#and i’m not like oh i hate her now i just think it’s okay to criticise how this was handled

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 23

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando had seen Lizzie nervous before—before a book signing, even before their first public appearance together—but this was an entirely new level. She was sitting in the passenger seat, gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly that he was surprised the fabric hadn’t ripped yet.

“Lizzie,” he said gently.

She exhaled sharply. “Lando, I don’t think you understand. Your sisters have read my books.”

“Yeah, they love them.”

“That’s the problem!” She turned to him, eyes wide with panic. “What if your mum has read them? What if she’s read the spicy parts? Lando, I wrote those scenes!”

He tried—he really did—to keep a straight face, but a laugh escaped before he could stop it. “Liz, I hate to break it to you, but my mum is a grown woman who had four kids. She’s not going to combust if she reads a bit of smut.”

Lizzie looked at him like he’d just blasphemed. “That’s your mum! God, Lando, you’re missing the point.”

“Oh, I have a point,” he said, still trying not to laugh. “And that point is, you’re making this way too big a deal.”

She scowled at him, whacking him with the back of her hand. “You’re being extremely unhelpful right now.”

He caught her hand, grinning. “Hey, I’m just providing perspective. But if you want to keep being nervous on your own, be my guest.”

Lizzie huffed but didn’t pull away from his grip. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying my freaking out?”

He squeezed her hand, still amused. “Because it’s entertaining to watch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the effect was diminished by the way she was worrying her bottom lip. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Lando bit back a smirk, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. “Maybe I am.”

“Your dad is a millionaire, Lando,” she muttered as they pulled into the driveway. “What if he thinks I’m using you for your money?”

Lando couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “What?”

Lizzie huffed, glaring at him. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s a valid concern!”

He tried—and failed—to regain his composure. “You’re worried my dad is going to think you’re a gold digger?”

Lizzie nodded, looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. Lando bit back another laugh, shaking his head. “Liz, love, you really worry too much.”

“I’m serious, Lando!” she protested. “People talk, okay? And with your family’s background, I can’t blame them. How am I supposed to convince them that I’m not just some fangirl with a talent for writing dirty scenes?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I am,“ she whispered.

“Come on,” he coaxed, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “They already love you.”

“They don’t know me.”

“They know of you. And they’re excited to meet you properly. Trust me, they’re more likely to make me uncomfortable than you.”

Lizzie lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

Lando smirked. “Because they’re probably going to tell you all the embarrassing things I did as a kid.”

That seemed to help—at least a little. She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “If they bring out baby photos, I’m taking pictures.”

“Traitor.”

“Survival.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before unbuckling his seatbelt.

Lizzie did the same, taking a deep breath. When Lando walked over to her side of the car and held out his hand, she took it, gripping it tightly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, but she climbed out of the car anyway.

Mara jumped out of the backseat with a wagging tail, immediately tucking herself against Lizzie's side.

Lizzie laughed, giving the dog a quick scratch on the head. Lando watched her intently, noticing how tense she still was.

He moved forward, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Breathe,” he told her softly.

She let out a shaky exhale, leaning into his touch. "I'm trying," she muttered, sounding a little less nervous.

They began the short walk toward the door, Mara trotting happily ahead of them. Lando could feel Lizzie trembling a little under his touch.

“Remember," he murmured against her ear, "they’re going to be just as nervous as you, if not more."

Lizzie shot him a disbelieving look but didn’t have time to say anything as the door swung open.

The front door opened before they even reached it. His mum stood there, beaming, and before Lizzie could get a word out, Cisca pulled her into a warm hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

Lizzie tensed for a split second, then melted. “You too, Mrs. Norris. Thank you for having me.”

“Cisca,” his mum corrected, stepping back. “And please, we’ve been waiting for ages to meet you. Lando keeps you all to himself.”

Lizzie shot Lando a look, and he just grinned. “Told you.”

His mother stepped back, still smiling. “Well, now that I’ve got you in person, it makes sense why Lando's been so distracted." She cast a sly glance in Lando's direction. He just rolled his eyes.

"Mum," he said, a warning tone to his voice.

His mother just laughed, patting his cheek affectionately. “Oh, don’t you mum me.” She turned back to Lizzie, linking their arms together. “Now, come on. We’ve got lunch ready.”

Lando let them walk ahead, watching how easily his mum settled Lizzie. Even when he was a kid, his mum had always had a way of making people feel comfortable. Now, it seemed Lizzie was on the receiving end of that skill.

They headed inside, the rest of the family waiting in the living room. They all stood when they entered, and though Lando wasn’t surprised to see the eager curiosity on their faces, he still shot them a warning look. His brother in particular looked like he was preparing to say or do anything to embarrass him.

“Finally!” Oliver stood , arms crossed, grinning like an idiot. “The Elizabeth Treshton, in the flesh. Lando has been hoarding you." His brother wasted no time. “Alright,, I have questions,” he announced brightly. “First of all, how did this idiot pull you? Second, how long did it take before you realized he’s an absolute menace? Third—”

Adam Norris appeared in the doorway, shaking his head fondly. “Leave her alone, Oliver.”

Oliver just grinned. “No can do, Dad. She willingly signed up for Lando. I need answers.”

Adam shot Lando a look. “You should’ve known bringing her here would be opening her up to interrogation.”

Lizzie was trying hard not to laugh, but her eyes were sparkling. Lando couldn’t tell if that was from nerves or amusement.

"I have questions!" And there was his youngest sister. He should have known that neither Flo or Cisca were going to be normal.

"Of course you do," Lando muttered.

Flo ignored him and beamed at Lizzie. “I have questions too!"

His mother rolled her eyes at her children, stepping forward. “How about we hold off on the interrogation until after lunch?” She placed a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, offering the slightest bit of reprieve. “I think poor Lizzie here needs a moment to readjust before we barrage her with questions.”

"But I have book questions!" Flo said quickly.

"And you can ask those during lunch," His mother assured her, steering Lizzie away. "Give the girl a chance to breathe."

"Fine, fine," Oliver said, flopping back onto the couch like a disgruntled teenager.

Adam chuckled. “Maybe try not to scare the poor woman off in the first five minutes?”

"Oh, no worries there," Oliver drawled. "She put up with Lando, right? Everything else will be a breeze."

Lando just rolled his eyes.

Adam laughed, clapping Lando on the back. “Don’t act like that comment wasn’t 100% accurate.”

Lizzie slipped right in the midst of his family, like she always had belonged there. Keeping up with his sisters' rapid-fire Q and A, his very fascinated toddler niece who kept staring at Mara, who sat next to Lizzie, as well-behaved as always...

It was almost surreal to watch the scene unfold. Lizzie was already comfortable with his family, chatting and laughing, easily deflecting questions and answering others. Even his sisters had given up their attempts at embarrassing him, too interested in Lizzie to bother with him now.

He watched all this, trying to keep the smile off his face. It wasn’t until his dad walked over and stood next to him did Lando realize he hadn’t said anything in a while.

Adam clapped Lando on the back, his tone warm. “You picked a good one, son.”

Lando’s chest filled with quiet pride as he watched Lizzie laugh at something Flo had said.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I really did.”

He should have known that something was going to go wrong.

It started with Mara.

She’d been lying calmly at Lizzie’s feet one second, then suddenly sprang up, ears perked, tail stiff. She nudged Lizzie’s leg with her nose, then her arm. Insistent. Focused.

Lizzie stilled.

Lando was already frowning. “Liz?”

She exhaled slowly, looking down at Mara before turning toward him. “I’m going to have a seizure.”

Just like that. Simple. Direct. As if she were telling him it might rain later.

