#when he is literally on the phone with her he has to tell her to slow down so he can get a word in edgewise
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WOOO second part to the pornstar!au (Tiger Harry). Find the first part here
If you'd like to read more goodies from me (including a RIDETHET!GER threesome, already up!), my patreon is HERE :)
CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, anal sex, Sir kink, choking-ish, light dom-sub dynamics
WC: 4K
“They’re both just such pretty holes,” Harry coos, and he thumbs apart her lips before folding over her to reach for his priorly discarded smartphone. His confession is mottled by a sigh, “…I simply cannot decide.”
Tiger has perfected the art of edging.
Not even in a literal, tethered-from-the-sweet-peak-of-precipice with an iron hand wrenching backwards sense — though, she’s seen plenty of that through his camera work. It’s a finely formulated craft, making her skin itchy and her cunt weepy before he’s even really touched her. And he hasn’t. She thinks, maybe he’ll nip at her clit with the pads of a forefinger and thumb, but he doesn’t even do that. Instead, he takes a step back. The phone pings. Action.
“Spread,” Harry tells her. Light. Easy. Pats at one cheek, “Here.”
Y/N obliges. She rolls onto her shoulders and tucks her arms behind her, splaying her fingers and pulling the flesh apart there. There’s a hiss like a breath coming in through little nooks between his bare teeth. It feels absolutely glorious.
And lewd. A torrid kind of heat climbs up her neck. Lingers in the apples of her cheeks when Tiger pets at her thigh — probably taping a close-up vista of her oozing pussy — and comments, “Look at that pretty, little cunt.”
Her digits jolt over her flesh, squeezing it apart almost desperately when he traces the back of a finger beside her clit, and then meanders up to her leaky entrance, prodding with the tips of two fingers. Not quite breaching. Tiger slinks one — a forefinger— up the short trail of her taint and nudges at the hilt of her plug, tracing the petals. Stuffed with silicone flora. Pretty.
“Fuck. Fucking gorgeous.”
He sighs all soft behind her, and trails lower.
“I think—“
Harry scopes the hood of her clit with a thumb and then pulls it back to scrape with the pad of his middle finger — a motion that makes her jerk and wrests a soft sound from the back of her throat. A deviously mirthy hum comes from behind.
“I’ll fuck you here—“
The tip of a finger brushes her weepy, pulsing seam.
“—first. Stretch you out a bit before. Sound good?”
She hums against the sheets. Please. Tiger traces the rim and sinks in to the second knuckle with paltry notice. His fingers are long, fill up more space than her own. Lengthier than hers. Girthier. They prod at the nooks and crannies that yearn to be grazed with little effort on his part, and by the time he’s sunk to the base of his chilled ring bands and added a third digit, Y/N is nearly drooling into the sheets.
“You are such a tight, little thing, sweetheart,” Harry hums. Enunciates his speech with the wet squelch of his fingers plunging, cradled warm and wet by her sloppy pussy.
A mewl gets muffled in linen when he scissors the pair, stretching the seam taut, and rolls his thumb in slippery circles where her slick has trickled. There’s heat swelling in the trench of her tummy; a warm tide pool sloshing in waves that crest. Higher and higher. Building. It overcomes her — this tsunami, blighting her ataraxy until she’s a slobbering mess at the foot of his bed, keeled over.
“Gonna—“ Y/N warns, brows pleated and mouth pried apart, tongue brushing bunched fabric with little couth.
Tiger milks her through it, rigid fingers pumping and thumb swirling clusters of spheres into her pulsing flesh, until all that’s left of her are melty shambles with a weakly fluttering cunt. And it does flutter, throbbing emptily as his digits withdraw. Sucks onto them like it doesn’t want to let go, and then spasms around bare atoms like it needs to be corked back up.
“Good girl,” Tiger praises. He sounds soft and pleased. Concentrated as his cockhead prods at her hole— “Got my fingers all wet, too. That’s two for two.”
He swipes them at the back of her thigh, so she feels how slick. The pink border of his mouth is probably twitchy. Traces of a smile scratch at his dialogue the way something claws in the pit of her tummy as he nudges with the fat tip. She feels melty. Frozen fudge on a summer day dribbling down the handle. She thinks, for a moment, with her knees and her shoulders seeping into the mattress, that English has slipped her mind. Nothing plucks at her vocal cords, almost as if they’ve been snipped entirely. A high sound crawls from the back of her mouth, though, when Harry tucks his cock into her.
He’d been big in her palms — the pads of her digits hadn’t quite kissed around his shaft when she was kneeling, sweeping her tongue at the slit of his ruddy head, and her jaw had strained wide apart to fit him in and swallow him down. Even still, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the stretch. He bullies his cock into her — just about halfway — forcing against her spongy walls in a way that’s nearly too much. Like a paw wriggling into a glove that’s two sizes too small. She feels him in her belly, deep, as he sinks in, inch by inch (hisses escaping the cracks of his bared teeth and scraping at the edges), and bottoms out. She tastes clean cotton on her tongue, mouth wide and muted dumb, eyes screwed.
A gasp shatters the lull, like one sucked in bobbing to the surface of a sea that’s going to ripple and kick her back under. It thaws in her achy lungs as a soft, dreamy moan when Harry fetters her wrists with one hand at the small of her back, rocks out, and pumps back in.
“There you go, little bird. Nice and—“
She cries out as his hips snap.
“Full?”
He rolls out slow, and her fingers twitch when he pummels in to the hilt. Ragged, little noises scarper from her mouth like he’s punched them from her from the inside. The ping of the phone sundering its video doesn’t register, but she realizes he’s tossed the phone again when he pets his free hand over her ass and stamps a sharp, stinging blow to it. Harry sets a brutal pace, then. Soft strokes that strain her rim taut and give her room to adjust simmer off when something scathing boils in the trench of his belly. He grapples her joints in his palm firmly, and the tempo of his hips smacking into her morphs merciless. Used and abused.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Y/N whines when his thumb presses at the hilt of petals stretching her littlest hole.
“Fuck, yeah,” He mirrors, snarling, and twists at the plug to siphon a whimper.
Inferno spumes her arteries when he wriggles the plug out, groaning, and replaces it with two wet, blunt fingertips. Three. They stuff her fuller than the plug had and have her wheezing for oxygen to mingle with the scorch that permeates her veins.
Her knees shuffle over the sheets, she squirms when he drills into her again and again and again, and he grapples at a love handle to keep her tight in place, “You asked for this— and you’re gonna take it, baby.”
Y/N does. There’s not any alternative when he hammers into her and burrows half-moons into her flesh with the ends of his short nails, but she doesn’t want there to be. She scrapes at the side of his palm with crooked fingers — the one that cuffs her wrists together and pants into the sheets.
She’s seen Tiger fuck. She’s watched the videos — a little redhead clawing at the stair-railing with wet eyes as he coiled her hair tight over his knuckles from behind, or a brunette keening under his frame as he tucked her calves over his shoulders, pounding in from the tip to the hilt and all the way back out. The ones with a curvy blonde clawing at the sheets, whimpering as he pummeled between her thighs, and the one where the woman with the pixie juddered helplessly over his lap, crying out as he stippled a slick trail of open-mouthed kisses up her jugular and manually bounced her over his cock with a firm grip at her hips that dwarfed her size. Y/N has seen so much of the impact in screen captures — slobbered chins, streaming eyes with mucked kohl and smudged liner. Tips of noses hued cerise or pinky and lips swollen and sloppy with spit. Still, she’s somewhat surprised to feel mirrored evidence over her own face as tears drip in rivulets over the apples of her cheeks, as she gnaws at her bottom lip and drools onto his expensive mattress. It’s not the aftermath yet, and Y/N is sure she’s going to be a disheveled mess by the time the camera on the dresser shuts off.
His cock spits ribbon after ribbon into her with little warning. He pounds into her, something cruel and brutal, husking growls. A groan slides up from the depths of his chest, and he slurs a string of curses, fingers twitching in her other hole when he empties into her pulsing cunt. Y/N absolutely milks him through it. Her slick walls spasm over his cock, and she whines like the same effects curdle her bloodstream and erupt across neurons.
When Harry pulls out, fisting at the base and gruffing a hum, he thumbs a bead of cum that leaks out to coat her clit. She absolutely sings, at that.
He lets go of her wrists. Twisting his fingers gently from between her cheeks, Harry blows out a breath and—
Y/N keens like he’s slapped her when Tiger splays his palms over the globes of her ass, spreads, and spits where he’d been fingering her apart. It’s glorious. Harry presses his cockhead to the glob of saliva smearing, still manhandling apart one cheek, and tells her, “Spread,” voice worn and mottled with pants like his heartbeat is thundering ichor in his ears.
She does. Her own heart hammers behind the caging of her ribs when he makes a lewd sound, breathy and awed as he smacks over her asshole with the head. He slides against her perineum when she jolts, spine zagging, and hums.
“Is it gonna fit?” Y/N beckons. Her cheek smushes to the wet spot she’s made against the sheets. It’s the most gloriously humiliating revelation.
He winds around the room to the nightstand, where, through tear smeared peripherals (like a bleary windshield coated with condensation), she watches him cull a bottle of lube. The cap clicks. Harry sets a knee up, and the bed creaks, meshing with a sound of amusement and a slick hand working lubricant over his shaft. Her lashes flutter as Tiger works two wet fingers into her, to the hilt, unceremoniously, scissoring. He pulls them out.
“F’course—“
Y/N gnaws into the smooth, slicky flesh beside her molars.
Tiger grunts. She’s forced to arch at the palm over the dimples at the base of her spine. As if to test the theory, the slippery head of his cock nudges to the puckering seam.
“…We’ll make it fit.”
Taking anal from Tiger, Y/N learns, is a feat.
A pornographically debauched sort of rite of passage. She’s seen the pictures, too. The teasers he’ll post on X with only the pink tip of his cock in frame, a ringed, vibrantly lacquered hand cradling the back of his partner’s thigh to tuck up and showcase an asshole oozing cum. And the videos; the ones where the girls rake their nails into his tri’s, knuckles bleached, necks strained as garbled moans climb up their throats as he burrows in. They’re always blissed out, after; their visages melty and the lines where their foreheads and hair meet teemed with sweat. She has to wonder, though, as he prods in, how they quite make it fit.
A high sound and a tight squeeze part-way over the tip has him petting his fingertips over the metacarpals spiking through the skin at the back of her hand.
“Just breathe for me, baby,” Harry tells her, soft unlike the seat of his jawbone and the grit of his ivory teeth, after, “I’ll go— slow.”
Y/N inhales. It’s stolen from her lungs in the form of a long, low groan when he stuffs the tip past and the rim rides over the ridge.
“Is that too much, baby? Yeah?”
She suckles a bit of the sheet between her teeth when he mends the stretch of his sloppy, wet cockhead with a thumb that swipes from her leaky slit and meshes cum against his cock and the taut rim of her other hole.
“…That’s okay, we’ll get you there,” Harry coos, “That’s the hard bit all done, yeah?”
It’s all hard. Hard, vascular flesh like a rock spearing her open, sinking in, sedate and measured. Viciously careful and slick, accompanied by a vicious stretch, despite the lengthy preparation. He’s measured in the way he stuffs in, nearly centimeter by centimeter, pausing along the way down his shaft. Even still, it’s an ache that settles deep the further he sheathes — the kind she feels down to the marrow in the little bones constructing her spine, her pelvis, her ribs when they refuse to expand for her lungs.
“Relax, sweetheart, relax. Squeezing me so snug.”
It’s just advice, but it’s strained; filthy. It makes her cunt twitch.
“Push out a little for me. It’ll— yeah, slide in nice an’ easy if you do,” Harry coaxes, pausing the leisure roll forward of his hips. Her hole flutters over him. He makes it another inch.
“Just like that, little bird.”
She’s been holding her breath for twenty-three seconds by the time Harry pats at one of her hands and instructs, “Play with your pretty clit.”
It’s sore, but not in the way that it aches as he presses into her. The pads of her fingers brush milky cum that’s managed to seep out with the flex of her muscles, and they draw a circle over the sensitively overstimulated bud that droplets have leaked over. Her lips pry apart that way her fingertips pry bliss into the outstretched palms of her neurons, grappling for pleasure.
“Oh.”
“S’it sore?”
“Mm-Mhm.”
“But it feels good,” Harry states.
It’s just that — a statement, no inquiry to the borderline prideful cadence of his words when he sinks in three-quarters of the way. It’s enough to have her breathlessly wheezing over her noises, digits stuttering in their shapes as she pinches at the hood.
“Breathe,” Tiger chastises.
For the first time, his voice is whetted, like the edge of a cutlass, and she imagines his dark eyebrows creasing. The tattoo of a ruddy handprint — a smack — gleans a loud cry enmeshed from the sheer sting of it and the way Y/N jolts, bouncing forward and back on unanticipated inches. It’s cruel. Mean with his peal of laughter.
He’s soft again. Mirthy. “You did that, not me.”
“You startled me,” she argues. Her chortles flux into another, blunt, “Oh,” when Harry rocks out a little and back in, cooing in feigned ruth.
“Oh, did I?” Harry murmurs, trailing a wide palm up the indent of her arched spine with shallow plunges, “Poor baby.”
