#if the italian endearments are off that's on me it was like a 2 minute google search

[greenbergwrites]

Steve - I'm not jealous (he totally is) and please

Once upon a time (in 2017), I reblogged that dialogue prompt post for the first time and someone asked for this prompt + Steve meeting Bucky's ex. I started it and never finished it.

MOST of this is from that original post and I just tacked on the ending, finally. Enjoy~

Also, I sort of changed the prompted dialogue a bit? It's along the same vein, just not 100% the same.

--

Her name was Ilaria and she was beautiful.

Steve first saw her in glimpses through a crowded street. Bucky hadn’t shown him a picture–hadn’t even described her, beyond mentioning that she was Italian and they’d met because their fathers were business partners once upon a time–but he just knew.

The woman standing outside the restaurant couldn’t be anyone other than Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. She was a tall, full figured woman in sleek heels and a slinking, off-the shoulder dress that hugged her ample curves in all the right places. Unblemished, tawny skin and dark hair coiffed to perfection, she wore gloves as dark as her dress on slender hands and diamond jewelry that would’ve looked gaudy on anyone else but on her, it was elegance itself.

She looked like a model on her way to a gala rather than a woman waiting to have dinner with her ex and his new beau.

The look of cool sophistication so artfully arranging her face melted away the moment she spotted them. Her smoky eyes lit up, a genuine smile stretching blood red lips.

“Oh, cuore mio, there you are,” she said, holding out her hands.

Bucky smiled back at her, taking her hands his own and holding them to his chest. The look he gave her was full of warmth and fondness.

“I haven’t been your cuore in a long time, I’m afraid,” he said, bringing her hands up to kiss her gloved knuckles. “I belong to someone else now.”

Steve had been watching the exchange with a growing sense of unease. He wasn’t prepared to have this woman’s gaze on him, but suddenly, he was the center of her attention.

“Ilaria,” Bucky said, “this is my sweetheart, Steve. Steve, this is Ilaria.”

“Um.” He pasted on a smile that he didn’t truly feel. “Hi? It’s nice to meet you.”

Ilaria turned down his offer of a handshake, pushing it away with a scoff and instead hugging him. It should’ve felt stilted and awkward, but it wasn’t.

“Steve,” she said, a light accent lilting her words. “I have heard so much about you, it is so good to finally meet you!”

She pulled away, but didn’t let go, holding him by the shoulders as he appraised him.

“You are gorgeous,” she said, cupping his cheeks. “My, such an angioletto!”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. He felt anything but when standing next to someone like her.

“Look at this blush.” She touched his cheek, smiling. “I could just eat you. Are you sure you want to be with a grump like James, angioletto? I would bring you home immediately.”

He’s not a grump, Steve wanted to say, but before he could, a big, warm hand pressed into his lower back.

“I’m afraid not,” Bucky interjected, tucking Steve close to him. “This one’s mine.”

Steve melted into the embrace, his entire body warming at the words. He couldn’t stop himself from turning a shy, pleased smile up at Bucky.

She watched it all, a sweet, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“Yes,” she said. “I can see that.”

In Steve’s eyes, she was perfect. 

It didn’t escape his notice that she was also different from him in every way imaginable.

Dinner was enjoyable. The food was good and there was never a lull in conversation; Ilaria made sure of that. She talked to Steve more than she talked to Bucky, making sure that he never felt left out or excluded. For every story told about her time with Bucky, she asked Steve for one of his own.

It was a careful balance and one maintained solely out of respect for him. He appreciated that, even if this attentiveness made her even more perfect to him. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like about her and that made his stomach clench.

He felt clumsy, uninteresting, unworthy in comparison.

How could he ever hope to compete for Bucky’s attention, his affection, against her if she decided to take it back?

But she didn’t. She laughed and talked and although she touched Bucky more than once, her touches never lingered. In fact, she pulled her hand away a little quicker each time, as if realizing what she’d done. Her gaze always went to Steve to make sure he wasn’t upset.

At the end of the night, she hugged Steve again and kissed his cheek, laughing at Bucky’s huff.

“Stop it,” she admonished. “There’s nothing I could do to persuade him into my bed and we both know it.”

But then she did the most surprising thing of all. She turned to Steve, her expression serious.

“I would like to say goodbye to him as I did with you,” she said, gesturing to the spot where she kissed Steve. “May I?”

Steve meant to say yes. But he saw it in his mind’s eye, their embrace. Bucky’s hands on her full hips and her soft lips against his cheek, leaving the memory of them behind in a red imprint. The private smile they’d share, the way they’d look at each other as they remembered their shared history.

It was all a figment of his imagination, but it was a figment that left him feeling sick.

“No,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, the surprise showing on his face, but not Ilaria. 

Ilaria just smiled knowingly.

“Smart boy,” she said, tapping his nose. “Protect what’s yours.”

The car ride home was quiet. Bucky waited until they were alone and in their bedroom to gather Steve close.

“I’m going to ask you something,” he said, trailing fingers along Steve’s spine. “And I want you to be honest with me.”

Steve nodded.

“Were you jealous of Ilaria?”

Steve bit his lip. 

“No,” he said haltingly. “Not–not jealous.”

He didn’t think that was the right word, at least, even if the right word evaded him.

“Then what?”

His gaze dropped to where his hands rested on Bucky’s chest.

“Was it–was it better with her? Were you…happier?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate, but it wasn’t dismissive. That one word held a weight that said not only was Bucky taking the question seriously, he was answering with the same gravity that Steve had asked the question.

“No, sweetheart,” Bucky repeated. He cupped the back of Steve’s head, bringing him forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Never.”

He kissed Steve again, before pulling back to look him in the face.

“You have to understand, Ilaria and I were kids when we met,” he said. “And we were barely out of our teens when we dated. But by then, we had both figured out that we liked certain things in the bedroom, and our tastes were too similar to be compatible with each other. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd love to take you home."

He smiled, playfully nipping at Steve's jaw.

"You," he said, "are catnip for the right kind of person."

Steve blushed for the millionth time that night, but this time didn't feel like a failing. He petted the lapel of Bucky's jacket.

"What happened? Between you two?"

Bucky shrugged.

"We tried it for a few months and then decided we were going to ruin a perfectly good friendship if we kept going. Neither of us wanted that, so we broke up. She was never going to be my forever. And she wasn’t ‘the one that got away,’ if that’s what you’re thinking, either.”

Steve hesitated, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Is there a one that got away?”

Bucky gave him a look.

“Not unless you plan on running away from me any time soon."

He leaned down, kissing Steve so tenderly that it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“You are my forever,” he murmured. “You're the only one I've ever thought about that way. The only one I've ever loved like this."

Their lips brushed in another aching kiss.

"God, I love you, sweetheart. I love you in ways I didn’t think were possible. I need you in ways I didn’t know I could. No one compares to you, not even a little. I don’t want you ever worrying about that.”

“I–I don’t,” Steve whispered breathlessly. He really didn’t, not usually. It was just– “She’s just so perfect.”

Bucky laughed lowly.

“I have the stories and the pictures to prove otherwise,” he said, nipping at Steve’s lips. “But first…I think my baby needs to be reminded how much he means to me. What do you think?”

Steve shuddered, his head falling back as Bucky sucked at his throat.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

“Mmmm, that’s what I thought.”

Bucky bent, hoisting Steve into his arms. 

“C’mon, gorgeous, let’s go to bed.”

#nani asks #greenberg replies #dialogue prompts #criminal bucky barnes #bucky's ex ilaria #if the italian endearments are off that's on me it was like a 2 minute google search

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #famous!harry #fangirl! y/n #welcome to the final show #series #harry styles series #strangers to friends to lovers #fluff #harry styles writing #hes so perfect #italyrry

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#leo valdez x reader #leo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

[seijorhi]

Can I request for Corrupt CEO Oikawa and female assistant? She finds out he’s involved in shady underground business and tries to quit. Non-con smut, pretty please 🥺 I love your fics! I enjoy reading dark content. Your smut is amazing I’m addicted💖

Let me preface this by saying there will probably be a part 2 to this fic

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW implied non-con, blood, violence (nothing too graphic I don’t think?)

The Lion’s Den

The invitation to dinner should have been the first red flag.

You’d left the letter on his desk next to his morning coffee, stacked neatly on top of the reports and documents he’d asked you to prepare the night before. Impossible to miss.

You weren’t exactly sure what kind of a response you were expecting - a call into his office, cool indifference, security guards showing up at your desk to promptly escort you out - but the innocuous calendar invite that flashes across your screen twenty minutes after he arrived wasn’t it.

8:30pm, Da Graziella. Don’t be late x

The name was familiar - upscale, Italian and one of Oikawa’s favourites. He knew the owner, or so he’d told you, always got treated like royalty whenever he set foot inside. You used to wonder about that, why certain people seemed to bow and simper and scrape whenever he was around. Initially, you’d assumed it was because he had money and with money came perceptions of power. Of course, now you know better. It’s the reason why you wrote that letter - the reason why you should decline the invitation as politely as you can.

But you don’t.

Not because you’re scared of him - you’re terrified - but you want this to go as smoothly as possible, and there is absolutely no reason for you to be scared of Oikawa Tooru.

Not unless you knew the truth, and knowing the truth would put you in a very precarious position. 

The cursor hovers over the invite for a long moment when you feel a prickle at the back of your neck. Sure enough, when you glance up, there’s a pair of dark brown eyes staring at you from behind the glass wall that separates his office and yours.

Swallowing tightly, you click accept.

Oikawa smiles.

***

It’s a prestigious role, being the personal assistant for the CEO of Seijoh Industries, but it wasn’t the one you’d signed onto the company to do. You were an intern, fresh out of university, eager to put the last four years of your education to good use. 

They’d put you in the marketing department with six other grads and told you that at the end of the year there would be one permanent position on the team you’d all get to compete for. The first three months had consisted of coffee runs, minute taking at meetings (so many meetings), excel spreadsheets and grunt work the actual team couldn’t be bothered with, and you were almost positive that things were going to continue that way until your team was picked to lead the campaign for the new launch. For a while it did - meetings, minutes and coffee, rinse and repeat. Except now your meetings included the senior VP’s and him - the CEO. Oikawa Tooru. 

Of course nobody joined Seijoh without knowing about its charismatic founder. He was filthy rich, naturally, but he’d built this company from the ground up with his own two hands, made it into the powerhouse that it is. The media adored him, not just for his devastatingly handsome looks, but because he gave back to the community - a philanthropist at heart. He was the perfect poster boy for success in business.

(If only they knew how their poster boy really made his money.)

And he smiled so warmly and thanked you when you passed him his coffee. It wasn’t long until you felt those dark brown eyes seeking you out when the meetings dragged on, the playful glimmer and subtle twitching of his lips saying more than he could get away with - even as the CEO.

Still, you hadn’t expected it when he called you up to his office only a few weeks later to offer you the role of his personal assistant. You can’t quite remember the exact reasons he gave as to why; something about dedication and the diligence you’d shown. You’d caught his attention, and he needed somebody like you since he’d unfortunately had to let his last assistant go.

It was flattering, but being a PA wasn’t the career path you’d wanted at Seijoh. When you’d bashfully tried explaining as much, Oikawa had just waved away your concerns with a pretty smile and a laugh. In marketing, you were a glorified worker drone, one of six. Even if you did get the coveted promotion at the end of it all, you’d still be at the very bottom of the food chain, working yourself to the bone trying to make a mark on a company far bigger than yourself. With him, yes you would still be doing coffee runs and scheduling meetings and all of those mundane tasks, but you’d be working with one of the most powerful men in the country. Oikawa could open doors for you, and he could do it while making sure you received a generous salary for your efforts.

Your parents told you once never to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

How could you possibly say no?

***

After handing in your letter of resignation, the rest of your day goes reasonably smoothly. Oikawa’s gone for most of it. His calendar says he’s in back to back meetings all day, meetings which for once you were exempt from attending. It might have been a cause for concern if it hadn’t been on the agenda for days - some disgruntled shareholder that needed to be pacified, or so he’d told you.

You’re secretly glad for the reprieve; you have four weeks left at Seijoh and you’re still not entirely sure how you’re supposed to meet your boss’s eye without quaking - and the last thing you want is for him to become suspicious. But without him hovering, interrupting your work every five minutes as he usually does, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Why dinner? 

Why tonight?

You’re a good personal assistant, at least you think you are - Oikawa’s certainly never complained - but it’s not like you’re irreplaceable. You’ve heard of companies trying to negotiate with higher salaries and benefits to keep good employees, but even an excellent PA is just a PA, and the pay Oikawa has you on is more than generous. You’re good at handling his moods and eccentricities, you don’t mind that he gets irritable and petulant when he’s stressed and you know how his coffee order changes depending on what time of day it is, but that hardly makes you anything spectacular.

If it’s an impromptu thank you for the last year and a half or a farewell from your boss, why not wait until you’re actually finishing up? You’ve given him four weeks notice, even offered to train up your replacement if they manage to find somebody beforehand.

Which leaves you with the possibility that he knows the real reasons behind your sudden resignation - a thought that fills you with a biting unease.

But he has no reason to even suspect such a notion.

He couldn’t have known you’d come back to his house that night, or what you’d overheard - what you’d seen. One week later and you still can’t close your eyes without visions of blood and brain matter splattering across the walls, but-

It’s a popular restaurant. Respectable. You’re reading too much into it, Oikawa’s probably just curious about why you’re suddenly moving on from Seijoh. He’s always been a little blurry on the lines between personal and professional - at least where you’re concerned. And it’s not like the two of you haven’t gone out for meals together before, he’s often dragging out of the office for ‘work lunches’ or a celebratory dinner when a project goes well.

People quit their jobs every day. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.

Except when you arrive at Da Graziella and the maître d' takes your coat and leads you inside, you realise that the assumption you’d been clinging to was very, very wrong.

There’s not a soul inside of the restaurant save for Oikawa, watching you from the lone table set up in the centre of the room. Bathed in the warm, flickering light of the nearby candles, Oikawa smiles as you falter, your wide eyes darting around the empty restaurant before settling back on him.

There’s a pit in your stomach, an icy tendril of fear that creeps up your spine. It’s a familiar sensation - you’d felt it back at the mansion too, the moment you’d glanced through the crack in his office door and saw him eyeing the handguns in the open briefcase on his desk. You should have left then, before you’d seen anything incriminating, and you should definitely leave now - but it’s too late for that.

It was too late the moment you set foot inside. 

You’ve walked willingly into the lion’s den, all you can do now is smile and pray that it’s not in the mood to play with its food.

“Ah, wonderful, you’re early. Would you like some wine to start off with, darling?” Oikawa asks. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

The endearment is new, but you can’t seem to focus on that when your heart is hammering against your chest. Easing yourself into the seat pulled for you, you wet your lips, but even then you can’t quite seem to make the words come out. 

No matter, Oikawa chooses for you, murmuring the name of an italian vintage to the maître d' who nods approvingly and disappears, leaving the two of you alone.

“S-sir?” you finally manage to utter, though it comes out as more of a question than a greeting, “I- why is everyone…”

“Gone?” he supplies for you, taking a sip from his own glass. He shrugs leisurely, “I figured that it would be nicer if it were just us two, don’t you agree?”

No.

“Oh, um, yeah… I guess.”

He laughs, the sound like chiming bells and you know that he doesn’t believe you. It doesn’t matter, you’re here and alone and there is very little you can do to change either of those things. “So tense, Y/N. Really, you should relax. I would have thought after almost two years together, you’d know that I don’t bite.”

More images flash to the forefront of your mind; the sneer curling at his lips as he yanks out his pocket squares and uses it to wipe the splatter of blood from his face. One body on the floor, the other squirming away from his outstretched hand. The crunch of bones breaking, pleading whimpers and then-

No, Oikawa might not bite, but that doesn’t set you at ease.

But even now, doubt flickers. He can’t have known you were there, that you’d overheard the talk of shipments and bribes, a deal gone wrong. Nobody saw you come, you have your own set of keys. He can’t know.

He can’t know.

He can’t… 

Oikawa’s grin widens, twisting into a smirk. “Well, that, and I suppose that I don’t particularly think what’s about to be said makes for polite dinnertime conversation. At least not where most people are concerned.”

Fear strikes at your heart, constricting until it hurts to breathe, but you will your tense muscles to relax, force what you hope - pray - is a convincing expression of mild confusion and absolutely nothing else onto your face.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

It’s a wonder that he can’t hear the frantic pounding of your chest as he leans closer, dropping his chin onto a propped up arm, “Tell me something, darling. If I’d invited you back to my humble abode instead of this restaurant, would you have come?” 