Lando shot to his feet. “What—what do I—”

A tense silence fell across the room as the others picked up on the situation. Lizzie reached out, fingers skimming Mara’s head as she struggled to keep her breaths even. She was already pale, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on her forehead.

His mum was the first to recover, her expression calm but her voice sharp. "How do you want to handle this, sweetheart?"

"I need to go lay down," Lizzie said, her voice careful. "I should have a few minutes until it hits."

Everyone else was still reeling, frozen in shock, but Lando’s mind snapped into focus. “Right. Yeah. Come on.”

He crossed the room, gently tugging Lizzie to her feet. She leaned on him, her weight a little heavier than usual.

“Lando,” Adam said, “we can—”

“I’ve got it,” he said, cutting his dad off. He shifted Lizzie’s weight, supporting her as best he could. “Just...give us some space, okay?”

His dad nodded, clearly wanting to say more, but holding back for Lizzie's sake. Lando appreciated the effort.

He half-carried Lizzie out the door, Mara sticking close to them. The dog knew as well as Lando did – something was wrong.

The walk to his old room felt like it took an eternity.

As soon as they reached it, Lizzie was already moving, sinking down to the floor like she’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe she had.

"What do you need?" he asked her, sawllowing.

“Nothing,” she said. “You don’t have to do anything.” She stretched out, lying flat on her side, arms loose, legs bent just slightly. Mara settled near her head, pressed close but not touching.

Lando hated how practiced it was.

His pulse hammered in his throat. He dropped down beside her, panic clawing at his ribs. “Lizzie—”

“If you can’t watch it, I get it,” she murmured, voice calm, even as something flickered in her expression. “But don’t touch me.”

Lando’s hands clenched into fists.

“I— I can watch,” he said, even though his entire body screamed otherwise. “I’m not leaving you.”

Lizzie managed a weak smile, but her eyes were already going glassy. "Okay," she whispered. "But don't blame yourself." And then her breath hitched, and her body began to tremble.

And then she was gone.

Her body tensed, jerking suddenly, violently. Her hands curled, fingers twitching erratically. Lando could hear her breathing shift—harsh, uneven. It was awful.

He dug his nails into his palms, forcing himself to stay still, to stay calm.

It felt like forever.

In reality, it was barely a minute.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Lizzie sagged against the floor, still, quiet except for her uneven breaths. Mara whined softly, nuzzling against her arm.

Lando moved carefully, shifting onto his knees.

“Liz?” he asked, voice tight. “Can you hear me?”

A long pause. Then, a weak murmur: “Mm. Hate that part.”

Relief hit him so hard he nearly choked on it. He exhaled sharply, pressing a shaking hand over his face. “Yeah,” he said, voice thick. “Me too.”

Lizzie cracked one eye open, exhausted but there. “You okay?”

Lando let out a strangled laugh. “Am I okay?”

Lizzie blinked at him like it was a genuine question.

“Jesus Christ, Lizzie.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That was awful.”

She hummed, voice drowsy. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t—don’t apologize—”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

Lando swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Okay. But I still hate it.”

Lizzie sighed, shifting slightly, her limbs sluggish. “Me too.”

He watched as Mara pressed in closer, her body warm against Lizzie’s side. Lando reached out slowly, brushing damp hair away from Lizzie’s forehead.

She leaned into the touch, just barely.

Lando swallowed hard. “You’re okay,” he murmured.

Lizzie didn’t answer—already half-asleep in the aftermath.

But she was breathing.

She was safe.

And he would make sure she always stayed that way.

He wasn't sure how much time went by, but eventually, soft footsteps sounded at the doorway. He glanced up to see his mum standing there, her face pale, expression carefully neutral. She took in the situation for a moment, her eyes lingering on Lizzie before looking to Lando. There was a silent question on her face, and Lando nodded to her. She exhaled softly, nodding to herself, before speaking quietly.

"Is she alright?"

Lando's voice felt like gravel in his throat. "She's fine. She'll probably sleep for awhile."

His mum stepped more into the room, taking in the sight of Lizzie on the floor. A deep frown pinched her brow, like she was trying to hold back her emotions.

Lando looked back at Lizzie, reaching out and brushing his fingers gently over her damp hair. Just the sight of her sleeping peacefully was enough to soothe some of the wild panic from earlier, but his heart still ached.

"Does...has this happened before?" His mum's voice was quiet and careful, as if she were worried about upsetting him.

"I've never seen it," he admitted weakly. "I knew she had epilepsy. I have seen her after a seizure...but I never saw her seize," Lando admitted, swallowing. "How can a mother see this and then decide to leave?"

"Lando..." his mum's voice was gentle, almost like she was bracing him for something.

Lando's heart felt heavy. "I just don't understand how someone could—" he cut himself off when his voice broke, trying again. "I don't understand how someone could just leave their child like that."

His mum crossed the room, sitting beside him and pressing a hand to his shoulder. "I don't think most people will ever be able to understand that, hon. I can't," she admitted freely. "If I imagine that it's Flo or Cisca in her place...nobody would have gotten me away from my daughter," his mother said fiercely.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, his voice tight. "That's because you wouldn't leave her," he said, voice low. "You'd never go without her. You'd fight to stay every step of the way. And you sure as hell wouldn't give up on her."

There was a beat as he stared at the floor, and he barely registered his mum wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She pulled him into a tight hug, and he couldn't help but bury his face against her shoulder, eyes stinging.

His breath hitched. "I just... I can't imagine just walking away from her."

"Then don't," his mother said simply. "Don't be like her mother. Don't walk away. Talk with her and the next time it will happen, it will still feel horrid. You'll never get used to it. But you'll learn to live with it."

The words hit Lando like a weight to the chest. For a moment, he just sat there, absorbing them. His first instinct was to disagree. He would never, ever be like Lizzie’s mother. He could never abandon her like that.

But then...

His mum was right. He'd never get used to the idea of him just standing by and watching while she suffered. No matter how many times he would see her seize, it would still be torture for him.

But this wasn’t about him. 

This was about Lizzie. Lizzie, who needed to live with an invisible illness that could be controlled to the best of modern medicine's knowledge, but never cured completely.

And Lando would rather live through the torture of seeing her have a seizure a hundred times than to let her go. To leave. To let her deal with it alone. 

***

Lizzie woke up feeling like she’d been wrung out, every muscle sore and heavy, her head pounding with the dull, familiar ache of exhaustion. She blinked at the ceiling, willing herself to move, but even that felt like too much effort.

Then she remembered.

Lando.

The seizure.

How he’d seen it—how he’d stayed.

Her stomach twisted.

Carefully, she turned her head.

Lando was lying on his side, facing her. He was awake. Had he even slept? His hair was an absolute mess, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, studying her closely.

Lizzie had always known this moment would come.

She’d warned Lando about it early on—matter-of-factly, no dramatics. She had epilepsy. She had seizures.

But knowing about something and seeing it were two very different things.

And she’d lost people to the latter before.

Her mother couldn’t handle it. The fear, the helplessness, the exhaustion of watching and not being able to do anything. It was too much. So she left.

Lizzie didn’t blame her.

But she also knew what it felt like to be too much for someone to love.

Lando held her gaze, the silence stretching painfully between them.

She swallowed hard, bracing for it - the looks of concern, the pity, the thinly veiled excuses.

Then Lando spoke, his voice rough and quiet.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I lost a fight with a freight train.”

Lando’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I figured.”

The silence between them was heavy.

Lizzie forced herself to push up onto her elbows, ignoring the way her body protested. “Lando—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving her. “Stop talking.”

She went silent, staring at him. His gaze was like a steady weight, pinning her in place.

He inhaled slowly, as if steeling himself.

“I’m not going anywhere, Liz.”

Her breath caught. She'd been bracing herself for rejection, for distance. For fear and confusion and pity.

