#grinning like an idiot 😁

[shynmighty]

your OCs are all heartthrobs-- badass and pretty!

Thank you so much!!! This makes me SO HAPPY!!! 🥰

[mrspiastri]

✩ feels like P1 🏆

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

cw: fluff, mentions of australia 2025 (😔)

wc: 4k words

an: based on this lovely request, and in honour of osc being the wdc leader 😁😁😁😁😁

Oscar had just begun his third season in Formula 1, and he was more pumped than anyone could imagine. He had the fastest car, the best strategies, the quickest team, and most importantly the most valuable teammate.

To anyone else, it would have been simple to see that he would win the WDC this year, however Oscar Piastri was everything but overconfident.

He knew he wanted this year to be perfect, from start to finish, he wanted to win all 24 races if possible, and win all the sprints, and start on pole for every single race.

Unfortunately, he had some tough competition, and he knew better than to relax. He spent the first two weeks of winter break shuttling from Bahrain to Woking, and after that flew straight to Melbourne, to spend the holidays with his family.

Of course, Y/N had opted to fly to Australia in advance, so she could wait for Oscar, and also because she wanted to spend time with the family. They welcomed her with open arms, as they always did.

She spent her summer days relaxing on the beaches in St. Kilda, and making sure she didn’t get bit by a spider. However, she still missed her boyfriend.

The very boyfriend who was Facetiming her from his hotel room in Bahrain.

“You know Osc, with the amount you call me, someone would think you’re going through withdrawals,” She commented as she snuggled into the sheets of Oscar’s childhood bedroom, the same room she loved because it showed her what her boyfriend was like before they met.

“Very funny, God forbid I miss my own girlfriend.” Oscar grumbled as he laid back on the bed, hair damp from a shower— with what, according to Y/N, seemed to be a towel around his waist.

“Did you call just to be dramatic?”

“No… I called because I miss you. Like, really miss you. Like, I physically cannot sleep on this hotel pillow because it doesn’t smell like you. And it’s too quiet. And I tried making chai with the tea bags in the hotel room and it tasted sad.”

Y/N tried her hardest to stifle her grin, as she pouted in sadness on his behalf. “Oh, you poor baby.”

“I am a poor baby, and I need you to do that thing you do where you scratch behind my ear when I’m half-asleep.”

“That reminds me, I did the same thing to Basil today, and she was asleep in less than a minute!” Y/N giggled as she informed her only slightly amused boyfriend.

“Are you telling me I’m no different than a dog?”

“No, but if the shoe fits…”

“That’s it I’m ending the call,” Oscar couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he pretended to be mad at Y/N.

“Aww come on Osc, let me see you when you’re all freshly washed. The no-shirt look is really doing it for me.”

“You’re such a perv sometimes, you know that.”

She only laughed in response, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Your shirt’s really nice, that green looks good on you,” he commented.

“I should hope it looks good, it’s yours.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and he squints them a bit to really focus on the details of her clothing.

“What? I only have like three t-shirts I own, the white one, the black one, and my maroon one. Not counting my McLaren kit.”

“Yeah you idiot, it’s from the home race collection. The folks at OP81 merch sent a package over to your Mum’s house.”

He sat up straighter, eyes relaxing as he let himself admire how she looked on his screen.

“Well, show me how it looks,” he requested, bossy as ever.

“I already did, you just saw it.” Y/N interjected.

“Give me a proper look, with the whole twirl and everything.”

Y/N groaned in mock annoyance.

“Only if you say please.”

A sigh.

“Please.”

“No, say it properly, the whole sentence.”

“Please, show me the outfit.”

“Noo! Say it properly, like you mean it!”

Another sigh, longer this time.

“Please darling, show me your outfit.”

“Alright, since you asked so nicely. And wipe that smirk off your face, Piastri.”

Y/N stood up, balancing her phone carefully so Oscar could get a full view. With an exaggerated sigh, she did a slow twirl.

“There,” she said. “Happy?”

Oscar’s grin spread across his face. “Extremely. You look unfairly good in my stuff.”

“I know,” she replied, flopping back onto the bed. “It’s a gift.”

She tugged the hem of the shirt down over her bare thighs as she got comfortable again.

Oscar narrowed his eyes a bit. “Are you even wearing shorts?”

Raising a brow, she gave him a smug look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Y/N,” he warned.

She burst into laughter. “Relax, I am.”

Oscar leaned back against the hotel headboard, arms crossed, lips twitching in amusement. “Still unfair. I leave for two days and suddenly you’re raiding my wardrobe like it’s your birthright.”

“To be fair,” she said, “I only took one shirt. And it’s not raiding if we live together.”

“It’s raiding when you steal the best-looking one.”

“You’d rather I take the ugly one?”

“No. I’d rather you wear it when I’m there to appreciate it properly.”

She smirked, settling back into her pillow and letting the phone rest on her stomach.

“You’re being dramatic again.”

“You knew what you were doing,” Oscar accused, eyes narrowing playfully. “Answering my FaceTime like that, casually pretending you didn’t know it was my shirt.”

“Caught red-handed.”

“You’re evil.”

“Whatever,” she said, “you still miss me like crazy.”

Oscar groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “So much it’s actually embarrassing. Travelling anywhere sucks when you’re not with me.”

“You say that like you’re not there driving one of the fastest cars on the planet.”

“Yeah, and still nothing tops coming home and finding you in my shirt, hair all messy, acting like it’s just another Tuesday.”

She blinked, a little caught off guard by how warm his voice had gotten. He had his ways of making her feel special,

without even realising what he was doing.

“Oscar…”

He shrugged, quieter now. “Just saying. Save that shirt for when I get back, yeah?”

She smiled, teasing again. “Only if you have the best lap times.”

“Wow. Blackmail.”

“Motivation.”

He laughed, eyes lingering on her a second longer before nodding.

“Deal.”

🪻🪻🪻

The house was unusually quiet.

Even with the buzz of Oscar’s family around, his mum fussing with teacups, his sisters glancing occasionally at the shows playing on the television, there was a stillness in the air. No one spoke much. The energy was muted, heavy in a way only a home crowd disappointment could bring.

Oscar had finished P9. Not bad, considering his slippage in the grass. But not what he or the country had hoped for, not after a weekend that had started so strong.

He was still at the track, locked in media obligations and debriefs, and Y/N could already imagine the weight of it all pressing down on his shoulders.

She stood up from the couch, tugging her sleeves down over her hands. “I’m gonna make something. He’s probably not eaten properly.”

Nicole looked up. “That’s a good idea, darling. What were you thinking?”

“Khichdi,” Y/N said, already heading toward the kitchen. “It’s what I usually make when he’s drained. He likes it more than he’ll admit.”

Nicole smiled softly, rinsing out her mug and moving aside so Y/N could work. “Something warm and simple sounds perfect.”

She knew his comfort foods by heart now.

Not toasties or chips or anything overly greasy, no, not tonight. He needed warmth. Reassurance. Something that felt like being wrapped in a hug.

So she went with what he always asked for on days he was sick or just tired of the world: khichdi. Soft rice and lentils, simmered with ghee, turmeric, a little cumin, and a side of spiced potatoes the way he liked them.

It was also the simplest thing she could make quickly, since the excitement of race week didn’t let them go grocery shopping for fancy ingredients.

Y/N pulled her hair into a ponytail, washed her hands, and opened the pantry. She moved quickly, finding the rice, the lentils, the spices; already laying them out on the counter.

Hattie padded into the kitchen and perched on a stool. “Do you need help? Or moral support? I’m very good at taste-testing.”

Y/N chuckled, setting the dal to soak. “You can peel the potatoes.”

“On it,” Hattie said, dragging a chopping board toward her and grabbing a peeler. “Oscar’s going to cry when he sees this. Bet on it.”

While the dal and rice soaked, Y/N got a pan going with ghee, mustard seeds, a few curry leaves, all of which she had picked up from her own stash brought over from home. The smell began to fill the room, earthy and warm.

Nicole drifted over and leaned against the counter, watching her with quiet admiration. “He’s really lucky, you know.”

Y/N smiled without looking up. “I think I’m the lucky one. He puts up with me.”

Nicole scoffed. “You’re cooking for him and putting up with his post-race sulking. That’s love.”

As the khichdi began to simmer, she threw in turmeric, a bit of grated ginger, salt, and cumin. She stirred slowly, letting it thicken, the grains softening into the kind of texture that wrapped around you like a blanket. Meanwhile, Hattie finished the potatoes and helped toss them in oil and spices, sliding them into the oven with a grin.

“Do I get a Michelin star now?” Hattie asked.

“You get points for not setting anything on fire,” Y/N teased.

Nicole pulled out a couple of plates and laid them out on the table as the final touches came together.

By the time the front door opened and the sound of Oscar’s keys hit the bowl by the entrance, the kitchen was filled with the golden scent of comfort and home.

The khichdi was ready, the potatoes crispy at the edges, and the quiet heaviness of the house had softened just a bit, thanks to turmeric, ghee, and the shared rhythm of care.

Oscar stepped inside as she was dishing out his portion. He looked exhausted. The weight of the day clung to him like a second skin. His cap was low over his forehead, eyes duller than usual.

He blinked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“You cooked?” His voice was rough, caught somewhere between surprise and something else. Something softer.

Y/N smiled, placing the bowl on the table. “Of course I did. You look like you need a hug and a hot meal.”

Nicole gave him a kiss on the cheek as she passed, and Hattie patted his back before stealing one of the roasted potatoes off his plate.

“Khichdi?” he asked, eyes fixed on the bowl.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, gently. “And potatoes. Sit. Eat.”

Oscar closed the gap between them in two quick steps and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He smelled like the track, sweat, heat; and now like home.

“You’re the best part of this whole weekend,” he murmured against her neck.

Y/N kissed the side of his head and squeezed him tighter.

“You’ll get the win here one day. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held her like he needed to remember what grounding felt like.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“And until then,” she whispered, “you’ve got a girl who’ll keep your tummy full and your ego in check.”

He huffed a laugh, finally pulling back just enough to look at her properly.

“God, I love you.”

She smiled. “I know. Now eat before your food gets cold.”

He tugged her into one last hug before taking his seat, already reaching for his spoon with a familiar sort of hunger.

As she sat down beside him, Oscar laced their fingers under the table.

