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yayakoishii · 8 months

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Want | Sanji x Chubby! Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Chubby! Reader

WC: 5.5k

Genre: Fluff, slight Angst

Warnings: Sexual harrasment, derogatory terms for chubby people, mentions of blood, insecurities that lead to a bit of light self derogation (Please remember you're absolutely beautiful as you are <3)

A/n: The response on Hunger is insane. Over 700 likes?! I didn't expect much beyond a few 10-20 likes, thank you for all the love 😭 This is another self indulgent fic, more personal to me because I'm chubby myself so... I'm not super proud of the pacing tbh, but it's still pretty good, in my (biased) opinion, haha. I hope you enjoy it!!! ♡

also available on ao3!

When you joined the Straw Hat crew, you didn't expect to fall in love with the blonde chef.

Actually, when you joined them, you weren't in the mindset to think about love and silly crushes. Your island had been destroyed by the Marines for a 'good cause' and despite the Straw Hats' best attempt, you were the only remaining survivor. Luffy kindly offered you a place on his crew, and you joined as an assistant to Chopper, slowly learning from him.

The first few weeks after you joined were tough for you, who had never travelled outside of your island. It took time to get used to the environmental changes along with the emotional grief of losing all your loved ones. The crew tried their best to cheer you up in their own ways, and you would forever be grateful for every one of them for at least trying, even if their methods weren't the most effective for you. It was the thought and the sentiment behind it that counted.

But what did work for you was… food. Ever since you were a child, you had loved food and it was the way you connected to life. Though you were not the greatest cook out there, you were capable of making things that were edible and quite good at times. On the ship though, you never had to cook, because Sanji would always do all the cooking. Whenever you offered to help, to take your mind off the pain you were feeling, he would kindly decline, saying that he would make you whatever you wanted.

But he couldn't. The dishes from your island were not recipes known quite to the rest of the world. Hell, even you didn't know all of them, save for some of your favourite foods that you had learnt from your mother. So you snuck in after dinner and made a dish from your hometown. It wasn't the best food you ever cooked, but it still meant something to you, because you were reminded of home.

You wrote down all the recipes you knew into a book, and kept it close. Whenever you missed your home, you would sneak into the kitchen at night and make yourself something with your wonky cooking skills that made the dish taste different every time. Still, the familiarity was enough to comfort you and let you wallow in the grief at the same time.

Until one day, you couldn't find your book.

"Nami?" You called unsurely to the navigator, who was lying on the deck under shade next to Robin. Behind them, Sanji was serving drinks. The three looked at you in question and suddenly under the scrutiny, your confidence faltered. "Um, uh.. d- did you see a journal somewhere? I can't find mine…"

"The brown one?" She asked, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. You nodded frantically, hoping she knew. "I don't think I did. Did you check under your bed?"

"I did," you whispered, feeling the sadness wash over you again. It's not like you didn't still remember the recipes, but your memory wasn't the best. Without the book, it would be hard to remember them all.

"Don't worry, we'll find it," Nami got up and reassured you, looking concerned. "Sanji. Robin."

The two of them nodded along and then the four of you were searching for it everywhere, until Sanji had to excuse himself apologetically because he had to go cook lunch. You could only nod, trying not to get down in the dumps again over a book, but it felt a little hopeless. Until you heard Sanji shout from the kitchen. The three of you ran over to find him scolding Luffy, your journal in his hand.

"I just wanted to see what was in it!" Luffy pouted, his rubbery hands swinging around to try and get it back.

"That's an invasion of privacy, Luffy!" Sanji looked angry, but you were too relieved about the fact that you had found the book to get upset with Luffy.

"It's okay," you said, reaching forward to get the book. "It's just… recipes, Luffy. From my hometown."

There was silence in the kitchen for a few seconds and Luffy's face dropped into a serious look.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I thought… If I knew how to help you, you'd be happier."

It made you laugh softly, your heart warm at his kind intentions.

"Thank you, Captain," you smiled at him, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "I am happy here. I just… miss my home, sometimes."

He wrapped you into a hug and Nami ruffled your hair a little. You smiled under the attention, holding the book close. Sanji for once was quiet, just staring at the book thoughtfully, though you didn't notice it then.

A few days after that event, Sanji called you to the kitchen before lunchtime. Curiously, you followed him to find… a plate of your favourite dish from your hometown. It was plated beautifully, making it look fancy and yet it still had that homey feeling to it. Sanji didn't say a word, just held out the chair for you to sit. You sat down in a daze, too focused on the smell of it lingering in the room.

It smelled like home.

And when you tasted it, you burst into tears. Because it tasted like home. It tasted exactly like your mom's. All the tears you had held back to not worry the crew were now spilling out without any end but you didn't care. Here, where only Sanji could see you, you let it all out. He didn't say anything, just placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed to let you know he's there for you. You turned around to face him, but the tears made it all blurry. Knocking your head against his stomach, you cried harder.

Sanji just held your head, carding fingers through your hair in comfort, offering you a handkerchief. That, you realised later, was the moment your feelings for Sanji began.

✿

After that day, you became a lot happier. Somehow, without words, just eating the food that Sanji made was enough to heal your broken heart bit by bit. Sometimes, he made extra because Luffy was curious and wanted to taste it too; and then the whole crew wanted it so Sanji made a few of your dishes for dinner. In that moment, surrounded by the smell of home, around your new family, your heart finally started healing.

You started noticing Sanji everywhere after you got used to life on the Thousand Sunny. From the small things he does, to the loud expressions of love he made, everything about him seemed wonderful and warm to you. Because you knew that beneath his overt affections for all the ladies, he was an infinitely kind, caring and observant person. How were you supposed to not fall for him, when he went above and beyond for you?

And yet, for all his admissions of love, you never believed that he could truly like you back like you felt for him. You were after all, not the prettiest girl around and you knew that. You were not slim like Nami or Robin, and it's not like you absolutely hated your soft and squishy body. But you wondered if Sanji would like you even though you weren't pretty.

All that self consciousness went out the window every time you were in his presence. He never made you feel less, or ugly– in fact, the way he spoke to you always left you a blushing mess. He made you feel special, and in the moment, it would be enough. Until you saw him fawning over Nami or Robin, and then the sneaky voice in your brain would whisper quiet thoughts comparing you to them. You had no chance with him, and you knew that.

And that was fine. You could live with that, couldn't you? You had to, because wanting more than you should never ended well. All it would leave behind is rejection, hurt and awkwardness. So you pressed down the feelings and acted as normally as you could.

The moment you realised that you loved Sanji was probably a memory you would never forget. Although it was unforgettable for you, it probably wasn't particularly that unique to others. That didn't matter to you because it was a memory you cherished ultimately.

It happened when the ship docked on a peaceful little island. Everyone else was going out to enjoy their time, and you wanted to spend that time with Sanji. So, casually, you made your request.

"Sanji?" Your timid utterance of his name got an instant reaction from the chef, who straightened up and looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

"Yes, (y/n)-chan?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Um, you're gonna go grocery shopping, right?" You had seen Nami complaining while handing him the money for the shopping.

"That's right," he leaned closer, almost too close but not quite into your personal bubble. Still, the proximity was enough for you to smell the mild smell of his perfume that left you a little weak in the knees. "Did you want me to get something for you, sweetheart?"

"I just," you hesitated, suddenly scared that he might realise your feelings and get disgusted. No, Sanji wasn't like that, you had to remind yourself. He would never treat you unkindly, even if he knew your feelings. "I heard you always do it alone. I thought you might enjoy some company?"

The hearts in Sanji's eyes disappeared as he stared at you like you were speaking gibberish for a few seconds. Under the intensity of that stare, you fidgeted and waited for his response.

"You're too kind, (y/n)-chan!" He finally cried, holding up your hands in his own bigger and colder ones. You flushed at the action, stammering out an actual gibberish response this time before you were whisked away by the blonde chef to town.

It felt all too much like a date to you, when you walked next to him. Sanji somehow made grocery shopping fun, or maybe that was just because of how much you liked him that anything with him was enjoyable? It didn't matter, you decided, because whichever it was, you couldn't deny that Sanji was equivalent to the sun on a cold day.

He enthusiastically showed you around, as if you were a tourist and he were a guide (when in fact, it was the first time in this town for both of you) causing you to giggle. Whenever you stopped to buy things, he would humour your curious questions on how to pick which vegetable and what cuts of which meat are the best. It felt awfully like a domestic date, one that made you smile when you imagined doing this with Sanji years down the line every week.

"And that's the last of it!" Sanji said happily, picking up the last bag. He was holding all the bags since the start, despite your insistence and now you were anxious, seeing him hold so many bags in his hands.

"Sanji, let me hold a few," you tried again, hands reaching out to take some of them. But Sanji just turned around so you couldn't reach the bags and grinned down at you.

"Nonsense, how could I let such a delicate lady hold such heavy bags?" His words made you flush in embarrassment. You were not delicate in any sense; surely, Sanji knew that too. And in spite of all his sincerity, the word just felt like it was mocking you.

"I'm… not…," you struggled to say, not wanting to argue but unable to keep it in either. With your chubby frame, no one had ever considered you as delicate.

"Let me do this for you, my love," Sanji's voice was soft and infinitely gentle, as if he was indeed holding something fragile in his hands. "I wouldn't feel good letting you carry anything when I'm more than capable."

"But Sanji!" you lightly whined, wringing your hands. "I don't feel good letting you carry all the burden either! Come on, just a few bags?"

Before Sanji could respond, you heard a scared squeak. Your brows furrowed and you looked around the marketplace, finding a man cornering a girl a few feet behind Sanji. She seemed uncomfortable and he was all in her personal space, saying something in a rough, sleazy voice that gave you shivers.

You were not a fighter, but the instinct to protect her overtook the rational part of your brain and you crossed the distance to where they were. Pushing him back, you stood in front of the girl to block her from him.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" You said coldly. "Back off."

The man took an involuntary step back until his eyes fell on you. He reeked of alcohol and smoke and you felt like puking from the putrid stench coming off him but you held it together, trying to come off as more confident than you felt. His eyes roamed over your body shamelessly, and you felt dirty and uncomfortable from the action.

"Don't get in our business, fatty," he grinned, the smell of alcohol doubling the moment he opened his mouth. "Are you jealous that no one will ever give you the attention she's getting?"

The words stabbed you in the gut, even though you knew rationally that you were better off without the bad attention. That was the one perk of being conventionally average in looks– no one really looked at you, in good ways or bad. Or maybe you had just been lucky so far. But hearing him call you that, saying those words, even from someone like him, it hurt a small part of you. Before you could respond, a leg in black slacks came up and kicked the man down with such a force that everybody around paused, shocked by the sudden action.

Even you stepped back automatically, gasping when you saw that it was Sanji, still balancing all the bags perfectly while he had roundhouse kicked the man into the ground with so much force that you could see his teeth had become bloody and he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"(Y/n)-chan doesn't need the attention of sewer rats like you," he said calmly, straightening back into position smoothly. "Her beauty only deserves the best of the best."

The sight of Sanji saying that with a calm face, his hair slightly tousled, his hands balancing the bags and his leg muscles rippling under the slacks – that image was imprinted in your heart and brain for the rest of your life. The words sent you into a shock, but when they finally processed, you couldn't deny the overwhelming realisation that crashed into you.

You love Sanji.

It wasn't just a silly crush, or something that could go away if you gave it time. The chef had unknowingly carved himself a place into your heart. He was taking over it, chamber by chamber.

"Sanji…" The word came out as a whisper, inaudible under the din of the market as people were talking about what was going on. You snapped out of it when you felt the girl behind you shuffle and you immediately squashed your thoughts down to examine them later. You turned around and asked her, "Are you okay?"

She looked very alarmed and upset, but she still shot you a grateful smile as she murmured, "Yes, thanks to you two."

"He didn't hurt you?" You asked, hands hovering over her as you looked to ensure if she was safe. A peek of crimson caught your eye when she raised her hand to rub her face. Her elbows had scraped against the rough brick wall in his tousling. "You have some scratches!"

"Oh," she turned her arms to look at the wounds, now feeling the burn after the adrenaline and fear response was receding.

"Come on, I'll treat it for you," you offered, opening your sling bag which had some emergency first aid. You usually carried it around for the members when you were off the ship, knowing that they were all too reckless to give a second thought to any wounds.

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't trouble you more!" She said, mortified but you gently shook your head, offering her a hand.

"It's no trouble," you reassured her. It took a little bit of convincing but she eventually calmed down and let you clean up the wound before you parted. Finally, you allowed yourself to look at Sanji, who immediately schooled his features so you wouldn't see the warm adoring look he was giving you the whole time. "Sanji… Are you okay too? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, sweetheart?" He smiled teasingly, but you felt the need to defend yourself.

"I know you are strong," you insisted, worrying your lower lip as you tried to look him straight in the eyes but kept getting flustered. "But even strong people get wounds. Just because they are strong, doesn't mean that they don't feel the pain. So tell me honestly, Sanji. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"No," he promised. "But if you're that worried, I'll let you check me all out back on the ship."

He ended that with a wink, and this time, you couldn't hold back the flush threatening to overtake your face again. Sanji couldn't help making the mood light again, but he had no idea of the effect his words had on you.

"Stupid," you weakly pawed at his arm, walking away before he could say anything. The blonde chef just laughed and followed you, face once again soft and fond as he watched you.

✿

Sanji may have been one of the only people onboard who was oblivious to your feelings, because a few of them did figure it out after watching the way you interacted with him. The first ones to realise were Nami and Robin, who called you out on it when the three of you were lying under the shade on the sunny deck.