She squirms when his fingertips wind to the vale of her waist, scrabbling up the ladder of her ribcage lightly. It’s only for a split second, but it draws a squawk and a string of giggles; in turn, a low hiss from him.
“Fuck,” Harry grapples onto her hips, craning his neck, a grin lining his syllables when he admits, “Every time you laugh, s’like, squeezing me.”
It’s devious — the way his palm scopes the cinched flesh in the same area it had the first time, reveling in the squeal the wriggling pads pry. Her jaw clinches and she nearly bites through her tongue when her teeth latch together. Despite the stretch, her hips lurch forward on their own volition and her knees shamber towards the headboard, the circles over her clit all but forgotten as her arms outstretch for freedom. It only gives him a wider canvas.
A soft huff seeps from his nostrils, like the view of her hectically sprawling is entertainment. He pins her bones in place by the hips and lugs her back, sharply enough for her to groan at the pump into her.
“No,” Harry scolds, tacking an ankle with his hand. He bends one of her knees back and keeps a grip over a love handle on the opposite side. “Where d’you think you’re going? I wasn’t done.”
He’s polite enough to cease the tickle torture. Considerate, on his part, she supposes, since he’s got the sole of her foot aimed to the Rough sawn oak beamed ceiling. The gunge of kindling lust spumes, and it clogs the sharp anticipation of his thumb pressing to the tender spot between her heel and the ball of her foot, like cruor. Instead, Tiger hones on jabbing into her fluttery asshole, drawing a slew of progressively humiliating sounds. Her top teeth seal over the sheet and she gnaws the fabric in between her incisors like a feral dog.
She doesn’t really get it until his balls are slapping against her flesh with the fervor of his tempo; what it’s like to be used and abused by Tiger. Mostly, it entails being glazed with cum, inside and out; utilizing the same loads to swipe over her clit that leaks from her sloppy cunt as he pounds into her ass with little mercy. No intent to give. And still, he gives plenty. She feels him deep, spearing somewhere between the knobs of her spine and the soft flesh sheathing her tummy. She can’t recall a time she’s felt so full, vena thrumming something sanguine mottled by him. The ache spurs the bliss building at her pulsing clit, and she retires to chew at the back of her free hand, tucked under her wet face.
Just up until the point when he yanks at her hair from behind, spiking tingles at the crown of her head, and directs through husky breaths, “Sit up. Up. On your hands.”
Y/N clambers. An inky forearm hitches over the column of her throat from behind. A sharper arch, a muscular bind over her neck, a palm that dwarfs the knob of her shoulder, and hammering at her backside with no remorse. His nails claw into her love handle, and in turn, Y/N scrapes at the tits of his mermaid, her flowy tendrils, her tail.
“You really— are a little anal whore, aren’t you, little bird?”
She slobbers over his forearm, “Yes, Sir— oh— shit, oh, fuck,” so he spiles her mouth with a couple of his fingers. She nips at his knuckles, and he digs green into her deltoid.
“Fhuh—“ Y/N slurs around the digits.
He strokes a stuttery whimper from her taste buds.
She keens, shrill, when Tiger slips his fingers out and smears her own spit over her cheek, “Oh, fuck— you’re so deep—“
Her eyes are screwed, and even still she feels the pant of his grin against the opposite cheek. The way his lips ghost and graze her skin wetly with a low murmur, “Fuck, yeah.”
He twists his head and siphons the same fingers to his own mouth, gets them wetter, and bats the hand between her legs away to pinch at her clit. To fuse saliva, and cum, and desperation, working ardent over her bud.
“Such a fucking mess. S’leaking all over my balls, you know that?” Harry purrs, nipping at her earlobe when she whines, trembling, “M’gonna fuck it back into you, after.”
Y/N erupts. It spalls into flinders with sharp borders, somewhere between his cockhead burrowing deep in her tummy, the stretch around him, the pads swiping at her clit, and the filth he muzzles into her hair. She shakes like a waving bract, torn apart in his palms, spewing cries. The tight spasm over his cock has Harry chasing his own release, shuddering behind her and doubling down in a brutal tempo that draws soft whimpers from her mouth. The sharpest one comes when his chest rumbles flush with her back on a long groan, and he twitches in her as he presses deep and empties every bit that he can manage.
Rough sex, even with a borderline stranger, merits a soft touch to meld the jagged edges of the shards back together. When he seeps out, hissing softly and bobbing, slicked with cum and lubricant, Y/N crumples into the sheets like the junctions of her joints have unfused, slipping from their sockets to melt away into a puddle. It provides an optimal view of her abused holes, one puckering at the air and dripping fresh cum. Just as he’d promised, Harry spoons a rill that trickles out with the pad of his thumb and brushes it back over the slick hole he’d just been tucked into. Feeds it back in to coax a mewl.
“Two for two,” Tiger parrots, dragging the backs of his knuckles up her thigh. It’s an obvious reference to two orgasms each, now, and wears a smile.
If Y/N wasn’t so melty, she’d probably snort. She manages something like a grunt with her face planted to the mattress. She’s probably losing brain cells. The bed doesn’t feel breathable.
Harry nudges at her hips until her pelvis sinks flush against the sheets and her feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. Then, he crawls up over her, cock brushing her clean skin soiled along the way. She rolls over against her will. Gets bracketed by his arms as he looms over, mussed, damp coils of his hair pendulous.
“Hello.”
She swallows. Her ass is going to absolutely ache tomorrow. Y/N finds she doesn’t mind.
“…Hello.”
“You took that well,” Harry tells her, head cocked and talc glinting.
The boundaries of his ruddy mouth tick upwards into a lax smile, and even still, there’s an eagerly …awake mien to his composition. She wonders how, after that, and how his cock hasn’t gone down, a plurry in shade and sloppily oiled. It prods against the bone at the side of her pelvis.
“You …gave it well,” she responds, forming the words despite the way they feel garbled in her mouth, between her parted teeth, off her lips like the crevices of her gums have been numbed with lidocaine.
He ducks his chin and laughs.
Y/N ends up lodged by his armpit, tangled by the firm muscle of his arms, thighs flush together, with her cheek squished to the plush of his pec; a cushion over where his heartbeat is clattering.
“I’m all sticky.”
“You like it,” Tiger sighs, raking a palm back through his tendrils, off his forehead, and musses the tousled curls there further.
It feels nice when his fingertips graze up her nape, sliding into the forestry of her roots. They tug lightly at the follicles at the back of her skull in a way that makes euphoria seep down her nape. It settles in the first knob of her spine and slink through to the next. She rolls her shoulders.
“D’you wanna shower? I’ve got one of those rain showerheads on the ceiling.”
If her inner thighs weren’t crusting over, the suggestion would probably feel like a much more intimate dyadic. Especially because she’s well aware he’ll slide in alongside her, slippery. Soapy froth sluicing down his abdomen, sudsy palms cupping at her backside, trailing between her thighs, and rinsing the evidence of their collaboration down the drain. It tastes like another sex tape altogether.
Harry has grapefruit musk body wash and a citrusy shampoo in his shower. They’re the same ones she’ll lather into her own matted bird’s nest.
He notes, from the sink, twisting the silvery band and thumbing over the center, where a tetragonal, incarnadine stone is seated, “You got my rings all sticky.”
Y/N stretches her arms over her head. There’s semen spilling down the insides of her legs. She twists her head and meets him in the mirror just in time to see his eyes crest, his mouth purse and carve into a simper.
“D’you wanna polish them off with your tongue?”
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always (boxer!steve x fem!librarian reader)
summary: set after the events of the incident and send her my love, you meet steve in your hometown to catch up after three months apart. has he done the work like he said he has, or is steve’s nature irreversible?
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the king of the ring (1993)
✶ the library
✶ the record store
tags: fluff, a dash of angst, a lot of comfort!, this literally has been in my drafts since the dawn of time so i’m sorry for the cheesy ending, i just wanted it out!
"what i'd give to run my fingers through your hair, to touch your lips, to hold you near—when you say your prayers, try to understand: i've made mistakes, i'm just a man."
— always, bon jovi
hawkins, indiana. march 1993.
Your luggage sat unzipped and dumped full of clothes, purses folded to fit and closet frantically thrown apart when the phone rang. Your letter wasn't even three days out, barely filling space in the mailbox of your lover before it had been torn open and consumed greedily—and while you were preparing for a trip of your own, Steve insisted he be the one to travel.
So, when you plucked the phone from the cradle on your nightstand, sinking breathlessly onto the edge of the bed for a beat, you were surprised to find his voice on the other line.
"Don't come to California," he rasped into the phone, just as out of air as you. "I'm coming to you."
Mouth parting, you felt your insides tug and lurch at the familiar sound of his syllables. "W-what? Steve?"
"I got your letter, baby. I'm coming to you, don't go anywhere." A beat followed, and while you found your breath and racked your brain for a response, Steve returned to the line. "Please."
Chest blooming with new beats, you let a smile overtake your face and reveled in the way your hands began to shake. "Okay. I'm not going anywhere."
And though he insisted on coming to you, you kept your things neatly packed in your suitcase in the closet. You never made your bed, and you had your favorite pair of slip-on shoes ready near the door. You wouldn't be traveling to Steve right now, but you knew you'd be returning home soon.
✶ ✶
The nicest restaurant Hawkins had to offer was Enzo's, a little Italian place next to a shoe store slowly going out of business. It was the only place in the entire town that required a reservation, and Steve promised to take care of all of it. You wrangled your friends and took a trip to the mall, coming away with a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a new, sleek black dress. You hung it on the back of your closet door and waited giddily for Steve's return to town.
It felt like ages since you'd been here together, and it felt strange to remember that this was where both of you have grown up and lived your lives before all the fame. Life in Hawkins had become so separate to Steve over the past few months. You had the library, your friends, your family, and what you didn't tell Steve: an application to the University of Indianapolis for the autumn. It was crumpled and weeks old, and absent of pen markings where needed—but you had it.
But now that Steve was returning, you remembered all those cool days spent on the back of his motorcycle, ripping through town. Visiting the old gym at the edge of town that always smelled like burnt tires, sharing chocolate milkshakes on the way home at the same diner you had your first date at. Afternoons in his old, dingy, first floor apartment with the mold in the bathroom ceiling and the green carpet that reminded you of your grandparents' house. Early mornings in the full-sized bed, comparing hands sizes and finding shapes in streaks of sunlight across the foot of the bed.
Steve told you he loved you for the first time in that bed. Reclined on his side, head resting in his hand, watching you scrub at your teeth with a foamy toothbrush through the open doorway, pulling your hair back to spit it into the sink. Dressed in only his sweatshirt, feet bare and toes frozen in the winter weather and an apartment with a broken radiator. When you spun around to return to bed, he confessed. You aren't sure you ever ended up leaving bed that day.
For some reason, as you breezed into the jazz-filled restaurant in your brand new dress, all dolled up and pretty, you could only remember those beginnings. The nervous hand skitters, the back knuckle kisses, the hours spent between your thighs, the hope for the future. You suddenly realized how young you were back then. Just kids, holding out on life working out in your favor.
Steve was seated when you arrived: a round little table in the center of the restaurant. Brown slacks, crisp white shirt, no tie. A silver ring gleamed on his left forefinger, a plain but handsome signet. You bought it for him last Christmas. And as you inched closer, guided by the hostess, the wavering amber candlelight gave way to something else—something new.
A patch of dark hair shadowed over his upper lip.
It curled into the shape of his smile at the sight of you heading his way. The wooden chair beneath him groaned with the relief of weight when he leapt to his feet, hands smoothing down his folded cuffs. You came to a stop at the end of the table, and as the hostess lingered to ask for your drink orders, you found yourself lost in that handsome, hairy smile.
"Hi," he breathed.
A giggle hiccuped from your mouth. "Hi."
Steve was quick to make his rounds to your side of the table, pulling the chair back. You sank down, head tipped back to watch as he pushed you in. His grin broadened with the weight of your eyes on him, following him the whole way back to his seat. Once seated, he inhaled deeply, taking a moment to gaze at your face.
"May I get you something to drink?"
You blurted something out when the hostess's eyes slid to you. You couldn't quite remember when you thought back on it a moment later—too lost in the sight of Steve's hazel eyes grazing over you. When the hostess disappeared, you both seemed to jump.
"You look—"
"You're so—"
The pair of you stopped, words tumbling into each other. Heat flooded your face and Steve chuckled, spinning the band around his finger with his thumb on the tabletop.
"You go," you insisted.
"I was just going to say...you look so beautiful."
More heat settled in your face, though you'd heard it from him a thousand times before. You shifted in your seat, tugging at the end of your dress.
"Thank you. I was going to tell you how handsome you looked, too."
Redness swelled in Steve’s cheeks, rounded with another smile. You’d never seen him show his excitement so blatantly, and something about it now made your insides flutter. He was so happy to see you, and that made you gooey and soft.
When the drinks were set down and the entrees had been ordered, you pressed your lips into a smile and tipped your head at Steve.
“I’ve never seen you with a mustache.”
His fingers immediately swept over the hair on his lip, eyes ducking toward his Coke. “Oh, yeah. Do you-did you-is it alright?”