You swallow tightly, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. There’s a look in those pretty brown eyes, a glint of something darker, something amused - it reminds you of a cat toying with a mouse and it sets you on edge. “You did leave so quickly the last time you dropped by. You didn’t even stop to say hello.”

Ice douses your system as sheer panic spikes. You’re out of your seat before your brain even registers you’ve moved, knocking it clear from the table in your stumbling haste - but Oikawa’s faster. Long, pale fingers seize your wrist, keeping you in place with a deceptively strong grip.

Those fingers, trailing softly along the barrel of the gun. It’s more than cursory, there’s something almost loving and tender in the way he traces the smooth ridges of the weapon before he picks it up, testing its weight in his hand. Oikawa hums thoughtfully, eyeing the crying man kneeling before him. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Sit back down.” His voice is pleasant, but even as adrenaline pumps through your veins urging you to run, to fight - you know better than to believe it’s anything less than an order. “Good girl,” he purrs as you fumble for your chair.

Back at the mansion, you’d been scared. Horrified at the cold brutality of what you’d witnessed, your entire world seemingly falling out from beneath you. But even with your thoughts a hysterical tangle and nausea threatening to overtake you, your only focus had been on getting out unseen.

This, sitting face to face with a mobster - a man you thought you knew - with all the cards laid bare before you… it’s a whole new kind of terror. He could kill you, with his hands wrapped around your throat or the gun he’s undoubtedly carrying, it doesn’t make a difference. You’re not strong enough to fight him off and the only other person you’ve seen since arriving is the maître d' - you might have wilfully walked into this trap, but you’re not so naive as to believe Oikawa doesn’t have him and any other employees working tonight firmly in his pockets. They won’t come if you scream. 

Tears prick at your eyes. 

You are utterly alone and entirely at his mercy, and all that you can do is beg.

“Please, please, sir, I… I swear I-I didn’t see anyth-”

A single raised finger stops you. Oikawa tuts, shaking his head. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Y/N. I know exactly what you saw, and I can guess well enough what you overheard. Certainly enough for those irritating little cops to start sticking their noses where they don’t belong if you decided to talk. Do you really think I’d leave my home open for just anybody to waltz in without my knowledge? Please, darling. What kind of a man do you take me for?” he laughs, and you fight back a broken plea, desperately biting down on your lip in an effort to stop yourself from crying.

“But,” he continues, reaching across the table to take your hand once more, “I don’t want you to worry about that, sweetheart. It’s in the past - and not why I asked you here.”

His thumb strokes the back of your palm causing goosebumps to prickle along your arms. Your heart is sitting in your throat, your stomach twisting in knots at the casual, innocent touch. You’re trembling in your seat, on the verge of ears and it feels like he’s testing you, except you don’t have a clue what you’re supposed to say, and you’re terrified that if you get it wrong, he’ll hurt you. “… I-it isn’t?”

Oikawa smiles, “No. I suppose in a way, it’s a blessing in disguise that you saw me for all that I am. It’s forced me to do something I should have done a long time ago.”

After a beat of silence and a gentle squeeze of your cold, rigid hand, you realise that he’s waiting for you to play along. “O-oh, um. What’s that?” your voice shakes, betraying the rapidly rising fear and panic eating away at you, but Oikawa pays it no mind.

“I understand why you resigned after witnessing what you did… it scared you, didn’t it? I scare you.”

There’s no point in lying, not when the evidence is right in front of him, so you nod.

He sighs heavily, but the amused glint in his eyes doesn’t shift. Even now, he’s still toying with you. “You’re a terrible actress,” he declares absentmindedly before his gaze sharpens. “There was always going to be an expiration date on our little arrangement, as much as I might have wished it otherwise.” 

There’s something strangely wistful in his expression as he toys with your fingers, but the words, the gilded implications woven between them, fly right over your head. All you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the sharp drag of every breath filling your lungs as you wait for the penny to drop. “We can’t go back to what we had before, but you understand, don’t you, darling, that I can’t just have you wandering around knowing what you do.”

Your stomach drops, eyes widening in abject horror, “Please - please, Oikawa sir-”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “If I offered you a choice; come willingly with me back home without making a fuss or I blow your pretty brains across the restaurant here and now, which would you pick?” he muses.

Fear is a funny thing. It makes the logical illogical, turns rational thought to mush, pushes you into a state of instinct that overrides everything else. Common sense would tell you that the threat of torture and whatever other nastiness that might await you back at Oikawa’s mansion was still the preferable option to the certainty of death at his hands should you refuse, but common sense had long since abandoned you. 

As a fresh wave of adrenaline surges through your veins, you rip your hand from his and leap to your feet. This time you don’t give him a moment, kicking off your heels to sprint for the door. Distantly you register the hissed curse behind you. All you can think of is escape, running until Oikawa and the restaurant and everything you’d seen and learned was left in the dirt behind you. You don’t want to die, but you can’t bear the thought of what he’ll do to you if you submit. Will he drag it out, make your death slow and painful? Let you rot in the basement, forgotten by everyone? Will he make you beg and plead for mercy before he ends it?

Fear makes you clumsy - it slows you down. 

You make it five steps before a pair of arms constrict around you, one around your waist, hauling you up from the floor, the other around your mouth, muffling the hysterical scream that rips from your throat. Legs flailing, kicking uselessly at nothing, you’re wrestled back inside. Oikawa’s lips are at your ear, growling something but you can’t make sense of the words over your harsh, panicked sobs, the sound of your frenzied pulse pounding in your ears. 

It’s only when you’re tossed like a sack of potatoes back onto the table, knocking the air from your lungs that time seems to slow and clarity returns. Oikawa’s looming over you, panting, dark pupils swallowing the iris, yet instead of the fury you expect to see written across his face, Oikawa is grinning - wide and delighted. 

“Wrong choice, baby,” he sings, quickly shucking off his jacket before grabbing the top of your dress and ripping. 

Your eyes zero in on the handgun strapped to his chest, just within arms reach. 

“But it’s okay,” he kisses you, moaning as he forces your mouth open, nipping harshly at your lips when you try to squirm away. “I forgive you, always sweetheart, you just have to make it up to me.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x female reader #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #tw implied noncon #tw blood #tw violence #my writing #yandere fic #female reader #I lied about the smut ok but there’ll probably be a part 2

[goldentournesol]

Mon Cher

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

Part 2 of Mon Lapin

The one where Spencer and Reader finally go on a date after pining over each other for too long. (Reader owns a French bakery)

Length: 2.6k

A/N: tooth-rotting, cheesy FLUFF! thank you to everyone who requested a part 2, i wasn’t going to write it but y’all--i think this might be my favorite thing that i’ve written so far!

masterlist

Spencer knew that across many cultures, pink lilies represented love, admiration, and compassion. All things he wished to convey to Y/N, so it really wasn’t difficult to pick a bouquet of pink lilies for her. His heart thumped against his ribcage as he neared the bakery where he told her he’d meet her. He hoped he wasn’t too forward with her yesterday, but he was getting antsy. Despite seeing her a couple times a week when he was in town, it was never enough just to chat casually. He wanted to lose himself in conversations with her. With all his ambition for knowledge, he couldn’t think of a subject he wished to memorize more than everything she is. 

He cleared his throat and made sure his tie was as straight as it possibly could be before pushing the glass door of her bakery, the chime of the small bell reaching the corners of the store. His eyes swept across the familiar scenery, but she wasn’t there. He approached the counter nervously.

“Hey, Marissa. Is Y/N here yet?” He asked her coworker and she beamed upon seeing him.

“Hey! She should be here any minute. I kind of forced her to go home to get ready and all, it’s really hard getting her out of the bakery!” She laughed and Spencer nodded, smiling, grateful for the extra minutes he needed to compose himself. 

He found Y/N’s dedication to her job endearing. He glanced down at the bouquet and adjusted the flowers in an attempt to find something to do with his hands instead of tapping nervously against the counter. Why was he so nervous? She wouldn’t have agreed to the date if she wasn’t interested. Well, then again, he didn’t really give her an option. Was that the wrong decision? 

Just before he could spiral into his thoughts any deeper, the bell chimed again, causing him to turn to face the door. The air evaded his lungs as soon as his eyes settled on her, an occurrence Spencer didn’t think happened in real life. He’s read about it, sure, but he never thought he’d ever experience it. She strolled in, a dark emerald dress flowing with her movement. Spencer had to remind himself what the function of the respiratory system was when she approached him. 

“Spencer?” She spoke softly, realizing that he hadn’t said anything. He blinked, snapping out of his daze with a prominent blush. 

“Y-yes. Hi, sorry, um,” he paused, a bashful, sheepish grin overtaking his face, “you look beautiful, Y/N.” She mirrored his smile, cheeks reddening as she glanced at the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Merci, mon lapin. [my bunny] You look just as dashing as ever. I see you remembered the lilies.” She sent him a sly smile. He had forgotten about the bouquet in his hand under her intense gaze. He nodded, his arm extending the flowers to her. She graciously accepted them and immediately buried her nose in the center of the bouquet, emerging with a smile that could make Spencer’s knees buckle if he wasn’t careful.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. Give me one moment.” She scurried off into the kitchen of the bakery and returned with the largest cup she could find. She settled the flowers in their new home before picking one out of the bunch and securing it to one of the bobby pins near her left ear. Spencer was positive he resembled a love-sick puppy as he took in the sight. Marissa was pretending to wipe down a table in the background, but really she was fawning over the two lovebirds. 

“Shall we?” Spencer managed to speak, gesturing towards the door. 

He tried to contain his grin as he stared at her ethereality. She smiled up at him and nodded, taking one last look at Marissa before she left. Her coworker sent her a teasing look and waved goodbye. Spencer offered his arm to Y/N as they stepped into the chilly air. She gladly took it and beamed up at him. He tried not to focus on the way his arm felt tingly with hers around it.

“I’m so glad we’re finally doing this, Spencer.” She spoke and he nodded.

“Me too, Y/N. So, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I settled for a reservation at an Italian restaurant. Would that be okay?” He tried to swallow his nerves.

“Yeah, that’s perfect!” It didn’t really matter, she knew she’d go wherever this man asked her to go. 

The nervous energy in the air was lighthearted and it made her feel like she was a teenager going on a date for the first time again. They caught each other up on their lives as they walked. Both of Y/N’s hands ended up around Spencer’s arm and he found himself relishing in her warm touch as well as every little squeeze she gave when she got excited about something she was saying. He wanted to pay attention to the direction they were walking in, but it was too damn hard with the way the lamp lights reflected in her irises. He’d almost walked right past the restaurant.

“Oh, we’re here.” He laughed lightly, leading her to the entrance and they were seated immediately.

Dinner went smoothly. She’d known that he was an interesting man, but he made it so easy for her to get lost in him, what he was saying, his eyes- oh man, those eyes. She knew all about eyes being the windows to the soul, but she didn’t know how one man’s eyes could possibly convey so much emotion. She watched him talk about his work family and his real family, although not in great detail. They were so captivated by each other, the waiters had to make noises with either their throats or mouths to get their attention.

Once they were out of the restaurant, they continued walking down the same street, still deep in conversation about a topic probably wouldn’t interest anyone else. Spencer hadn’t really planned the night out, he didn’t know what exactly she would like, so he decided he’d let the leaves fall where they may. All he did know was when she giggled, his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, they stopped in their tracks and she let out a loud gasp.

“Oh! You know what I just remembered?” Spencer stared at her curiously, “There’s a tiny theater up ahead that plays some really cool foreign films, you probably know about it. I know the owner, she texts me whenever they add a French movie. Tonight they’re playing one of my favorites, Les Parapluies de Cherbourg! [The Umbrellas of Cherbourg] Oh, you would love it! Would you like to go? It’s totally fine if you have something else planned, though.” Spencer grinned at her excited nature and nodded eagerly.

“Are you kidding? I always have to beg my friends to come see foreign films with me, I’d love to go.” Spencer couldn’t believe this was happening. They arrived at the theater soon and she was disheartened to hear that they didn’t have subtitles for the movie.

“It’s okay! I don’t mind if there aren’t any subtitles.” Spencer said once he saw the smile dissipate from her face. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that he’d already seen the movie before anyway. The gleam in her eye was much too precious when she spoke of the film.

“Are you sure? I can probably whisper-translate to you, uh, i-if you’d like.” She stated somewhat shyly, a blush creeping up to her cheeks.

“I’d like that.” Spencer smiled as he realized that the roles were usually reversed and he’d usually be the one whisper-translating a movie to someone.

And so they sat in the small theater, arms tangled in each other over the arm of the chair between them. She had one hand on his bicep as he leaned the top half of his body closer to her. They were probably sitting closer than they normally would have sat, but she used the excuse of whisper-translating to her advantage. She felt a strand of his caramel hair tickle the tip of her nose as her lips whispered in his ear. Spencer fought to regulate his breathing every time she came near. He was glad he’d seen the movie before because he was sure that if this had been his first time seeing it, he’d have absolutely no clue what was going on. She also fought to resist the urge to press her lips to his clean shaven jaw--and basically everywhere else. 

The movie ended before they knew it and they could finally see each other in the gentle light of the theater. Spencer turned his face to send her a grateful smile just to find her face inches away from his. His eyes involuntarily flickered down to her lips. The same lips that were by his ear a few moments ago. She smiled back softly and they enjoyed the closeness for a short moment before Spencer shyly broke eye contact. They broke apart, both blushing from head to toe. Both far too shy to initiate anything. He cleared his throat before standing from his seat. Y/N followed him out of the theater.

“So, did you like it?” She asked as they stepped out, noticing that the streets were a lot darker and quieter than they had been prior to entering. It must have been late. 

“Yeah, I loved it.” Spencer said, almost breathlessly, but he wasn’t talking about the movie, of course. She grinned with triumph and courageously slipped her hand into his as they walked back in the direction they came from. He took it one step further and laced their fingers together. She swooned over his smile. 

An aggressive gust of wind suddenly washed over the two of them on the sidewalk, which made them instinctively close their eyes to brace themselves against the dust in the air. She only opened her eyes as she felt the lily in her hair slip out of its secure place from in between the prongs of the bobby pin.

“No!” She gasped and Spencer quickly -and ungracefully- leapt to catch it before it flew too far. She laughed as he turned to face her with a pleasantly surprised expression, almost in disbelief that he actually caught it. He approached her again and gently returned the lily to its rightful spot just above her ear. He moved a stray strand from her face and she gazed up at him with a certain type of adoration. His hands moved to cup the plumpness of her cheeks as they relished in each other's tender gazes. She let her hands rest right under his ribs and pulled him impossibly closer.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath washing over her face. He felt the skin under his fingertips warm up.

“Merci, mon cher.” [my dear] She whispered back, a definite level-up from mon lapin. That he did know the meaning of.

Spencer grinned slightly before finally leaning down to close the gap between both their lips. It was gentle and sweet, neither of them rushing it. To many onlookers, they were just a young couple sharing a kiss on the sidewalk in the middle of the night. To them, it was a silent declaration. A statement that conveyed more emotion than any of the thousands of words that existed in all the languages they spoke between them could. Y/N found herself following through after Spencer reluctantly pulled away for air. She stopped herself, blushing profusely at her involuntary movements. He only grinned wider in response before stepping back and grabbing her hand again.

“Let me walk you home.” He told her as they began walking again.

“Actually...the night doesn’t have to end yet, if you don’t want it to, I mean.” She smiled up at him.

“I don’t want it to, what do you have in mind? Everything’s closed down.” Spencer pointed out.

“Um, I might know a place.” She said in a teasing manner with a slight smirk, “The owner and I go way back.” She giggled.

“Oh really now?” Spencer played along, laughing.

“Mhm, we’re practically like this.” She laughed as she crossed one finger over the other on her free hand to represent a bond.

She unlocked the door to her bakery and pulled him in, closing the door again behind him. Before Spencer could even register what was happening, she had grabbed a hold on his tie to gently guide his face back to hers and enveloping his lips with her own. Spencer responded immediately by wrapping both arms around her waist securely. The kiss was significantly more passionate than the first, but just as sweet. She pulled apart first and bit her lip sheepishly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” She admitted and Spencer stood in a daze. 

She giggled and moved away to turn the lights on, but only some. The soft light illuminated the empty bakery and he realized then just how beautiful the place really was. Or maybe he thought everything would look ten times more beautiful after a kiss like the one he’d just received. The thought had extended to her, of course. Spencer didn’t think it was possible that she could look any more beautiful. But there she was, in all her glory, proving him wrong as each second passes.

“Come with me, I have something to show you.” She hooked her pointer finger around his and dragged him to the kitchen. He was in awe as he took in the sight of all of the kitchen appliances. It wasn’t a large kitchen, but it was oddly spacious and organized. 