"Really?" Nami had scrunched her nose, eyes critically analysing Sanji as he walked (danced, really) back to the kitchens after serving drinks to the three of you.

"Really what?" You asked, too busy sipping the cool drink to notice that she had noticed the way you had warmly thanked Sanji and given him a bright smile.

"Sanji?" Nami gave you a pointed look. The name made you freeze, and you tried to play it off.

"What about him?"

"Oh, come on!" Nami threw the slice of lemon that was on her drink. You caught it before it could fall on your shirt and muttered an indignant 'hey!' that the navigator ignored. "You like him, don't you?"

The words were enough to make you hide your face in embarrassment. Robin was smiling knowingly from the other side of Nami and you felt exposed, like they had both just turned you inside out.

"I do," you whispered after the few minutes of silent mortification that Nami had spent in self satisfaction.

"Why that loser though?" She said without any real bite. You knew she wasn't actually demeaning him; it was affectionate, in the way one would talk about their sibling's lovelife.

"Because!" You whispered, eyes running everywhere to check if no one else was around to hear you. "Have you looked at him? He's literally so pretty! He is kind, caring, and so, so thoughtful and generous. Without expecting anything in return, he is always giving and giving and he makes my stomach do silly things. He has curly eyebrows, Nami! I didn't think those could look good on anyone. Hell, I know I would look ugly with them, but he makes it work! It suits him, and he's so beautiful and I'm just–"

You collapsed onto your chair, your wet fingers from the condensation on the drink glass finding purchase in the dips of your face to hide it. Just talking about him was enough to get your heart beating fast, and the mortification of what you had just spilled to the two girls made you want the ground to swallow you already.

"You really like him," Robin's soft observation made you relax. She wasn't teasing you. You turned to look at her and caught the comforting smile she was sending your way.

"I was going to say you could do better," Nami turned to face you, swinging her feet around to your side, "but after hearing all that, I think… You two are perfect for each other. Despite all his antics, he has a good heart. And you'll be good for him, because you see him as he is."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the small flower of hope blossoming in your chest.

"Really," Nami smiled, a rare genuine smile that was usually reserved for late night talks and reassurances in down times.

"You don't think…." You trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of your top, "he won't… find me good enough?"

"Are you crazy?" Nami snorted, picking up her drink. The melted ice had made the level go up so much that it was threatening to spill any moment. "You're better than anything he could dream of. I told you, didn't I? You would be good for him. Having someone like you in his life to ground him, I think there's nothing better than that. You're one of the sweetest people I have ever met. If anyone here isn't good enough, it's him."

"Hey now," you frowned, ready to defend Sanji but hearing his voice stopped you.

"Who isn't good enough for (y/n)-chan?" His face was stuck in a weird smile, like he was forcing it. He carefully placed the plate of pastries he had brought as he continued casually despite the silence, "I don't know who we are talking about but Nami-chan is right. No one is good enough for our lovely (y/n)-chan."

"Oh, look at that!" You hurriedly switched the topic, looking at the plate he had brought. The tiny pastries were adorable and colourful, looking so delicious that it would have made your mouth water if you weren't distracted at the moment. "This looks so good, Sanji. Seriously, if you keep feeding me like this, my weight will keep increasing!"

The last line became a teasing complaint, but you didn't expect Sanji to come to the side of your chair and lean down to where you were tilted. The proximity caused your eyes to widen, the blood thundering in your ears as he carefully tucked in a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, face so soft and warm that it make your insides feel like they were vibrating.

"All the more for me to love, so I would keep winning, wouldn't I, sweetheart?"

You choked, and the need to get away from him before you did something wild like grab him and kiss him got so much that your knee accidentally shot up and into Sanji's back, pushing him forward. The chef's eyes widened at the sudden attack, but he managed to not collapse on you by quickly holding onto the sides of the chair but now you were trapped in between his arms on top of the close proximity.

It made you so weak in the knees, and there was something hot and warm curling in your gut as you stammered gibberish, feeling like you were about to faint because Sanji's chest was practically touching yours and it was all too much.

"SORRY!" He hurriedly backed off the moment he got his bearings, and for the first time since you had come onboard, you saw him have a genuinely heavily flushed face. There was a little blood starting to leak from one of his nostrils and somehow, it helped you calm down. He was just as affected as you were. The idea was enough to lessen your embarrassment by a little.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Sanji," you said remorsefully, hiding your face completely in your hands this time. "I kicked you!"

"It wasn't on purpose," he said, right hand coming up to hide the blush on his own face. "I'm sorry for… for making you uncomfortable, (y/n)-chan!"

Uncomfortable? Did Sanji have any clue just how comfortable you actually felt? The problem wasn't that you were uncomfortable in the proximity; it was that you were too comfortable, to the point that you never wanted to leave. But that would be a dead giveaway of your feelings, right?

"Okay, this is just painful to watch now," Nami sighed, jolting the two of you. You had nearly forgotten that she and Robin were right there, and they had seen everything. She looked at you unhappily, mouth set in a tight line. "How about you two get a room and make out there?"

"Nami!" You cried out. She really just gave away your crush like that?!

"Just be grateful I'm not demanding money to make up for what I just had to witness," she sniffed haughtily, swinging her legs back onto the chair and pulling down her sunglasses. "Seriously, you two, go talk shit out. Or else, knowing you, you will just be awkward around each other and that's gonna be even more painful to watch."

She wasn't totally wrong. You were planning to avoid him, possibly by jumping off the Sunny and drowning to death since you didn't know how to swim. But that wasn't really a solution and even you could admit that.

"W- What's there to talk-?" Sanji seemed a little scared, wide eyes glancing between the three of you. Nami ignored him, and you were too flustered to look him in the eyes. Nami's suggestion was essentially for you to come clean, wasn't it? But that was easier said than done. The fear of rejection and the eventual awkwardness was gripping your insides in a chokehold, and you couldn't move your feet even if you tried.

"Sanji," Robin said calmly. "Pick up (y/n) and go to the kitchen."

"Huh?" You were startled at her words. Pick you up?! No way! "No, no way, I'm too… I'm too heavy, there's no need for that!" Even as you said that, you couldn't actually bring yourself to move.

"I don't really get it," Sanji admitted, looking between the three of you as he spoke, "but I can do that. (Y/n)-chan?"

"No, Sanji–" the protests died down the moment he bent down and picked you up like you weighed nothing. Even as he walked you across the deck, you couldn't help but think that it was kind of hot just how easily he picked you up. "Sanji…"

He didn't look at you until you were in the kitchen and the door was closed behind the two of you. He walked over to the table and then carefully placed you on it, as if you were a teacup made of fine china teetering with tea. Finally, he let his clear blue eyes stare down at you, the expression on his face more vulnerable and exposed than you had ever seen on him.

"Sanji?"

"I know I made you uncomfortable," he said quietly, backing away. His hands came up to rub away the blood but it only made it spread around and you winced at seeing that. You never wanted to see any blood on Sanji, if you could help it. "I touched your… you. It wasn't my intention, I swear! I just, I wanted, I–"

He abruptly shut up, looking frustrated with himself.

"Sanji."

He didn't look up, fists clenching at his side the moment you said his name.

"Come here, Sanji," you whispered, holding out your hands to beckon him closer. His eyes flickered over your face, as if trying to gauge out what you were feeling, even as he followed through your request without a second thought. You pulled out the handkerchief he had given you long back, and wiped away the blood over his upper lip and cheeks carefully before you picked up his hand. The thumb was bloody too, so you gently held the limb in one of your hands and wiped it with the other. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Sanji."

He stayed quiet as you continued to wipe it until it was all gone.

"Didn't I?" He said the moment you were done.

"No," you said, looking up at him. You didn't let go of the hand, though you dropped the handkerchief beside you. Somehow, holding his hand seemed to give you the courage to make the admission Nami had told you to. "I… Sanji, I like you. A lot more than I ever thought it was possible to feel towards someone. I like you so much that it physically hurts when I see you flirting with other women. I like you so much that my heart feels warm whenever you are around, and I feel so safe in your arms that I never want to leave. I like it when you are close to me. But I know that you don't like me like that, so whenever you get so close, and I can't help but want you so much, it's painful for me. I never want to let you go."

Sanji's eyes darkened with every word you spoke, a gradual change that you didn't notice at first because you were all in over your head. His hands hovered around your waist as you finished.

"Who told you?" His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat the moment he realised how desperate he sounded.

"Told me what?" You asked timidly, looking down at your lap.

"That I don't like you?" Sanji's voice was a broken whisper like yours had been. "I have never heard anything more untrue than that. All this time, I wanted you but I kept my feelings to myself. Because you deserve so much, so much more than I am, so much more than I can give. I wanted and I wanted and I felt so greedy, wanting more and more of you, more than you would let me have– I wanted anything you were ready to give, and I also wanted everything you have to give. I thought you wouldn't want someone like me, when there are so many better options around for you–"

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. All his words were making you delirious; this had to be some wild dream you had conjured up. It didn't feel real. None of it did. "I had better options around? Sanji, I was so sure you would never look twice at me! I never felt like I was pretty enough, or good enough to get your attention and you're telling me… I had better options? That's so–"

You kept laughing, body shaking from the weight of the laughter. Sanji stared at you, unsure hands still hovering around you. His fingers twitched from holding back the urge to pull you into him.

"You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen," he mumbled. "Not good enough to get my attention? Darling, you have had all of my attention ever since I met you. No other woman could compare to you from the moment you made your place in my heart known."

"Did I really have all your attention?" You asked, letting your insecurities bubble up. Now that you were both being honest, it was better to get it all out of the way, right? "Even when you looked at the other women…"

"I never looked at them the way I did you," his words were sincere, and in that moment, they were enough. You looked up at him, and your body broke into shivers the moment you realised the heat in his eyes as he stared down at you; like you were some unique dish he was finally getting the chance to eat after years of craving it.

"I didn't want the other options, Sanji," you whispered, the volume enough for the proximity you were in. "The only one I ever wanted was you."

You held his collars and pulled him in, and it was like he finally snapped, now that he had permission. His hands immediately grasped at your sides, gently holding the soft flesh there as he kissed you. And now it was your time to give and give, while he took from you like your lips were spilling with ambrosia and he was determined to get every drop. His warm breath fanned over your lips and the goosebumps on your skin rose again, your fingers tightening around the collars of his shirt.

When he let your lips go, he was greeted with the sight of your flushed and pleasantly buzzed expression, like you were drunk on him. Seeing you like that, because of him, it was enough to get him groaning.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaving feather light kisses all over your face. "So gorgeous. All for me. All… for me to have?"

"Yeah," you whispered, looking up at him and seeing the devastated yet over-the-moon expression on Sanji's face. Even without words, he could always just cleave into your heart and press himself within its walls like they were made to fit him, and only him. "You can be greedy. Take all you want. I'm all yours."

°•❀•°

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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Hello??! Sub!Leon??? Absolutely sign me the fuck up. Ok ok so. Hear me out.

First time, the absolute first time Leon has a prostate orgasm, he fucking cries. Either pegging, dick or fingering, the moment he feels that specific part inside of him get touched, he sees fucking stars.

This dude goes full hentai shit. His eyes roll back, he’s drooling, his tongue is hanging out, he’s babbling uselessly. His brain literally can’t comprehend how good he feels because of it!

I’d imagine that Leon also gets vocal. More vocal than ever. Normally he’s a quiet guy. Maybe some moaning and grunts but when your rubbing his prostate? Yea he’s speaking another language. Dude is Italian American, imagine if he starts speaking fucking Italian. HE doesn’t even understand what he’s saying, he’s just repeating words he heard from his parents growing up.

His voice is also an octave higher. He tries to cover his mouth at first, but it’s useless. He becomes a crying, moaning, babbling bitch.

I’d also imagine Leon’s thighs shake when he cums. Oh and he cums HARD. He actually forgets how to breathe for a bit because of the orgasm slamming into him.

And afterwords? Woah mama. He’s beautiful, breathing heavily, tears and drool marking his pretty face. Just…Mwuah~ <3

MDNI/18+. NSFW

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for the message, I’ll be glad to sign you up to the Sub! Leon fan club. Yes I’m totally listening, putting my ear real close to you right now.

I think the first time he cums like that, it will probably change his whole life and literally give his brain a hard reset. Like sure, he’s had good orgasms before, but never something that made black spots come into his vision, or something that made his legs shake the way they’re currently doing on the mattress. He never thought that sex could feel so good, and experiencing that much relief would genuinely be something that he’ll continue to ask for in the safety of another person who can provide that for him.

The way his mind just fizzles out when it happens, how there isn’t a single thought that goes through his head. It takes him off guard, how it’s just static between his ears and he’s stuck in a daze. For the first time in his life he’s not thinking about his trauma, about missions, about anything. His head is just empty and he loves it, and he finds himself someplace far away and wants to stay there for a while longer. To me, Leon is a sentimental guy, he’d be the type to cry during sex cause he’s clingy and affectionate. But when he’s the one on the receiving end, it makes him feel safe, and having someone who helps to genuinely make him feel good and focuses on his pleasure, he’ll be more inclined to cry from the release of it.