But Lando was just...looking at her. Just like that. Not like she was broken. Not like she was different now. He was just looking at her.

“You’re not?” Her voice was a whisper, vulnerable and terrified in spite of herself.

He shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Something stirred in her chest. Hope, maybe.

Or maybe it was something else.

She swallowed, trying to get control of her emotions. “Most people don’t stick around after they see it.”

Something flickered across his face—something sharp, something angry. “Well, they’re idiots.”

Lizzie huffed a small, tired laugh. “Maybe.”

Lando shifted closer, hesitating before reaching out. His fingers brushed lightly over her wrist, careful, almost hesitant.

“Did it scare you?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers curled around her hand, grounding both of them. “I hated seeing you like that,” he admitted, voice low. “Knowing and seeing aren’t the same thing.”

She sighed, exhaustion pressing against her bones. “No. They’re not.”

Lando shifted again, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. “Your mum couldn’t handle it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Lizzie swallowed. “No.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then—“I’m not her.”

Lizzie’s chest ached, and not from the seizure.

“I know.”

Lando’s fingers squeezed hers. “Do you?”

She let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good.” His voice softened, but the weight of his words remained. “Because I need you to believe that I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes stung with held-back tears. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Lando’s expression remained steady, but she could see the determination in his eyes. "I do know that,” he said softly. “I know me, Liz. How I feel. What I can handle. And I can tell you with complete certainty that I’m not leaving. You can’t get rid of me now even if you tried.”

She tried to keep her voice steady, but her breath hitched on a stifled sob. “What if it changes though? What if one day you can’t—”

“Liz.” He cut her off, his tone firm but not unkind. “Stop it. Stop worrying about what-ifs. This is my choice. I’m staying. End of story.”

“But—”

He cut her off again, his grip on her hand tightening, as if he could force her to believe him through touch alone. “No buts. This is a non-negotiable for me.” He took another deep breath, his voice growing even quieter. “I’m not your mother, Liz. You are not too much. And I’m not scared. Got it?”

Something crumbled inside her, some long-held piece of fear disintegrating in the face of his steady, certain gaze.

Her throat felt tight, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

“Got it?” He repeated, his thumb rubbing softly over her knuckles.

There was something pleading in his voice—a silent plea for her to understand, to believe him.

And she realized in that moment, as he held her hand and looked at her with so much certainty...she did.

She believed him.

[kxsagi]

HII I HAVE ANOTHER REQUESTT HEHE, HOPEFULLY YOU ENJOY WRITING THIS ONE ASWELL‼️‼️

so there’s this anime with a long title that i don’t wanna type. The female mc stumbles upon her ex and wants to make him jealous so she says she’s out on a date with her boyfriend but the boy’s not actually her bf, instead he’s a total stranger! he denies but she bribes him and he agrees. basically a fake dating trope but they actually fall for eachother

the male mc, yamada looks REALLY similar to Rin, even the personality so i really wanna see this is your writing style bc i love how you write rin hehe so could you please write one with similar plot..?😻🙏.

“𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥”

a/n: YESSS OH HOW I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE AS WELL I DON’T THINK I’VE WRITTEN ONE YET???

i’m happy to hear you love how i write rin, i’m happy to write more for our favorite emo boy <3

(header image art credits go to 58hrprtr)

you weren’t expecting to see him today. 

in fact, you weren’t expecting to see him ever again. and yet, there he was. 

your ex. 

standing by the vending machines near shibuya station, casually leaning against the glass with his new girlfriend, who, frustratingly, has the easy charm of someone who probably knows all the hidden ramen spots in tokyo and never has to wait in line. 

your blood boils. the audacity of him. looking hot. thriving. happy. 

you try to make a quick U-turn, but fate hates you today, and he catches sight of you. his eyes narrow slightly in recognition, and before you can blink, he’s already giving you that smug, condescending half-smile you used to find charming. 

“hey.” 

you freeze mid-step, clutching your bag like it’s a life preserver. “oh,” you say, which is not a great start. “hi.” 

he tilts his head slightly, looking you over with this annoying glimmer of superiority. like he knows he’s winning the post-breakup competition. as if this is a game. 

and then he does it. 

he glances at his new girlfriend, leans in slightly, and rests his hand on her waist. her waist. 

and that’s when you snap. 

you don’t know what possesses you. maybe it’s the indignation. maybe it’s the trauma of listening to him mansplain crypto for an entire year. either way, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“i’m on a date with my boyfriend.” 

his brows lift slightly, and there’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. oh, you’ve got his attention now. 

and that’s when you make your next mistake. 

you spin around, arm outstretched, and point to the first man you see. which happens to be a stranger. 

a very tall, very good-looking stranger. 

black hair, falling messily over his forehead. sharp jawline. slightly disheveled, all-black coat and pants like he couldn’t be bothered to care what he put on in the winter. and, most importantly, a face that looks like he actively wishes he wasn’t here. 

the stranger, who was very clearly minding his own business, blinks once. slowly. then glances at your outstretched arm like you’ve just thrown a raccoon at him. 

“... what?” he mutters flatly. 

but you’re already walking over, grabbing his arm like you’ve been dating for years. 

“lovey,” you say, voice sickeningly sweet. “i was just telling my ex how nice it is to have a boyfriend who actually respects me.” you squeeze his bicep for dramatic effect. it’s unexpectedly firm, which is beside the point, but still. noted. 

rin (because you quickly spot the name embroidered on his black coat) stares at you. expressionless. unimpressed. 

“i’m not your boyfriend,” he deadpans. 

your ex looks amused. his girlfriend does the whole polite, pitying smile thing. 

you’re spiraling. 

“sure you are,” you say through gritted teeth, discreetly digging your nails into rin’s arm. “right, rinnie baby?” 

rin blinks once. then twice. 

“no.” 

okay. so now you’re desperate. 

you tilt your head slightly, eyes narrowing just enough that he gets the message. 

“i can make really good ochazuke,” you murmur under your breath. 

rin’s gaze flickers slightly. 

“with extra wasabi,” you add in a desperate whisper. 

his eyes narrow. “... green tea or dashi broth?” 

“both.” 

rin sighs sharply through his nose and shoves his hands into his pockets. then with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged into a bath, he steps closer to you. 

his hand slides around your waist. your waist. 

and it’s firm and warm and suspiciously convincing. 

he leans down slightly, close enough that his breath brushes your ear. “happy?” he mutters, voice low and quiet enough that only you can hear. 

you don’t have time to answer because your ex is already giving you a disbelieving once-over. 

“wow,” he says, tone laced with fake politeness. “didn’t think you’d move on so quickly.” 

before you can respond, rin, who, let me remind you, does not even know you, lifts a hand and gently brushes your hair behind your ear. 

“she’s a catch,” he says, voice slow and deliberate, not a trace of emotion. “i wasn’t gonna waste my chance.” 

the audacity of this stranger to be so convincing. 

your ex looks vaguely annoyed now. good. you want him to feel that twinge of irritation. his girlfriend makes a comment about how they should get going and he’s suddenly all for it. 

and as they walk away, you swear you see your ex glance back, just once, with a slight frown. 

victory. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and pull away slightly from rin’s grasp. 

“okay, thanks,” you mumble. “that was a solid performance. very believable. you have a real future in the entertainment industry. maybe be the next kento yamazaki.” 

rin doesn’t even acknowledge your sarcasm. “i’ll take my ochazuke now,” he mutters. 

you blink. 