She smiled wide at his reaction, “This is quite literally where the magic happens. Ooo! Come look, I made these right before I left, Marissa must have taken them out of the oven before she locked up. They’re for tomorrow.” She pulled him to a tall bakery rack and he spotted his favorite treat, pain au chocolat. She took one off the tray and gave it to him. It was still warm on the bottom. He couldn’t hold his excited grin back as he took a hefty bite out of it. She giggled as she watched him close his eyes dramatically.

“I’m truly at a loss for words, Y/N. They’re so good. How do you get them right every time?” He asked with fascination and she propped herself on the counter of the kitchen, taking one for herself.

“Well, it took time and effort to perfect the recipe, Dr. Reid.” She giggled, biting into it. “I can show you how to make them one day. Maybe our next date?” She looked at him hopefully and he nodded eagerly.

“Yes! You can finally show me how to make pain au chocolat.” He tried to imitate her accent, he really tried. She burst out laughing at his cuteness.

“Pain au cho-co-lat.” She emphasized, separating the syllables.

“That’s what I said! Pain au chocolat!” He laughed, although the pronunciation was still slightly off.

“Alright, close enough.” She giggled again as she pulled him closer, locking her legs at the ankle behind his waist. They’d have plenty of time to perfect his accent later.

“Embrasse-moi, mon cher.” [Kiss me, my dear] She whispered. 

Right then, he thanked himself for having the foresight to brush up on the language enough to do exactly what she asked. 

Half-eaten pains au chocolat were long forgotten.

Mon Lapin (part 1)

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm

[starryeyedrookie]

Hey Meg! I want to get to know Evelyn and Ethan better through this newlywed game :D The trick is you have to answer in character, if your up for it!

For Both

My spouse in the morning make me think of _______.

Your spouse's cutest quirk?

Their best dish?

Their most embarrassing memory?

Who is the better kisser?

For Evelyn

What does Ethan wear that looks the best on him?

Describe Ethan with a John Mulaney gif.

What destination would Ethan most likely choose for a second honeymoon? Would you go?

What's been your silliest argument? How did you resolve it?

Tell me about the best ten minutes at his side?

For Ethan

Which one of her loved ones/friends/family member do you have the best relationship with?

Do you have a pet name for her? If so, what is it?

Complete the sentence. My wife doesn't know that it drive me crazy when she ____________.

What is something you do she pretends to hate but secretly loves?

Describe the moment you knew you were in love with her.

Hi Bree! I’m so excited that you want to know more about Evelyn and Ethan and I had so much fun answering these😊

For Both

1. My spouse in the morning makes me think of ______.

Ethan: She reminds me of Squidward.

Evelyn: *laughs uncontrollably* What?! I’m surprised you even know who that is!

Ethan: *laughing* You don’t really want to talk to her until she’s had her coffee.

Evelyn: Well you’re exactly like Carl Fredricksen. Grumpy but still caring.

2. Your spouses cutest quirk?

Ethan: When Eve sticks her tongue out when she’s concentratin.

Evelyn: Ethan always puffs up his cheeks when he’s shaving and it’s adorable.

Ethan: *blushing* You really had to tell everyone that, huh?

3. Their best dish?

Evelyn: Ethan makes the most amazing garlic herb butter roast chicken. It’s even better when you make chicken salad with it the next day.

Ethan: I’m going to have to say your lasagna.

Evelyn: I knew it! You always end up eating almost half the dish!

4. Their most embarrassing memory?

Evelyn: *turns bright red* Ugh. I hate even thinking about mine.

Ethan: I can go first if that’ll make you feel better.

Evelyn: Be my guest.

Ethan: Okay, so a couple years ago, we took a road trip to visit Evelyn’s family, and we brought Jenner along with us. While we were there we went out for a walk and took Jenner to the dog park, where he unfortunately proceeded to break free of his leash and hump this lady’s dog. After I ran over to untangled him, I looked up and realized….

Evelyn: *crying laughing*

Ethan: *pinches his bridge of his nose* that the poor dog’s owner was Evelyn’s grandmother. Thankfully we just laughed it off and she never mentioned it again, but I couldn’t look at her in the eye for a looong time after that.

Evelyn: That’s embarrassing for sure, but it definitely can’t beat mine. Prior to our honeymoon in Italy, I had actually been trying to learn Italian for some time. When we went for a morning walk, we decided to stop in at this cute little coffee shop. On the menu, I saw a drink that I had never heard of before, but wanted to try, and I wanted to ask the barista “What does that drink taste like?” which in Italian is “Che sapore ha quella bevanda?” I don’t know if I was nervous about asking or trying not to mess up but I ended up saying “Che sapore ha tua madre?” which translates to *mumbling* “What does your mother taste like?”

Ethan: *tries not to laugh and make her feel worse*

Evelyn: In that moment I want the ground to open up and swallow me. His eyes went wide and he said “Excuse me?” and I realized what I had said and started apologizing profusely. The worst part was when Ethan apologized and said that I was trying to learn the the language, he spoke to us in fluent English and said not to worry. I didn’t try again for he rest of the trip.

5. Who is the better kisser?

Evelyn: Definitely Ethan.

Ethan: *smirks* I can’t argue with that.

For Evelyn

1. What does Ethan wear that looks the best on him?

Ethan can honestly look good in anything, but I can’t resist a man in a suit, so definitely that.

2. Describe Ethan with a John Mulaney gif.

Evelyn: *screeches excitedly* I have the gif saved to my phone! *pulls out phone and opens Photos* this is him:

Ethan: I respectively disagree.

Evelyn: *giggles* You’ve gotten better, but you’re still like this sometimes.

3. What destination would Ethan most likely choose for a second honeymoon? Would you go?

Evelyn: I think Ethan would choose Paris. It was the first trip we took together as an official couple, so I think he’d love to go back. I would absolutely go with him. Even if he wanted to go to Antarctica I’d go.

Ethan: *smiles and looks at her lovingly*

4. What’s been your silliest argument? How did you resolve it?

Evelyn: *laughing* Hmmm… there haven’t really been too many, but the silliest argument we probably ever had was over Ethan leaving the toilet seat up. There was actually one time when it was dark and I went to use the washroom and ended up falling it the bowl. To fix that problem, I bought this TipAlert toilet alarm from Amazon and when the seat is up for too long, it wolf whistles at him! Ladies, if your man does that too, this alarm is a life saver.

5. Tell me about the best ten minutes at his side.

Evelyn: *takes Ethan’s hand* I love all the time I get to spend with him, but my favourite moment from our time together was during our honeymoon when we went on the gondola ride in Venice. The sun was setting and it was the most beautiful thing knowing that I had married the love of my life and would get to share every moment with him.

For Ethan

1. Which one of her loved ones/friends/family member do you have the best relationship with?

Ethan: I have a pretty good relationship with her whole family, but I’d say I’m the closest with her younger sister. She’s a veterinarian so we always have a lot to catch up on and talk about when we see each other.

Evelyn: Their conversations can last hours.

2. Do you have a pet name for her? If so, what it it?

Ethan: I, personally, am not a huge fan of pet names but Eve loves all these endearing terms, and she convinced me to call her “babe”.

Evelyn: *giggles* I also convinced you to let me call you “dear”.

Ethan: We’re not going to talk about that.

3. Complete the sentence. My wife doesn’t know it drives me crazy when she _________?

Ethan: When she plays music and starts dancing around the living room without a care in the world. Just seeing her and how carefree she is in that moment does a lot.

4. What is something you do she pretends to hate but secretly loves?

Ethan: Eve can be a pretty frugal person when it comes to herself, and she doesn’t really like to get something unless it absolutely necessary or something she really wants. *laughing* She buys more stuff for me than she does herself. Sometimes I’ll surprise her randomly with a gift or flowers because just words alone aren’t enough to express how much I love and appreciate her. She acts like it’s not necessary, but I know deep down she loves it.

5. Describe the moment you knew you were in love with her.

Ethan: *wrapping his arm around her* Sorry I have to bring this up babe. I know how much this still bothers you.

Evelyn: It’s okay, I’ll be fine.

Ethan: The moment I knew I was in love with Evelyn was the day of the attack. That night when I went to her room and held her…. *starts tearing up* …. just seeing her like that and not being able to do or say anything to help or comfort her, made me realize that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with her.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x evelyn #the newlywed game #asks #messrprongs

[sazc94]

The Way I Loved you

A long overdue Bucky fic for my girl @lannycleave consider this a delayed birthday gift <3

Also Please accept this as another entry to the wonderful @msmarvelwrites

2k Challenge because her challenege seems to be one of the only things able to inspire me at the moment.

Pairing Steve and Reader and Bucky and Reader.

Warning 18+ Only as it's smutty. Daddy kink (maybe idk). Angst. Some fluff (Steve being a perfect boring gentlemen). Surbuan Au type Thing

Not Proof read so my apologies.

Dating Steven Grant Rogers was a dream, He's charming and endearing and you were comfortable. He was reliable, never made you wait, always calling exactly when he says he will. A true prince charming on a white horse always there to sweep you off your feet.

He was always opening doors for you, got on with your mother and talked business with your father. You two were a match made in heaven, he a Captain in the army and you the perfect small-town girl that everyone wanted.

You never had to worry about where you stood with Steve, he would always tell you how beautiful you looked, have you home by a reasonable hour (even though you were in your 20’s and lived alone). He would always respect you and your space, never pushing you for more than a kiss, or at a push a steamy make out session.

However, that’s where the problem was, you were comfortable, you wanted passion, you wanted him to want you, touch you, fuck you. Anything just anything to make you feel that fire you had once felt with James Bucky Barnes. Sadly, Steve was just too much of a gentleman and would never do anything beyond a make out session in his car, he never came into your apartment always making up some excuse about how that wasn’t the proper thing to do.

Your single friends thought you were crazy. They were jealous. you had the perfect specimen of a man with his blonde hair and blue eyes and his abs, oh god his abs, he was perfectly sculpted almost like he had been made out of a bottle. He was a great kisser you just didn’t feel anything.

Then there was Bucky, he was also in the army, a Sergeant. He was just as muscular as Steve however where Steve had short blonde perfectly sculpted hair (like a ken doll except blonde), Bucky was a brunette, when you had first met him he had shaggy brown hair however he had cut it once he had been called up to the army.

Both had blue eyes, however where Steve’s sparkled, Bucky’s felt like the ocean like you were downing in them, and oh god the little lick of his lips he did when he smirked, it melted you into a puddle. Bucky had always adored you, calling you doll treating you right, but after the first tour things had changed.

Bucky had lost an arm and whilst he got an amazing prosthetic thanks to Stark industries the softness, he once had to him was long gone.

The love between you became somewhat toxic, screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and it's 2:00 a.m. and you were cursing his name. But the sex. Oh god the sex. It was always electric after a fight.

One minute your screaming and fighting, cursing telling him that you cant stand him, the next minute his lips would be crashing onto yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You let him take control because when Bucky Barens wanted you with such a raw animalistic way, who were you too refuse?

Buckys hands cupped your ass, urging you to jump and wrap your legs around him, Whilst you and Bucky were freaky, you weren’t quite fuck outside in your apartments front garden freaky. Buckys tall muscular frame was taught beneath the shirt as he carried you into your apartment.

Thankfully you were on the ground floor and as soon as Bucky was in your apartment he kicked the door shut behind him.

Bucky backed you against the wall next to the door your body becoming putty beneath his as he pushed his hardened cock against you, the friction of your PJ short. You couldn’t help but moan as your arousal started to soak through your shorts.

Bucky slipped his hand down your shorts and let out a dark chuckle.

“Stupid little slut of mine, already so wet for me and I’ve barley even begun, when im done with you, you wont even remember your own name” Bucky growled.

You loved Bucky, so you knew he would never do anything to truly hurt you, but the way his eyes darkened with arousal, hunger, a want for you, no a need for you, and the way he spoke down to you. Sent shivers down your spine and and arousal flooding to your pussy.

Bucky began harshly swipping your swollen clit, pushing one finger in and then another before he began harshly scissoring you with fingers.

“Dumb slut, whats the matter cat got your tongue? Bucky said pushing a third finger inside you, Buckys pace quickened working that magic spot, before long your orgasm was crashing through you. Bucky worked his fingers still inside you slowing the pace to bring you down form your high.

Once your breathing had slowed Bucky grabbed your legs which had dropped from his waist and pulled you tight around him before walking into your bedroom.  He dropped you on the bed and began removing his pj pants.

He clicked to the spot on the floor in front of him.

“On your knees, bitch” he said. You complied arousal flooding through you again.

“There’s a good little girl” he cooed. You felt yourself flush at his appraisal.

By now Bucky had removed all his clothes and was standing in front of you his erect cock stretching out, you felt your mouth water slightly with anticipation. Bucky had a large cock, but it was also wide, your lips parted slightly as Bucky pumped his hand down his cock lazily. Bucky swiped his thumb over his bulbous head and gathered his pre-cum with his thumb, he then wiped it across your lips followed by a deep kiss.

You moaned slightly as the tang taste of his precum mixed with the taste of his lips. Suddenly Bucky broke the kiss and without warning he shoved his cock in your mouth. You whined slightly at the intrusion.

“That’s my good girl taking daddy’s cock so well. Wanna feel those pretty little lips do some good” Bucky then pulled his cock almost all the way out from your mouth before snapping his cock back into your mouth.

Bucky grabbed your hair and began to fuck your mouth at a relentless pace, you felt your eyes start to tear up as you gagged around his thick cock. You tried to remember how to breathe but you could feel yourself slipping into that cockdrunk haze Bucky seemed to put you in.

“Stupid little slut doesn’t know how to behave, seems to forget who loves her. That’s okay Daddy will help you remember” Bucky said slamming into your throat again. All you could do was whimper in response. Suddenly Bucky removed his cock from your mouth. He wiped your tears away and kissed you gently. He picked you up with ease and placed you on the bed.

Bucky rolled you round so you were face down before gently pulling your ass towards him. You didn’t let his sudden gentleness fool you, you knew Bucky was about to absolutely destroy you. You couldn’t help the arousal pooling in your cunt as Bucky ran his hands languidly along your body, leaving a trail of blazing hot kisses along your neck, shoulder and back.

“Such a pretty little girl when you’re quiet, what’s the matter baby, cat got your tounge?” Bucky said as he teased his cock along your wet folds and you mewled in response.

“Now you’re going to be a good little girl and take what daddy gives you aren’t you?” Bucky asked. You nodded in response.

“Need to hear you use your words Princess” Bucky growled.

“Yes daddy” you replied compliantly.

That was all the confirmation Bucky needed and then he plunged his hardened cock inside your waiting cunt the groan you let out was purely pornographic. Bucky stilled a moment inside you before he began to drag his cock along your walls. Buck tangled his hand in your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest. You sucked in a breath at the new angle as Bucky began to quicken his pace.

“Bucky” was all you managed to say as his other hand found its way to your clit. Bucky began to furiously swipe circles on your throbbing clit with his thumb as he slammed himself in and out of you, the only sounds that filled the air were the heavy breaths you were taking and slopping sound as Bucky pounded into you over and over.

Bucky could feel you were close by the way you would squeeze around him, you felt him grin against you as he quickened the pace of his thumb around your sensitive bundle of nerves, you could feel the coil in your stomach building at an alarming pace and before you knew it you were hurtling toward your second orgasm.

Bucky had two choices as he felt you squeeze around you, he could follow closely behind like he so desperately wanted too or he could drag this out for a while longer, however as he felt you clench around him in the way that makes him loose his mind every god-damn time he decided to chase his own release and soon you felt the ropes of his hot seed spilling inside you.

Bucky stayed inside you for a moment before gently pulling out of you, he went into the bathroom and ran a bath with your favourite bath salts before coming back for you and gently easing you in the bath.

Steve had picked you up at 8pm sharp he had told you to dress a little fancy and that he was taking you to dinner and dancing. You sat in your small town’s fancy restaurant ran by a local Italian family “Mastriani’s” you had the table tucked away in the corner surrounded by fairy lights, a bottle of red wine between you. Dinner had been equiste a rich tomato pasta dish with a sprinkling of cheese. You were waiting for desert when Steve removed his hand from yours.

You didnt think anything of it your thoughts were elsewhere and then Suddenly Steve was on the floor on one knee. His shiny blue eyes looking at you with such adoration.

“Y/N” he began.

“I know its only been 8 short months, but I love you with my entire being. I talked to your dad, all you have to do is pick out a white dress and say yes. Y/N will you make me the happiest man in town and do me the honour of becoming my wife” Steve asked.

