ- character: blade
❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none! just fluff :D
❀ ˎˊ- a/n: IM SORRY THE LAST PART MADE ME LAUGH SO BAD GOODBYE I LOVE THAT !!! also..... IT GOT KINDA CRACK IM SORRY GOODBYE IT'S LESS PINING MORE DAN HENG BEING DISAPPOINTED IN YOU
It wasn't often that Blade strayed outside the mission.
Just as the sword he wielded, Blade cut through his missions with precise cuts, following Elio's script like law. While Kafka and Silver Wolf would take liberties with their scripts, going off to shop or to fight, Blade stayed at his designated spot, staring blankly at the clock until he was called upon once more. He never did more, never did less.
So to see him gazing off into the distance, a hint of a smile on his face, was definitely out of the ordinary.
"What's on your mind, Bladie?" Kafka asked, her pupil-less eyes peering at her partner from behind her drink. "It's rare to see you so... restless. Has the mara been bothering you?"
Blade shook his head, a disgruntled sigh escaping him. His gaze reached past Kafka, focusing on the silhouette of your person as you chatted away with Dan Heng.
Kafka hummed, tilting her head as she played with her straw, mindlessly stirring her beverage. "Hm... Then is it them?"
Blade's fingers stilled. Kafka smiled, knowing she had hit the spot.
"So it is," she mused, stifling a giggle as Blade shot her an annoyed look.
"They're talking to him," Blade muttered, laying his hand flat against the table. Surprisingly, the mara did not strike, nor did Blade become irritated. His voice was gentle, soft like the breeze.
"Indeed they are," Kafka took a sip, licking her lips at the burn of alcohol. "Do you wish that was you, Bladie?"
Her teasing wasn't lost on the man, but he didn't bother with a reply.
"No," Blade murmured, resting his head in the palm of his hand. The artificial sunlight of the Xianzhou bathed you in a heavenly glow, your carefree laughter a sweet symphony. "I wouldn't dare disturb such beauty."
And yet, it seemed as though fate had glanced his way, just as you had. Your eyes met with his, and you smiled, waving at him. Blade's heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, life returned to him.
His hand twitched, wanting to return your greetings, but the rough drag of his bandages stopped him. Blade averted his gaze, hiding his slowly flushing skin behind his palm.
Kafka snickered at his predicament, quickly snapping a photo of his flustered state and sending it to the other Stellaron Hunters. Instantaneously, Silver Wolf sent back a vomiting emoji, while Sam excitedly congratulated Blade on his newfound emotions. Elio didn't reply, he never does.
"Aren't you adorable," she cooed, turning her phone off and tucking it away. "You know, I doubt they'll mind if you just walked up to them."
Yes, you certainly wouldn't mind. However, your very disturbed friends would.
"What are you doing?" Dan Heng hissed as you waved to the Hunter, grabbing your wrist and snatching it down. "You know how dangerous that man is."
"But isn't he so cute?" you chuckled, the tips of your ears flushed. "Besides, he hasn't done anything to hurt me yet."
"Yet being the operative word," Dan Heng sighed in exasperation. "I hope you didn't forget how he threw a sword through me."
"I try not to think about it." You stretched back your arms. "Don't get your tail in a twist, Dan Heng. I'm just being friendly."
"That's not what your face says," Dan Heng commented, poking your cheek. "I can still see you mooning over him."
"I am not- mooning over him!" you objected, swatting his finger away. "I was just... thinking."
"Of course you are. Thinking of the man who stabbed me, that is."
"And he looked good doing it- Dan Heng!" you yelped as Dan Heng elbowed you. Your friend only crossed his arms, raising a brow at you as you glared at him. "Alright, alright, fine. I just- I know I shouldn't like him, but..."
"There's a but in this?"
"His arms are really toned, okay? Have you seen his muscles?"
Dan Heng gagged, pretending to throw up over the railing. "Far closer than I'd like to admit- Point being, he's a wanted criminal."
You stared blankly at him. "So?"
Dan Heng stared back. "What do you mean, 'so'?"
"I can fix him."
The only words you could use to describe Dan Heng's face was pure disappointment. Swiftly, he turned on his heel, and promptly walked away from you, quickening his steps as you chased after him.
"Hey! Where're you going so quickly-"
Dan Heng stopped for only a moment, his expression unreadable as he glanced back at you. "I don't talk to people who kiss wanted criminals."
You held up a finger. "To be fair, I haven't kissed him yet-"
"I'm leaving."
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai blade#hsr blade#blade x reader#honkai blade x reader#hsr blade x reader#x reader#reader insert#y/n#archives 🏵️#event 🏵️
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.°˖✧ NSFW+SFW neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧
tags: NSFW!!!, dom!abby, strap on, size kink, semi-public car sex, recording the deed, undefined relationship, fluff? perhaps?, hickey giving, come to brazil
:: notes; basically miscellaneous headcanons and thoughts!! hope u enjoy<3 also, part two of the story-based headcanons is in the works, but i fear that it’ll be tooooo long:(
PART1 — PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC
• during your situationship era, just when you started to get close, abby and you would pick each other’s packages up. you both had expensive equipment shipped over often, so it was a welcome gesture.
• imagine your shocked face when you see a “nsfw, do not open in public!” stamp on one of these packages
• when you rip it open, and find a sleek black strap on (that’s way too big), you nearly cum on the spot. you could barely wrap your hand around it!
• of course, abby would make it fit, albeit with a bit of a struggle she secretly enjoyed, which is exactly why she ordered a bigger size. dr. anderson has a raging size kink!
• abby acts all cool and unbothered when you show her the love songs that you wrote about her. what you don’t see is her giggling and blushing red when she hears the same song in the hospital during her shift a few weeks later, blasting on the radio in the voice of some singer who you work with often
• on the other hand, hearing a more suggestive song she knows is about her will have the woman pulling the car over during a road trip and kissing you until you’re breathless; “backseat, on your knees”
• and suddenly you’re being fucked silly with her hand over your mouth and the other gripping your hips, as abby tries to angle the strap juuust right so that it pleases you both
• it took abby months to find out you were famous. honestly, nora probably told her.
• and she didn’t realize how famous you are until you started dating. kinda dawns upon her when you explain why people are commenting “come to brazil” on a photo of you holding hands, but she’s still pretty clueless
• she is the FIRST person to tell you that a sample or song or lyric sucks (“you know i love you but sweetheart… what is this?”), followed by a pat on the butt and a kiss on the cheek for trying
• she likes to help with lyrics but stays away from instruments and melodies, rightfully so
• accidentally pressed some random buttons when she was fucking you in your home studio once and recorded the whole thing. will send the audio to you randomly, followed by a formal “When will you be home, darling? :)”
• technologically illiterate. poor abs
• when you were still in that undefined phase of your relationship, abby would hate fuck you alll the time.
• singing loudly late into the night? she’s stuffing your red panties into your mouth to shut you up. back talking when she’s telling you off? suddenly you’re bent over her knee, spanked and edged into oblivion. having another party? abby already snuck in, trapping you in the bathroom until she’s had enough of your pussy
• abby herself has no idea why she’s hatefucking you 80% of the time. spoiler alert: it’s because of her repressed emotions towards you. abby doesn’t really date around imo and you showing up and flipping her life upside down was unexpected
• and tbh ellie doesn’t help with this; she’s a huge fan of your work, knows all the singers you work with and is always super nice to you whenever dina drags her along to your parties
• abby hates her. she becomes so much more affectionate towards you after she meets ellie: touching your shoulders and legs, wiping a crumb of food from the corner of your lips with her thumb, anything she can get away with basically
• makes you cum extra hard the night after she met ellie, making sure your neck and collarbones are bruised from her rough kisses and bites (and you’re not even dating yet, how scandalous!)
• she confessed first. horribly anxious and overdressed, abby showed up at your door with a bouquet of assorted flowers, that she chose based on their meaning, your favorite champagne and some sweets you liked. thoughtful, thoughtful gal
• if it was up to her, you would’ve u-hauled a loooog time ago, but she wants to give you space. still, you find yourself sleeping over 6 nights a week and daydreaming about matching rings. how odd!
• basically, you felt first, abby fell harder.
#abby anderson x you#abby anderson#abby x reader#abby anderson x y/n#abby the last of us#abby tlou#abby anderson x reader#abby x fem!reader#tlou#the last of us#wlw#sapphic#ellie williams
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Ahdjsksjsjkssb I love your Vox content and I was wondering if I could request a Vox x reader (preferably fem) who performs songs and dances online, they're like a big shot social media star(who's besties with Vel) and often ropes the Vees into making online content with her(games, dance challenges, reactions, etc. when they're free of course) and it's free PR that some sinners like watching because it's just funny to watch the 3 overlords + reader doing goofy shit. Bonus points if you write about sinners just #shipping Vox and Reader because they have good chemistry XD
A/N: I was listening to Circus by Britney Spears so I may have made the reader a little flirt :) Also this one's a little short so I apologize
Word count: 934
Social Sensation - Vox x Reader
“Vox!” You whined, clinging onto his leg. “No! I’m not letting you plug controllers into me so you can play video games for a video.” He groaned as he repeated himself for the fifth time.
“Vox! Please! The sinners! They want it!” You begged. “This one time and I won’t ask you for it again!”
He sighs, giving in just to get you to stop. And also because he knew you wouldn’t let go until he agreed. “Fine. You get 15 minutes.”
“...20?” You asked.
“Don’t push it.”
.
Vox had the most deadpan expression on his face while you were livestreaming on Voxstagram, completely unamused at the fact that there’s three different cords plugged into the back of his head. “Vox, put your fuckin’ face away! It’s throwing me off.” Velvette complained, having fallen off of the platform. The three of you were playing Super Smash, as per request of the audience. He groaned and hid his own face on his own screen.
You, Velvette and Valentino were screaming at each other during the whole game. “Valentino! Move your head out the way I can’t see!” You groaned. “Well I can’t fucking see either!” He yelled back, eyes squinting at the screen.
After what felt like forever to Vox, you win the game. You grabbed your phone and smiled, “Thanks for joining in you guys! I’ll see you all tomorrow for another stream!” You put an arm around Vox and put the camera on him. “A big thanks to Vox! For letting us use him for the game today!”
The comments were flooded with a bunch of thanks to Vox, cheering him on for being a real one and promising to buy more VoxTek devices. You signed off and ended the stream. Vox took out the cords with no hesitation as soon as you did. “That was not 15 minutes.” Vox squinted at you, arms crossed.
“I’m sorry, Voxy~” You giggled and laid your head on his lap, happily scrolling on your phone, “I got you more sales and I got more followers. A win-win!”
He huffed, “I get sales either way.” He was full on pouting now. You reached up and pinched the side of his screen, “Aw. Don’t be mad. You know you love me. Besides, you’ve been getting more sales ever since I started crashing here with you guys and you can’t tell me I’m wrong.”
For a brief second, you swore his usual blue screen started to fade into a red before going back to blue. “I guess you’re right on that.” He lets out a sigh and relaxes into the couch, “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I gotta go tomorrow to the Lust Ring.” You showed him a photo of the poster Asmodeus posted on his Voxstagram. “I’m performing!”
“The Lust Ring?!” His voice cracked before he cleared his throat, “That’s a…You’re gonna fine by yourself?”
“What?” You grinned cheekily, “You scared someone’s gonna fuck me there instead of you~” You teased as his screen turned a little red.
“What! No!” He huffed, “I was just wondering if you’d want an escort or something.”
“Aww. If you wanted to come with me, you could’ve just said so!” You giggled and got up.
“Don’t get it twisted! It’s for business.” He crossed his arms.
“Right.” You winked, “Business. Anyways I’ll see you there. Gotta meet up with Velvette for my new outfit.”
.
Vox sat in one of the seats closer to the front. He stayed on his phone during the other performances only putting it away after you were announced to come up next.
“And it’s my pleasure to announce our final performance for the night! The darling, Y/N!” Asmodeus stepped away from the spotlight as it shines on you.
You began your performance immediately making eye contact with Vox. A seductive smile on your face the whole time. You danced seductively while you sang. Vox didn’t take his eyes off of you, glued to your intoxicating display. His eyes followed your hands running up your hips and to your chest and through your hair. He was enamored.
.
Your performance went viral online, plenty of people talked about the dress Velvette made for you which boosted her sales making her very happy. Vox’s jaw dropped expression and your wink at him went crazy too, people shipping the two of you together.
“Vox!” You yelled, catching his attention, “The sinners loved the performance. I’m so glad you came and watched it!”
“Y-Yeah! It was amazing as always, my dear.” He grinned, “You’re very lovable, Y/N.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching you gleefully scroll through your phone.
You showed him the comments on your phone, “They love us too, baby~” You teased. He choked on his drink and looked at all of the people commenting under a picture of him staring at you on the stage. “I think you should give what the people and I want and go on a date with me.” You winked.
“A date?!” He coughed, “You want to go on a date with me?”
“For an allegedly smart overlord, you’re a little slow, huh?” You giggled and left him a kiss on his screen. “That show was for you. I’ll see you later tonight~” You snapped a photo next to him rebooting and posted it to your socials with ‘Told him we’re going on a date tonight! <3 Love ya @ Vox <3’ as the caption. Your comments were flooded with excited fans going insane over the development. You giggled and walked away, leaving Vox to deal with your confession by himself.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#vox hazbin hotel#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vees#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin hotel valentino
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Dirty Little Secret - part 1 (leila ouahabi x reader)
Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.
Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader
Part 1/?
———
It starts with a sliding tackle.
Arsenal are already three goals down against reigning champions Barcelona when your legs are knocked out from under you. You skid across the grass in a tangle of limbs with your opponent as the referee’s shrill whistle cuts through the air.
The culprit, Barcelona’s number fifteen Leila Ouahabi, is quick to her feet and already protesting in rapid Spanish. Fighting your case while you rub your sore ankle is the ever argumentative Katie, demanding a yellow card that the referee is happy to give. Ouahabi rolls her eyes, but must know she probably deserves it, because she walks back over to you and offers out a hand to help you back to your feet.
“Sorry,” she says, glancing down at your ankle as you put pressure on it and wince. “You okay?”
You take a few steps. It’s sore, but you’ll be able to walk it off pretty quickly. You clap her on the back to thank her for the help, then say, “Yeah, all good.”
———
After a 4-1 defeat there’s a long list of things you’d rather be doing than shaking the hands of the team that beat you, but it’s professional courtesy so you congratulate each of them in turn with minimal eye contact, just trying to get through it as quickly as possible.
Until you get to Leila. Playing opposite each other, she’s been marking you and frustrating you all game, culminating in that tackle that resulted in a sore ankle for you and a yellow card for her.
“Good battle,” she says, smirking at you.
The only consolation is that you caused her a fair bit of trouble too, even if the scoreline doesn’t show that.
“Yeah, you too.”
Your hand is still caught in hers, frozen mid-handshake, but you’re too lost in her dark eyes to notice.
“Sorry again about the tackle.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her. “No bad feelings.”
———
Later, when you’re back at the team hotel safely tucked up in bed as you wait for your roommate Katie to finish up in the adjoining bathroom, an Instagram notification lights up your phone.
leilaouahabi started following you.
You scramble to open the app and go straight to her profile. You don’t follow her yet either - to be honest you’ve never given her much thought until the match earlier this evening - and your thumb hovers over the screen but you decide not to follow her back tonight. You’ll do it tomorrow, maybe. You don’t want to seem too eager.
But then another notification pops up at the top of the screen.
leilaouahabi liked your post.
As you click the newest notification to see the picture in question, you realise two things - firstly that she’s liked something from two months ago, meaning that she’s had to scroll back through your profile to find it, and secondly that the photo is one of the rare ones you post that has nothing to do with football.
You’re wearing a pair of straight-legged trousers and a sleeveless crop top that shows off both your arms and your abs, dressed up to go out for dinner with a few of the other Arsenal girls just before pre-season, if your memory is correct. You look hot and that’s why you posted the picture, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, seeking out the approval of others too. At the time you thought that the flame and heart emojis your closest friends and teammates left in the comments below the photo were enough gratification, but maybe it was Leila’s name in black and white in the list of likes that you needed all along.
You might be reading too much into this, but the fact that she’s liked one of the only non-football things you’ve posted in the last few months is like she’s trying to send you a particular message.
What the hell? What have you got to lose? You play in different countries, different leagues. If you’ve got the signals wrong then the worst case scenario is that you give the Spanish girls something to laugh about and the reverse fixture in London in December might be a bit awkward. You’re prepared to deal with those consequences.
You tap the button to follow Leila back and open up a private message, ready to shoot your shot into the dark.
You
If you wanted me to fall for you there are better ways than a sliding tackle…
You exhale and set your phone aside, reaching for the pot of face cream on your nightstand, only for your phone to light up again almost instantly. Skincare routine forgotten, you open up Leila’s message.
Leila
Like what?
You can’t help but smile to yourself. While there’s nothing obviously flirtatious in her response, the fact that she replied at all, let alone replied immediately, is a positive sign.
You
I’m sure you can figure that out
Leila
When do you go home?
You curse the busy match schedule and the fact you have to return to England to prepare for another WSL game at the weekend, when nothing sounds more appealing right now than the chance for some downtime in Barcelona.
Especially if that downtime could be spent with an attractive girl.
You
Tomorrow morning
Leila
😔
You2 months until we play each other again… plenty of time for you to figure out a way to sweep me off my feet properly
“Who are you texting?” Katie asks, as she emerges from your en-suite bathroom.
