#maybe I wouldn’t constantly be tired

[hannahhasafact]

Good lord I have GOT to take better care of myself

[astridthevalkyrie]

i gotsto stop getting comfortable in friend groups I always forget I’m neurodivergent

[bibleofficial]

maybe i need to start doing Less Drugs bc ive been fucked for a week straight & i can feel my heart getting mad @ me

[kalique]

i love bitching and kvetching. Anyway those “don’t borrow grief from the future” mfs don’t have multiple sick family members i’ll tell you that much

[tinythebunni]

older rafe and his disgustingly young gf!

Rafe was a busy, busy man. He was the CEO of a company so he was constantly busy. He still had to take care of his little sister Wheezie, but with his busy schedule he just couldn’t!

which is where you came in. Rafe hired you to babysit Wheezie while he worked his shifts. you only ever had a real conversation with Rafe during the interview. You were so nervous and panting because he just kept gazing at you in ways that made you feel all hot and bothered!

it didn’t help the shirt you wore was basically bursting at the seems! you took it to a dry cleaners the day before but they screwed up. :( Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, palming himself throughout the whole interview. Using all of his willpower to stop from jumping over the table and fucking you right there. his questions were a bit redundant but he needed to keep himself calm. He knew he had to have you, so he hired you on the spot and that was that!

You rarely saw Rafe, only getting a few short glimpses before he left for work in the morning! when your babysitting was over he would come home, pay you, and walk upstairs without a word. it made you a lil upset, did he just not want you anymore? you knew the interview wasn’t just your imagination.

but what you didn’t know is that he did want you. so fucking bad. he had to rush up the stairs so he wouldn’t act on his impulses. but it was just so fucking hard with the skirts you wore and the pretty lashes that made every blink you took look like you were begging.

he had to get away from you as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t ruin what little respect you probably had for him.

eventually you got tired of it and just wanted him, regardless of the punishment. you started calling him Mr. Cameron and pushing him for small talk. everytime he responded you’d look up at him with your doe eyes and hands behind your back. pushing your chest out just a little bit and appearing submissive for him. you knew how men worked!

he got antsy very very quickly. Rafe loved how eager to please you looked, how dumb and fuckable you seemed to get when he was around. but he couldn’t ruin you. touching you in every way he wanted could ruin his reputation, but honestly he didn’t care anymore.

Rafe came home late one day, a hard meeting with an asshole CEO of another company ending in a yelling match, and having to come home just to remember Wheezie was at a friends house.

He thought you’d be gone by now, considering there was nothing left for you to do. but he was so fucking wrong. Rafe walked into the kitchen, looking for his bourbon. after pouring himself a glass, he walked into the dining room just to see you on the floor cleaning up.

the clothes you were in didn’t help, they fit you like a glove and leaved almost nothing to the imagination. you had on a tiny pink skirt, a lacy top with buttons down to the hem, and one of his jackets on.

you looked up, a smirk almost rising to your lips, but you knew you had to keep the act up.

“oh my! ‘m so sorry Mr. Cameron! i was trying to clean up the house for you but i broke a glass. and it was so cold i thought maybe it would be okay if i wore your jacket but i can-“

“shut the fuck up.” Rafe snapped. all patience lost. he took of his coat and unbuttoned his cuffs. you went to stand up but he stopped you.

“did i tell you to get up?” you shook your head, letting it drop back down. “exactly, stay on the fucking floor”

you clasped your hands in your lap, gazing down. Rafe circled around you as if to figure out his next move, while you tried not to make one.

“do you think this is funny? teasing me and practically whoring yourself out just to see if i’ll finally touch you?” you glanced up, wanting to explain yourself but he stopped you.

“eyes down. or you’ll be leaving here high and dry without my hands on you.” you listened to his every word, wanting nothing less than to please him so you could get exactly what you wanted.

Rafe walked over to a chair at the head of the table and sat down. he spread his legs and slouched, allowing yourself to see the bulge poking out of his dress pants. “come here.” he whispered. you hesitated for a second, before moving to stand once more.

“Jesus fucking Christ, how many times do i have to say don’t fucking stand up. i want you to crawl like the needy puppy you are.”

crawling over to him, you tried your best to keep your head down and stay quiet. you whimpered only slightly when you realized how dirty your knees must be.

Rafe lifted your head by placing his thumb under your chin. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. you moved closer, eager to get more of him, but he didn’t let you.

he shoved you back, landing on your palms with your chest pushed in the air. Rafe slowly unbuckled his pants, pulling off his belt. he stood up and grabbed you with ease, placing you on his lap and sitting down.

“c’mon baby take what you need. i’ll be nice from now on, swear.”

you nodded eagerly, unzipping his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. his tip was a flushed shade of pink, the slightest bit of precum leaking from the head.

completely losing your confident facade from early and stuttering only slightly you stroked him slowly, watching as his head tilted back in pleasure.

“can i suck you off please? wanna taste you!” you pleaded, cheeks flushed with need.

“nah baby, wanna cum inside you. just lemme fuck you first and we’ll see about that afterwards.” he mumbled, tapping your hips twice to get you to lift up.

he moved your panties to the side, sliding inside you without any warning. the pain was pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time.

the first few movements of yours were slow, with him not almost as if he was still hesitant. still gripping onto the last little bit of decorum he had. but the second you let out that sickeningly sweet moan right by his ear, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Rafe grabbed your hips fucking up into without a care in the world. you moaned out loud, echoing through the house. tears welled in your eyes from the sheer pleasure Rafe was giving you. he moved his left hand to arch your back onto his chest, forcing his cock deeper into you.

“n-need you to cum first pup, don’t care about nutting right now. wanna feel ‘ya, fuck, cumming around my tip!”

you could only nod your head, the slightest bit of drool dripping out of your mouth. Rafe watched it fall, licking it up and moaning at the taste of you. he was so fucking gross.

“pleasepleaseplease baby, lemme kiss you”he mumbled against your lips, pressing closer and closer as he awaited your response. you were so fucked out you could barely respond!

he slapped your cheek, thrusting inside you with hard fast strokes, jackhammering into you.

“words baby, use them”

you whined out a yes and pressed your lips to his, surely bruising them.

Rafe snuck a hand around your front to press his thumb to your clit, putting pressure on it before rubbing it in circles. the hand he kept on your hip made its way up to your neck, choking you in the best way.

the difficulty and strain of not being able to breathe fully made your eyes roll to the back of your head. you could barely think with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Rafe watched as your eyes glazed over, smirking when he saw you wheeze out a whimper. loosening his grip only slightly, he pulled you closer to him.