Poor baby is so pent up that the moment he cums he can feel his whole body shake from it. It starts from his thighs which nearly cramp from how hard they flex, and a chill runs down from his calves and to the balls of his feet. His toes will curl a little bit and his fingers will dig into the bed sheets, and he swears he feels his ears ringing from the force of it. He just starts mumbling under his breath, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal and is saying things like I love you in such a whiney voice that it doesn’t even sound like him. He’s babbling and saying anything that comes to mind as any logic just leaves him permanently. Tears down his face, drool running out of his mouth, face all red, he’s a damn mess but he’s your pretty mess. He’s so hypersensitive that any little movement or touch makes him jolt the slightest bit, and it’s almost embarrassing but he doesn’t have the brain power to give a fuck considering how good he feels.

You’d probably have to spend some time bringing him back to reality, praising him and kissing him over his body gently to calm him down. Leon would be so clingy afterwards, just wants to put his head on your chest and let you run your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear that will ease him to sleep in 3 minutes flat. It’ll be the best he’s slept in a while too, getting a full 8 hours at least, just feeling warm and satisfied. And when you look down at him, there’s a small smile on his face as he sleeps, like he’s dreaming of something good and not having a nightmare, kissing his forehead as he dozes off with his limbs wrapped around you. You fuck him good and you baby him after, that’s what he likes and what he craves, and of course, you’re more than happy to provide.

Also, the fact that you said he’d start speaking Italian was so fucking funny, it made me chuckle. Very real. 😭

#ovaryacted asks #sub leon kennedy #sub leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #GET THE STRAP #no but this is about to be my trademark lmfao #I love thinking and talking about this tho #Leon deserves to be fucked good and babied after #you ate this up anon #like wow your brain is so big

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incognit0slut · 3 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

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mysteryshoptls · 7 days

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SR Azul Ashengrotto - Luxe Couture Vignette

"Please come this way"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: …Now, now, don't say that!

Azul: I would be honored if you would come by the Mostro Lounge to come see my photo with Eric-san.

Vil: I'm staggered. You would not only use my father, but also myself to increase your reputation?

Grim: Oh hey, if it ain't Vil and Azul. What're you guys talkin' about?

Azul: We just happened to come across each other over here, so we were merely chatting about plans once we return to campus. Have the two of you been shopping?

1. I bought some clothes for myself.

Azul: You bought clothing at the Crystal Galleria? You must be a better shopper than I thought.

2. I bought some gifts for everyone back home.

Azul: A wonderful sentiment. Keeping people in your debt is very valuable.

Azul: I myself just finished purchasing some cosmetics. After this, I plan on perusing some tableware.

Grim: Huh, tableware? Don't really matter what gets used, to me.

Grim: The food 'n drinks're waaay more important than the plates 'n cups.

Azul: I fully believed that would be your response, Grim-san.

Vil: I absolutely adore that sort of dedication. The more opulent the tableware, the more sophisticated the mealtime becomes.

Vil: Weren't the plates, cups, and cutlery at the restaurant we dined at yesterday utterly sublime?

Grim: I don't remember a thing about 'em.

Vil: ...Right, I was a fool for even asking that in the first place.

Azul: The golden rimmed white porcelain plates at that restaurant was indeed spectacular.

Azul: Decorated in both matte and glossy gold, these surely were high-quality wares. A rare sight, indeed.

Vil: Well, now. You're well informed, Azul.

Vil: It may be interesting to shop for tableware with someone who actually knows a thing or two. I'll join you.

Azul: Why, certainly. Would you like to join us, [Yuu]-san?

1. I'd like to. 2. I'm definitely interested.

Grim: 'Kay, then I'll tag along too, then. But anyway, do they even sell stuff like that here?

Vil: Of course. Fine ceramic wares are yet another major product of the Fairest City. There are also many antique shops.

Grim: Uh-huh. So it's not just make-up 'n clothes 'n food, huh.

Azul: It is said that there were 3 primary factors that led to the development of those fine ceramic wares in the Fairest City.

Azul: The first factor was due to the nearby mines.

Azul: The neighboring mountain range had an abundance of high-quality clay, for which artisans from all over began to come for.

Azul: The second factor is the development of pharmaceuticals thanks to knowledge passed down from the Fairest Queen.

Vil: That pharmaceutical science was then used to develop a diverse array of pigments, and that allowed for the field of colors to become what it is today.

Azul: Indeed. It's just as you say.

Azul: And the final factor is the sense of beauty that every Fairest Queen-loving inhabitant of the Fairest City carries.

Azul: Thus, the potters and sculptors who were raised with a heightened awareness of beauty themselves brought their ceramics to an entirely new level when it comes to works of art.

Vil: Only the residents of the Fairest City would find ways to elevate beauty in fields other than fashion and makeup.

Azul: We've arrived. I hear this shop carries a rather large collection of antique tableware for sale.

Vil: Have you already done prior research?

Azul: Yes, indeed. I must admit I have been looking forward to purchasing new tableware.

Grim: Woah! There's a ton of sparkly dishes and stuff!

Vil: What sort of tableware are you planning on purchasing, Azul?

Azul: I believe I'd like to find teacups, saucers, and a matching teapot.

1. What about this golden tea set?

Grim: Yeah! The shiny gold color is so cool! Azul: I see they allowed gold to oxidize and used that to create a pattern for the design. I must admit it is extravagant and definitely draws an eye. Vil: An opulent design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

2. Look at this pink tea set!

Azul: I see it is a set of teacups with a frill molding. The flower pattern along the rim is so wonderfully subtle. Vil: A rather cute design. However, I feel it may not suit the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: Fufu, I agree completely. Perhaps now we can look at the wares that had caught my eye?

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Azul: This is the one I am looking to purchase here.

Grim: This one, huh? It's just a borin' looking white cup with a tiny bit of blue stuff on it.

Azul: That dainty and subtle touch is intended to be its charm point… It seems you fail to comprehend that, Grim-san.

Azul: This bright white porcelain shows not a hint of translucency… Does it not seem to be the pinnacle of class?

Vil: It certainly does have a refined beauty about it.

Azul: The elegant design carved out of the rim of the teacup is called a "scalloped rim."

Azul: And consider this wave-like handle curled along the side… Even the minute details are so stunning.

Grim: A handle? What, you gonna steer somethin' with this cup, then?

Vil: Obviously the handle is where you hold the cup.

Vil: But, Azul. These cups and teapot are a vintage set.

Vil: Is there any need for you to use such an extravagant tea set in a café that caters to students?

Azul: Indeed. I consider this a necessary investment.

Azul: Just because my customers are students does not mean that I intend on compromising my standards.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[camera shutters clicking and screaming]

Fans: KYAAAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAAA!!!

Reporter: If I can run an article on Vil Schoenheit, then there's no doubt that both magazine sales and website traffic are gonna go through the roof!

Reporter: Alright, now I just gotta hop this barrier so I can cover Vil Schoenheit up close…

[Grrk…]

Azul: Oh, my, it is dangerous to attempt to climb the barrier. Please take all photographs from the designated area.

Reporter: You little brat, don't get in my way! [Azul starts pushing] Urgh, what strength! He's pushing the whole barrier back towards me…!

Azul: If those instructions cannot be followed properly, I may have to take appropriate countermeasures…

Azul: For example, I may be inclined to ring up your place of employment and file a complaint at the highest levels.

Reporter: Okay, fine, just get out of my way, then! I can't even take a picture with you like this!

Azul: How wonderful that we've reached an understanding. Vil-san, please come this way.

Vil: Thank you… You were awfully efficient in handling that.

Azul: When you've made as many deals as I have, it's not uncommon to encounter troubled clients in need of extra firm handling.

Azul: I'm just glad I was able to put the mediation skills I've accumulated to good use.

Vil: Not only are you handling the press well… But you are doing a fantastic job as my escort.

Azul: Well, it also is not uncommon for me to host prospective business contacts personally, either.

Azul: Ah, we are almost at the staircase.

Azul: Right this way. If you wish, my hand is yours to take.

Vil: Well, then. I shall accept it.

―A few days later

[Mostro Lounge]

Octavinelle Student: Welcome!

Azul: Oh my… If it isn't Vil-san! You've come, as promised! I'm so elated.

Vil: Excuse you. I don't recall ever promising you anything. However…

Vil: I was merely thinking back to how you handled yourself previously. I do expect exceptional service today as well.

Vil: Business seems to be going well… Are you using that tea set you purchased back then?

Azul: I am. Right now… The guests at that table are enjoying the tea served in it.

Deuce/Epel: AHAHAHA!

Vil: …There is no way those two even remotely understand the worth of those cups.

Vil: Neither would the rest of these customers. Do you still think that it was worth selecting that specific set?

Azul: Absolutely. I vow to serve drinks and meals on quality dishes that I have personally selected.

Azul: That is something that I will never compromise as the proprietor of the Mostro Lounge.

Azul: You yourself would never touch clothes or cosmetics that don't suit your design or aesthetic taste, yes?

Vil: So, just as I carefully concoct my personal brand by being particular on how I fashion myself…

Vil: You look to enhance the Mostro Lounge by careful consideration of the tableware and table linen.

Vil: I think that fastidious approach of yours is just as spectacular. Perhaps I have judged you a tad harshly.

Azul: Why, thank you. I fully believed that you of all people would understand, Vil-san.

Azul: However… I cannot deny that at times I would like to share that appreciation of the tableware's elegance with someone who actually understands their worth.

Azul: That being said, Vil-san, allow me to prepare your order on my absolute finest plates.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit #deuce spade #epel felmier #twst azul #twst vil #twst deuce #twst epel #twst grim #twst yuu #twst translation #twst tapis rouge #mention: eric

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sweetdreamsbuck · 1 year

Note

napping on the couch together if you feel so inclined 🥺💖

I'm here

bucky x f!reader (gif not indicative of reader description)

w.c: 2.5k

a/n: Col, this strayed far from what it was originally meant to be, but I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoy it<3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

Bucky’s never been one to be overbearing, in any way.

Protective and doting, certainly– never so that his attentive means of care made you feel anything but cherished, supported, grounded.

Your Bucky.

Meeting you, loving you, allowing something so priceless into his world, has changed everything for him. There’s a burning need to be the one constant in your life that knows you. To be the man who can take the pressures of the world from off of your shoulders with ease, weaving himself around every twinge of sadness, eclipsing all murmurs of insignificance and unrest, until all you know is the weight of his breath shouldering your heart.

“You listenin’ to me?” it’s not a question he ever finds himself asking, but tonight, his girl’s exhausted. Completely drained. And she came home with the wind knocked out of her lungs and harrowing sobs strangling her light.

Those familiar knuckles, vibranium and oh-so purposeful, stroked along your cheeks while rosy concern emanated from the swells of his own. Bucky finds it necessary now– their delicate dance of outlining the shape of your nose, smoothing the lines of distress and the tremble of your lips resting against his muscles– they’re the culprit of what coaxed your eyes shut in mere seconds.

His hands wield so much power– fragile, firm, thrilling tenderness you weren’t sure existed anywhere else outside of his touch. Impossible not to surrender to, falling deeper and deeper under his protection. But it’s purely selfish now how desperate Bucky is to touch you, to quell every fiber of worry or unease with the brush of his palm. He lives for the moment your body relaxes under his care, all tension and pain evaporating within the caress of his love. “Someone ready for bed?”

His voice is a whisper, a warm and honeyed heaven blanketing every inch of you. How a man of his size embodies the breeze of gentle winds rustling through blades of grass, well. You never have to wonder.

A fearsome beauty to behold, otherworldly– Bucky shines, burnished and ethereal; all of the terrifying Angel you know him to be.

The patter of freezing rain and rough winds plaguing the windows reminded you of how safe you were inside the life you shared. After all the isolating thoughts, after all the feelings of restless insignificance swimming round and round between your ears– Bucky’s here, soothing it all. Erasing any lingering struggle to find your footing, leaving nothing but the ghost of worshiping lips with husky whispers of how proud he is of you, how desperately he loves you with indescribable devotion rushing from his soul.

Each stroke, each breath, each kiss that danced along your skin echoes the sentiment of words Bucky’d shower you with until the day his heart stopped “Oh my sweet girl, I’m here.”

Crying had never felt so safe than while enveloped in his arms, strong hands soothing long paths along your tense back, lips falling protectively against your temple. He touches you as if you're the very thing that lights the sky; his words are hardly enough to prove how much of a miracle you are. Because to him, you are.

His miracle.

His pink lips barely leave your skin as his words sink in– a devastating touch each inch and scar of your being knows; Bucky’s kiss is final. And it lives within each curve, each insecurity, each smile, each ugly secret he knows took all the trust in the world to let him see, loving them enough for the both of you and then some– “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Bucky’s lips brand the words permanently, in absolution with tremors of his vigorous desire to be everything for you. “I got you. Whatever you need, let me,”– you need him, always.

Tonight hadn’t been any different. After what felt like hours of being shielded by his unwavering tenderness, of sobbing into his chest so rawly Bucky swore he felt his heart shredding in two, trying his hardest to catch all of you and never let go– resting your eyes for a moment against his stomach seemed to be just what you needed. Your head shook against thick muscle, his relaxing fingers slowed at your hairline, “N’am not, not tired. Just keep talking.”

Cool metal etched silent promises down to your hip, his piercing gaze staring at you with that look– the one that says he’s perfectly intent on staying like this, loving you, holding you until the messy and unforgiving world made a bit more sense. He needs it more than you most of the time. And then he’d get to hold you some more; knowing the overwhelming emotion he felt every time he looked at you was at peace within your veins.

“Really?” that deep voice crooned, playful, “‘Cause I think, you’re fallin’ asleep on me.”

Work had been hell the past few weeks while feelings of being alone were at an all-time high. Between wrestling with self-doubt, a workload that had somehow weaseled its way into your life and into the nightmares that kept you tossing and turning, all of the yelling and berating that shook you to your core because of mistakes that were entirely out of your control– of course. It was impossible not to.

