Vienna
MASTERLIST
AO3 account
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x plus size!reader
Warnings: Fat shaming, angst, fluffy ending
Word count: 2.302
Summary: Sebastian and Y/N are taking a time-out while Sebastian finishes up filming for his new movie. They’re not splitting up for Sebastian it feels that way and in one final attempt at making amends, he shows up unexpectedly at Y/N’s door.
A/N: Written for @caplansteverogers
Inspired by the song “Gasoline” by Halsey. Lyrics in italics.
All plus size fics can be found here
Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me? Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me? Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?
It’s early when you can hear the doorbell ring, the display of your alarm saying it’s not even 6 a.m. on this dreary Wednesday morning. Swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, you stretch your arms and look at yourself in the mirror on the other end of the bedroom. You’ve got a royal bed head and your shirt is slightly crooked. In your dusty pink pyjama shorts and light grey t-shirt you shuffle towards the front door of your New York apartment, expecting to see your landlord to ask you about the rent again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Y/N…,” the voice on the other side of the door responds when you want to slam the door back into his face. “I just flew all the way here so please, just let me in.” You relent and he closes the door behind him, a guilty look on his face, before following you over to the couch. He sits down but you don’t, instead leaning against the wall and keeping your distance.
“What are you doing here, Seb?,” you question him as you suppress a yawn, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your taut nipples pressing through the fabric of your shirt. You usually sleep covered under a million blankets, so you never realised until now how chilly it’s in your apartment without the heating turned up to match the early autumn cold.
Sebastian fidgets with the paper bag he’s holding, putting it on your living room table so you can look inside it. “I found these while cleaning up our bedroom.”
“It’s not our bedroom anymore,” you snap back before you can bite your tongue, regret coursing through your veins as you see his shoulders slump like a lost puppy from the corner of your eye.
Inside the paper bag is your old college sweater, which you thought he would’ve just thrown out after your separation. There’s also the camera Seb broke on your trip to Vienna, when you first came out as a couple and were at your happiest.
“I thought you might want these back,” he mumbles under his breath, resting his back against the couch cushions as he folds his hands in his lap.
Lastly, a half-empty bottle of the expensive champagne you got for yourself the day you broke up. But instead of drinking it like you intended to, you poured it down the drain as soon as you saw a pic of Seb pop up on Instagram, the girl’s caption stating she was glad he finally got rid of this fat cow.
“Thanks for the sweater, I thought I’d thrown it out…,” you smile sadly at him, feeling grateful that you had it back. “But you can keep the bottle, though. And that camera is broken, so I won’t be able to use it anyway.”
Seb nods, already expecting such an answer, and gets up from your couch. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
Being face to face again with the man you loved so much, and still love so much, cuts your heartstrings in a thousand little snippets. That man knows just what to say and to do in order to tug the right memories. But you’re strong and just as long as he doesn’t say those three words, you’ll be fine.
Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me? Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me? Do the people whisper ‘bout you on the train like me? Saying that "you shouldn't waste your pretty face" like me?
Lingering a little too long for your taste, you push yourself off the wall and walk in front of him back to the door. He follows suit like a lost puppy until his chest is inches away from your back and as your hand stops seconds away from reaching the door knob.
“You still smell so good,” he whispers into your hair, his breath fanning your neck. “Like fresh laundry. Or an early spring afternoon in Vienna.”
You know what he’s trying to do by bringing up your trip to Vienna. The broken camera was a subtle clue and you didn’t realise it at first, but now you can see things clearly. “Don’t, Sebastian.”
The former brunet inhales deeply, running his hand down his face. “What am I doing, Y/N?”
“You were leaving,” you reply dryly, attempting to turn around again and open the door for him but his arm locks you in place.
“I mean, what are we doing?,” he rephrases, intense blue eyes burning holes in your face. “I love you, Y/N. I know we can’t go back to Vienna but maybe we can bring Vienna back to New York?”
Your fingers slide off the door knob and you sigh heavily. “I - I can’t go back to that life. I can’t go back to pretending to be someone I’m not.” Your eyes meet his and you immediately notice the painstaking hurt behind them.
“Look at you, Sebby.” You scan his clothes and give him a sad half smile. “You dyed your hair blond for your new movie. You dress up smart for big premieres and women all over the world swoon over you. They even write fan fiction about you.”
Collapsing your back against the surface of the door, you allow yourself to be cornered by Sebastian, his hands placed on either side of your head as he leans in closely. “Do you like the blond hair?”
Eyeing him curiously in confusion as to where this unexpected question came from, you shake your head at his silliness. “Of course I like your hair, Sebastian. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”
Sighing softly, you press your hands to his chest and gently remove yourself from the door, tiptoeing back to the living room and onwards to the kitchen to make yourself a strong cup of coffee. “I don’t recognise you anymore, Seb. How can you keep your own unique identity if you continue to lose yourself in all these different characters?”
Again, he follows suit in uncomfortable silence, perched against the kitchen counter as he watches your every move very intently. “I’m just the girl next door, Seb,” you continue as you wait for the coffee machine to finish, “I’ve always been the girl next door.”