Your mind began to race, Steve was proposing, you would be crazy not to say yes. Sure he was a bit boring, and you two hadn’t even had sex yet but he was a safe choice. Steve looked at you with love and adoration. And suddenly you couldn’t breathe, all you could think of was Bucky. Your eyes filled with tears but this didn’t worry Steve he believed they were happy tears.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled. Steve just looked at you puzzled, not sure he had heard you correctly. He took your hand in his and squeezed it tight, in what he hoped was a reassuring measure. You pulled your hand back with speed you didn’t know you had.

“I’m sorry Steve, I cant say yes” you said dropping your napkin on the table and rushing out the restaurant. You tried to block out the gasps and stares from the people around you.

When you got to the front of the restaurant it was hammering down with rain. You didn’t care you slipped of your heels and took of running. Your heart hammering in your chest as your red dress stuck to you in the rain. The warm summer wind whipping around you only soaking you more. Your vision was becoming obscured as the rain ran down your face but you didnt care. You had to see him.

After a 10 minute run in the rain you found yourself at his door, his jeep was outside but that didnt nessicarily mean he was home or if he was that he was alone. Fear gripped your chest tightly for a moment but you had come this far, no point turning back. You hammered on his door, after no immediate signs of movement you hammered again.

 

Suddenly you felt all the adrenaline leave your body, convinced Bucky was in their with another womans. You ran back down the stairs as tears started to form in your eyes you had just made it to he bottom when the door behind you opened.

“Y/N?” Bucky questioned. Rubbing his eyes. You paused on the step.

“Uh-yeah, forget it, I’ve clearly made a mistake coming here” You said before you started to run off down the street in the direction you had just come from.

Bucky, in nothing but pyjama pants didn’t hesitate to chase after you, grabbing his keys from the bowl near the door.

“Y/N! Wait!” He screamed at you. You couldn’t help but freeze on the spot. Bucky closed the distance between you in a matter of moments.

“Whats the matter Y/N? Did someone hurt you?” Bucky asked his hands hovering over your arms before ultimately he dropped them down to his side.

“He proposed” you whispered. Bucky recoiled as if you’d slapped him, his bright blue eyes darkened with sadness, his brown hair darkened by the rain.

“I’m sure you’ll be very happy together” Bucky chuckled darkly.

He knew he hadn’t treated you the best when you were together but still it hurt the thought of Steve Rogers, golden boy touching his girl.

“I didn’t say yes” you said reaching for him. Bucky stood frozen in shock, why were you here then if not to rub it in his face that he had messed up his chance with you.

“When he proposed, all I could think was how it wasn’t you” your voice came out in a choke. Even now you were scared that he didn’t love you.

Bucky felt all the breath in him leave at once, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You mistook his silence as a bad thing.

“I miss everything about you Buck, I miss how you would moan at me for leaving the toothpaste cap off and how you could never find it. I miss the way your blue eyes would light up like Christmas anytime you met a cat. I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when its 2am and I’m cursing your name, because that’s the way I love you” you cried. All at once Bucky’s hands were on your face and his lips were crashing against yours. Rain poured down around you but in that moment all that existed was Bucky and you.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve x female reader #soft steve #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #avengers #ms marvel 2k challenge

[theseshipsshallsail]

The harsh glow of the paralume on the bedside cabinet is enough to aggravate his grumbling headache, and Elio’s been tracing idle patterns above Oliver’s heart for several silent minutes when a snatch of poetry drifts from his lips.

“I dreamed that I died,” he whispers, and blunt nails dig into his waist as Oliver jerks out of a doze. “That I felt the cold close to me; and all that was left of my life was contained in your presence. Your mouth was the daylight and dark of my world, your skin, the republic I shaped for myself with my kisses.” Reaching up, he walks his fingers over Oliver’s face to his chin - a feather-light imitation of that day at the berm. “Straightway, the books of the world were all ended, all friendships, all treasures restlessly cramming the vaults, the diaphanous house that we built for a lifetime together all ceased to exist, till nothing remained but your eyes.” 

The only eyes he cares about are red-rimmed underneath the fan of Oliver’s lashes, and Elio feels a grim satisfaction when he grazes his thumb across his cheekbone, observing him without filter or veneer. His disquiet spreads as he imagines his solitary life going forward - the one that must be his, not theirs - and when Oliver lets out a tremulous breath, it’s all he can do not to mirror him.

“That’s -” he begins, then breaks off, clearly struggling.

“Neruda.”    

“It’s beautiful.”  

Elio nods. “Seemed appropriate,” he says, as Oliver enfolds him in his arms. 

He doesn’t know what’s worse. The thought of one day being consigned to a fond reminiscence. Some tshatshke to gather dust in the annals of Oliver’s subconscious. Or the false indifference of a treacherous future meeting. The genial handshakes. The pats on the back. The bonhomie that served them both so well when Oliver first set foot on Italian soil. 

It’s inconceivable that it should end like this. That their bodies - having shared every intimate secret possible - will have to settle for casual acquaintance. They’re on the cusp of a potential everything, but hurtling towards an actual nothing, and as the wall clock continues to tick it's brutal countdown, Elio wants to toss it, smash it: bury it like a tell-tale heart.

“The things you say…”

“I’m sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t -”

“It’s okay.” 

It’s not. And they both know it. 

Oliver’s stubble is rough where he nestles into the crook of his neck, and Elio welcomes the faint abrasion as he holds on for dear life, clutches him as though he’s the last handhold at the edge of an abyss.

“Tell me something else I don’t know,” Oliver murmurs, and Elio scoffs.

“Cieli… there’s a rope with no end.” 

“About you, you little shit.” Oliver pokes him in the ribs. “Something simple. Something no one else knows.”

“How can I?” Elio asks. “You’ve already seen all there is of me.” Easing back, he nuzzles his forehead along Oliver’s bicep. “Va bene. This then. I wanted it to be you.”

“That’s hardly a secret.”

“The internship,” Elio explains, picturing the muvi star Polaroid attached to this year's application forms. “I made sure they picked you.” 

He can’t help but wonder what turns his life might have taken if someone else had stepped out of that taxi, instead. If the Elio he could’ve been was happier in his traviamento, discovering things that he himself had missed out on, and now might never know. Or if he was miserable in turn. Grieving in absentia. Showered by the ashes of something he wouldn’t even realise was ablaze in the first place.

“What would you do with them? Those ten extra minutes?” he asks, harkening back to their earlier conversation, and Oliver sighs, drawing him into a lazy kiss. 

“This,” he replies, licking at his cupid’s bow - nibbling, teasing - until Elio moans, melting within his embrace. 

“Just that?” 

“Just that, he says.”

Elio stays quiet as Oliver guides him over, legs sliding his thighs apart to blanket him with his larger frame. Their lips move together - languorous and hypnotic - and even with their fingers knotted in each other’s hair the kiss remains unhurried. Searching. Tongues probe, but don’t dip. Teeth scrape, but don’t bite. And merde, he’s lost - in him, them, this - addicted to each soft groan Oliver feeds him as he arches in blatant need. 

“You are so precious to me,” Oliver tells him, each kiss growing bolder, more insistent. “Never doubt that. Never say you didn’t know...”

The tenderness of his actions is a brittle contrast to his words, and despite his closed eyelids, Elio can feel him watching him. Taking in his flushed brow and swollen mouth. The click of his throat when he swallows. The trembling in his digits as so much promise slips through them like silken ribbons. And Elio wants him to watch. To memorise. To curse the fates themselves for having spun them a glimpse of heaven, only to sever their fragile threads without pity or reproach.

“Let us continue living for the beauty of our own creation,” Oliver murmurs in his ear, and Elio’s hands start to wander in a bid to clear his consciousness of all else but him. 

The man who will always be his brother and friend. 

His husband and lover. 

His one true self.

It’s a pointless task, he’ll admit, as a frenzied tattoo pounds at his temple. Like ripping off a sticking plaster slowly in hopes of avoiding the sting. Time cares nothing for the doomed fancies of innamorato, and the thought of what’s to come hovers like the blackest of storm clouds. Desperation strains beneath Elio’s skin even as he glories in the weight of Oliver’s body, but the roiling mass in his belly grows ever bigger. Nausea sweeps through him - like being doused in a frigid wave - and the bitter apprehension leaves him aching. Wheezing. Like his breath is caught in his chest, and he can’t do anything about it but wait until something splinters. 

“Elio?”

That something turns out to be him.

“Arrêter...” he whimpers, pushing against Oliver’s sternum until he can sit up. “I can’t do this.”

“Sweetheart -” 

The simple endearment sends him reeling, and Elio convulses, eyes burning as he launches himself to the side of the mattress. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, hugging his knees to his chin. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Oliver asks, reaching for him, and it’s anathema not to reach back.

“Fermare! Don’t!” Elio cries, scrambling to his feet. “It’s too much. If you touch me right now I’ll -” Stricken, he scrunches a hand at his nape, dreading the slick, metallic surge of a nosebleed as Oliver’s arm falls limply to his lap. “I love you,” he says, spitting his confession like gunfire. “I’m completely in love with you. And I don’t care what that makes me. Because if I’m sick and twisted, then so are you!”

“Elio -”

“This isn’t some game for me.” His voice goes up an octave as his tears spill free. “It isn’t. It’s more than that!”

“Hey! Hey, shh…” Oliver closes the distance urgently, ignoring his feeble protests to gather him near, raining words of inadequate comfort into his curls. “Elio, come on... it’s alright,” he soothes, rocking him to-and-fro. “I believe you. I do.”

“I don’t want it to end,” he sobs, redolent of that afternoon in a dust-moted attic. The air ripe with the scent of peaches and misspent arousal. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won't,” Oliver says, as Elio chokes his grief out into his shoulder. “You won’t. Not completely. We’ll keep in touch, okay? Letters. Phone calls...” 

Mere crumbs compared to the banquet they’ve enjoyed. “Don’t make promises you can't keep.”

“I’m not. I won’t.” Oliver cradles the back of his head to raise it. “I miss you already and you’re right here in front of me. You’re not the only one who couldn’t stand the silence.”

“Je déteste ça...”

“It’s not fair,” Oliver agrees, hushed, deliberate. “You deserve so much more than I can give you. But if this is my speak or die moment, then so be it. And please forgive me. Because I love you, too.”

“I’d almost prefer you didn’t,” Elio whispers, and Oliver flinches like he’s been struck. “Fanculo. I didn’t mean that!” he rushes to amend. “But I’d rather suffer the pain of a wounded ego, than lie in an empty bed, knowing I have nothing to blame it on but circumstance.”

“I’d rather you not suffer either way.” 

“I know you wouldn’t,” Elio says, as Oliver’s own tears gather like dew on his eyelashes. But it was always going to happen, wasn’t it? It’s a cruel game they’ve played, the two of them, and now they’re both paying the ferryman for passage to what comes next. “You tried to be good, remember?” 

Oliver looks at him askance. “You don’t think this is good?”

“It’s better than good,” Elio tells him, thumbs caressing the undersides of his wrists. “You’re a good man, Oliver.”

“How can I be?” He’s pressed so close Elio can feel the trapped breaths rattling in his lungs. “I’d steal you away if I could. Bring you home to New York with me. Wake up with you every morning. Sleep beside you every night.”

“Then do it.” Elio’s relief is tainted by inevitability. “Take me with you,” he pleads, as Oliver combs a hand through his fringe. 

“You’d give up everything? For me?” 

“For you?” Elio leans back, searching his face. "No, mio caro. For us.”

But Oliver is undeterred. “You could have anything you want in this world,” he murmurs, which comes as little solace when what Elio wants is him. “Your life is just getting started. In so many ways. You should be free to experience it all beyond restraint. College. Music...” His mask slips temporarily. “...love.”

Elio scowls. “Say what you really mean, then. That you want me to move on. Replace you!”

“Of course I don’t!” Oliver replies, eyes fierce. “I’m much too selfish for that. Can’t you see I’d like nothing more than to be by your side? Watch you flourish? Celebrate your triumphs? But you’re seventeen, Elio. And that matters. Even if you don’t think it does. There’s no limit to how bright your star could shine without all this to dim it.”

“This?” It’s practically sibilant. “You still think you’re going to mess me up, don’t you?” Elio demands, and when Oliver doesn’t deny it, he shoves him in exasperation. “You once asked if there was anything I didn’t know, so what makes you think I’m incapable of making such choices for myself?” 

“Elio…”

“And if you say I’m too young again, I swear I’ll -”

“You’re not exactly helping your case, here.”

“Fuck my case!” Elio growls, spinning on his heel. Wishing he could offer more. Commit something. “Those aren't reasons. They’re excuses.”

“They’re facts.”

“There are no facts, only interpretations,” Elio argues, folding his arms as he glares out the window. “My age doesn’t matter, Oliver. We do. You and I. And when I graduate -”

“Twelve months is a long time, my friend.”

“Too long for you to wait, you mean?” He tries to keep his features neutral when he turns back around, already fearing the answer. “Long enough for you to give up before we’ve even begun. To convince yourself I’m just some stupid -”

“Don’t.” Oliver’s tone stops him dead in his tracks. “Don’t you ever call yourself that again. You, Elio Perlman, are exceptional.” Unlike him, Oliver’s tears are silent as they crest over his cheeks. “When have I ever given you the impression I’m not in complete awe of you? That I don’t feel privileged - humbled - by everything you’ve chosen to give me?”

“When have I?” Elio yells, knowing his shameful treatment of Marzia suggests otherwise. “You stand there, plotting out my future as if our being together will rob me of something, when the only thing you’ll deprive me of is yourself.”

“And what of your own ambitions?” Oliver asks calmly, not rising to the bait despite a disgruntled shout from the other side of the hotel’s too-thin walls. “I saw the brochures in your bookcase. The Conservatoire de Paris? The Giuseppe Verdi in Milan?”

“Bien sûr! The one’s gathering dust on a bottom shelf. Captivating reading, I’m sure.” Elio’s fingers itch for a cigarette. “Did you not see the Berklee prospectus on my desk? The one I’ve actually bookmarked? The one I requested back in April?”

A pause. “Boston?” 

Elio steels his nerve. “Juilliard, too. Assuming they’d have me.” 

“You…” The look on Oliver’s face is half lost, half questioning. “Why on earth wouldn’t they?”

“Have you seen their acceptance rates?”

“And what?” Oliver seems offended on his behalf. “You don’t think your talent is enough?” 

“Seven percent is tough competition.” Elio shrugs, attempting nonchalance. “But the best person I know just said I’m exceptional. So.”

For a slow, drawn-out second, neither of them blink - fitting, really, when Elio’s never felt more seen - but something softens in Oliver’s expression as he takes three steps closer. “I want this to work,” he mutters, as if only now believing it’s possible. “Trust me, I do. There’s just so much standing in our way.”

“Big results require big ambitions,” Elio tells him, and Oliver snorts in disbelief. 

“You’re citing my manuscript?” 

“Arrogante. I’m quoting Heraclitus. Or would you prefer I go back to verse? Alfredo clearly has enough of them.” 

“Please don’t,” Oliver murmurs. “If you start in on San Clemente I’ll never be able to -”

Able to what, he doesn’t dare ask. 

This lengthy goodbye is excruciating, so Elio tamps down on his emotions, making a shrine at his very foundations. Knowing that whatever comes next, wherever this path might lead, however many layers he builds up around them, the memories will mold and shape him much like the basilica within this venerable city.

“Se l’amore,” he whispers, skimming his fingertips along the curve of Oliver’s jaw.

“Se l’amore,” he repeats, just as hushed, then slants him an uncertain smile. “Can I kiss you?”  

He’d chosen him well, his Oliver, and Elio’s own smile is reluctant as he recognises the request for what it is. A bookend of sorts: first and last. 

He’s surprised, therefore, when Oliver uncurls his fingers and lays them flat in his palm. “I love these hands,” he says, lifting them to his lips. Reverent, he sucks at the pale skin of his wrist, tracing the blue of his veins with a pointed tongue before turning his attention to his knuckles. “I love these freckles,” he continues, causing Elio’s breath to hitch when he angles his chin up, kissing the constellation beside his nose. “I love your tenacity…” Elio offers his mouth, and true to form, Oliver kisses that too. “I love your chutzpah... I love -”

His voice breaks, and Elio’s heart joins it as Oliver glances at the clock. “How much time do we have?”    

“Not enough.” Oliver presses their foreheads together. “Never enough.” 

It sounds like acceptance. Like a challenge. Like you’ll kill me if you stop.

They’ll always have this summer - in a perfect world, perhaps it could be summer forever - so Elio meets Oliver’s gaze unflinchingly as he unbuttons his shirt, letting the emerald green garment fall carelessly to the floor.