“My mum,” you lie effortlessly.
“Listen,” Katie says, as she peels back the covers and climbs into her bed on the opposite side of the room, “I love my mam, but even I’ve never looked at my phone like that while texting her. But it’s fine, if you don’t want to tell me about your secret girlfriend that’s fine.”
“Fine, I was on Tinder,” you tell Katie, now that you’ve had a moment to think of a better lie. “Just thought I’d see what the options are like here in Barcelona.”
“And what are they like?”
You scroll mindlessly through Leila’s Instagram profile, tapping the heart icon to like a post when you come to a photo of Leila in a bikini posted during the summer, not-so-subtly conveying your interest in her, then joke, “Good enough to consider a January transfer.”
“Oh fuck off!”
———
You don’t actually speak to Leila in the two months between the match in Barcelona and the reverse fixture in London.
Your interactions on social media, nothing more than the occasional like on each other’s Instagram, are just enough to keep the intrigue up without turning it into a thing or alerting anybody else to the fact that a little spark has been ignited between the two of you.
You’re weirdly excited about the prospect of another difficult game against Barcelona and you know that at least part of that is down to the fact you’ll see Leila again. You’re curious how it will play out - the game itself and having to go up against someone you’ve made it clear you’re attracted to, but also any interactions you might have with Leila outside of that too. It’s very easy to like a picture on social media from a whole other country, but you have no idea if it can be turned into something off the pitch. Logistically, at the very least, you’re going to run into the same problem as before, only this time it’ll be Leila who is limited in how much freedom she gets by her travel schedule.
Although the result ends up being disappointing - a 4-0 defeat - you actually enjoy the game, if only for the battle against Leila. Something about the fact you fancy her and know that the attraction is mutual makes you want to show off for her a little bit, to prove you’re worthy of her interest, and every duel, every tackle, feels like it’s part of some drawn out foreplay. You’re deliberately more physical with her than you normally are against defenders, avoiding a yellow card but only just, but each push or shunt is a little reminder to her that you’re here.
“Good game,” you tell Leila after the match, bumping your fist against hers.
“Is there somewhere we can go?” Leila asks you in a low voice, wasting absolutely no time in getting straight to the point. “Somewhere private. To talk.”
Leila’s dark eyes briefly drop to your mouth, then back up, and you don’t think she’s got conversation on her mind.
You nod and say, “We can find somewhere.”
Jonas’s huddle only lasts two minutes at most but with your thoughts wandering, it feels like an eternity. After that, you deliberately stay out on the pitch longer than usual, signing things and taking photos with fans until most of your teammates have already gone inside, waiting so that there are as few people as possible to witness you trying to sneak away with Leila. When you do finally make your way towards the tunnel, you find Leila loitering near the entrance, kicking the mud off her boots as she waits for you.
You barely acknowledge her as you pass, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves, but let your hand brush against her arm to alert her to your presence as you enter the tunnel. You keep going, but instead of heading into the home dressing room, you push open a door to the right, turning your head to make eye contact with Leila who still stands in the tunnel, checking that she’s seen you, before you disappear down the hallway beyond. Thankfully there’s nobody around, but you move quickly, finding an empty equipment cupboard and waiting as Leila follows close behind, and you gesture for her to enter first before you step in after her and close the door.
“Hey,” you say breathily, finally feeling a little nervous now that you’ve got her alone. “You wanted to talk?”
“No,” Leila says, shaking her head. “No talking.”
She reaches for you, one hand on your waist as the other cupping your jaw, pulling you close as she dips her head to finally give you the kiss you’ve been dreaming about since the game in Barcelona.
———
“Where have you been?” Beth asks, as you return to the Arsenal changing room, slightly dazed from your encounter with Leila. You’d been hoping that nobody would notice your absence, but it seems like you were gone for just long enough to be suspicious.
“Catching up with a friend,” you answer as truthfully as possible, hoping that it’s not obvious to anybody who looks too closely that you’ve just been making out with someone.
You didn’t go all the way with Leila, breaking apart before things could escalate too far. You both agreed that the risk of getting caught was too great and you didn’t fancy having to explain to any of your teammates why you were helping a member of the team that just beat you 4-0 to celebrate that win with a quickie in a store cupboard, but it definitely got heated enough to leave you wanting more.
The problem is that you can’t have more. Tonight you’ll get on the team bus back to your flat in St Albans, while Leila stays at the Barcelona team hotel in London, only to fly back to Spain in the morning. And who knows when you’ll get the chance to see each other again? At least after the first game you knew there would be a second. But unless Arsenal and Barcelona end up facing each other again later in the competition, you might not even be in the same country as Leila until the Euros next summer, when you’ll both have far more important things on your minds.
If there’s one way to send yourself crashing back to reality after the thrill of a clandestine kiss, it’s this realisation.
“What’s bummed you out?” Katie asks, sending your bad mood as she takes a seat in the cubby next to yours, wrapped in only a towel.
“Do you enjoy losing four-nil?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.
“No, fair point,” Katie concedes. “Thank fuck we don’t have to play them again though, right?”
You hum absently in agreement. Right now, your brain still clouded from the delirium of being kissed, you’d take another four-nil loss, just for another moment of privacy with Leila.
But that’s not going to happen.
You’re sad right now but you’ll get over it. In a few days you’ll be able to look back at this with fondness, maybe even laugh to yourself about the desperation of almost hooking up with an opponent in the stadium after a game.
Not yet, but in time.
In hindsight, you’d come to realise how stupid you were for ever believing you could move past this night with your emotions intact.
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- Over the limits -
MIYAWAKI SAKURA x FEM!READER
Prompt: Your girlfriend is usually a patient, calm, and quiet person, even during sex. That’s when you decided you wanted a little change. With the advice of Chaewon, Yunjin, and Kazuha, your plan of making Sakura jealous goes better than you expected.
Warnings/Notes: G!P Sakura, dom Sakura, degradation, biting, Sakura is scary but hot when angry, subby reader, jealous Sakura, cute Sakura at the end
———
“What’s with the frown, Y/n-ie?” Chaewon asks, noticing the way you were laying down on the living room couch as if your life was entirely ruined.
“I don’t know how to properly explain it Unnie” Your frowned deepened and the leader took your hand.
“Is it something about Sakura Unnie?”
You slowly nodded and Chaewon hummed. “Why don’t we go upstairs and talk to Kazuha and Yunjin too? They’re great at giving advice”
Feeling your heart soften, you mumbled a small ‘ok’ before going upstairs into Yunjin’s room where Kazuha was already seated on the floor, playing on her switch. Yunjin was on her bed, fiddling with the strings of her guitar.
“Hey girls, private meeting needed” Chaewon explained, locking the door.
“How about Eunchae and Kkura Unnie?” Kazuha asked, placing her switch to the side.
“Eunchae is out with Bahiyyih and Kkura is at Yena’s place” Chaewon responded as she got you to sit down on Yunjin’s study chair, making sure you were facing the 3 girls.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Yunjin asked, looking between you and the leader.
“I just had something on my mind lately in regards to Sakura and I need advice” You began explaining and Yunjin gasped.
“Don’t tell me you want to break up with her..” the American whispered.
You rolled your eyes and threw one of her plushies at her face. “No not that you loser!”
“Ow!”
“It’s not that big of a deal to be honest, I just need some…help?”
The three looked at you like a lost puppies before nodding at you to continue speaking. You took a deep breath. “So last night Sakura and I had sex”
“Charming” Yunjin commented, making you throw another plushie at her direction which she dodged.
“Anyways, it was nice as usual. She’s gentle, always telling me she loved me, going slow and whatever”
“But?” Chaewon arched her brow.
“It’s getting kind of boring, you know…all the vanilla stuff. I don’t know how to tell Sakura she’s not being dominate enough. Like I want it rough, I want her to really lose control. Main question I wanna ask is, how do I ask her to do that without hurting her feelings? She’ll think she’s not a good girlfriend”
The three girls exchanged each other looks before Yunjin spoke up. “In that situation Y/n, you just gotta…bring the rough side out of Kkura”
“What do you mean?”
“My best bet is to make her jealous. Sakura Unnie may seem calm but she’s quite possessive when it comes to you. Choose anyone you like and just flirt and flirt until your girlfriend can’t handle it anymore” Yunjin continued.
“Then you’ll get a good fucking for sure” Kazuha winked, making your face heat up at the thought of Sakura losing control.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Who can I choose?” You asked the girls who smirked.
“Choose Kazuha. She’s quite good at acting” Chaewon suggested, Kazuha nodding.
“How should we start it?”
“Oh don’t stress so much, Y/n. Just go with the flow. I’m sure Zuha has something planned” Yunjin shrugged, smile widening after hearing the dorm entrance open.
“I’m home!” Sakura yelled out and your heartbeat quickened.
“Relax, okay? Let’s go downstairs and we can worry about this tomorrow” Kazuha whispered and you nodded shyly in response.
———
The following day, your group had another photoshoot to further advertise your merch. This time, you did it in pairs:
- Eunchae and Chaewon
- Sakura and Yunjin
- You and Kazuha
The first two pairs had already did their round of duo photos so they were sitting in the back, taking a break whereas you and Kazuha were in front of the cameras, waiting for instructions from the camera director.
“You doing alright?” Kazuha whispered closely to your ear, knowing Sakura was looking at the two of you.
“A bit nervous from yesterdays talk”
“Don’t overthink it, okay? Let’s take advantage of this shoot, she’s already staring” the younger Japanese member informed.
“Kazuha-ssi, Y/n-ssi let’s begin! I’d like to try something different this time. Kazuha-ssi could you please stand behind Y/n-ssi, both of you facing the front” The man directed and you both nodded while adjusting your position.
Being the shortest member in the group meant you always had to be positioned in front.
“Alright, Kazuha-ssi, please have your hands on Y/n-ssi’s waist. Like a couple pose!”
You gulped at the order and looked at Kazuha who winked at you. Sakura wasn’t fond of the new idea this director came up with but she decided to bite her tongue.
“Unnie you’re squeezing my hand a bit too hard” Eunchae winced, the eldest blinking and immediately letting go of the maknae’s hand.
“Sorry Eun, got lost in thought”
“It’s okay. Kazuha and Y/n look good today don’t you think! Their merch outfits are almost matching” The youngest told with a huge smile and baby applause.
Sakura huffed and returned her eyes to you and the other Japanese member, realising that Eunchae was right. Both you and Kazuha were wearing baggy jeans that were unbuttoned and unzipped to display the Le Sserafim ‘panties’ (quoted by their leader last shoot). Kazuha wore the Le Sserafim black bra top while you wore the white version.
The cameras flashed for a few seconds before the director spoke up again. “Those were nice but Kazuha-ssi I need you to lean your face closer to Y/n-ssi’s neck. Right now it looks a bit too awkward”
“Yes director-nim” Kazuha responded and did what she was told, feeling her own heart quicken as Sakura’s glare never left her and you.
“Not gonna lie, I’m starting to feel threatened” Kazuha whispered, making you giggle.
“Did you tell director-nim our plan or something? He’s really going all out for these photos”
“I swear we didn’t say anything” Kazuha laughed with you.
“What are they possibly laughing about?” Sakura bluntly asked, arms folded over her chest with annoyance.
Chaewon caught on the jelly leader and smirked. “Jealous are we, Kkura Unnie?”
“No, I’m not like that. There’s just no need for them to be laughing during a photoshoot”
“Zuha is the funniest member after all”
“She’s not that funny”
Chaewon shrugged and watched your photoshoot continue.
“Ok let’s do one last pose. Kazuha-ssi could you please lie down on the ground with Y/n-ssi sitting on top of you” The director told, surprising all the members.
“I’m sorry, what?” You tilted your head with wide eyes.
“Y/n-ssi sit on her thighs and have your hands resting on Kazuha-ssi’s stomach”
Kazuha sent you a look before she laid down and you hesitantly followed, sitting on her and placing your hands on her gorgeous abs. “Am I putting too much pressure on your legs, Zuha ya?” You softly asked, looking down at her.
Kazuha was mad blushing at the position. “No, you’re fine. Just a bit awkward..”
“Kazuha-ssi please hold Y/n-ssi’s wrist and both of you look at the camera-“
An aggressive thud was heard in the back and all attention turned to Sakura who was already packing her bags. Her chair had skidded and fallen from the rough push she gave it when standing up. “I’ll be waiting in the van” She coldly said before pushing her way out the doors.
The rest of you looked at each other with fear, knowing that the eldest should never be messed with but you were proud to see that the plan worked.
It didn’t take too long for you all to change to your normal clothes and head home where Sakura was dead silent during the car ride. When the van stopped at the dorms, Chaewon spoke up “Yunjin, Kazuha, Eunchae and I need to attend separate interviews. We’ll see you two later, okay?”
Sakura nodded and was the first to hop out the van as you gave Chaewon, Kazuha and Yunjin a look.
“You’ll be fine, just text us if you need anything” Yunjin winked.
“Wait what’s going on?” Eunchae asked with curious eyes, looking between all her Unnies.
Chaewon opened a bag of chips and shook it in the youngest’s face. “No questions. Eat this”
“Chippies!” Eunchae smiled widely and happily took the snacks before returning to her seat.
“Seriously Y/n, everything will be fine. Don’t forget to take birth control” Kazuha giggled, making your heart stop for a second.
You sighed and left the van before following your pissed girlfriend into the dorm. You went upstairs to your separate room and placed your bags on your makeup table before you felt a body aggressively trap you, the person’s hands gripping on the edge of your table to the point their knuckles turned white.
“Did you enjoy your little couple photoshoot with Zuha, baby?” Sakura whispered hotly in your ear while she grinded her painful bulge into your clothed ass.
“K-Kura…”
“Was it fun? Hm?” She bit your neck, making you moan.
“Was it fun sitting on Zuha when you could be sitting on me with my huge cock deep in your tight cunt? Or was it because my cock wasn’t good enough for you to fuck yourself with?”
Your eyes rolled back at her words. This was exactly what you wanted.
“N-No, baby, it was just for the photos I swear!” You whined, her hands gripping your waist, her nails digging into your skin.
“You’re mine Y/N. You’re. Fucking. Mine. Got that?” She growled, moving down to suck a nice dark hickey onto your neck. Satisfied with the look of it, she spun you around and forced your lips together.
Your hands moved to wrap around her neck and pull her closer while in your mind, all you thought of was ‘yes finally!’
“You’re gonna regret everything that happened today. For now, you can try and gain my forgiveness by sucking my cock like a good girl. Are you a good girl, baby?” She moved one hand to cup your chin and force you to look up at her.
You nodded. “Y-Yes I’m a good girl…”
“On your knees then, slut” (A/N: DONT GOTTA TELL ME TWICE 🧎🏻♀️)
And you did straight away.
“Need to remember who you fucking belong to” Sakura said through gritted teeth as she untied her sweatpants and pushed it down with her boxers to her lower thighs, exposing the monster cock already oozing out precum.
You looked at it with sparkling eyes.
“I’m not gonna cum with you staring at it, will I? Put that mouth to good use like a good little bitch”
You whimpered at the degrading words and engulfed as much length as you could into your mouth, tears escaping your eyes from the stretch. You felt your girlfriend run her hand through your hair and applying a tight grip, forcing you to take her deeper.
“F-Fuck” You heard her grunt that sent a jolt to your stomach.
You started moving your head at a faster pace, feeling Sakura’s grip get tighter on your hair as her hips started to automatically move. You started to feel her tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag a little bit and Sakura sent a small evil chuckle.
“Too big for you, baby? Just wait until it’s in your small little pussy. Gonna stretch you out so good and fill you up with my cum. You like that wouldn’t you, baby? Being my personal little cum dump”
You managed to nod despite having your mouth full and Sakura decided to pull her cock away before she could cum. A string of saliva connected your tongue to her twitching tip, causing the ache in your pussy to intensify.
“As much as I’d love to make a mess on your face, I want my cum inside your pussy instead” Your girlfriend said in a low voice before laying down on the bed, making a ‘come here’ motion with her hand.
You crawled on the bed and Sakura nodded her head at her standing dick. “Sit”
No daring to think twice you hovered yourself onto her lap and your older girlfriend aligned her tip at your entrance. “Fucking pissed me off seeing you sit on top of Kazuha like that. Did you want her dick more than mine?”
You shook your head in panic, keeping your balance by holding onto Sakura’s broad shoulders. “No baby, I only want your dick”
“Damn fucking right you do. You’re not riding anyone’s cock other than mine, got that?” Sakura growled and pushed you down onto her entire length, your back arching in response.
“Fuck Kkura!”
Sakura dove into your chest, marking it as much as she could before continuing her trail of hickies to your collar bones. Her hands rested on your hips and forced you to ride her in a harsh motion.
“You’re so big, oh my god! Fuck yes!”
It was painful but also felt so fucking good. She planted her feet flat on the bed and bucked her hips up with each motion you gave. Popping her lips away from your skin, you looked down and she leaned her lips super close to your own, her minty breath fanning you.
“Fuck you feel so good around me, princess. Don’t make me catch you slutting around with the others, yeah? Or else I’m gonna have to keep teaching you a lesson”
You were close to telling her that you wouldn’t mind it as long as the rough sex kept happening but that could be used for another time.
Your screams filled the entire dorm and you couldn’t care less if the walls broke down, as long as Sakura’s cock was still hitting you deep into your womb, there was nothing else you could’ve wanted.