Eyes softening, you brushed your foot against his under the table. “More than alright. It’s very handsome, Steve.”
His gratitude waned to bashful, eyes returning to the white tablecloth. You leaned forward and took a sip of your water through the plastic straw, welcoming the cool feeling in your mouth. Heat gathered and festered in your body like the surface of the sun. The new fabric of your dress started to itch around your back. You hadn't been this nervous around Steve since your first date.
"How was the flight here?" you tried, placing your eyes on him again.
You couldn't believe how dashing he looked. The mustache somehow softened him. Or maybe it was that lopsided, sideways grin that gushed boyish charm. Either way, your heart couldn't stop hammering.
"Oh, it-it was fine. Paparazzi bullshi—I mean…paparazzi mess in the airport,” Steve stuttered, wiping a hand over his eyes when his usual profanity slipped through.
He was trying so hard to be good—to be better. You wished he would realize that cutting back on profanity wouldn’t alter what needed to be fixed. But if it helped him get there, you wouldn’t protest. You just sort of liked how those crude words rounded at the edges when they came from his mouth. Like swallowing a pill for some, but gulping water for him. Easy, digestible, almost reflex. He made the grotesque seem wonderful.
But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? For you, anyhow.
“Oh, I’m sorry. We should be safe from all that here, though.”
Steve nodded, hands wringing in his lap. “Yeah…m’ not worried about it.”
A flicker of a smile flittered over your face. “Okay.”
You turned to the tablecloth then, the chair beneath you feeling weightless. Like at any moment, you could blow away in the wind. It was still hard to feel steady around Steve. He watched from across the table as you traced a run in the linen. He thought you were glowing.
“How’s Nick? And your parents, how are they?” he asked when the quiet pause surpassed comfortability.
“Nick is…at the age where all he wants to do is go off and do things. He’s getting restless, I think. And Mom is good, um, wants to redo the living room. She thinks it’s too outdated now, but…I like holding onto the 80s.”
Steve’s dark mustache curled with another smile. “Yeah, you always liked old stuff. Or ‘vintage’ as you call it.”
"The 80s are not vintage, Steve, they were only 4 years ago," you giggled.
Steve forgot just how wonderful his name sounded in the soft octave and lovely frequencies of your voice. So particular, how your tongue tapped your teeth against the 't,' and how you sort of grinned around the syllables with ease. He swallowed just at the sound of it.
"Oh, sorry, sorry." He was teasing. It'd been so long since he teased.
Another momentary quiet lulled over the table as the shared laughter fizzled out. You glanced around the restaurant a moment. Most other tables were coupled with middle-aged pairs, clinking wine glasses and holding hands against dinner plates, or gazing at their own menus and sitting as far apart as possible, ignoring the other person like a bad habit. A younger couple, late teens at best, sat at the far end near the restrooms. It must've been their first "fancy" dinner. He whispered in her ear and she looked straight at your table, hand covering her mouth.
"Have you spoken to Eddie?" A swift conversation needed to be found, though you weren't sure this was the best course to go down.
Steve, however, just shook his head down at his empty bread plate. You slipped one from the clothed basket to pluck at mindlessly to fill your fidgeting hands. They needed something to do.
"Uh...no. No, I...I haven't." He was too embarrassed to reach out knowing how he behaved. "Have you?"
You nodded. "Um, yeah, sometimes. When Stella calls, I'll say hello."
Steve's smile was small, a little wary. "I'm glad you two are becoming such good friends."
"Oh, well...she's a movie star, I'm just..." You shrugged.
The edges of Steve's mouth embedded downward, brows pinched together. "Just what?"
Heat swelled in your cheeks and under your jaw. You felt sore with visibility. "Just...I don't know—it doesn't matter. M' not much, is all. I'm certainly not a glamorous actress."
Steve leaned forward on his forearms, eyes swampy and sincere under scrunched brows. "Hey. You're everything, angel. Everything."
The sun, the moon, the stars, the cosmos and everything beyond—you were everything to him. He meant that with every fiber of his being.
And you could see that in those eyes, watching you through the glow of candlelight, waiting to recognize an understanding in your own.
You let a smile overtake your face, bashful and pretty. "Thank you, Steve."
In the next wait, you watched him reach to rub at his temples, only to yank his hands away and busy them with something else. You watched for a few painful moments before pulling your purse around the post of your chair and into your lap, snicking the zipper open to reach inside. Your pill case, a tiny metal container with a floral top, still held all the Steve-approved pain pills of the olden days. You pulled out two and set them on the table.
Steve's eyes slid to the tablets quietly. Then your hands, pushing the container rattling with medicated contents back into your purse. Even after all this time.
As his fingers came to retrieve the pills, he caught your eye. You smiled at him. Sweet and loving and kind. He smiled back, a flash of white teeth with sharp canines. It crinkled his eyes with the faintest crow's feet. You longed to reach out and touch them, feel his warm flesh beneath your fingertips.
"Thank you," he whispered into the rim of his water glass.
You pinched the straw of your Coke. "Of course."
Unable to stomach another small silence, you leaned forward with urgency before it could come, looking to Steve with pleading eyes. "Can we drop the formalities and niceties, Steve? I mean...we know each other too well for it. Let's just...pick up from where we left off."
Steve inhaled sharply, a little pained. "Not...right where we left off."
You nodded, extending your hand for him to take over the table. He did so eagerly, fingers sliding into your smaller palm until they pressed against your wrist. "Then, we'll pick up in the middle of it."
Steve rubbed his fingers over your skin, feeling the ridges and valleys of your veins and bones.
"In the middle of it," he affirmed.
His touch tickled, and another giggle burst forth when tingles sparked down your spine.
He eased forward again, mischief in his eye. "Did I tell you how good you smelled? S' my favorite, isn't it?"
You tipped your head, bashful grin coiling at the corner of your mouth. It made Steve's breath catch in his throat, the frayed edge of his nerves feel like they were on fire.
"How'd you know?"
Steve swallowed, tracing a tiny circle on the back of your hand with his index finger.
"I missed that smell," he admitted.
His written words from the past few months rang through your head. "The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink."
It was your nerves that felt afire this time. You flipped your hand to lie flat and engulfed Steve's atop the white linen cloth. The movement bumped the candle in the center of the table, and the flicker wobbled over the edge of Steve's face with a gentle, orange glow.
You wanted to feel his lips. You wanted to feel the strength of his hands on your face again. Petting you, touching you, feeling you. If there was one thing you missed, it was Steve's touch. The sheer size of his presence around you. How his warmth rang through every inch of your being and every corner of the room when you were together.
"I loved your letters," you declared, the thought of his words still poking at your thoughts.
Steve inhaled. "Really?"
"You were quite...poetic."
Steve snickered, scratching at the silver scar on his brow with his free hand.
"God," he hissed, shaking his head with a grimace. His eyes fell to the candle before slowly bouncing their way to your chin. Suddenly, he couldn't meet your eye. "But you...you really liked them?"
You placed your other hand atop the ones intertwined on the table. The look in your eye appeared sincere—genuine fondness.
"Adored."
Steve exhaled, lips parting in preparation to utter some other murmur of adoration—but then the waitress was suddenly standing at your table, holding two steaming dishes. Steve's eyes found her first, narrowing in disappointment at the interruption. He pulled back from the candlelight where he was crowding to get close to you. Your arm inched backward, heading for your lap but stopped by Steve's grip on your fingers.
You met his eye over the waitress's arm, fingers clinging to each other by the first knuckles. He didn't want to let go. So you stayed.
The fog of Steve's presence must've interrupted your train of thought, because you didn't remember ordering the meal that sat in front of you. But you picked up your fork with your free hand and sank into it anyway, buzzing with giddiness and too lovestruck to care.
It felt like everything in your body and your mind had been windswept by the current predicament. All you could think of were Steve's eyes across the table, and his fingers against your own.
You were four bites and two Coke sips in when Steve spoke again.
"Are you coming home?”
Your eyes traced the distance between the condensation dripping down your glass to the roundness of Steve’s eyes in no time. He took his lip between his teeth and gnawed it, hand off his plate to fall into his lap. You sat back, swallowing the bite of food in your mouth that suddenly grew in size. It scraped your stomach going down.
“Um…”
The table rattled with the incessant bounce of Steve’s knee beneath it.
“I want to,” you said. “I just…don’t want to go back as if nothing happened, Steve.”
He let go of his lip, ringed finger scratching at his scar again. “No, yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”
The scrape of utensils and clink of dishes filled another silence. You took another bite of your dinner. Steve gulped down half his water and tapped his finger on the table. He wished he hadn’t left his Marlboros in his jacket pocket at the coat check.
“What if…”
You looked his way again, fork prongs between your lips. He poked at his steak. The finger curled around yours felt clammy and tight.
“What if you came to New York with me? I have a fight next weekend in the Garden. You could…come for a few days…we could have a do-over.”
You swallowed. The last time you were in New York together, things hadn’t gone well. It was the first time he left a mark. The first time you broke things off and left for home.
“Um…”
Steve had never heard you say um this many times in all the years he’d known you.
“I never got to take you to Tiffany’s,” he said, clearing his throat when your eyes cut his way in surprise. His cheeks were a lovely shade of rose again. “A-and that…that cowboy guy you like—“
“Ralph Lauren.” Your lips pressed into a smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, uh…we could go there. Anywhere.”
Just come with me, he wanted to say. Please.
But Steve didn’t have to say it. You could see it in his eyes, hazels all round under a set of cinched brows. Like a kitten waiting for milk. A dog sitting for a bone.
“You don’t have to buy me,” you added, just for one last second of strength.
It all went out the window the moment you laid eyes on him.
“I know. I just…wanna show you that I’m here. I’m here, and…I’ll be better.”
You sighed, hand reaching up to fondle the locket that you forgot wasn’t there. The Christmas present from Steve that you tucked away in your jewelry box months ago. The token of a love you were certain was still there.
“I’ll think about it,” you told him.
And Steve smiled, and went back to his dinner with faith. Faith that you would return to him, like they all knew you would.
Your ticket to New York City was booked the next day. Signed, sealed, and delivered with a kiss from one handsome boxer Steve.
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#joe keery#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington angst#steve harrington au#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington one shot
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HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹
ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols
Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too.
At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in.
He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen.
He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.
He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid.
He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate.
There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.
The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?
To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.
That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.
He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now.
He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.
#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#angst#honkai star rail angst#hsr angst#boothill#boothill x reader#boothill hsr#boothill honkai star rail#boothill angst#x reader#x reader angst#cw pregnancy
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PR nightmare | oscar piastri
paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader
summary: y/n is considered a pr nightmare. let’s watch her get into her first relationship.
notes: yet another repost from my old account, i tired to make it exactly the same, enjoy!
— y/n has posted new pictures!
liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 737,938 others!
yoursername: my manger told me to tell you guys that the illuminati is NOT real and i was just joshing around !! 😂👍👍😂
view comments below!
user1: ugh this is SO BELIEVABLE
user2: | WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST
user3: yeah let's all ignore the "i wrote songs about an f1 driver!!!!"
user4: the pictures 😭
yourmomsuser: pic credits?
yoursername: you're like 60 why do you know what pic credits are ??
user5: the illuminati is totally real 🙄
mclaren: 👀
yourusername: NO THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING PLS LOOK AWAY
user6: no offense, but how did you stumble across F2 oscar ???
yourusername: my brother is like a HUGE f1, 2, AND 3 nerd and he always forces me to watch races with him 😣
yourbrothersuser: you literally ask me to tell you when oscar's back on the screen ???
yourusername: okay kill yourself ????
yourbrothersuser: @/yourmomsuser
yourusername: GOD YOU ARE SUCH A SNITCH
ynupdates: y/n and her brother; jacob, were seen at the airport earlier today, she later posted the picture on the right, on her story, confirming that she is in fact traveling. y/n has no shows coming up, and she rarely travels with jacob. thoughts?
view comments below!
user7: guys guys..the monaco grand prix in literally in two days.
user8: SHES GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX. I KNOW IT.
user9: why's her brother kinda ??
user10: you can't even see his face 😭😭 ??
user9: I CAN JUST TELL
user11: everyone saying she's going to the grand prix are like getting my hopes up ???????
user12: WATCH HER GO SOMEWHERE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT 😭
user13: okay guys..but we never talked about what songs could be about oscar
user14: IVE DONE SO MUCH THINK ABOUT THIS!!!
user13: GIRL PLEASE TELL
user14: OKAY OKAY!! one that REALLY stands out to me is "my love mine all mine" because, we all know y/n has never had a boyfriend before, SO when she writes love songs, obviously people speculate that she's in a relationship
user14: WHEN SHE WAS ASKED ABOUT THE INSPIRATION FOR "my love mine all mine" she said "i sadly do not have a boyfriend yet. but there is someone i've had my eye on for some time." SHE COULD HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT OSCAR AND WE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE
user15: istg if y/n doesn't show up in the paddock tomorrow, i will throw a fit.
liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 837,938 others!
yourusername: i could tell you where i am and what im doing, but its funny reading the theories
view comments below !
user15: are you going to a secret illuminati meeting user16: pls y/n pls just tell us
user17: this is cruel AND YOU KNOW IT
user18: pls lord, let y/n go to the monaco grand prix🙏🙏
user19: there's no way she ISNT going to the grand prix, i mean she's with her brother, and he's literally like the biggest f1 fan ever?? why else would they be traveling together
user20: maybe they're traveling together because they're siblings😭😭 ?? it doesn't have to connect to f1
yourbrothersuser: y/n pls put the phone down. i need a good nights rest for tomorrow.
user21: TOMORROW ???? IS ??? THE ???? GRAND ??? PRIX ??? ARE ???? YOU ??? GUYS ???? GOING ????
ynupdates: it seems like the rumors are true! y/n and jacob are currently at the grand prix!
view comments below!
user 22: 1 FUCKING KNEW IT
user23: everyone knew it...
user24: WHOO CAREEESSS oscar and y/n interaction WHEN ???
user25: ugh i NEED grid x y/n interactions RN
user26: y/n this, oscar that. WHAT I NEED IS TO SEE Y/NS BROTHER MEET MAX
user27: omg can you imagine how happy he is rn
— mclaren has posted new photos!
liked by yourusername, f1, yourbrother, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 837,938 others!
mclaren: monaco was a dream! thank you y/n for joining us view comments below!
view comments below!
user28: 1 SHOULVE BEEN THERE. I COULDVE METY/N. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME.
yourusername: thank you for having me🧡
user29: okay now make oscar and y/n kiss
yourbrothersuser: thank you for making my dream come true 🙏🙏
redbullracing: @/yourusername our garage next
yourusername: i think @/yourbrothersuser would enjoy that more then i ever could
redbullracing: he's always welcome to join 💙
yourbrothersuser: AHHHHHH OMG OMG
user30: okay now more grid x y/n content
user31: the way this became like a meet and greet for y/n was INSANE
user32: who would've thought there would be so many y/n fans at a F1 race ???
user33: everyone's a y/n l/n fan.