🪻🪻🪻

The only things audible were low hum of the fridge, the occasional swishing of the dishwasher, and the soft clink of cutlery as Oscar finished off the last of the potatoes directly from the tray.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, the same oversized green OP81 shirt falling lazily off one shoulder. Her hair was still in that loose bun, a little messier now from the steam of cooking and leaning against the cushions.

Oscar walked in with two mugs of hot chocolate, handing her one before sinking beside her. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, brow quirking.

“You know,” he said, “I just realised something.”

She looked over at him with mock suspicion. “That’s never a good sign.”

He ignored her, gesturing toward her shirt. “That’s the same one you wore when we were on call. The FaceTime from Bahrain.”

Y/N glanced down at herself, trying to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Is it?”

“You knew it was,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You’re so annoying.”

She sipped her tea innocently. “I just like the colour.”

Oscar gave her a knowing look, then leaned in a bit closer, his voice dropping to something gentler. “You look really cute in it.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed just a little, but she tilted her head, keeping up her act. “Just cute?”

He gave a low hum, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

“No,” he said simply, his eyes scanning over her. “You look really good in my clothes. They look way too hot on you.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for half a second, and she looked away, half-hiding behind her mug. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“Am I?” he asked, nudging her foot with his. “You think I forgot the way you sat there on call, pretending like you didn’t know it was my shirt, driving me absolutely insane right after a shower?”

She laughed, lowering her mug. “Hey I was too busy admiring the view you were showing me, besides I thought you needed motivation.”

Oscar leaned back, arm stretched out along the back of the couch, fingertips barely brushing her shoulder.

“I don’t need motivation,” he said softly. “I just need to come home to this. To you.”

That time, her smile dropped for real, replaced with something quieter, something warm.

“Good,” she murmured, setting her tea aside and curling into his side, “because I’m not giving your shirts back.”

Oscar rested his cheek against the top of her head, letting out a quiet breath.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

🪻🪻🪻

Oscar sat still, one arm around Y/N, the other resting limply on his lap. Her head was tucked beneath his chin now, breathing slow, and her fingers absently tracing little circles over the fabric of his hoodie.

Outside, the street was quiet. Melbourne’s chaos had finally settled. Inside, the only thing louder than the ticking clock in the hallway was his own thoughts.

P9.

It had stung more than he expected.

He’d pushed, taken risks, held his breath more times than he could count. The home crowd, the roar in Turn 1, the endless pressure of this weekend. He wanted a podium. He wanted more than points. And when he crossed the line, all he felt was this dull, aching hollowness.

Because he wanted to win, for the team, for the fans, for his family.

For her.

Oscar closed his eyes briefly. He remembered the sound of God Save The King echoing as Lando stepped up to the top step. The taste of disappointment, how it clung to the back of his throat during interviews. The polite claps. The fake smile. The crushing feeling of not being good enough on the one track that felt like home.

But then he came home.

And she had made him khichdi.

Warm, soft, comforting. Just like her.

She didn’t try to fix it with words. She didn’t tell him he should be proud or that P9 was still good. She just handed him a plate and looked at him like he wasn’t a result. Like he wasn’t someone the world measured in lap times.

He glanced down at her again, heart clenching a little.

Y/N. With her soft hair and stolen shirts and quiet affection. The way she could command a kitchen but still act coy when he told her she looked good. How she knew exactly what to say, and more importantly, when not to say anything at all.

She’d rooted herself into his life so naturally, so completely, that he couldn’t remember what comfort looked like without her in it.

It wasn’t just that she made things better.

It was that she was the better.

🪻🪻🪻

Y/N was rambling about a movie she’d half-watched on the flight back to Melbourne. Something about a chaotic rom-com with bad pacing and good outfits. She talked with her hands when she was animated, her eyes lighting up even though she clearly didn’t care that much about the plot.

Oscar barely registered the words. His eyes were fixed on her mouth, the soft curve of her lips, the way she bit the inside of her cheek while trying to remember an actor’s name. She was glowing in the low, warm light of the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch like she had belonged there forever.

And it hit him, like a crash he couldn’t brace for.

He loved her. Fully. Wildly. In a way that went straight to the pit of his stomach and made it hard to breathe.
It wasn’t a slow build. It was immediate. Overwhelming.
Undeniable.

And he couldn’t hold it back.

She was mid-sentence, something about the main character making a terrible decision; when he leaned in, cupping her jaw gently, eyes searching hers for only a heartbeat before he kissed her.

It was soft at first, just the brush of his mouth against hers. She stilled, surprised, hands caught in the air between them. But then he pressed in closer, kissing her properly. Deeper. Like he needed it. Like he’d been holding it back for days, weeks, maybe longer.

His hand slipped to the back of her neck, thumb brushing behind her ear as he tilted his head, letting the kiss turn warmer, fuller. She melted into him easily, fingers fisting the fabric of his t-shirt, lips parting under his as the kiss grew heavier. Hungrier.

Her breath hitched when he pulled her closer, one knee shifting so their bodies aligned more naturally. He kissed her like he was telling her everything he couldn’t yet say. With so much care it ached. With so much want it left her dizzy.

When he finally pulled back, he stayed close, forehead resting against hers, both of them catching their breath.

She blinked at him, dazed. “What was that for?”

Oscar didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her. Really looked. Eyes soft, lips swollen from the kiss, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Marry me.”

Everything in the room seemed to freeze. Her breath caught. Her fingers, still clinging to the front of his t-shirt, went limp.

She blinked. “What?”

Oscar leaned back just slightly, eyes still holding hers, but a crooked, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips now. “Not now,” he clarified quickly, his thumb brushing over her wrist in slow reassurance. “I mean… eventually. Not this second, not tomorrow. But, marry me. Someday.”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. Her brain was moving too fast, heart thudding loud in her ears.

He rushed on, gentle but urgent, as if trying to give her all the space in the world while still holding her close.

“I know it sounds insane, I do. And I didn’t plan to say it tonight, I swear. I just…” He exhaled, voice softening. “I love you so much it actually hurts. I didn’t even care that I came P9 today, not after seeing you. And when I kissed you just now, I couldn’t stop thinking how I wanted to keep coming home to you for the rest of my life. That’s all. That’s it.”

Y/N’s lips parted again, and this time, a small breath of laughter slipped out; shaky, surprised, but full of warmth. Her eyes glittered, tears threatening to rise, and she shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re such a dramatic loser,” she whispered, smiling through it.

Oscar grinned. “I know. But I meant every word.”

She leaned forward again, pressing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses brushing.

“You love me,” she said softly, like she was testing the weight of it.

“I do.”

“And you want to marry me.”

“Desperately.”

Y/N’s smile turned into a quiet laugh, and her hands slid up his chest slowly, curling around the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Someday, I’ll marry you.”

Oscar’s eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled in quiet relief, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her in again.

🪻🪻🪻

Later that night, the house had gone quiet. Oscar’s family had all turned in for the night, leaving only the soft hum of the city outside and the rustle of blankets as the two of them settled into bed.

Y/N was already curled under the duvet, still wearing his shirt, like it had always belonged to her. Oscar joined her a moment later, flicking off the bedside lamp, the room now lit only by the soft glow from the hallway.

He slipped under the covers, letting out a sigh as he stretched out beside her. After a moment, he shifted closer, tugging her into his chest with one arm thrown lazily around her waist.

She hummed, tucking her face into the curve of his neck. “You’re clingy tonight.”

“I’m traumatised,” he muttered, voice muffled in her hair.

She laughed quietly. “You’ll win in Shanghai, I promise.”

Oscar grinned against her. “I better, or I might get fired.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed. Then Oscar sat up slightly and peeled his shirt off with one smooth motion, tossing it off the side of the bed.

Y/N raised a brow in the dark, lips twitching.

“Oh? And what’s this about?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“It’s hot,” he said simply, lying back down and pulling her into him again. “And I sleep shirtless. You know that.”

“Convenient excuse,” she teased, fingers tracing lightly over his now bare chest. “What if I get hot too?”

Before she could reply, he was already sliding his hands up under the hem of the shirt she wore—his shirt—fingers warm and familiar. She let out a small gasp, half surprised and half amused, as he smoothly tugged it over her head and tossed it aside to join his on the floor.

Now she sat in just her bra, blinking at him in the low light. “Oscar!”

He was grinning shamelessly. “What? You said you might get hot.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You said yes to marrying me, get used to it,” he reminded her smugly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Regretting it already.”

“Liar.”

Y/N sighed dramatically, then nestled into his side, her bare shoulder against his warm skin.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, holding her close again. This time, no more teasing, just comfort. Just quiet. Just them.

Wrapped up in each other, skin warm under soft sheets, hearts still thudding from everything they'd said, and everything that was still to come.

And for the first time in days, Oscar slept like he hadn’t finished P9.

He slept like he’d already won.

No cheers, no champagne, no trophy this time; but for now, this was enough.

this was written while i was blasting my clairo playlist so please excuse the excessive yearning in this. also oscar piastri wdc 2025, spread the word. and as always you can request a prompt from my list if you liked this!

[cfyslvr]

Birthday boy

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→ author's note: okay so I might kill myself 😃 I started working on this fic in the morning and when I was about halfway done, I saved it to drafts- DRAFTS. and what did tumblr do? FUCKING POST IT. PUBLICLY. WHILE IT WAS STILL HALFWAY DONE. and you know what? I didn't even notice that it was posted until someone liked it 😁 so now I have like 2 hours to complete this entire thing, so I'm very sorry if it's rushed or just straight up horrible 🙏🏻 I tried my best

→ summary: spending the night of your bf's birthday alone with him before you have to share him with his friends tomorrow <3

→ content warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, fluff fluff fluff a lot of fluff, possible grammar mistakes, me suffering fron cute aggression throughout the fic

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it was just another night like every other one, chifuyu was laying in his bed, re-reading his favorite manga yet again while his cat, peke j, napped on his stomach.

december 18th, just another day. nothing special. chifuyu totally wasn't looking down at his phone every minute to check the time.

23:51

23:52

23:53

he totally wasn't waiting for the clock to strike 00:00 and for his phone to start flooding with birthday wishes from his closest friends.

he might get a few birthday wishes, but he was only anticipating one thing and one thing only.

what could that be? well, his girlfriends arrival!

since you and chifuyu were neighbors, ever since you started dating, you made it a tradition to visit each other's houses at exactly 00:00 and give each other early birthday presents so the two of you wouldn't be overshadowed by other guests on the birthday party.

the manga in his hands was long forgotten as he stared at his phone, watching as the minutes ticked away one by one.