You were falling asleep on the gentle thing you could never, ever, get enough of immersing yourself in. The one thing that proved time and time again, you could never be alone while Bucky still had air filling his lungs.

And maybe that’s why it’s so effortless to do so. The one thing that saw all of your broken pieces, the sharp edges you felt would threaten even the strongest– Bucky saw them, could paint them all by name like the scars marring his own body. He held them so tenderly, cherished each piece of you that you deemed burdensome so fiercely; nothing about you was a burden. Bucky admired all of you, desired all of you with a fervent need. It made your head spin, it made you feel whole.

“I’m not, just wanna hear your voice. Promise, I’m awake.” Bucky could hardly find it in himself to blink, not when your lips spread in a sweet smile he hadn’t seen in weeks. So small, so muted compared to the brilliance that nearly brought him to his knees every damn time he was in the presence of one. But it’s yours. “Please…”.

It’s weakening, mesmerizing, the bruise you leave with every display of your love. The serum only makes a man so strong; he’d never get enough of the way you wounded him.

Bucky gleams, and if you weren’t so spent, you’d see the air of ease filling his chest, the expanse of his shoulders quaking with reprieve.

Just when you thought you’d known everything there was to know about being seen, guarded by your very own earth angel, his hand closed around yours, tugging it gently to rest against his sternum. Bucky closed his eyes, leaning down to rest his nose within your knuckles. Inhaling, pulling you apart by the very seams and mending all at once– it seemed almost silly, how necessary his lips feel claiming the skin of your fingers, but your body felt the sensitive accusation of his kiss tenfold, “Even here. I’m here, too.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that blurred your vision if you tried.

There’s a lilt, always, pleasant and solid in his sigh when his eyes meet yours, your nerves buzzing from the way he always breathes you in vying for more. Vibranium tickles the tears under your eyes with adoration, a confirmation, he’d let you pretend you’re not falling asleep, that you really wanted to listen to him ramble on and on– so long as he gets to wound you, too.

That’s all you’ll ever need.

Your body knows, even on the cusp of sleep it craves him. More him, always more. His warmth, his support, the irresistible smell of his skin that always comes before relief. It slowly shifts, uncurling itself from the dip of the couch and closer to where Bucky’s fingers concealed your own.

His hands revel in that, it’s all they itch for; guiding your frame closer until your body collapses with deliverance, lashes teasing against his skin while your breathing slowed even more.

His eyes certainly never risk closing when you burrow further into his chest, hiding that exhausted pout within the shadows of his neck just above rough scar tissue. How could he miss even a second?

The echo of your heart mirrored the air puffing down his neck with every exhale sighed and it’s a revelation. Bucky revels in how perfect it feels to be wanted, to be trusted so deeply by the person who fills every color of his life with undying affection. He takes none of it for granted, especially not the soft hums the most distracting lips fall to adorn his throat with.

And then they melt on his skin, the featherlight promise of Bucky’s miracle resting against his pulse, again and again and again– it’s hardly his fault a shiver eases down his spine. Those damn lips. He’ll never be able to find language to express to you how good it feels, how addicting you are.

He’d do anything for you, be anything for you.

“Alright, sweet girl,” those strong hands wrap around your waist, plush lips greeting your eyelids with a dynamic song that sings I’m here. It’s okay to let go, let go, sweet girl. Let me love you. You’ve heard it countless times– have felt it endlessly since the first moment you invited him in behind those towering, frightening walls of your heart. But it’s soft, orchestrated with vulnerable direction, scruff-laced harmonies whispered against every inch of you, ostinato declarations of desire with a certain timbre only you know the key of “I’ll take care of you, just let me love you.”

“You’re gonna have to hear all about my perfect girl, but I can do that. Jus’let me hold you right.” The couch pillows already share the imprint of your body pressed up against his, of countless hours of entwined limbs and thick muscles sheltered within your arms. Yet, it always feels new, a different welcome each time, somehow more familiar than the last.

Bucky rearranged you both lying with his back nestled in the cushions, cradling you right atop his heart. “She’s so bright, the smartest.” Long fingers lifted under your chin, catching your eyes in their fight to stay open.

“And she’s the kindest soul, swear she’s made of stars.” He couldn’t help himself; that breathtaking glimmer washing so peacefully over your face, the trying lift of your mouth; he smoothed the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before placing a kiss just under your nose, “beautiful,” on the plump of your cheek, “so, so beautiful,” on the corner of your mouth, “precious”. Bucky’s lips meld so softly with your own, your breath tasting of surrender, of bliss.

A sniffle slipped out, once then twice. “Strong. So damn strong,” a third time is when your body followed through with its fate, shaking slightly against him.

The way he holds you, knows you, worships you, leaving no room for questioning the torrents of emotion he treads– it’s maddening. Bucky walks with the years of his own pain, yet bleeds with the certainty of just how easy it is to love you, to devour you whole with the joyous bruise of being loved in return.

“Shh hey, hey…what?” he worried, rubbing a calloused thumb from your quivering lip all the way to your creased forehead.

“What what?”

Forced bemusement of his concern rumbled delightedly beneath you, “You’re okay,” his nose bumped against yours, lips following, “but what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” Bucky’s nose wiggled down to behind your ear, peppering quick pecks on the skin there until you were squirming.

You giggled– oh god you fucking giggle and Bucky’s ruined. It erupted, and he felt it everywhere; goosebumps, swirling until they bled so potent beneath his skin. Nothing else could matter more than the promising sound of the home he’s allowed himself to live in.

“I don’t know,” he feels it in your eyes– so telling of the devotion Bucky deserves– honest, and they can’t seem to get enough of the curve of his nose, the freckles that dance along the high points of his concerned features. Those serene, startling blue eyes. Always seeing you, always longing for you.

Home. Your Bucky.

“I’m just so tired.”

Bucky would relive every moment he’s endured to always know what it feels like to be loved by you, to be clung to in your most vulnerable of states, with glazed-over eyes tormented and drowsy, to know of the rapture that exists in holding you tight until the air drowning your lungs is full of his love, of soothing breaths. To nurture you, accept your feelings and emotions with open hands, however they may present themselves.

He wants it all. Just you.

Bucky could only pull you closer, breathing you in as plump lips gently lay on your forehead, resolute arms embracing you with reverence.

He clears his throat, ready for you to listen, “Sometimes, I wonder how I got here. You know how special this is to me? The light of my dreams, so damn comfortable in my arms. Did’ya know that? Used to dream of you,” his knuckles swiped away the remaining wet trails from your face, calloused fingers softly spidering along your shoulders.

“Really? My Bucky?”

My Bucky– god he could burst.

The flush spreading along his cheeks hardly phased him, he nestled his nose against you further, nodding.

“Didn’t ever get to see you, but I know it. Had to be you, watching over me. Better than I could have even imagined. Sweetest damn eyes, hurts my chest a little just thinking about going a whole lifetime without ever knowing them. Prettiest heart in the whole world, you save me a little more every time I look at ya. When I get to hold you. You have no idea what you are to me.”

Me? your tongue attempted. It comes out as more of a yawn, already asleep.

“All I ever needed. Lucky bastard I am, huh?” Bucky hates how the world seems to take your compassion for granted, walking all over your kindness as if it’s expendable. It’s not. Not even a little bit. God only knows the serenity it’s granted him, of the fresh air it’s offered Bucky to live within each day.

“You’re the first thing I’ve had in a long time. And you make me feel whole, capable. I could be myself, learn to, at least. Not… disappear. Could never do that, not now. I have years to make up for, a whole life to live. A home to get back to at the end of the day. And I got the sweetest thing in the whole damn universe to love. You got no idea…”

A questioning whimper of his name rumbles against his throat, safe and asleep in the soundness of his chest.

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder– the only metal that would ever know the enormity of what a miracle you were– just as his eyelids drift closed.

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring down, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder; the only metal that truly knew the enormity of what a miracle you were; just as his eyelids drift closed.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x f!reader

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kairiscorner · 8 months

Text

question of the day: who would fall the hardest if they ever fell in love?

well... i've got 4 candidates in mind, and i think... (3/4)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel o'hara. — guilty of falling hard for you.

summary: for all of his life, he's never felt the need to be in love or to love, he's never felt the rush, the surge of electricity coursing through his body when he's close to or with someone he even remotely finds spending time with enjoyable--until you happened, you came, and everything changed. pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader genre: fluff as FUCKKKK

miguel o'hara is a stern, serious man; nobody would approach him for anything unless it was absolutely necessary. he made it clear he didn't want to be spoken to by anyone unless he specifically requested to speak to them, he's that professional when it comes to those he works and associates with. though when it came to you, all professionalism it out the window–in private, at least.

miguel o'hara swore to himself that connections and attachment were the last things he needed right now. all that he needed was the safety of the multiverse to be ensured, and that would be it. it didn't matter to him what would happen next or what would happen to him, just not other people getting hurt at his expense or if be could help it. but thankfully, ever since he met that extremely wonderful, strong, kind, and compassionate somebody in his life that changed his everything... he had a new, more personal reason to want to keep the multiverse intact, on top of his other reasons, you were one of his only reasons to keep going.

miguel o'hara is a practical man, he doesn't do things that warrant sentiment, at least not anymore. though little by little, he noticed that you've always done things for him–such simple, everyday things he and other people could do for themselves–make coffee for him, buy him some treats you know he likes from your home dimension, and share with him little trinkets you want him to have or think he'd like.

miguel o'hara was moved, very gradually, by your little acts of kindness and generosity for him. in a way, he's felt the need to do the same for you in return, but all his attempts have been awkward; he refuses to acknowledge your words of thanks outwardly–just nodding or looking away from you and muttering a 'you're welcome' under his breath–and he struggles explaining why he got you those things or did those things for you, well, he always explains, even when the act itself is self-explanatory.

miguel o'hara wants to let you know that it's never his intention to come off as a big, scary grizzly bear of a man; he's just a guy, a guy who has anger issues and finds a lot of things wrong with himself that you find–for some reason–beautiful. "why are you romanticizing my flaws?" he'd ask you with a genuinely puzzled look and questioning tone; he'd never use the word 'beautiful' to describe his own plethora of mistakes, regrets, and reasons why people don't find him approachable or amicable–but you do, for whatever reason that may be.

miguel o'hara didn't think he'd find himself in this situation, being spoken to with these kinds of words–it doesn't feel real, he doesn't feel worthy of this kind of treatment. he's done many bad, irreversible things in his life; unknowingly hurt many, many people with his actions. hearing you say that it's not his flaws that you find beautiful, but rather, it's the fact that he's trying to correct the failures from those flaws he has that's beautiful.

miguel o'hara is perplexed, and he feels a little whirlwind in his stomach and his heart feels a little lighter; he feels... strange, though a good kind of strange–he doesn't want this foreign feeling to end, yet his mind keeps telling him to disengage, tell you not to keep praising him like this–because he knows, he'll fall for you even more than he already has.

miguel o'hara can't believe it, he admitted it to himself: he's fallen for you, he's still falling for you. this scares miguel even more than you can imagine; he's hopelessly, utterly, very much in love with you. you being a strong, capable, and respectable member of his team is one factor in him finding you so amazing–but you being a kind, gentle person towards him is a whole nother thing that made him spiral into this whirlpool of emotions for you.

miguel o'hara wakes up every morning thinking about you, spends the rest of his day with you in the front of his mind, and ends his day with you as his final though before drifting off to sleep–with you being in every one of his dreams ever since you two became close.

miguel o'hara never goes on with the rest of his day without the the feeling and memory of you being carried in his heart–he can't even begin to understand how through your constant smothering of kindness towards him did he become... fond of you. he has never felt this compelled to be near someone, to have his mind casually and involuntarily storing adjectives and compliments to describe you and how you you can be.

miguel o'hara is undoubtedly conflicted about what he should do to quell the feeling, because even though he wants to avoid it at all costs and to ignore that it's there, he desperately wants to be near you and hold you close to him–you're all that's right in the multiverse to him, and if you being kind to him is just in your nature and not because the multiverse decreed you to be so, he's even more in love with your pure and clean heart and soul and he wants to be with you all the more.

miguel o'hara tries to do everything he can to ignore the nagging of his heart and listen to the rationalizations of his mind; you're better off without him, and he's better off not feeling anything for you, even if it means he has to bury it–like he does with all other feelings he has–and never speak of it again to properly hide it from everyone, including himself.

miguel o'hara, though, just can't avoid you. he can't avoid your constant presence in his daily life, he can't avoid your tender, giving self–and he can't avoid you because you're permanently living in his mind rent-free, and you work with him. he doesn't want to avoid you, he just thinks that's what's best for you–but if you have no problem being near him, treating him like a friend as opposed to a mere colleague, and complimenting him in areas where he's confused and conflicted over and helping him grow as a person... then maybe the multiverse is cutting him some slack for once and giving him a chance to... to love, and to love deeply, passionately, and truly for the first time in ever.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year

Text

WARM CONVERSATION (suna x reader)

cw: breakup heavy, light mentions of reader going through it, angst to fluff i promise!!!! best friend osamu <3 kinda long im sorry, titled from sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift because what else would it be

You should've known he’d come over. Should've expected it the moment you sent the text turning down his offer disguised as a reminder.

A sick part of you almost wants to laugh as you reread the texts on the phone in hand.

From: Osamu

ur coming with me to atsumu’s stupid thing tonight, right?