— y/n has posted new photos!
yourusername: do you think he'll try weed with me now that he's my boyfriend?
view comments below !
user34: EXCUSE ME BOYFRIEND ????
user35: OMG Y/N GOT HER FIRST BOYFRIEND!! АННННН
user36: OSCAR AND Y/N ??? HELL YEAH
user37: okay let's just pretend that doesn't say what it says 😭
yourmanger: y/n please change that caption.
yourusername: i don't know how ☹️
user38: WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAPTION!!! Y/N AND OSCAR SHIPPERS RISE
mclaren: in case that caption isn't a joke, y/n please refrain from getting our drivers high.
yourusername: YOU GUYS ARE NO FUN E
user39: i love how public y/n is. like she genuinely acts like she doesn't have millions of followers
oscarpiastri: love i already told you, we cant get high.
yourusername: YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.
maxverstappen1: i'll get high with you y/n 🙋♂️
redbullracing: no you will not.
#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri f1#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 social media au#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader
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How is Carmy going to apologize to Sydney?
The poster is out and as I suspected they're giving us ✨nothing✨ But what we do know from this is that Syd is going to be face to face with Carmy as soon as that door opens. Quick recap of this post of how their day went and how it's going to go. The day started and ended with Sydney's dad telling her "I love you chef." Carmy thinking about Claire. And then Sydney appears, then she stares at the bear.
I think this is going to be a cold open. Literally. Cold. Carmy and Syd are either going to say literally nothing to each other, or Carmy will try to apologize.
We've seen Carmy apologize in quite a few ways. Carmy apologized for being shitty to Sydney about her dish. Syd lied and said it was good between them. And as we know from what happened later, it was in fact, not good at all. Carmy then apologized for his behavior on the phone. She wasn't sure if she wanted to accept his apology until he offered her a whole new restaurant exactly how she wanted it. Family Style. Two tops, booths.
Then, Carmy brought in the I'm sorry sign. Which should really just be called the shut the fuck up and let's not talk about things sign. He gave Syd a shitty text apology for ditching her at Kasama. Then gave her another weak apology with the I'm sorry sign later for not calling her.
He gave the world's most insincere forced apology to Claire for "accidentally" giving her a fake number. He tried to say I'm sorry to Claire when his head was all over the place and she just told him to Never ever apologize. (which jokes on her now because as we know Carmy is apparently avoiding calling her to apologize)
He apologized to Sydney with the sign when they were arguing about the menu and told her he doesn't want to be shitty. And her response was just Okay, so don't be.
Carmy apologized for not knowing about Sydney's mom being dead and she tried to get him to stop because she thought he was pitying her when really he just felt bad he didn't know something that big about her life. Then Carmy apologized for being absent and not giving Syd his full focus telling her I'm sorry, not Claire's fault, which didn't really change much until he really listened to her and reassured her that everything was going to be okay and that he was there for her. Also a Thom Browne jacket doesn't hurt.
He threw one last weak I'm sorry sign for freaking out at her during service right before he got locked up.
We know that in Carmy's family he has been taught to apologize by saying I love you even when it's toxic af. He was forced to say it to his brother and mom when he was mad at them.
The words I love you played a huge role in the finale. From the voicemail Claire left Carmy to his fight with Richie. I love you started off as an apology but it's also used as a slap in the face when Richie tells him "I fucking love you" after comparing him to Donna and Carmy tells him "You fucking need me."
Which is basically Syd & Carmy's entire dynamic if you think about it. He needs her. He could not have made it through that night or built that restaurant without her. She knows that. He knows that. We know he's re entering a toxic chef era and falling back into bad family habits and being compared to Donna. I love you is lingering in his mind in so many different ways. So if he slips up and says the fucking words and tells Sydney Don't quit. I'm sorry. I love you. because that's the only way he's felt like he's been forgiven in his family, and then Sydney throws back a No, you just need me or just ignores it all together and says Whatever, we're good. because she feels he is weaponizing those words; because she knows when she heard her dad say them to her that day they were truly sincere. And in true Marcus fashion he'll probably interrupt them and the cold open ends there.
Hearing Claire say I love you in that voicemail, him not saying it back but telling Sydney I love you to try and get her to stay.... If Claire finds out that he did that.... DRAMA. Either way Carmy has been undoubtedly scrambling trying to think of what the fuck he could possibly tell Syd to make things right after he told her you're not alone and then left her alone.
Sydney at this point does not have much of a choice regardless of how well he apologizes, because she can't just quit this time. Her dad is proud of her and she knows everyone else is relying on her to keep their jobs. And it's not the first time she would be accepting his apology even if things weren't actually good between them. He's going to have to actually work for this apology and make things up to her in the long run. Because if Carmy doesn't want to be shitty he has to simply show that he's not shitty, not just say it or give her a gift.
#the bear#the bear meta#the bear season 3 predictions#sydcarmy#sydney adamu#carmen berzatto#chefs kiss#the bear fx
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A comprehensive list as to why I think Carmy x Claire shouldn’t be together:
It took Carmy a good 10 seconds to remember Claire’s name at the store
Carmy originally gave her a fake number, so she hunted down Fak to get his real one
Claire had to make him repeat his real number to her even though he looked like he was fighting for his life to not hang up the phone
Their dates weren’t dates, they we’re running errands and not the sweet “I love doing mundane stuff with you kind” the “my cars not working so I need a ride kind”
When they attended the house party Carmy was clearly uncomfortable and quite literally pretended to be someone else the entire time (Logan)
Mikey and Richie pressuring Carmy about Claire in fishes even though he clearly just wants them stop and let it go
THE PANIC ATTACK SCENE, Carmy trying to his damndest to picture Claire to help himself calm down but it’s not working and the moment he pictures Syd he can breathe again
They had brief crush on each other in high school and nothing more, they were never close friends if anything Mikey and Richie seemed closer to Claire than Carmy ever was. Their conversation in the car backs this up because Claire talks about knowing and thinking Mikey was cool, but not a lot about Carmy
Every time Carmy was asked if Claire is his girlfriend he couldn’t answer, he even has to ask Fak if Claire is his girlfriend
Not to make this about SydCarmy but to make this about SydCarmy he does all these intimate things with Syd (i.e. the table scene, the monogrammed jacket, you deserve my full focus, opening an entire restaurant with her) but he can’t even bring himself to call Claire his girlfriend
There was no point where Carmy showed any interest at starting or being in a relationship with Claire it was all forced by someone else (i.e. Giving Claire a fake number, Fak giving Claire his real number, Richie and Mikey pressuring him in fishes, Richie and Fak pressuring him even now, only calling Claire his gf after someone told him that’s what she’s supposed to be, hanging out with her only when he runs errands and needs a ride, having to be reminded to invite her to family and friends night)
Their entire relationship felt like an obligation (specifically to Mikey) from Carmy’s part, he never pursued it and never put as much work into it as Claire did
The obvious indications that Claire represents Carmy’s past while Syd represents his future
Claire telling Carmy she loves him for the first time via voicemail after only dating for a few weeks
Carmy unintentionally breaking up with Claire whilst locked in a fridge
#this is just for shits and giggles so don’t take it to seriously#also feel free to add to the list#the bear#the bear season 3#carmy x claire#sydcarmy#carmy berzatto#sydney adamu#carmy x sydney#jeremy allen white#ayo edebiri
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spilling amaretto 'cause of previous joints - matty healy
[ok so danny writer debut, huh. literally no one asked for it but here we are. huge shoutout to @abouttofillhisshoes for dealing with my countless mental breakdowns and constant useless apologizing, also all credit for the title goes to them as this is actually called "if you like pina colada dadadada getting caught in the rain" in my head, so thank you again <3]
wc: ~5k
cw: poor use of the english language (i tried), unnecessary ramblings about cocktails, there's like a tiny bit of storytelling if you squint but it all just leads to; smut, they shared one drink but they aren't like drunk and it's all consensual ofc, excessive use of the word 'darling', knife play! but for like 15 seconds nothing too crazy, brief mentions of blood, bj, like mild face-fucking??, subby matty but then again not really as i couldn't decide on what i wanted to write, it's all over the place tbh, he begs her to fuck him tho, oh and they do anal (hides in corner) like he sticks a finger up her ass sorry, reader apologises a lot, and that's kinda it i think
here goes nothing
Red neon lights hanging from the ceiling, hardly illuminating the space. The floor is sticky from the drinks people must have spilled during the previous night. Nervous, but excited you make your way to the far back, towards the bar. Checking your phone, you realise you’re 20 minutes early. Probably explains why you can’t find Matty anywhere. Or anyone else for that matter. It’s quiet, almost too quiet and you just stand there, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt, not knowing what to do.
The squeak of the bathroom door opening makes you still and your eyes focus on the figure coming towards you. Matty.
His steps radiate confidence, his sharp hand features illuminated by the neon red lights as he reaches you. His broad shoulders are covered by a leather jacket. You gulp. He’s even prettier than you remembered.
Probably because you were fucking hammered last time, idiot.
This is going to be hard, but you try to keep it professional and reach your hand out for him to shake. Matty just laughs and pulls you in for a hug instead. “None of that nonsense, darling. We are all just normal people here, no need for formalities. How’s your day been so far?”
The nerves in your stomach swirl as you see his intoxicating smile break out across his face. That has got to be the most captivating man you’ve ever seen. Scared of him being able to read your thoughts, you look to the ground.
“It was great, thank you. Sorry for being so early though, traffic is a nightmare at this hour so I-”
Matty cuts you off with a chuckle. “Punctuality is one of the key features I look for in my employees, you’re fine darling. Don’t stress.” You follow him towards the bar and behind the counter.
“I know this lighting is all cool looking and shit but you might need to shield your eyes for a second.” You stare at him with a questioning look but squint your eyes two seconds later as bright, white lighting fills the space. “House lights, magic. Can’t teach you anything if we can’t see, isn't that right?”
You nod as your eyes adjust to the new brightness. Your eyes immediately fall to the endless amount of liquor bottles under the counter. How are you going to remember all the different kinds and when they’re used? Seems impossible at first sight.
Matty catches your worried expression. “You are going to be fine, I’ll go slow and try to explain everything as simply as possible. Go sit on the counter, I’ll go over the theoretical stuff first, and then we’ll get to mixing and I’ll see if you’re any good, yeah?” He smirks as he gestures to the counter. You hop on, immediately cursing yourself for wearing a skirt. The marble counter feels cold under your thighs and you shiver, crossing your legs.
An hour goes by, as Matty shows you all the different kinds of glasses, telling you when to use each one. Then going over the ridiculous amount of liquor bottles. You have never seen this many different kinds of tequila in your life.
“So if someone just asks for a shot of vodka, for example. Unless they specify which brand they want, you just give them this.” He points to the liquor bottle on the far left. “That’s the house vodka, the cheapest one.” You nod, hoping he doesn’t catch the way you’ve been staring at his lips the entire time. God, he’s making it so hard to concentrate.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to remember everything right away. You won’t be standing here alone for your first couple of shifts anyways. Before we get to the fun part which is making cocktails and possibly getting drunk, I’m going to teach you how to pour.” Matty turns around, gets a bottle of water and replaces the cap with a weird looking one you’ve seen before but don’t know the name of. Then, he reaches behind himself and grabs a small cup that’s kind of shaped like a cone. You fiddle with your hands, not sure what he was expecting you to do, scared of messing it up. Matty notices your nervousness and puts the bottle down.