23:56

23:57

23:58

23:59

00:00

the second the clock announced the new day, he heard a gentle knock at the front door of his apartment. chifuyu basically flew out of his room to open the door, but not before he made sure that peke j was placed nice and safe down on his bed.

he swung the door open and revealed none other than his beautiful girlfriend standing the with a beautiful smile on her beautiful face.

the second he opened the door for you, you basically pounced on him, causing him to stumble back a bit, but caught himself in the last second.

"happy birthday, fuyu!" you said excitedly, to which he let out a laugh and wrapped his arms around your waist. despite the fact he was most excited to see you, he couldn't help but notice the large bag you were holding that hit his back when you hugged him.

"thank you, baby, I was so excited to see you!" he said excitedly and lifted you up, spinning you around with you in his arms, causing you to let out a chuckle.

once he finally put you down, you gently dropped the gift bag onto the ground and instead cupped his face with your hands. he gave you a goofy grin before you leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you with a soft kiss on the lips.

the two of you stayed completely lost in the kiss until you suddenly heard a soft laugh from behind the two of you. you turned around and saw chifuyu's mom standing there, smiling warmly at the two of you.

you felt a little embarrassed for getting caught basically making out right infront of chifuyu's mom, but she didn't comment on it, instead, she just wished her son a happy birthday and gave him a kiss on the top of the head before leaving the two of you alone.

the two of you moved to chifuyu's, where you immediately greeted peke j before you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist. you rolled your eyes and turned around to face your boyfriend. you kissed the little idiot again, this time taking more time before finally pulling away, breathless.

"what did you get me?" he asked playfully.

"is that all you care about?" you teased, but nevertheless, you sat him down onto the bed and took the giant bag out again. he looked back at it excitedly, yet patiently.

you first pulled out a little envelope and handed it to him.

"read it." you commanded playfully, and he immediately complied.

chifuyu opened the envelope and took the letter out of it, reading silently.

(I'm too lazy to make up a letter, just imagine it)

by the time he was finished reading, chifuyu could feel his eyes slowly welling up with tears, you were too sweet, it never failed to make him soft.

without a word, he wrapped his arms around you waist and pulled you in, burying his face into your shoulder so you couldn't see him tearing up over a simple letter.

you laughed softly and hugged him back, one of your hands finding it's way into his hair and beginning to mindlessly play with his messy blonde hair.

"i luv u so much.. ur the best.." (I'm gonna cry he's so cute) he mumbled out, his words slightly muffled by your shoulder. you smile and kiss the side of his head, biting back a chuckle at his cuteness (omfg)

"you haven't even seen the actual gift though.." you reminded him playfully and pulled away from the hug.

"you're the best gift I could ever ask for.." (I'm gonna cry ilhsm) he said cheesily and let our a soft chuckle.

you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness and just placed the bag into his lap.

he looked back at you for a second before looking into the bag and almost immediately slapping a hand over his mouth in shock.

his eyes flickered between you and the contents of the bag a few times.

"you didn't." you did. you bought him every single volume of the manga he has been non-stop yapping about form months now.

"y/nnnn!!" he whined, not even taking the mangas out before once again jumping into your embrace and beginning to shower your face with thankful kisses, making you laugh again. (I'm gonna kiss him)

"I've been saving up and buying each volume for months now." you told him, making him let out another grateful whine. you were too amazing..

"thank you, y/n, I can't explain how grateful I am for you.." he mumbled out and gave you a loving kiss on the lips.

the two of you spent the rest of the night kissing, cuddling and reading the manga you bought him until you eventually fell asleep tangled up in each other's arms. you were glad you kept the little tradition of spending the night before your birthday's together, since you didn't quite enjoy enjoying your (fucking adorable) boyfriend with his friends.

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© cfyslvr 2024 | please don't steal or repost my work on other platforms !! | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated !!

[petals2fish]

Shut Up (Make Me)

requested by @constancezin aka love of my life: One of them steal a kiss to the other (pre relationship for more drama😁) READ ON A03

"Shut up."

She didn’t mean it.

"Make me," he replied, his voice low and daring, just before she blasted him off his feet.

James’ ass skidded along the floor, his wand flying from his hand, its arc graceful and doomed, landing in a potted plant nearby. He lay there, grinning up at her like a lovestruck fool, sprawled out on the floor as if this was exactly where he belonged. Damn, she was a force.

Staring down the end of Lily Evans’ wand had quickly become one of James Potter’s favorite pastimes. There was something about the way her green eyes blazed with determination, something that made him feel both like he might combust and that he was the luckiest idiot alive. Every glare, every roll of her eyes, every sharp word was a thrill he couldn’t seem to shake. It was why he’d agreed to these late-night rendezvous to practice duelling in the first place. To see her in action, to spar with her, to feel that electricity crackling between them. The challenge, the banter, the way she looked at him with that mixture of exasperation and undeniably adorable scrunched nose—it was intoxicating.

Tonight, like all the others, was no different.

“Why the hell are you smiling?” she demanded, exasperation laced through her voice. The sharpness of it only made his grin widen. Her frustration was just another victory in his book.

"Damn," he laughed, letting his head fall back, his chest rising and falling with each huff. 

“I just knocked you off your feet,” she said, planting her stance as she loomed over him, her wand still pointed at his chest. “The least you could do is have the decency to look upset about it.”

James let out a breathless chuckle, still sprawled across the cool stone floor of the greenhouse where he had landed. “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. If anything, he’d gladly take another hit just to keep her standing over him like this—her silhouette framed by the moonlight, her hair catching silver beams as they filtered through the warped glass panes. They’d been sneaking off to duel every Thursday now, but it wasn’t enough. He wished it were every night.

She looked ethereal.

And entirely unimpressed by his reaction to her clever charm work. 

“Yeah, yeah." She waved off his grins.

"Yeah?" He countered.

"Yeah, you’re not actually sorry.” Lily rolled her eyes, lowering her wand before extending a hand to help him up. “No need to rub it in that my wand work isn’t as good as yours.”

“I never said that” James countered, still sprawled on the stone floor, grinning up at her.

“You laughed like it was a joke.” Lily furiously brushed some of her hair back. “I’ve been practicing that charm all week to show you, it's rude to laugh.”

“It was quite charming.” James soothed. “And it did do it's job.”

Her furious expression fizzled and she tilted her head at him, "you think so?"

"You did knock me off my feet." James teased her so easily. 

There was a glint of humor in her eyes as she caught on to his pun. “I have that effect on most wizards.”

All wizards, especially James. 

James let out a quiet laugh, hesitating just long enough to make a show of it before finally clasping her hand in his. The second their fingers intertwined, that familiar, unspoken spark ignited between them—the same one that had been flickering at the edges of his interactions with her for years, never quite fading. He felt the charge travel up his arm, sharp and electric, and he knew from the way her breath caught, from the slight pink creeping up her neck, that she felt it too.

He could have let go.

Should have.

Instead, he used the momentum to pull himself up, closing the space between them and he didn’t release her hand.

Lily’s lips parted. “What are you—”

She didn’t get to finish. James silenced her with his mouth on hers, his fingers still wrapped around hers, refusing to break contact even as his other hand found her waist.

James had never known what it was like to have a girl completely melt into his arms when he kissed her—until Lily. The moment their lips met, her entire body swayed into his, as if holding herself up was no longer a priority. She wasn’t stiff or hesitant and wasn't pushing him away. Instead, she softened, leaned into him like she belonged there, like she had been waiting for this just as much as he had.

And Merlin help him, he never wanted to let her go.

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at the same time that her wand clattered to the floor. She breathed in deep through her nose, then exhaled as James let go of his hold. Her fingers wound up in his hair, tilting his head down for a better angle as her mouth opened wider against his to deepen the kissing. He carefully swept them to the left, away from their dropped wands, while still meeting her kiss for kiss. 

James felt her hips lurch into a nearby tabletop that was holding their bag, the wooden feet scraping against the cobblestones loudly. Neither of them flinched when one of the bags fell to the ground, papers scattering. She was tasting the arch in his mouth with her tongue, urging the kiss into something hotter, less controlled. This was all he wanted, everything he needed, as he felt compelled to let the hand on her waist dip against the curve of her ass. She didn't shy away, didn't stop tracing his lower lip with her hungry tongue... 

Fuck. 

Was this a dream?

James had to jolt back, his heart hammering against his ribs as reality caught up with him. This wasn’t how he had pictured kissing Lily Evans for the first time—not even close. She was supposed to shove him away, spit out the word ‘friend’ and maybe even hex him into next week. 

She was supposed to be mad at him, not mad about him. 

But when he opened his eyes, she wasn’t fuming, and wasn't pushing him away with a scathing remark. Instead, she stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, lips still slightly parted as if she hadn’t quite processed the space he’d put between them. There was no anger, no sharp-edged retort—just quiet, stunned curiosity, like she was confused why he’d stopped so suddenly. 

“Shit,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure what for. His breath hitched as he realized her hand was still tangled in his hair, fingernails ghosting over his scalp, sending little shivers down his spine.

“You didn't mean to kiss me tonight,” she whispered, her green eyes locked onto his, searching—like she was trying to find something hidden among the freckles and summer-worn tan of his face. "Did you?"

"Not really."

"I figured."

His heart was still racing. “But—” he started, the words catching in his throat. “I'm happy to do it."

"I should hope so." Her blunt answer was dripping with sarcasm, her usual humor.

"Why now?” He let the words tumble from his traitorous lips that could have been snogging her still if he hadn't stopped it. 

Lily exhaled sharply, like she’d been expecting the question but wasn’t sure how to answer it. Her fingers, still tangled in his hair, slid down to rest against the nape of his neck, warm and at home there. She felt so right, like she’d studied the book of James Potter and knew exactly what drove him mad. 

"You grew on me," Lily admitted, her green eyes flickering with something soft, something pure. "Slowly. Weirdly. Then one day I woke up and all at once, you were all I wanted." She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head as if exasperated with herself. "I don’t know why it happened, James. I just know that it did."

James stared at her, stunned into silence, his mind scrambling to catch up. Years—actual years—of fawning after her, of grand gestures and foolish antics, of hoping and failing and trying again. None of it had ever worked. And yet, here she was, looking at him like he was something worth falling for. 

His throat felt dry as he managed, "When?" He tightened his fingers in the fabric of her robes, needing to tether himself to this moment, to her.

Lily snorted, nostrils flaring at the demand in his tone. "I don’t know... last year, maybe?"