“cum for me in the next 10 seconds or you won’t be able to breathe until i’m done.” he whispered in your ear.

starting the countdown, he watched as your hips met his every thrust. by the time he got to 6 you were ready to black out, but that rush of euphoria hit and you spasmed on top of him.

your back arched, a scream combined with a moan wrenching itself out of your throat.

the strength of your orgasm making you slump against him, coaxing his orgasm as he saw how pliant you became against him.

he rubbed your back, kissing up your neck as he let you fall asleep and letting your whole body become relaxed. Rafe patted down your ruffled hair and stayed inside of you, letting his cum plug you up. you were gonna be his forever.

[verareids]

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be. 

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation. 

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

~

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

~

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback. 

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm. 

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[luveline]

hey! i wanted to request r with a best friend!marauder, and she feels guilty for being a clingy/touchy bsf? eg. always holds hands and loops arms together and loves hugs. but said marauder comforts her? thank you jadey

The steps off of the bus feel especially steep on just four hours sleep. You’re not dizzy, but when James offers his hand from the ground, you accept it. Much less scary to know he could catch you if you slipped. 

“I’m surprised we weren’t holding hands already,” he says, giving yours a squeeze as you land, and pulling you to the side where the already departed rugby team and their family members wait for their luggage to be retrieved from the bus’ belly.

“Oh, I know,” you say. There’s an odd awkwardness to it that you’re trying to bury. 

James is used to you. Your hand in his is casual, perhaps a little too much for company, but it’s just hand-holding. You like feeling that he’s near, the slight chill of British summer more readily suffered with his palm against yours. He runs hot. 

He lets your joined hands swing gently with the wait, doesn’t bother letting it go until the luggage is all out. James grabs his duffel bag and your suitcase, and everyone makes their way to the hotel. It’s late —the team were expecting to be here much sooner but there had been a punctured tire, and then an accident on the M4. James will have to play the game tomorrow with less hours of sleep than intended, but he’ll play well. 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” James says a little later, when you’ve shoved your suitcase under the double bed. He turns off the big light. 

“That is an uncharacteristically large word.” 

“Loser,” he says, pushing down the blankets to sit next to you. He rubs his mouth and nose, then he turns to you, all business. “You are quiet, though. What’s the matter? Still feel poorly?” 

“I feel fine.” 

“You look awful.” He winces at his own harshness. “You look upset, sorry. And you still have sleep in your eyes, let me–”

You sigh and tilt your head up for him to scratch the sleep from your eye. For a moment, it’s quiet, just your face in his hand, his fingernail against the delicate inside of your eye. “Do you ever think we’re too close?” 

“Not really. Sometimes when you kick me in your sleep, maybe.” He takes back his hands. 

“You don’t care that I’m, like, constantly on you? I don’t know, like earlier, when you helped me off of the bus. Most friends wouldn’t keep holding on to each other after, but we do.” 

“Most friends wouldn’t take a nine hour bus just to see me play an away game, so…” James gives you a little poke in the ribs. “But we aren’t friends, we’re best friends. So what if we want to hold hands? That’s our business.” 

You frown. “You really don’t care? Even when I’m harassing you for hugs and stuff?” Nausea sits in your chest, waiting for him to say, Yeah, actually, the hugging is a bit much. 

“Babe, I love you,” James says, his glasses slipping down his nose as he gives a shake of the head. His eyebrows are pinched in confusion, but his mouth is softening. “How long have you been thinking about this?” 

“I just don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re never a burden.” He opens his arms. 

You crawl into his embrace, reassured by his chin where it digs into your forehead, and his warm voice. 

“You don’t bother me. We bother each other, right? We fight like kids. I love it, I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything.” He pauses. Hums. “‘Cept a Big Mac. I’m starving, I can’t believe we got stuck on the motorway like that.” 

“You’d trade me for a Big Mac?” 

“In a moment of weakness.” 

His smile curves against your head. His arms settle on your back. It’s the same as every other hug you’ve shared, warm and easy. “I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, “I don’t know why you’re worried about being too much, but don’t bother. You’re touchy, I’m touchy, we’re affectionate people.” 

“I spent too long on that stupid bus,” you say, dropping your flushed face into his shoulder. 

“You definitely did. Why would I care about you hugging me too much?” His hand moves gently up and down. “You give the best hugs around.” 

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Close call

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: After a heated argument that leads Y/n to storm out into the rain, a near-death accident brings Lando and Y/n back together

________________________________________________________

The day had started off fine—normal, even. You had both been in good spirits after Lando’s last race weekend. He had been on the podium, and the celebrations had been nothing short of electric. But then, like a storm brewing on the horizon, small tensions began to rise between you two. It was always something—little things that built up over time. The missed texts, the rescheduled plans, the constant feeling that his attention was always somewhere else. Today, it had finally come to a head.

“I’m not asking you to choose between me and your career,” you yelled, your voice shaking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “But I need to know where I stand, Lando. It’s like I’m just an afterthought to you!”

Lando stood on the opposite side of the room, hands clenched into fists by his sides. His jaw was tight, anger simmering in his eyes. “That’s not fair! You know how much I care about you. But I can’t just drop everything every time you feel neglected. This is my job. My life.”

“And what am I, then?” you shot back, stepping forward. “Just something on the side when it’s convenient for you? I sit here, waiting—always waiting—while you go off and live your dream. What about my life, Lando?”

His face twisted with frustration, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “You knew what this was when we got together! You knew racing would come first, that my schedule is insane. What do you expect me to do? Quit?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I expect you to make time for me! To show me that I’m important, that I matter! But you don’t, Lando. It’s like I’m just… background noise.”

Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising. “That’s bullshit! You know that’s not true. I’ve been trying, but you keep pushing and pushing, like nothing I do is ever enough for you!”

“Because it’s not!” you screamed, tears spilling over now. “I’m tired of feeling like I have to fight for a place in your life. You’re never here, and when you are, you’re not really present.”

He stopped pacing, his face hardening as he glared at you. “Maybe if you actually supported me instead of complaining all the time, things wouldn’t be so hard.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a step back, your breath catching in your throat. “You think I don’t support you?”

Silence.

“I’m at every race, every event, doing everything I can to cheer you on. I rearrange my entire life around your schedule, and you still have the nerve to say I don’t support you?”