“You’re alright darling, please stop worrying too much. You’ve done a great job listening to me so far. I'm sure you’ll do great. And even if you mess up the first time, which is likely to happen considering you’ve never done this before, we have at least another 5 hours before opening, so plenty of time to mess up and try again, alright?” He gives you a comforting smile. You sigh in relief. “I just really want this job, you know? I just want to be good for you.”
Matty gives you a look you can’t quite decipher. “Oh I’m sure you’ll be perfect for me, darling.” You visibly swallow, hopping off the counter.
Matty reaches for the water bottle again and begins explaining.
“This is a jigger.” He points to the cone shaped cup. “It is used for measuring ounces of liquor. But using a jigger takes too much time and I’d rather teach you how to count your pours so you don’t have to use that thing alright?” You nod and watch intently as Matty gets another cup from behind him. He counts to four and pours the water into the cup, then sets it on the counter beside him. “Every bartender has a different count system, I suppose. But the easiest way is counting to four for one ounce, so you can count to one for a quarter of an ounce and so on.” He gets the cup and pours the water into the jigger. It hits the one ounce mark perfectly. “See? And now you do it.”
He takes a step towards you and hands you the water bottle. It’s the first time that day you properly take in his intoxicating smell. Which is mostly cigarettes to be fair, but also something uniquely Matty. Your head spins as you take the water bottle from his hands, brushing his calloused fingertips slightly.
You stand up straighter, wanting to appear more confident than you are. Closing your eyes to avoid Matty’s piercing stare, you start pouring into the cup.
1, 2, 3, 4…
“Can I just do it again? I think I overpoured I’m sorry I’ll try again-” You go on to spill the water into the sink but Matty catches your wrist quickly. Your breathing hitches and you hope he doesn’t notice so you quickly look to the ground. “For fucks sake. Stop being so-" He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead releasing your wrist from his grip, throwing his head back and running his hands through his curly hair.
Great, now he’s annoyed.
“Look, the pour looked near perfect actually. Stop doubting yourself too much, okay?” He grabs the jigger and pours the water in it. One ounce. You hit the mark perfectly. Holy shit.
You try to suppress your proud grin, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
“None of that, darling. Look you smashed that, okay? Be proud of yourself.” Matty smiles and rubs your arm. “I honestly thought we would be here for half an hour at least, you should’ve seen some of my other employees on their first day. No one could get it right the first try. I guess you’re just a natural.”
Not knowing how to deal with the compliment you wave your hand awkwardly. “Oh, I’m sure it was just good luck.” Matty sighs dramatically and shoves you backwards. Stumbling backwards, your back hits the counter. You giggle and cross your arms. “Hey, what was that for? Way to treat your future employees.” Matty rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Shut up.”
Mixing cocktails is really fun, you realise. You are also having a way less hard time remembering all the different kinds of liquors than you thought. You really hope Matty thinks you’re good enough. Because you want to get the job, of course. No other reason. Not because the way he’s staring at you is making your head spin. Not because his praise is making your stomach turn. Not because staring at his hands is making you think about how they would feel on your skin. Not because staring at his lips is making you think about how they would feel against your own. You want to be good for him. Because you want to get the job.
You snap out of your thoughts as Matty asks you a question. “Do you want to take a sip of the martini? You did a good job, tastes perfect.” He takes another large sip and hands you the glass. You look at him unsure. “Are you sure? We aren’t done yet, are we?” Despite knowing this is probably not a good idea, you take the glass from his hands. Maybe this will help you loosen up and be less self conscious. Or maybe it’ll make your brain go mush and act stupid. Taken the fact that you've never had a martini before, you don’t actually know how strong it is. Tilting your head, you gulp the rest of the drink back in one hit, cringing at the fire that coats your throat from it.
Fuck, that’s strong.
You cough slightly, as you feel the warmth spreading across your body. From the alcohol, but also from Matty watching you intently. He must be thinking you’ve never had a drink in your life. This is embarrassing.
You squeeze your eyes closed, waiting for the burning in your throat to die down.
“You alright, darling?” Matty asks with a concerned expression on his face. Your face grows red in embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s fine I think. I’ve just never had something with gin before. That was stronger than I expected, sorry. ‘S all good though. I think I can continue without tripping over my feet and embarrassing myself in front of you.” You try and joke, hoping Matty will let it go and just continue talking cocktails to you.
“Alright then, let’s just continue with-” Matty’s eyes search for a specific bottle and finally reaches for a Bacardi Carta Blanca. “This one. We haven’t done white rum yet.”
“Mojito is done with white rum, isn’t it?” Mojito is your best friend’s favourite, you hope you didn’t get it confused and say something incredibly stupid but Matty’s eyes light up. Thank God. “That’s right, darling. Mojito consists of white rum, soda, mint leaves, a lime, and brown sugar. Most people use simple syrup to substitute the brown sugar because it blends into the drink more nicely, but I prefer to do it the old fashioned way. Tastes better, too.” Matty points to a big drawer behind me. “There’s our fridge, it has all the fresh ingredients, like fruits and all that. If you could just get me a lime, please?”
You nod and turn around. You silently thank the alcohol for your new found confidence, as you bend over, purposefully hiking your skirt up a little in the process. You hope he notices, judging by his coughing while you take longer than needed to search for a lime, he definitely did notice. Grabbing the lime, you turn around and shoot him an innocent smile. “This one good enough?”
Matty’s eyes narrow as you place the lime on the counter. He coughs again and then nods. “Yeah, that one will do. Let me get you a knife, hold on.” He rummages in one of the drawers and goes to stand next to you, handing you a small knife. “Cut it up into six equal parts and then put them in a glass with the mint leaves and brown sugar, go on.” He instructs. You cut the lime in half, letting out a sharp breath. You aren’t really able to concentrate with him standing so close to you. His smell occupies your nostrils and his- “Woah there, easy with the knife, darling.” Matty chuckles as you almost cut yourself, too lost in your thoughts.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You giggle. Matty doesn’t respond right away so you turn around. The look on his face is one you can’t quite read. It’s calm, but there’s something else and it’s making your stomach turn. He raises his left eyebrow.
“Scare me?” He echoes, picking up the knife and bringing it between us. You grow nervous, not being able to grasp what’s going on. Is he mad? “Uhm, look I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t know why I said that I’m sorry, let’s just get back to-” Matty cutts you off as he reaches for your hand and places the knife into it. You know you should be scared shitless at this point, but you’re beyond excited, if anything.
“You think you can scare me? Go on, then.” Matty gives you a challenging look. You don’t respond straight away, not knowing what to do. Running away seems like the best option at this point, but you don’t trust your body at this state. Your legs feel like jelly, so realistically you’d just fall over and embarrass yourself even more. Your heart rate accelerates as Matty puts his hand on top of yours, bringing the knife up to his throat, moving the blade to press right under his jaw.
“Do I look scared yet, darling?” You gulp, now feeling like you’re definitely going to pass out any second. Holy fuck. The words are stuck in your throat, not being able to process what you’re seeing, let alone the feelings it’s eliciting in you. To think about the fact that an hour ago you couldn’t even look this man in the eyes and now you’re holding a knife to his throat and enjoying it? Talk about character development. Matty moves his face closer to yours, applying more pressure to the blade. It sends your body into a nervous shock, silently thankful he has a hold of your hand because you wouldn’t trust yourself to do something like that sober, let alone when you’ve had a drink.
“And now, do I look scared yet?” You shake your head, staring at the blade against his neck and then his eyes. “No, just a little mentally unstable and like you’re lowkey enjoying it, if I’m honest.”
Matty lets out a small laugh. “Because I am.” He keeps the hold around your hand and starts to trace the knife down his throat, between his collar bones. “Are you?”
Are you enjoying it? You know you shouldn’t, that’s for sure. You want this job after all, and if you keep going any further, that’s going to be off the table 100%. But you can’t deny the warm rush this entire situation sends through your body. You feel like your legs are going to give out. In the best way possible. Is it the alcohol? Who knew you would enjoy holding a knife to someone’s throat. Might as well buy a straight jacket at this point.
Matty’s eyes stay trained on yours as he waits for an answer. You look down in slight embarrassment and exhale a small “yes.”
Matty’s body flinches as he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and cusses a “shit” under his breath. Your eyes shoot up to his neck, seeing he’s accidentally pressed the blade down too hard and cut himself. You immediately pull the knife back, panicking. “Holy shit…Matty you alright? See, I knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea. All I wanted was this job and now I’ve cut my potential future boss in the neck, holy shit. I am so sorry, I should be leaving, see? This is why you don’t drink and play with sharp objects.”
Matty looks at you with a smirk. “Please stop panicking, darling. I’m totally fine.” You look at him confused, you have just injured your potential future boss, how can he be so calm? You were expecting him to yell at you, at least. Your body freezes as he brings your hand holding the knife back to his face, moving it up to his mouth. Slipping his tongue out to slowly lick up the flat side of the now bloodied blade, he gives you a challenging look. “See? I’m just fine, darling.”
There is a devious spark in his eyes, and it makes you clench your thighs together involuntarily. You’re glad he’s fine because you sure as hell aren’t after seeing that.
You don’t trust your voice so you just stare at him, not saying anything. He takes the knife from your grip and places it on the counter behind you.
Something about the energy in the air between you feels deranged and unhinged, but in an exciting way.
Matty takes your hand, asking you if you’re okay. “We can just, you know, forget that shit happened, I get that that’s not what you signed up for, darling. Just, get back to making cocktails, alright?” You’re not sure what comes over you but you feel like a switch in your brain flips and you dip your fingers into the top of his jeans to tug him in towards you by his belt, holding the back of his neck and crashing your mouth against his.
Matty, though a bit taken aback by your sudden action, matches the heated kiss immediately. He shrugs off his leather jacket, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. Pinning you against the counter with his hips, his centre is rocking against you and you realise how hard he is. Holy shit.
A deep moan travels up Matty’s throat as you drag your nails down his back which makes him thrust harder. This feels so familiar, yet so foreign, like you’re embracing a sinful part of yourself you haven’t discovered up until now. Matty tears away from the kiss, searching your eyes for permission. Too far gone, you’d let him do anything to you at this point so you nod, giving him a small smile. Matty tugs you forward and spins you around so your body is bent across the counter. You suck in a sharp breath, the sudden movement and the cold marble counter against your body making your head spin.
Matty’s fingers are rough with hoisting up your skirt to your waist. “This what you wanted isn’t that right, darling? Wearing that skimpy skirt and purposefully bending over so I could almost see your underwear? Staring at my fingers the entire time when all I wanted was to explain cocktails to you. Filthy girl, playing all innocent. You wanted to be good for me? Now’s the time, darling.”
You clench your thighs involuntarily at his words. Matty pulls down your black lace underwear, tossing it somewhere behind him. Your body jolts when his hand cracks down hard against the skin of your behind. Barely giving you any time to react, he laces his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back. You moan quietly at the sharp pain on your scalp.
“Get on your knees for me, come on. Let me ruin that pretty lipstick.”
Excitement fires through your nerves, and you oblige, slowly turning around and lowering yourself down, the cold tiles hard against your knees. Once you’re settled somewhat comfortably on the ground you stare up at him with innocent eyes, waiting for his instructions. Matty goes to unbuckle his belt, his biceps flexing in the process. Your eyes can’t decide where they want to look, flicking between his face and watching his hand tug his boxers down enough to release himself, wrapping his fingers around his solid length with a sigh. He teases his tip against your lower lip.
“Open up, darling.” Considering your previous makeout session and the way half of your lipstick is already smeared on his mouth, you’re sure it’s already ruined. You part your lips, letting your tongue slip out to tease him, tasting the precome and Matty nudges his hips forward to push into your mouth. As soon as your lips envelop him his brows furrow and he tilts his head back. “Fuck, that’s right darling. You’re doing so well for me.” Squirming at the praise, you’re eager to take more of him.
He starts to slowly pull his hips back, pushing forward again and then steadily thrusting as you suction your mouth around him. Taking in the sight above you, the way his muscles tense under his tattoo covered skin with his heavy breaths, the way his face is screwed up in pleasure and his hair falling into his face when his head drops forward. His fingers tighten in the back of your hair as he picks up his rhythm.
“Pinch me if it gets too much, okay?” He grunts, pushing his fingers through his damp hair, to get it away from his forehead. You nod as best as you can, pushing forward to let him brush against the back of your throat as saliva coats his skin and drips down your chin.
He picks up a fast, more forceful pace as you try and concentrate on relaxing your throat and breathing through your nose. Feeling him push further back with each thrust until he pushes all the way forward so your nose brushes against the hair of his groin.
It makes you gag around him, and Matty snaps a loud “fucking hell, darling.” before smacking his hand against the counter behind you to hold himself up. Your throat tightens around him and he whines at the feeling, snapping his hips back as he pulls from your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva dripping down your chin. His wrist wraps tightly around his base as he twitches in his hand and his eyes clamp shut as he chants a quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck” under his breath.