“wait, you… you actually want it?” 

he fixes you with an unreadable stare. “you promised,” he says flatly. “don’t be a liar.” 

and that’s how you end up at your apartment, cooking ochazuke for a man you just met. 

he sits at your table, arms loosely crossed, watching you move around the kitchen like this is totally normal. 

neither of you talk much. but it’s not uncomfortable. 

rin is perfectly content to sit in brooding silence, occasionally glancing at his phone, occasionally glancing at you. his eyes linger longer each time. and then, after he finishes the ochazuke, he does the unthinkable. 

he stays. 

he leans back slightly in his chair, and quietly asks if you have any tea. 

you make him tea. 

and you talk. 

and it’s… weirdly nice. 

he doesn’t smile much, but you can tell he’s listening. 

and when you make a dry joke about your ex’s tragic taste in cologne, he snorts softly. it’s brief. almost imperceptible. but it happens. 

and somehow, that makes you want to keep making him laugh. 

maybe that’s how fake dating turned into real dating. 

because one day, while you’re cooking ochazuke again, he comes up behind you. his arms loop loosely around your waist, hands resting over your stomach, and his lips brush against your temple. 

“this isn’t fake anymore,” he mutters against your skin. 

you set the ladle down with shaky hands. because you know you’re in trouble. 

and you also know you’re about to make him a lot of ochazuke. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: i freaking love wasabi

[bwobgames]

It’s 10:50 pm

“Hey, how did it go. Are you alright with the kid or do we need to sleep with one eye open?”

“We’re good now”

“Although now I owe Sebastián a favour”

“Huh? Was he there?”

“Ah, well, he cleared some of my points”

“Man, perhaps I really should hire you as my social situation interpreter”

“Oh baby, for you it’s all free”

“You’re insufferable”

“Eepy time, then? Two Mimir? Did you brush your teeth on the way? I’m already done with my skincare routine”

“Heehoo”

“Yeah…”

He puts on his pyjama and sits for a little while.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… been thinking”

“About your dad again?”

“About the house.”

“Did you… feel something?”

“No but, what if this is, let’s say, some kind of evolution?”

“A sneakier house?”

“Maybe.”

“Remember when we analysed the doctor’s investigations? The feeling we proposed it might be?”

“Grief.”

“I fear that. If we or our friends or the other passengers or by accident…!”

“If someone breaks the current purpose, could we…?”

“Could someone accidentally give it a new one with their grief?”

“Are you thinking of someone specifically? Nina, maybe?”

“Ah, well, this thing is hosting a ton of people so, possibilities are not zero”

“Oliver. Do you think you…?”

“No.”

“No. I have nothing to grieve for. It’s been plenty of time already.”

“It’s not even been a month”

“I know. But by any means, I shouldn’t be grieving”

“Grandma lived a long and fulfilling life. She had her chickens. She had her family. She had just enough to be happy.”

“She never had to worry about the city life, content with the wonders of the south”

“Everyone got to see her at the hospital. And she died in her sleep. The most peaceful way to go”

“You even got to meet her. To talk to her. To know her. And she liked you”

“She liked you enough to ask to come by next year...”

“Oliver…”

“And she would’ve hated for us to be sad. She would’ve wanted us to throw a party instead of a gloomy funeral. To remember her as she wanted to.”

“By all means, I have no reason to be sad.”

“…But then why it still hurts so much…?”

The pressure in his chest, silently present since that day, grew tenfold.

He felt his as if his heart was painfully pumping tears out of his eyes.

It hurt. Even deeper than his chest. His heart. His soul.

For a second, he feared getting completely engulfed on it.

Until

A heart next to his, separated by a pair of ribcages.

“It that happens. I’ll fix it”

“I’ll buy this whole train if necessary. I’ll live in it. I’ll change it.”

“Grieve as much as you need. I’ll take care of the rest”

“So, don’t bottle this up any longer, okay?”

He thought he couldn’t cry any harder. He was wrong.

Grasping into Ángel, as if trying to completely unite their hearts, he let himself feel.

He misses her. He misses her. He can’t visit anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to the animals. He wishes he did more.

But the pain doesn’t eat him whole. There is a warmth to it.

A warmth embracing him, shielding him, applying a new pressure. A welcome one.

When he looked at that sunrise, he imagined a bright future. A perfect future.

One where Mozilla didn’t get sick. One where he wasn’t afraid of heights. One where he didn’t have nightmares.

One where everyone he loves lives forever.

Accepting reality used to be easier. When he wasn’t fragmented.

When he wasn’t haunting any buildings.

He should’ve spent more time with her.

He should’ve known, more than anyone, the importance of time.

He feels a kiss on his temple

“We’ll visit her, yeah? Every year. We’ll bring the prettiest flowers”

“She gave me her lemon pie recipe. I know I’m not the best, but”

“I’ll do everything to make it perfect”

This is the reality he lives in. And it’s the best it has ever gotten.

His pain might never pass. Part of him doesn’t want it to.

But it will always be cushioned around strong arms.

Accompanied by another beating heart, two ribcages away.

One day the pressure will be lighter, accompanied by joyful nostalgia. That day is clearly not today.

But he will look at the sunshine once more. Even if it’s cloudy.

He can be brave.

Because he knows that there will be times where he doesn’t have to.

His tears are not yet done with him, so he stays.

Ángel gently sways him side to side. It makes him sleepy.

Who could’ve thought that a busy day travelling and emotional turmoil would make him tired?

He closes his eyes and dozes off.

It’s 11 pm

<PREV START NEXT>

[chloe-skywalker]

Love Beyond Limits - Chapter 3

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Wanda Maximoff x Friend!Fem!Reader

Pietro Maximoff x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: SOA , Mob! Bucky

(Don't think any of these warnings are in this chapter but there in the over all theme)

Word Count: 1,790

Summary: Y/n spills tea on a very handsome stranger who in return for ruining his suit just wants to get to know her.

Authors Note: They finally meet ! The reader and Bucky finally meet in this chapter! Now from here on out they won't be separated much. Check out the series masterlist for all the chapters.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Y/n was headed back home after getting some tea and dropping off some supplies off for Aunt May had asked her to get for an odd lunch rush that had happened at the restaurant.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Y/n immediately started apologizing as she felt herself run into a hard body dumping her tea all over. She knew she should’ve double checked the lid, at least it wasn’t hot tea.

“It’s okay.” Bucky said holding onto her waist which he had grabbed onto to keep her from falling after she had ran into him. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the women that ran into him and really took in how beautiful she is. If anyone were to run into him Bucky felt very blessed to have it be this woman.

 “That’s an expensive suit isn't it?” Y/n grimaced as she looked over his suit and could tell it was very well made. Of course she had to run into and spill her tea all over some rich guy’s suit, staining it. 

“It’s okay, Doll.” Bucky smiled, waving her off with one hand as he let go of her waist. Looking her in the eye’s Bucky thought she was the most beautiful woman he had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He could care less about the suit. God knows he has enough of them. “Truly. To be honest I hated this suit so you just gave me a viable reason to trash it.”

“Promise?” Y/n raised an unsure brow at the man, he was being very understanding and not yelling at her which Y/n appreciated. But she was confused as to why he was so okay with her having stained his obviously expensive suit, on the obviously wealthy man.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Doll.” Bucky laughed smiling at her concern for his clothes, it was amusing. Bucky really did hate this suit and now he had a good enough reason to actually trash it. It was endearing to him though how this woman was so concerned about his clothes being ruined. He was trying to assure her that he wasn’t upset at her at all.

“You don’t know me.” Y/n stated, he didn’t know her so why should she trust him to not lie to her. Y/n knew not to trust just anybody, even if they were as handsome as the man in front of her.

“How about we change that?” He raised a brow, he hoped she’d agree. Bucky really didn’t want to let her go without getting to know her. If he did there was the chance he’d never run into her again.

“I don’t know you.” She squinted at him, suspicious of the stranger in front of her. Sure he seemed like a nice guy but that didn’t mean anything.