Sand is spilling quickly from the confines of their personal hourglass, but minutes, hours, decades would be insufficient.

They have a lifetime’s worth of love between them, and only a short while left in which to share it.  

#cmbyn #fanfic #oliver x elio #angst #last night in rome #hopeful ending

[babbushka]

Best Boys

Paterson x Reader x Paul (Sevier Twins AU)

3k ; N S F W (d/s dynamic [sub!paterson and sub!paul] threesome - FMM, double penetration, 2 cocks 1 hole, cock cages, ass plugs, pegging/strap on sex, twin brothers sharing reader, voyeurism, masturbation) 

                                                    --------------------

You’re pleasantly surprised to see the car parked in the driveway when you pull up to the house. It was Paterson’s house, technically, in his name. But it belonged to all three of you, you, Paterson and his brother Paul. Paterson and Paul shared everything, including the car that you weren’t expecting to see until much later in the evening, when Paul drove it back from work.

You’d even made a pitstop on your way home from work of your own, swung by the Italian restaurant that had always treated you and the boys kindly. Not many people in town understood the relationship between the three of you, but the little old man and his husband and wife at the cozy place down the street had always been supportive.

You juggle the bags of takeout to open the front door, where you’re met with the sensual sight of a romantic transformation. The lights in the foyer and living room are all dimmed low, replaced instead by the glow of a dozen LED candles. You smile as you think that was probably Paul’s idea, not wanting to burn down the house.

A trail of rose petals lead up the stairs to the master bedroom that the three of you shared. You smile as you lock the door behind you, set the bags in the oven to keep warm, and begin to climb up the stairs, hands searching in the low light.

“Paul? Pat?” You call up to them, grinning as you immediately hear excited shuffling when they recognize that it’s you.

“You’re home early.” Paterson smiles softly when he appears at the top of the stairs, arms outstretched, wanting to wrap around you.

“We wanted to surprise you.” Paul’s head pops around the corner too, and as you hug Paterson he leans over for a kiss. Paul’s glasses slightly are askew on his nose as he chases your lips even as you pull away to kiss his brother, and he licks his lips, asking, “Do you like it?”

“I love it, you’re both so good to me.” You nod, heart blooming with love and affection for them as Paterson steps behind you and ushers you forward to the bedroom, where the rose petals continue all the way up onto the pristinely made bed, more candles flickering softly. You smile at them and feel your stomach jump when you ask, “Let me be good to you?”

Paterson and Paul exchange a glance, and sometimes you wish you knew what went on in their heads, because they look like they’re having a silent conversation all their own for a split second, before Paul steps closer to you, sandwiches you between him and Paterson. Their hands hover over your body, palms warm and soft, wanting to touch but not having permission.

“Can…can we?” Paterson asks, lightly tugging on the hem of your blouse, and you grin, knowing exactly what they want.

You nod, and the moment that you do, their trembling hands work on getting you naked, getting you stripped down. They don’t hurry through it, no, they savor the honor of undressing you, of peeling away the layers that reveal your flesh to them.

Paterson’s hands work on the buttons of your jeans from his spot behind you, and Paul gently lifts your blouse over your head. The minute that your shoulders are exposed, Paterson’s mouth is on them, kissing the crook of your neck and sighing happily as he pulls your pants down. Paul works on your bra, getting it unclasped and letting your breasts rest naturally, before kneeling in front of you and sliding your panties down off your hips.

You’re completely exposed to them, but you’ve never felt more safe, more secure than when you have their hands on you, roaming over your limbs, squeezing at your tits, your thighs.

“Your turn.” You instruct, particularly interested in what should be hidden away in Paterson’s boxers.

With a light groan, they detach themselves from you, and you go lay down on the bed to watch. The rose petals flutter around you when you settle on top of the covers, laying on your side, one elbow propping up your head.

They’re shy, so shy. They want to look good for you, they want you to enjoy what you see as they pull off their own clothes, standing before you in just a pair of socks. They might be twins, but their bodies look so different to you, each defined in their own ways, each strong in their own ways. Your hand trails over your stomach, curves around your hip as they stand at the foot of the bed, and you smile.

“Oh you’re so handsome, both of you.” You say sincerely, pleased to see the little metal cage and harness that’s nice and snug around Paterson’s hips. You look him in the eye and raise a careful brow, “You wore it all day?”

“Mhm, just like you said.” He nods eagerly, and you practically beam.

You’d caught Paterson jacking off to a naked photo of you during his lunch break the other day, without permission. It had been sweet, even if he needed to be punished for it, for being such a dirty slut. You didn’t like to punish your boys, especially not Paterson, but lessons needed to be learned. You’d put the cock cage on him that morning and kissed him sweetly before going off to work, a reminder that a bus depot was no place to come all over himself – at least, not without you.  

You knew he wouldn’t say no, he loves having his cock locked up, loves not being allowed to come. He’s got a whole collection of rings that he shyly presented to you when you first started this relationship, and he’ll sometimes ask you to edge him for hours with them.

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well.” You praise him, and his chest flushes a beautiful dark red as you crawl forward to the edge of the bed and take it off, watching as his stomach twitches with excitement of having your hand near his cock.

It fills out immediately, and you’re forever so impressed with how well endowed these men are. Paul’s hard as a rock next to him, waiting patiently for your attention.

“I – I,” Paterson blushes, ducks his head and flexes his hands in such an endearing way that you can’t help but stretch up onto your knees to kiss him.

“Use your words sweetheart.” You whisper against his lips, encouraging and soft.

“Can I get the strap?” He murmurs, looking up at you with big brown eyes that you could never say no to.

“Of course, get whichever one you want.” You nod, letting him go.

He eagerly bolts out of the master bedroom and goes down the hall to his office, where he keeps his collection of toys. In the meantime, you turn to Paul, open your arms for him.

“Kiss me.” You say, breathy and warm, and he practically tackles you down onto the bed with how quick he is to meet your lips.

You’d missed Paul, he’s been working so much. You’re used to him being gone for days at a time when he’s on a particularly tough case, and the absence hurts your heart. So to have him back home, have him here early, early enough to plan something like this for you, you practically glow.

He kisses you passionately, hands clutching at you, groping at your chest. He kisses down your jaw, wet and hot and sloppy across your throat, until he’s nestling his face in your cleavage, suckling at marking up your tits, tonguing your nipples. You moan softly, not wanting to hold back the way he makes you feel, knowing that the praise gets his cock dripping.

“Can I watch?” Paul looks up at you, and you want to take off his glasses so they don’t get messy, but you simply nod.

“Mhm, but don’t come, save that for me.” You card your fingers through his hair as he kisses and squeezes your breasts, rolls your nipple between his plush lips, giving the other equal treatment, until you’re a quivering mess underneath him.

Paterson returns then, hands you the strap and climbs onto the bed to join you and Paul. Paul moves to one side to give you both enough space and you roll your eyes fondly when Paterson lays on his back and bends his knees, revealing to you the shiny end of a plug nestled against his cheeks.

“What’s this?” You ask, tapping it and making him moan.

“I was hoping you’d say yes, I thought I’d save you time.” He whines as you fasten the harness around your hips, the dildo heavy. He’s picked a big one this time, and you chuckle to yourself at how horny he must be, to want to get something so big up his ass.

You don’t reply, but you carefully remove the plug and lube the dildo up, shuffling yourself between his spread legs. His chest is heaving with anticipation, and you lean down to kiss him softly, sweetly, as you nudge the head of the silicone against his hole.

His hands immediately go to your waist, pulling you closer to him, the demanding thing. You wrap your hands under hips hips and push the strap further and further into him, thrusting lightly to get the lube properly distributed.

“Ah – oh, angel!” Paterson’s mouth drops open and his eyes close as his grip on your waist tightens, his knees bent up around your ribs.

“Shh you’re brilliant baby, you’re so brilliant, relax for me.” You kiss all over his face, and the minute his hips drop, the dildo slides in nearly all the way, making Paterson moan out loud loud loud. “There it is, go ahead and touch yourself, you can touch yourself, it’s okay.”

He nods, and between the two of you, you build up a steady rhythm that Paul jerks off to. He’s got his eyes on you, on the way your face looks when you concentrate, on the way your tits bounce as your hips speed up, seeking Paterson’s prostate.

“Oh – yes, yesyesyesyes, thank you, thank you angel.” Hot tears start to bead up at the corner of Paterson’s eyes, and he strokes his cock which drools pre-come onto his lower stomach, rough and fast, blinded by pleasure as you find that bundle of nerves up his ass and graze it with the tip of the dildo.

“How’re you doing Paulie?” You spare a breathless smile to Paul whose nipples are so pretty and dark and stiff, his whole chest splotched down to his stomach, his cock hard and leaking in his hand.

“Can I come feel you? Please?” He asks immediately, biting at his plush lips, licking the sweat off of them, his glasses already fogging up as he whines, “Please let me.”

“Yeah, yes, come here Paul, come feel me, touch me.” You allow, laughing as he scrambles to get behind you, get his hands on you.

You can feel Paul’s cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing through your folds as you fuck his brother with the strap, Paterson crying thick tears of pleasure, his fist squeezing around his cock.

“I’m going to – fuck I’m gonna come.” He gasps, and you shake your head.

“No, no not yet.” You don’t let up on his prostate and he doesn’t slow down stroking himself off, even as you order him in your most loving yet firm tone, “Don’t you dare come yet baby.”

“But angel it’s – ah! – oh it’s so good.” Paterson babbles and moans, and you can’t help but moan too with the way the head of Paul’s cock keeps slicking up into your pussy from behind, catching accidentally as your hips pull back.

“I want you to come inside me, can you hold out a little longer baby? Just a little longer, for me?” You slow down, longer harder thrusts instead of short fast ones that have Paterson’s eyes rolling back into his head.

“Oh fuck, yeah, yes I can wait, I’ll – ohh -- !” He’s on the cusp of coming but you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, stopping the orgasm before it can really start. Paterson whines, especially when you carefully carefully pull away from him, the strap easing out of his ass.

“B-both, fuck I want both of you, now.” Your hands are shaking with eager anticipation of your own, and you have trouble with the buckles of the harness around your hips.

“How?” Paul is an angel, an absolute darling, and he helps you, soothes the marks on your hips from where it was fastened a little too snug, dug into your flesh. Paul kisses your shoulders, his hand already cupping your pussy, big palm holding you there. “How do you want us? Want me to fuck your ass?”

“No, no you’re both getting pussy tonight, you’ve been so good.” You shake your head, and they both light the fuck up at that.

You don’t often do this, have sex with the both of them at the same time, and rarely do they both get to pound your pussy, but you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about this all day, that you’ve wanted this ever since you heard Paul was coming back from a work trip.

Paterson is too pleasure-weak to sit up, so he just rolls onto his side and pulls your back against his chest, his raging hard cock sliding into your pussy with ease as he bites down on your shoulder. You’re soaked already, all the lube from the strap having slid through your folds, but also the product of your own arousal.

Paul lays down on his side in front of you, kisses you hungrily, his hands guiding your leg to lift and wrap over his hip, opening and stretching you further so that he can push his cock up into your cunt too, making you moan, making your jaw drop. He takes the opportunity to kiss you, suck on your tongue, and your body sweats, lights on fire.

“Oh shit,” You gasp, one arm shoved under Pauls’ neck to fist at his hair, the other hand reaching back to grab at Paterson’s side, keep them both close, keep them so close as they move in tandem inside you. “You’re both so fucking big.”

“Yeah?” Paul asks, knowing Paterson can’t speak, the feeling of your pussy rendering him speechless aside from deep breathy moans and sobs that wet your neck where he’s still sucking biting kiss kiss kissing you. Paul’s worked up, but he’s not so fucked out yet, so he does the talking for the two of them, eyes pleading, eager, “Good?”

“So – oh my god – sososo good, oh – fuck!” You shout, because you’re so overwhelmed in the best way possible, feeling their cocks fuck into you, feeling them stretch you tight. Your chest heaves and Paul rubs your nipples softly, treats you with the gentle care that you give to them.

They both love you so much, they’re both enamored with you, thankful for you. They smile at one another when you shout again, Paterson’s hand reaching around your hip and rubbing at your clit. The sensations are everywhere, everything, all at once and altogether too much – but you love it, you love how they fuck you like this.

“Look at her she’s gonna come on my cock.” Paterson mumbles into your throat, drooling all over the place as he thrusts inside your cunt.

“No she’s gonna come on my cock, so beautiful, she’s so beautiful.” Paul grins, cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply while Pat swirls circles on your clit.

“Ungh, I – oh – !” Your body snaps up, tenses for a split second before going pliant in their arms, melting in the sandwich between them as your orgasm shatters through you.

It’s nothing but pure sensation, nothing but bright white hot wet slick pleasure pleasure pleasure, as they fuck you through your orgasm, as you gush on their cocks and slick them up further, let them thrust deeper into your body. Paul pulls your leg up higher so he can get closer, and soon the brothers are coming against one another inside you.

They’re both so good, so fucking big, that come leaks out of you almost immediately. It soils the sheets, oozes and drips all across your thighs, sticks into the dark hair above their groins, and they both grunt out and whine through earth-shattering orgasms of their own, milking their cocks to give you every drop, dragging out your pleasure as you shudder and tremor and tremble and gasp between them.

 Eventually, the three of you calm down, limbs sore and exhausted. They pull out one at a time, carefully and slowly so as to not hurt you, and they scoop you up in between them once again, arms sweat-slick as they hold you, the three of you gulping down breaths to try and get your hearts beating in a normal rhythm.

You’re all grinning, stuck in that post-orgasm glow that’s got you all in the case of the giggles, and you can’t think of anything more perfect than this – having the men you love in your bed, your best boys, all together.

“I love you.” You tell them, meaning it for both of them, meaning it equally, as they each steal kisses from your lips, your cheeks, your neck and shoulders. They cover you in kisses and you cover them in return, rewarding them for treating you so well, for caring about you so much. 

“Love you too.” They whisper almost simultaneously, before the three of you break out into blissful laughter once again.

Your stomach growls, and they rub the sound away, the both of them exchanging a look as if to say fuck we forgot food. Luckily, you only smile up at them and remember the takeout that’s waiting downstairs, not even bothering to attempt to get up but still cheekily asking,

“Who’s in the mood for Italian?”

                                        --------------------------------------

I literally do not know who to tag for this lol i’m sorry in advance if you guys don’t want this @ohiobluetip​ @clumsycopy​ @direnightshade​ @autumnlovesadam​ @steeevienicks​ @okk--maaan​ @lovinggothdonkeyhoagie​ 

#paterson x reader #paterson/reader #paterson imagine #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier/reader #paul sevier imagine #paterson x reader x paul sevier #adam driver character #paterson smut #paterson fluff #paul sevier smut #paul sevier fluff #midnight special

[naivesilver]

@bewilderedmoth​ FINE. Fine. Since today is a Monday and therefore a day much more suited for a vitriolic commentary on terrible insects, I shall fulfill your request and the anon’s. I’m warning everyone in the premises, though -  this is a “no fucks given” list, so it may get ugly at any time. Also, as usual, this is only for things that I’ve already watched, so if you know of some cricket horror and don’t see it mentioned, assume I’ve yet to get to that specific adaptation.

Alright then! To the barricades!

1) Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)

The first of his genre. Look at this asshole - he’s literally the last creature I’d entrust my child to. The fact Pinocchio had to spend his first couple days of life with this guy shadowing his every step is mind-boggling, and it’s made even worse by the fact that the Blue Fairy put him in charge of another man’s kid, as though she had the right to make that choice.

(I won’t fall for the desire of dunking on the Fairy more, as this is a Cricket list, but believe me, the temptation is there. It always is.)

As Disney sidekicks go, he’s one of the worst. He’s not funny, and despite having literally ONE job he manages to fail spectacularly at it. He’s snappish at Pinocchio, he abandons his charge about two hours into the new day, he spends a much longer time flirting with female-presenting inanimate objects/animals/supernatural beings than doing any actual childrearing. He should have been forgotten the instant the movie left the theaters, but instead Disney made him one of his main mascots, giving him the role of storyteller or ghost or whatever the fuck they need him to do at the time. So not only is he single-handedly responsible for every other entry in this list, I keep finding him everywhere I turn my eyes to. A knock-off version of his Ghost of Christmas Past self was in the new Ducktales, too, so my friend freenklin (who already has had to endure many of my complaints) received some VERY disappointed scream-texts as I was liveblogging my watch.

Just...no. Get him out of my sight.

(Also Ewan McGregor is bound to voice him in the live action and like??? Excuse me??? Are we supposed to not make Obi Wan jokes??? Will he abandon his young padawan Pinocchio to the evil Strombolitroopers???)

2) Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night (1987)

This movie is at the bottom of my Pinocchio adaptation ranking, and boy, does it deserve the dishonor. The story is a weird mixture of adaptation and sequel, approximately a tenth of the characters actually appear in the book, and I can’t forgive them for ruining what could have been the coolest concept ever (Pinocchio as a pawn in a fight of good vs evil) into this disgrace of a cartoon.

As for the Cricket, in this case he’s not even a cricket. He’s a glowworm, and he’s a goddamn puppet too, to whom the Fairy gave life. I wonder, is the entirety of her job just...transforming people’s creations into sentient beings so that they can lead others to a honest life? Tell me, ma’am, do you want to breathe life into my disappointing Powerpoint presentations too, so that they might bully me into graduating?

Anyway, if you’re wondering what purpose Gee Willikers (sigh) serves, the answer is NONE. Pinocchio gets rid of him at least twice (good for him) and as easily as drinking a glass of water, he’s a burden to the (admittedly cooler) additional characters, like the aviator bee, and not only is he ugly as fuck, but also so annoying every time he gets a chance to speak that it’s a miracle he wasn’t cut out in post-production.

In short, disgusting. If he entered my home I’d swat him with a flycatcher until he leaves.

3) Pinocchio (2009)

This is essentially Disney’s Jiminy Cricket, but female, anthropomorphic, and with a passion for books instead of pretty ladies or ladies-adjacent objects. Mind you, a sapphic Cricket would perhaps have saved more than one adaptation, this one included, but I’m glad they skipped that part altogether. This miniseries has enough issues as it is.

I’m sorry, she’s just too annoying. Luciana Littizzetto can be funny, but in small doses, otherwise her jokes start to become repetitive. Two hours straight - and yes, it’s that much, because SOMEONE decided to follow Disney’s footsteps a little too well - are too long even for the strongest of hearts. Plus, none of the characters’ costumes are very flattering, accurate or well-made (except for Lampwick 💖), but hers just might take the cake. It looks like a mixture between a teenager’s first attempt at steampunk fashion and a Mardi Gras costume lifted from the discarded items’ bin at a cheap store. Takes you out of the fantasy more than anything else.

4) Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio (2002)

I’ve talked at length of the weirdness of this movie, but all in all it’s a pretty accurate transposition of the story, from the dialogue to the scenery.

Except for him.

The Cricket in this case does appear in the scenes belonging to him, but ALSO in a long and extremely useless sequence where he tries to find Pinocchio in the Land of Toys and gets kicked around by literally everyone present. Don’t get me wrong, that’s something I would have liked to do as well, but it was totally unnecessary, and it gave nothing to the overall story. This movie still holds the record as the most expensive Italian movie ever made, so wouldn’t it have been better for everybody to  skip that part entirely? Not only it would have saved them some money, but also it would have saved me from seeing this guy for an additional fifteen minutes on my screen.

Still, pretty tame compared to some of the others. Could have been worse.

5) Once Upon A Time (2011)

I debated long and hard before making this choice, and I’m not putting him in with a light heart, but before you come at me with pitchforks, please listen.

I like Archie, okay! He’s a fun character, the human side of his backstory was great and gave him a lot of depth and inner turmoil, and the concept of Jiminy Cricket being a therapist is amazing and hilarious. But he’s kind of a shit therapist, whose actions aren’t always what you’d expect from someone who’s supposed to be a conscience and a guide. And despite the show giving us the impression that he and Pinocchio had the same adventures as in the Disney movie (which doesn’t exactly endear him to me - if it wasn’t for his later character development he’d already be Lil Nas X-ing his way down to the bottom of my list), he and August never interacted on screen after the First Curse broke. Not once. And if there’s someone who needs therapy and support, that’s August Wayne Booth.

Yes, I did say at some point that I’d like to fix this in a fic. I’ll write it when I don’t have like eight projects on my table at the same time.

Finally, two scenes settled the matter for me: one, him pontificating at Snow about her trying to do everything on her own, without even pretending to help her set up the stroller she was struggling with at that very moment. I work with kids every day, I know exactly what she’s going through. Shut your mouth and open the damn stroller, Archie.

And two...That one fucking scene where he’s jumping out of Snow White’s cleavage. Honestly, what the fuck??? I wouldn’t even have remembered it if Libby hadn’t reminded me, so I suppose my brain tried to remove the traumatic memory before it caused any further damage, but it exists, and I’m still wondering why. What exactly was the deal with the writers, when they made that choice? I want a glass of what they were having, because by God, does it sound like a trip-inducing cocktail.

Aaaand we’re done! Remember, this is all part of my personal opinion, and I’m not to be taken seriously even on the best of days. Plus, my favorite cricket-esque character, aside from the book-accurate ones, is Gina from Piccolino no Bouken, who is a duck, a sassy little bastard and no closer to Collodi’s canon than any of these fuckers. So yes, when it comes to choices dictated by the heart, I am an hypocrite. Au revoir!

#the amount of time I spent of this is not comparable to the lampwick post #but it's still A LotTM for a cricket rant #meme gif included #pinocchio

[ja-khajay]

2020-2021 Animation Watch(ed)list

I haven’t posted about animation in a while that I remember, and I know a lot of my followers are into it as much as me so I decided to make a list of the animated movies and series I watched on the past year or so, coupled with my short, spoilerless take on them. Enjoy!

Organized by

Things I saw for the first time

Things I rewatched

Under a cut for the sake of your dashboards! PS: I have not added any images yet. If you are interested in knowing more about the visuals of these movies, I might make an old fashion ask-prompted imageset list.

Part One: Things I saw for the first time

The Bear’s Famous Invasion of Sicily

Movie, 2019, Italian/French

9/10, a delightful little movie with amazing visuals. It feels like an animated picture book.

One of those “plot is in the title” media! I had never heard of this before but was heavily recommended it by my family members, who all loved it! It’s a sweet story, nothing groundbreaking but the unique colorful visual style alone makes it worth it.

The Castle of Cagliostro

Movie, 1979, Japanese

10/10. Reminded me of all the books i loved reading as a child

I assume its because it’s so old and the art style and themes are so different that it gets little to no love compared to other Ghibli movies, which is a shame! It’s fun with an endearing cast and as always, great animation and music

Mushishi

Series, 2006, Japanese

10/10 three episodes in I knew it was going to be my favorite series ever

One of the few things I’ve seen I’ll describe as life-changing. It’s absolutely lovely but never toots its own horn about it. Humble, calming, emotional and surprisingly mature. It’s pretty impossible to binge due to how intense the experience is. I just want to walk in the forest now...

FMA: Brotherhood

Series, 2009, Japanese

6/10 Dissapointing adaptation of a classic story

I read the manga for this when I was in middle school and remembered loving it. The animated version does an ok job of presenting the characters and worldbuilding and has some nice action scenes but overall looks really damn cheap and just. Not very good. Seeing I already knew most of the plot I did not have the element of discovery that made me marvel so much reading the original. It’s still a nice series but I really recommend reading it instead.

Code Lyoko (s1+2)

Series, 2003, french

3/10. 1.5 being for the opening song alone

This show sucks ass if I hadn’t been watching this with my bestie I would have dropped it two episodes in. The art style is ugly the stories are always the same and the first season has a (later removed thank fucking god) LITERAL “erase any consequences” button as a plot device in every episode. If you watch it for one thing let it be the nostalgia factor of early 00s Vidya Game Plot

The Legend of Hei

Movie, 2019, Chinese

7/10. Impressive visuals and a poor story

I finally watched this, peer pressured by the load of gifsets on my dashboard! It’s a sweet movie with really impressive animation, sometimes a bit too flashy for my taste (the action sequences go so ham they become not very readable...) but the story was just ok? The setting is barely explained and you are instead bombarded with vague epicspeech about powers and stuff that made me fondly remember Kingdom Hearts lol but that asides it’s a really good time! I need to watch more Chinese movies the few I know are just delightfully off the shits in how they approach action and I love that

Hunter x Hunter

Series, 1999, Japanese

9/10. Superior to the recent one!

I first got introduced to the series via the 2011 one. Comparatively, the 99 series focuses way less on action and way more on the characters, which I love because that fits my personal preferences! Despite mediocre filler episodes and some weird slight pointless plot changes, what it changes from the original manga doesn’t have much of an impact on the characters. The animation quality isn’t always consistent including a huge art style change for an arc (???) but it’s overall pretty nice. The series really shines in the last arc it adapts.

Oban Star-racers

Series, 2006, Japanese/french

9/10 a lovely surprise

This series is completly obscure despite having been created by people famous for their other series (Cowboy Bebop, Code Lyoko that i can name) and it’s a crime! It’s a kids show but without being stupid about it who tells the story of an inter-planetary race. If you liked that one scene in the star wars prequels you know what I mean. It’s got surprisingly nice animation for a TV series, and some truly great character design. The art style is a bit unique in a not for everyone sense, but I didn’t mind it much. It’s also THE most offensively 2000s series i’ve seen in terms of visuals. y2k kids assemble

The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon

Movie, 1963, japanese

8/10. Classic fairytale format with incredible visuals

Watched this for the art style because I know it inspired Samurai Jack, and it delievered! I dont’ have much to say about this one, it’s a very simply film but it’s sweet. For my pirates out there if you want to find it in good quality with english subtitles it’s VERY hard to find. If you just want to see the looks of it, it’s on Youtube with portugese subs.

We now enter the Gobelins Shorts Zone....!

My Friend Who Glows In The Dark

10/10 makes me cry each time

Pure delight...great animation writing everything. A little short about death and friendship but not in the way you imagine!

Colza

9/10

Visual treat...homely and nice :) not far from a 10 but a 9 because nothing about it is that groundbreaking

Sundown

9/10

If you’ve ever been ten minutes from failing a group project because of a single dude you will REALLY enjoy this. Loved the colors and personality

T’as vendu mes rollers?

10/10

It’s SUCH a sweet little short I loved that one so much

Dix-huit kilomètres trois

10/10

Surprisingly well written dialog. Visuals are great but the humanity of the characters carries this to another level

Un diable dans la poche

9/10

Amazing visuals and the most tense/creepy of Gobelin shorts i’ve ever seen. Chilling

La bestia

8/10

I had some issues with the pacing. Interesting story and visuals choices but I was not fond of the art style

Goodbye Robin

5/10

Confusing but predictable. Both at once??? Yes!

Le retour des vagues

6/10

Cool animation stuff but felt pretty pointless

                                                                ***

Part Two: Things I rewatched

Ruben Brandt: Collector

Movie, 2018, Hungarian

10/10. Underrated as hell

Watched this fully blind for the first time in an animated festival and rewatched it with friends. It’s a crime I never see anyone talking about it given the amount of whining I see about the lack of both adult animation and 2D movies? This film is a unique love letter to art in the form of a weird mix of charming crime story and psychological horror with amazing visuals. I recommend watching it blind and also buying it to show appreciation for how nice it is!!! WATCH THIS MOVIE...

Mononoke

Series, 2007, Japanese

10/10 Visual/storytelling masterpiece in the weird shit departement

If you can stomach intense stuff watch this. The visuals are incredibly unique and beautiful and under the jewel tones and art direction high takes it’s a really cool horror series. My only obstacle to enjoying it the first time I saw it was how dense it is - simply put, it’s so...culturally Japanese it’s not very accessible to me who doesn’t know anything about the culture? Watching it for the second time helped understanding the stories more! 

Corto Maltese in Siberia

Movie, 2002, french

9/10 but really close to ten. A great adaptation!

I’m a huge fan of the original comic so I entered this a biiiittttt suspicious it would suck but it was a really pleasant surprise! It has all the wonder and charm of the original and the animation was surprisingly good for the little budget. If you’re not familiar with the series, it’s a sort of geopolitical action/adventure movie but with it’s own really poetic vibe to it. It’s almost impossible to find online but happens to be fully on YouTube so go ham I guess?

Redline

Movie, 2009, Japanese

10/10 cinema was invented for this, actually

Every review of this movie i’ve seen gives it five stars and starts by talking about how immensly stupid it is. I’m no different. It’s a masterpiece of escalating energy with the depth of a puddle and it fucking rules. It’s free on YouTube too so there really is no excuse to not watch it. Watched it for the first time on a huge cinema screen and despite this my second rewatch on my small laptop was as/even more enjoyable. If you watch this stoned with friends you might travel to another dimension

Spirited Away

Movie, 2001, Japan

10/10 deserves the love it gets

I watched this a single time as a kid and had little memory of it! I mean it’s Ghibli you know it’s going to be good as hell but this one rly shines in how colorful and detailed it is and in it’s world! It made me remember I had a huge crush on the dragonboy as a kid. I’m gay now

Kung-fu Panda (1&2)

Movie, Usa

10/10. KFP fucking rules

Honestly my favorite franchise of the whole disney/dreamworks/pixar hydra. It’s fun as hell, doesn’t skip a single beat and has amazing animation and character designs. If something is a good time I will not care if it’s deep or not and boy I fucking love these movies

Sinbad, Legend of the Seven Seas

Movie, 2003, Usa

5/10 Some great some really bad and overall generic

I tend to hate american cinema and this includes that era of animation I have no nostalgia for. Sinbad is in a weird place because I love adventure stories and the visuals of the movie absolutely deliver but it’s very predictable and TANKED by the addition of the female character, pushed in your face as “look we have woman!!!” despite her writing being misogynistic as hell lol. The evil goddess rules tho. This movie would have been a solid 9 if instead of the girl the two dudes had kissed

#j #animation #if you want links to these ill provide but not for the indie ones that arent free #i have no remorse p*rating disney or a movie thats over 50 but if its recent and underrated just legally get it!!!

[words-for-holland]

The Songs in Our Life: It’s Not a Date

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N & Tom learn more about each other on their night out together...but remember it’s not a date.

Inspired by: I Wanna Know You - Hannah Montana & David Archuleta

Album Description | Track 1 | Track 2 |

Waiting. It’s the action of staying where you are to delaying something until a certain time has come or something happens. 

For instance, Y/N and Tom were due for a date at 5:40pm, and the wait was almost unbearable for them. Not that it was ever an official date....but the idea of seeing each other again the very same day brought a feeling of excitement. Something that neither had felt in a very long time. Seconds, minutes, and the remaining hours passed. Y/N had clocked out of work, shoved her laptop in her bag, and made her way down to lobby to meet Tom. As she approached the area, her steps slowed and ultimately stopping in her tracks. Seeing Tom, casually waiting brought a new found feeling. She smiled at him, already thinking about the possibilities of the if’s and’s & wants in her future, but immediately shook out the thought. 

“C’mon Y/N it’s way too early to be thinking like this. You haven't even gone on a date with him yet and you're already thinking about a future. Jesus.” Y/N muttered to herself, verbally smacking some common sense into her brain. 

As she continued to walk towards Tom, he looked up to meet her eyes and started walking to her direction. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.” he greeted with that boyish smile. He offered his hands, gesturing to allow him to carry her bag, but Y/N simply shook her head and declined the offer. “It’s okay. I got it.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“Of course, but would it be okay if we stopped by my apartment to drop this off?” Y/N replied to him. “I really don't want to be carrying this around while I blow your mind with the best food in the city.” 

Tom hadn’t replied to Y/N’s question, he was too busy thinking about..well...her. In his mind, he would have been more bold and responded to her question like ‘Aw, here I was hoping you were just going to invite me in to stay there and I can show you a really good time’. Or ‘Nothing blows my mind more than you’.

Instead what came out was “Yeah, sure that’s fine.” he smiled back, mentally slapping himself for not being able to pull off something smoother.

“Okay, let’s go. It’s not that far.” Y/N lead the way, with Tom following behind. There it was. That awkward-but-not-so-awkward tension coming up as the two walked in silence to Y/N’s apartment. Both knew it wasn’t an official date, so why was it hard to just strike a conversation? Y//N and Tom fought with their inner conscious as they tried to figure out how to make the first move. It was then when both Tom and Y/N, took a deep breath and said out loud their questions the same time.

They laughed at their failed attempts to strike a proper conversation, and tried to make it better by saying “You first.” in unison and then “No you.” 

Tom gestured to Y/N to speak first. “So how was your press interview? Did you get in trouble for being late?” Y/N asked as they continued to walk the streets of 34th Avenue.

Tom looked at Y/N’s way, recollecting their first meet up. Indeed Tom was extremely late, but if he hadn’t been he wouldn’t be in this position right now with her. “Yeah it went well. I just got in a little bit of trouble, but it’s okay. Sometimes you’ve got to live a little dangerously.” he winked, which made Y/N’s cheeks display the most delicate shade of pink. “What about you? How was work?”