"Last year?" James groaned, releasing her only to clutch dramatically at his chest. "You mean to tell me that we could have been snogging this entire time?"

She couldn’t resist her laugh, crossing her arms as she smirked at his antics. "Well, maybe if you had realized that every time I asked you to hang out alone, it was because I fancy you something awful, then yes, we could have been snogging for quite some time now."

James froze. His head tilted, blinking at her as if she had just spoken in a language he didn’t understand. "Wait. Wait. Hold on. You were—? And I—? And you thought—?" His voice rose with each half-formed thought until he was practically sputtering.

Lily was clearly amused, the light was dancing in her eyes. "I wasn’t sure if you still felt that way about me," she admitted, slipping her wand into the curly bun at the nape of her neck, her expression soft-lined despite the teasing tilt of her lips.

James lunged forward, catching both of her hands in his. "Lily Evans," he said, breathless, his palms warm against hers, "I have fancied you since the moment you hexed me in first year for—well, actually, I can’t remember what I did, but I’m sure I deserved it."

"You absolutely deserved it," Lily murmured, slipping one hand from his grasp so she could hold onto the fold in the neck of his robes. 

“We’ll agree to disagree.” James grinned, undeterred. "But I have fancied you every single day since then," he continued, captivated. "Even when you yelled at me, even when you ignored me, even when you looked at me like I was the rag that washed the bottom of your freakish feet—"

She gasped, scandalized, and tugged his earlobe between two fingers pointedly. "You cannot talk about my feet when your ears could keep you aloft, James Potter!"

James threw his head back in laughter, the warmth of their jokes–their personal jokes–filling him. "Fair point," he conceded, closing the space between them. His voice dropped to something softer, something teasing but undeniably affectionate. "But I’d still massage your ugly feet, Evans. I’m a gentleman, after all."

Lily tilted her chin, unimpressed by his attempts at chivalry. "Have you ever considered getting your ears pierced? Maybe then they’d be too heavy to flap in the wind on your broomstick."

Her laughter twinkled between them, and he opened his mouth to retort, but then he caught the gleam of silver sparkle in her ears and stilled. "Speaking of earrings," he mused, reaching up to brush his thumb over the tiny studs nestled against her freckled skin, "I see you’re wearing the ones I got you last Christmas."

Lily blinked, as if she were suddenly aware of them in a way she hadn’t been moments before. "So?" she said, feigning nonchalance.

"I lied last Christmas," James murmured smugly. "Those are real diamonds."

Lily's jaw dropped. "James! We had a two-galleon spending limit! You promised me we’d stick to it!"

"What?" James grinned as if he hadn’t just casually admitted to gifting her actual diamonds. "I was spoiling my future snogging partner."

Lily gaped at him. "You didn’t know we’d start snogging until five minutes ago!"

James shrugged. "Fine. I was spoiling my future girlfriend."

Her eyes lit up like those diamonds in her ears. "You were that certain you'd date me?" she asked, half-surprised, half-impressed.

His tone was light but sincere. "I was that certain I cared about you enough, that I wanted to get you something nice." He gave her a look that was both cocky and soft. "I hoped for way longer than that, though," he added, winking as if he hadn’t just completely upended her perception of him with that admission. "I hoped you'd eventually see how badly I wanted--how much I--how stupid you've made me." 

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head in disbelief. The fight in her was half-hearted at best, her lips betraying her with a smile that was far too easy. "I should’ve known," she muttered. "You were always staring at me with that stupidly adorable smile. Just like you were when I knocked you down a minute ago."

James appreciated the wrinkles in her nose as she scrunched it up. "That was an ambush, by the way."

"You had it coming for you." Lily' eyes flickered down to his mouth and then away just as quickly. "I was perfectly content with just being your friend. And then you smiled—this stupidly attractive, annoyingly charming smile—and I just... yeah."

His breath hitched. Yeah. He wanted to bottle up that single word, tuck it away in the corner of his heart where he kept all the times she had unknowingly set him alight. Lily probably didn’t know the implications behind her ‘yeah’ but to James it meant she was so infatuated with him that she couldn’t even find words. 

He left her speechless. 

His grin wrinkled his eyes, slow and triumphant, raw, and real. "So, what you’re saying," he mused, voice light but brimming with a quiet sort of wonder, "is that I finally wore you down because you like my smile."

Lily’s fingers—the loveliest things—were still curled loosely around his collar, holding him in place. "I suppose you could say that your smile knocked me off my feet." 

He pinched her through her robes. "I have that effect on most witches.”

"Shut up," she muttered, cheeks unmistakably rosy and eyes filled with emeralds.

His lips twitched upwards smugly, knowing it got to her. "Make me."

[pedriache]

Hello hope you're well. Could I maybe please request Pablo Gavi x reader who is sick and also with this prompt "You must love me a lot." "Obviously, idiot" "What now you're insulting a sick person?" Only write this if you want and feel free to include or exclude any of the prompt. Thank you😁

Lovesick — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being sick was the worst, but luckily you have the best boyfriend in the world.

Word count: 576

Disclaimer/s: reader has a bad cold , otherwise just fluff!

A/N: need this man sooo bad.

Waking up to your head throbbing, was the worst thing in the world, to say the least. Nose stuffed and itchy, the universe clearly wasn’t on your side. Turning over in bed, your lip pulls into a smile. Your boyfriends worried face is the first thing you’re met with, and although you were sickly and nauseous, he still left you with a fluttering stomach.

“Good morning.” He grins tiredly, his voice raspy from sleep. Gavi turns on his side, rolling over to give you a kiss, which you quickly decline.

Dodging his lips, you are quick to explain why when you see the hurt flash across his face. “I’m sick! I woke up and my throat’s burning and my nose is stuffy! I’m not purposely avoiding a kiss, just don’t want to infect you.”

Gavi doesn’t look pleased in the least, not because of the kiss, but because the worry that took over. “You’re sick? How? You seemed fine yesterday.” His eyebrows knit together, hand reaching out to press against your forehead.

“I know, it’s hot, was the first thing I checked. I must’ve got something when I was visiting my family a few days ago and it just kicked in.” You shrug, shuffling to sit upwards but wince, pain shooting through your head.

The brunette takes that as his cue to get up, “lay down, stay there.” He instructs, pulling a shirt over his head and fixing his tussled sleep hair.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, eyebrow lifting in curiosity as you watch your boyfriend maneuver around the bedroom.

“Going to get you water and some meds.” He answers, not giving you another chance to speak as he makes his way out of the bedroom.

Laying back down, you snuggle up in bed to get more comfortable. You make sure to turn away from the blindes, the less light, the better.

It’s not long before Gavi is kneeling on the ground beside your bed, “drink this, take this, and i’ll call your mom to get that soup she makes when she comes over.” He gives you a small, comforting smile.

Your lips jut out, “aww, you must love me a lot.” There’s a teasing tone in your voice, but you really did mean it. Gavi always cared for you without you even having to ask.

“Obviously, idiot.” He huffs, lips pulling into a small smirk.

A gasp leaves your lips while you take the pill and glass of water from his hands. “Oh, so you’re insulting a sick person now?” You feign offense, head shaking in disbelief.

Gavi laughs, “take the meds and get some rest. I’m going to go call your mom.” He leans forward, like an instinct to kiss you, but purses his lips and leans back. “Right, no sickness for me.” So instead, he presses two fingers to his lips then plants them on your soft lips. The makeshift kiss would have to do for now.

“You’re adorable when you want to be, y’know that?” You hum, taking a second to pop the pill into your mouth and taking a sip of water to hide the growing grin on your lips.

Gavi, now standing, raises an eyebrow. “I’m always adorable, what are you talking about?” He’s walking backwards towards the door, hands cupping his cheeks to add a dramatic effect.

Despite how much it hurt, you laugh, your smile reaching your eyes as you watch his figure disappear behind the door.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl !

[novamariestark]

Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

[amethystarachnid]

CAFFEINE CHEMISTRY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: You were just ordering coffee in your favorite coffee shop, you couldn't imagine that the Tony Stark would bump into you and almost spilling his coffee on you. You couldn't imagine that he'd offer to buy you a coffee, or that he'd take you on a date, but he does. Love can be really strange sometimes.

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff, fluff and did I say fluff?

ᯓ★ AU: Coffee Shop

ᯓ★ Request: Coffee Shop AU with Tony? 😁😁😁 Tony and Reader bumping into each other at the Coffee Shop, they'll fall in love instantly, have coffee together, and share their first kiss in this very same Coffee Shop 😻 (@ts-rdj-reader)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the coffee shop, the scent of freshly brewed espresso instantly enveloping you in warmth. The early morning rush is still in full swing, the sound of soft chatter blending with the hum of the espresso machines. It’s your usual routine—order a cappuccino, find a quiet corner, and ease into the day with a good book or some light people-watching. Today, though, something feels different. There’s a buzz in the air, one you can’t quite place.

You step up to the counter, eyes scanning the familiar chalkboard menu. Just as you’re about to place your order, you feel someone brush past you—smooth, quick, and unintentional. A soft "Sorry," is muttered beside you, and you glance to your right to see the man responsible.

Your breath hitches.

There, standing beside you, is Tony Stark.

Yes, the Tony Stark. The billionaire, genius, and former Avenger, dressed in an effortlessly casual suit jacket and jeans, looking far too polished for a quaint little coffee shop like this. His tousled hair, just the right amount of disheveled, suggests he's in no rush despite the hurried world around him. His sharp brown eyes meet yours, and something crackles in the air—like electricity, only warmer.

For a second, you think he’s just going to move on, but then he doesn’t. His eyes linger on you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as intrigued as you are.

“Didn’t mean to steal your spot,” he says, voice smooth and rich, with just the faintest hint of amusement. “But since we’re here, what’s your go-to order? I could use some inspiration.”

Your brain fumbles to catch up. Is he seriously making small talk with me?

“Uh… cappuccino,” you manage to say, grateful you didn’t sound like a total idiot. “Simple, but classic.”

He tilts his head, considering your answer like it’s a revelation. “I like it. Straight to the point.”

He steps forward, leaning against the counter, but not before turning back to you with a wink. “Why don’t I buy that cappuccino for you? Call it an apology for nearly knocking you over.”

Your heart flutters. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I insist,” Tony grins, that signature charm radiating off him. “It’s not every day I almost spill coffee on a beautiful woman.”

The compliment lands softly, but it lingers. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, the combination of his smooth confidence and that irresistible smirk doing something to your senses. Is it the caffeine in the air, or is this moment actually happening?