“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky held his hand out for her to shake introducing himself so he’s less of a stranger to her. It was a start and really all he could do.

“Bucky?” Y/n was surprised at the odd name, her voice rang with confusion as she repeated it.

“It’s a nickname, it comes from my middle name. James Buchanan Barnes.” He explained with a shrug knowing it could sound odd.

“Y/n Winston.” Y/n shook his hand and in return told him her name.

“Y/n. Well, Y/n getting to know you and you getting to know me would be all I need in exchange for you ruining my suit.” Bucky told her, smiling as he put his hand in his pant’s pocket. He was hopeful that she would take the bait and repay him for ruining his suit with letting them get to know each other.

“Well played Mr. Barnes.” Y/n smirked at his cleverness. Enjoying his response and what he wanted as repayment, she found it amusing.

“Please call me Bucky. My friends do.” He shook his head with a laugh, Bucky wanted her to feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re friends now?” She raised a brow at his boldness.

“I’d like to become friends. At first.” Bucky smirked as he nodded at her question. She was to beautiful to not want to be more than friends and her personality seemed to match.

“Got big plans for us already, Bucky?” Y/n teased but she was curious. It was obvious to her that he was flirting and she thought why not flirt back? No harm in it, besides he seemed like a nice guy.

“Possibly.” he winked, she was bold with him and didn’t shake with fear when she heard his name. It was very clear that she didn’t know who exactly he was. Which Bucky was curious and happy about. “Do you like coffee?” Bucky asked, wanting to continue to talk to her but not on the side of the street.

“No, but most coffee places tend to have tea, which I do like. So where to?” Y/n linked her arm with Bucky’s for him to lead the way.

Bucky led them to a little coffee and tea bistro that happened to be around the corner. When they ordered Y/n went to pay for her’s but Bucky gently pushed her hand away and reminded her that getting to know each other was his repayment for ruining his suit and that he offered to get drink’s so he was paying.

“So you're not a coffee drinker. Noted.” Bucky said as they sat down at a table in a far corner where no one was really around.

“Are you storing these note’s for later use?” Y/n teased inquired with a quirked up brow in curiosity.

“Well I want to know and remember everything about you. So yes.” Bucky nodded confidently as he answered her.

“If we’re getting to know each other, that works both ways.” Y/n told him taking a sip of her tea.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky gestured for her to ask whatever she liked he’d be an open book to her questions.

“Everything.” Y/n smiled, shaking her head amused.

“That goes both ways.” Bucky smirked, throwing her word’s back at her playfully.

The two spent 3 hours sitting there and talking getting to know each other. Enjoying each other’s company. They shared a bunch of laughs, smiles and even jokes with each other. They never even felt the time go by, luckily for both of them when they did notice it wasn’t to late in the day yet.

“I had a delightful time.” Bucky told her honestly as they exited the bistro, smiling at her.

“Me too.” Y/n smiled up at him. She hadn’t had that much fun in a very long time.

“Can I have your number?” He asked looking at her with hope that he made a good enough impression to earn her phone number.

“From how big of a CEO you are and how many businesses you own, you're a powerful man. I'm sure you could just get my number.” Y/n smirked playing with the fact that he had moderately told her about all his company’s and etc…

“Its less creepy if you give it to me.” Bucky glanced down at her teasing and then shyly back up at her hoping he could in fact get her number and know everything about her in a snap of his fingers, but that's not how he wanted to do things with her.

“Agreed.” Y/n gave him a nod agreeing with his statement, that two exchanged numbers.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/n.” Bucky smiled genuinely at her as he walked over to his car waiting for him as Sam and Steve stood by the driver's side pretending not to be listening in on the two’s conversation.

“Bye, Bucky.” Y/n waved as she started to walk back on her way home. It wasn’t a very long walk but the whole time including walking up the stairs her thoughts were on the business man she just kinda had a date with.

“You took longer than expected.” Wanda said as Y/n entered the apartment.

“I ran into someone.” Y/n spoke, taking off her jacket and shoes.

“Is this person of the opposite sex?” Pietro teased from the kitchen as he heard her answer his sister.

“Yes, in fact he is.” Y/n nodded as she sat down on the couch with a smile on her lips.

“Ooooh, tell us more.” Wanda ran over to sit in the chair across from Y/n. Excited for her friend's new ‘friend’.

“He was handsome, sweet, confident but not overly. . .” She smiled even wider and bit her lip thinking back to her time with Bucky. “CEO of some businesses and owns a ton of them and others.” Y/n looked down knowing it sounded nut’s.

“Holy Shit!” Wanda’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“How’d you meet this guy?” Pietro asked, coming over to sit on the loveseat, very intrigued by the event’s that had apparently happened today.

“Spilled my tea on him, completely ruined his suit.” Y/n winced recalling that movement.

“What’d you do?” Wanda questioned worriedly if he was rich that had to be an expensive suit to dry clean.

“Apologized, but he said he hated the suit anyway so I did him a favour really. Then he wanted to get to know me so we got tea. Chatted for a few hours.” Y/n explained the short version to sum things up.

“Did you get his number? Please tell me you got his number.” Wanda was on the edge of her seat hoping her friend did not pass up the opportunity to get a cute and interested man’s number.

And in that second Y/n’s phone dinged, as she glanced down to check it happened to be the very man they were talking about.

(Texts:)

Just wanted to make sure you gave me a real number. - Bucky

Don’t worry it’s really me. Although if I had given you a fake number you still would’ve gotten my real one somehow. - Y/n

Well I appreciate that you didn’t make me go through all that trouble. - Bucky

Your Welcome - Y/n

Can I see you tomorrow? - Bucky

What’d you have in mind? - Y/n

“By the look on her face I’d say they diffidently exchanged numbers.” Pietro smirked as he and his sister watched their friend blush as she read her newest text’s that had come in.

They both thought this could be good for Y/n. Move on from Charming and maybe if it leads to more she would be able to move on from a certain teller. Maybe she could mend her heart in New York.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1 @starkleila @bonnyclydecat @bruher @vicmc624

[bellfilmz]

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫��𝐧𝐠: Season1!rafe x shy!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which rafe and reader are partnered for a school project and reader is convinced it's a sick joke.

Or

In which rafe Cameron has a crush on his smart shy partner and sees this as a chance to pursue her.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

⸻

Rafe Cameron liked you?

No. That didn’t make sense.

Guys like Rafe didn’t go for girls like you.

You spent most of the night overthinking it, replaying his words in your head. By morning, you convinced yourself it had to be some kind of joke—maybe not a cruel one, but a joke nonetheless.

So, when you walked into school the next day, you made a decision.

You were going to avoid Rafe Cameron.

⸻

That plan failed immediately.

You’d barely made it to your locker when a shadow fell over you.

“Morning, smart girl.”

You stiffened.

Slowly, you turned, only to find Rafe standing there, just as confident as ever. His tie was, as usual, loose around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up like he hadn’t even tried to follow dress code.

His gaze flickered over your face, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “No good morning?”

You cleared your throat, focusing on your locker. “Morning.”

He smirked, leaning against the locker next to yours. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you saw a ghost.”

You bit your lip, gripping your books tighter. You weren’t ready to have this conversation—not here, in front of everyone.

“I just—” You swallowed. “I have class.”

He raised a brow. “We have class together, remember?”

Right. Of course. Because fate clearly hated you.

You inhaled sharply before nodding. “Right. Let’s go.”

Rafe chuckled, falling into step beside you. “You’re acting weird.”

“I am not.”

“You totally are.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

⸻

The day dragged on, and avoiding Rafe proved to be impossible.

Every time you turned around, he was there—sitting next to you in class, waiting by your locker, walking with you to the library like nothing had changed.

And, worst of all?

He was still being nice.