“Shit the girls are gonna come back soon, I need to make this quick” Your girlfriend huffed before flipping the position so she was on top.
She spread your legs wider and pounded into you mercilessly, your throat starting to hurt from the sinful noises you released. “Fuck fuck fuck, baby I’m gonna cum!” You cried, Sakura leant down to bite your neck and your hands went to claw at her milky back.
“God, that’s it, baby. Take all of me”
“K-Kura!”
The taller girl used one hand to rub your clit as her cock abused your insides, feeling her start to swell. “Gonna cum with you, princess. Take it, baby, fuck!” You heard her groan the same time you screamed her name for the last time.
The burning sensation in your stomach left and all you could feel was the gush of cum that filled you up so much that it escaped your entrance. Sakura gently pulled out and smiled at the mess.
She pulled the sheets over both your bodies and got you to lie down on top of her, letting your head rest in the crook of her neck. “You okay?” You heard her gently ask.
Soft Sakura was back
“More than okay. That was the best sex we ever had”
“Sorry I lost control. I was just so upset seeing you with Kazuha and that stupid photoshoot. I didn’t mean to be jealous I-“
“Baby, stop it’s okay. Having you lose control like that was so hot. Should do it more” you smiled at her.
“Is my soft side too boring?” Sakura pouted.
You found it hard to believe that this was the girl that had just rearranged your guts a few minutes ago.
“No no no, babe. I just think we should try different things sometimes” You responded, cupping her jaw.
“Do you have anything in mind?”
“I have a few…” Your innocent smile slowly formed into a smirk before you went to check your phone notifications.
‘Eunchae’s interview got held back a bit longer so will be home late. Everything okay there?’ Yunjin messaged.
“Perfect” you said to yourself before throwing your phone away, unbothered to reply to Yunjin.
“Perfect what?”
“Perfect amount of time to do another round” You bit your lower lip and pushed the sheets off.
“W-What?”
“How about blowing my back out, baby?” You winked at her but you noticed the slight concern in Sakura’s eyes.
“But bubby, my peepee hurts…” She squeaks with a pout and huge puppy eyes.
You couldn’t believe your ears right now. What happened to the Daddy Sakura?
“We only went for one round!”
“A HARD ONE ROUND TO BE EXACT! If we go again, my peepee gonna falllllll!”
“Suck it up! I’ve been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this. You gonna shove that dick in me or what?”
“Okay…”
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The Grommr Profile of Dorian Grey
Dorian finished the last chicken wing, delicately wiping his hands with a napkin, before dabbing at the sides of his mouth. “And one hundred!” He beamed at the camera, and rubbed his middle, not-so-subtly lifting his t-shirt to reveal taut, flat six-pack abs. “Guess that will sort me until dinner,” he said with a wink to his audience.
He looked at the comments on his livestream. Most were in awe, as usual, at how much he could eat while maintaining his stick-thin figure and classically handsome good looks. Others, frustratingly, accused him of being a fake - of using some contraption or camera trickery to make the food disappear, of editing in CGI food, of bullimia. He'd done live shows, week-long streams, streams in nothing but his boxers, but nothing would ever convince some of his viewers.
One in particular caught his attention: lol, why are you all commenting like he'll respond? everyone knows he films these over like a week and then edits it together after
Dorian gritted his teeth. “Actually, user WelcomeToMyFistedMind, comment at fifteen thirty-two and eighteen seconds, this is very much live. And actually, I don't think I am done quite yet.” He stood and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a box of two dozen donuts he'd bought for tomorrow's stream. He sat back down and pushed the first one into his mouth, grinning around the custard that oozed out.
Forty-five minutes and twenty-four donuts later, Dorian flashed one last smug grin at the camera and closed twitch. He leant back, lifted up his t-shirt and ran his fingers lazily up and down his treasure-trail, following the center line between his abdominals. Despite the literal pounds of food he'd eaten in the last couple of hours, his stomach was as flat as ever, his twinkish frame showing none of the effects of the food he ate day in, day out.
His channel, MukbangBangYoureDead, had exploded in viewers ever since he started it a few years ago, until he was now one of the most famous mukbangers on the internet. He could not only eat more than all of his competitors, he made it look easy, and all without gaining a pound.
Of course, he had something that they didn't - the deal. He'd been hesitant at first, didn't believe the strange visitor that had come to him one night could or would deliver on its promises. But here he was, years later, making tens of thousands of pounds a month, all without consequence.
Thinking about the deal, he opened Grommr on his phone and brought up his profile. He whistled as he saw the updated weight - 576 pounds. He'd been flirting with 570 for a while now, and was pleased to see how far he'd stepped over that threshold. Time, he thought, for an update for his loyal fans on that platform too.
He pulled his trousers off and threw them to the side, leaving his t-shirt on. He walked to the mirror and admired his toned, pencil-like legs, his lightly muscled arms, the way his t-shirt draped from broad shoulders and tight pecs over his narrow waist, and his large bulge constrained by a designer jock-strap in bright yellow. He raised his phone up and took a picture, and proceeded to take his shirt off. He raised one hand to a lightly-haired pec and gave it a squeeze as he took a second picture. Finally, he lay down on his bed, snaked some long-slender fingers into his waistband, and raised his phone to take another photo from above.
He uploaded the pictures to Grommr without even looking at them - he knew there'd be no point, that they'd look completely different in just a moment or two. They appeared one by one as they uploaded.
Each showed a behemoth of a man. In the first the man stood in a mirror, wearing a t-shirt that cut into fat hanging from his sides and strained to cover large, pendulous breasts. His gut hung out and down, covering his genitals - a small pop of yellow beneath his love handles was the only hint that he was wearing any underwear. The man's face was huge and round, his features almost amorphous. Small, piggy eyes sat above bulbous cheeks, which merged into a ring of fat around his head, his chin a mere dimple in the fat around his neck. Even in the still image, it was clear that the man's arm was straining against its own weight to hold the phone up.
The next photo was much the same. The same morbidly obese figure stood in the same mirror. This time, the pitifully small t-shirt had been discarded to reveal cascading flesh hanging to the side, lying on the mountainous belly. One hand grasped one of the tits, bloated fingers digging into the soft flesh.
In the next, the figure was laid prone. Gravity had pulled down on the soft flesh and caused it to drop down and pool around the figure. The moobs lifted up towards the man's non-existant neck and chin, his gut spread out, his face expanded in all directions. New rolls and folds had formed - where arm met shoulder, where joints bent, or where his gut bunched up against itself. In the brighter lighting, painfully red stretch marks bloomed across the man's skin, circling his thighs, his love handles like loaves, across his dropping breasts. The man's left hand struggled to reach around his gut to grasp at the waistband of a straining jock strap, within which a small bump suggested some long-forgotten nub of a cock, sunk deep within the fat that spilled out around the underwear’s pouch. The man’s face was red, and seemed to strain as he struggled to maneuver his own flesh.
Dorian watched on in boredom as the first few comments rolled in. The usual adoring fans, begging to know the secrets to his titanic weight, proclaiming they’d soon look the same, asking to meet up. He would wait until a few of his regulars sent their customary tips, then go on with the rest of his day. In the meantime, a couple of the comments caused a smile to spread across his angular face.
MayContainDonuts: MealWithTheDevil looking great as ever! I don't know what it is, but he always looks so much like that one mukbang guy? Obviously fatter, but just the eyes and nose and stuff? I wonder if they're related?
BloatGoat: Do you mean MukbangBangYoureDead? If you can find some of his old photos the resemblance is uncanny. People used to think they were the same person but obviously not. Definitely could be related!
Dorian smirked and went to close the app, stopping only to check a small notification that popped up at the top of his screen. There would be routine server maintenance the next day, and the site would be down for around eight hours, starting mid-morning for the UK.
Dorian sighed. He hated server shutdowns, and this would be the longest he'd experienced yet. Still, he had a while to prepare. He'd have to cancel some lunch plans, but he could make up some lie about being ill. He got dressed, stood up and left to go buy enough food for tomorrow.
Dorian paced around his flat nervously the next morning. He checked his watch - 10:01. He quickly tried to bring up Grommr - sure enough, he was met with an error message about the server being down. It would start soon enough.
The first sign of it was his t-shirt. Previously loose, after about five minutes he found he was having to fuss with it to get it to sit right. another five minutes and it had begun riding up around puffy lovehandles and a firm paunch, while his sweatpants were starting to slip down an expanding rear. Another ten minutes and he took the t-shirt off, freeing a large beer gut that bounced when he walked. His sweatpants had grown almost skin tight around hefty thighs and would soon be too tight for comfort. He knew that this was only the start.
The hunger started then; sickly, stabbing pains in his newly expanded gut. He put two pizzas in the oven and sat with a donuts while he waited, knowing that soon his body, and his appetite along with it, would soon be able to accommodate all the food.
Just under thirty minutes in, Dorian's gut started to rest on his lap when he sat. He leant back, the swollen sack of fat at his middle dragging along his lap as he did so, and his cock began to harden. He reached a hand up to scratch the pink stretch marks beginning to form below his budding moobs.
While stuffed to the point of breathlessness just five minutes before, his stomach was still expanding, and he could feel the gnawing hunger begin to creep back in. He belched and stood, tottering slightly at the near-total shift in center of gravity since he’d sat down. He peeled off his sweatpants, struggling past his wide arse and flabby thighs, then gathered as much food as he could in his arms, using the top of his gut as a shelf and cautiously made his way back to his sofa, where he collapsed down, put on a trashy movie, and continued to eat.
Dorian continued to grow as his pile of junk food diminished. He savoured the feeling of soft, supple skin sliding past skin as he swelled - his growing tits pouring out onto his behemoth gut, his underbelly coursing forwards across rotund thighs dimpled with cellulite, his fat pad oozing around his perpetually hard dick. He knew to wait though; the bigger he was, the hotter his eventual orgasm would be.
Dorian looked down and surveyed himself. His body was beginning to be defined by rolls upons rolls. He estimated himself to be around the size he reached last time there was some server downtime; his profile had put on at least a hundred pounds since then. He lifted a heavy arm and used a hand to probe his plush flesh, sighing at the way his newly chubby fingers sank into the fat.
Still, the hunger increased. Dorian tried to lean forward to grab his phone, but found his own sheer bulk resisted him, pushing him back. He spread his legs and allowed his gut to fall down between them, the shift pulling his body forward in his seat and causing a dull ache in his lower back. He picked up his phone and with clumsy sausage-like fingers brought up a delivery app. He allowed instinct and hunger to take over - spring rolls, beef, chilli beef, sweet and sour chicken, duck pancakes, chilli chips, everything he saw he was ravenous for. He'd not been this big before and the hunger was deep. He pressed order, only briefly worrying about how he'd answer the door when he had no clothes that could hope to fit him.
Dorian’s body continued to expand. There was an alienness to his new size; his thighs had to splay around his hanging gut, his arms sat uncomfortably on top of thick pillows of fat at his sides, each joint filled with lard, and most of all was the awareness of gravity, how it pulled at his body and how his body answered in kind by dropping down and down.
Half an hour of nagging hunger later, his doorbell rang. He threw himself forward, but fell back to the sofa. Even that unsuccessful effort left him winded. He rolled to the side, fat cascading over fat as he did so, and staggered to stand sideways, his arms shaking as he heaved with all his might against the sofa. He grabbed a blanket and draped it over him; it barely covered his torso, but it was the best he could do.
How had he never realised how easy walking was before? Now, every step needed to be purposeful and required a conscious effort to propel his weight forwards. He had to wheel each thigh out and around past the other, each one a lead weight to be lifted. Dorian reached the door panting and sweaty, his hips burning with the beginnings of pain. The delivery driver looked on in shock, and then in slow horror. Dorian didn't care, he just grabbed his bags and slammed the door, before making his slow way back to his seat.
As he fell back, the sofa made a loud crunching sound and he felt himself sink deep into the cushions. He shuffled over the other side as best he could, each movement sending shockwaves across his body. He piled his bags into the crater left on the other side of the sofa and ate directly out of them, the table now wholly unreachable.
Dorian suspected he stopped growing around the time that he'd finished his food. If nothing else, the hunger had stopped. His torso had become a series of rolls, each one wrapped around his entire body and piled on top of the next. His limbs had become huge sacks of flesh, spreading out beneath him, the only evidence of his joints small, soft dimples in the thick casing of his body.
Dorian knew he'd waited long enough now. He pushed a stubby paw into the deep fold underneath his gut, reaching for the hard nub of his cock not yet swallowed by his fat pad. It was no use however, the heavy weight of his belly pressing down and closing off his own groin from himself. He leant to the side and spread his thighs, freeing up access and shifting his weight off from his lap, but still his fingers had to squirm past sweaty flesh into the small crevice left of his crotch. He grasped at the hard head of his cock, finding it in a shallow depression of flab nestled in dense pubes. With two fingers he did his best to jerk himself off, but to no avail - there was simply not enough cock left and not enough space to handle it in. Desperate for release he began to thrust, rocking his pelvis back and forth, so that the thick shaft of his penis slid within his own blubber, fucking his own body. He closed his eyes and ignored the tortured groans of the sofa below him as his pleasure grew. It only took a few minutes for him to cum, semen coating his fat pad and thighs as he yelled out.
Dorian slumped back, gasping for air, and exhausted, drifted off into a sleep.
When he woke up, it was dark. He could still feel the weight of his body pulling down. This wasn't right. As slow as it took for the weight to pile on, usually it melted away in seconds once the servers were back online, which should have happened hours ago. He checked the time - 23:24. Had something gone wrong?
He checked Grommr - the site was back up. He tried to log in - nothing. App - no. Browser - no. He tried to type his password in again, fat fingers mashing against the keyboard so that he had to try again slowly, deliberately. Nothing worked. He felt his heart pounding somewhere beneath his bosom.
Finally, he noticed an email in his inbox.
Grommr admin team - lost profile
During our recent scheduled server update, a small number of user profiles were unfortunately lost. We are sorry to tell you that your profile was one of those that we have not been able to recover. We are doing everything we can to recover lost profiles, but we are sadly not…
Dorian stopped reading. He looked down at the acres of flesh that were now his body. He lifted an arm up and let it fall, watching it shake and wobble in the dim light. What would he tell his family? His friends? His fans? This couldn't be happening.
Through his panicked breathing and heavy heartbeat, another feeling began to grow - Dorian Grey was beginning to feel hungry.
#weight gain#gainer story#gainer fiction#male weight gain#gaining fiction#weight gain fiction#weight gain story#wg story#im very proud of the grommr usernames#the grommr profile of dorian grey#the title came to me out of no where and i knew i needed to write it#no offence intended to any grommr admins#im sure you dont regularly need to shut down the servers for 8 hours at a time or randomly lose profiles
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What do you think it would be like if primarchs used social media?
Lion El'Jonson:
Private account, doesn't accept follower requests
Rarely posts, usually just sunset or forest photos
Uses emojis sarcastically in replies
Has 20 followers but thinks it's way too many
Fulgrim:
Aesthetic pictures pose artfully depict exotic hobbies and runway couture
Filters all photos to perfection
Constantly debates high art vs pop culture
Thirst traps cause monthly massacres
"Like for a follow back 🔥"
Perturabo:
Photos are exclusively poorly-lit fortress blueprints
Bio is 25000 character treatise on siege tactics
Follows exactly 12 history scholars
Hates everyone and everything on the site
Actually ran some incisive political commentary bots before being banned
Jaghatai Khan:
Only posts the sickest motocross and extreme sports clips
Videos have insane views but no captions
Fans think he's a cryptid until rare livestreams
Hijacks Fulgrim's comments to hype rad stunts
Leman Russ:
Changed his name to 'Wolf Daddy 🐺'
Shirtless hunting/drinking photos get 10K likes
Roasts everyone in comments but they love it
Followers think he's a viking hipster meme page
Follows biker gangs, sled dog accts, scholars of old Terra
Rogal Dorn:
Only posts are architectural blueprints and records of fortifications
Gets into epic debates about structural principles in comments
No one knows if he actually loads new content or just archives old
Somehow gains tons of followers thirsting for DILF
Konrad Curze:
Pure darkness and screams in hazy JPEGs
3 followers and they're all bots
Posts disturbing ‘prophecies’ and murder puzzles
Under investigation for doxxing
Sanguinius:
Angelic selfies bring all the followers to his page
Flowing locks and golden abs get 20K likes instantly
Quotes poetry in every reply but no one understands
Only follows animal shelter and children's hospital accounts
Ferrus Manus:
Only follows engineering/robotics pages
Posts heavily filtered machine shop mini-documentaries
Photos of custom machines that make engineers weep
Comments are unintelligible techno-babble
Somehow gains huge gym bro following thirsting for muscle
Angron:
Gets banned monthly for graphic content and abuse
Posts angry rants about society in broken caps
Got suspended after sending death threats to Guilliman
Only follower is Khârn who comments 'THIS' on everything
Roboute Guilliman:
Shares updates on the latest Codexes
Only follows serious history/philosophy lecture pages
Posts long analyses of governance strategies
Constantly lectures others in comments
Has blocked half his followers for trolling
Mortarion:
Aesthetic is grimy gas mask selfies in back alleys
ONLY reposts plague doctor memes from 2003
Bio is endless copypasta about essential oils
Gains cult following of goths, metal heads and preppers
Magnus:
Endless livestreams talking about theoretical magic at 3AM with 2 viewers.