Y/N shrugged at his question. “Can’t complain. Im still new to the company, but the projects are fun and everyone’s welcoming and a pleasure to work with. Just hoping I dont mess it up.”

“Im sure you won’t. You dont seem to be that type.” Tom responds truthfully.

Y/N looks at him and smiles. “Oh? And what type do I seem to be?” She challenges him, but before he could speak, they make it to Y/N’s apartment.

She jiggles the key in and opens the door for Tom, allowing him to enter first. The first thing that catches his eyes are the cream colored walls and soft blue furniture accents. Papers are piled up on a table, and pictures of Y/N with her friends and family placed decoratively on the walls. Candles were lit and the T.V. was softly playing in the background. “Wow...this is really cozy.” Tom reacts, intaking the surrounding. “Though I must say I usually get invited inside the house on the second date.” He laughs at his sorry joke.

Thankfully Y/N’s sense of humor was extremely easy tonplease, and she laughed along with him, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Oh stop, I told you I need to set my stuff down. I —”

“Hey Y/N I was wondering what—” Y/N’s roomate and best friend comes in to the living room seeing a rare sighting of Y/N with a man. “Oh...I didnt know we had company.” She smiles, trying her best to contain her excitement for her best friend.

“Oh right.” Y/N closes her eyes briefly in hopes that her best friend doesnt embarrass her. “Um Tom this is Kaitlyn, she’s my best friend and roomate. Kaitlyn this is Tom H—”

“Believe me. I know who you are.” Kaitlyn smiles widely. “It’s...wow..a surprise really. Nice to meet you.”

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tom greets back shaking her hand.

“So are you two like...” Kaitlyn gestures as she squiches her hands together. “On a date?”

Both Y/N’s and Tom’s eyes widen, both of their cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. They knew it wasnt such a bad thing to consider, them being on a date and getting romantic. But they just met, neither wanted to risk the chance of screwing it up. “Of course not. I was just planning to show Tom around the city, since he’s not from here.”

Tom would be lying if he said his heart didnt drop just a little, but he wasnt going to let that show. Even though he wanted it to be so much more than a hang out. “Yeah, I figured why not....since we’re friends.” There it goes again..that awkward silence.

“Uh huh. Im sure you both will enjoy your friendly hangout. Y/N knows all the best places to eat.”

“I wouldnt doubt it.” Tom smiles.

“And we should get going...uhh Kaitlyn you’re welcome to join us if you want?” Y/N interjects as she and Tom get ready to go out.

“Oh. It’s fine! You two go out. Im good here.” Kaitlyn rejects and winks at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she leads Tom out. Not far from her home, the two make it to Chelea’s Market, where they indulge in all things Italian. From the flavorful pasta, to the fresh steamy focaccia bread that comes right out of the stone oven. It was Y/N’s go-to place to impress anyone visiting. The food was great and the scenery outside was beautiful.

While the food was incredible, Tom’s prescence was where the real magic came to play. She could only imagine what hanging out with a celebrity would be like, but Tom was another story.

She took in how engaged he was with her stories about growing up in a small town in New Jersey with her family, how Kaitlyn and two other friends had stayed together since they were 6, and how her life had felt so barred until she moved here in the city, feeling free for the first time ever.

He was interested in all of it. Tom’s eyes looked at her with endearment, and his smile grew the more he heard about her most heart touching memories, his laugh becoming more robust and joyus when she told him a funny memory. He was falling for her, even though he didnt want to admit it just yet. While he got a good chunk of her life, he wanted to know more.

Y/N on the other hand, wanted to turn the tables. “So what about you?” She asked, as they both made their way to the High Line, warm latte in hand.

“What do you mean?” He questions back, displaying a coy smile.

“C’mon you know what I mean. What’s your story? And when I mean story I dont mean how you got famous.” Y/N explains as they continue walking.

Tom looked down at the ground, thinking. He couldnt remember the last time a stranger wiuld ask about his life, and not just the story about his career. “Well, I have 3 younger brothers. A set of twins named Sam and Harry and a younger brother name Paddy but we like to call him Padster. I lived with my best mate Harrison for 4 years. Love sports but golfing all time has to be my favorite. Ironically, Im terrified of spiders and I hate cheese.”

Y/N took in his 5 minute biography, and thought about how genuine he was. Just like she did, Tom gave stories about his brothers and best friend, and the more he talked the real he felt to Y/N. Their friendship was blossoming and in this moment nothing felt out of place. “Wow, you hate cheese?! Cheese is single-handely the best creation on this planet. I feel sorry for the girl that had to deal with that.” Y/N stopped her tracks, realizing what she just slipped in. She didnt mean to mention about a potential girlfriend he did or didnt have, it just...happened.

“Haha Im sure she doesn’t mind. She doesnt particulary like cheese either.” He plays along, but Y/N’s spirit started to lower. So there was a girl after all. She should have known.

“Oh, so there is a girl. Isnt there?” She speaks in a monotone.

“Of course! Tessa shes been with me for awile. Cheeky little dog, but I love her so much.” Tom laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Y/N shook her head as she caught on his words. Dog? Upon realization, she shook her head looking down at the ground hiding her embarrassment.

“Sorry. I had to.” He continued to laugh, “but your face and attitude was priceless. Its almost as if you we’re jealous or soemthing.”

“What?! Me jealous?! Please.” Y/N tried miserably to play off.

“C’mon I saw those lips purse and that cute nose scrunch. You looked wee bit jealous.” Tom stated as he lifted her chin to meet his eyes. The moment was tense and silent but not akward. They took in each others features, lips getting closer, eyes slowly closing until... “It’s getting late.”Y/N whispered. Both let down by the moment being ruined.

Tom pulled away with a look of disappointment. “Yeah...you’re right. I’ll walk you back? My hotel is not far from your place.” He offered.

“Of course it’s not. It’s the tri-state area. Everything here is 30 minutes or less.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I would like that a lot.”

They continued to walk back home, side by side with light conversations. Almost forgetting their almost-kiss on their unofficial date. As they reached the steps of Y/N’s apartment. The two bid their farewell.

“Well I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you Y/N.” Tom said smiling at her as he held her hand.

“Likewise. I cant remember the last time I had this much fun.” Y/N admits, hoping that this wouldnt be the first and last time she’d see him. “Maybe we can do this again?” She bravely suggests.

“I’d love that. See you soon, darling.” With that he kissed her goodbye on the cheek as he made his way to the hotel, but not until he made sure, Y/N got inside safely.

Proceed to Track 3.

Taglist (Send an ask or message to be added):

@horanxholland @peterspideyy @stan-ish230403 @averyfosterthoughts @eridanuswave @greatpizzascissorstaco

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

[neroziehe]

Marcus hadnt gone straight back harvent like josiah had demanded. He had instead stopped off in a town about 40 minutes away, to take care off some business. It had been a deal that hed been working on, for a number of weeks now and was so close to getting that final handshake to seal it!

It was for a row of 5 connected buildings. All home to different independent shops, that had resided there for years now. But the position was like a dream come true. The invest,ent oppurtunity marcus would be able to drive once he manages to evict the families currently there would bring in a sizeable revenue! Even josiah would be chuffed with that work. So he set up a face to face meeting with the landlord- human by the name of Clive Mayes. It was in coffee shop on the other side of the road to the buildings.

Clive had already been waiting when marcus arrived with artemis. He was a small man, with a stocky build. Curly grey black hair that could have done with a tidy up. He was wearing a pair of slacks that looked a size to big and a crinkled shirt under his chunky knit cardigan. He looked like your typical grandpa, and rightly so as he was nearing his 70th birthday.

Marcus on the other hand wore one of his better suits. Tailored fit, Italian cut with a nice tie pin in the shape of a bee. We wont mention were it came from though. His shoes clicked harshly on the concrete as he strode up to where clive was sat at one of the outside tables, holding out his hand.

Clive waved him off and nodded to the seat " we've spoke plenty my boy. No need for such formalities now" he grinned his tether stained a faint yellow with age.

" my apologise... sir" marcus replied, taking the offered seat, artemis sat beside him obediently.

Clive glanced down at the bag marcus had clutched under one shoulder " dont tell me theres more paperwork" he groaned in good nature. " cant a man simply retire".

Marcus smirked a little at the man, his easy going nature both endearing and making for an easy investment " I'm afraid so sir. But only 2 pages that will need your approval and signature" he slid the bag across the table as Clive reached in to his pocket for his glasses.

#rp20 #abi #marcus

[lvlyhao]

Moments (Tom Holland x reader)

A/N: first Tom one-shot I actually completed! The reader is a female since it’s what I am used to working with. If I keep writing, I’ll try to make everything GN. Sort of proud of this, and I hope you all like it^^, and if you do, please like and reblog! 

Warnings: none. This is pure fluff.

Info you might need: Castellucio is a small village in Italy, and a very pretty one at that. It’s known for the flowerings that take place in the fields, every Spring. There are fields of lentils, poppies, violets... and I chose the red poppies.

Y/N = Your Name. M/N = Middle Name. L/N = Last Name. H/C = Hair Colour. E/C = Eye Colour. F/C = Favourite Colour. 

----------------------------------------

When the first rays of sun peek through the sheer curtains, Tom’s eyes flutter gently. The world is hazy the moment he opens them, seeing the entire room melt golden under the light. The air feels warm and balmy over his bare skin, immersing the two bodies in amenity as the early birds chirp outside.

Two bodies.

Finally coming to himself, the brown-haired boy stirs under the satiny sheets, looking for the glow of his lover. When his hand bumps into her, his heart beats faster. There she is, fast asleep, snoring softly and sprawled on her back. Her delicate skin seems velvety where glorious drops of light dance upon it. Her hair, H/C and silky, spreads over the ivory pillow like a halo. Soft, swollen lips give out peaceful breaths, and her hands are neatly folded over her stomach. A dot of glimmer attracts his gaze, and on her left hand, he finds the elegant ring. His ring, that he gave to her just yesterday.

Thinking back to that moment, it seemed like ages ago. The crimson fields of poppies of Castellucio encircled them and contrasted with her F/C dress—the one he always said was his favourite. His chocolate locks were an absolute mess from the wind, and he could only imagine how sweaty he looked, wearing a polo shirt and dress-pants under the scorching sun. Y/N didn’t seem to mind it that much, though. 

The second he kneeled on the grass, she started sobbing and grinning like a dork. It was endearing, how she couldn’t refrain from smiling even when he was talking about their (many) embarrassing memories. That tiny detail made him fall even harder for her. Every sliver of doubt he had left dissolved when she interrupted his speech, falling to the ground in front of him and lacing her arms around his neck. 

“That was enough”, she had muttered, “just ask the damn question already!”. Tom chuckled, reviving the way his voice cracked when he followed her request.

“Y/N M/N L/N, darling”, he grasped her hands, “will you marry me?”

Tears flowed down their faces as she nodded soundlessly time and again, too thrilled to find her voice. He slid the ring in her finger and they stood there, arms around the other and bawling their eyes out. For an instant, there was nothing else there—the flowers were gone, the Sun was hidden by the clouds, the winds turned into a breeze and even the smell of the Italian summer vanished. It was just the two of them, clinging onto each other for dear life and drowning in the chaste feeling of love. It was easily the best moment of his life.

Was it really?

Drinking in the sleeping figure of his fianceè, Tom thought about the day he met her. 29/04/20, a Wednesday, when he went live for the Marvel pub quiz. It had been genuinely amazing, to interact with his followers like that. He could still hear Harry's voice, telling him what to do to invite people to join the transmission.

“Such a grandpa”, he had said, shaking his head in amusement. Tom ignored him, randomly calling a username from the live chat to answer the final question—what does S.H.I.E.L.D stand for? 

The bright face that popped onto the screen one second later took his breath away. She had the most beautiful E/C eyes, sparkling with kindness and life. H/C strands framed her face, and her smile made his heart skip a beat, even with the low quality of the video. 

It was like everything around him froze; no one dared to move, fearing the moment would shatter. 

Except for his brother, though, seated to his left. 

“Oi, mate”, he nudged Tom, “read the question.” 

The brunette boy snapped out of it, covering his blush with a smirk and pretending he couldn’t hear Haz snickering behind him. Is it that obvious? 

Yes, of course, it was. How could it not be, when not only was she the loveliest girl he had ever seen but also a Marvel fan?

Y/N got the question right, not missing a beat when he asked. The three of them, on the other side of her screen, cheered a bit louder than necessary, and then he ended the live. Both his brother and best friend teased the hell out of him for the next few days. The fandom, of course, made memes about it, and eventually, Tom slid into her DMs. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Tenderly clasping her right hand, not to wake her up, the boy shifts and stares at the ceiling. It is painted baby-blue and makes him think of the sweater she wore to the first Christmas spent with his family.

While juggling university and her job after quarantine ended, meeting his family wasn’t a top priority for Y/N. She and Tom always spoke about it, guessing how it would be like, but she was not ready the day he made the offer. 

“Go to my family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I promise you it’s gonna be awesome, they’re gonna love you! And if you feel comfortable, you can sleep there and spend Christmas with us. If you don’t, I’ll find a way to get you home in time. Please, love”, cue puppy-eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to say no to that, but she had never felt more jittery than in the week before the dinner.

When the 23rd rolled around, she was tense the entire day. Tom had tried everything to make her unwind, from running a hot bath to giving her a massage and attempting at making muffins (which turned out burnt and very salty). When he started to feel as helpless as his girlfriend, 5 pm struck, and they left to his parents’ house. The ride there was made in silence, only broken when he turned to her to whisper how much he loved her.

The next 2 hours or so went by in a blur. He couldn’t exactly spot how it all went—the first contact with his brothers and parents, finally meeting Haz, introducing her to Tessa… the first memories of the actual dinner began with what she told him, days later, about the exact moment she clicked with everyone.

The first person she befriended was Harrison. He was very sweet, keeping her company when Tom would leave to help his mom with something and making her feel at ease. The one point that made the two grow close was his cooking. She had seen both the hot bread and the pancake video, and just couldn’t help but bring them up. At first, he seemed quite bashful, but when Y/N said she couldn’t cook either, he decided he liked her. They talked for a long time, telling their most awkward cooking stories, and Tom watched everything from afar. I knew they'd get along.

Next was Harry, the sassy younger twin who seemed sort of intimidating. It’s not that he was mean, not at all, but he had a strong presence and for a split of a second, she thought he hated her. The tables turned when she mentioned her interest in photography and directing. It was all laughter, jokes and deep conversations by the fireplace after that, talking about some of their favourite films, photographers and directors. Harry turned out to be very kind, and the time she spent with him made her feel welcome.

With Sam, things were a bit different. Whenever Tom mentioned the twins, she thought the two of them would hit it off immediately. Apparently, though, she was too shy to initiate any kind of interaction with him and vice versa. Haz sensed her discomfort from the other side of the room and went to her aid. For the next 45 minutes, he acted as a bridge between them, keeping the chat going until they were talking like old friends. They bonded over the fact that they were huge Marvel fans, and discussed several theories for the next movies, as well as their favourite characters. Oh, how she loved the twins.

Getting to know Paddy was a challenge as well. He wasn’t timid but also didn’t seem very interested in talking. For most of the time, he played with Tessa quietly, time or another chiming in with a remark about something. It didn’t help that he was the youngest. Thinking back to everything Tom had told her about him, she couldn’t find a single topic to bring up. He was a high school kid, and that summed up everything they didn’t have in common. What would she talk about? Physics? Football? 

Things only clicked in her head when Tessa left his side to come to lick her hands, asking for pets and tossing around a rubber ball. So Y/N went outside and played catch, mutely hoping the boy would come around to play too. Soon enough, he did, and she bonded with the two of them at the same time.

By the time Nikki and Dom were finished with dinner, they were the only ones she hadn’t talked to a lot just yet. All the nerves that had gone away while she got to know the boys were back the moment everyone sat at the table. 

That was it. His parents. If they didn’t like her, chances were slim the relationship would last very long. Tom was a family person, and she'd never make him choose between them and her. 

She put on a charming smile, praying they’d get along, and complimented the food. A lot. Probably way more than she should, but there was no stopping now. It was her anxiety talking the wheel, after all. Luckily for her, they took it as a sign she was putting effort into making a good impression, and that was enough for them.

In one month, she was the closest thing to a sister the Holland boys had ever had. Things were fantastic after Christmas, and Tom could see a bright future for them. Waking up by her side was what he loved the most, but he could go on and on about every little thing he adored in her and their relationship.