Still listening when you talked, still helping you with your books, still flashing that stupid smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

So, at the end of the day, when he once again waited for you outside class, you snapped.

“Why are you doing this?” you blurted.

Rafe frowned. “Doing what?”

You exhaled sharply. “This. Acting like we’re—like we’re something.”

His jaw tightened. “I told you why.”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t get it, Rafe.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “You really think I’d waste my time if I wasn’t serious?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You crossed your arms. “You have to admit, it’s weird. You’ve never talked to me before, and now, all of a sudden, you like me?”

“I’ve always liked you,” he muttered.

Your breath caught. “What?”

Rafe exhaled, glancing away. “I just—never said anything.”

You stared at him. He wasn’t smirking anymore. He wasn’t teasing.

He meant it.

Before you could say anything, someone else called your name.

You turned, finding one of your classmates—Jake Simmons—walking toward you.

“Hey,” Jake said, smiling. “I was wondering if you could help me study for the chem test? You’re, like, the smartest person in class.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“Oh—um—sure?”

Jake grinned. “Great! Maybe we can meet at the library tomorrow?”

Rafe made a noise next to you—something between a scoff and a laugh.

Jake glanced at him, then back at you. “Unless you’re busy?”

You hesitated.

Rafe was your project partner. But… maybe a little space wouldn’t hurt.

“No, I’m not busy,” you said finally.

Jake smiled. “Cool. See you then.”

As he walked away, you turned back to Rafe—only to find his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your brows furrowed. “Rafe—”

He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You can study with whoever you want,” he murmured, “but if you think I’m gonna just sit back and watch some guy try to take my place, you’re wrong.”

Your breath caught. “I—”

Rafe smirked, though this time, it was sharper. More dangerous.

“See you tomorrow, smart girl.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving your heart pounding in your chest.

⸻

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @angelicameron @rafecqmeronslove @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @jujubeaz @heartzfromluna @redlipstickgirlx

⸻

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 💕

[tabithatwo]

(x)

(this is a pls stop blaming juliette lewis for nat’s arc and death post <3)

[coldpintglass]

Is this a safe space to be hater? Can I be a hater this fine Tuesday afternoon? Will you, my brethren, my nearest and dearest, join me in my hating?

[firstprinced]

my two cents on the taylor/vienna topic that no one asked for and if you come to hate at this then idc

the first half of taylor’s statement about vienna was very good, and then it was very bad. no one needed her scolding and she could have done much more without putting anyone in danger by talking about things in detail, and i know it’s obviously very hard on her but it lacked empathy for the fans and sounded like a scolding mother.

and to people who just answer every criticism with “she doesn’t owe you anything” um she kinda does - she doesn’t owe anyone her personal life but she does owe something for the, im guessing about 200 000 (?) people who bought the tickets who are also struggling with both waiting over a year for this, losing the money they spent on travelling AND the reality of that they could have been killed if this would not have been found out. i feel like literally a cryptic post would have been enough to create a feeling of “we’re in this together” and i’m just scratching my head at this all.

and the people being all SEE I TOLD YOU SO are so.. my god. i don’t wanna go down to your level but i’m tempted. this is handled so badly by the pr team it’s ridiculous. all the money in the world and yet

[legendofthe3divas]

What's your opinion on Jesy Nelson?

OMG okay so i’ve done this a couple times already but…

as much as she was a BIG part of little mix and they wouldn’t have made it that far without her. and i appreciate her for being in the band.

and i completely understand her for leaving due to mental health (if that was the reason we don’t know… there’s some speculation the girls had a fall out and it was one of the other girls who posted on insta she was leaving but i’m not gonna get involved)

BUT

after the full on black fishing, racism and bullying (after being bullied herself) towards leighanne, i do not and will not support her again. what she did was really and totally fucked up and really disrespectful towards everyone of colour.

i will do anything for leighanne she’s my little baby and been through so much so she deserves so much more and i will always root for her <3

[dashiellqvverty]

everyone always wants to talk about jenny nicholsons video essays and i’m like does ANYONE want to talk about the art of the mattress aka the sleep song. bc it plays in my head every time i see anything about her.

[luvbabydoll]

— under their noses — chapter one

a series by © luvbabydoll — inspired by @goatgoesmbe

you never intended to start an only fans.

but between nursing school, grueling shifts, and bills that refused to pay themselves, you had to get creative. and what started as a desperate attempt to make ends meet quickly turned into a steady income.

the men on their seemed to like you. they liked your voice, the softness in your tone, the way you spoke like you meant it. you never showed your full face, but that only added to the mystery. you played into it—the sweet, teasing persona, the gentle praise, the intimacy that kept men coming back for more.

and, completely unknowingly, the entirety of Task Force 141 had fallen for you.

—

it had all started months ago.

one of their missions had gone sideways—bad intel, long hours, more bodies than they were expecting. and by the time they got back to base, exhausted and strung out, all they wanted was food, alcohol, and sleep.

but mostly alcohol.

soap was the first to bring it up.

slumped against a crate, half a bottle of whiskey deep, he let out a groan and muttered, “boys, i think i’m in love.”

gaz snorted, kicking his boots up on the table. “oh, yeah? you have some girl we don’t know about?”

“angel.”

ghost, who had been silently nursing his drink, stiffened.

gaz raised an eyebrow, “angel…?”

soap pulled out his phone and waved it lazily. “she’s some onlyfans girl, mate. best thing that i ever stumbled upon. swear to god, she cares about me.”

gaz laughed. “you are down horrendous, johnny boy.”

“oi, don’t judge me ‘til you’ve heard her. this girl is unreal. always saying the nicest things.” soap sighed dramatically.

gaz rolled his eyes. “yeah, mate. ‘cause she’s getting paid to do that.”

“so? it still counts for me.”

gaz held out a hand. “alright alright, lemme see.”

soap hesitated for a moment. “...fine. but don’t be weird about it.”

gaz took the phone, tapped through a few of the videos, and went silent.

after a moment, he muttered, “okay, shit. you might be onto something.”

soap smirked miraculously. “told you.”

ghost, who had been quietly brooding, finally spoke. “you idiots just now finding out about her?”

they both turned to look at him shocked.

gaz blinked. “w-wait, what?”

ghost took a sip of his whiskey, deadpan. “i’ve been subscribed for months.”

soap choked on his drink. “YOU WHAT?”

ghost shrugged carelessly. “found her first.”

gaz’s jaw dropped. “y-you mean to tell me you—simon ‘i hate everyone’ riley—has been secretly been subscribed to an onlyfans girl this whole time?”

ghost didn’t answer. he just took another sip of his whiskey.

soap stared at him, with a look of betrayal that you see in movies. “and you didn’t tell us?”

ghost gave him a flat look. “why the fuck would i tell you?”

soap pointed aggressively. “you gatekeeping bastard.”

gaz shook his head in amusement. “price is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.”

“Finds out what?”

the three of them turned to see price walking in, looking mildly suspicious.

for a moment, nobody spoke.

and then, without missing a beat, gaz held out the phone. “cap. you gotta see this.”

and that’s how, in the span of one drunken night, every single one of them became your most loyal subscribers.

—

and then you arrived.

your first day on base was nothing special—standard introductions, paperwork, getting settled.

well for you, at least.

but for them? it was a nightmare.

soap noticed it at first.

your voice—was way too familiar. too exact. the way you spoke, the soft warmth in your tone. it sent a shiver down his spine.

gaz eventually picked up on the way you moved—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers ghosted over their skin during check-ups.

ghost, who was normally unreadable, was tense.

and price? price just sighed a lot.

none of them said anything. they couldn’t.

because if they were wrong—if this was just some wild coincidence—then they’d look like absolute idiots.

but if they were right?

then their sweet, soft-spoken angel had just walked into their lives, completely unaware that every single one of them had been on their knees for her voice alone.

and fuck, they were not prepared for that.