“But I don’t fit into your world. I’m not cut out for the glitter and glamour of the stardom. I don’t fit into the fancy gowns designers used to send me because I have a bigger body than the runway models they usually dress up.”
And all the people say "You can't wake up, this is not a dream You're part of a machine, you are not a human being With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline"
Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you take a sip and revel in the warmth dripping down your throat and easing the soreness of the early morning wake up call, putting reality on hold for just a little while longer. Sebastian however, he doesn’t let your words wrap themselves around his heart. “I want to try this again, Y/N.”
You place your cup back on the counter, your hands falling limp at your sides as you cast your eyes downwards in contemplation. “I don’t think I can, Sebby.” The vulnerability in your words causes the goose bumps to cut like a knifes through your skin. “You promised to give me a couple days to figure things out. This isn’t exactly the time-out we agreed on.”
Sebastian takes a couple firm strides towards you, closing the distance until his hands cup your cheeks and his lips slant over yours. “I love you,” he whispers lowly and you know you’re done for. “I’m sorry but I can’t stand it anymore. You’ve been gone for too long and I’m going mad.”
“Sebastian…,” you try to reason with him but instead of letting you finish, his lips cut your off.
The kiss lasts longer than any other kiss with Sebastian before. Is it a minute or two? Ten minutes? An hour or two or three? You don’t know. You’ve lost all sense of time, only focused on the soft press of his lips on yours, that cheeky sliver of tongue slipping past your lips as you gasp when he squeezes your thigh.
He’s the first to deepen the kiss, but also the first to break it, instead peppering butterfly kisses down your neck and throat, crouching on his knees in front of you as he lifts up your shirt, looking up at you through thick, luscious eyelashes for permission.
The soft press of his lips on your tummy means your undoing. “I missed giving you tummy kisses. I missed your tummy, your thighs, your butt,… I missed my plus size girl.”
Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me? Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me?
It’s like the earth moves under your feet, your heart bursting as you run your hands through his blond hair. “You know just the right things to say, don’t you?”
“Can I take you to your bedroom?,” he queries gingerly as he gazes lovingly into yours eyes. You bite your lip in doubt but you’ve already given your heart to Sebastian a long time ago, so the choice will never be yours to begin with.
He carries you bridal style to the bedroom, shedding himself of his shoes, trousers, jacket and shirt before crawling onto the bed and joining you underneath the covers. You hadn’t even bothered to take off any of your clothes, because it’s not that kind of intimacy you’re both looking for.
What Sebastian and you have always sought in a significant other, it’s that unbreakable emotional connection that transcends anything physical. Not just plain, sexual desire but a deeper skin contact.
His hands dip underneath your shirt, his sweaty palms providing the necessary warmth you’ve been craving for all this time. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve paid more attention to you. I should’ve seen how you were feeling. I should’ve been there to help you.”
Resting your cheek on his broad chest, you hum sadly. “I’m not gonna lie, I was really unhappy, Seb. People would comment online about how sweet you were to take a fat girl to a movie premiere. And the more parties or screenings or other events we attended, the more people would chime in and voice their surprise that you, Sebastian Stan, are still in love with me even though I’m fat.”
“I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips press a chaste kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry. I can’t apologise enough.”
“It’s not your fault I got fat shamed on the internet, Sebastian.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve stood up for you…”
“You did defend me, Seb, but the damage had already been done. The worlds keeps on turning, spitting hateful comments at whoever wants to hear them. I was so close to depression I just – I just had to take a step back from everything. But I’m better now. I want you back, Sebastian, but we have to make some changes. Otherwise we’re going to get caught in a hurricane again.”
Sebastian doesn’t believe his ears. “I’ll do anything you ask of me. I will take care of you, I miss you so much. I miss having you around. I miss you so much every single time I lay my eyes on our photo wall. I can’t live without you.”
“We have to communicate more and better,” you state frankly, your voice very clear about what you want and don’t want. “We keep a low profile. No accidental videos posted on Instagram of the two of us. I still can’t believe the whole world saw me do a kissy face.”
“The whole world didn’t see you do a kissy face,” Seb chuckles playfully with a wink. “If the whole world saw you do a kissy face, then the whole world saw just how much I love you.”
“Sebastian…,” you whine quietly at his attempt to light that same flame again. But the wildfire between you never really died down because this kind of love cannot be contained.
“We’ll talk more. We’ll talk every day until you’re sick and tired of my voice. No more impromptu Instagram posts. Like I said, Y/N, I will do anything and everything. I love you.”
You know he means it and as you look into his eyes, you have to admit to yourself it’ll always be Sebastian, no matter what he looks like. “How long are you supposed to keep the blond hair?”
“Not that long anymore. Filming is almost over. Why?”
You run a hand through his hair, chuckling at the golden shine. “It’s just – it makes you look younger.”
His chest rumbles with hearty laughter. “I’m 35, love. That’s still young.” During a short pause, Seb pulls you on top of him, his arms tightly around your waist. “But old enough to make a serious commitment.”
“What do you mean?,” you pipe up as your brows knit together in thought, your lips pecking the tip of his nose as your mind mulls over his intentions.
“Y/N,” the actor exhales with a nervous chuckle, eyeing the woman in his arms lovingly, “Please move back in with me.”
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