To: Osamu

absolutely not

Not even twenty minutes later (which is impressive, considering Osamu lives at least thirty away from your apartment), an abrasive knock is on your door and you don't even need to check the peephole to see who waits on the other side.

The moment you open the door with unimpressed eyes, Osamu is opening his mouth to complain.

“You're shitting me, right?”

His tone walks the line of being in denial and being pissed, like he can’t quite be angry yet because he’s not sure if you’re joking with him or not. He does a quick once-over of your appearance—with pajamas you've been wearing for three days straight, dirty and unbrushed hair, and a more than half-eaten bag of chips in hand, you choose to shrug.

“Can’t say I am,” you deadpan before turning your back to him, letting him huff his way into your apartment with urgency.

“No,” he shakes his head to himself, laughing in disbelief, “no, you’re coming with me.”

Closing your eyes in frustration, your head falls back into a childish groan.

“Osamu, I really don't want to.”

“It’ll be good for you,” he's quick to try again. His eager words immediately have you scowling, but he can't tell if the waver in your voice is one on the verge of laughter or tears.

“And how will celebrating your brother being awarded ‘The Sexiest Man in Japan’ be good for me?”

“Eurgh, not that,” he’s quick to clarify through an over exaggerated gag before reiterating, “just getting out there. Everyone’s missed ya.”

Your glare softens in the slightest at his sweet confession. He uses your hesitation from the sentimental moment to snatch the bag of chips from your grasp and raise his eyebrows in amusement. Instantly, your intimidating glare returns and you’re throwing your hands out at your sides in frustration.

You whine obnoxiously, rubbing at your eyes with your fingertips before recollecting your stubborn self.

“I'm no fun to be around right now,” you decide to remind him, crossing your arms in defense and letting him sit on your persistent words.

Now, it’s Osamu’s gaze that softens at your harsh self-judgment.

“Yer the only one who thinks that,” he tries to match your sarcasm, but you’re sure to note the gentle tone weaving through his breath.

Tired of the game of cat and mouse, you fold. Plopping yourself on the couch, Osamu cautiously sits next to you, where your head is in your hands and your nose is pinched in thought.

“He’s back,” your voice is soft, barely above a whisper as your eyes meet the floor, “and he’s gonna be there.”

Osamu merely nods, as if he’s been expecting this point to be made.

“I know,” he agrees, before thinking out loud, “it’ll be the first time you’ve seen him since—” his voice loses its confident edge as his sentence trails off.

With a humorless laugh, you bitterly finish for him, “Since we broke up?”

“Since you forced him to break up with you,” Osamu corrects through a smug grin, “but yeah.”

And your eyes roll because he’s not technically wrong, there's just more to it—so you decide on biting your tongue and letting him have that one.

When silence takes over, you assume that's the end of the conversation. Perhaps that was naive of you to think, as when you turn your head you’re still met with Osamu’s expectant gaze awaiting your response.

“I don’t know, Osamu,” you give up into a sigh.

Getting excited at your slipping determination, he sits further up on the couch.

“I’ll be right there the whole time. I'll drive, we can leave whenever ya want, and if anyone says anything stupid, I’ll defend yer honor, per usual.”

Your silence speaks louder than your resistance, and Osamu can practically taste the victory on his tongue as he watches you loomingly mull it over.

“You owe me a bottle of wine,” you declare as your head falls back into your hands.

Osamu silently lunges his fist in the air at his success.

“Damn right I do,” he proudly agrees before tossing you the snack still held in his left hand, “I’ll even throw in a bag of chips, too.”

…

Walking up to the door of Atsumu’s (disgustingly large) penthouse, the sickening memory of the last time you saw Suna intrudes your mind on repeat.

You knew he’d be traveling. After officially signing with EJP Raijin, you had thought you braced yourself for this. The early training hours, the late night flights, the stealing time together just for it to be ripped away at any moment. You swallowed that pill and digested it fully.

And then he told you about America. About the year-long tournament and exclusive training program he’d been recruited into. You vividly remember him eagerly bragging about how not even Atsumu got invited. He was thrilled, and you were too, for him.

But then came the unease, the insecurity that would eat away at your brain every night like a parasite. You couldn’t rest, couldn't live with yourself knowing that there could be more out there for him. You refused to hold him back from fully experiencing whatever this opportunity could bring him. You wanted him happy, whether that was with you or not.

Needless to say, the breakup came as a surprise to him. Two weeks before he left, just when he had everything he’d ever dreamed of, the thing he needed the most decided to slip from his grasp.

“You're being stupid,” he threw out in a panic. “You don’t get to just decide that for me when it affects both of us.”

“I already made up my mind,” you'd croaked out through teary eyes and a constricting throat.

You remember Suna looking at you like he didn't even know you, like he didn't recognize the person standing in front of him. The person who held his heart in their hands, the person he has a ring hidden in his closet shelf for. Unrecognizable.

Your shaking hands held out in front of you like a plea, you continued to use them to sever your red string of fate from him.

“You don't know what's out there for you. You could love it there, you could meet someone better than—”

“Why would you say that?” he winced at your words. He felt like he was going crazy, like this wasn't really happening. Not to him, not with you. “I don't want anyone who’s not you, I don't even want to think about that, I—”

“Rintaro,” your hand on his salty cheek was the last time he’d feel your touch. He didn't knows that at the moment, refused to believe it, but it was. He knows that now.

“I won't be able to live with myself if I don't do this,” your voice is barely audible behind your sobs. “I’d never forgive myself if I knew you had anything to regret.”

Regret.

He places his hand on top of where yours rests on his cheek.

“I don’t want to do this,” he urgently begged, “I love you.”

You smiled and it broke whatever was left of his heart.

“And I love you,” you ached. “So go to America, and don't think about me. And if there’s a world where you come back here a year from now and somehow still feel the same, then maybe things could be different. But we won't know that unless you go.”

Two weeks later, Suna was on a plane to the states—and when he went to call you before he boarded, he was immediately sent to voicemail.

It’s been a year since it happened, but it feels like days when Atsumu opens his french wooden door with a brash welcome.

The party in itself is fine, probably fun for the average guest invited. Atsumu thought it would be funny to throw himself a congratulatory party for being voted Japan’s Sexiest Man, though with the alcohol coursing through his veins and the hype from his past and current teammates, you’re willing to bet he fully believes it.

The night passes like nails on a chalkboard, agonizingly slow and leaving you hyperaware of your actions. Conversation is easy enough. Everyone is kind and Osamu holds true to his promise of hanging by your side for the most part. You catch Suna’s gaze a handful of times, never holding it long enough to address it, nor feeling drunk enough to do something about it. You hate how foreign it feels.

…

The balcony is a refreshing kind of cold on your clammy skin. The jacket you hold tightly against your torso is more so for protection than it is for warmth.

You’d excused yourself from a small conversation with Iwaizumi and Osamu to escape onto a balcony of (one of) Atsumu’s guest rooms. Just for a moment—a moment to breathe, to stop thinking foolish thoughts, to bury yourself in the drink in your hand.

The sound of the sliding door interrupts your sulking and your heart drops like glass on concrete.

“Osamu said I might find you here,” the voice wavers, and you sigh in relief to hear that it’s Aran.

“Fucking Osamu,” you curse behind a sip of your drink. “Remind me to kill him later.”

Aran laughs earnestly at your clear stress, “M’not that bad, am I?”

“No,” you're quick to correct, “no, I didn't mean it like that.”

Aran’s always been a good friend, to both you and Suna. From your high school days to the entire year you were barely seen in the public eye, he’s always been genuine and attentive. The conversation is natural, a nice distraction from the consistent thumping in both your head and heart.

You congratulate him on his most recent win. He asks about your work. You tell him about a recent promotion and he manages to successfully tell you about his time in America without directly tying it back to Suna. You appreciate his earnest effort.

That is, until he clears his throat into the crisp air.

“He hasn't been with anyone since you,” Aran suddenly breathes.

You don’t say anything, but he sees how your brow furrows at the sudden declaration.

“He didn't see anyone while he was away, in America,” he clarifies.

He watches your body stiffen at the realization of what he’s talking about. Drink in hand, your arms cross defensively across your chest. You’d attempt to play the pathetic action off as the cold weather if you cared.

Your tone is a bit harsher than you’d like it to be when you respond. “It wouldn't have mattered if he did, we weren’t together.”

Aren’t, you mentally correct yourself. We aren't together. It shouldn't matter, no matter the capacity. But with the way Aran’s watching you crumble like a leaf in the wind, both of you know that it does. It matters.

“I mean—he tried, a few times,” he adds on, “but he couldn't go through with it.”

Your heart sinks at the mere thought of Suna trying to get back out there, and you hate that you still feel this way because that was the whole point. The reason for the way everything went down the way it did is because you wanted Suna to explore all of his options before choosing you. So why does the mere insinuation of him doing the exact thing you told him to do make bile rise in your chest?

You sniffle, hoping Aran dismisses it on the chilly breeze as you practically whimper, “Why are you telling me this?”

Aran smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. It drips of a melancholy coldness. “Because I think you deserve to know that even when he could’ve, he still didn't do anything.”

His words grip you like a tight hug, almost constraining as they apply pressure to all the spots you'd numbed months ago. And he must feel it, too, because he decides that he’s said enough.

With a gentle hand placed on your shoulder, he makes his way back inside, but not before prefacing you with a foreboding, “I don't know if he’ll try and talk to you tonight, but if he does, just—think about hearing him out, alright?”

You swallow before nodding, “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

And once again, you're alone with your thoughts—but they're different this time. Less cruel and guilt-ridden, but more so clear and airy.

You hear the door sliding open once more behind you, and your naivety assumes it’s Aran returning with another final word of wisdom. You’re turning around without a second thought.

“Aran, I told you I’d–”

Any blood not tainted by alcohol leaves your face as Rintaro now stands before you, taller than you remember, though you know it’s not even possible. His eyes still look right through your facade, his adam’s apple still prominent as he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Hi,” he bites first.

Your response is immediate, but far weaker, “Hi.”

He joins you where you lean on the railing, practically shoulder to shoulder as the two of you stare at the dimming streetlights, sipping on drinks that suddenly don’t feel strong enough.

“Congrats,” eventually falls from your lips, “on everything. You deserve it all.”

“Thanks,” he returns, though you know it’s only to segue into what slips from his lips next. “You look great,” he lamely chokes out.

Your response is immediate and cold, “You don't have to.”

“Don’t have to what?” Suna chokes out after a second of confusion.

“Lie,” you breathe, eyes still focused on the street below. “I’ve looked like shit for the past year, I’m well aware.”

Within the entire mourning period of the breakup, you’ve barely taken care of yourself. You look unhealthy—sunken cheeks and dark circles and skin and bones and sadness. But Suna doesn't see it that way.

Sure, you look different, but you always look different. You're always growing and changing one way or another. And while he might wish you looked like you got more sleep, that's for selfish reasons, not superficial ones. Your eyes still hold the same shape they did when he left you, your hands still smaller and cold. Your lips still the same mold against his, he hopes.

“I always think you look beautiful,” he disagrees with a mere shrug, “you still look like you.”

You swallow back a whimper at his honest words, before clearing your throat and biting the bullet.

“Why’re you out here, Suna?”

The last name stings, but he chooses to ignore it for now. There are bigger issues at hand.

He states the obvious, “It’s been a year. M’back from America.”

He watches you nod in agreement, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Do you remember what you said?”

Your throat closes at his words.

“Rintaro—”

“I went,” his voice raises in desperation to get his point across, “and I had all the freedom in the world. Could’ve done whatever the fuck I wanted to. And I did, or I tried to, but I wouldn’t because it wasn’t with you.”

“I know,” your pitch matches his, “that was the point. I wasn’t going to let you do something if you couldn’t do it properly.”

He shakes his head at your stupid reasoning, the same stupid reasoning that ruined everything in the first place. You were so sure that there was more out there for him, that he’d be swept off his feet by some American woman and forget you entirely. And because of his own fear, he was forced to go along with it and prove you wrong. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Well guess what?” he takes a sip of his bottle before swallowing harshly, “I did it, and it sucked, and now I'm back and nothing’s changed on my end.”

He takes a step closer to you, shaky hand raising in slow motion so you see it coming, so you have a chance to flinch or dodge or run, and you don’t. You let him rest it on your cheek, just like you did that night, and you let him tilt your jaw up to look at him properly for the first time in a year.

“Now I know what it’s like to be with you and to be without you, and I still just fucking want you.”

You take a moment to admire him, just as beautiful as the day you’d left him. He’s porcelain and tangible and here for the first time in a—

“And it’s been a year,” he reminds you through a sad smile, “like you said.”

You let out a wet giggle through your shaky core, “It’s been eleven months.”

Rintaro groans as if he’s been punched in the gut, and the feeling of your laughter erupting even louder shoots what he assumes must feel like drugs straight to his heart. Ever so gently, he swipes a stray tear from your lash line.

“Don't make me wait another month,” he begs, “please.”

Rintaro thanks whatever deity might've listened to his endless prayers these past eleven months, because for the first time ever, you listen to him. Obey him without complaint as you let him press his lips to yours, and he’s overwhelmed with warmth at the realization that they do still mold against his all the same.

“I love you,” he breathes in between breaks from your lips, “never stopped loving you.”

“I know,” you match his hunger, “I love you.”

Between overdue kisses and eager gazes to ensure that you are, indeed, real, Suna lets go of all of his regrets.

“M’never letting that happen again,” he shakes his head at his own stupidity, “never letting you go again.”

“Okay,” you mindlessly nod into his hands.

“Never letting you make a stupid decision like that for the both of us.”