You can feel the intense need exploding from him, all of his movements are manic and rushed. Matty pulls you up to stand, kissing you harder and more frantically than before, only stopping to sit down on a barstool, pulling you on top of him. He stares up at you, and lets his hand slip between you to drag his fingers through your dripping core. You squirm against his fingers, feeling that throbbing pulse between your legs along with a tight pressure in your lower half.
“Shit, I nearly came in your mouth just then. Could barely stop it.” Matty says out of breath. “But I don’t want that. Not when you’re so fucking wet, I want it wrapped around me. Want you to fuck me, feel you when you come.” He is rambling, sounding out of his mind, pulling you closer so your centre is pressed against his and he grinds you against him.
A strained whimper tumbles out of him and his demeanour completely flipped as he basically begs. “Please, darling. Fuck me, ride me- anything. I wanna feel you around me so fucking bad.” You take a second to adjust to his mood swing, but then you cup his jaw with your hands. “You want me to fuck you?” Matty nods quickly and thrusts his hips up against you. You lift yourself up and wrap your hand around him to line him up with your entrance, only sinking down onto his tip and then pause.
Matty shifts under you, whining a pathetic sound as you watch his flushed face intently, raising an eyebrow at him. “Please,” he pants, sounding borderline in pain at this point. “Fuck me, I need you so bad, darling fucking hell, please-” You interrupt his pleads by pushing yourself down, feeling him stretch and fill you as Matty curses a loud “holy shit”, throwing his head back while you moan at the feeling.
The second you’re sunk onto him completely his hand finds your behind, urging you to move. Both of your skin is slick and wet, feeling like you’re running a fever as the air is burning hot and you continue to move your hips. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet, look at you already making a mess.” he grits, looking down in disbelief between us as his chest heaves, “you feel so fucking good around me, all I could fucking think about since the moment I’ve seen you, shit.”
He isn’t lying, you can feel the dampness on the inside of your thighs, feeling how easily he slips inside you and it’s only amplifying how amazing it feels. You continue fucking him, letting your hips slam down against him and listen to the symphony of pornographic sounds leaving him, which is only riling you up more. You swear you could come just from listening to him in pleasure.
“Can I try something, darling?” He pants, both looking and sounding delirious. You let your hips circle against him, feeling him hit spots that have your back arching. “What?”
“Can I fuck you with my finger here?” He asks, giving your behind a firm squeeze. “Just one finger. I’ll be gentle. Can I do that while you ride my cock?” It doesn’t register right away what he’s asking, but then you realise and pause. “There?”
Matty captures your mouth in a kiss, then teases his tongue over your lower lip. “If you don't want to, we won't. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop. It helps if you’re very turned on, trying it. If you like it, I promise, I’ll have your whole body shaking.” You think over the idea in your head, expecting to be grossed out or intimidated. You have known this man for 3 hours max, after all. But it’s only intriguing you.
“Okay, I wanna try.” You agree, still rocking against him, finding it hard to sit still with this unbearable pleasure in your lower stomach. Matty raises his eyebrows like he didn’t expect your answer to be so quick or casual, but then his lips form a slow smile and then presses another kiss to your lips. “That’s my filthy girl.”
He moves his hand up and your heartbeat accelerates when you watch him spit on his pointer and middle finger. He watches for your reaction as he moves his hand around and you feel his finger slip between your cheeks to your tightest entrance, spreading around his saliva that mixes with the arousal that had dripped back there from your centre. “Because you’ve gone and made such a fucking mess everywhere, that helps too.” He adds, keeping his eyes on yours and you gasp as you feel him press his ring and middle finger against your hole.
“Keep moving, darling. Come on, keep fucking me, focus on that. Can you feel how fucking rock hard I am, all because of you?” He asks, circling his finger against you but not going any further. You nod, trying to follow what he says and focus on that as you rock against him.
His other hand holds your hip, starting to guide your movements and even though it’s obvious he’s struggling to compose himself and dying to finish, he doesn’t rush.
You feel him inch his finger forward, only pushing his fingertip into your rear entrance and aside from feeling a bit strange and tight, it’s not uncomfortable. He doesn’t go further, but continues to guide your hips to start pulling yourself up and sink back down onto him, coaxing me. “Keep going, go on. I can’t fucking wait to feel you come around me.”
As your body moves, and you keep that pace, gradually his finger starts to inch in bit by bit in movement with your own body, not forcing it in at all and you let out a surprised moan when you adjust to it. His finger is sunk into the second knuckle, applying pressure to spots you didn’t even know existed. Matty’s mouth is grazing against yours, whimpering when he feels your tightness around him as you move. “How are you feeling, baby? Does that feel good, yeah?” He grunts, starting to thrust his hips up to match your movements. “You wanna keep going?”
“It’s-” You gasp and another moan rips out of you as he massages his finger inside of you, and you start to bounce faster, holding on tight to his shoulders. “It’s like- Fuck it feels really good.” You can hear the surprise in your voice and Matty smiles to himself. He removes one of your hands from his shoulders to press your fingers against your clit. His mouth goes to rest near your ear, with his voice strained “You’re being so good for me darling, look at you taking my cock and my finger. Now touch yourself, come all over me. Please, darling.”
You start to circle your fingers against your clit, feeling your body shudder from how sensitive you are. Matty helps pick up your rhythm with his hold on your ass, guiding you up and down as his finger continues to fuck into you and he thrusts his hips up faster. This almost feels too overwhelming, like your body can’t handle all these sensations at once and you fall forward, burying your face against his neck.
You cry out as Matty snaps his hips up harder each time you sink down onto him, and when his finger inside of you hits that certain place, at the same time he thrusts into you, you move your fingers faster against your nerves and you feel that knot in your lower half explode. “Matty, I- what the- oh my fucking god, sorry” You nearly shriek, unable to control the volume of your voice and your whole body starts to tremble as you are sucker punched with bliss through every nerve. As soon as Matty feels your pulse around him, he slams you down against him with a loud whine. “Fuck- I’m fuck, fuck” Both of your bodies writhe against each other, hot and covered in sweat and Matty threads his fingers into your hair to pull your head up and connect your mouths.
The kiss is almost pointless, both of your mouths hanging open and moaning helplessly as you ride out the tsunami type orgasms that are wrecking the both of you, Matty’s legs shake as he grunts with each release as he spills into you.
You end up slumped against him, barely able to breathe and Matty wraps his arm around your back, keeping you hugged against him. You’re honestly shocked you didn’t instantly pass out and fall asleep. Matty slips his finger from you and nudges his nose against your cheek. “You alive, darling?”
“Barely.” You mumble, feeling like you don’t even know what fucking year it is.
You feel Matty smile when his cheek rests against yours and he laughs under his breath.
“You’re hired, by the way.”
#im like about to throw up#holy shit#the 1975#matty healy#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy fanfic#matty healy x reader#matty healy x you#matty healy smut#the 1975 smut#fuckkkkkkkkkkkk
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So. On the topic of Alastor headcannons. What's your opinion on these radio themed ones:
Alastor has an internal radio. Like the concept of having songs play through your head, but more literal. He can tune to stations as if he was a radio himself. And if he really wants to, he can connect himself to other radios in his immediate vicinity and play that music though them instead.
His antlers help his radio powers. So when they get damaged (in battle, sheds them, whatever reason you wanna put here) his internal radio goes bazerk. Think; flipping stations randomly, connecting to other radios when he doesn't want it to, playing loud static at random. All the chaos.
He can hear through other radios. He once had to listen to Vox playing Barbie Girl through a TV right next to a radio in Vox's studio, for a week straight. Surely enough; Barbie Girl is now banned from all radio stations in hell.
What do you think? I got more like these if you like them. Give me a generic topic and I can probably list several under that category.
OHH RADIO HEASCANONS
Yes, but he also can turn it on and off when he needs
Never thought about it, but it's funny (don't think i'm going to use it anywhere but who knows, maybe i'll make some funzies with that)
Pretty much used it in one my comic slihdsdkjfh +headcanon that Vox taught him that, he also can control when and which radio he wants to listen (or his head would be a horrible mess) ut i like headcanon that he has some songs banned on the radio lol
speaking of other radiostations, i actually made an instruction on How To get Your Own Radio Station In Hell, let me just find it real quick... i wanted to share it long ago, but couldn't find a moment
Imagine you're a normal sinner in hell, who suddenly wants to become radio host for one small station. and it's possible! and you won't even die, and get some benefits, if succeed. So, it's kinda hard, but doable
1. You need to write a letter asking for a permission to have your own station to The Radio Demon himself.
a) letter should be handwritten, and your handwriting must be at least readable. Or you can use typewriter, if you find one. DO NOT write it on a computer and then print, you'll probably won't be able to get your station in following 50 years
b) You should send your letter via post. DO NOT try to meet Radio Demon in person, you'll just lose time, or even if you get lucky, he won't take your letter.
b*) Now you can just come to Hazbin Hotel and give your letter to Charlie Morningstar and ask her to give it to Radio Demon. Don't worry, she won't read it.
b**) You should leave your contacts, that's obligatory if you want to get an answer - that means you have to have a place to live.
c) Do not try to e-mail him, he doesn't even have a phone or computer to receive it. If someone gives you 100% totally real Radio Demon's e-mail - don't trust them, its fake
2. You'll get answer from the Radio Demon in 1-2 weeks, he'll send you set of papers which you have to fill out. You'll probably have to do it 3-4 times so don't worry, he's just testing your dedication. In these papers you give general info about your future radio station - the name, schedule, what activities you'll gonna have and what kinds of music wanna play. Include some jazz, especially if you mostly want to have modern music. You'll also have to tell a bit about yourself. You absolutely should not be connected to voxtech in any way.
2.b) he may simply dislike your ass and become a real bureaucratic monster. Keep trying - you can impress him with you dedication and he may like you in the end
3. When you got your application approved, you'll have to sign a contract, that gives you right to broadcast on a certain radio frequency. According to the contract - your radio station belongs to the Radio Demon, you'll just getting it in unlimited use, until the contract terminated. You DO NOT sell your soul to the Radio Demon. He can broadcast over you any time he needs and you can't do anything about it. He can also ask you to change something in your broadcast schedule, ask to replace of cancel any of your programs, ban music and so on. (Tho, he probably won't do anything of it). But since your radio station is his property, you're as well under his protection while you on your station, so if someone attacks you and you're unable to protect yourself and your station, you'll have a way to contact him and ask for help. You'll have a specific channel for it and list of morse codes for emergencies. You should not use this channel for anything else, or you'll lose your station.
4. After all paperwork is done and approved, you have to get equipment for your station. DO NOT use ANYTHING voxtech related, and you absolutely cannot have TV on your station.
5. After you got all the equipment, invite the Radio Demon to your station. He'll set everything up for you and give you list of emergency codes. Do not try to interrupt his infodumps even if you lost track of it and can't understand shit, it's better if you show enthusiasm.
6. And done! Now you are happy small radio host! The Radio Demon may show up on your station sometimes to check how everything's going, but don't worry about it, he won't be bother you too often after few weeks.
P. S. You are NOT friends with the Radio Demon, even if he acts friendly and calls you "dear" - that's just his normal, not-threatenning behavior
P. P. S. Don't be too personal, don't dump on him your problems if they aren't related to the station when he comes to you. Just make him some coffee, talk about weather and tell that everything works just fine
P. P. P. S. ABSOLUTELY! DO NOT! TRY TO HUG HIM! He'll just laugh at you, and if you somehow succeed he'll make everything to make you regret every action in your life and afterlife that led you to this moment (and it doesn't necessarily means he will torture you physically, once he run into masacistic freak that got a boner when was tortured)
P. P. P. P. S. If you caught feelings for him - suffer in silence and NEVER try to confess. You'll lose your station immediately and will never get it back.
All these instructions are totally written by Rosie who heared so many complaints from Alastor about how people want to become a radio host but can't do it properly
And Alastor is probably making them experience what he went through to become a radio host in life
GOD, TUMBLR WHY UR SUCH AN ASS TODAY WTF LET ME JUST POST MY SILLY TEXT
#hazbin hotel#sudden ask lol#hazbin#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#radio demon#hazbin headcanons
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IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Daniel & the Talamasca (SPOILERS)
I can see what the reviewers meant when they complained about the Talamasca & Daniel.
We start off with Daniel nervous AF, tryna keep tabs on all the mindscrewy shenanigans (at the sushi restaurant on his lunchbreak or whatever).
Today's... etcetc
Cell phones, google -- Daniel, your handwriting effing sucks.
San Francisco. Polynesian Mary's
Playboy magazines
as a doorstop? doorstep? |CLAUDIA|
Mary's cab. Coke...etcetc.
Alice. They'll come for me and Kate next--you bet your arse they will! XD
THIS TIME I WON'T SAVE YOUR LIFE
He draws an arrow from Save Your Life up to Playboy--I assume cuz those are two incidents with Armand that took place in SanFran?
I really like the Omakase bit--
About how many risks Daniel's subjecting himself to under the whims of these vampires--but also about Daniel's hubris/arrogance breaking the rules of engagement by thinking he has any say over what they do and what he gets out of it, by stepping onto their turf. If you can't take the heat, GTFO their kitchen.