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[verstappenverse]

Knight of My Heart

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After one too many drinks, a protective Max arrives right when you need him most.

1.7k words / Masterlist

It was nearly 2am when Max’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, dragging him from the edges of sleep. The faint light from his screen illuminated the dark room, and he reached for it with a groggy hand, squinting at the text that appeared.

“She’s drunk. Like realllly drunk. Can you come get her?”

Max sat up, his heart already sinking. The message was from one of your friends, someone whose name he only half-remembered from the countless times they’d insisted they’d “watch out for you.” Max knew better by now. He sighed, raking a hand through his messy hair, before throwing the sheets off and quickly pulling on a hoodie and jeans.

The drive to the club was quiet, but Max’s mind wasn’t. He hated these nights. It wasn’t just the thought of you being drunk and vulnerable, it was the idea that you were so carefree and beautiful, and people always noticed. Too many times Max had seen guys try to get too close, their smiles too slick and intentions too obvious.

When he finally pulled up outside the club he saw you almost immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

You were leaning against a lamp post near the curb swaying slightly in your heels, a dazed smile on your face as a man hovered beside you. Max’s chest tightened at the sight. The guy was too close, his body angled toward yours as he spoke animatedly, gesturing with his hands. You laughed softly at whatever he said, your voice carrying over the low thrum of the music spilling from the club’s entrance.

Max killed the engine and climbed out, his jaw set. His strides were purposeful, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“Maxie!” you squealed the moment you spotted him, your arms flinging open in delight.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his torso and nearly toppling yourself over in the process.

The guy looked over at Max, not at all intimidated, but Max didn’t care. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching by his sides as he stepped closer.

“You good?” Max asks you, his voice a little rougher than usual.

The man gave Max a once-over, clearly sizing him up. “She seems fine to me,” he said, his tone too casual for Max’s liking.

Max’s eyes narrowed, the jealousy coursing through him now unmistakable. He took a step closer to him. “Oh because you know her so well, right?” he asked the guy, voice clipped.

With a taunting smirk, the guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “She was just telling me about her night. She looked like she needed some company.”

Max wasn’t having it, he stands tall, his body blocking your view of the man now. “Right, I don’t think you understand,” Max replied dryly, placing a firm hand on your waist. “I’m her boyfriend, she's mine. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll take it from here.”

The man’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to argue, but something in Max’s gaze seemed to convince him otherwise. With a tight nod, he muttered a quick, “Whatever man,” and walked off into the crowd.

As the guy disappeared, Max’s frustration didn’t completely fade, but he focused right back on you. Guiding you towards his car, hand never leaving your side. You leaned into him, your cheek resting against his shoulder the alcohol making your limbs feel heavy.

You looked up at him, your face slightly flushed, your eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” you asked quietly.

Max’s lips press together tightly, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy still lingering. “I’m fine,” he said, even though he’s anything but. "Just... I want you to be safe alright?"

You nod, though your head wobbles slightly. "I know... just wanted to have some fun…long week."

Max exhaled slowly, his tension only easing slightly as he turned to you. You were beaming up at him, clearly oblivious to the small confrontation that had just unfolded.

“I get it,” he said softly, his hand steadying you at your waist. “But where are your friends?”

“They’re inside,” you mumbled, waving a hand vaguely toward the club entrance. “Or somewhere. I don’t know. I came out to get some air.”

Max sighed, scanning the area for any sign of your group. Just then a few of your friends emerged from the club giggling.

“Max!” One of them called her tone far too cheery. “She’s all yours.”

Max’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling over. “Why did you let her get this drunk?” he snapped. “Anything could’ve happened to her out here!”

Your friend blinked, her smile faltering. “She’s a big girl Max. Besides, we knew you’d come.”

“That’s not the point,” Max said, his voice sharp. "You should’ve made sure she was safe.”

Your friends exchanged glances mumbling something, he exhaled heavily running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m glad you've all had fun, but next time just… watch out for her yeah? She’s very important to me.” He gazed down at you.

Your friends exchanged glances, some looking sheepish, others visibly annoyed at his tone.

“We had it under control Max,” one of your friends said, her tone defensive. “We weren’t going to babysit her all night.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Being there for your friend isn’t babysitting, it’s just what you do.”

Another friend, the quieter one of the group spoke up “Okay Max. We’ll keep a better eye on her next time, promise.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, looking back down at you. Your eyes were half-closed, a lazy smile on your lips as you mumbled something unintelligible against his chest.

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his face. “Alright,” he said to the group, his tone a little lighter now. “I’m taking her home. Get back safely.”

“We will,” the quieter friend said, giving him a small, apologetic smile.

Max turned to you with a sigh of relief. “Let’s get you home.”

Max guided you to the car, his hand never leaving your waist. You leaned into him heavily, giggling at every little thing, the way his hand steadied you, the low muttering under his breath, even the way he opened the car door for you like you were royalty.

“You’re so nice to me Maxie,” you said, settling into the passenger seat with a content sigh.

“I’m always nice to you,” he replied, pulling the seatbelt across your body and clicking it into place.

“You are,” you agreed, your voice soft and dreamy. “You’re my favourite person, you know that?”

Max froze for a moment, sure his heart skipped a beat, before he shook his head and closed your door.

The drive home was quiet, save for your occasional hums and mumbled comments about the pretty city lights. Max glanced at you every so often, his hand gripping your thigh, your eyes fluttering shut for brief moments.

When he finally pulled into his apartment’s parking garage you stirred, blinking sleepily. Inside you clung to him like a lifeline, your arms looped around his neck as he guided you to the bathroom.

“You’re so tall,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest. “Like a tree. A strong, handsome tree.”

Max chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he set you down on the bathroom counter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway,” you said, your grin lazy and smug.

He didn’t respond, instead reaching for a makeup remover wipe from the cabinet. You watched him curiously as he carefully cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Taking your makeup off,” he said simply.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, as he carefully wiped at your face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he avoided your eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"You take such good care of me." You whispered, reaching up to touch his hand. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know,” he said with a slight frown, his eyes finally meeting yours. “But I want to. You deserve it.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Max carried you to the bedroom, letting you climb him like a koala as you giggled into his shoulder. He set you down gently, pulling the covers over you before crouching beside the bed. You blinked at him sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re like a knight,” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness. “My very own knight in shining armour.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “A very tired knight,” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning if I let you go to sleep without water and something for your hangover.”

“I don’t hate you,” you slurred, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. “I could never hate you.”

His chest tightened at the sincerity in your tone, “Stay awake for just a few more minutes okay? I’ll be right back.”

You made a soft noise of protest as he stood, but you didn’t try to stop him. Max moved quietly through the apartment, grabbing a glass from the kitchen and filling it with cold water. From the bathroom he grabbed a pack of paracetamol, the domesticity of the routine bringing a faint smile to his lips.

When he returned you were still half-propped against the pillows, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of his footsteps.

“Here,” Max said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He handed you the glass and pressed two pills into your palm. “Take these and drink some water. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You squinted at the pills like they’d personally offended you. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Max replied firmly, his lips quirking upward. “No arguments.”

“Bossy,” you muttered, but you popped the pills into your mouth and swallowed them with some water. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

You handed the glass back to him, and he set it on the nightstand before leaning forward to pull the blankets higher around you.

“I’m so lucky you’re my Maxie,” you sighed.

“Sleep,” he said softly, stroking your cheek.

“Stay,” you murmured, your eyes already half-closed.

Max hesitated, his heart twisting with adoration, before nodding. “I’ll be right here.”