“Sorry—”

“Never letting you look at me like that from across the room just to look away. I mean, what the fuck was that—”

You shove him out of embarrassment and oh, it feels like love. “Okay, I get it,” you whine.

And when the night passes in eventual hours that feel like mere seconds, ending up with you in Suna’s lap and everything under the moon being discussed, he’s brought back to reality as you begin to rise from his hold.

Rintaro instantly ushers you back on top of him, “Hey, hey, where d’you think you’re going?”

You comply with his gesture, but not without rolling your eyes. “Shouldn't we go back inside? They're gonna wonder where we are.”

“Let ‘em,” his head is buried into your neck, a feathery kiss placed as he tightens his hold on you. “I just got you back, lemme hold onto you for a little longer.”

…

+ bonus scene!

Between tipsy laughter and friendly competition, the party going on inside should be busy with a handful of different things. But the leading contender of entertainment for the group of friends seems to be partaking on the balcony.

Too lost in one another, you’re grateful you don't see the tufts of red hair peeking out behind the curtain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the long-awaited reunion taking place.

“It's working, I think it’s working!” Hinata beams, bouncing from window to window trying to get the best view.

“She’s on his lap,” Kita, who traveled a decent way to see this (oh, and for Atsumu, too), notes. “Do you think they’ve kissed yet?”

Speaking of the devil, Atsumu pushes his old captain aside as he drunkenly whines, “Aw, we missed it?”

The crowd of overgrown men bursts into childish chatter.

“Don't be a fuckin’ creep.”

“I didn��t mean it like that, you idiot.”

“They’ve had to have kissed by now, we just weren’t paying attention.”

“Yep, they're kissing!” Bokuto excitedly confirms, watching the two of you outside like a rom-com displayed on the silver screen.

Osamu’s attention is finally sparked at this confirmation.

“Oh thank god,” he impatiently shoves through the crowd to confirm the sight with his own eyes, and when he deems it to be true, he exhales a long overdue breath of relief. ‘‘That was the worst year of my life.”

Aran tilts his head in confusion, “I thought it was only eleven months—”

“Eleven months too long.”

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna angst #suna fluff #suna fic #suna rintaro fic #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro angst #suna haikyuu #suna rintaro haikyuu

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hotvintagepoll · 16 days

Text

Propaganda

Paulette Goddard (Modern Times, The Women, The Great Dictator)—she got started in the 1920s in Chaplin movies, but I actually like her best in her sound career—she's so funny and always conveys a liiiiittle bit of bitchiness in everything I've seen her in! my fave is this very genderbendy bit in "Pot O' Gold," [video below cut] where she goes into full drag king mode to sing a song about what a lady killer she is. it blew my mind that this turned up in a 1930s movie with absolutely no context. it's so queer and I love her for it.

Shima Iwashita (Goben no Tsubaki)—Shima Iwashita was THE leading lady of Shochiku (one of the 3 major movie studios in Japan) for over 16 years, including the entirety of 1960s. She's been two-time winner of the Blue Ribbon Awards for Best Actress and the winner of the Japanese Academy Award of actress in a leading role in 1977. Famously known in Japan as the actress best suited to wearing kimono, Iwashita often played elegant, strong-willed, and sometimes vengeful female characters. She is particularly adept at portraying women's independence and self-reliance, as well as their delicate inner feelings, and has portrayed a number of sentimental and individualistic women in her many period and contemporary dramas. Her talent was discovered by Yasujirō Ozu, one of the world's greatest filmmakers, who told Shochiku executives at the time, "She is an exceptional talent who comes along only once in a decade." Ozu cast her as the female lead in his final film An Autumn Afternoon before he died of cancer in 1963. Now at the age of 83, she is as beautiful as ever.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Paulette Goddard:

[editor's note: TW for the typical Hollywood "Latin" stereotypes in the following clip]

youtube

Perhaps best remembered as the gamine from Chaplin's movies - and she is so charming, mischievous, energetic and heartbreaking in the role

It’s impossible to watch her with Charlie Chaplin and not fall in love with her, the absolute most perfect sweetest feistiest actress

Shima Iwashita:

#shima iwashita #paulette goddard #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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cyberrose2001 · 9 months

Note

Optimus Prime (TFP) and Megatron (TFA) with a human s/o that dirty talks to them in other languages (headcannons pls)

TFP Optimus and TFA Megatron with s/o who talks dirty in other languages (hcs)

Hi! Thanks for requesting! I hope this is what you were after. I left specific languages out so you can insert your own as you please… enjoy! <3

Warnings: GN reader, human reader, nsfw headcanons, general smut, dirty talk.

Word count: 477

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

TFP Optimus

- Optimus often finds beauty in everything; his spark especially has a soft spot for written and spoken languages, being an ex-archivist, after all. When you revealed to him that you could speak several other languages, he was rather impressed.

- He’d sat with you for hours, and his inner love for learning sparked once again as you taught him small phrases and words. Optimus soaked it all in and studied your languages in his spare time, loving your infectious smile when he said ‘I love you’ in one of them.

- When it came to the bedroom, your usual activities started normally, Optimus being on top of you, showering you with kisses and praises.

- While he was slowly grinding his spike into you, you pulled his helm down to whisper something purely erotic into his ear.

- Optimus was initially confused, used to being spoken to in English while in berth, but the words clicked over in his processor, and then he realised you said, ‘Fuck me until you break me’.

- Those words broke something in him, a hidden language kink that he had no idea was hiding within him.

- He finds it outrageously attractive, to the point where he has never wanted to fuck you so hard until all that comes out of your pretty mouth is foreign words.

- From that point on, if you ever wanted to get absolutely railed by Optimus, all you had to do was whisper the most dirtiest things that would make anyone who could speak the language swoon.

TFA Megatron

- When Megatron first heard you speak in a language other than English, he was surprised but not entirely impressed.

- Like, big whoop, you can speak another language, not as impressive as the feats that he has accomplished himself.

- Still, he at least tries to brush aside his ego and applaud you for being somewhat different to most other humans he’s encountered.

- Then again, you’re in a relationship with the bastard, so that’s an impressive feat in itself.

- His opinion changed for the better once while he was fucking you face down on the berth, holding your ass up while he leaned his entire weight over your back.

- While his helm was close enough, you turned your head to the side and moaned, ‘Please fuck me deeper; your spike feels so good inside me’ in your native tongue.

- He sputtered and slowed down, “Wait, what did you just say?”

- He won’t lie; he found it incredibly hot, despite having no idea what you just said, but he got the general sentiment from the tone of voice you spoke in. Desperate and pleading, exactly how he likes you.

- He then proceeded to fuck you into the headboard, curious to see what other profanities he could draw from your drooling lips.

#tfp #tfp optimus #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus x human reader #tfa #tfa megatron #tfa megatron x reader #tfa megaton x human reader #valveplug #cyberrosewrites

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schlattsdoll · 8 months

Note

hi rikki!!!! some thoughts rattling around in my brain at 1:19 am:

fratboy!tedschlatt over winter break????

they’d make a groupchat with the three of you in it because how could they stay without talking to you for two weeks? ted would get you something sentimental and nice like jewelry and schlatt would get you three matching hoodies (he’d also send you one of his hoodies that smelled like him, labeled “don’t tell ted”, knowing the three of you made a bet about who could simp the least). but imagine the CHAOS when you send them a picture of you wearing the new hoodie and jewelry on christmas day.

you: *sent a picture*

schlatt: damn doll, show me what’s under that sweatshirt

ted: schlatt shut up, it’s my turn today

schlatt: you shut the fuck up, she’s my christmas present

ted: YOU shut the fuck up, i have her today

schlatt: no the fuck you dont???

you: why am i here again??

them not being able to help themselves when you surprise them at the frat house wearing their christmas presents.

AHHH i <3 tedschlatt

yours truly,

- 🤭 anon

ANNA YOUR BRAIN

sending a selfie saying “thank you for my beautiful gifts my boys. i love you both so so much <3” and them going crazy, especially schlatt who is a horndog at all times

them fighting over you and you sit there laughing at everything, until you get an idea. you knew both of them stayed at the frat house this past holiday season so it wasn’t empty so you made the drive up to the college and were very happy to see that ted’s truck was missing from the parking lot. you ran into the house using the spare key they left with you and sat down under the tree

the boys came back with target and old navy bags, they’d bought junk snacks and matching pajamas for the three of you. schlatt dropped one of the bags and saw you scrolling your phone under the tree. “ted, you see her too right?” “jay you’re crazy there’s no way sh-” he stopped short when he saw you in the hoodie schlatt bought for you all and the necklace with their birthstones on it, “hi babies!”

they fought over who got to hug you first before you stood up and hugged them both at the same time. “lost the bet, i missed my boys too much.” you smiled up at them. ted kissed your forehead while schlatt went for your cheek

the three of you changed into your matching pajamas and hoodies and cuddled up on ted’s bed watching christmas movies. “best present ever doll.” “absolutely love.”

#poly!tedschlatt #fratboy! ted nivison #fratboy! jschlatt #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich imagine #ted nivision smut #ted nivison fluff #ted nivison headcanons #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison smut #🤭 anon #anna ❦

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atsoomi · 7 months

Text

It's been exactly 2 days, 4 hours, and 32 minutes since you and Kuroo got married.

It was the kind of wedding you thought you’d never get the privilege of having— small, comfortable, and filled with familiar faces— not to mention, the most memorable day of your life. You’d never thought you could be that happy, or that you’d be surrounded by so many people who shared the sentiment. But if Kuroo has done anything through the course of your entire relationship, it’s prove your negative thoughts wrong.

And then, of course, came the honeymoon.

Previously, you’d argued with him a lot about where to go for the honeymoon period. He thought somewhere in Japan— like Hokkaido with its breathtaking natural scenery, or Kyoto with its countless temples— would do just fine. But you’d nagged him about taking you somewhere outside the country, reminding him of the fact that you live in Japan; you have the rest of your lives to travel around Japan, but who knows when you’ll get the chance to go to Europe again?

After a few weeks of going back and forth, discussing all the possible locations and looking up things till one in the morning, you finally agree on Italy, specifically, Venice. It’s the perfect mix of culture and fun for both of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to see The Grand Canal, especially with all the lights at night.

So, after a day of post-wedding packing, and a long day of traveling, you’re finally in Venice. In Venice, on your honeymoon. And it would be absolutely perfect, if you hadn’t lost your husband of two days in the crowd of locals.

You’d done a lot, a lot, of research on spots in Venice that you wanted to visit during the 3-week stay. And you’ve always known (after a lifetime of fantasizing about this trip) that if you come to Italy, you have to try their gelato. So you went through a few articles, bookmarked a few websites, and found this shop, Gelateria il Doge.

It’s been described as a hidden attraction, and you’ve always loved discovering hidden gems. The excitement was so overpowering that the first thing you decided to do once you settled down in your hotel room is go out and find it. Kuroo can’t say no when you’re so excited, so it only took twenty minutes to find yourself at the desired spot.

You went in, without Kuroo because he insisted on slowing down and taking some more pictures, and you finally ordered the gelato you’ve been thinking about since you agreed to come to Italy. But it seems to have cost you your husband.

He’s not where he was standing five minutes ago, you turn and scan the mass of people walking by, but you don’t spot the familiar head of dark hair. Your phone rests in your cross bag but your hands are full with gelato, so you hesitantly accept your fate and sit on the nearest bench you can find, assuming that you’ll just spot him when he comes back from wherever he went.

You sit and admire the cold treat in your hand, it’s beautiful and inviting and it makes you feel like you’ve never had ice cream before. It makes you feel like your life is about to be altered permanently, even though you’re not completely sure what flavor you got— something about poor Italian skills and taking risks.

You’re about to taste it for the first time, practically salivating at that point, when a strange guy sits on the same bench, seemingly popping out of nowhere. You pause, mouth shutting, as you peer at him with caution. He’s undeniably good looking, skin-kissed tan skin and brown hair falling over warm green eyes, but he’s not exactly your type. No other man could be.

You attempt to ignore his presence, but he turns his head and you make intense eye contact. Your mouth hangs slightly open as he scans your face, it’s awkward and you feel the awkwardness paralyze you into speechlessness. You’re sure you look incredibly dumb but your mind is too busy malfunctioning to save you.

His eyes go down to your hand and he says something in Italian that you don’t understand. A few seconds pass by before he reaches for it, your hand that is, with wide eyes. You reflexively flinch away, alarmed at the sudden approach. What the hell is going on?

“Oh my god, you idiot, the gelato.” He speaks, frustrated, this time in the language you can understand, with a heavy Italian accent.

You look down at your hands and you’re surprised at the trail of melted gelato on your hand. Oh, he’s not a creep, you realize, he was just trying to help.

You bashfully keep your head down, embarrassed at how you reacted and the fact that you were too tense to realize he said the word gelato about 3 times. God, this is embarrassing, where is your husband when you need him?

“Sorry about that,” you lick the melted sweet off as discreetly as possible, “I don’t speak Italian.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, I can tell.”

You’re silent, ashamed to be specific, as you eat the rest of your gelato before something else happens. He observes you for a few minutes, as you eat from both cones to prevent any disasters, before he chuckles quietly.

“Tourist?” He asks.

“Kinda,” you answer, slowly relaxing as the embarrassment wears off.

He nods, “How did you find this store then?” he points to Gelateria il Doge. It stands there proudly, almost mocking you for making a fool out of yourself in front of a local.