“Okay,” you say, the word coming out breathless.

Minutes later, the two of you are sitting in a booth by the window, cups of coffee between you. The conversation is surprisingly easy—there’s no awkward small talk, no weirdness about the fact that he’s Tony Stark and you’re, well, you. His sharp wit is on full display, throwing quick jokes and playful jabs that make you laugh more than you expect.

“You come here often?” he asks, lifting his cup to his lips, his gaze intense yet casual, like he’s genuinely curious.

“I do,” you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s kind of my safe space. A little escape from… everything.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Everything, huh? Sounds like someone’s running from a supervillain.”

“More like running from emails and work deadlines,” you chuckle.

“Ah, the real enemies.” He gives a mock shudder. “I know the feeling. I’ll take fighting alien invasions over paperwork any day.”

You shake your head, unable to keep from smiling. “Must be tough, being Tony Stark and all.”

“You’d be surprised,” he quips, his tone softening. “It gets a little easier when you’ve got good company.”

For a moment, the air stills between you. It’s a simple exchange, but the way his eyes soften as he says it makes something in your chest tighten. You can feel the connection growing, a pull between you that you can’t quite explain but can’t deny.

It’s only been minutes, but with Tony, time seems to slow. Everything else fades—the noise, the people, the coffee shop—and it’s just you and him.

The conversation flows effortlessly, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not constantly checking your watch or thinking about the endless to-do list waiting for you. Instead, you’re entirely focused on Tony—his stories, his charm, the way he makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

You’ve only just finished your cappuccino when Tony glances at his watch. “Looks like I’ve got to run,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly thrilled about it. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek phone that practically screams Stark Technology, tapping the screen for a moment.

“Duty calls?” you ask, hiding the small pang of disappointment you feel at the thought of him leaving.

“Something like that,” he says with a small smirk, but then his gaze flickers back to yours, and his expression softens just a bit. “But I’m not disappearing completely.”

He pulls a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and grabs one of the napkins sitting on the table between you. His movements are quick and precise, scribbling something down with a casual ease, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

When he’s done, he slides the napkin across the table toward you.

“There,” he says, leaning back in his seat, looking at you with that same self-assured glint in his eye. “My number.”

You blink, looking down at the napkin where a string of digits sits, accompanied by his name in a scrawl that’s almost too perfect to be spontaneous. Tony Stark. You can't help but smile.

“Is this a habit of yours?” you tease, picking up the napkin between your fingers. “Giving your number to strangers in coffee shops?”

His grin widens, eyes crinkling at the edges in that effortlessly charming way that makes your pulse race. “Only the pretty ones,” he quips, without missing a beat. “Besides, I’m not in the habit of letting someone as intriguing as you walk away without leaving a way to keep in touch.”

The blush creeps up your cheeks again, and you’re not sure whether it’s the compliment or the easy confidence with which he says it. Either way, you’re not used to this kind of attention—at least not from someone like him.

“You sure about this?” you ask, half-joking, but the uncertainty lingers. “I mean, you’re Tony Stark. Don’t you have a million other things to do than hand out your number to random people?”

He stands up, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug, “but I always make time for the things that matter.” His tone softens, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of something more than the brash, confident persona he usually projects.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t quite come out fast enough. Before you know it, Tony’s slipping on his sunglasses, looking every bit the billionaire playboy you’ve seen splashed across countless magazine covers. He gives you one last, lingering look, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says, flashing that trademark smirk before turning to head for the door.

The bell above the entrance rings again as he leaves, and you sit there, staring at the napkin in your hand, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

Tony Stark just gave you his number.

A quiet laugh escapes you as you fold the napkin carefully, slipping it into your bag, the moment sinking in. The world around you slowly comes back into focus—the chatter of the coffee shop, the clinking of cups—but the entire space feels different now, as if it’s been infused with the lingering presence of something exciting and new.

Your fingers tap lightly on the table, a smile playing on your lips as you wonder: should you call him?

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you out of your thoughts. It’s a notification for another email, another reminder of the world you momentarily escaped. But today? Today, you feel like the rules have changed.

Glancing back toward the door where Tony disappeared, you can’t help but feel a tinge of excitement. It’s not every day that life throws you into the path of someone like Tony Stark, and it’s definitely not every day he leaves his number behind.

The sun has long since set by the time you find yourself back at your apartment, the warm glow of your bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. You’re freshly showered and cozily wrapped in your favorite pajamas, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as you settle into bed with your phone in hand.

All day, you’ve been replaying the coffee shop encounter in your head, Tony’s charming smile and sharp wit still lingering in your thoughts. And now, as you sit here in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t help but wonder about the napkin tucked safely into your bag.

Should I text him? It feels surreal—like something out of a daydream—but the longer you stare at the screen, the more you realize how much you want to hear from him again.

With a deep breath, you grab the napkin from your bag, the numbers now more familiar to you than they should be after only a few hours. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you finally type:

You: Hey Tony, it’s Y/N, from the coffee shop this morning. Hope this is the right number!

You hit send before you can overthink it, your heart beating just a little too fast as you watch the message fly off into the digital void. A nervous excitement simmers in your chest as you wait for a reply, wondering if maybe this was all too good to be true.

Barely a minute later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help but feel a small thrill as his name lights up your screen.

Tony: Y/N, glad you texted. Would’ve been a shame if I gave my number to the wrong beautiful woman.

You laugh quietly to yourself, the tension easing from your shoulders. Even through text, he’s as smooth as ever.

You: Good thing I double-checked it! I almost didn’t text… wasn’t sure if I’d end up bothering you.

The reply comes back almost instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.

Tony: Bothering me? Trust me, I get a hundred texts a day that are a bother—this isn’t one of them. I was actually hoping you’d reach out.

You bite your lip, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. For a moment, you sit there, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but deep down you’re excited. There’s something about him that’s hard to resist, even in this casual back-and-forth.

You: Well, here I am! So, did you mean what you said earlier? About making time for things that matter?

Tony: I did. And it just so happens, I’ve got some time this weekend. What do you think—wanna grab dinner?

You blink at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. Tony Stark wants to take me out to dinner? It’s almost too much to believe, but the flirty tone of his texts and the fact that he’s so forward about it only makes you smile wider.

You: Dinner sounds great. Where were you thinking?

There’s a pause this time—longer than before—like he’s weighing his options before replying. When the message finally comes through, you can practically hear the playful grin in his words.

Tony: How do you feel about Italian? There’s this little place I know, candlelit, great wine, and the best tiramisu in town. I can pick you up—let’s say 7:30 on Saturday?

Italian food and candlelight? You can already picture it: an intimate restaurant, soft lighting, the sound of wine glasses clinking as you talk over plates of delicious food. And with Tony Stark across the table from you? It’s hard to say no.

You: Italian sounds perfect. 7:30 works for me!

Tony: It’s a date. I’ll be the guy in the sharp suit with flowers, just to set the mood. ;) Looking forward to it, Y/N.

You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your face as you read his text. The thought of Tony showing up at your door with flowers, dressed to the nines, makes your stomach flip in the best way.

You: I’ll be the one trying not to get too distracted by the sharp suit, then. ;) See you Saturday, Tony.

Tony: Can’t wait.

You toss your phone onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling with a rush of giddy excitement. Saturday feels like it can’t come soon enough.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath as your mind drifts, imagining the upcoming evening. There’s something about Tony that makes it impossible to be anything but excited, and if the way he handled himself in the coffee shop is any indication, this date is going to be one you won’t forget.

Saturday night comes faster than you expect, the hours leading up to your date a blur of anticipation and nervous excitement. You’ve spent far more time than usual trying on different outfits, finally settling on something that strikes the perfect balance between casual and classy. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you smooth your dress one last time in front of the mirror.

It’s a little past 7:20 when you hear a knock at your door.

Right on time, you think, your heart skipping a beat as you make your way to the door.

When you open it, your breath catches in your throat.

There he is—Tony Stark—standing in the hallway looking impossibly handsome. He’s dressed in a tailored dark suit, the kind that’s perfectly fitted and effortlessly stylish, but not too formal for a casual evening out. In his hand, a small bouquet of flowers, vivid and colorful against the muted tones of his outfit.

“Told you I’d bring flowers,” he says with a grin, holding them out to you.

You blink, feeling your cheeks flush as you take the bouquet, the soft scent of roses filling the air. “These are beautiful. Thank you, Tony.”

He gives a small, playful shrug. “I had to start the night off right.” His eyes sweep over you, and his smile softens as he takes in your outfit. “You look stunning, by the way.”

Tony steps back to offer you his arm after you've placed the bouquet on the table. “Come on, let’s see if I can keep you distracted with dinner instead.”

You lock the door behind you, slipping your arm through his as the two of you make your way down to his sleek, black sports car waiting at the curb. The engine purrs to life as Tony opens the passenger door for you, and before you know it, you’re driving through the city, the lights blurring into a soft, romantic glow.

The restaurant Tony chose is everything he promised it would be—an intimate little Italian place tucked away from the bustle of the main streets. The warm, golden lighting, paired with the quiet hum of conversations and clinking glasses, creates an atmosphere that feels both cozy and elegant. You can already smell the rich aroma of garlic, fresh herbs, and baked bread wafting through the air as you’re led to a candlelit table near the back.

Tony pulls out your chair for you, the simple gesture sending a soft warmth through you. You glance around the room, taking in the ambiance, before your eyes land on him again.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely at ease in the romantic setting.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice sincere. “I feel like I’m in one of those hidden gem restaurants only locals know about.”

Tony grins. “Exactly. Not too flashy, but still a good spot. I don’t like all the attention, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t like attention?”

He laughs, the sound low and easy, and you can’t help but join him. “Okay, maybe I don’t mind it sometimes. But tonight, it’s just about good food and good company.”

The waiter arrives, and after Tony orders a bottle of red wine, the two of you dive into conversation. Just like in the coffee shop, the exchange is effortless—witty banter, shared stories, and small moments that feel surprisingly comfortable.

“So,” Tony says, after a few sips of wine, “what made you come back to that coffee shop so often? I’m guessing it’s not just for the cappuccinos.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of the wine settling into your system. “It’s kind of my escape,” you admit, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s a place where I can just… be. No expectations, no stress. Just me and my thoughts for a little while.”

Tony nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get that. I’ve got a few places like that myself. Though, to be honest, I think my usual escapes are a little less peaceful than yours.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Less peaceful? Like, more Iron Man and less cappuccino?”