Tries making TikToks explaining sorcery but the videos are an hour long each.
Overexplains memes and emojis in long-winded threads
Memes and facts threads blow up as the most esoteric
Horus Lupercal:
Selfies showing off abs get him 50K followers in a week
Posts stunning photos from across the Imperium with #blessed captions
Fan club is half the mankind
DMs from people asking for selfies blow up his notifications
Lorgar Aurelian:
Aesthetic is dark robes and candlelit monasteries
Constantly reposting zealot sermons out of context
Accidentally starts wars of faith whenever he livestreams
Got suspended for uploading hardcore Slaneeshi hymns
Still has 10 alt accounts all named Brother [REDACTED]
Vulkan:
Only follows puppy accounts and craft bloggers
Posts Happy Holiday baking tutorials and dad jokes
Likes and comments positivity on everyone's posts
Followers think he's the nicest DILF ever online
Secretly the biggest wholesome meme page
Corvus Corax:
Only darkness, shadow puppets and cryptic poems
No one knows if he's real or a myth on the deep web
Internet detectives can’t trace his true identity
Only sends encrypted coordinates in mysterious DMs
No one has any idea what he's trying to say
1 follower is Alpharius who only replies 'No, I'm Alpharius'
Alpharius/Omegon:
Constantly pretending to be other online
No one knows their true forms or agenda
Takeovers of government sites spark conspiracies
Leaves clues implicating everyone else’s schemes
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people like us
pairing: steve harrington / eddie munson
summary: Five times Amanda Driscoll hears about Mr. Harrington’s wife and the One time she realizes it’s his husband.
warnings: some angst in #4 and a slight coming out (to herself) arc, hinted at homophobia (nothing explicit)
word count: 7.5k
a/n: (10/18/2023): a little after a year from the original post date, i decided to go back and edit it. it's still the same story any rereaders know, but all the little plot holes and issues have been fixed and there's 200 more words to read! thank you for reading <3
(og note): this is based off of this post i made! i will be doing a second part to this that follows eddie's bandmates and meeting steve! i hope you enjoy and any feedback, likes, reblogs, comments, ask, are all appreciated!
Read it on AO3
taglist: @zed-zeppeli @valenschmidt @expectocrucio @rel312 @jonathanbyersbbg @beeing-stuupid @ataztuv @noahzanehethey @ludabug @mavernanche @casualherolightbailiff @purplebellybell @phenomenal-bird @persephone13 @gleefully-macabre @darkqloszed @the-baby-goblin @aryanightshade @jojobeaner @specialagentslut-24 @goodomensgurl
1. Monday, August 21st, 1995
Amanda was not one to be late, especially on the first day of school. Her steps echoed in the empty hallway as she rushed to her first period class. In one hand she held a tardy slip. In the other was a ripped piece of notebook paper detailing her homeroom class in smudged blue ink.
Mr. Harrington
U.S. History
Room 114
Having lived in Hawkins her whole life, she’d been attending the same middle school her older sister and both parents attended. This made her rather familiar with the staff at Hawkins Middle and yet she hadn’t recognized Mr. Harrington’s name. Reaching her classroom, she grabbed the handle and pushed it open.
All the desks were arranged in groups of four and there were four groups. Hanging from the ceiling, were pieces of laminated paper designating each desk group a number. The walls were covered in different iconic historical quotes, maps of the worlds, and black and white photos of people Amanda assumed were important. On her teacher’s desk was a small globe, a pencil cup, and a clay pot full of various origamis. Her teacher was leaning against his desk, in the middle of a speech when he was interrupted by the squeak of the door being opened. All eyes landed on Amanda and she squirmed under her peers' watchful gaze. She walked shyly over to Mr. Harrington and handed him her pass.
“Ah, Amanda! Welcome to U.S. History. Uh, here! Grab a syllabus and there’s a free seat at table two! I’m just telling the class a bit about myself.” He smiled politely at her, and motioned toward table two. At table two, Mary and Lj were sitting on the same side, facing the windows, so Amanda chose the seat across from Lj. She quietly sat her stuff down and paid attention to what her teacher was saying.
“Like I was saying, I was born and raised in Hawkins. I walked these very same halls you did once before! It’s actually where I met my current partner, I just didn’t know it at the time. I started at Ivy Tech college before I transferred to Indiana State Teachers College to get my degree. I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years and taught at the local high school, before we moved back this past summer to take care of their dad and here we are! I’m also the coach for the basketball team so information about try-outs will go up soon. Now, enough about me. If you’d take a look at your syllabus…”
Mr. Harrington’s voice faded into ambient noise in the background as she looked around her classroom. He’d met his wife right here in this building, and he didn’t even know it at the time. The person Amanda would marry could be sitting right in front of her and she’d never know until she was finally with them. She glanced around and her eyes landed on Louise-Jane Brooks, or Lj as she was typically called. Amanda immediately looked away, a fierce blush painting her cheeks the same color as her hair. That happened almost every time she looked at Lj. How weird is it that someone she’s known since kindergarten made her so nervous? The sun fitted itself through the blinds behind Amanda and illuminated Lj, like she had her own personal spotlight shining down on her. Brown skin, long braids, deep dark eyes turned to honey, and freckles left over from summer time glittered underneath the light and it stirred up something within Amanda that her mind had trouble reconciling with.
“Any questions?” Mr. Harrington’s voice cut through the Lj related fog in Amanda’s mind and her hand immediately shot up.
“You said you met your wife in middle school. How did you know she was the one?” Amanda forced her eyes to stay on Mr. Harrington despite the strange urge to look back at Lj.
“Well I didn’t know I’d marry them in middle school. I didn’t know that I’d marry them until way after college. We met in middle school. We were desk partners in our science class and they taught me how to make origami out of our homework sheets.” He picked up the little clay pot on his desk and pulled out what looked like a pencil. “They made me this little pencil for my first day teaching here.” He returned the origami pencil and the clay pot back to their spot on his desk and looked back out toward his students. “Are there any other questions?...No? Alright we’re gonna head down to the library and grab your textbooks so line up!”
A symphony of chairs screeching against the ground and whispering voices erupted as the students lined up by the door. Much to the delight of Amanda, Lj ended up in front of her. Lj was wearing a baby pink dress with white polka dots and white flats. Amanda tapped Lj’s shoulder and waited for her to turn. She turned and Amanda had to ignore the warmth in her cheeks as she spoke.
“I like your dress!” Lj’s smile grew in response to Amanda’s compliment.
“Thank you, Amy. It has pockets!” and she stuck her hands into the pockets of the dress to show them to Amanda. Amanda went to say something but the line had started to move so she kept her response to herself.
2. Friday, September 15th, 1995
In the weeks that passed, Amanda found herself looking forward to her first period class more and more. Mr. Harrington made learning about history much more fun than her previous teachers had. Though they had to check out the textbooks in the library provided by the state, Mr. Harrington told them to stack them along the window sill and they sat there everyday, untouched. In class, he told them the real history and explained what actually happened, what the textbooks glossed over or lied about. Instead of reading page after page in their textbooks they got to do fun projects creating poster boards, making dioramas, and even creating their own political cartoons.
Amanda has also been early everyday. She was sitting in her regular seat waiting for class to start, when two boys walked in, talking excitedly about some band she’d never heard of.
“Did you hear about the first Corroded Coffin show last night in Indianapolis? Apparently people were camping outside the venue for 2 nights to try and score tickets! I want to see them on tour so bad!” Mr. Harrington peaked his head up from the paper he was writing on and joined the boys’ conversation.
“You guys like Corroded Coffin? I know those guys, we all went to high school together.” Mr. Harrington said. He looked off to the side, brows furrowed as he thought about something. “Maybe I can ask them to come for career day in October?”
The two boys gasped excitedly and started asking their teachers questions about the band and how he met them. Mary, who sat diagonally across from Amanda, sighed. Amanda watched, Mary, who had her head in her hands, gazing dreamily at Mr. Harrington.
“Isn’t he just so handsome, Amanda?” Mary said, turning to look at her. Amanda wrinkled her nose in response. Sure, Mr. Harrington wasn’t ugly but she couldn’t see what it was about him that made all the girls trip over themselves. No matter if they were in the cafeteria during lunch or in the library for study hall, she was subject to hearing theories of what Mr. Harrington’s wife looked like, and whispers of ‘She’s so lucky’. Amanda didn’t get any of it. Still, she wanted to fit in, so she pretended. He wore the same style glasses that she did, so at least she could compliment him without lying. To herself or her classmates.
“Um, I like his glasses.” She replied. Avoiding Mary’s piercing gaze, she decided pulling her pencil bag out was a smart move.
“I don’t know, Amy,” Lj said, looking up from her book. “I think Miss. Rosario is prettier than Mr. Harrington. She would never come to school with her shirt so wrinkled.” Lj glanced at Mr. Harrington once more before going back to her book. Mary flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, before she raised her hand. Next to her, Amanda’s eyes were glued to Lj. Miss Rosario was pretty. Super pretty. If everyone was talking about that, she’d understand one hundred percent. She forced herself to look away when Mr. Harrington started speaking.
“Yes, Mary?”
“You don’t normally come to school with your shirt so wrinkled. Why today?” She asked. Mr. Harrington looked down at his shirt and inspected the wrinkles and huffed. He was wearing a plain blue and white striped polo, and jeans since it was a friday.
“Thank you…for pointing that out, Mary. For your information, normally my partner irons my shirts every morning while I make breakfast, but they’ll be away for the next month on a work trip, and I was in a rush and forgot to do it.” He walked back around behind his desk and grabbed the hawkins middle hoodie that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and put it on. “There, Now no one can see the wrinkles.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘is this okay’ and Mary nodded as she giggled
“Why does your wife always iron your shirts? Why don’t you iron your own shirts and she makes breakfast?” Janet asked.
“Well, Janet, if you must know, they like to pick out my clothes, and I’m the only one who can cook so it just works out.” Mr. Harrington replied. A few awws came from the crowd and he waved them away. “Yes, it’s all very sweet and domestic and all that jazz. Now, who can tell me where we left off yesterday.”
3. Tuesday, October 3rd, 1995
“Yo, Mr. H, what’s that thing on your nose?” It was right before class began, and Mr. Harrington had just turned around from writing their new essay prompt on the board. Right in the center of his face was a scratch, from the bridge of his nose to underneath his eye. Amanda was by the door, sharpening her pencil for the lesson.
“Well Good Morning to you too, Gerald. That thing on my nose is a scratch. My partner came home for the weekend and we ended up adopting some kittens last night. Three of them actually, so in the whole mess of transporting 3 kittens back to our home…” He gestured to his face and then shrugged.
“What did you name the kittens?” A voice said from the back.
“Sabbath, Kirk, and Abba.” His lips pursed, as if he was trying to suppress his smile.
“Why those names?” Amanda asked before she could stop herself. She recognized Abba because her older sister was always blasting it through her walkman, but the other two names were unfamiliar. She assumed they probably also had to do with music but she wasn't sure what they were references to.
“Well Sabbath and Kirk are nods to my partners favorite bands. The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’.” Mr. Harrington had an exasperated look on his face, but you could hear the fondness in his voice as he talked about his partner. He glanced over at his origami pot, which Amanda noted now had a black cat added to it. She spun to walk back to her desk with her newly sharpened pencils when Lj walked into class, beating the bell by a few seconds and immediately caught Amanda’s attention.
“Woah, Amy! You wore your hair down today?” Lj said, and stopped when she saw the redhead by the door. Amanda typically kept her hair in a ponytail and her bangs neatly trimmed just above her eyebrows to keep her curls from falling into her face while she worked. Today though, she had a black and white striped headband settled behind her bangs, the rest of her curly hair falling down to her shoulders. “I really like it like this. You look extra pretty.” Lj offered her a small smile and made her way to her seat. Amanda's hand flew to her hair and her jaw fell open a bit, eyes tracking Lj’s movements as she walked away.
Lj thought she was extra pretty with her hair down. Extra. Like she always thought Amanda was pretty, but with her hair down…she was more, pretty. Additionally pretty. Especially pretty. Her gaze slowly left Lj and landed on Mr. Harrington who was watching her with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head in amusement and then pointed to her desk with his chin. It took her feet a few seconds to catch up with her brain and move, but she made it to her seat. As she sat down, Gerald called out to her teacher.
“Wait Mr. H, I’m confused. Why did y’all get 3 kitties in the first place?” Mr. Harrington sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing when he made contact with the scratch.
“We couldn’t separate the siblings. Or, my partner didn’t want to separate them and…who am I to stop them. So we got three kittens.” His eyes widened like he still couldn’t believe it.
“Will you bring them in so we can meet them?” Kendra asked hopefully. Amanda knew she wanted to be a veterinarian so it made sense that she’d ask. That was the cool thing about going to school with the same kids all her life. She knew so many little things about them and what their aspirations were. Gerald was out of this world smart so he’d decided he would either be a lawyer or a doctor, whichever paid more. Mary wanted to be a famous actress, Janet loved science, and Lj was a writer like no other.
Amanda imagined hanging out with Lj in the future. Lj as a world famous journalist for the New York Times and Amanda working somewhere with numbers. They would both live in New York because Lj would want a friend there and they’ll live in the same apartment to save money and they’ll share a room because what if it’s lonely and she’ll get to wake up to Lj and fall asleep with Lj and grocery shop with Lj and
Amanda sat up straighter in her seat and shook her head as if to shake those thoughts out of her mind. She reminded herself to leave those types of thoughts to when she was alone and tuned back into the ongoing conversation.
“Sorry Kendra, can’t do that. I have a kid in my third and seventh period classes with allergies to fur.”
“What if your wife brings them, and then after this class period, she takes them back home?” Someone else suggested. Mr. Harrington chuckled to himself and dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment.
“That won’t be possible, they’re on a work trip, remember. Maybe I’ll bring a picture in so you all can see.” He offered, looking around to see if that would appease his students.
“But we want to see your wife! You’re always talking about her!” That comment came from Mary. Mr. Harrington laughed again and Amanda wondered what was so funny.
“Ok ok, I see what’s going on here. You’re trying to get me to talk about my personal life so we don’t start those essays today huh? Unluckily for you, I was a student once so I know all your tricks! Come on, let’s get class started.” A few tried to protest, but eventually they grabbed their notebooks and flipped to fresh pages.
As Amanda worked, her hair continued to fall into her face. She resisted the urge to tie it back into its signature ponytail, instead opting to tuck her hair behind her ear constantly. Louise-Jane Brooks thinks Amanda Driscoll is extra pretty with her hair down and Amanda decided it was normal to want another girl to think she’s pretty, so she kept her hair down.
4. Friday, October 13th, 1995
“Mr. Harrington, what was high school like for you?”
That day, the eighth grade class had a field trip to the high school now that their first marking period was nearly over. The class was pretty chatty now that they were back in their classroom waiting for the dismissal bell to ring. They were all standing around Mr. Harrington’s desk, a few sitting on the student desks behind them. They quieted down when they heard the question asked.
“I was pretty popular in high school, was co-captain of the swim team, fought some monsters, skipped prom, then I graduated and met the love of my life.” Mr. Harrington was staring upwards, like he was checking off an imaginary list in his mind. Immediately, a gaggle of questions were shouted out at him. His eyes widened in shock and he put his hands up in surrender. “Woahhh guys, one a time, let me see some hands. McKenzie, what’s your question?”
“I thought you met your wife in middle school?” A few ‘yeah’s came from the group as they recalled what Mr. Harrington told them on the first day of class.
“That is technically right. I did meet them in middle school and we were friends for that science class we shared. Then we drifted apart until after I graduated. We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school and ever since then it’s been me and them.”
“What do you mean by fighting monsters?” Another person asked. Mr. Harrington only shrugged. His arms, which were hanging down by his sides, wrapped around his stomach. “Whatever you think it means, Kevin.”
“He’s probably talking about some game or movie,” Someone commented from the back of the group to their friend. Mr. Harrington didn’t acknowledge them, only staring out the window. The kids begin to break off into separate conversation when the bell rings to dismiss for the day.
“Hey Amy,” Lj said, approaching her as the crowd started to disperse and leave Amanda, Lj, and their teacher behind. Mr. Harrington yelled out a ‘See you tomorrow and made good decisions!’ as he sat back behind his desk. The two girls were standing in the aisle between table one and table two, a few feet from the front of Mr. Harrington’s desk. She noticed her teacher start to look for something on his desk.
“I’m surprised you’re still here, normally you're first out the door.” She commented. Amanda smiled at the thought of Lj paying that much attention to her.
“I have Chess Club afterschool today so my mom will get me at four. I don’t have to catch the bus.” Lj hummed in acknowledgement before speaking again.
“So…I just moved to a new house, and I finally finished decorating my room. If it’s okay with your mom, my mom said I could invite people over now.” Lj had a delicate smile on her face as her fingers played with the hem of her t-shirt before being stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.
“Um, yeah of course! I’d love to! How do I tell you if my mom said it’s ok?” Amanda said, smiling so widely she knew her cheeks would ache later.
“Uhhhh,” Lj looked around, before taking a few steps and grabbing a marker out of Mr. Harrington’s pencil cup. Amanda trailed behind her. Lj grabbed Amanda’s arm and wrote down a series of numbers on her forearm. Amanda could see that Mr. Harrington was now fumbling for something within his desk. Lj let her hand fall from Amanda’s forearms to her hand.