Lando’s face softened for a brief moment, but the anger flared again. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it’s exhausting, alright? Trying to balance everything when it feels like you’re constantly on my case.”

You blinked at him, tears falling freely now. “On your case? You think I enjoy feeling this way? I’m exhausted too, Lando. I’m exhausted from waiting for you to show up.”

His expression twisted, and for a moment, he seemed to want to respond, but something snapped in you before he could speak. You turned on your heel, storming out of the living room and heading towards the door, grabbing your jacket as you went.

“I can’t do this right now,” you muttered, pulling the door open.

“Where are you going?” Lando demanded, his voice sharp behind you.

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”

Just as you stepped outside, the sky that had been so clear all day suddenly let loose. Rain poured down in thick sheets, soaking you within seconds. You didn’t care. You needed to get away, clear your head, breathe something other than the heavy air of your apartment. You began walking, not even knowing where you were going. You were too hurt, too angry, and too tired to think clearly.

Behind you, Lando hesitated at the door. He hated seeing you like this, but his pride kept him frozen. You didn’t wait for him to follow, assuming he wouldn’t.

The rain pelted harder as you walked further, your clothes drenched, your hair sticking to your face. You kept going, lost in your thoughts, but as you stepped off the curb to cross the street, everything changed in an instant.

The loud honk of a car horn blared, headlights flashing in your peripheral vision. You turned just in time to see the vehicle barreling toward you, too fast to stop. A surge of panic shot through you, freezing your legs in place.

Suddenly, something slammed into you from the side, sending you tumbling to the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of your lungs, and your body hit the pavement hard. The world spun as you lay there, rain pouring down on you, gasping for air. You realized someone had pushed you out of the way—Lando.

He had run after you, faster than you realized, and tackled you just in time to get you out of the path of the car. The vehicle screeched to a halt mere inches from where you had stood, its tires skidding on the slick pavement.

“Y/N!” Lando’s voice was panicked, hands shaking as he pulled you up, eyes scanning you for any injuries. “Are you okay? Did it hit you? God, please tell me you’re okay.”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath, but your chest ached from where you had hit the ground. “I’m… I’m okay,” you whispered, wincing as you sat up.

He knelt beside you, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wide with fear and guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I shouldn’t have let you walk out. I should’ve—God, if I hadn’t run after you—” His voice broke, and you saw the terror in his eyes.

You reached up, placing a shaky hand on his cheek. “Lando… I’m fine. You saved me.”

He shook his head, his throat tight with emotion. “I was such an idiot. I should’ve listened. I should’ve been there for you.” His voice was low, filled with regret. “You’re right. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I’ve taken it for granted. I’m sorry.”

The rain continued to pour, soaking both of you, but in that moment, none of it mattered. You let out a shaky breath, wiping the wet strands of hair from his face. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I just felt so… lost. But I know you’re trying. I see it, and I’m sorry for making it seem like it’s not enough.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ll make this right. I promise.”

You held onto him just as tightly, both of you soaked to the bone but no longer feeling the cold. The fight, the anger, the hurt—it all seemed so small compared to what had just happened. You almost lost each other in more ways than one.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and this time, it felt like a promise.

[whimsyprinx]

in an effort to spare myself from getting hurt and others from getting annoyed I’ve decided once again that I’m not going to be the first one to reach out anymore (but for realsies this time)

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Xavier

Sometimes maybe you're just the Juliet to his Romeo. Nothing more than a tragic love story, but what if you could rewrite the stars? pt. 1 here A/N: Before you fight me just read okay? Kisses 💋

Self-Aware!Xavier who's been blinding you with your screen brightness lately “Since when can you do that?” “I was testing the limits of my evol recently and figured it out cool right?” “Yes very cool but please stop blinding me it hurts”

It only took asking once for Xavier to stop adjusting your screen brightness. However he has been acting strange. It feels like he's hiding something; not necessarily something he can't tell you about more like something doesn't want to tell you about. Checking the app turned into a more frequent occurrence when he started disappearing constantly. You would often open the app to find the home screen cafe empty.

“Xavier!” the screen flashes and you see him appear with that same soft smile directed right at you “I’m here what do you need?” you stared at him unsure if you should accuse him of anything due to his strange actions lately. You didn't want to argue with him so you pushed your feelings down and sighed “Nothing just wondered where you went”

“I’m right here I'll always be here” He moved closer to the screen to get a better look at your eyes. “Is that all you were wondering?” You couldn't help, but sigh heavily as your curiosity got the best of you. “What have you been doing lately?” Stupid. Stupid. You mentally kicked yourself as the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them. Why are you so jealous that he might be with in-game MC? It’s not like you can actually be with him. “Like I told you before I've been testing my evol” it still felt like he was hiding something under that soft gaze of his. You narrowed your eyes at hime “Xav if you want to spend more time with MC you don’t need to hide it from me” you could feel that terrible lump forming in your throat as reality set in that no matter how much you loved him; he’s not yours and never will be. Before he could answer you shook your head willing your tears to stay at bay “I have to go I'll be back later” you closed the app right as his mouth opened to say something.

You stopped opening the app after that. You thought that maybe if you stayed away long enough things would go back to normal and he wouldn’t be able to talk to you anymore. How do you grieve someone who doesn’t exist?

1 week later....

Since that conversation you’re not sure if you’ve become more sensitive to light or if you just happen to keep getting glares in your eyes because you’re just unlucky enough to be right where one can shine right in your eyes. You kept the lights in your house low or even just off to keep the light from blinding you. These constant blinding flashes of light were killing your head so you started wearing sunglasses everywhere and even using the walls to be your guide around your place because it was easier to just walk around in the dark.

Tonight was different though as you made your way to your bedroom your head was fuzzy along with your vision “I need to go to the eye doctor my vision may be getting worse” staggering to your bed you fell face first onto your bed and passed out. Your body felt weightless as if you were floating on a cloud. Your eyes fluttered open to see an expanse of stars and milky ways as far as the eye can see. “Y/N”

There was a voice, but it sounded as if it was underwater. “Y/N?” Words failed you as you tried to answer “I'm…. tired…..” you words were slurred and your eyelids were heavy. “Let’s go home together” the voice was much clearer now. “Xav….ier?” succumbing to the drowsiness that had you in a vice grip, your head fell back as everything went dark.