I'm only just now noticing the foreshadowed titles of Dan's books. 🤦 Burning & Blood--AMC swears they're hilarious.
OK, Raglan's been stalking Daniel's career just like Louis did. So my early suspicion about Daniel breaking the NDA was right.
Which is SO EFFING STUPID OF HIM. They're gonna find out! Loumand's literally drawing out this giant tragedy about what happens when vampires--Armand, specifically--are LIED to, and you're gonna pull this mess on them!? You're not even being SUBTLE!
AGREEMENT.pdf--Daniel, you in danger girl.
Raglan, stop tryna gas Dan up b4 they put him off commission permanently. He's no body-snatching psychic CROOK like you.
Get this nosey bish offa my dang screen.
Oof, right in the Devil's Minion feels. U_U
O__O WOAH!? OK, so aside from Dan (played by EB, a white Jew, along with JK) throwing shade at Caucasian European Israelis (which we been knew), he's implying that Armand & Louis might be persons of interest in the UAE by the Israeli gov't & assassins, esp. cuz of their ties to powerful people. But it's funny cuz that's the exact same thing Lou asked about him.
So Dan's telling the sushi patrons there's Israeli spies/assassins crawling around Dubai--STOP, b4 you get that place John Wick'd! XD
Not MI6. 😭 I said JOHN WICK, not JAMES BOND. XD
Raglan's gone full rogue then--if he was still working for the Talamasca he'd have darn near unlimited funds--they got that dirty TEMPLAR money. 💰💰💰
Yeah, and they don't actually call the Talamasca by name in the ep itself--only in the Insider interviews the producers give.
Daniel, why TF are you talking SO EFFING LOUD, when Raglan's whispering, tryna act like he's on the phone NOT talking to you in case y'all ARE being bugged. 🤦 SUBTLETY, my guy. What kinda investigative journalist are you?
I'm starting to suspect they're not gonna do the rockstar!Lestat, and instead this stupid Great Conversion's gonna be what wakes up Akasha/Amel, when their blood/consciousness gets stretched way too thin with all these new vamps being made.
To attempt an interview...? I believe that. We already know Marius & Lestat stalked Talamasca members for decades upon decades. Ain't no way NO vampire ever tried getting close to humans & talk about their lives to someone out of loneliness or something. Esp. the ones not attached to the European covens & all their stupid Great Laws.
Rest in Preternaturalism, Raymond Gallant.
BLENDERS! XD But this is THE most Anne Ricean answer imaginable, cuz everyone lost their ish when she had her vamps flying around with GPS-trackable cellphones in their pockets as they KILLED people. Rookie mistake. 😂
Armand was on a cellphone in S01E07, and he is LITERALLY married to his iPad, so PLEASE, sir. 🙄
There's Santiago's COMPLICIT speech coming back. Ain't no moral high-ground here!
And I figured Armand/AMC was gonna pin it on AMC!Lestat, and his jaded version the Savage Garden.
Armand says technology distracts humans from vampire crimes, but what's distracting vampires from psychic/Talamasca crimes, huh?
ISTG these are the laziest vamps I've ever seen; they care so much about their privacy & security, but aren't reading Dan's mind at all? I hope one of them just casually name-drops Raglan or catches Daniel in the act or something.
Raglan said Daniel's laptop was "comically vulnerable," and uploads a bunch of data files on it from the Bibliotheca Talamasca bestiary/archives--WHY? To help show Daniel he's helpful & trustworthy?
RJ: Omakase?
Louis: The conversation was easy and flirtatious....
Armand: And combative.
Louis: And combative, yes.
Daniel: Arguing as foreplay.
RJ: Peruse at your leisure.
I hate this effing show. 🙇🙇🙇
#interview with the vampire#iwtv season 2 spoilers#the vampire chronicles#iwtv tvc metas#the hype is real#must see tv
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Okay so like as I’m writing this, tomorrow is my birthday (I’m gonna be 19 😭) and I was wondering if I could get some birthday headcanons with the legion of horribles (poly but platonic) + (separately) zsasz?🥺
You don’t have to finish this on my birthday so I understand if it will take time but if you can do it that would be wonderful! Don’t feel pressured though!
Thank you so much Cupid!^^🫂
'400 LUX,
-GOTHAM!VILLIANS X READER-
⋆ Characters ↬ Oswald Cobblepot, Jerome Valeska, Bridgit Pike, Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane, Victor Fries, Victor Zsasz
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Birthday HCs with the Legion of Horribles! (+ romantic zsasz)
⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. PURE FLUFF! They adore reader so so so much! Reader turning 19 :> Age gap for Zsasz! All seven of these idiots. Good luck reader, you will need it!! Suggestive parts in Zsasz's. Reader probably drinking too much tea to be healthy. Also sorry I'm a little late with this, hectic week but happy late bday adal <3 love ya!
𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇
♫ “We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you?” 400 Lux by Lorde
Number one spoiler!
No seriously, good luck. You are basically Martin #2. He's buying the most extravagant gifts, and hosting the birthday party. He's getting mad at Jervis and Jerome (anyone who can't keep there mouth shut for the surprise.)
Hectically organizing this whole mess. To his best ability. Eventually he gives up under the stress and you'll notice. Just have a little sit down with him, and he'll HAPPILY celebrate your birthday far away from everyone else.
Once you two have a minute alone, he's making you his mothers tea, telling you all about his birthdays and how she used to celebrate them with him. He really just wants to make this the best day for you possible.
Have a small little laugh with him on the couch, look at baby pictures of him around the mansion, watch him get red in the face and scowl just a teeny tiny bit.
He'll also scroll through your phone (he's horrible with technology) and look at your baby pictures too. You two end up having a good laugh and a semi-serious talk about childhood memories <3
He'll end up giving you his most personal gift when you two are alone, away from the "cretins outside" in his words.
𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴
♫ “We might be hollow but we're brave.” 400 Lux by Lorde
The only time he's 100 percent serious is when he's busy with the sheer EFFORT he's putting into this celebration.
Him and Oswald have conflicting ideas. Oswald wants something extravagant, royal, fit for you, like a coming of age. Jerome still wants to throw you a ball, but more like a child's dream chucky-cheese type birthday.
What do you mean he can't get a bunch of arcade machines and a ball pit delivered to the mansion? He's pouting.
He'll be DAMNED if he doesn't book the entertainment and a GIANT cake, though.
Will get Jervis to hypnotize some poor sap to dance for you. You know, if you're into that. Might kill him too if you're a little evil like him. If you aren't into that, he'll let him live. That's your gift :>
Did i say a GIANT cake? Yeah. It's massive. FUCKING MASSIVE. He probably ends up eating more of it then you guys, to be honest.
Makes sure it's your favorite flavor too.
Makes everyone sit down when it's time for cake and candles, if anyone tries to get up he's screaming at the top of his lungs.
Remember that "USE THE TONGS, CARL!" Yeah, he's channeling that energy to the hypnotized people cutting the cake and setting the table.
Fully looks at you like a successor (and like, his only real friend) so he's a bit pushy for this to go well. Not as much as Oswald, but still set on making this a good day for you. He just isn't as overt.
𝐵𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐺𝐼𝑇 𝑃𝐼𝐾𝐸
♫ “And the heating comes on.” 400 Lux by Lorde
Poor baby has never seen, attended, or had a birthday party in her life. It's new for her, it's intriguing. She loves this little strange family you guys have created.
You are LITERALLY her little sister, the only sibling she truly sees as her own!
It's obligatory for her to light the birthday candles (and almost burn the mansion down, chaos ensues)
Similar to Oswald, she gives you one intimate gift. Something she knows you'll love, something personal. You're favorite flowers, gems, or even a nod to an inside joke.
Arguing with Victor (Fries) about who has the better gift and who you like more.
When the day is nearing it's end, she volunteers to clean up to have some time alone with you. Everyone else is winding down, but you and her will get to talk like two best friends.
It's the only time she feels like a normal teenage girl. Just gossiping with you while putting Jerome's confetti in trash bags.
You'll probably have a little slumber party with her in the living room, eating left-over snacks and watching TV, throwing popcorn at each other. Speaking of popcorn....
"Hey, watch this!" She's nudging you, getting you to watch her make her own popcorn kernels with her flamethrower, signature smile on her face :>
𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻
♫ “You drape your wrists over the steering wheel.” 400 Lux by Lorde
He was fighting tooth and nail for this to be a tea party. Still upset it's not. Ended up still hypnotizing someone to make tea for you all. Ah, Small victories.
Also? We saw him in that chauffer outfit. He will gladly be the designated driver.
Similar to the rest of them, he wants some time alone with you. So, he's hypnotizing a limo and pulling up and practically stealing you away.
Takes you on a little shopping spree. Anywhere you want to go, he'll take you there! Even if he doesn't particularly enjoy it. (cough cough, convince stores, cough cough)
Wants to take you to the tea shoppes and bakeries.
He is LITERALLY the most BUSY bee out of EVERYONE. Everyone is so obsessed with planning and whatnot, but he actually has to do EVERYTHING by himself.
Whose hypnotizing the cake maker, the gifts, the decorations, the people, the waiters? Ah, the list goes on and on. He's a bit tuckered out by the time you too are done shopping and he's off his list of errands.
Have a cup of tea with him after <3 he will be infinitely grateful to wind down with you if you find the time during the day.
Sings happy birthday obnoxiously loud for you. He also insists everyone has perfect table manners and etiquette. (Looking at you, Jerome.)
𝐽𝛰𝑁𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁 𝐶𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐸
♫ “I can tell that you're tired.” 400 Lux by Lorde
Silent, for the most part. Will refuse to sing happy birthday, and will truly only participate if it's the two of you alone. He...doesn't work well in groups.
He's getting a slap on the wrist from everyone because of it.
He'd MUCH rather steal you away periodically through the day, to just talk to you about your childhood. Congratulate you. He's happy for you, but he's a little scared you're getting older.
Very protective. Always. No matter what.
You might hear him laugh a bit, joke around with you, just simply checking the surroundings and chaos from Jerome.
If you are someone who prefers things more lowkey, you'll find yourself spending the majority of the day with Jonathan. Eventually you two will just pass by each other every now and then, and share a brief respite from the bustling outside.
You are TRULY his best friend. He wants to make this day as good for you as everyone else does. He just doesn't know where to start.
He'll probably end up giving you your favorite gift out of EVERYONE.
Doesn't matter what it is. He'll know. It will be intimate, genuine, and a very heartfelt message on the bottom of a card attached.
"Love you, Y/N." -Jonathan
Okay, not SUPER heartfelt at first look, but for him? It's as close as you'll get to him being vulnerable.
𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆
♫ “We're getting good at this.” 400 Lux by Lorde
Jerome puts him on ice-cream duty and he's reasonably grumpy.
No, but genuinely, this is a VERY special day for him. He's a VERY proud dad!
Always wanted to have kids with Nora. Never got a chance. You really are his second chance at happiness, and he loves you so much. He gets to live out everything he thought he'd never be able too.
Wants to get more involved, but gets a little pushed out between Jerome and Oz.
Jerome probably makes him make ice sculptures. Or Ozzie asks him to freeze the body of your enemies. Perfect gift!
Similar to Jonathan, likes to keep things more lowkey. He'll sneak in a pseudo father daughter bonding moment, even if you don't know.
"So, uh, you're staying out trouble, right?"
He's asking, nudging you when you two finally get a moment alone. His voice comes out in a mumble, obviously not very experienced in this role of being a father. But he can't help it.
Overprotective dad scowling at Zsasz, you know, to get the point across. Zsasz staring riiiiiiight back.
"Just so you know...if you break her heart, I'm freezing yours." Victor #1 says, with a clicking sound, and a raise of his gun.
Victor #2 raises a non-existent eyebrow, and lifts his own gun in return. "Of course..." He drawls. The idle threats are there.
𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍
♫ “You pick me up and take me home again / We're hollow like the bottles that we drain.” 400 Lux by Lorde
He's a loving boyfriend, you just have to get through his layers throughout the day!
Of course, he's your ride to and from the mansion. Driving with him, his hand on your thigh, disco music. Waking you up with kisses and birthday sex
He's grumbling just a bit everyone else wants to steal you away. Que him being a sassy boyfriend, rolling his eyes.
He ends up just standing around the mansion most of the day, sneaking bites of pastries or making idle conversation with the terrified waiters, while you are out with Jervis. He doesn't mind. It's your day. He is more then happy, this is his element. A whole day dedicated to his girl, and free food? Sign him up.
In contrast to everyone, he's the only person to give you a gag gift. Surprisingly, Jerome takes this too seriously to give you one. Victor doesn't, though. He'll give you a whole bunch of small gag gifts, just to see that beautiful smile on your face.
He'll end up getting you a real gift though. Something precious, gorgeous, elegant. Something absolutely killer. Black onyx necklace? Yes. You'll feel the leather of his gloves on your neck while he puts it on you.
Doesn't care if ANYONE looks at the two of you weirdly for the age gap. In fact, he'll become even MORE affectionate. Y'know, just to piss people off.
Speaking of age, he doesn't care you aren't 21 just yet. He's 100% sneaking the two of you some alcohol to drink. (Not without teasing you, of course, for being a downright horrible criminal!)