“There. That’s my home phone number, just call me when you ask your mom! I hope she says yes. I got this jewelry making kit so we can like, make bracelets and stuff! Bye, Amy! Call me! Even if you can't come over!” Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and walking out the classroom.
Amanda was rooted in her spot, the path LJ’s fingers took burned into her skin. Having feelings for Lj had gone from manageable to completely unbearable from that one interaction. How was she supposed to walk around everyday not aching to touch her again? To feel the weight of Lj’s hand in hers and have her small, kind, infectious smile directed at Amanda. Her fingers traced the numbers on her arm as she reimagined her Saturday plans. She was shaken from her daydream when a throat cleared. Her head snapped to the source of the noise, and she met eyes with Mr. Harrington. Realizing he watched that entire interaction, her smile dropped. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same things her parents whispered in the kitchen when they thought she was asleep in the living room.
“That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t have a crush on Lj.” Mr. Harrington only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.
“I…I didn’t say you did.” He replied.
Amanda’s cheeks burned a deep red as she realized he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. She assumed she knew what he was thinking and just dug herself into a hole. She looked away embarrassed, feeling the burn of restrained tears behind her eyes. She’d just come to terms herself with what those feelings inside her meant. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant to openly like girls. But now she’d have to, Mr. Harrington was going to tell her mom.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” She whispered, looking away when a few tears fell. Mr. Harrington’s eyes widened in shock. He jumped up from his desk, walked around to the front, and kneeled in front of Amanda.
“Hey, hey, hey don't cry. I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. There’s nothing for me to tell, Amanda. Promise.” He reassured, his hands flailing about in front of him as he spoke. He offered a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before shifting to sit criss-cross in front of his desk, using it to lean on.
Amanda watched Mr. Harrington as he sat on the floor and made himself comfortable. He looked up at Amanda and patted the spot next to him. She sat down with him, legs stretched into the aisle in front of them and her back pressed up against Mr. Harrington’s desk. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, and Mr. Harrington pushed his glasses into his hair and began to speak.
“If I may ask, what is it… that I'm not telling?” He asked, voice gentle.
“I don’t think you’d understand.” She said, voice shaky with unshed tears.
“Maybe…maybe not. But you never know unless you tell me. If you want to, of course.” He said as he watched Amanda carefully.
“How do you feel about your wife?” She asked him, finger aimlessly prodding at the linoleum floors.
“My partner is the best gift that I could have ever been given. They’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The kindest, most compassionate, and genuine person I know. And they’re hilarious, they make me laugh like never before. I used to dread going home, but now that they’re there, I can’t wait to get back to them everyday. Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them. They are the center of my universe and every planet surrounding it.”
The two sat in silence for a moment after. Amanda wondered what it would be like to love a girl so fully. To love a girl so much that her mere presence made the stars shine brighter and air seem crisper. To love a girl, and be free to tell anyone who asked.
“I want,” she started. “I want to be allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Amanda nearly whispered the end of her sentence, the force of hearing her voice admit that out loud for the first time knocked the air out of her.
“You are allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Mr. Harrington said, shifting to face Amanda better. She turned to look at him, red rimmed eyes meeting earnest ones. “My best friend and her wife moved to San Francisco so that they could. They’re much more open minded out there. When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us out there way more than you did here in Hawkins.” Amanda’s brows knitted in confusion.
“People like us?” She asked. Mr. Harrington nodded.
“People like us,” He confirmed. Amanda let the weight of both their confessions settle in the air. Other people felt this way. Mr. Harrington did. And so did his best friend and her wife. And the people in San Francisco and in Chicago. She wasn’t the only person who felt. Amanda let her worries be temporarily soothed by the comfort of knowing she wasn’t a freak or a mistake. She wiped her eyes again, put her glasses back on, and pushed herself off the floor. She looked up at the clock which read 3:12. Chess Club started in three minutes.
“I have to go, I don’t want to be late…but thank you, Mr. Harrington.” Amanda said, voice quiet.
“Anytime, Amanda. My door is always open.” And she didn’t doubt that. Not many people in Hawkins knew how she felt, but Mr. Harrington did and that was more than she thought.
5. Monday, October 15th, 1995
When Amanda walked into her homeroom class the following day, the first thing she noticed was the new poster up by the chalkboard. It was a plain beige rectangle with rainbow patterned letters, spelling out “YOU ARE SAFE HERE.” Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes immediately searched for Mr. Harrington, but he was busy talking to one of her classmates. She walked to her seat, reveling in the warmth that grew in her chest from how nice it was to be cared for like this.
As Amanda placed her arm on her desk, she felt the delicious bite of the gems on her bracelet sink into the skin of her wrist. She lifted her wrist to inspect the new jewelry she made with Lj. There were pink, orange, and red beads patterned on her bracelet, while Lj’s had a pink, blue, and purple pattern. Both bracelets however, had “LJ&AMY”. Her right hand came up and she ran her fingers over the beads, and smiled fondly as she remembered her weekend with Lj. Memories of bracelet making, pizza, karaoke, and sharing a banana split sundae filled her mind. Amanda looked ahead of her and saw that Lj was already staring at her. She smiled at her and waved shyly. Lj giggled and waved back.
“I like your bracelet,” She said, smiling back at Amanda. Amanda stuck her hand wrist out proudly to show off the bracelet Lj helped her make.
“Why thank you, it’s custom made, one of a kind,” She laughed again, but was interrupted by one of her classmates yelling over the chatter in the classroom.
“How was your weekend, Mr. H,” Gerald asked.
“It was pretty good. I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner and they had a picnic set up. It was very sweet. They even made me a flower crown by hand. We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.” He responded.
“Wow, Mr. H, your wife sounds mad sweet.” Gerald responded, his fingers absentmindedly twirling one of his locs.
“Right,” Kendra piped in from the back corner. “Everytime you say something about her it’s always something so gentle. Like she taught you how to make origami, and she irons your clothes, made you adopt all those cats, now a picnic at Lovers’ Lake and a handmade flower crown? She’s like, the sweetest woman in the world.” Kendra said, recalling all the kind things Mr. Harrington’s partner did for him.
“I wish you guys paid this much attention to what I say when i’m teaching, how did you even remember all of that?” Kendra only shrugs and Mr. Harrington sighs. “Anyways, what about you guys, what did you get up to this weekend?” Immediately Lj’s hand went up and Mr. Harrington called on her. She reached her hand out to Amanda, who immediately clasped her fingers around Lj’s.
“Well Amy came over to my house and we did a bunch of fun stuff like go to the mall and get pizza, but we also made these matching bracelets.” Lj then stuck their conjoined hands in the air so their classmates could see the bracelets, even if it was a bit awkward with all that space between the two girls.
Amanda’s grin grew impossibly bigger and she looked at Mr. Harrington who raised his brows in pleasant surprise.
“That’s very nice girls, my partner and my best friend have a matching pair of purple converse that they decorated together actually. Janet, what about you? How was your weekend?” Mr. Harrington went on, letting his students tell him all about their weekend before they started class. Amanda couldn’t pay much attention to what her classmates were saying though, savoring every second Lj kept her in hand in Amanda’s.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird how Mr. Harrington never just says ‘my wife’?” Mary whispered to her tablemates. Amanda froze for a moment, considering Mary’s words. Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and picking up her pencil to take notes since Mr. Harrington was now starting the lesson. Amanda didn’t follow her lead. Instead, she ran back every time Mr. Harrington brought up his wife.
“Then I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years…”
“...normally my partner irons my shirts every morning…”
“Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them.”
Why didn’t Mr. Harrington just say ‘my wife’ instead of ‘my partner’? Why did he always say ‘they’ instead of ‘she’? Amanda’s mind reminded her of their conversation afterschool on friday.
“When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us way more than here in Hawkins.”
People like…us.
Her eyes darted to the new poster hanging up in their class. You are safe here. Her eyes drifted to Mr. Harrington as the realization dawned on her. Why Mr. Harrington was so specific about how he referred to his partner. Why he didn’t have a picture of them on his desk like her other teachers do.
Mr. Harrington…doesn’t have a wife. He has a husband.
+1. Tuesday, October 16th, 1995
It was career fair day so after lunch instead of heading to her algebra class, Amanda met up with Lj in front of the gym to browse all the different jobs that came to present that day. She almost tripped over her feet in excitement once she spotted Lj. She quickened her pace, nearly running over one of the 6th graders. The two girls embraced before linking arms as they walked into the gym together.
They stopped by the doctor table and the accounting table, and ran past the construction table giggling. They visited the journalism table so Lj could talk with the woman there. She had a short, curly bob and a name tag that read “Miss Wheeler”. Amanda looked around and spotted Mr. Harrington toward the back of the fair talking with another man with unruly, curly hair. The long haired man smiled at Mr. Harrington and knocked the educators shoulder with his own.
Amanda told Lj she would be right back and headed in their direction. Upon arriving, Mr. Harrington’s friend stepped away from him and approached Amanda. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “The Devil Was Once an Angel” and ripped black jeans. He had many rings on his fingers and various chains hanging off his belt loops. He had multiple tattoos all along his arms and stuck to the front of his chest was a name tag that read “Mr. Munson”.
Looking at his display, she saw a speaker, quietly playing metal music and a black and red electric guitar on a stand next to it. There were pictures of the long haired man on stage with 3 other guys and a notebook open with what looked like song lyrics. Next to the notebook, there were some tickets for a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’. Amanda racked her memory trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.
“Amanda!” Mr. Harrington greeted. He turned and faced Mr. Munson. “Mr. Munson, this is that student I told you about. Amanda, this is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist, lead vocals, and songwriter for his band.” Mr. Harrington looked at Eddie proudly, and placed a hand on each shoulder, in a weird sort of side hug.
“Thank you for that lovely introduction, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Munson said, grinning widely. He then turned to Amanda. “What kind of music do you listen to, Red?” He had his hands clasped together, his two pointer fingers pressed against his lips.
“Uhh, I guess I listen to a lot of pop music. My older sister introduced me to someone called Madonna? I mainly listen to my sister's old tapes so whatever she has,” Amanda responded.
Mr. Munson gasped, dramatically clutching his hand to his chest where his heart would be.
“Oh you poor thing! You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.” She giggled and Mr. Munson smiled at her in a way where she knew he was only teasing. Amanda could see Mr. Harrington roll his eyes but smile, as Mr. Munson grabbed the speaker that was on his table. He pulled it closer to the front of the table so she could hear the music playing better. Mr. Munson looked around quickly before whispering to Amanda. “You won’t tell anyone if this song says any bad words will you,” His questioning gaze turned into a devilish grin when Amanda smiled and shook her head. “I knew there was a reason you were his favorite” Her feet tapped in excitement as she glanced quickly to her teacher.
Mr. Munson turns the music up slightly and lets the heavy bass and electric guitar fill the air around them.
“That is my band's latest single, ‘Trials’. It’s about some stuff that your teacher and I went through back in high school.” He said.
“You guys knew each other in high school?” Amanda asked, bewildered. How did her polo-wearing, mr. popular, not a hair out of place history teacher become friends with a man so completely different from him?
“Well we knew of each other in high school, we were friends in middle school for a little while. We reconnected around this time of my senior year. 1986, can you believe that was 10 years ago, Stevie?” Where had she heard that before? Where did she know this man from? She can’t recall ever seeing him before, so why do his words sound so familiar? Amanda pushed those questions out of her head, and instead decided to ask him questions about his work since that is what he was there for.
“Do all the inspirations for your songs come from your life? How do you not run out of things to write about?” Amanda asked.
“What a wonderful question, Red. I do get a lot of inspiration from my real life. Take this weekend for example, Me and Mr. Harrington—or Mr.Harrington and I, Miss O’Donnell would kill me if she heard me say that.” Mr. Munson said that last part to Mr. Harrington before he turned back to Amanda. “Like I was saying, Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends. I got some inspiration from that experience to write about reminiscing on good times. The song that just played for you right now, is also about the past but it’s about how the past changes us today. So while I may use the same base for songs,...”
Amanda started to lose focus as Mr. Munson explained his songwriting process. Mr. Harrington also said he was at Lovers’ Lake with his partner and that he met up with old friends this weekend. She understood them hanging out as old friends, they knew each other since middle school apparently. But how could Mr. Munson have been at Lovers’ Lake too?
Amanda looks at Mr. Harrington, opening her mouth to ask a question when she stops herself. Mr. Harrington. That’s who she’s heard this from before. She looked back at the tickets on the table. “Corroded Coffin” She realizes that’s the band he was talking about that one day. She runs her entire conversation with Mr. Munson back in her mind matching it to the things she heard Mr. Harrington say in class.
‘’The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’”
“You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.”
“We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school.”
“We reconnected around this time of my senior year.”
“Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends.”
“I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner…We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.”
Amanda looked away from the table, looking between both Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington was watching Mr. Munson as he explained something Amanda wasn't paying much attention to with rapt fascination. His eyes were soft and his smile was adoring. His arms were crossed casually across his chest and he leaned slightly toward Mr. Munson, like the musician had a magnetic pull on him.
Like Mr. Munson was the center of his universe.
Amanda gasped loudly, effectively cutting off Mr. Munson’s spiel and drawing attention from a few of the neighboring tables. They all turned away when Amanda’s face broke into a wide grin, assuming her gasp was from excitement. Both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson were staring at Amanda with confusion on their faces.
“Are you…okay, Red?” Mr. Munson asked as he stepped backwards to inspect Amanda, consequently getting into Mr. Harrington’s personal space. Her history teacher didn’t budge when there were only a mere few inches separating them. She peeked around them, searching for Lj and finding her talking to Gerald in front of the lawyers table. She turned back to the two men in front of her and kept her voice low when she spoke.
“Mr. Harrington doesn’t have a wife,” She paused for dramatic effect, something she learned from Mary, and let the two men share a glance before looking back to her. “He has a husband.” She clapped her hands, excited by her discovery. It all made sense now. Realization washed over both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. They looked at each other, Mr. Munson pursing his lips to suppress a smile and Mr. Harrington with both hands on his hips and an exasperated look on his face.
“How did you piece that together from my presentation?” Mr. Munson asked, head tilted in amusement.
“It wasn’t your presentation, it was the stuff you said before you started talking about the music. Mr. Harrington talks about you all the time in class. The stuff you said right now matched up to what Mr. Harrington said before and all the signs, the poster, ‘People like us...It just clicked right now. What all that meant.” Amanda said, hands waving wildly in front of her. They froze mid-air when another realization washed over her. Her eyebrows knit up in confusion as she looked Mr. Munson over once more.
“You…with the tattoos, and the rings, and the chains, and the all black clothes…adopted three kittens? And you iron Mr. Harrington’s clothes every morning? And planned a picnic out on Lovers’ Lake? You taught Mr. Munson to make little origamis? Made him a flower crown? That was you? But you look so…” Amanda paused looking for the words. Mr. Munson glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Harrington with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “You look so, not the type.”
“I told you all those years ago, Stevie. Forced conformity. It’s killing the kids.” He turned back to Amanda. “It’s 1995 Little Red, people are so much more than their stereotypes.”
Amanda stared at Mr. Munson, soaking in all the new information, when another question popped in her mind.
“Wait. If you’re both boys, how did you get married?” She kept her voice low, so the other tables wouldn’t over hear her. Mr. Munson crouched down to Amanda’s level.
“Well, to the government, marriage is a piece of paper saying ‘This is who I chose!’. And tax benefits. We didn't need a piece of paper and a big fancy party, though we did have one, to say that we chose each other for life. I love him. And the government doesn’t get to tell me if that’s okay or not, it is okay.” Mr. Munson then looked up at Mr. Harrington from his spot on the floor. They shared a look, one that said a million more words than they’d be allowed in such a public place.
Amanda looked away from them, the connection between the two becoming almost suffocating. It was so surreal to be standing in front of two people who understood what she was going through. They went through it already and came out the other end. They were living breathing proof that it’s not always this hard, and it’s not always this confusing. That one day you’ll be able to wake up every morning next to the love of your life, no matter their gender. You’ll get to visit your favorite spots from your childhood as you grow old together. That we get a fancy wedding and the promise to be together forever too. They were proof that our fate isn’t subject to becoming a forgotten name in the newspaper for a case the police won’t try to solve. People like us, get to have our happily ever after, and Amanda was looking right at one. She couldn’t quite put into words what that meant to her.
On top of that, Mr. Munson wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Besides the fact that she was expecting a woman up until yesterday, he wasn’t anything like she expected for someone who presented themself like he did. He was kind and gentle while being loud and dramatic. He picked flowers for his husband with the same hands he used to shred electric guitar. He was unapologetically himself, even if that confused some people. Amanda looked forward to the day she could say the same about herself.
Mr. Harrington offered Mr. Munson a hand, and helped him off the floor when Lj approached the table.
“There you are Amy, I was wondering where you went,” Lj immediately reached for Amanda’s hand and interlocked their fingers, like she couldn't go another second without touching Amanda. Mr. Munson offered a small, knowing smile. “Are you done here? I heard the veterinary table is giving out cookies shaped like dinosaurs!”
Amanda looked away from Lj and back up at Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington.
“After the promotion ceremony, and we’re officially high schoolers…am I still allowed to come back and say hi?” Amanda asked. Sure, it was only October but Mr. Harrington had already changed her life in such an irrevocable way. When she gets her first girlfriend or when she moves away to find people who are like her, it’ll be because Mr. Harrington was the first person who told her that it was okay and that she wasn’t alone.