You jolted awake only to immediately be blinded by the sun shining in through the window. “At least it didn't give me a headache this time” You mumbled to yourself as you yawned into a big stretch. Your vision was clear again a stark contrast from what you fell asleep with. You started to take in your surroundings taking note that this wasn’t your room “Am I lucid dreaming?”

“The sun is too bright turn it off” a groggy voice whined next to you. Without thinking you kicked your leg out connecting directly with the strangers crotch who audibly groaned in pain. You sprinted out of the room only to realize you had no clue where you were. Rustling could be heard from the bedroom so there was no time to waste as long as you made it out of here as quick as possible. Freedom was within reach as you came up on the front door or at least you hoped it was the front door; only to be grabbed by your forearm and yanked back.

“I will scream bloody murder!” You yelled as you fought against this persons iron grip. “It’s me! Y/N it’s me open your eyes” not even realizing you were already screaming bloody murder with your eyes closed ; you opened them to see those deep blue eyes you’d dreamt about. “Xavier? Am I hallucinating?” You pulled your arm again and Xavier let go this time. You rapidly scanned the room and noticed this place looked exactly how it did in the game “There’s no way i’m standing in your apartment right now” You pinched the back of your hand and winced in pain.

Xavier rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded “Welcome to my home” you circled him skeptically eyeing him up and down. “Explain yourself”

“I was testing if I could manipulate the light in your world and it turned out that I could” That’s when it hit you that it was Xavier who’d been blinding you with light. You weren’t sure if you were pissed or flattered that he was trying to get your attention while you were ignoring him. No he literally made your life a living hell with that of course you were pissed. You took deep breaths as you tried to gather your thoughts. “So it was you that kept blinding me Xavier that gave me such insane headaches why would you do that?” You threw your arms up in exasperation as you began to pace. “I wanted your attention and you wouldn’t talk to me” He approached you with careful steps as you backed up at the same time. All those repressed feelings you had for the last week quickly surfaced just from looking at him. His face became blurry as your eyes filled with tears; just as you went to turn away you bumped into the kitchen counter. You stumbled to a stop as Xavier trapped you between himself and the counter. “Why did you leave me?” His lips pressed together in a thin line and you could tell he was trying to keep himself calm as well.

“Because we can’t be together Xav….” Your voice cut off as you choked up trying to keep your tears from falling. “Why not I'm right here” he had a point, but you don’t belong here; this isn’t your home and Xavier already has someone he was literally made to be with. “I can’t stay here Xav I can’t come between you and-” You yelped as he lifted you onto the counter and slotted himself between your soft thighs that were still bare from going to bed in a large t-shirt and spandex shorts. “I cut through time, space and reality to have you in front of me” His hands lingered on your thighs softly drawing circles with his thumbs. "Do you truly believe I want anyone other than you?" You went slack-jawed at his confession of how he managed to bring you here “You what?”

He dropped his head and exhaled a raspy chuckle, but there was no amusement in it “I was so lost when you stopped coming to see me I thought I was losing my mind” This man really did the impossible to get to you; there’s no way you could ever tell a single soul about this or you’ll be thrown head first into a mental asylum. The feeling of Xavier’s hand on your cheek pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. He gently wiped away a stray tear that you hadn’t even realized escaped. “You’re breathtaking in person” The blue in his irises was damn near non-existent as he studied your face almost as if he was trying to permanently burn the image into his mind. His stare was so intense it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you or you’d disappear.

You softly pushed his shoulder you try and get some distance because it felt like you couldn’t breathe with him this close. “Xavier please….” Your voice trailed off into nothing, but a breathy whisper. You didn’t know what you were asking him for; words seemed to be escaping you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and held it next to your head as he leaned in closer. Your lips parted as your breath became heavy and his gaze immediately dropped to your lips. “Please what?”

Fuck it.

You wriggled your wrist free and grabbed him by the back of his neck slamming your lips onto his. Xavier wasted no time kissing you back, his arms wrapping about your waist pulling you tight against his toned body. Xavier kissed you like a man starved the way he parted your lips to allow his tongue in along with the quick nips and sucks to your bottom lip your mind was going fuzzy as you fell into him with reckless abandon. You drew back gasping for air and Xavier chased your lips pulling you back into a heated makeout session. Before you fell back under his spell you broke away and pressed your fingertips to his lips when he tried to chase you again. His breath was ragged and you could see his rapid pulse fluttering on his neck. Seeing him completely flushed with red cheeks and hot ears gave you butterflies “We should slow down we just met” You teased with a giggle. Xavier rolled his eyes and kissed your nose as he took a step back. You didn’t miss how he quickly adjusted his pants tucking himself into his waistband. “I’m sure you have many questions go ahead I'll answer all of them truthfully”

[frannyzooey]

Warriors

Merry Christmas @papurgaatika !! I am your Secret Santa, and I had a blast writing this for you ❤️ We share a first love of Din and writing this made me realize just how much I've missed him! I hope this is everything you wished for and more -- and I hope you have an amazing holiday!! 🎄❄️🎄❄️

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

--

You first spotted him on the outer reaches of the galaxy. 

His beskar armor demanded to be seen, a surprising choice for someone who worked in the shadows. But while the first time you saw him was a flash at the edge of the market, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you. 

He’d been watching you for weeks. 

The bounty on your head was a high one: a disgruntled old boss with a lot of credits, and even more vindictiveness. You’d been skipping from planet to planet, earning anything you could from spare jobs, and stealing whenever you had to. You knew your luck had to run out one day, but you always thought you’d be able to talk your way out of it. 

It’s a misunderstanding, you’d say. Let me tell you my side of the story. 

Just your luck that the bounty hunter who finally caught you wouldn’t budge an inch. 

He was stoic, solid. Impenetrable, just like his armor. The very size of his body intimidated you, but it had nothing on what you felt when he stared. The helmet he constantly wore hid everything from you, and even though you couldn’t see his expression, you still tried to plead your case.

It was like arguing with a wall. 

You pressed, and he remained silent. You explained, and he stood eerily still. You begged, and he said nothing.

Eventually, he admitted that the begging did it. 

That, and the fact that he needed a babysitter – for a child just as stubborn as he was. 

Weeks spent watching the Child and waiting around for him had your nerves strung tight, and sleep pulled at your dry eyes. You knew he was just as tired, but he was being infuriatingly stubborn – as usual. 

“Just take the bed,” he urged. 

“You’ve been out there for over two weeks,” you argued back, gesturing outside the ship. “Not a chance. You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep in the cockpit.”