“Oh, lots of research.” You laugh to yourself, remembering the sight of a very tired Kuroo by your side while you’re on your thousandth new tab. “It actually wasn’t that hard.”

“Do you like it?” He asks.

“The gelato?”

He shakes his head, “Italy.”

“Oh,” you smile, “yeah, it’s lovely and I’ve wanted to visit for a really long time.” He hums approvingly so you go on. “You’re Italian, aren’t you? Grew up here?”

“Kinda”, he retorts and you giggle, “I grew up in the south, but my brother lives here.”

You nod your head in understanding; more questions are on the tip of your tongue (like his name for example?) when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Oh I thought you looked familiar.” You turn your head and see your husband of two days walking towards you and this Italian stranger. He beams at you, happy to be reunited with the sight of your lovely face, but halts for a second when his eyes shift over to the guy. He tips his head to the side, silently asking about him, and you just smile. I’ll tell you later.

“You weren’t going to eat both gelatos yourself after all,” the Italian says, which reminds you of the two cones you’ve been holding yourself the whole time, and the fact that your husband walked off and left you all alone, in Venice of all places. You’ll definitely yell at him once you’re alone, but for now, you settle on standing up and handing him his cone.

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone now, enjoy the honeymoon, ciao.”

He winks at you discreetly, maybe not discreet enough because Kuroo suddenly places his arm around your shoulder protectively, and you manage to wave at him before he’s gone.

Kuroo turns to you, eyebrow raised, “was he hitting on you?”

You laugh, “that’s all you care about, isn’t it? What about telling me where the hell you’ve been? Or apologizing for making me wait so long,” you slap his chest, “it’s actually your fault I had to entertain another man.”

He holds your hand against his chest, grinning at the fake annoyance in your voice, “I apologize my dear, dear wife.” His eyes rest on the ring he put on your finger for a second, feeling prideful. “ Let’s sit, we have to finish this before it melts.”

While you eat, you tell him about the whole interaction with the Italian man and every small thing that happened while you were apart. He scoffs at the events between you and the guy, fully convinced that he just wanted an excuse to touch your hand. You laugh and tease him about how attractive the guy was, telling him maybe you should’ve gone with the guy who didn’t leave you all alone. He flicks your forehead before you can continue and that conversation gets lost between all the other topics. You ask him what he was doing while he was gone, and he smiles, all-knowing and mysterious.

“You’ll see.”

#i cant stop writing about this guy with ice cream and ice cream relatives.. what is wrong with me..#anyways expect more of this if i dont get ambushed by classes #im not sure i like my writing in this but i feel like its been too long since i posted anything so.. tell me if u liked this !#word count : 1.4k #this is longer than the og ice cream piece lmao #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo tetsurō

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

Text

"Time & the Trickster" A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 3: The Doctor and I

You and Loki realize the only chance there may be to sent him back to his native timeline is to consult the one person on Earth who may be crazier than he is. But getting there won't be easy when you have no means or funds with which to travel...

CHAPTER WARNING: none

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter MASTERLIST

Loki was growing impatient again. “Tell me, why aren’t we getting the stone first?”

“I told you, Loki, the guy won’t haggle with us if you look like you fell out of a hamper!”

You’d taken Loki to the local Goodwill, which smelled of mothballs and played the same loop of ten 90’s radio hits over the crackling loudspeaker. After cab fare, you still had about $40 on hand, enough for a cheap pair of jeans, a set of boots, and perhaps two shirts if you budgeted well.

Scooping up a few things without much thought, you shoved them at Loki’s chest and pointed at the changing room, which was little more than a deep alcove in the wall with a swinging wooden door.

“Are you saying we’re going to pay for what is rightfully mine?” Loki asked, offended, going into the booth to try on the clothes you’d picked.

“Welcome to the Realm,” you said bitterly. “Where fairness is made up, and the points don’t matter!”

You heard him snort from behind the cheap wicker door. You couldn’t help but look down at his feet as he slipped them out of Joey’s shoes and into the second hand brown leather boots, ugly but sturdy, and with plenty of wear left. His feet were somehow as beautiful as you’d imagined.

You leaned against the wall next to the changing area with a barely audible sigh. You mumbled under your breath a single word: “pathetic.” Meanwhile, OMC’s ‘How Bizarre’ was playing overhead, and you couldn’t help but smile at the appropriate sentiment.

“It just so happens,” Loki went on, “That I fully intend to get it back without handing over a single credit.”

You were fighting the urge to ‘accidentally’ open the door as soon as you saw the precinct’s old slacks fall to Loki’s ankles.

“How?” you asked. “Loki doesn’t exist here. People will think you’re insane.”

“Well, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim doesn’t exist on your plane…but the actor who portrays him does, yes?”

“I see, we’re going to commit a little light identity theft today. Now there’s a Loki move,” you admitted. “You’re going to get along with Joey just fine.”

The door opened, and Loki stepped out in a long-sleeved t-shirt in black that may have been a size too small. The jeans you’d picked were dark and stiff at the knee, but the cut still flattered the god’s glorious behind.

It was such a simple ensemble, but you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him.

“Does this look like something this fellow would wear?” he smiled and threw out his arms, modeling the entire look for you with a flashy spin. “How do I look?”

“It’s absolutely not something he’d be caught dead in,” you said woefully. “But it’s the best we’ve got.”

Loki looked down and scoffed. “Perhaps a jacket? Or a robe?”

A robe!

The only jacket in the store that fit Loki was a black leather jacket, so instead of the black undershirt, you got one in dark green to give a little bit of color to the look. Once you were back on the street, you headed southward toward the Valley, where the pawn shop sat kitty-corner to an ice cream stand called Gannon’s. It took about forty minutes at a medium pace to get there, and by the time you did, the afternoon was maturing.

Kit’s Pawn Shop was about the size of a gas station, and a single decaying pickup was sitting in the three-spot parking lot in front.

You turned to one another at the same time, both of you saying “follow my lead” at once.

Loki looked at you oddly. “It was my idea!”

“You don’t even know how electrical outlets work in this world, how are you going to work a scam with a guy like this?” you replied.

“I am the God of Mischief, after all!” Loki said defensively.

“Not in this reality, you aren’t!” you argued.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’re a spitfire for sure. Very well, we’ll try it your way.”

“Good. Just act like a snob. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

Even when it was at his expense, Loki was amused by your jab. He straightened his posture and folded his hands in front of him as if he was about to begin a business deal. “Shall we?”

You sucked in a breath and paused for a moment before purposefully shoving the door in with more force than was normal, announcing your presence to the shop with a large “THUMP!” followed by the ringing of the cheap aluminum doorbell. You were instantly accosted by the musty odor of stale cigarette smoke embedded in cheap carpet.

“Be out in a sec!” called a rough voice from beyond your line of sight.

“No, we need you now!” Loki said loudly, adding a phony posh accent to his demand.

You shot him a dirty look. “Don’t press your luck before we’ve even spun the wheel!” you whispered.

The voice was coming from behind a beaded curtain. “Oh well, tough on you, Harry Potter,” grumbled the raspy voice. “I’m doing business on the damn phone!”

You rolled your eyes. “Guess we browse while we wait?”

The shelves behind the glass counter displayed various random items: television sets with cracked screens, vintage posters and newspapers immortalized in laminating plastic, a few toys that looked old enough to have been decorated in lead paint, and a few luxurious hats set awkwardly on white, expressionless heads. Under the counter glass were strings of pearls and gold, a few gems loosely set into tarnished silver rings, and three small pistols lined up under a sign saying “See Management.”

A necklace caught your eye. The pendant was a silver rectangle, and on it, a very small image of a woman looking upward at a sapphire embedded at the top near a roman numeral ‘XVII’. AT the bottom, two barely-readable words were engraved underneath the pretty girl: The Star.

It reminded you of your mother, who had a deck of old tarot cards she played divination games with herself. She would give you and your brother pretend future readings every New Year, while being mindful of making sure even the scariest-looking cards had a positive twist on their meanings so as not to frighten you. Once, she had said The Star would be a prestigious card in your life: one of enduring hope even in hard times.

You hadn’t detected Loki coming up behind you. “It’s lovely,” he remarked. “You should have it.”

“It’s fifty bucks,” you grumbled, quickly moving away and pretending you weren’t dying inside to have it.

“Now, who’s asking for me?” barked Kit, coming out and going behind the counter without looking at you. He was short and hairy, exactly as you’d pictured him.

“Me….Me!” said Loki, standing up straight again.

“Yeah, what can I do for you, Harry Potter?” snarked the crabby old man.

“That isn’t my name, it’s Lo---Tom. Don't you recognize me?”

Kit snorted. “Sweetheart, I’m so high right now I barely recognize my reflection.”

Loki wrinkled his nose in disapproval. You stepped forward, pulling out your cheap phone and quickly pulling up the first picture of Tom Hiddleston you could find: one where he was performing a deep lunge while wearing a soccer uniform.

“He’s Tom-MOTHERFUCKING-Hiddleston, and you have something of his,” you answered. “I’m his agent…Jane Smith.”

“Agent? Oh yeah,” Kit said, leaning down and squinting to look at the photo before looking up at Loki again. “Well, shit. Guess you are.”

Oh, praise every god and creature that he’s stoned, you thought.

“What? You want something? I can give you a great deal on anything in the store!” Kit’s demeanor almost immediately changed after connecting the dots. “Looking for a gun to fight off the fans? Or are you looking for something shiny to impress some model?”

“Last night, Abe came in here with a green stone,” you said quickly. “It wasn’t his to sell to you, and I would like it back now, if you don't mind.”

Kit looked up at the ceiling, taking a few awkwardly-silent moments to dig through the foggy recesses of his memory. “Oh yeah, the ruby!”

“Oh, it isn’t--”

Kit immediately went behind him, took something out of a small chest on a shield, and plopped a shiny green rock in front of you.

“That’s it!” said Loki, going to pick it up. Kit swiped it back first.

“Two hundred for the ruby,” he said simply.

Protesting, you balled your hands in stress. “TWO HUNDRED?? It’s the size of a popcorn shrimp!”

“Rubies aren’t green, you ass,” Loki hissed, his own attitude darkening.

“Listen lady, I’d like to kiss your actor-friend’s ass, but business has been slow this month, and I got rent, you know? I was going to price this at five hundred, actually.”

“I can give you a thousand,” Loki said as if bidding at an auction.

“Oh?” asked Kit, perking up again.

“I find myself a bit stranded at the moment,” Loki added, “And I’m afraid we have no money on us. But once I get back to my hotel room, I can return with the payment, but I do need that stone now.”

You growled and pounded the counter with your fist, “He’ll plug you at the Emmys next year! Think about it…Kit’s Pawn Shop being announced by name just before Best Actor! Your business will explode so fast, you’ll need another store!”

Kit seemed to consider this. “Well…you do look like him a little too much for doubt,” he reasoned through his fog. “You sure you’ll come back?”

“Yes!” you both said a little too quickly. Luckily, this didn’t arouse any further suspicion in the shop owner. He twisted his lip, looking back and forth from one to the other. “I fucking can’t believe I’m doing this.” He gently nudged the pebble over the counter at Loki.

“And also, that pendant!” Loki added, pointing to the tarot necklace you’d been admiring. “I’d like you to give me that as well.”

You opened your mouth, “Oh that isn’t--”

But Kit was already taking the piece out and setting it onto the counter. “Anything else, Mr. Hiddleston?”

Loki raised his nose. “No, I believe that will be all,” he smirked, looking down and winking at you.

Quickly gathering up the stone and the pendant, Loki led you out of the store before the grumpy shopkeep could change his mind. When you were across the road, and in the parking lot at Gannon’s, you let out a relieved laugh, which helped Loki relax.

“I believe that man would have given me the shirt off his back,” said Loki with a sigh of relief. “That was a good idea, Y/N.”

“Loki! You were such a good actor,” you praised, the adrenaline bringing down your normal filter and freeing you to speak your mind more liberally. “Christ, I can’t believe that worked! You’re amazing!”

“Now, look, Y/N!” he said, holding out his palm, the stone flickering a bright green light as it re-attuned to its handler. You had nothing to say as you watched him fiddle a little with the glowing green pebble. It looked like a perfect representation of the Time Stone, and therefore, there was no denying it any longer.

Loki lowered his voice to an intimate whisper, leaning into your face so close that you could feel his cool breath on your neck. You hoped that he didn’t notice it was giving you goosebumps.

“Y/N, do you believe who I am now?” he asked, slipping his free hand under yours and letting you hold the stone. It went out as soon as it left Loki’s hand, becoming an ordinary rock once more.

You looked up into his beautiful soft blue eyes, looking at you with pleading prayer. You closed your hand around the stone. “Yes, Loki. I do.”

“Good girl,” he replied, taking the tarot necklace out of his pocket and untangling it, displaying its full beauty. “And, as a thanks for getting me this far…”

“...normally, I’d tell you to take it back, I don’t need it,” you said sternly. “It’s not necessary.”

Loki moved behind you and placed the chain about your neck gently. “I noticed you admiring it. It means something to you, I think.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Then, after all you’ve done for me thus far, I insist you have it,” he asserted as he clasped the pendant shut and slowly turned you around by the shoulder to examine it. “Silver suits you.”

The metal was cool against your skin, and you were silently trying to command yourself to be still and ignore the tenderness of the gesture. It was almost impossible. Your little fangirl heart hummed with joy. “Loki…this is…thank you.” You looked up at him, somehow managing to keep composure. “And I promise I’ll do everything that I can to get you back to where you belong.”

Loki smiled down at you. “I know.”

“...and,” you continued after a dramatic pause, smirking and taking a step back. “I might know a way.”