“Of course, Amanda. Come back anytime! I’d love to hear about how high school goes for you. Even beyond that!” Mr. Harrington said. They shared a smile, and she let Lj pull her away.
“So you talk about me in class all the time, huh?” Mr. Munson teased as Amanda walked away.
“Go back on tour,” was her teacher's reply.
—
I don't know if i really have the words to explain what this fic means to me and how cathartic it was to write. Thank you for reading <3
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington fic#eddie munson fic#steddie fic#steve/eddie#steve x eddie#steddie stranger things#st#plu#100#1k#oc#ducky writes
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How to Tempt Your Papas (Headcanons)
How to get your papas home early, inspired by this post (also mentioned in Copia's section).
sfw mostly, a little spicy imagery in some parts, gn!reader
Primo
Primo has such a soft spot for you. All you really have to do is send him some really sappy message telling him that he makes you so happy and you love him very much and he just melts.
He’ll send an equally long message about how he feels the same, how he loves you without requisite and that you make him want to be a better man every day of his life. That’s your hook and line.
For the sinker, send him a selfie of you in one of his sweaters all cozy in bed with a empty space beside you with a text saying ‘I miss you so much, I’m so cold and lonely without you :(‘ no matter how cheesy you think it is, it will capture good ol’ peepaw’s heart.
He’ll go ‘Oh no :( I left my dearest all alone, how could I? Shall I come home early tonight, amore mio?’ And voilà he’s home in less than half a hour. Mission successful.
Secondo
You’d think if you send nudes it’ll rile him up enough to come home and have his wicked wiles with you but no. This man is shameless. He’ll get off right then and there to your picture and send one back of his handiwork with a promise to absolutely ruin you later for trying to tempt him.
The first time you do this you learn that while it is a good motivator, it does not get him home any faster. Kind of backfires because when he sends you a well-framed shot of himself in hand entirely spent and messy, you're the one getting all hot and bothered now.
What really gets him home quickly is your home cooking. Make any authentic dish (especially with his mom’s recipe) and mans will be home in less than 20 minutes because that shit is fire when it’s hot out the oven.
He knows if he waits it’ll either get soggy or cold and he hates re-heating food. If you make his favorite he’ll be back in even less time.
Terzo
Where nudes don’t bring Secondo back, it’ll send Terzo packing for home. He’ll be back so fast you barely have time to put your phone down. He is so enthusiastic and most times it feels like he just can’t get enough of you.
Sure, he could wait until he’s done with his work to go home to you, glance at his phone every so often to motivate himself to finish quicker, but where’s the fun in that? His tesoro’s ready for him and who is he to keep them waiting?
He’ll dump his work onto some poor unsuspecting sibling of sin or ghoul and be out the door in seconds.
While it's very effective, you should be prepared to follow through with this man
Alright. For my ace-spectrum lovelies and those who feel uncomfortable with the idea of sex, I love you and you are so valid. Your method of choice will be Italian Soap Operas.
Every night before bed you'll watch a few episodes of a soap opera together, following along and commenting on outrageous choices or acting and pointing this out to each other.
Tell him if he doesn't come home, you're gonna start it without him. If that doesn't seem to get his butt moving, send another text ten minutes later saying 'do you want spoilers' or 'i did not expect that to pan out this way' or something about the episode coming up and he will respond with keysmashes and be on the way in no time.
Copia
Rat photos. Send him cute photos of his rats and he will cave and want to go home.
He’s a hard worker so sometimes he pulls all nighters and then just stays in the office for the whole next day as well. To lure him back to make sure he’s taking care of himself and getting food and sleep, make pancakes.
Make some for you and him and then tiny pancakes for the rats and take a picture. Tell him they’re waiting on him to eat together! They’re starving! But they really wanna wait for their papa to have breakfast together. Copia is home in minutes.
You can also send vaguely threatening (but not really) texts with a blurry photo of his beloved rats (like this post that I love very much) with a text saying “come home or she/he gets it”. He’s not worried that you’ll actually do anything to his babies, but he’ll still want to come home faster because fuck that’s really cute and funny of you.
#the band ghost#terzo#copia#ghost band#secondo#ghost bc#primo#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#papa emeritus i x reader#cardinal copia x reader#headcanons
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Spotless: Pizzicato
Chapter Nineteen
Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela, Dean/Cas (unrequited)
Other characters: Miriam Talbot (OFC Bela's mother)
Word Count: 2567
Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, putting out other people's fires, and old baggage, unbeta'd
A/N: Castiel and Trouble's friendship is something I didn't realize she had been missing until he was in front of her. There are a couple of big truth bombs in this chapter and I hope I handled them respectfully. This is an AU and it is not indicative of this author's feelings on canon or any other fandom shipping practices.
Series Masterlist
Posting on Dean’s instagram account was par for the course as the band’s publicist. You bothered to know what a hashtag was, for one. For another it also allowed you to check traffic on posts and actively moderate things to help the comment section look best for Dean’s image. Afterall, Dean trusted you, you weren’t going to leak anything or make him look like an idiot.
You were a goddamn professional and this wasn’t the hardest thing you’d done in the last year, but Jesus fuck were you pissed.
Dean hated tattoos. Really, he hated needles. He was black out drunk when he and Sam got their matching flaming pentagrams. He actually had a panic attack the next morning after realizing he let someone “sew ink” into his skin. By sheer force of will and through the bond of shared grief, you got him to go with you for Jo’s memorial tattoo on the tenth anniversary of her death. It was in your all-time top five ultimate Dean-Y/N memories.
And now it meant jack shit.
You edited and cropped the photos, sent two back to Bela to post on her account and then posted the lion’s share onto Dean’s, making him look like the diligent boyfriend while Bela was busy in the chair. You thanked Billie for taking care of “his girl” and made sure the shop was the location and tagged. You wanted to punch something, it looked so good. Then you sat back and let the interwebs do its job.
Okay, in actuality, you emailed about twenty different people, had a conference call with the tour management marketing team, scheduled radio station drop ins and followed up with Meg on the expected release of Dean’s photoshoot and interview. These days it may just end up online, but you hoped she was able to score him real physical print space.
It was just as you were winding down for the night, when your phone rang. It was past any reasonable business hours and you were already done with your skin care routine, but then you saw the caller id.
“Miriam! Hi!” You tried to sound pleasantly surprised.
“Don’t Miriam me, young lady. What is going on out there? Is it drugs? I thought we missed this stage when she quit acting for college. You’d tell me if this hoodlum was pressuring her into risky behavior wouldn’t you?”
Which was a lot to unpack right off the bat like that, luckily you had experience dealing with Bela’s mother.
“It’s just a tattoo. She’s not on drugs, I promise.”
“And what about this Dean? I knew they were seeing each other, but this seemed a bit more intimate— not exactly in the public eye.”
Oh, she was good.
“He’s not on drugs either. And—- he actually isn’t thrilled with tattoos. This might be all Bela, if I’m being honest.”
“Have you seen the things they’re saying? The things they’re calling her, Y/N?”
You rolled your eyes and heaved yourself out of bed, you needed your laptop if you were going to continue this conversation rationally.
“Let me look into it— what site were you on?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. Olivette, one of the boardmember’s wives, told me she read about it online during dinner.”
You inhaled deeply and started your usual rotation of sites, you’d have to add some new tags to follow Bela’s buzz more closely going forward.
“And you’re sure this wasn’t just bad blood from Olivia? I’m not finding much besides general surprise.”
“It’s Olivette. And yes, I’m certain. She wouldn’t make me worry without a reason.”
And then you realized what you were missing, it wasn’t just People or TMZ you had to worry about. You went to Hello!’s twitter and you found what had Miriam Talbot’s friend in a huff.
You started scanning the comments, gathering the most common complaints and judging their amount of influence via cursory glances. You did not know a lot of the news personalities or celebrity bloggers in the UK. You were going to have to meet with Bela and figure out a better approach going forward.
“Okay, Miriam, it’s almost eleven here. I know you probably called me as soon as you woke up, but consider me on the case. Alright? Bela’s fine and this is just a minor hiccup.”
“If you’re sure, Y/N, dear.”
You sighed. “Of course. I would warn you if there was anything to worry about. But please just let this run its course. You know how the tabloids are.”
“Unfortunately I do, that’s why I called. Please keep me updated if anything else comes up?”
“Will do. You have a good ni-day!”
“Goodnight dear— and thank you.”
You smiled at your lap. “Anytime.”
You let her hang up. Then you promptly pulled up your contacts list and warned Bela that her mother was sniffing about online and to call her at a decent hour. And finally, you spent the next four hours (or so) online until you had swam to the bottom of the cesspool and decided it wasn’t worth your time. At least not right then, not so exhausted.
Three days passed since the snobby UK gossip rags’ judgment rained down and, as expected, it had already just about fizzled out. You sat in a cafe with a quad shot flat white, waiting for your lunch date to arrive. Not truly a date, though it wasn’t a meeting either.
It was a diplomatic mission.
Then you spotted him and your stomach swooped, feeling the loss of his presence in your life all over again.
“Hey, Cas.” You stood and held your arms open for a hug, which he accepted with a timid smile.
“It’s good to see you, Trouble,” his gravelly voice murmured in your ear. He still smelled the same.
You pulled back and looked him in the eye, searching for anything but the sincere blue reality in front of you. He held no grudges, not with you, without even discussing it you knew he was still your friend.
You then punched him squarely in the shoulder. “That’s for ghosting us all for the last nine months, assbutt!”
He grunted, and rolled his eyes. “I can accept that.”
“Good. Because I missed you. We all miss you.”
He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in challenge.
“So— heard you have a kid, huh. That’s —- weird.”
Castiel exhaled and shook his head. “Who told you?”
“What? Nobody. I have eyes. And spend enough time online to draw some conclusions.”
“Kelly told you.”
“She didn’t have to. She’s amazing by the way— are you a thing now, now that you know he exists?”
Castiel looked affronted. “Me and Kelly? Oh, no. That was a teenage mistake. We were young. And we’ve both matured into vastly different people. But I respect her and I think— I hope I’ve earned her trust.”
“Tell me about him—- he’s what? Twenty-twenty one?”
“He’s twenty three and very talented. Kind, impossibly optimistic even.”
“Yikes, tough combo out here.”
“Tell me about it.”
You shared a look and he smiled at you like he knew what you were thinking about. Like you were reliving the same joke.
You blinked away the sting in your eyes.
“Go get your dark roast and get back over here, we’ve got things to discuss.”
His eyes softened, but Cas didn’t argue with you.
You sipped your drink and tried not to let all of the questions that had been building for months run away from you. He was back both too quickly and too slowly. You cleared your throat, the awkwardness you had been fighting back rushed to the surface.
“So— I presume there is more to you calling to get lunch. Not just asking about Jack and goading me about my latest tattoo?” Cas wasn’t one for small talk.
You nodded and swallowed around another perfect mouthful of milk and espresso.
Castiel’s face went through a journey when you didn’t quickly reply. “He doesn’t want to see me—- he made that quite clear.”
“And what about since everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know Dean’s called you. He might not have been big enough to actually apologize in a voicemail, but I know he wants to fix things— he misses you as his friend, too.”
“Then he should be able to suck up his pride and make the effort,” Cas snipped, the first sign of the lingering anger from his and Dean’s fight.
“I haven’t exactly seen much of your effort. Do you not want to fix things?--- And I’m not talking about coming back to the band— that ship has sailed. I’m talking about twenty years of friendships you just walked out on.”
Cas stared at his coffee, his eyebrow ring arched with his bitchy expression. He hated being corrected, you knew that. But this had gone on long enough.
“I’ve spoken with everyone but Dean,” Cas explained. “It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.”
“You never spoke to me,” you spat.
Cas’ eyes softened again. “I always knew where your loyalties lie, you took your time, too.”
“Wait— even SAM?!”
“Sam and I haven’t lost contact this whole time.”
You sucked in air. “Oh, he is so dead.”
“Y/N. It wasn’t like we were plotting or anything. He was worried about me, I was worried about Dean.”
“Yeah, but if Dean knew—”
“Ask Sam, but I don’t think he could hide anything from Dean if he wanted to.”
You knew he was right. Ever since Sam got sober, transparency had been something Sam put into his closest relationships anyway. Beside Dean being ruthless and stubborn, well, you supposed Cas was right.
“Why do I feel like this band just doesn’t want me to be able to do my job?”
“Your position as group therapist is fairly tenuous. Especially with Pamela involved.”
“I meant my real job. If I had known you were on decent terms with, well, everyone but Dean, it would have made things a lot easier, young man.” You couldn’t help but smile now. Sure you were hurt, but the eggshells you had been stepping over for so long really only took up a single corner of the floor.
It was freeing.
“I never meant to cause you any distress.”
“That doesn’t make it go away, Cas.”
He bowed his head, but popped back up to meet your gaze. “I know. I apologize. I didn’t want you to think that I was done— with any of you.”
You pinched your eyes closed quickly and then reached over the table to squeeze his forearm. “Okay. So— you’ll come to Dean’s birthday party, then?”
Cas patted your hand with his left and sat back, breaking the contact and sat with the invitation for a heavy moment.
“What makes you think he’d want me there?”
You glared at him, all tattooed and handsome and absolutely clueless about how much his absence has affected Dean. Sure, Dean got to keep the band, but it wasn’t the same without Cas. Cas has had to start over entirely, become a dad and rebuild his career all without any of the support Dean has had around him through his own troubles.
“Look— I know you’re Mister Independent and I don’t want to set back any of the progress you’ve made without him needing you around. But he still looks for you whenever we all go out. And hanging out with Kevin, made it abundantly clear to him that you were available— you just weren’t interested.”
“Why do you always make it sound like we were an item?”
You rolled your eyes. “Look, we all know Dean has attachment issues. I’m not saying anything was kinky between you guys— that’s not my business. But, as friends, you guys deserve to at least get some answers— closure or forgiveness can come later, if you get there.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that to get me off your case?”
“Yes, really.”
You smirked and Cas’ smiled with his eyes, fidgeting his lip ring with his tongue.
Cas cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee before changing gears. “So, your friend Bela and, uh, Dean?”
You groaned and hid your eyes in your hand. When you looked up he was laughing at you.
“What?!”
“Stop— we both know what it’s all about.”
“Kevin seems to think Dean’s whipped.” Mischief continued to dance in Cas’ eyes.
“Well, it’s about time.”
“I told him, the only one who has had Dean whipped in over a decade is you.”
You choked on your spit, sputtering at Cas’ bluntness.
“They don’t know it’s for show do they?”
You inhaled deeply. “Sam knows. Dean and Bela have their own private agreement about it all. But, uh, yeah, you pretty much guessed right.”
Cas watched you thoughtfully, futzing with his lip ring with his top teeth now.
“How are you holding up?”
“Me? I’m fine, why?”
Cas nudged your ankle under the table with his combat boot.
“As someone who was definitely in love with him for most of my life— I know the symptoms.”
You sighed and shivered at being seen and having your long held suspicions confirmed. You rubbed your upper arm, trying to fight the goosebumps. “I’m fine. Nothing has changed. He’s just been working on himself and that is— distracting.”
Cas hummed, head cocking to the side as if looking at you with a different angle would give him more insight.
“I mean it. He’s in therapy and everything. Sam and him are working out. He’s been insanely focused on the latest album—”
“He’s doing penance.”
“Maybe. But he wants to be better. It’s not just guilt. I don’t know how to explain it. But, you’ll see what I mean.”
Cas eyebrow popped up again.
“You will,” you insisted.
“You always were able to read me weren’t you?”
You chuckled at the back of your mouth, short and knowing. “Guess it comes with being stuck with each other for so long.”
“Shared trauma response,” Cas teased.
“Or that.”
You finished the last of your drink and looked around the cafe.
“So, where we going to eat? I think we’ve had enough heavy— sushi?”
“You buying?”
“Phantom Traveler is covering this as a business lunch.”
Cas stood and pushed in his chair. “Okay, well then, bring on the seafood.”
You stood and let Cas walk you outside, his hand on the small of your back until he could offer you his elbow on the sidewalk. You smiled up at him and pulled him tight to your side.
“I’m glad you’re back, Cas.”
“Well, we’ll see if everyone agrees with you, won’t we?”
The afternoon passed quickly, catching up and sharing memories that were now tinted with the grief of the last lost year. Things made more sense the longer you thought about how the band had been acting, especially way back at the Animal Shelter where Cas’ niece had been more than willing to put in her two cents. You texted Sam while you waited for your meals, warning him where you were and what you knew.
‘Have fun.’
His only response. Asshole.
But everything kept from you, kept from Dean, wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t. Now you at least could control the narrative a bit more by being in on it all. Or most of it at least.
Tagging:
@deans-spinster-witch
@mrswhozeewhatsis
@cosicas-cuquis
@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like
@suckitands33
@ladysparkles78
@deans-baby-momma
@stoneyggirl2
@sassy-pelican
@leigh70
@globetrotter28
@winharry
@lastactiontricia
@rockhoochie
Chapter Twenty: Arpeggio
#spotless series#rockstar au#slow burn#dean winchester fanfiction#dean angst#dean/reader#dean/bela#friends to lovers#it's no longer a love triangle or maybe it was bela who made it a square
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this time i finished a book and wrote some psych au and caught up on a shit ton of fic, and yet i still almost put the wrong banner on here. happy reading!
masterlist.