Oswald, Victor Fries, and Jervis don't appreciate you drinking. They are too protective. But Zsasz doesn't gaf what they say :>
#gotham#x reader#gotham x reader#batman#gotham villains x reader#batman rogues#batman rouges gallery#batman x reader#dc comics#jervis tetch x reader#oswald cobblepot x reader#victor zsasz x reader#bridgit pike x reader#legion of horribles#j squad#victor fries x reader#jonathan crane x reader#birthday fic#jerome valeska x reader
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so um, i wanted to rant in here for a little bit. so far, i have loved your dybmn series and this makes me think that the way you write your characters complexities is so good. i’m a little afraid of sharing this as everyone here seems to love dybmn spencer.
because god, spencer is so unfair and insufferable. reader is insecure but not as unbelievable unbearable as spencer, i understand if i might be misinterpreting this but it was easy to deduce he would be the one projecting his own insecurities on reader.
it annoys me how he won’t give her the opportunity to truly enjoy her body as she wants to sexually engage with him. he claims he wants her and cares for her pleasure but sometimes it doesn’t really look like it, it feels like some sort of manipulative traumatic tactic to actually hold her hostage even though he says he’s not.
it’s contradictory. just because everything went wrong with elle, which is WEIRD considering his whore phase doesn’t gives him the right to expect that much from reader. god, he’s a profiler. he might not be able to actually read minds but i’m pretty sure he’s perfectly capable of picking up clues with his IQ.
specially during her first fucking time with a man. how would he want her to tell him she loves him if she’s still soooooooo inexperienced? literally how? i feel bad for reading it this way but the andromeda chapter fucked me upppp. there were all sorts of theories going on my mind after i read it.
she knows nothing about relationships and is constantly put into the dangerous position of wanting to please him, he never forces her but it’s pretty obvious she TRIES. how is that not enough for him? and it’s not just the sex, he has always had her affection at his disposition (i say this according to the way she’s agreed to accept his invitations to events like the bar or film festivals, the way she’s constantly kissing him without being sexual and always asking for him).
nevertheless, i’m really excited to see how the series will be evolving as they go. every chapter comes up with something new and i love that we’re able to theorize about it. i just really hope we get a big apology from spencer because….
i’m keeping this one:
💐
thank u so much for taking the time to share ur thoughts!! I rlly appreciate it lovely!! and honestly i don’t think you’re alone in disliking dybmn spencer😭 he gets a lot of hate!!
me explaining stuff abt reid below👇 there are reasons for him being the way he is it’s not ALL inexcusable i promise!!
he is honestly probably more insecure than reader. one thing a lot of people have asked me is “how does it make sense for him to be so traumatized from what happened with elle and still have slept with a ton of women after” and honestly psychologically speaking it’s really not a reach that he would have done that! often when people are really insecure about themselves they seek reassurance and validation from other people, and sometimes they go about getting that validation through sex! i imagine since elle he’s never had a real committed romantic relationship and it’s all been very casual hookups, sometimes w the same people but never breaching into romance territory (don’t mention maeve idk if she’s canon or not in dybmn universe lol)
and I don’t think he’s holding her hostage, he just truly can’t imagine that she loves him back. and if you think about it he has every reason not to. his affection hasn’t been reciprocated or received well for most of his life (elle, his dad, his mom, jj (sorry for bringing up jeid)). even if you’re receiving all the input that someone likes you, if you hate yourself enough you’ll go to crazy lengths to not believe it.
i agree that it’s not super healthy, but he knows that! in my mind that’s actually why he told her on the phone that they didn’t feel the same way—he was trying to essentially be like hey girl you should know im pretty sure you don’t like me as much as i like you, and that’s fine, but if it makes you uncomfortable then we should talk about it because i don’t want you to feel like there are terms and conditions on our relationship that you didn’t understand.
also it might be helpful to realize that in some ways spencer really is not more experienced with romantic relationships than she is. he had a situationship with elle that never went anywhere and a bunch of hookups (and maybe maeve but even if that happened it was like a fake relationship lmao they were e dating and I don’t believe he really loved her but that’s a post for another day). but he doesn’t know how to exist in a healthy relationship with a partner who really cares for him any more than she does. most of dybmn is from readers perspective and she FEELS that he’s way more experienced but that experience is pretty much limited to sex which is obviously a big hang up for her so not surprising that she focuses on it so much and his experience seems so vast. but yeah romantically he is also a late bloomer and fairly stunted. he’s kinda figuring it all out for the first time just like she is!
so anyway that was me defending reid for four paragraphs!! but also maybe he’s just an asshole idk men suck why am I defending one of them
thank u again for giving me an excuse to talk abt this!!! ily
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#columbo#season 2#requiem for a falling star#i like how one of the solid canon facts we have about mrs c is that she has a motor mouth#when he is literally on the phone with her he has to tell her to slow down so he can get a word in edgewise#if columbo has to shush you...
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Nothing honest to god bothers me more than when I buy something for myself or bring something home for ME and out of the kindness of my heart I decide to share it, and it all fucking disappears in 7 seconds. Like those wipes were meant for ME but I left them out for everyone and now they're almost half gone cause my sibling uses them nonstop and leaves the god damn thing open so they DRY OUT when I've told them twice already not to 🤦♀️ and I hate to be a mean bitch but I bought those specifically for myself for very specific situations and not just because I need to tinkle 🤦♀️ those things were NOT CHEAP BRO
#personal#tmi probably#🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️#but I learn very quickly that my sibling has literally NO concept of moderation or self preservation#sometimes even CONSIDERATION. they honest to god heard my grandma get on the phone the other day#and immediately started running the ice maker while looking me dead in the eye and when I said STOP IT#she's on the fucking phone they just gave ME a nasty look. like you can SEE her sitting right there and hear her say hello?#why 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️ would you not just wait till shes done#or getting ice at 3 am. that ice crushing machine is loud as fuck bro why would you DO THAT#and my grandpa too he was just vacuuming at 5 am and woke my grandma up#so she had to tell him not to vacuum while everyone is sleeping 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️#like are people just idiots? sometimes? or do they only think of what THEY need in that moment and no one else? 🤦♀️🧍♀️
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I swear, one of these days I'm going to just snap and tear into one of/the majority of my coworkers bc I am SO sick and tired of their behavior
#today the newest girl messages me two hours before her shift and tells me she's going to be late#the time for her shift to start comes along and she messages me again saying she's going to be a bit later than she thought#at this point i'm like fine. whatever#30-40 minutes pass and i finally take my 30 minute lunch break#while i'm going she arrives at 4 (a whole hour late)#she clocks in and then proceeds to make a phone call#despite the literal owner telling her to end the call and come work she does not#he leaves and i tell her she has 5 minutes until she needs to hang up#5 minutes come and go and i tell her she needs to hang up now#i then had to tell her 3 or 4 more times before she finally did#and then she starts stalling and asking if she can call her mom or the boss or this and that and i tell her no each time#i also tell her that she doesn't get a 15 minute break bc at this point she was on the phone for a whole hour in addition to being late#but guess what this girl tries to do anyway!!! take a 15 minute break!!!#i confront her while she's trying to leave and she tries to lie and say that i told her she couldn't take a 30 minute break#she also tries to insist that she wasn't on her phone for an hour when i literally checked the time she clocked in#and the time i finally got her to come work#when she realizes i see through her bullshit she tries to say she's going to call the owner and ask if she can go home early#jokes on her but since he was gone that decision was up to me and i obviously told her no#she got mad at me ofc but i am just so fed up with this shit#my boss might put up with it but i have HAD IT!!!#legit going to tell him that we shouldn't allow phones anymore. period.#i hate to do that but at this point it's so much more trouble than it's worth with these kids#earth duty stuff#vent#negative
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Swear to god if I was actually a proper reddit user I’d be posting the stupidest AITA posts
#so my friend rang me asking if i could print something out. mind you i got her message saying that and i was responding and she literally#didn’t even give me one minute to answer. so i answer the phone already annoyed because it’s like.. where the hell is the fire#i’m trying to eat my tea here and you make me leap out of my seat to answer the landline because you can’t wait 30 seconds for a reply. why#so i answer the phone and she sounds like she’s been crying so i’m like ‘god what’s this thing she needs me to print… a ransom note??’#why was it a template for a gingerbread house. so i’m like ‘yes of course i’ll print it. are you okay though’ she says she has an upper#respiratory infection. i’m like ‘that’s fucked up. i’ll print your thing but are you sure you should be cooking for people’#she’s like ‘thank you so so much ellen i’m so sorry for putting you out; i’ll pay you’ and like. here’s where i will freely admit that i was#being a dick. but i have told her a million times before to STOP offering me money for random stupid favours like printing literally one (1)#document for her or giving her kid a bag of crisps to keep her quiet or something. it drives me crazy when she does this because it makes me#feel like she’s trying to imply that i’m that much of a frugal penny pincher that i’m going to sit here and calculate how much a piece of#paper and a millilitre of ink costs me and charge for that miniscule sum. or like i view our friendship as transactional or something#which could not be further from the truth. like bitch i’d give you a kidney no questions asked. stop offering me money to print your shit#and she’s soooo apologetic over it too; she’s like apologising for being alive. and the self flagellating bullshit drives me CRAZY#like it does not cause me any trouble whatsoever to open one singular application on my phone and click two buttons. my printer is plugged#in 24-7 because that’s how it tells HP when it’s out of ink and to send more. a service i pay 99p a month for mind you. i don’t notice#i don’t care. most of the time i make my granddad buy my printer paper because he shows up here unannounced asking me to print dozens#of flyers from his club and doesn’t otherwise offer payment so i’m like ‘well can you buy some paper since i now have none’#so what i said to her was ‘if you offer me money one more time i’m never printing anything for you again’ which i think bamboozled her#i was like ‘i’m printing it now. pick it up whenever you want just don’t offer money’ she’s like ‘but i was just thinking—‘#‘DON’T FUCKING THINK’ yeah that was an overreaction possibly. but i was just like. i don’t want to hear your justification for why you want#to give me 5p or something for printing your stupid gingerbread house template. don’t tell me it. i disagree with it#if you want to pay for your shit to be printed that fucking badly you can go to the library#so anyway she messaged me saying ‘i’m not coming over because i don’t want to argue’ i didn’t reply but i was literally just sitting there#thinking… we don’t have to argue. i’ve told you my terms. just don’t offer me money for stupid little favours and you won’t hear an argument#from me. that’s all#i honestly feel like she’s just offering me money because she knows it makes me mad. she loves annoying me. well she’s succeeded#AITA? yes but also for the love of godddd will you just LISTEN to me. if it’s a joke it’s not fucking funny at this point it’s just annoying#personal#rant
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I’m going fucking insane.
My coworker is at Coachella so I’m the sole employee in the office for 3 days. My coworker is really good at faking niceness for strangers and randos, she’s really outgoing, whereas I hit my complete burnout point a few years ago and my autistic ass can no longer humor idiots, assholes, and old people.
Of all the idiots and assholes testing my patience today, it’s an old person that’s the last straw.
This guy will just….come into our office, every so often. Not to buy anything. Not to see the doctor. Just to chitchat. I do not want to fucking chitchat with the old man with nothing better to do than take up a working person’s time with bullshit. He’s nice, sure, but dude get out. I have a thousand things to do and I’m literally buried under files currently.
But I try. I try to be nice and make small talk. But he asks if I’m going to see the new Russell Crowe movie. Which one? The pope’s exorcist? Oh yeah, actually I am—I like horror movies.
OLD MAN SCOFFS AND SAYS ITS NOT *TECHNICALLY* A HORROR MOVIE BECAUSE ITS ABOUT A REAL PERSON. MY GUY. ITS A HORROR MOVIE. ITS SENSATIONALIZING A REAL PERSON BUT ITS 100% A HORROR MOVIE.
Thank god our next patients walk in then and Old Man leaves but like…. Get out. Get out and leave me alone, I didn’t want to chitchat in the first place, but you wanna argue about whether or not the horror movie is a horror movie??? Old Man, at least when people try to make conversation with a barista and they’re forced to play nice, you at least ordered goods and services. You did no such thing here. Get. Out.
#idiots today include: woman who walks in as I’m putting someone on hold on the phone so I ask her to please just give me a minute#‘oh it’s just a quick question!’ 🙄🙄🙄 bitch I#I’m busy. wait your goddamn turn there’s literally only one person here and it’s me.#bitch over the phone ‘I’ve been leaving messages’ she left ONE voicemail yesterday. that I returned. and she tries to talk to me#WHILE DRIVING the other person in the car yells at her to fucking call back BECAUSE SHES DRIVING#and when she DOES call back she snaps at me as I’m telling her how her insurance works bc I used the phrase ‘in genera’ ‘’not in general!!#specific to me!’’ and then the moron family wanting to waste their insurance on coordinating benefits when it’s be better served fully#using both plans but fucking whatever. and this guy wants no prescription sunglasses WHEN HE NEEDS A PRESCRIPTION TO SEE WHAT IS WRONG W/ U#apple talks#to the tune of spam#the rage has boiled over and the scalding water of my anger is fucking up the burner and causing a weird smell
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