With the last ten dollars in your pocket, you bought ice cream cones for the pair of you. It would be a nearly ninety minute walk to your apartment on the other end of town, and the day was waning, but still hot. While you walked at a meager pace in order to conserve your remaining energy, you explained to Loki the extraordinary story of another man who found himself in the same situation.

“So, this Doctor is one of the most famous figures in television,” Loki repeated as you passed downtown and the halfway point of your walk. “And a man appears out of nowhere, resembling him perfectly, claiming to be him…yet he doesn’t present any proof?”

You shook your head. “Which is why everyone thinks he’s a nut. He’s brought people out to see the TARDIS, but he refuses to open the door for anyone but himself. Claims it’s too broken and unstable.”

“How long has he been here?” Loki asked.

“Maybe three months. There was a media storm around it for about five minutes. Then some politico got assassinated and they all moved on.”

“Y/N, at the TVA, I learned a lot about timelines, temporal looms, all of it. I think it means all of reality is in danger if I don't return to my place in time,” he added, his voice tinged with regret. “In this world, nothing is possible except in the minds of people, and yet fictional figures are coming to life. Perhaps its a sign that the timelines are crashing into one another…tangling and tying together…bringing different existences together.”

“I’ll pretend I understood that,” you remarked, turning the corner onto your street.

“There is one way I can think of to save all of us…well, all of you,” he concluded, stopping in his tracks as the disturbing thought invaded his senses. “I have the power to strengthen them again and keep them at bay, at dire cost.”

You turned back to help him. “Not now, ok? Let’s see if this wild idea of mine works.”

“Right…going to see The Doctor,” the God recited. “How soon can we leave?”

You shook your head, your apartment finally visible at the end of the block. “After I get paid next week. If I tell Joey to save his tips, we may be able to book three cheap tickets on a ramshackle airline out there.”

“I don;’t think that will be fast enough!” Loki threw up his arms in distress. “This will only get worse and worse until everything is destroyed!”

“And I thought my therapist was a pessimist,” you quipped. “Look, you can’t just show your face and have everything handed to you around here, Loki.”

“It’s already worked once,” he reasoned, crossing the street with you toward the apartment.

“It won’t always.”

Loki exhaled stressfully. “Perhaps there is something I can do to help speed things up.”

Walking with him up to the back door and taking out your keys, you thought about it for a moment. “Maybe if I take you to the bookstore with me tomorrow, Mrs. Graves will let you do some handiwork for a few extra bucks.”

He smiled. “Good, good, because even if it isn’t showing yet, I am beginning to get this feeling.”

“Feeling? Like what?” you asked as you opened the door and ushered your charge inside.

“As if the air is getting denser, more packed in. Like the potential for chaos is increasing around us with every passing second of inaction,” Loki said quietly but frantically.

“That’s just summer in the city,” you answered. “And you’re an agent of chaos, if I recall, so of course it’s getting a little crazy in here” you added a wink to punctuate it.

“No, no, you don’t--”

“--Joey?”

It was past the usual hour for Joey to leave for work at the bar, yet as you walked in with Loki, he was lounging on your Goodwill couch, watching highlights of a college football game that had taken place last night. When you came in, he sat up to attention.

“Oh, Sis, where’ve you been?” he asked, a yawn rolling out behind his greeting.

“We’ve found something important. And we’ve decided we’re going to fly out to London and see this alleged Doctor,” you declared. “It’s really the only hand we have, isn’t it?”

Joey sighed and shook his head. “We have no money, Y/N.”

“We can fly Craptasmic Airlines if we pull your tips next week with my paycheck,” you described, only to have Joey immediately deny your idea. He slowly stumbled to his feet and approached you in the entryway. Loki scrunched his nose.

Joey smelled of beer. “I got fired today, Sis. I got the call about an hour ago,” he said. “None of us are going anywhere.”

TAGLIST: @crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter@mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl@holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73@lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog

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campbyler · 22 days

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quick question: what do the party's phones and phone lockscreens look like? maybe a description perhaps :D i can totally see will's being some fanart either he drew or someone else drew

ohhh such a fun question!! i am answering without suni's input but hopefully she agrees and if she doesn't she can come fight me in a rb idc 🥊

it was mentioned briefly in ch01, but el's background is wildflowers!! for sure a picture that she took. i think that after ch09 she changes it to a picture of an animal she took at the zoo! but i think that she always has pics that are Hers bc she likes to have that personal touch. i am sure that the rest of the party has featured in her lock/home screens as well!

not to #expose max as #sentimental but she definitelyyy has a picture of her and lucas as her lockscreen and then one of her and el and will as her homescreen ❤️

i think lucas just has Max for Both his lock and home screen bc one thing abt lucas is he's obsessed w his girlfriend. and also doesn't care tht much out the customization of it all. but i do think he has focus lockscreens for school and practice and has uconn/husky logos lest he be distracted by his beautiful girlfriend <3

dustin is chaotic and absolutely has the emoji lockscreens that came with one of the newer updates in the last year but it's an emoji combo that makes no sense to anyone but him. like 🧸🗿🥪

mike is a little harder to pin down for me 🧍‍♂️i think probably a picture of a pretty spot of camp whiteman or a place on brown's campus -- something that makes him happy to look at!!

for willlllll i don't think he would be likeee. Brave enough to have his own art as his lockscreen but i think he would for sure have his favorite painting as it, or a design he liked from an artist he follows...i feel like his lock and homescreen are very meticulously curated and he has different icons for his apps to match his theme and is just very specific about everything!

#asks #acswy reference

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babybluebex · 1 month

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BEX I HAVE A THOUGHT

so there’s this Photo from when dommy went to the sag awards this year:

and all i can think about is your blurb abt “the scene” and like

What If yall’s film was nominated for an award and y’all are on the carpet . the look he’d give you as he’s watching you get interviewed n stuff?.? like the proud smile AGH

anyways this is the thought from 1am my time gn <3

oh yes, i can see you guys being in a very steady and good relationship ever since your first night together, but not announcing your relationship to the public, and that's pretty much your "fault", you wanted to try to get people in the industry to take you seriously and not think you're just some little girl who falls in love with the first guy to look at you, and dom understands your reservations, so you two haven't announced anything

but that definitely doesn't mean that you escape suspicion, you're always spotted out at lunch or at pubs together, basically attached at the hip the whole time, and paps notice the way dom will play with your hair or your skirt, basically the way he can get handsy, and somehow the popular narrative becomes that you two are fwbs and not actually dating

but YES the movie starts to get a lot of critical acclaim, but most of it is pointed specifically at YOU, people LOVE your performance and say that it's the best performance they've seen in years, and you're getting nominated for a bunch of "best actress" awards at various shows and you start WINNING?? and you're always sitting next to dom, and he has to REALLY exercise control when you win, he wants to just grab you and kiss you but he knows you're not comfortable with that yet, so it's just a gentle hug and good-natured pat on the back

but he's pulling THAT exact face in the bg of you being interviewed about your historic run of wins, like he's not exactly in frame of the camera but people find another angle of the interview that shows him better and he's just cheesing up a storm

and oh my god, the night before the academy awards, you're nominated for best actress and dom is for best supporting actor, and the odds are looking in your favors, but you're crying on dom's chest, so terrified about what will happen if you win, you're scared that it means you've peaked and will never have anything like this again

and dom shushes you and kisses your teary cheeks, "shh, honey, it's ok... look, i got you a present, do you wanna see it? i wasn't gonna give it to you until tomorrow night, after we've both won, but i can give it to you now" and he rolls out of bed and pulls his pajama pants up his skinny hips as he goes to his luggage, and he grabs a small box from his suitcase and gives it to you, and you sniffle as you open it, and you first come across a flannel buttoned shirt, and you instantly recognize it "... this is the shirt you wore—" "to the bar our first night together," dom nods, "what was that... two years ago, i guess? but i hardly wear it because it used to smell like the perfume you wore that night... it doesn't so much anymore, but it's still sentimental to me. but i want you to have it" "oh, dom, i can't—" "yes you can" and he nods at the box "there's more in there, go on"

and you move back into the box and push aside the paper filling up the empty space, and you find a delicate box in the bottom, obviously a jewelry box, and your mouth goes dry, bc it's a small square box and you know what that means and you sorta whisper "dominic?" and his eyes are sparkling as he gently takes the ring box into his hand and opens it, and you gasp

the ring is beautiful, your dream ring, and you harken back to a few months before, when bella had asked you to help her pick out an engagement ring, and you had given opinions the whole day, but under the pretense of helping her, what cut you liked and what gemstone, and it suddenly clicks into place: bella, the absolute sneak, had colluded with dom to figure out what your perfect engagement ring was "oh my god, dommy, yes"

"i didn't even ask you anything" dom smiles with playfully narrowed eyes "but i know what you're gonna say, and fuck, yes" you sob and grab him tight and draw him into a hug, and he kisses you and fumbles blindly to put the ring on your finger

and the next night, you're all dressed up for the oscars, and vanity fair is there to make a video on dom getting ready, and they tell you that it'll come out after the awards show, and you and dom are free to be a cheesy annoying engaged couple because you've already decided exactly how and when you're going to announce it that night

and it comes time for the awards show, you're all sitting together, you and dom and your director (who was nominated for best director), and best supporting actor comes up first (not the first award, but out of the nominations y'all have, it comes first in the night), and your heart is in your throat as they flash up clips from the movies of each actor, and you notice the cheering is just a little louder when dom's clip is onscreen, and you think you actually pass out when the announcer calls out "dominic sessa!" but you're drawn right back to reality by dom grabbing you and hugging you, and your mouth is just gaping like a fish, unable to form words as you grab his face and tear up, and you want to kiss him, but you can't, not quite yet

he gets up to the stage, and he does his little gasping laugh "oh wow..." gazes lovingly at the oscar statue in his hand "this thing is heavier than i thought it would be..." and the whole audience laughs "but um, this is an honor... i sorta stumbled into this field— literally, actually, i stumbled, i fell and broke my leg and couldn't do sports, so i decided to try acting on a whim, and— whatever, but this was never the plan for me, but this award is... it means a lot..." and he takes a breath and squints in the stage lights to find you and he smiles "i think actors are defined by certain roles in their lifetimes... pacino as corleone, schwarzenegger as the terminator... and even though this role will always have a special place in my heart, the role i think most defines me... is the role of husband. and for that, i have to thank my beautiful wife, and by extension, our director and screenwriter and casting director, if you guys hadn't put her in my life, i wouldn't have her, and that role means more to my heart than anything else does... oh, shi— crap, they're telling me to wrap it up, haha. anyway, yeah, um, wife, director, crew, my other actors, the academy, and, um, is ryan gosling here this year? yeah, you're cool too"

and he gets offstage and comes to you, and you finally FINALLY get to kiss him, and you see the cameras starting to swarm you, and you take care to put your hand on his face, to let everyone see the ring

and now that the cat's out of the bag, you're not afraid to be loving and cute together, and your director wins her award, and you get a notification on your phone that your movie is trending online, associated with "SWEEP!!", and suddenly the pressure starts to gnaw at you and your stomach turns, but your fiancé is luckily very in tune with you, and he gets up and leaves for the bar in the back of the room and quickly returns with a small glass of ginger ale and rubs your back as he whispers "hey, you're gonna be ok, it's all gonna be fine" "dommy i don't wanna win" you whimper and he shushes you "well, honey, i'm gonna be honest here, i think you are gonna win" dom tells you "i don't think you have a choice, so what you're gonna do, when they call your name, all you gotta do is just go up there, and look at me. don't look at the cameras, don't look at margot robbie or anyone, just look at me" "what happens if i puke?" you whisper "i'll clean it up" dom says instantly, without a single thought "wh-what happens if i can't talk up there?" you ask, and you're certain dom's patience is wearing thin, but if it is, he's not letting it show even remotely "i'll talk for you" dom says, and gently urges you to sip your drink to calm your stomach "look, you are amazing, you deserve this award— if they gave my untalented ass a fucking oscar, then you are way more qualified to win than i am— and winning doesn't mean you've peaked. it means it's just beginning" and he shifts a little closer to you and pushes your hair behind your ear, and he whispers "tell you what— if you get on that stage and thank only the academy and then immediately leave, if that's all you do... i'll eat you out in the car on the way to the after party. deal?" and you sniffle and give a weak laugh, but you nod at him, and he grins "i mean, i'd do that anyway, but if that's the incentive you need..."

and the lights dim to signal the end of commercial break, and you feel sick the whole time as they're announcing the nominees for best actor, and you're so acutely aware of the big camera rig next to you, capturing your every reaction, and you go hot when they flash the clip of you and you notice the louder cheers, just like before

and you must have been too busy trying not to throw up that you didn't even hear your name announced, you just hear the cheering, and suddenly dom's got his hands on you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you, and you just feel numb, but your feet work you up to the stage and you're handed the statue, and you look out past the lights and the audience full of industry giants, and you lock eyes with dom and you swallow thickly "... why is this so goddamn heavy..." you mumble and there's laughter "baby, you could've told me" and dom grins and shrugs "i just... really don't know what to say... um... thank you to the academy, who thought i'm worthy of this.... and my husband said that's all i gotta say, so i think i'm gonna go before i puke everywhere"

and you get back to your seat, and you feel a lot better now that it's over, and dom kisses you so sweetly, and you two goofs continue your goof streak and make your oscars kiss like barbie dolls

(and dom makes good on the promise he made hehe)

#bex answers #thekid-ofsteel #dominic sessa x reader

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