Set In Platinum by cricketnationrise
“So,” Alex says, plopping down on Henry’s couch. “You said some things on my channel are more achievable with a partner.”
Or,
The camboy!Alex sequel.
diamonds are forever by rizcriz
Henry shakes his head. “James Bond is fictional.”
Alex raises his eyebrows. “But . . . ?”
Gaze slipping to the ceiling, Henry nods once. “It is not . . .” He says, making a face as his eyes meet Alex’s again. “Dissimilar to James Bond.”
Alex nods. “So . . .” He trails off, the information still processing. It’s a bit like his mind is buffering as he makes sense of it. It’s so little information, yet so much all at once. Like someone’s thrown an encyclopedia at his head and given him a cliff notes explanation expecting him to know it word for word. “That would mean—I’m dating James Bond?” He blinks, sitting up straight. “Oh my god,” he exclaims with sudden realization. “I’m a Bond Girl.”
Happiness I Seek by MayQueen517
A sick day in the Brownstone
===
“It really must be serious if you’re admitting you’re sick,” Henry says, grinning weakly when Alex groans, shoving at him.
the clementine thing by saintlynomenclature
And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.
Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.
-
Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor
(Not) A Cinderella Story by LolaLand
Henry is very much a prince. Alex is very much not a princess.
OR
Prince Henry isn't a fan of royal duties, and Alex isn't a fan of the monarchy (or their non-disclosure agreements).
our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) by firenati0n
The posh accent hit Alex first, and he felt something curl in his gut. One of his amygdala brain worms did a little wiggle. He was unprepared for what was to come.
A pair of criminally long legs entered his vision, effectively vaporizing most of the brain worms (that's a first), except for the ones slowly starting to chant shoulders and thighs and hair and legs and thighs and Alex couldn’t do a goddamn thing to stop his increasingly horny train of thought. All trains had left the station.
Or, Alex asks a stranger to crack his back like a glow stick.
Or, an overnight train meet-cute.
A Little Space to Think by allmylovesatonce
A surprise visitor sends Alex into a spiral about his future, specifically, his future with Henry.
I kiss the photo every night so you are in bed with me after all by imaginentertain
Following the election, the boys are back on their relative continents and back to their lives. And it sucks. It may only be a month until New Year's but things are different now: they're out to the world, Alex is the official suitor of the Prince, and they're talking about New York and the Brownstone and Law School.
Alex misses Henry. Out loud. He's allowed.
"Sure you'll find something to keep you busy."
Henry will regret saying that. Probably.
of hubris and fowl by maxbegone
"The bird fucking bit me," Alex tells her before she can get a word out.
June blinks. "What?"
"And I'm bleeding."
"What?" She repeats.
Alex just holds up his hand, the bundle of tissues now somewhat sticking to his wound.
"Alex," she starts, exasperated, "what the actual fuck?"
On the evening of Wednesday, November 27th, 2019, the First Son of the United States, Alexander Claremont-Diaz, sustained minor injuries after contact with a wild turkey. Out of abundance of caution, Mr. Claremont-Diaz was transported to Walter Reed Medical Center for evaluation and treatment, as is protocol after contact with a wild animal.
Or, Alex is dramatic, (definitely) antagonizes a turkey, and everyone thinks he's overreacting.
Trying My Patience (Try Pink Carnations) by chamel
Unfortunately for him, the only things more beautiful than Alex himself are Alex’s cakes. He’s the most in-demand cake artist in the city, and as such he books a lot of weddings. Many of the very same weddings that simply must also have Fox Florals arrangements for their centrepieces. Weddings like, apparently, this one.
(Or, Henry the florist and Alex the cake artist are forced to collaborate last minute at a wedding job, make a mess, and learn some things about each other in the process.)
Balls to the Wall by inexplicablymine
“He looks kind of like a cross between a sickly Victorian orphan and the personification of the bubonic plague. I feel like I should be walking in with a Medico Della Peste plague mask and a stick,” Alex says into the phone while wearing his version of a hazmat suit (last week's sweats that need to be laundered expeditiously). He looks out into the carnage of his sleeping bedridden roommate in dismay.
So maybe he doesn't need to rob a bank, but robbing a Starbucks for Henry’s happiness might be in order.
He rips off the rubber gloves and grabs his shoes.
“Fuck it, we ball.”
Or
Alex is willing to go to great lengths in order to make Henry happy, great lengths indeed.
We'll Get Together Then by absoluteaudacity
5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)
cherry shampoo and a kiss or two by viciouslyqueer
“You underestimate my stubbornness,” Alex says defiantly with a small smile. “Plus, I really need to wash my hair because it’s downright filthy, I just... can’t bring myself to actually leave the bed and do it.”
Henry hums thoughtfully, a plan forming in his head; he can do something about this.
He leans down to press a kiss on Alex’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
—
Alex is on his period. Henry takes care of him.
i'm in the back seat (of my body) by stevefuckingharrington
He pulls out his phone for a moment. Google’s “voice fine but can’t make myself talk” and then adds ‘ADHD’ on the end for good measure. He scrolls and few moments later he finds it. Going nonverbal is like walking barefoot on pins and needles when everyone else but me came prepared with steel-toed boots.
Alex clicks off his phone and tosses it on the bedside table. Maybe, he thinks, he should’ve got that autism assessment.
(or, sometime between christmas and new year, alex goes nonverbal during a party.)
Room For Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) by everwitch
When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know.
Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even.
But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.
love's a game (wanna play?) by theprinceandagcd
“Fuck, marry, kill?” Alex suggests, mostly joking.
Nora kicks gently at his thigh. “That could be fun.”
“Wait, I was ki-”
“Celebrities only or are we allowing real people?” Probably-Samantha poses.
“Celebrities are real people, Samantha,” Pez says. Alex pushes down the rush of satisfaction that he had remembered her name correctly.
“Non-celebrities should be fair game,” Alex insists, and Henry’s gaze meets his before quickly darting away. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, like maybe the drink in his hand isn’t his first.
Or second, even. Jesus, his face is pink.
---
aka, FMK as a plot device
Palatial by floatingaway4
With a smirk, Alex holds out his other hand, palm up.
“I’m not giving you twenty dollars,” Henry says with a laugh.
“We had a bet, sweetheart.”
Henry grabs Alex’s outstretched hand and pulls him in for a quick kiss. “You had a bet. I ignored you.”
“I really thought we were gonna get all the way through this one without her saying ‘palatial’ but she pulled it out right at the last minute.” He slides a finger into the belt loop of Henry’s jeans and yanks him close. “You know, I really do forget, every once in a while, that you’re a prince. Good thing I have the New York real estate market to remind me.”
Seven Minutes in Heaven (Reversed) by TheAmberFox
'Tell him, you idiot,' Nora mouths at him, and Alex grimaces. He’s been over it with Nora so often and somehow, she is convinced that there’s a 99% chance that Henry would react positively. Alex can’t see it. He can’t even see 1%. Ever since they’ve started college together, Henry’s not dated at all. He has talked about the women his family has tried to push on him as “reasonable matches” though.
Alex, on the other hand, has tried distributing his attention equally throughout the dating pool and failed miserably. How can he focus on anyone else when Henry – the sole object of his heart’s desire – is right there? If Liam could see him now, he’d probably laugh his head off.
Once I get a taste by clottedcreamfudge
“Please,” Alex begs, on fire with a clawing desperate need. “Fuck, please, I’ll do anything. Henry.”
Henry, entire body rigid with tension, slowly shakes his head. Alex sees his mouth – red from where Alex has been kissing him, biting him, well on his way to eating Henry alive – form the word no, even though he can’t hear it past the blood rushing in his ears.
Then Henry turns and leaves, and Alex digs his fingers into the cheap plywood of his own desk as he tries desperately not to fall to the floor.
Which is not, as it turns out, where this story starts.
Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon by villageidiot
He falls asleep on the loveseat, Nora and June curled up on the couch across from him, as a terrible Hallmark Christmas film plays in the background. It’s the fourth night of sleeping alone—Henry taking care of some business back in the palace—and he’d rather wake up cold and cramped across from the two of them than alone in his own bed.
That’s how Alex falls asleep.
That is not how he wakes up.
maybe take me into your room by smc_27
“This is kinda boring, ma.”
She pats him on the cheek, leans in a little closer, and says, “Find something to do, darlin’. You live here. You can’t leave.”
She’s not exactly right, but he isn’t going to argue. Plus, her main advisor, Zahra, comes over. Alex is already a little afraid of her, so he doesn’t feel the need to draw attention to himself by smarting off at the mouth.
She’s still talking to him when he spots this really beautiful guy about his age, and fuck, wow. Okay.
“Not him,” his mom says into his ear, and he doesn’t even… Look, if she knows about the few guys he made out with at parties in Madrid last year when the opportunity arose, this is the first he’s hearing of it. “His dad is the British ambassador. I can’t have you breaking hearts and causing an international incident.”
OR: Ellen Claremont is the US ambassador to Canada. Arthur Fox is the British Ambassador to Canada.
All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers by @kiwiana-writes
“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.”
Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.”
A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind.
Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.
treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet by anincompletelist
Alex can’t remember his first words. He can’t recall the melody to the lullaby his parents often sang at his bedside to get him to sleep, nor the name of his sister’s imaginary friend that they had tea parties with on the floor of her bedroom. But he knows they existed. That it all happened and that each of those little, seemingly insignificant moments had built him up and formed him into the person he is today, even if he can’t recall every one of them perfectly.
But he can remember, as clear as if it’d been only moments ago, the day that he found out what the red band around his wrist meant, imprinted underneath his skin with a small gap right over his pulsepoint, waiting for the day the ends would meet.
Dream a Little Dream Of Me by affectionatelyrs
They’re no longer in the garden. There’s no grass, no flowers, no fireflies. Only stars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in an otherwise vast sea of darkness, dazzling and twinkling and here.
“How—”
“They came here for you,” Alex says, his voice light. “It’s what you desired. So, I asked them to come and shine. Just for you.”
“But won’t the world need them?”
Alex shrugs and simply says, “You need them more.”
-
Or, Five times Alex visits Henry in his dreams during his dark days, and one time he does so in the real world (and stays)
love left a permanent mark by HypnosTheory
Henry clears his throat and answers again. “I’m a bit nervous. About the needles.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Alex says, voice dipping low. Henry wouldn’t move from his spot on the couch if the apartment was on fire. “People aren’t afraid of the needle. They’re afraid of the pain. But you’re not scared of that, right?”
--
Henry decides to get a tattoo. It comes with more than one kind of aftercare.
(Finale to the only thing on my mind series)
say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) by coffeecatsme
“You should ask her to dance.” She nudges Alex, and Alex pretends there isn’t a flush rushing up to his face. He opens his mouth to mention every single fucking reason dancing with the blonde is a bad idea—she looks about a foot taller than Alex, objectively uncomfortable for some fucking reason, and Alex is against royalty on, like, principle—but then June nudges him again with widened eyes. “Come on. You know you want to, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it. None of the other fuckers are asking her because of how tall she is.”
For a moment, Alex glares at her. Then, he downs his champagne, shoves it in June’s face and tries to smooth his jacket. “You fucking owe me, June,” he says and ignores the brilliant smile that appears on her face.
“Don’t act so fucking upset about it.”
Or, 5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage.
Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.
as always, let me know if you want me to tag you, and see you next week!
tags: @starkfridays, @stilesgivesmefeels
#rwrb#rwrb fic#rwrb fic rec#rwrb fanfiction#firstprince#firstprince fic#red white and royal blue#henry fox mountchristen windsor#alex claremont diaz
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I already read everything you have published and I love it.
Following up on your previous post, how long will it be until Leon feels ready to propose to his girlfriend, and if she says yes, would they like a big wedding or something more private? Also, how would things be before the wedding?
One last thing, what is your native language?
We will consider this a continuation of part 3, which I am still translating.
It's all good. I receive all requests and will definitely answer them, but since English is not my native language, I do it quite slowly.
The text mentions a song by Lana Del Rey (sorry, I just love her music).
I take pictures and gifs from Pinterest.
It's been a good three years of relationship. It was funny how an ordinary interest turned into something more serious, which Leon cannot refuse, preferring to keep safe and with him like some kind of diamond.
And that diamond was you. The diamond who was sitting at the same table with him, with both legs thrown on the next vacant chair, while your hands were flipping through a new book about the Incas or the Maya? Leon didn't listen too closely, preferring to just admire you in the morning sun, forgetting about his cold coffee.
It was natural that two people who know each other well enough and have strong feelings for each other decided to legitimize their relationship, but a number of problems arose: 1) His work does not seem to forbid, but also does not understand the presence of a family. There are some D.S.O programs to protect the data of their agents' families, but Leon has never been interested in them. 2) Your age difference. Leon was almost forty and you're still too young. Yes, college will soon be left behind, but you are unlikely to want to start a family so early, despite the fact that it was somewhere in your plans. Just not now. 3) Despite the fact that he deeply loved you and knew that the feeling was mutual, Leon had no idea if you saw him as your husband.
Besides, the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt. More precisely, he didn't want it at all! But he loved you so much that he partly began to understand Glenn Arias in his madness because of the death of his wife.
It has nothing to do with the case, but Leon really wanted you to put a ring on your ring finger and become Mrs. Kennedy. However, he has not yet fully decided on it himself.
How can he carefully find out from you what you think about this? Leon gave you a worried look, but you didn't even notice it, too absorbed in reading. He had already turned his back to you to pour the coffee into the sink, and immediately froze as soon as he suddenly heard you quietly humming some strange song to yourself. Cacciatore? Some Salvatore? Limousines? Leon didn't comment on it in any way, just made sure that you didn't talk to him. "I just wanted to sing the chorus of my favorite song."
A sudden impulse, but then a message came to your phone and you reached for it to read it, and then showed Leon a couple of photos of your young friends from their honeymoon.
Leon regarded this as a great opportunity to carefully find out your attitude to marriage without giving himself away.
"Don't you think they got married too soon?" - You shrugged indifferently as you typed an answer to your friend.
"It's none of my business."
While you were carefully looking at the photos of friends in love from France, Leon stood still not knowing how to choose the right words. He rinsed the mug in the water, putting it in place and decided to start carefully "attacking" again.
"If you were choosing a place for your honeymoon, where would you go?" - It was risky, although you just looked away somewhere to the side, tilting your head to the side like a child, thinking about the question. - "Paris too?"
You were hiding like you ate something very sour.
"Paris is banal. I would have thought of something more interesting."
"For example?"
"Don't know… maybe Spain?"
Leon coughed. Not the most pleasant memories. For some reason, he imagined you wandering around Salazar's castle in search of various trinkets and trying to ask Ganado about their history, while he drags you everywhere by the hand, trying to shoot infected Las Plagas with a shotgun and pistol.
And then he will find you drinking tea with this same Salazar, talking sweetly about some abstract topic. The pictorial art of the fifteenth century, for example? At least this thought and the image that appeared before his eyes lifted his mood with its absurdity.
He rewarded you with a half-smile and dismissed the idea of marriage indefinitely. Until college graduation.
Until next week, actually.
Leon was just going into the store to restock some groceries when he accidentally bumped into a fellow agent. The conversation would not have gone beyond greeting if a little boy of five or six years old had not hit Leon's legs. He didn't even apologize and just ran on through the store until his father called out to him.
"You should apologize! Go up to Leon and apologize for pushing him!"
The child looked excitedly into his eyes, but still obeyed, slowly approaching an unfamiliar man.
"In fact, it's not necessary…"
"They need to learn to be polite. Do you have any children Leon?"
It was a strange question. Of course, before the outbreak of the G-virus in Raccoon City, Leon had some kind of plan for the rest of his life after graduating from the police academy. And in this plan there were two Kennedy babies, a house with a pool and a golden retriever, and of course a charming wife. Only Leon personally hammered the last nail into the coffin of his dreams.
Leaving your wife alone with a child in this dark world where every day there is a chance that another psycho terrorist may take it into his head to arrange another zombie apocalypse? That's not what he wanted.
But he still annoyed Hannigan with his questions. As if assessing the risk, Leon stared at Ingrid while she wiped her glasses.
"Is there a specific reason why you are interested in this topic?"
"No."
"Then stop wasting my time!"
Fair. Despite the information he obtained, Leon continued to walk like a gloomy ghost around his own house occasionally looking at you strangely. You caught those looks every time you asked him what was the matter, but he waved it off.
And then he asked you about that wedding. Then you had already separated and you were a bridesmaid without a couple. However, you had a good time without it, cherishing the hope that you, too, will someday have a beautiful wedding with a honeymoon.
Leon nodded, taking a sip of Jack Daniels from his glass. A beautiful wedding… with a bouquet of flowers, gifts, guests, a sweet cake and a magnificent white dress. A wedding in the best traditions…
That's what he couldn't give you. An important day in your life (if you agreed to marry him) is likely to become a normal weekday with the receipt of a marriage certificate. You deserve what you dream about, and he probably deprives you of it feeling boundless guilt.
Leon doesn't want to let you go. He hates the idea that you will leave again, leaving him in this empty apartment. however, he does not want you to suffer through his fault. Leon has long admitted to himself that he wants to come home to his family - to you and at least one Kennedy baby. But fuck, he's almost never around because of these missions! And you didn't think about motherhood as such at all. He's almost forty, not you!
But he decided to try again the attempt of careful questioning when you laid him on the bed so that he lay on his stomach to get a light massage before going to bed.