He laughs, a sound that draws the attention of the nearby table for just a moment. “Something like that. But I’m trying to find a better balance these days. Maybe I’ll start hanging out in coffee shops more often.”

“Oh yeah? You planning on bumping into more strangers?” you tease, unable to keep the smile from your face.

“Only if they’re as interesting as you,” Tony says, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, the waiter returns with your food—plates of pasta that look mouth-wateringly delicious. The conversation slows as you both dig into the meal, but even in the quiet moments, there’s a comfortable energy between you. Tony’s gaze meets yours occasionally, his eyes softening with something warmer than the playful charm he usually carries.

By the time dessert arrives—the best tiramisu in town, as promised—the two of you are fully immersed in conversation again. Between bites of the rich, creamy dessert, Tony shares a story about an invention that went hilariously wrong, and you can’t help but laugh until your sides ache.

“Well,” he says, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely pleased with himself, “I think I’ve officially distracted you from the sharp suit.”

You smile, wiping a tear from your eye as you recover from laughing. “I think you have.”

As the evening winds down, Tony insists on driving you back to your apartment, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stroll side by side. The city feels quieter now, the streets less crowded, the world somehow more intimate.

When you finally reach your door, you turn to face him, feeling the weight of the evening settling in. There’s a pause, a quiet moment where neither of you speaks, but the air between you is charged with something new, something unspoken.

“I had a great time tonight,” you say softly, meeting his gaze.

Tony smiles, his eyes warm and a little softer than they’ve been all evening. “So did I. We should do this again.”

You nod, your heart racing as he steps just a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours. For a brief second, you think he might lean in—but instead, he reaches up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to leave you breathless.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He steps back, giving you one last smile before turning to walk away. You watch him go, feeling the warmth of his presence linger even after he disappears around the corner.

As you unlock your door and step inside, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Tonight wasn’t just a date—it was the start of something more. And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

It’s been a few weeks since your first date with Tony, and in that time, you’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm with him—texts exchanged throughout the day, phone calls that stretch late into the night, and a few more spontaneous meet-ups that have kept the spark between you alive and growing.

Tonight is no different, though Tony’s kept the details of your date a secret. You’re sitting in his car once again, watching the city lights flash by as you try to pry information out of him.

“So,” you begin with a playful grin, “you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

Tony glances over, smirking. “And ruin the surprise? Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth, you’re enjoying the mystery. There’s something thrilling about not knowing what he has planned, something exciting about the idea that he’s gone out of his way to surprise you.

The car slows, and you realize you’ve entered a quieter part of the city, the streets familiar in a way that feels comforting. Your heart skips a beat as the car pulls up in front of a small building, the soft glow of string lights twinkling in the windows.

It’s the coffee shop. The coffee shop where you first met.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say, turning to Tony with wide eyes.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Thought it’d be poetic, bringing you back here. Full circle, right?”

You blink, a warmth spreading through your chest as you take in the sight of the little coffee shop that, on that fateful morning, changed everything. There’s something undeniably sweet about the gesture, about Tony remembering the exact place where your paths first crossed.

He steps out of the car, walking around to open your door like he always does. “Come on,” he says, offering you his hand. “I figured we could relive our ‘first date.’ Except this time, you don’t have to worry about me almost spilling coffee on you.”

You laugh, taking his hand as you step out of the car. “I don’t know, that was part of the charm.”

He chuckles as you walk hand in hand toward the entrance. The soft bell chimes as you step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries filling the air. It’s quieter than it was that morning, more intimate. There are fewer people, and the dim lighting makes the place feel even cozier.

Tony leads you to the same table where you sat that day, by the window. It’s almost eerie how perfectly everything aligns—the same seats, the same warm ambiance. Except this time, it feels different. Deeper.

“This place must have some kind of magic,” Tony says, sliding into the seat across from you. “I mean, look at us now.”

You smile softly, leaning forward slightly. “I think it has more to do with the guy who bought me coffee.”

He gives you that trademark grin, the one that makes your stomach flip, and you find yourself wondering how someone like Tony—brilliant, successful, larger-than-life—could feel so comfortable, so right, sitting here with you in this small coffee shop.

The conversation flows as easily as ever, and you’re reminded of why this connection with Tony feels so different. It’s not just the playful banter or the shared laughter, but the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room, the only one that matters.

After what feels like no time at all, you realize the shop is starting to close for the night. You both rise from the table, and just as you’re about to head toward the door, Tony pauses, his hand catching yours.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, more serious. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You turn to face him, your heart suddenly beating faster as you take in the slight shift in his demeanor. The playful smirk is still there, but there’s something else in his eyes—something warmer, more intense.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Tony takes a small step closer, his hand still holding yours as his thumb brushes lightly over your skin. “This… what we’ve been doing, I mean. Us. It’s been… well, it’s been great. But I was thinking maybe we should make it official.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the words settling between you like a soft confession. Official?

“You mean, like… a couple?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

Tony nods, his gaze never wavering. “Yeah. I want this to be real. I want you to be mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. But then, you feel the weight of it—the vulnerability in his words, the sincerity behind them—and your heart swells.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile tugs at his lips, and before you know it, he’s stepping even closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch is warm, tender, and your breath hitches as you realize what’s about to happen.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, yet filled with a kind of quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer as you melt into the kiss, your arms instinctively wrapping around him. It feels like the culmination of everything that’s been building between you—the stolen glances, the late-night conversations, the subtle touches.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, and you’re both smiling, breathless.

“Well,” Tony says, his voice low, “that’s one way to seal the deal.”

You laugh softly, your hands still resting on his chest as you shake your head. “Only you would make our first kiss part of a contract negotiation.”

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your heart is racing, or the way your entire body feels light and warm. This is real—he’s real—and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re exactly where you want to be.

As you step outside the coffee shop together, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking into a new chapter. And with Tony Stark by your side, you know this is just the beginning.

Soft!Tony is probably one of my favorite Tony variant lol. If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog or even a comment or follow!

[a-slut-for-smut]

im sorry but why are we not talking about this more??? Theres like an essay in this one scene that really opens a window to their dynamic with one another, MAPPA really came through

I mean, you got that explicit implication Gojo purposefully goads Utahime to the point where shes chasing him down to whoop his ass and he absolutely LOVES it (just look at his shit-eating grin!!) because theres nothing he wants more than to be chased by her 😁And everyone else just watching the show like its nothing new, how their antics are just a regular occurrence they have to put up with 🙄

Then the sugushoko vibes!!! Them casually taking in the scene together and basically shaking their heads because unlike Gojo they're far more subtle and poised with their courtship rituals (with great success 😆)

And Mei Mei in the corner coyly making mental bets on when Gojo and Utahime will finally clap cheeks (it takes a while because theyre such idiots but she hits the jackpot eventually according to brainrot)

Man i could dine, no, FEAST on this one screencap for years

[krisdreaming]

hello! this is fr my first time requesting for a oneshot. i have this scenario that i CANT get out of my head and i really love how you articulate things so 😁😁😁

basically it is volleyball national match between japan and argentina where reader is a huge oikawa fan but is engaged to osamu. they went to check on atsumu before the game and reader BEGS atsumu to get them a pic with oikawa in which atsumu replies with; " 'samu are you hearing this?!" and osamu goes "theyre my fiancee. believe me, im more pissed than you are." both of the twins are half-jokingly upset that reader is more happy to see oikawa but reader made it clear that they are rooting for japan!

reader ends up getting a pic with oikawa, osamu being the one taking the pic with a scowl on his face.

i just thought it would be funny hehe

Hihi anon, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get to this one ;-; If you're reading this, you should know that it's been in the back of my mind ever since you first sent it. I've always been intending to write it, and I was just waiting for the perfect inspiration. And it finally hit me! It's Olympics time baby.

Pairing: Miya Osamu x gn!reader (but... it's not really the main focus?)

WC: 1k

"What did ya just ask me?" Osamu runs his fingers through his still-wet hair. He just stepped out of the bathroom, and you dropped a bomb on him.

"I said, do you think Atsumu can get me in to meet Oikawa Tooru tomorrow?" You bounce eagerly on the hotel bed.

"Ya do know Oikawa is on the opposite team, right?" Osamu asks slowly, and you flop back onto the bed with a groan.

"Of course, I'm not an idiot! It's just - you know I went to Aoba Johsai. I was a first year when Oikawa was a third year, so obviously I never actually met him, but my friends and I were kind of obsessed with him," You actually giggle. "Just imagine the looks on their faces when I get a photo with him!"

"It's like ya don't know my brother at all," Osamu sighs as he lifts the covers to crawl in bed. You scramble up and scoot in next to him. "Do ya know what it's gonna do to him if ya ask him that?"

"He's a big boy," You say breezily. "I think he can handle it."

Osamu just shakes his head, leaning over to turn off the lamp. "Just make sure he knows it was all your idea," He says pointedly, pulling the blanket up and settling back against his pillows.

"Just think," You sigh, snuggling your cheek against his bicep, "Tomorrow I'm going to meet the Oikawa Tooru."

"Yer already practically related to the Miya Atsumu. Isn't that enough?" He grumbles.

"He's old news," You chuckle, and Osamu huffs what could almost be considered a laugh through his nose.

"Whatever. Just get some sleep. Big day tomorrow." He presses a kiss to your lips. You settle in against his chest, but you aren't feeling very tired at all.

The next morning, Osamu grips your hand tight as you wind your way through the Olympic stadium. It's so full of people and sounds and lights, it almost makes you dizzy. Eventually, you hear Atsumu bellow your and Osamu's names.

"You're here!" He pulls you both into a bone crushing hug. "Ya all ready to cheer for me? I want ta hear ya yelling all the way on the court." He grins.

"Of course!" You say, completely sincere. "You're gonna kill it today, 'Tsumu." You sock him on the arm. He almost turns to go, but you stop him.

"Wait, 'Tsumu!" You say. "I've got a teeny, tiny favor to ask you." He narrows his eyes, and Osamu backs slightly away, as if denying any kind of association with you in this moment.

"What kinda favor?" He asks slowly. Your grin widens.

"Is there any way you can get me in to meet Oikawa Tooru?" You ask, clasping your hands in front of yourself and pasting on your best puppy dog look. Atsumu immediately swings around to glare at Osamu, who throws his hands up in defense.

"Are ya hearin' this?" He almost yells.