“Why, when you could stretch out?” you pushed back. 

His sighs were always these weighted things – thick with impatience, paired with hands on his hips and a tip of his helmet. The sound of it made you cringe when he did it to bounties, made you smile when he did it to the kid – but now, it made you frustrated. Annoyed. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing firm. He could be stubborn, but so could you. 

“The kid’s been down for ages, Mando. Take advantage of it.”

“And where will you sleep?” he pressed. 

“On the floor. Up in the cockpit. Wherever.” 

“On the floor?” He stared you down, and it took everything you had not to avert your eyes. 

“Hey,” you called him out. “Don’t try to intimidate me. It’s not going to work.”

He remained silent, and you huffed with annoyance. 

“Please,” you sighed. “I’m tired, you’re tired, the kids asleep. You need rest. Just take the bed.”

You turned to climb the ladder to the cockpit, and his voice stopped you. 

“Want to share it?”

���

Whatever sleep you thought you’d get, you were kidding yourself. 

The hulk of this man was a furnace next to you: the broad span of his shoulders blocking out the hull, the width of his chest shielding you, the bulk of his thighs pressed against your own. Insisting you take the side closest to the wall, you couldn’t even crawl out of the cot to go sleep somewhere else without waking him up – and that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Okay, maybe not the last. 

The last thing you wanted was for him to wake up because you couldn’t stop squirming. 

Paired with the heat of his body, the ache that gathered at the crux of your thighs made it impossible to sleep. It sprouted at his proximity, blossomed at the reminder of his strength, and grew with each of his deep, steady exhales. It pooled in the cradle of your pelvis, flooding through your hips and down. 

Gingerly, you rolled onto your side – but his hips lined up too much with your ass for you to ignore. You tried your other side, but the crook of his neck called to you. You tried your back, and that’s when he spoke. 

“Is something the matter?”

You startled, unaware that he’d been awake this whole time. That kriffing helmet. 

“Can’t sleep, I guess.”

He hummed, the sound going straight to your core. “Not enough space?”

It really wasn’t, but you found yourself not wanting to admit it. It was either this or the cold, uncomfortable cockpit and being curled up next to him was the better option. 

Even if you ended up going mad with want. 

“No,” you replied. “It’s fine.”

He nodded, going still. 

Your eyes ran up the length of his forearm, over the bulk of his bicep. You pictured his arm lifting to rest itself across the dip of your waist, and imagining the weight of it, you let out a shaky exhale. Closing your eyes, you leaned into the fantasy: his hand sliding underneath the band of your thermals, cupping you wholly between your legs. His fingers sliding inside of you with a stretch, your thighs parting to make room for his thick wrist. Slick pooled along your seam and dripped out, and you shifted again on the cot. 

This time, his hand stilled you. 

“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” 

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want…something else?” 

Your cheeks flooded with warmth, and you turned your head to look at him. “Like what?”

He shrugged, the shadowed round of his shoulder moving in the darkness. “You tell me.”

–

It didn’t take long after that to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. 

Every inch of skin that you dreamt about for months bared for your touch, you couldn’t stop exploring him – the fragrant crook of his neck, the smooth planes of muscle that covered his back, the trim sides of his torso and his soft belly dusted with hair. He seemed to revel in your touch, and you imagined that to be the case, with how often he was covered head to toe. 

His hips fit neatly within the cradle of your thighs, and when he filled you with a swift, precise push forward, a flutter erupted in your belly at the idea that he might fuck like he hunts – with competence and skill. Your back arched off his cot to take him deeper, and he groaned in your ear. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he praised, his knees shifting wider for purchase. His hips kissed the inside of your thighs with every roll forward, his weight spreading them wider underneath his strokes, and your hands splayed across his chest when he pushed himself up on his hands to stroke deeper, harder. Scars littered his chest, memories of his past permanently etched into his skin and something about it tugged at you – the idea that he always came out on top, but paid a price to get there.

Wanting to give him the rest you knew he deserved, you tugged him down on top of you and rolled your bodies until you straddled his lap – a sight that made him hum with appreciation. He tried to sit up to join you, but you pushed him back down. 

“I said you need rest, Mando,” you reminded him of your earlier words, your hips rolling in time with every upwards push of his. The filling heft of his cock had your mouth dropping open, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew his eyes were fixed on it. “Let me – let me do the work.”

“Okay,” he eventually agreed, his thumb finding the bud of your clit. A few swipes of his touch had you keening, and he rested his other arm back behind his head, as if getting comfortable to watch the show. “I’ll watch while you make yourself come this time, sweet girl. But the next one?”

You moaned, your hips rocking faster against his – forwards into the swirling pressure of the pad of his thumb, and backwards onto the filling thickness of his cock. 

“The next one is mine.”

–

After that first night, he never let you sleep anywhere else. 

The cot much too small for two bodies, you made do by always being joined in one way or another: your limbs entwined, your body draped over his, his cock nestled inside you. Days and sometimes weeks without him at your side, he stripped bare every time he crawled in next to you, loathe to waste any moment without your skin touching his. 

Your face fit into the crook of his neck perfectly, his arm wrapped around your waist just right. For someone that spent so long by himself, it was clear that he was touch starved, but as you found out, so were you. 

Two lonely stars, colliding in a galaxy. 

You got used to his moods and he got used to yours. A routine came easy: you played the mechanic to his pilot, the babysitter to his parent, the vessel for him to pour his love into. And he did, every chance he could get. 

In the cockpit, poured into your mouth. 

In the hull of the ship, splashed along your back. 

In his cot, every single night, in every single way possible – smeared across your chest, pooled on your soft belly, flooded into the depths of your cunt. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened after that, but it was. 

–

Seated on the edge of the worn exam table, you swallowed hard against a cough that rose in your chest. It tickled the base of your throat, demanding relief and you tucked your face into the crook of your elbow and let out a wet cough, your lungs heavy and sore. 

You had caught it from a bounty, a filthy vagrant that Mando had hauled up the ramp earlier that month. Due to a few choice words that the bounty spit at you, Mando made sure to freeze him (none too kindly) right away, but not before the stranger coughed with force in the small space. 

Not one to see a doctor for his own ailments, you were surprised when he demanded you see one after a couple weeks of the lingering cold. Leaving him waiting in the lobby, you smiled at the immediate berth the other patients gave him when he sat down. 

You picked at your finger, suppressing the urge to cough again. 