One time, he did. It was their anniversary of two years, and Tom giggles at the mere thought of that. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong with his plans did go wrong, and he cried in front of Y/N, thinking he had ruined their special day. She took him in her arms, standing in the downpour at his favourite beach, where they were supposed to have a nice picnic. A long-forgotten basket was by her feet and the two were soaked to the bone, feeling a rainbow of emotions at once. 

Of course, she wasn't particularly cheery, but seeing Tom like that hurt, so she pushed her own frustration aside to take him home. There, wrapped tightly in 3 blankets and with a cup of cocoa in his hands, Tom was spoiled to death. They watched a bunch of Pixar movies, ordered pizza, took a bath together and, when the clock struck midnight, went to bed. 

The day was perfect, just not in the way she and Tom had imagined. It was better, actually, and the British boy decided to show her that with an impromptu speech. He had never been very good with words, but when he delicately cradled her face between his hands and began talking about the reasons why he loved her, he couldn’t stop. He told her about every tiny detail in her, from the way her nose crinkled when she smiled to how considerate she is. Recalling the moment she shut him up with a teary kiss, Tom realized he might have a tendency to overdo speeches. 

Now, lying side by side with the person he treasures above any other, he feels overwhelmed with love. The urge to take her in his arms, hold her close and defend her from the world brings a grin to his face as he gapes at her once more. Her eyes are starting to flutter, and soon she’ll be awake. 

Then, they’ll make plans for the afternoon and the night, since the morning is ending at this point. They’ll build one more memory for him to think about and laugh, and to someday tell their children about. They’ll go and live their dreams, cherishing and caring for one another. They’ll go and live thousands of perfect moments, because every moment by her side is the best of his life.

------------------------------------------

tagging some people I love here: @chaoticpete​ @underoosjae​ @spider-parker04​ @gwenvrse​ @lost-space-ranger​ @allegra-writes​

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #harrison osterfield #harry holland #sam holland #spiderman #fluff

[borisbubbles]

20. SAN MARINO

Senhit - “Freaky!”

Before we start, SORRY for not updating sooner. PED hit me sooner *and* harder than I anticipated and one of my tooth fillings dropped, so I’m currently on painkillers. Also the EBU’s online ‘replacement show’ for the first semifinal... :shudders: 

However, allow me to bring some happiness into my life (and by proxy, yours), by discussing the one, the only, the true 2020 Queen of EuroTRASH....

...

...

... Samanta Tina, in a few updates. 🤭

Until then, let’s dish on Senhit.

Entry Analysis. 

Hang on. Senhit you say? THIS SENHIT?

Yes, I am FOREMOST cuckoo-completely for the fact that SRMTV dug up this haggard frump from her crypt and forced her to do Eurovision simply because they had no other options <3 (and also because they had an Azerbaijani hand-me-down more on that in NF Corner). I always liked Senile Drunk Auntie Senit more than probably should (yes, “Stand by” is boring but 2011 is a dungheap, LET ME HAVE MY RANDOM FAVES OKAY)

Second of all, the accompanying transformation of Senit into SenHIT. We went from this:

to this?

LIFE IS GOOD WHEN YOU’RE IN A FREAKING(!) MIDLIFE CRISIS. 

Holy shit, what a transformation into... idek what to describe FREAKY!’s video clip as? A neo-neon-nightmare, featuring aggressively sexual grinding by Senhit, inflicted upon half-naked men in a setting that borrow heavily from Hatari’s BDSM couture? It’s fucking BONKERS. 

 May I also remind you that Senhit is EVEN OLDER THAN *BICENTANNIAL WOMAN TAMTARATAM* and despite this she manages to sell her sexual aggression as a something *FUNNY* without making herself look like a desperate tart? HER POWER. 😍

I also have to mention the fucking MARKETING campaign that accompanied this mad, menopausal circus of bad taste. You diehards probably noticed the San Marino 2021 mugs (those HIDEOUS teal/pink/sand coloured mugs <3) like I did and like me probably thought it was an elaborate hoax? Turn out... it somehow *wasn’t* a hoax and you could order them on Senhit’s personal website??? WHAT??? Btw, forget about the mugs, how about PERSONALIZED CONDOMS?

SOLD OUT lmfao <3 Bet most Senhit fans never actually used a condom before <3

All of this hogwash for a song that can best be described as an irrideemable pile of disco dreck. 😍  God I was SO on board with UNIRONICALLY stanning San Marino for once. #YesWeSen. 

and... then Eurovision 2020 was taken away from me, you and Senhit, and my appreciation towards her quickly dried up before it could settle as unironic stanning.😬 Sigh. BUT WORRY NOT QUEEN’S GOT YOU COVERED.

<3

NF Corner

Oh my fucking god, yes, the codswallop that was “Digital Battle Eurovision”. So, after months of silence (other than Senhit nasically spoiling her participation on social media, which no one really took seriously because come on, it’s Senhit) San Marino held something that was supposed to pass as a “national final” and it’s the shoddiest thing I’ve ever seen in the 8 years I’ve been following the preshow <3 

Okay so... This is where Azerbaijan come in. You may not know this yet, but “Cleopatra” by Efendi was, at some point during development, given to San Marino. I’m not sure about the exact details, but from what I heard and assumed, Azer’s broadcaster Ichtimai decided they didn’t need “Cleopatra”, so they gave the demo to San Marino, who then recruited Senhit to sing it in. Sounds like fan fiction and fortunately for us the recordings have made they way to the yubtubs so I can prove you it is gospel. Observe:

Senhit - “Cleopatra”

YES QUEEN OF THE GAYS <3 (lol I should keep my opinions on Efendi’s Cleopatra hidden for now, but spoilers I am going to fucking RIP that crock of shit to shreds once I get there).

So anyway, at *SOME* point after giving “Cleopatra” to the San Marinese, Ichtimai must’ve decided that “nope, Cleopatra will be OUR entry, thx” and punted Senhit out of her glorious pseudo-historical trash anthem (more on that too when I rank Azerbaijan), a WEEK before the deadline, (😂🤣) which of course meant that San Marino had to *improvize*. 😅

Enter: a ramshackle SING-OFF between two songs, deadline ON THE MORNING OF THE DELEGATION MEETING. 🤣. Your choices:

SONG #1 A trashy disco song that never would have stood a prayer at Eurovision and would’ve been a disaster in every universe, especially *and* including our own, but was complete lip service towards any vocal Stan Marino.

SONG #2 The English translation of a competent, but somewhat tepid electropop song that Senhit had released in Italian in September, mere days after the 2020 season had started. Good, but nothing too exciting. 

Senhit - Obsessed

And honestly, it seemed clear that FREAKY! would win from second one? It seemed like the clear follow-up to Serhat (sorta?), a perfect fan service song to keep the balding gays busy so they don’t pick up their phones and vote for boring shit such as Gjon’s Tears. However, when FREAKY! won it was revealed it had only won by a TINY margin over Obsessed anyway. What the FUCK was this year honestly and why does NONE of it make sense. 

San Marino 2020 & San Marino 2021

I mean... yes, the second semifinal was compiled of a series of oozing trashheaps and boring smug, and yes, both demographs would provide qualifiers and no, Senhit *never* would’ve been one of them, being stuck in the first half. 

It would seem as if “FREAKY!” was a worthy successor to “Say na na na”, but I don’t think that comparison really works. The only things those two songs have in common is their camp and their singer’s inability to sing (lol have I ever said a positive thing about Serhat, ever, in print? I should counteract that by saying something kind: Serhat is very good at... um... being a dentist. 🙂)

However, “Say na na na” also had a universally positive message, even if it adhered the tried-and-true “BELIEVE IN YOURSELF IF YOU DO THIS BANALE THING” cliché.” FREAKY!” literally is a hodgepodge of acid trippy menopausal nonsense, which I personal find more endearing, but Europe would swiftly whisk towards the rubbish bin for being bad and female. C’est la vie. 

Nada on 2021 yet and given how desperate and scarce with information San Marino are, I expect no news until the literal last minute. I personally wouldn’t be too surprised if they withdrew, but eh, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. As long as we have Samanta Demon to cover our trip-hop-trash needs, I couldn’t rly care less about San Marino. 

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I mean, even if you had *any* doubts how well Senhit would score in the category I named after her, let me recap

- San Marino recruited a random-ass-returnee nobody really asked for. - They initially gave her an Azeri hand-me-down trashpop song about a Macedonian-Greek pharaoh - Azerbaijan then took BACK said hand-me-down trashpop song and made it their entry - Which forced San Marino to flimsily put together a last-minute digital NF where you could decide which of these two HOPELESS songs would facilitate their NQ - The deadline of which was set *ON THE MORNING OF THE DELEGATION MEETING IN ROTTERDAM* (aka the literal submissions deadline) - The obvious winner *almost* lost the vote everyone expected them to win (again!) - and of course: the video clip, the website, the emails, the slogans, the CONDOMS. This is honestly what FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTORS! are made for. Happily take away the first (but not last) perfect score, queen. 

Score: 5 Senhits out of 5. 

#Eurovision #Eurivision Song Contest #Eurovision 2020 #San Marino #Senhit #FREAKY! #freaky

[allie1804-fan]

Connecticut (Chapter 6)

1 2 3  4  5  6  7  8  9 10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17 

Keanu smiled shyly up at Grace.  He saw a shadow of doubt in her eyes which set his heart racing and his mouth into overdrive.

“God!, it’s not just me is it? I mean do you feel….??”

“Shhhh” Grace said softly, placing her finger tips on his lips and leaning down for another kiss.

 “mmmm” Keanu moaned as their lips met once more.  He struggled to keep kissing her  through his smile of relief.

 “God you had me worried there!” he said pulling her down onto his lap.

 “I’m sorry…. It’s just……….. well, a big step for me to let someone in after all this time, know what I mean? To be honest I have thought about little else since the first night I saw you again!”

 “What? Whether to let me in or not?” Keanu asked, a smirk pulling at his lips.

 “Yeah, whether you wanted to come in, whether to let you in!” Grace replied, laughing too now.

 “Stop, stop, I gotta go out and work here – I can’t stand any more double entendres”

 “OK, OK so what now?”

 “Well, Keanu said, softly running his hand up and down her arm as he spoke “It’s only two days til the weekend so I thought I should just focus on work for those 2 days and then maybe we could spend Saturday together seeing some of the local area and have a nice dinner in the evening, somewhere quiet – I don’t know if there are any paps in town and the last thing I want is to subject you to that.”

 “That sound perfect” Grace said and gave him another quick kiss “Now, I’d better go and make Susan’s day and tell her she’s doing your make up from now on”

She sprang off his lap and was gone. Keanu breathed a sigh of relief and followed her over to the make up area where Susan was waiting.

Grace hardly stopped smiling all day but she forced herself to give Keanu space. Usually she would have watched the filming from close quarters, finding the alchemy of the process intriguing but this time she stayed out of the way as much as possible, not wanting to distract Keanu.  She knew how much it meant to him being part of such a talented cast and that he wanted to give of his best. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil it for him.

She replayed their first kiss in her head over and over. He’d been so gentle, quite tentative even and seeing his lack of confidence straight afterwards had just made him all the more endearing to Grace.  She knew what he’d seen in her eyes that had made him nervous. It was the doubt she’d been wrestling with all week. She knew she wanted him, body, heart and soul and yet her worries about what might or might not develop warred within her mind. What did he want from a relationship? Could she give him that, whatever it might be? What could he give – both to her and to Hannah? In the end though, her heart had won out when she’d seen clearly how much he wanted her and how vulnerable he was prepared to be to show her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They saw each other only fleetingly on the set before Saturday, Keanu thanking her for giving him the space he needed to work. They arranged to meet for breakfast at 9 in the hotel dining room and then head out to the Mianus River Park to walk along the trails and have a picnic.  Keanu had hired a car and arranged for a picnic hamper and rug from the hotel. Despite it being a beautiful May day and a Saturday so a busy day for the park, they managed to avoid the crowds and walked along the river trails untroubled by recognition, Keanu wearing his shades and a big floppy hat to help him keep his anonymity.  They were just like any other couple out to enjoy the countryside and wildlife.  

It was nearing 1 O’clock when they came across a pleasant shady spot by the river where they could have lunch. There were plenty of designated eating areas with tables attracting the crowds elsewhere so they were alone. Grace bent down to lay out the rug underneath the shade of a tree giving Keanu a view straight down her top to her breasts. It was too much for him and he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.

“I think that can wait don’t you?” he said in a low voice.

He pushed her gently so she was leaning against the tree, wrapped his arms firmly around her kissed her.  And what a kiss it was! She tried to keep her eyes open but lost the battle at just the feel of his lips beginning to nibble hers.  Her hands went up around his neck eliciting a low growl from his throat and then she felt his hot tongue push into her mouth for the first time, finding hers and circling it then sucking on it hard. Now it was her turn to moan.  Immediately she felt the wetness seeping out of her pussy - she felt like she might come right there and then without him even touching her beyond his lips on hers and his arms around her.  They necked like a pair of teenagers for ten minutes solid, pulling away eventually to draw breath.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve enjoyed kissing so much since I was 15! Keanu gasped laughing.

“Me neither! Come on let’s calm down and eat” Grace giggled looking directly at the prominent bulge in Keanu’s trousers. God bless him he actually blushed at that and set about getting the food, drinks, crockery and cutlery out of the basket.  The hotel had packed a delicious selection of salads, cold meets, cheeses and breads along with a fine white Chardonnay.

When they’d finished their meal, they lay and dozed for a while under the tree, Grace’s head leaning on Keanu’s chest. They headed slowly back along the trail to the car in the afternoon stopping here and there to watch the wildlife and take a few pictures.  Back at the hotel they each went to their rooms to freshen up ready for dinner.  Keanu had booked a table at an Italian place called “Il Falco”.  It had good reviews and he found the name funny having played the character Shane Falco in his movie “The Replacements”. He wondered if Grace would catch the reference.

Keanu stopped to pick Grace up from her room on the way down. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

“Well hello there pretty lady” he murmured.

Grace blushed.  

“You don’t look so bad yourself there mister” she said putting on a mock southern accent.

Grace was wearing a knee length, sleeveless chiffon dress with a floral print on a pale turquoise background.  It was v necked, front and back with a dropped waistline on the right hand side which then had a ruffled cascade of fabric dropping down to the hemline which was soft and wavy.  It suited her fair colouring perfectly.  Her hair fell down in loose waves now rather than up in her usual pony tail showing off the many different shades of blonde within it.

Keanu was clean-shaven and wearing a dark suit coupled with a sky blue shirt which seemed to light up his face.

Keanu kissed her on the cheek, not wanting to spoil her make up before dinner, and they headed down to the hotel lobby.  They bumped into Susan on their way out who said “hi” whilst at the same time giving Grace the evil eye.  She chuckled.

“I don’t think she thinks she got the best end of the deal now somehow!”

She looked up at Keanu to find him blushing once again

“You’re so cute when you do that?”

“What?”

“Blush at the slightest compliment!”

He squeezed her hand tightly and they headed out to take the short walk to the restaurant..  Grace burst out laughing when she saw the sign.

“What’s so funny?” – Keanu’s eyes danced.

“What do you think Mr Shaaaane Falco?”

“Oh so you saw that one too huh?”

“Oh yes, many times, it was the one of the films that Jim really enjoyed as well as me”

Keanu gave her hand a squeeze and opened the door.  They were seated in the quietest corner of the restaurant at his request and Keanu crossed his fingers that none of the other diners would bother them.

The meal was delicious and they talked and laughed their way through the evening, both getting a little drunk on the wine.  Only one couple bothered Keanu for an autograph and they did that through the waiters so he willingly obliged including posing for a picture.

At the end of the night, they walked back to the hotel and rode up to Grace’s room.

“Can I come in to say good night – I don’t want to kiss you out here in the hall if that’s OK with you!”

They went in and Keanu quickly scooped her into his arms for a passionate kiss.

“I had a really lovely time today, thank you for your company Grace”

“Me too, can I see you again tomorrow ?” she added wanting to signal to Keanu that she wasn’t ready to spend the night with him just yet.

“You bet - I’ll call when I’m up – I think I can guarantee you’ll be awake before me!”

He pulled her in for another kiss, moaning into her mouth as she caressed his neck.

“OK, stop stop, you’re killing me when you do that!”

Grace laughed

“You’re so easy!”

“Guilty as charged! Keanu sucked in a breath “Ok. I’m going now, sleep tight” He kissed her forehead and headed out the door.

Grace leaned against the door as it closed. She half regretted not asking him to stay the night especially as she was feeling so aroused herself now, but she knew it was the right thing to do to wait.  She imagined he’d be well worth waiting for.

1 2 3  4  5  6  7  8  9 10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu #keanu reeves #romance #fluff #friends to lovers