"I've been hearin' it for the last 24 hours," Osamu exaggerates drily. "And it wasn't my idea, 'Tsumu! Swear! Ya think I want my fiancée meetin' that pretty boy?"

Atsumu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Yer lucky I love ya," He finally bites out, and you can't hold back your excited squeak.

"Seriously?! Thanks, 'Tsumu!" You throw your arms around him, and he huffs.

"Guess we gotta hurry," He grumbles, turning on his heel. You grab for Osamu and practically drag him along behind you. Before you know it, you're surrounded with the team Argentina colors.

"Hiya," Atsumu approaches one of the team's managers and gestures to you, "Is Oikawa-san around? Got somebody that'd like to meet him."

"Oh? Someone looking for me?" At the sound of his voice, you turn, suddenly feeling like you're back in high school again, and just a little bit star struck.

"Oikawa-san!" You blurt out, "I was such a huge fan of yours in high school!" You can hear Atsumu feign a gag behind you, but you ignore him.

"No way, really?" Oikawa laughs, delighted. "I don't always get to meet such dedicated fans." He turns and rattles off something in Spanish to someone behind him. She produces a glossy photograph, and he scribbles his signature across it.

"Oh, wow," You gush, carefully gripping the photo so as not to smudge the fresh autograph.

"Hey, you got your phone there? We can get a quick picture." You pull it from your pocket immediately, pulling up the camera with shaky hands. Your friends are going to lose their minds.

"Here," Oikawa hands your phone to the same manager who'd just handed him the photo, and she holds it up, ready to snap the photo. When you turn to pose with him, you catch a glimpse of Osamu, arms crossed over his chest. The frown crinkling his brow is absolutely adorable. Atsumu, meanwhile, is cradling his forehead in his palm.

Oikawa slides his arm around you, the two of you smile, and that quickly, the photo is snapped.

"Thank you so much!" You retrieve your phone. "My friends aren't gonna believe this. This was so great of you, Oikawa-san."

"No problem," He gives his hand a wave, "Can I count on you cheering for me?" He asks, flashing you one of his signature grins. You feel your smile falter.

"Sorry," You say, biting your lip, "That's one thing I can't do."

His eyes dart to the twins, and to your surprise, he barks out a laugh. "Guess I should have expected that! He's a lucky guy to have you cheering for him."

"My future brother-in-law," You explain quickly, feeling Osamu's eyes boring into you. Oikawa laughs again, delighted.

"Don't you worry. I'll give him hell just for you." He winks, and you can't help but laugh at that.

"Thanks again!" You say quickly.

"Anytime," He says amiably, turning back to his team.

The twins descend on you immediately. You proudly display the photo on your phone, but Atsumu reaches for the signed photo in your hand.

"What the hell did ya need ta get his autograph for?" Atsumu grumbles.

"Oi!" Osamu reaches for your phone and peers a little closer at the photo. "Is that his hand on yer hip?"

You link your arms through both of theirs appeasingly, grinning widely. Would you look at that? You've managed to make both Miya twins jealous at once.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Just because 😁

(Jinx verse if she had to go out of town with Russ)

You knew there was some training you were going to have to catch up on when you got back. Stella had told you there was even cross over with squad and the unit. You expected a little chaos. You however had not expected to open a facetime from your fiance with a Adam spinning around in the background and both of them in the river in full gear.

"Please tell me you're recording this call so I can add that audio that says spinning like a ballerina to him?" you asked with a laugh and Jay grinned "Oh yeah, definitely. Just wanted you to see what you were missing Honey" you shook your head "Looks like fun"

He shook his head "The river is fucking cold, Ruzek is an idiot and I miss you" you smiled "I miss you too, I'll be home in two days then I have to do that same training" he grinned "Don't worry I'll volunteer to do it all over again with you"

Adam came sloshing up behind him "I will too Jinxy" and Jay glared at him "Call her Jinxy again and I will drown you" "Jay" you scolded and he rolled his eyes "I won't drown Ruz..just because I love you" "I love you too" you replied and Adam splashed away laughing "I love you too Jinx!" then the call went black.

Russ walked up behind you "You couldn't have searched the world over and found a man or a unit better suited for you" you laughed "Believe me, I know"

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events (S.R) - sneak peek

After The (Un)Expected, I'm bringing you another (un)original title for a very fluffy fic with some idiots-to-lovers/friends-to-lovers vibes and soft!Steve and maybe some spicy sprinkles going on a hiking trip with other SHIELD agents and Avengers 🏕️☀️

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!reader WC: 400 Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a teeny bit of blood, mention of a more serious injury

As soon as you stood up, Steve was carefully cradling the back of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was friends.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

-.🏕️.-

Yes, I'm posting this partly as a motivation to finish it as soon as possible 🤭

Yes, the amount of fluff packed into the story is bad for my health, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make🫡

Yes, I'm hoping you' enjoyed/will enjoy 💕

Yes, we're at 7,5k and not done, thank you for asking 😂 It's a series of (un)fortunate events, it takes words to get there😁

[dangerpronebuddie]

😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

I’m desperately trying to write to! If I can’t write for me I’ll get you going 😘

I'm throwing every writing bean I can spare your way my dear! 😘😘

I also miscounted, so you get some extra sentences 😁:

Allen reaches out towards Eddie, but the nurses wheel him out of reach before he can grab him. Thank god. Chim also shoves Eddie towards another nurse, with directions for X-rays for a possible wrist fracture. Some time later, that possibility is confirmed, and Eddie is the not so proud owner of a cast for the foreseeable future. He stares- more accurately pouts- at the green wrapping around the plaster. “You'll never play the violin again!” Eddie snorts at the overly anguished cry and looks at the doorway, where Buck is leaning with both their duffle bags over his shoulder. Buck grins like he's pleased that he made Eddie laugh, which Eddie expects was his goal. “How do you feel?” “Like an idiot,” Eddie sighs as he hops off the exam table. “Well acquainted with that feeling,” Buck says as he pushes off the doorframe. “Did they say how long you're stuck like that?” “Four to six weeks,” Eddie grumbles. “Well, we could always get you your job at dispatch back,” Buck teases. Eddie shoves at his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “I'd sooner break my other wrist, thank you.”

Make Me Write!

[pupyuj]

I need you to continue the g!p joyuriz one omg 😵‍💫

ngl i've been thinking on this for a while bcs i miss them.. my three idiots... also ik the idea was joyuriz fucking you before a performance but i lowkey forgot so... 🤪

[cw: gangbang, g!p, oral, dubcon, anal, blowjob, handjob, masturbation, fingering, throatfucking]

imagine like... being an up-and-coming actress and taking up a job as an mc for a music show 🤭 le sserafim, yena, and yuri's comebacks somehow miraculously being in sync with each other so naturally, joyuriz find their way back to each other and they were checking you out in the hallways 😭 whispering to each other about how great you looked in your dress and them having long discussions about how they would fuck you in it⁉️⁉️ but then you looked at them and suddenly they're good girls who smile and bow at you before they go back into staring at your ass and getting their dicks hard bcs they're actually pervs 😳😳

at the interview thingy, the three of them couldn't keep their eyes off of you 😵‍💫 yena was literally only looking at your tits, chaewon had to hide half of her body behind yunjin because her fucking bulge was so big that she couldn't even make up an excuse for it, and yuri was just lost in her head, thinking of all the ways she wanted to ruin you... and that was when she got the idea to invite you to her waiting room after all the performances were done! 🤭 somehow she got all of her staff team to leave the room so it was just you and her,, she talked to you about some normal enough things... your experience as a new actor so far, sharing her own experiences and adventures in the acting industry, that kind of stuff yk? and then yena and chaewon show up,, all changed in some more comfy attire and so fucking ready to fuck you 😁

yuri starts it off first of course! sitting beside you, putting her hand on your thigh... and then taking your hand and putting on her stiff crotch... you jolting back, shocked when you finally realized what their intent was but before you could make any move to leave, yena was sitting beside you, trying to ease you by rubbing your shoulders and telling you to calm down and there's chaewon, standing in front of you, staring down at you with hooded eyes,, yena grabbing your jaw and kissing you and yuri fondling your tits 😵‍💫😵‍💫 yulyen completely distracting you from chaewon and the sight of the ever-growing bulge beneath her sweatpants...

yena and yul making you look while chaewon pulls down her pants, revealing her throbbing hard cock,, and you're completely enticed by the precum that leaked from her slit,, practically drooling at the sight but there was still that feeling of fear that sat on the pit of your stomach, knowing that the three of them were going to to use you until they were satisfied...

being the most comfortable with yuri, so you oblige when she tells you to put chaewon's cock in your mouth,,, going about it as slowly as possible, trying to get yourself used to a size bigger than what you usually took but chaewon was impatient :((( her grabbing your head and forcing her cock down deeper inside your mouth, groaning when she hits the back of your throat,, you claw at her thighs and attempted to push her away so you could breathe properly but chaewon had your head in a death grip—she would not let go. meanwhile, yena had snuck a hand underneath your skirt, rubbing your clit through your panties and grinning at the feeling of your thighs closing around her wrist,, yuri was kissing your neck, leaving hickeys while she unzipped your dress from the back,,

"you're gonna be good and swallow all of chaewonie's cum, okay?" yuri was saying but you could barely hear her since you and chaewon were moaning,, what with her cock completely filling your throat up with how big she was and yena nearly pushing you to your own climax bcs she was sooo good with her fingers 😳😳 chaewon holds your head down on her cock while she spills her cum inside your mouth, a string of swears leaving her own as she emptied herself... omgdjkdjc her cum dripping down your chin a bit bcs chae comes so much :((( but yuri was there to shove chaewon's cum back into your mouth with her fingers 🤤

"sorry, i'm being greedy... but i need to feel her pussy around my dick," chaewon said and ofc yena and yuri would do whatever she wants bcs they know how much chaewon needed to get off some more 🤭

them positioning you so that yena's cock would be inside your ass while chaewon pounds into your pussy :((( meanwhile, you were trying your hardest to stroke yuri's cock, but the feeling of yena and chaewon's dicks inside you proved to be too much... not like they cared, ssamyen keeps on fucking you in a rough pace and yuri slapped you into paying attention to her. "do your best, (y/n)... or else i'll have to punish you." yuri says and then she grabs your jaw and forces her cock inside your mouth despite your protest,, aaaa fuck all of them moaning so loudly and cutely because your holes just felt too good :(((