The medical droid reassured you. “You’ll be fine. All life signs for you and the child are reading in good condition.”

“The child?” you asked. The kid wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t even here.

“Looks like it’s just a cough. The baby is fine – all vitals are measuring optimal.”

You froze, unable to reply. 

The baby. 

“The…baby?”

The droid laughed, modulated and carefree like their words didn’t just shatter your whole existence. “A couple months along, I’d say. Do you want to listen?”

Gently lifting your tunic, they pressed a monitor to the curve of your stomach and the pulsing heartbeat that met your ears brought instant tears to your eyes. 

“There, there,” the droid soothed, handing you a tissue. “Sounds healthy!”

You walked back to the ship in a daze, your surroundings a blur, your mind stuck on a loop of worry.

He never asked for this. 

This is no life to raise a child in. 

The ship – the ship barely fits the three of you, where the maker is a baby going to go?

The endless questions ate away at you for the rest of the evening, every worst case scenario coming true in your mind. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

On his side facing you, Din (a name he had long ago whispered to you in the darkness of his cot) ran his touch along your arm. He tucked you closer, rubbing your back. “You still feel sick?”

Your cheek rested against the firm heat of his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat – so like the one you heard earlier today. They sounded the same, and tucked safely next to his bulk, you murmured the words into his neck. 

“I’m going to have a baby.”

His visor tilted downwards just as his hand tipped your chin up. He looked down at you, and you wished desperately that you could see his face. Your lip trembled when he said nothing, and he cleared his throat. 

“I…wanted to wait,” he started, and your face crumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, cutting him off. Your voice wavered, and you looked away. “I –”

“Stop.” His commanding voice halted your sentence mid-speech. His hold slid from your chin to your cheek, cupping the soft curve. 

“I wanted to wait,” he repeated, softer this time. “Until we could find someone to do the ceremony.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, and he dragged the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, collecting a stray tear.

“We have a special ceremony we perform, when we bind ourselves to someone for life. It involves…taking our helmet off, so they can see us. So they can know us, better than anyone else.”

Your gaze transfixed on his visor, you held your breath as he reached for the edge of his helmet. 

“You already know me better than anyone else, so…”

He lifted the helmet up, and for the first time, you saw his face. 

He was beautiful – warm, rich brown eyes, ringed with thick lashes. A strong nose, a plush mouth. Stubble that scattered across his cheeks, a moustache that you never would have imagined. His curls were dark and mussed, and you envisioned a baby in your arms with the same color hair. 

The grin that broke across his face was almost as beautiful as the face itself – and every worry you had vanished at the sight of it. 

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, the sound of his real voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. 

"We are one when together, we are one when parted.” He recited the vows and his hand took yours, placing it on his chest. He let his own touch rest along the curve of your belly. “We will share all, we will raise warriors."

You sobbed, and he laughed – a new, treasured sound that made you cry even harder. 

“You have to repeat it,” he teased. 

Focused on his voice – his real voice, the feeling of hearing it for the first time overwhelming you – you took a deep breath, and stared into his eyes. 

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.” A hitch in your breath broke the vow, and he smiled, his fingers splaying across your skin. “We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My Cup of Tea

Fandom: Marvel (Celebrity AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You’ve spent 2 years trying to get Bucky Barnes on your interview show Coffee Shop Date and the chemistry is undeniable between you two.

You watch as Bucky takes a seat across from you. The small cafe in Brooklyn was empty besides you two. The smell of coffee beans brewing and pastries baking fill the air.

“So…it’s happened,” You state plainly.

Bucky chuckles as he settles into his seat more, “It has.”

“Did you finally get tired of rejecting me?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head and a smirk on your lips. This has always been how you and Bucky behaved around each other at events.

It all started one fateful night at the Emmy's. His show, Echoes of the Crown, being nominated for Best Drama Series. He came up to you on the red carpet and he exclaimed excitement because he's watched your show. You then invited him to come on and he said he'd have to get back to you since his schedule is packed at the moment.

For the past two year, you've been keeping in contact with him and his publicist to see if your schedules would align. In-between that, you'd constantly tease him at events and award shows about how he keeps ghosting you. People of the internet have commented on the clear chemistry between you two, hoping that some day the stars would align and he'd be on your show.

After all this time, he's finally found the time to come onto your show Coffee Shop Date.

He laughs, “I wasn’t rejecting you! I’ve been busy!”

You roll your eyes, seemingly unconvinced, “That’s basically a nice way of rejecting someone, James.”

He playfully winces, “Oh boy. My government name. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

You take a sip from your mug. The cafe uses an array of mismatched dish and drinkware, giving the overall vibes of the place very fun and homey.

You change the subject, “Is this your go to place?”

He looks around and nods, “Yeah. One of my favorite places to go to when I’m home. They’ve been around for over fifty years.”

“It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.” Bucky says with a grin.

You bite back a smirk, “What’s your go to coffee order?”

“Black coffee or cold brew.”

You raise a brow at him, “No sugar? Do you hate sweet things?”

He smirks at you, “If I hated sweet things, I wouldn’t be on this date with you, would I?”

"Alright then, Casanova."

"You're not fond of black coffee?"

"Not my cup of tea," you say jokingly as you lift your mug to your lips for a sip.

"Well you're my cup of tea."

“…you’re laying it on thick, Barnes. You usually like this on dates?”

“Only when I really like the person.” You hide your smile in your mug and he asks, "What about you? You usually this snarky with your dates?"

You shrug, "Only with the ones who keep cancelling on me."

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, "How long you gonna hold that over my head, sweetheart?"

"For as long as I want or until I find something else I can hold over you."

He takes a sip from his own cup and then gestures to yours, "You always drink tea?"

You glance down at the cup of hot black tea with milk and sugar and shake your head, "Not always. Depends how I'm feeling. Sometimes I like tea, other days coffee, or even a matcha."

He scrunches his face up in distaste, "I tried matcha and I don't really like it. Tastes like grass and dirt to me."

You scoff, "Maybe because you haven't tried good matcha. Some places have good matcha, others not so much."

"Maybe you can take me to a place with good matcha after all this," he gestures to the cameras and crew.

You look at him in surprise, "Are you asking me on a real date, Barnes?"

"Second date."

"So confident I'd want another date with you?"

He leans back in his chair with a smirk, "Sweetheart, for two years, you've been trying to get me to go on a coffee date with you. I'm pretty sure you'd like to go on a second date with me."