[weezerlvr228]

why he so mysterious…

demur

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Favourite Surprise

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and Bucky have been through a lot together. So what happens when you surprise him with something he wasn't expecting?

Disclaimer: descriptions of bullet/stab wounds from a mission, hurt/comfort, Bucky tends to Reader's wounds and worries about her, some swearing. Not proof read.

“I’m gonna put you down. Just stay there.”

“It’s not like I can go anywhere.” You slumped onto the floor, holding your side, trying your best to breath through the pain. But even breathing was starting to hurt. 

Bucky had carried you to the safe house. You were on a mission just outside of Prague. You’d been prepared for the worst, and told to hope for the best. But you hadn’t been prepared for this worst. One of the enemy agents having it out for you. 

They’d dived right past Bucky and three other Shield agents in order to reach you. And they’d sure as hell made sure they got to you. 

You could hear Bucky rummaging around in the bathroom, piling things up in order to bring them into you. A few seconds later, he appeared and started moving around, locking all the windows and shutting the curtains. 

“Can I look?”

You nodded, a small whimper leaving you as your clothes caught your wound. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Bucky helped lift your shirt the rest of the way but then he frowned. “I can’t clean it like this. I’m gonna need to cut-”

“No. Don’t-don’t cut it.” Pushing yourself to sit up, you reached for the hem of your t-shirt. “Buck, I’m gonna need your help.”

“It’s gonna be easier to just cut it.”

You shook your head. “I’m not wearing one of the tiny fucking t-shirts kept here. Now, help me.”

Bucky did as he was told, helping you pull the t-shirt up your body and over your head, leaving your top half in your sports bra. 

“This is gonna hurt-”

“I know it’s gonna fucking hurt. Just do it.” You took in a few breaths before shaking your head, your tone softening. “I’m sorry-”

“You’ve been shot and stabbed. Swear as much as you like.”

A weak, breathy laugh left you. “Thanks.”

Bucky gave you a quick countdown before pouring the wound cleaning solution over your wound. Your body reached, crunching up, trying your best to push yourself away from Bucky and the bottle he was pouring over your gaping wound. Your hand landed on his right arm, squeezing him as tight as you were squeezing your eyes shut. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Ugh, god.” You looked up, your head banging gently against the kitchen cabinet behind you. “I hate this.”

“You’re gonna hate it even more in a minute. You need stitches.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“I need to do them now. We don’t have time-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You took in a deep breath before finally looking at him. “I trust you.”

“Do you?”

“Do I really have any choice?”

“No, I guess not.”

After fifteen minutes, you started to feel yourself succumbing to sleep. “Whoa, hey, no, no, no. Stay awake. Y/n! Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

You continued to breathe, feeling the needle curl through your skin as he stitched you up. 

“I’m almost done, doll. I promise. Just stay. Awake. You hear me?”

You nodded, though it was weak. However, whatever essence of sleep you were falling into was suddenly gone when a deafening sting ripped through your wound and you shot up from where you’d laid down on the floor. 

“All done. It’s all done now. But I’m gonna need to wrap it.”

“Couldn’t you have warned me?”

“I did. I told you not to fall asleep.”

“I’ve lost a lot of blood. Don’t blame me.”

“Think you can stay awake long enough for me to let Sam know where we are?”

You nodded. “I can try.”

Bucky smiled a little with relief. “Good. Stay awake.”

You didn’t know how long had passed but it couldn’t have been long. Bucky was standing somewhere in the corner of the room, his voice repeating his badge number and coordinates until Sam’s voice finally replied. Then his voice slowly slipped away. 

“She’s lost a lot of blood, Sam.”

“We’re on our way now. Just keep her awake.” Sam told him and when Bucky didn’t reply, he spoke again. “She’ll be okay, Buck. You’ve got her to safety and patched her up, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s voice broke over the radio. 

“She’ll be okay. I’ve got Cho on board with me so she’ll be in safe hands. Just sit tight. We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Keep her awake, Buck.”

The radio crackled away and Bucky turned back to you. “Y/n!”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you did speak. “I can’t keep 'em’ open, Buck.”

“You’ve gotta. I need to know you’re awake.”

You forced them open but not for long. 

“Just save your energy. Sam’s not too far.”

Then he sat beside you, pulling you into his side. “Just stay awake with me, doll.”

“I’ll try, Buck.”

Bucky tried his best to keep you awake but eventually you passed out. For a moment, you woke up and found yourself wrapped in a pair of familiar arms. But then you passed out again. 

Bucky laid you down on the bed inside the jet before stepping away, being pulled into a tight hug by Sam as Cho started to inspect your wound and start a blood transfusion. 

Bucky explained everything as best as he could to both Sam and Helen until eventually all there was left to do was for him to sit by your side and hold onto your hand. 

And he did that for three days. 

By your side in the jet, by your side in your hospital bed and, not too far from your side when you were pulled into surgery.

When you finally woke up, your hand was in his as he lay hunched over the edge of your bed, fast asleep. 

“He’s been awake for two days.”

You turned and looked at the door. Sam was standing there, a soft smile on his face as he walked inside, his voice quiet. “I did try and make him go home but he didn’t want to leave you.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost a week.” Sam told you before he sat himself down in the chair on the other side of your bed. “After three, they took you in for surgery. Some lesions from where the knife had cut through your bullet wound. He did a good job at fixin’ you up, though.” Sam explained. “You’ve been asleep ever since.”

“And him?”

“Never left your side.” 

You turned and looked back at the sleeping Bucky and your hand reached out. Softly, you brushed the hair back from his eyes, repeating the movement until you saw a soft, sleepy smile appear on his face. 

“You have been shot and stabbed. You’ve both survived through a lot.” Sam told you, bringing your attention back to him for a moment, you hand softly landing on top of Bucky’s. 

“I think maybe it’s time you two took some time alone together. Maybe a nice vacation.” Sam offered. “Just think about it.”

Then he sat up, leaned over and pressed a light kiss to your head. “I’ll see you later.”

As he got to the door, you called out to him. “Sam?”

He looked around. 

“Thank you.”

Sam just smiled and closed the door behind him, leaving you and Bucky inside. He remained asleep for a while and each time you gently pushed your fingers through his hair, that soft smile would appear on his face. 

Then he finally opened his eyes. His eyelashes fluttered open and closed until his brain finally registered what had woken him up. 

He shot up, but your hand came to his face. 

“You’re awake- you’re awake!” Bucky turned, ready to call for a nurse but with your hand on his face and shoulder, he sat himself back down before sitting on your bed, facing you. 

“Hey, hey, no, don’t call them. Not yet.”

“You’re awake. How long have you- are you okay?”

You smiled, holding onto him to make sure he stayed still long enough to hear you. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? They had to rush you into surgery and-”

“Hey, I’m okay. I’m awake, right?”

“Right.” Bucky smiled, finally looking at you. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I’m okay because you saved my life.”

Bucky then reached out, his fingers holding onto the ends of your hair before his eyes tracked back up towards your own eyes. And for a moment, the last time you’d looked at him like this flashed before your eyes. 

Laying on the floor, a white-hot pain spread through your side as Bucky skidded to his knees beside you. The panicked look in his eyes, the slight shake in his hand as it quickly reached out for you, and his voice…the recovered panic…

But the way he was looking at you now…

No danger. Just pure relief. 

And without thinking, you took the plunge. 

Leaning forward, you kissed him. 

His breath hitched for a moment, and his body stilled. But then he kissed back. His hand firm against your face, his fingers lightly digging into the back of your hair. 

Pulling away, if in a little need of catching your breath, Bucky’s head remained against yours for a moment, his eyes closed, soaking up every last moment. 

You’d both been surprised a lot in the last seven days alone. But he had to admit, you kissing him was his favourite one yet.