"we're gonna come inside y-you, (y/n).. f-fuck... and you're gonna let everybody know how good we're making you feel..." yena leaves several marks on your back as she thrusts her hips,, god she was drooling like a rabid dog, grunting and groaning in your ear and fucking into your asshole like it was going to be the last time,, it definitely wasn't! especially now that she knows how easy it is to manipulate a pretty thing like you into being a whore for her and her friends...

mmmdhsjhksk all three of them coming at the same time,, god,,, yuri pulling out of your mouth and coming all over your face and chest,, and chaewon and yena filling up your insides with their warm seed, and ofc you come right after,, hugging chaewon as you did so and collapsing on her chest,, 😵‍💫😵‍💫 feeling so disoriented after getting dicked down that you could barely register all the sweet things the three of them were saying to you 🥺 chaewon holding you so gently and laying down on the couch so she could cuddle you,, yuri petting your head and kissing you jshsdksjfh and yena cleaning you up,,

but of course.. yena couldn't resist touching your pussy again but she knew you were exhausted to hell after what they all did so she was gentle as she rubbed your clit to stimulate you some more 🤭🤭 "ha... you can still keep going after all that? what a good girl..." chaewon whispered, watching your squirm and whine softly at the sensation... you were quick to come this time bcs you were just so sensitive at this point :((( but the girls didn't care!!

hhhh all of them taking turns fucking you with their fingers very gently,, they knew they should give you a break but god your voice was just so fucking pretty!! they couldn't get enough of you at all 🥰💞

[munsonownsmyass]

Movie night

Zach Wellison x reader

Warnings: none, really. Just some fluff and some pining idiots.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Zach, so I'm not sure if I've nailed his character. But I do really love him, so I'm really happy that @boliv-jenta asked for a Zach fic 😁

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Words: 936

”Are you sure you want to do this?” Zach asks, his voice laced with concern. Always so worried, but your mind is made up. You really wanted this and there was nothing he could do to change your mind.

“I’m sure.” you give him a determined nod.

“Alright. You set the movie up, I’ll get the snacks and drinks.” Zach gives you a sweet smile, shaking his head as he walks away. He had a hard time understanding why you’d want to purposely make yourself scared.

Maybe it was silly, but there just was something about horror movies that drew you in. Not that you had watched many in the past, but after Zach became your roommate, it happened more frequently. Knowing he was there made it easier to watch them.

In the living room is a pull-out couch which always comes in handy on movie nights. You guys would make a little bed full of pillows and blankets, turn of the lights and of course get snacks. You have just finished setting it up, when Zach comes back and put the stuff on the little tray table you brought just for nights like this.

“Which one is it today?” He asks softly, eyeing your little setup with a smile.

“The Conjuring. I’ve heard it’s good. Apparently based on real events, which just makes it more scary.” You chuckle, putting on a brave face, but Zach looks right through it. So he just smiles softly and sit down, patting the couch beside him.

It doesn't take much more than 15 minutes before you slowly inch closer to Zach. He puts his arm on the backrest, just waiting for the first real jumpscare and like he predicted, you scream and nuzzle into his side.

“That didn’t take long.” Zach chuckles, gaining a slap on the gut from you.

“I hate you.” You mumble with a grin, focusing on the screen again.

“No, you don’t.” Zach smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. And he’s right. You could never hate Zach. Quite the opposite, actually. Not that you’d ever tell him, though.

For now, you just settle for snuggling closer to him, letting his arm fall around you, his hand landing on your midsection.

“Oh shit!” You squeal and quickly bury your face in Zach’s chest. He just chuckles and squeeze you a little tighter, knowing this would happen again. “Don’t laugh. Aren’t you scared?”

“No, sweetheart. I’ve seen worse.” Zach grins and take a sip of his beer. While pulling you a little closer to him, Zach looks down. He’d never admit it if you asked, but he loved whenever you wanted to watch horror movies, because you always ended up like this. Snuggled into his side, needing him to protect you.

Ever since the day you met, you offering a struggling guy a meal, Zach had liked you. Too sweet for your own good, kinder than most and funny. You never once saw him as a homeless guy, just someone you had things in common with.

And now you were here, a year later, roommates and he was madly in love with you. He wouldn’t risk saying anything, afraid you wouldn’t feel the same and things would turn awkward, so he settled for this. Horror nights with you hiding in his nook.

When the end credits finally roll over the screen, you breathe a sigh of relief. It was finally over. But it really hadn’t been too bad, since Zach was there.

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should-”

“No!” You interrupt Zach, giving him a pleading look. “I... I need to see something fun before I can sleep. Please?”

How could he resist your puppy eyes? Zach just chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “Alright, sweetheart. But only if I can choose what to see now.”

You don’t remember much more after that. Zach put on a Disney movie, but which one didn’t matter. What mattered was you in Zach’s arms, the place where you always felt safe.

You wake up sometime during the night, needing to pee. But as you try to get up, Zach squeeze you tighter, mumbling for you not to go. “Got to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You grin and make it quick.

Returning to the pullout bed, Zach instantly pull you into his embrace again. Night like these were gold to him too, having close always made him calmer, would keep the nightmares at bay.

“This is nice.” He mumbles as you settle in close, not fully awake. 

“No other place I'd rather be.” You reply, feeling flustered as his hand comes to rest on top of yours. Daring to look up, you meet his gaze. Those beautiful chocolate eyes finding yours in the dim light.

For what seems like an eternity, you just look softly at each other, no words needed. Zach is the first to break the silence.

“I like you.” He says with a hint of worry in his voice, worried you won't say it back.

“I like you too, Zach.” And then, you do something you never thought you'd be brave enough to do. Cupping his cheek, you lean in closer and kiss him softly. Just a quick, sweet kiss, but it still manages to set your body on fire.

Zach’s heart beats so fast he fears it might burst through his chest. Happiness isn't a strong enough word to describe what he's feeling right now, finally having kissed you.

For the first time in a long time, you've made him feel peace. Finally, he feels at home.

I'm not really sure who to tag in this. So I'm sorry for the unsolicited tags. Please feel free to ignore 😅❤️

@absurdthirst @wardenparker @pascalslittlebrat @littlemisspascal @nicolethered @musings-of-a-rose @thirstworldproblemss @storiesofthefandomlovers @pedrito-friskito @scorpio-marionette

[rizlowwritessortof]

I was tagged by @zepskies to post a snippet from my current WIP - Thanks, Zep!!

This will be posted sometime within the next few days anyway, but here's a sneak peek 😁

Sneak peek from Third Wheel, a Beau Arlen fic - coming soon!

“Y’all don’t mind if I join you, do ya?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he pulls out a chair and plops himself down. “I was supposed to meet a buddy of mine for steaks and beers, but he just called and said he had to cancel. And you know how I hate to eat alone,” he says, flashing you a grin. You have no idea what your expression is saying, but Curt looks completely confused about what exactly is happening.

You are trying to compose yourself, and to keep from punching Beau in his very attractive nose. In the meantime, the oblivious idiot has motioned at the waitress, babbling on like everything is completely normal. He orders a steak dinner for himself, then adds, “We need some appetizers here, maybe some of those jalapeno poppers? All right with you guys? Put a little spice in your life?”

“Don’t think I have to worry about that with you around,” you retort, and Beau looks at you with a kind of sheepish smirk, which morphs into a smile that makes your heart jump a little.

“You look amazing. That dress really brings out the color of your eyes,” he says, and for a second you feel like you’re the only two in the room. But then he turns back towards your date, (who is sitting there with an expression that clearly says ‘wow, I should have been the one to say something like that’) aiming the conversation his way again. “So, Carl, you already know about me, what do you do?”

“It’s Curt,” your date responds.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

So I’m at work rn and listening to music and just had to send this to you otherwise I’d forget but its ‘Class of ‘86’ 20 year reunion and Eddie rocks up with wife!reader and everyone is just shocked to see him cause he “cleaned up”.

Request by.

@randomreader1999 ❤️

❤️

Eddie smirks at the stunned looks on his former classmates' faces, everyone except Robin, Steve and Nancy who he hangs out with regularly look between you and him with matching shocked expressions.

"Stare much?" you grumble and vow to verbally kick ass if someone upsets Eddie. It took a little bit of persuasion for him to even want to show up in the first place- not that you could blame him after the shit show that he told you had happened in 86.

Today was Hawkin Highs 20th school reunion and you were Eddie's date, the two of you had been together for three and a half years and were recently married .

You met Eddie when he fixed up your car for you, the stupid thing had stalled on the side of the road and all of a sudden this unbelievably kind and gorgeous man was helping you out. You were in the middle of a panic attack and he was soothing you, helping a stranger he had just met from freaking out, you were panicking that you wouldn't get to your job in time and he jumped in immediately to help you.

The second time you met was at the coffee shop you adored and Eddie was there in his mechanic uniform, hair in a bun and his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Princess, you miss me already?" he was teasing and full of mischief. The banter came easy between the two of you and it wasn't long until the two of you were dating.

And now here you were at this reunion and you were anxious to meet the idiots who thought that your Eddie could ever be anything but kind and a gentleman.

"Keep your claws in kitten, we all know they are staring because I'm hot as fuck" you giggle and kiss his cheek exasperated.

It was true he looked gorgeous. His dark curls were beautifully styled and an all-black suit fitted him to perfection. You were still a little pouty about him cutting his hair, so used to it being long but you loved the short hair too. He was fine as hell and all yours.

"I think I might have sent Miss O'Donnell into shock, must be a change not to see me looking like a and I Quote "satan lover" you roll your eyes at the stupidity of some people.

All because he wore leather and rings and looked a little bit intimidating. You thought Eddie was going to be mean as hell when you first met him and you were taken in by the broody, intense demeanour, which pretty much fell away the moment you smiled at him and stammered a nervous hello in between panicked breaths, trying to calm yourself down from panicking about your flat tire and being late for work.

He was the biggest sweetheart you had ever met. You take his hand and squeeze it gently, no one was going to make your Eddie feel like he wasn't welcome.

"Seriously though you think they had never seen a guy in a suit before" Steve jokes and you giggle, knowing that it was because the Eddie of now looked so far removed from the Eddie back then.

Fuck them. You were going to make sure that Eddie had the best time and show everyone that Eddie was amazing, he had always been amazing no matter what he wore or how he acted.

"How about we sneak away later and put that old bats desk to good use" you suggest to Eddie as O'Donell purses her lips and eyes Eddie warily. Eddie gives her a sarcastic wave and turns to you with the biggest grin on his face.

"Princess, you read my mind"

🖤