"So cocky."

This playful, flirtatious banter gave you a bit of a thrill. It was fun to flirt with Bucky and tease him. He was obviously a handsome man, but he was also charming and funny. There was just something about him that made you feel a little more daring and comfortable.

"So tell me, what's something that scares you?" he asks, as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning closer to you. His eyes completely focused on you.

"Birds."

He laughs, "Birds?! Specific kinds or all kinds?"

"All. They freak me out with how they fly around, can swoop at you any moment. The talking ones freak me out the most. Animals should not be able to talk back!"

Bucky looks at you in amusement, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter, "That wasn't an answer I was expecting."

"What kind of answer were you expecting then?"

"I don't know! Maybe spiders or heights?"

"Okay, what about you?"

"Reptiles."

"Like snakes?"

"Not just snakes, but also lizards. I don't like how they move. It freaks me out." He answers with seriousness.

You continue to converse with each other until your director yelled cut for time. You and Bucky visibly relax.

"Thank you again for coming on," you say with a genuine smile.

Bucky's eyes twinkle as he nods, "Of course, I mean, you were very persistent for this to happen."

"Well, not just me. The entire internet too. Are you ready for the storm that's about to hit once this airs?"

"I am. I mean, they're all right, we have great chemistry."

"I suppose we do."

"So...how about a real date?"

You can't help but widen your eyes in shock, "Oh, you were serious about that?"

He nods, "Absolutely. I really would like to get to know you better without all the cameras and crew."

"Yes, of course. I can take you to a cafe I know that actually does serve amazing matcha!"

He laughs, "Alright. It's a date!"

______________________________

Bucky Barnes Spotted With Interviewer, Y/N L/N

buckysnumber1fan: SHUT THE FUCK UP. HES FINALLY GOING ON COFFEE SHOP DATE

buckysluvr: FINALLYYYYYY. i love the chemistry they have!

thatoneguyonhere: miss girl is living my dream and im mad but also happy for her. ;__;

jbbhoe: wait, is this a real date or just for coffee shop date????

______________________________

"Well, well, well, look who we have here!" your friend and fellow interviewer, Carol.

You wave at her as you and Bucky approach, "Hi, Carol!" you give her a hug.

"How does it feel to be on the other side of this?" she asks, holding out her mic to you.

You snort, "So weird, but this guy finally convinced me to accompany him," you point to Bucky and he smiles at Carol.

"I told her she had to experience this at least once in her life. And much like her, I'm very persistent when it comes to something I want."

"This must be surreal for both of you considering that a few years ago at this very event, you two met and instantly clicked. Now look at you two!"

Bucky sighs, "Yeah, it's...it's a little funny how we've come to a weird kind of circle moment. We're both back here together, but our relationship with each other has completely changed. But I wouldn't have it any other way." He looks at you with fondness in his eyes and kisses your head.

Carol beams at the affection shared between you two, "Well alright, you two, I'll let you two go. Enjoy the rest of your night and, Bucky, congrats again on another nomination."

"Thanks so much!"

"See you around, Carol!" you wave to your friend as Bucky directs you further down the red carpet.

[lovemomhatepolice]

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 2)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no chance that it will touch you after alcohol. That is, when only you are after alcohol. Even though you are in a relationship and even though you trust each other implicitly, THERE IS NO SUCH OPTION. Even if you look at him with your pleading eyes, even dripping, no. Well, unless you are both slightly tipsy and then you land in each other's arms, even more willingly than usual (which is all too strange)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Heck, you guys are even fighting over it. There's no way you're going to get around it without plowing both ways. Drew loves, LOVES to lie between your thighs - oh and you love how he is there, because your man is very talented. But you also take his breath away as you climb into his lap and caress him with your mouth. Let's hope it never ends, right?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Let's be honest - Drew is a man of a million talents. You want him to fuck you hard, with your face pressed into a pillow, begging for it to stop, even though you don't really want it to - he will. If you're in a romantic mood and want to seal it with sex, he'll be sensual and calm. Whatever you desire

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If you do not have the opportunity to have sex longer, quickies also are ok. But as I mentioned, Drew doesn't like to skip the “elements” of your intercourse, so quickies are not to his liking. But sometimes you both want it, and what can you do?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) This man is turning 31!!! (Funnily enough - he turns it tomorrow) We all seem to know very well how well he takes care of his sister-in-law. So it's no wonder he doesn't mind if you don't use protection or are not on the pill. Oh, he would love to have children with you, even if you are quite a bit younger. If you were ready, he could fuck you all night long just to put that baby inside you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) It depends on how aroused he is. Usually you can easily do two-three rounds if you are not tired. Drew doesn't like to finish after one round, who would he be if he didn't fondle his woman to her limits?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He has. Not a lot, but I think she keeps a vibrator at her house to sometimes support her actions and improve your sex. He's not some big fan, but he likes to experiment

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He doesn't do it all that often - in fact, mostly when you're heavily aroused against him, and he (due to the fact that he's quite elderly) takes a little advantage of it. He prolongs with doing you good with his mouth, moves slowly inside you, oh, but how he returns the favor afterwards

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Oh, he is loud! Drew doesn't suppress his moans, loud breaths or saying how wonderful you are to him, how beautiful your body is and how much he loves you. He is sonorous and I think that is his advantage. Imagine that damn sexy voice of his worshiping you...

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Maybe it's because he's an actor - and such a perversion came out of his work, or maybe he just saw such a thing once in a porn. Drew had the thought, and more than once, of having sex with you as one of his film characters. I don't know, he wanted to get into Rafe's or Trevor's shoes and fuck you like they could (meaning he could)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Drew has a lot to show off. He's all big, so it's also no surprise that his boxers are constantly bulging. But I guess that doesn't bother anyone, right? Especially in your bed, as you finally feel as full as you should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) There are times when he can behave himself and tries not to pay so much attention to how sexy his girlfriend is, but this is rare. Even at the family home, he tries to take you aside, at least for a moment to go to the restroom to have a hot kissing session, and then go back to the family as if nothing ever happened. Oh, he can't take his hands off you and it takes so little for him to be at your every beck and call

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) You talk to each other for a long time before you fall asleep, but for Drew, first of all, it is important that you fall asleep first, only then will he feel properly to fall asleep - with the knowledge that his whole world is safe in his arms

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 4

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 4.1K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuation, cursing and my lack of golf knowledge

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

Y/N groaned when she woke up, her head already throbbing with a pounding headache. 