"So Paris is a bad idea?" - Leon thought when you frowned, sitting on his lower back and gently kneading his back. - "What about the Eiffel Tower? The Petit Trianon at Versailles? Those famous French delicatessen cafes? I thought you said you'd like to visit the Moulin Rouge sometime."
"Well, maybe someday. Paris is beautiful just not right for my honeymoon."
You said you wanted something original. So you ended the conversation and continued the massage in silence. And at night felt through a dream how Leon's palm touches your cheek, and then goes down to your neck, collarbones, all the way to your stomach, until he hugs you tightly, pressing you to him. Yes, it woke you up, but maybe he had a nightmare again? Leon wasn't sleeping, and you knew it, so you turned around and put your head on his chest, falling asleep again.
I don't care if you guessed about his thoughts or not, but after much thought, Leon still decided to try his luck.
Life is too short not to try to at least become a little happier.
He bought a cute diamond ring, trying to find something not boring and at the same time not pretentious. However, after tiring the consultant, he finally gave him an entertaining idea: if you don't like what Leon chose, you can come here again and buy any other ring that you like more.
You brought him such relief and comfort after meeting with all these viruses and parasites that Leon saw no problem in buying another ring in case you didn't like it at all. Of course, you can't tell him about it, but he knows his girlfriend's emotions too well.
Leon also ordered dinner at home, considering that due to your workload in college, you didn't sleep much, completely devoting yourself to the last academic year. Besides, he didn't invite you to the restaurant because he still wasn't sure of your answer. Positive or negative? If you do not want this, at least the home environment will not create severe discomfort.
And here you are sitting in your home clothes, calmly eating your favorite food, watching some action movie with your boyfriend, not knowing about the blue velvet box in his jeans pocket.
You can see that Leon is very nervous, scolding himself for the fact that it would be better to rehearse the speech in advance, but you are so absorbed in the film that you do not pay any attention to him at all until exactly the moment when he takes the plate from your hands and puts it on the table.
It took a few seconds for the tired brain to figure out where the dinner had gone.
Your palms immediately find themselves in his warm hands and it looks so cute when women's palms seem so small against his background.
You can admire this endlessly or until the moment when Leon silently, with obvious anxiety in his eyes, in horror, hands you a velvet box, waiting for a reaction.
For God's sake, say something, but don't be silent!
"Is that what I'm thinking or am I wrong?" - You open the lid looking at a charming ring matched to your finger size. And despite the fatigue of the gyrus, they understand that this is an unusual gift.
This is a marriage proposal!
"If you're not ready… fuck… I remember you told me that one day you would want to start a family, and I'm actually the worst option as a husband who is often not at home, although I try, sweetheart…"
"Do you want to start a family with me?" - In his opinion, you looked at him like he was crazy. But in fact, you were trembling slightly and were ready to lose consciousness if he answered in the affirmative now.
"I understand that it's probably too early for you. Understand, I'm not saying that if you agree now, then we will immediately go to the bedroom to make a mini Kennedy. You still have to go to college… damn it, how difficult it is… It's just a suggestion. I want you to be with me as my wife, I want at least one child from you, if you don't mind. You know, Hannigan told me a little bit about these programs to protect the families of agents… they're not bad."
Leon stumbled over every word, sweating profusely, once again afraid to turn to you. Suddenly you are frozen in horror at what is happening, despite the fact that he is actually calmly trying on an engagement ring, carefully examining the carat. You can't say you didn't like it. But because of your admiration for the new decoration, you practically did not listen to what poor Leon was talking about.
"You know, I'll understand if you've never considered me as a husband."
"It just always seemed to me that you needed a mistress and not a wife. You never said you wanted kids. "
You intertwined your fingers with him to calm him down a little. How grateful he was now for the support provided.
"This is problematic. Because of my job. I love you, but I wouldn't force you to do anything. I'm still a little scared of what I'm saying. Some agents have kids, hell, the B.S.A.A guys quietly start families because they get paid well, but when they die… what's the use of a hero father if he's dead? The choice is yours. If you ever carry my child, then I will do everything so that he lives in a safe world, at least on an island of tranquility without bioweapons and other shit. I may often not be around, but I'm willing to try. I no longer want to lose my happy future with the woman I love because of the bastards who think they are the rulers of the world."
Confusing and at the same time understandable. Leon has conveyed to you his thought, his dream, leaving you the right to choose. He was so afraid to look at you that he was surprised when, instead of fright or horror, he saw the serenity of a real angel holding his hand.
"What do you think?" - He asked, and you giggled merrily.
"I think you should wear a bulletproof vest." - Frank laughter rang through the apartment. And you moved to Leon's lap with the grace of a cat, touching the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips while he held you under his hips. - "I don't want to become a widow, but you'll have to run away from my father's bullets when he starts shooting at you with his hunting rifle."
Leon smiled cheerfully, putting his arm around your waist and forcing you to look at him.
There has not been a single boyfriend of yours who has passed a strict paternal check regarding the future spouse for the only daughter. It was a fucking test that no one could pass because you were still considered a little girl.
"We will resolve this issue. Your father is hardly more terrible than a Tyrant." - of course, you had no idea who it was. - "Can I take your answer as an agreement to become Mrs. Kennedy?"
"Perhaps." - You hung on his neck, admiring the two blue pools, and touched his lips with your feather-light kiss. - "But that means we won't have a big wedding, right? Like it's dangerous, I'm a big government agent about whose personal life no one should know, even the president himself. - You merrily parodied the timbre of his voice, realizing how ridiculous it turned out, but you both liked it."
"Yeah"
He was so vulnerable stroking your thighs. The realization that he can't give you what you want…Leon felt a stone of guilt fall on his shoulders, crushing him painfully. All he needs is for you to be happy and then he will be too.
"Well, it's not scary at all!" - You still continued to wrap your arms around his tense body. - "But you didn't just ask me about the honeymoon, did you?"
"This is what I can give you. I am not sure that it will last a whole month, but we will take everything from it."
All the light from the lungs seemed to have disappeared. Your joyful face can bring a dead man back to life! And Leon really came to life feeling like shit a little less.
"However, if you have deprived me of a bachelorette party with sexy strippers and a wedding cake - although no, we will order it anyway - I reserve the right to choose the place of our vacation on my own!"
"Anywhere angel. Even to a remote village in Spain"
Your eyes sparkled cunningly foreshadowing an exciting journey. Leon needs to listen more carefully from now on about your new hobbies.
______________________________________________________________
Claire laughed out loud as she turned over the card, on which Leon's handwriting had written one:
"When I agreed to a honeymoon in Peru, I did not think that I would spend hours looking at the Maya and the Inca skulls! Marital duty is not a soft bed in an expensive hotel, but a trip in the style of Lara Croft and Indiana Jones!
P.S while I'm writing this, I have to keep an eye on my wife so she doesn't break her neck climbing the fucking pyramid."
#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy#leon x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil#resident evil x reader#reader
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Obsessed!reader x billy x stu
Tw: obsessed!reader, stalking, harassing, creep behavior, murder, Stockholm syndrome, typical dark content. in this the murders take place in college; characters are aged up.
Headcanons:
- This all started after a party Stu and Billy had. You were instantly attracted to both of them after talking with the pair about horror movies, Love at first sight as you called it. Your boys were perfect and you would stop at nothing to make them yours. You started with making sure every class you took was with one or both of them and hung out with them as often as you could. Then, it got worse. You started to follow them after school and memorized their favorite restaurants, colors, and small details about them that they don't even know about each other. Eventually, You'd figure out they were Ghostface. it didn't take along, You basically watch them murder your peers. This only added fuel to your desire; You just knew you had to help your boys finish what they started or even maybe as blackmail if they didn't love you willingly .
-You also had a thing with grabbing their jackets and taking them or taking a look through Sidney's window when Billy was there. For Stu, you just went to his home to watch him. You had been gifted with a Kodak eos 3 and you used that to snap photos of the boys or them killing. Your favorites ended up in a box where you kept their jackets and hoodies or other personal belongings you managed to grab.
- Then, the "gifts" started about month three,once you had an inkling that Billy was catching on. You started to leave photos of them killing on their porch with a horror movie or their favorite candies. Some with notes about how cute they looked or even ramblings about how much you loved them and why. to you, it was sweet love notes. To Billy, it was his worst nightmare, more so in the fuck we got caught way.
- Billy was freaked the fuck out; He got very paranoid after the gifts started and even started delaying the killing. He was obsessed with finding out who you were. Stu, on the other hand, was very indifferent about it. To him, you just wanted in their pants, he didn't understand how deeply you fell for them yet. If anything, it was flattering to the lanky weirdo.
- You had done an excellent job of covering your tracks and sneaking around so the pair had a hard time catching you. You were so good at acting shocked and concerned for them when Stu rambled about it during a smoke sesh. That was until Billy finally put the dots together 8 months after your obsession started. His first hint was he noticed your behavior shifted after he got with Sidney, You seemed to get meaner to her. Purposely giving her wrong answers, making passively rude comments towards her, avoiding her, and you getting sweeter to him and Stu. He noticed your eyes would never leave his hands if he was touching Sid and the same when Stu would touch whoever he was fucking that week, currently it was Tatum. Billy soon realized who their lovely stalker was during another horror movie marathon at your house. He was looking through your closet for some blankets and by chance, he moved a back panel that had the box with their personal belongings. Billy looked through the pictures you had taken and clicked his tongue. "Shit." the box was damning, he thought it was Randy or one of Casey bitch ass friends. He acted as if he didn't have a clue and went back downstairs to enjoy the movies. On the outside, he was normal Billy, On the inside, he was thinking about what the fuck to do with you.
- However, You were ahead of them and planned this out before Billy realized your little scheme. You added some sedatives to their drinks and snacks. Once they were both out, You got started on putting Billy in a guest room and tying him up. Then Stu was placed in your bedroom and tied up as well. Once you felt that the boys were safe and secure, You walked back into the main living area and started cleaning up from the movie marathon.
- Stu was more calm about being kidnapped by you, he honestly just kept hitting on you and was whiny about the rope being too tight; It was so cute it made your heart swell. Billy, on the other hand, was pissed. He threatened to gut you a few times but you just giggled at him and padded his cheek. This only pissed him off more, you better hope he doesn't get out.
- Stu would be the first to fall into Stockholm syndrome. He would quickly return your intense feelings for them. Billy would take awhile: the fact you were able to pull this off impressed him but his pride was hurt that you were able to pull one over on him. Eventually, Billy would also gain an obsession with you, just as Stu had. You became theirs, just like you wanted.
#ghostface#billy and stu x reader#billy loomis x reader x stu macher#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader
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So they grew up together, they were childhood friends.
Do you think Tanthai used to come to Thee every time he had a scrap, every time he got scolded by his father? Was Thee, a little older, maybe just a little more serious, always there to wipe his tears and put a band-aid on his knee, to take his hand and run away with him to hide and play in the garden until his father calmed down? (Do you think the gardener knowingly kept silent about the mess they made in the flower beds when they played ball, indulgent ?)
Do you think that's why, despite Thee's current silence and inaction, despite how he accuses him of only staying by his side for money, Tanthai still seems to trust him? Why he keeps turning to him, keeps asking him again and again and again to please take him away from here? - like Thee is the only who could.
They were friends, and now Thee looks like he can't even touch him, taking a step back when Tanthai moves like he's going to reach for him. What happened since that picture? Did Thee grew up, a little faster than Tanthai, realizing that what he felt was changing? That the way they were with each other would start to attract disapproving looks and comments? Did he add this to the awareness of his situation regarding the Senator's family, of propriety and what was acceptable, and realize that this could not happen? That he had to distance himself (as much as he could, because despite it all he knew he couldn't go away)?
Did Senator Thatthep notice the comfort his son found in Thee, the closeness between them that was becoming more than the friendship of young boys? Did he take Thee aside, did he leverage the debt Thee feels he has toward him, did he threaten to send him away from Tanthai? What did Thee have to promise to be able to stay by his side? (would he have promised anything to not have to live with the emptiness in his chest when he thinks of not being around Tanthai?) Always be professional, follow Thatthep's order, never, ever forget your place and think you can even pretend to be anything more than a loyal bodyguard to Tanthai. Come back to him ready to protect him with your life but never showing him any form of tenderness, of kindness that could be seen as inappropriate. And so Thee did as he was told and kept his distance.
(Is that why when Thee finally reaches for him, his hand a gesture of quiet worry, Tanthai breathes again?)
Is that what Thee remembers, when he looks at the photo of them as children? All he has given up to be with Tanthai, in that shadow of a relationship, only to see him miserable, suffering, and hating himself. Is that what will finally make him decide that just being there isn't enough? That he has to give Tanthai more than mere presence if he wants them to make it through it?
Well, I sure hope so. For both their sake at this point.
#yes i am clowning wildly about those two#but in my defense ... *runs away*#that whole scene did a number on me is all#(i just!! i love them and the love has to go somewhere ok)#(so yeah i'm making up a backstory until we get more info 😌😌😌)#that's not even meta i'm just rambling =3#Laws of Attraction the series#Laws of Attraction#tanthai x thee#theetanthai#mine#ragongif
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As someone who has done something similar by accident I can totally relate. I also think this is just a really good trope anyway. I'm very pleased to do a headcanon for this one!
It had been a rather boring evening actually. That's probably why you weren't really paying much attention to who you were sending what text message to.
In one thread you were talking with Stephen, or Doctor Strange if being formal.
There was a flirtation between you guys but nothing had ever come of it. So you assumed that was just how he was.
It did nothing to help the little crush you had on the sorcerer though.
So Nat and Maria had finally convinced you to go on a blind date with some SHIELD agent to see if you could quell your crush.
It had also been a long time since you had gotten any real action to speak of beyond an innocent kiss.
So Nat insisted you go lingerie shopping just in case, then report back to her what you got.
You ended up with two sets both rather skimpy and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. One set was red and very tiny, the other a dark blue and almost completely see thru.
You may have inadvertently been thinking about Stephen when you picked them out, but only because you were always texting him.
So now you stand in your bedroom with makeup and hair done, high heels on, modeling each set and taking photos to send to Nat to get her opinion on which to wear on your date in a few days.
The only problem was that a certain sorcerer kept interrupting your texts with Nat and you were trying to keep both conversations straight.
There may have also been a near empty bottle of wine adding to it.
This is how Nat ended up with a text about Wong purposely moving books just to irk Stephen. Which immediately confused her.
Stephen ended up with a text that said "okay which is sexier, red or blue?", followed rapid fire by two photos of you in incredibly revealing lingerie posing all sexy.
He choked on his tea when he saw the pictures, garnering Wong's attention before Stephen quickly scurried from the library and back to his own bedroom.
You hadn't even realized your mistake until you got a message back from Stephen that said "well I like the blue personally, but the red would match my cloak perfectly. Both are just… wow."
You immediately panicked and started scribbling an apology message. "Oh shit Stephen I'm so sorry! I meant to send those to Nat. She's helping me pick out what to wear for a blind date I have in a couple days and I must have crossed the wires."
Stephen couldn't say he wasn't a little disappointed. He had been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out. He really thought you liked him. So who was this date? And why should he get the honor of seeing you like that?
"A blind date? No way. Whoever it is I guarantee he isn't good enough to see you in either set of lingerie looking so sexy like that."
The flirtatious comment intrigued you, "Oh really? Who should I go out with then? Who is good enough to see me like this? Who should get see me in lingerie? Do you have any candidates, Doctor?"
He smiled to himself, "I do have a candidate I think you'd like... He's incredibly smart, and has a great job. Although, crazy work schedule. He is also very handsome and charming. Plus he's a doctor and a sorcerer." Quickly following up with "if you couldn't tell it's me. You should date me."
Before you could respond he quickly responded with a photo… he was stripped down to his boxer briefs with the note "to even out the naughty photos ;)". You swore you had to fight not to start drooling.
He was more muscular than you imagined. Lean but defined. You couldn't help but imagine licking your way from his low belly up to his neck.
Then there was that bulge. You imagined he was long, but he looked like he was thick too and at least somewhat aroused.
You were more than a little aroused now too. Your brain was having a hard time figuring out how to respond.
You were also struggling to keep both hands on your phone.
Stephen was starting to get worried he had overstepped his boundaries with the photo when you hadn't responded for about 5 minutes.
He was also trying not to stare at your photos and touch himself, at least until you answered his offer for a date.
You finally formed your response to both his photo and his offer just as he was about to apologize.
"Took you long enough to ask me Stephen. I'm marking you down as my blind date in a couple days. The SHIELD agent can just think we got called in to do something."
"Does that mean I get to pick your lingerie for our date? Since I've already seen it. I do like the blue and what I can see thru it."
His presumption made you blush, despite the fact that he was probably correct. You probably would end up in bed together.
"Maybe now I have to go shopping again to find something else to surprise you with. If you are good, that is."
"I do like surprises darling. I'll be good to get my surprise, but I guarantee nothing after that."
You both knew you had to end the conversation now or it would devolve into full on sexting.
You also had to respond to Nat, who was now blowing up your phone trying to figure out why you texted her about Wong.
You were the first to say goodnight. "Goodnight Stephen. Looking forward to my date with a sexy sorcerer ;)."
His response was equally flirty. "Goodnight, pretty girl. I'm sure I'll be seeing you in my dreams tonight. I'll let you know whether it was in the blue or red."
--------------------------------
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