“Good morning!” Lando said cheerfully from beside her.

“Shut up,” she muttered, pulling the comforter over her face to block him out.

Lando laughed at her. “Sounds like you had a good time last night.”

“No, I didn’t. Because you guys had to pull me away before the fun could start.”

She buried her head deeper into the pillow and sighed. “I’m comfortable,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Okay, well, I’m going down for breakfast. Don’t stay in bed too long or you’ll miss it. There’s water and aspirin on the bedside table.”

Y/N hummed in response, drifting asleep again before Lando had even left the room for breakfast. When he reached the hotel restaurant, he spotted Max already sitting at a table, scrolling through his phone as he waited. Lando slid into the seat across from him.

“Good morning,” Lando said.

“Hey, morning,” Max responded, looking up from his phone at the new voice.

They got their breakfast and talked about their plans for the day. At the lack of female presence, they decided on something they would enjoy very much, but the girls maybe a little less; golfing. Max heard there was a good course nearby, and wanted to try it out, and Lando was not about to protest.

“Where’s P?” Lando asked after a while.

“You’ve only noticed now that she’s not here?” Lando rolled his eyes. “She’s sleeping in. She had quite a bit to drink last night. Not as much as my sister, though. Speaking of her, how’s she?”

“She’s okay, I think. Definitely hungover and very tired.”

Max laughed. “Didn’t expect anything different, to be honest.”

“You were pretty touchy last night, weren’t you?” He continued.

“What?” Lando asked, surprised at the direct and unexpected question.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you when you were guiding her out of the club; you were all over her. And P told me you couldn’t keep your hands off her yesterday while you two were alone. The day before that too, apparently, she was holding your hand, you said? And the arm on her chair at dinner?”

Lando was in shock. Usually, Max didn’t notice anything that happened between him and Y/N, but this time he had seen, or heard about, whatever was going on between the two. Of course, Pietra had something to do with it, Max was too thick to realise it himself. Although he had touched her more than usual, maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Uhm—”

“You like her don’t you?”

Lando nearly choked on his tea at the blunt question, landing himself in a choking fit. “Uh, yeah, I suppose you could say that. Look, I don’t want—”

“It’s okay, man. I trust you, You’ve got my blessing. I think you’ll be good for each other, you’ll just have to convince her of it first,” Max said, laughing at the image forming in his head.

Lando blinked in disbelief, not really believing he got Max’s permission. It wouldn’t make a difference, but it was good to know their friendship wouldn’t be ruined. “Thanks, man,” he said, before joining in his laughter. “Convincing her though,” he breathed in sharply, “yeah, that’s going to be tough.”

– – – – –

Y/N shot up in bed when she heard the door of her room close loudly, rubbing her eyes tiredly at the abrupt end to her sleep.

“You awake?” Lando asked.

She hummed, moving herself into a more comfortable sitting position as she watched Lando enter the room. “What’s that?” she asked, hinting at the covered plate in his hands.

“I brought you some food, you missed breakfast.”

“Oh, thanks,” she mumbled, accepting the plate from him.

“You didn’t drink your water yet?”

“Hm?”

“The water? On the bedside table?” He clarified.

“Oh, I didn’t see it, I fell asleep again.”

“Don’t forget to take the aspirin. We’re going out in a bit,” he told her as he walked around the room.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked before biting into one of the strawberries.

“Golfing,” Lando answered from the bathroom. He could hear her groan of annoyance through the wall.

“That’s what you get when you miss breakfast; the men get to decide.”

Y/N scoffed. “Very daring, calling yourself a man.”

“Excuse me?” Lando said in fake offence.

“You heard me.”

“Now, don’t forget who brought you breakfast, water and aspirin. I can’t believe I went through all that trouble, and this is the thanks I get,” Lando said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Y/N shrugged, a small, satisfied grin on her face when they made eye contact. She got up from the bed not much later. “I’m going to shower,” she announced, quickly grabbing her stuff before disappearing into the bathroom.

She took her time in the shower, giving Lando a moment to get changed into his so-called ‘golf clothes’ before she returned. Her jaw was slack in surprise when she saw him; if these were golf clothes then she needed to go golfing more often. He looked good; the tank top he was wearing showed off the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders, making him look stronger than usual, hotter. She quickly banished that thought from her mind – she couldn’t be thinking things like that, it was extremely inappropriate of her; he was her brother’s best friend.

Y/N scolded herself when she realised she’d been staring at him. She brushed a hand along her hair, as if checking there were no loose strands from her ponytail, and straightened her skirt in an attempt to distract herself. She walked towards Lando, who was busy on his phone as he leant against the armrest of the couch. He looked up at her when she stopped in front of him, eyes slowly raking over her body while she put her wallet inside her purse.

“You ready to go?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Um…” She looked around the room, checking if she had forgotten something. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Lando got up from the couch at her answer, grabbing his bag of clubs from the closet – of course, he would have his own golf clubs, and travel with them – before opening the door. He stopped when Y/N followed after him with only her purse. “Aren’t you bringing your clubs?” He asked her.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You think I’d carry them myself? They’re already there, of course,” she said sarcastically, before clarifying, “I don’t have clubs, Lando. I never golf.” 

“Oh. Okay, then. Let’s go,” he concluded, before walking towards the elevator, where, coincidentally, Pietra and Max were already waiting. Y/N was surprised to find out her brother had taken his own clubs, too.

The group headed out in the rental car, Lando driving as he didn’t seem able to give up control over any vehicle he could drive himself, while the girls sat in the back. They were summing up all the things they’d rather be doing instead of golfing until Max snapped, telling them to leave if they wanted to do something else. The girls smiled in success, but stopped pestering him, they wanted to stay; Pietra wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend and Y/N was convinced by the opportunity to drive golf carts, plus she didn’t feel like spending the day alone.

When they arrived, the boys got everything set up, including two carts and clubs for the girls. Y/N claimed a set of keys as soon as Max showed them. “I’m driving,” she exclaimed before rushing to one of the carts and promptly placing herself in the driver’s seat. She watched with a grin as Max sighed and loaded her rented clubs into the cart. 

He walked up to where she was sitting. “P and I are gonna share a cart, so you’ll have to convince Lando to let you drive.”

Y/N pouted. “Lando again? We already spent all of yesterday together, and he’ll never let me drive,” she complained.

“Don’t mope,” Max told her off before walking to the other cart and driving off with Pietra.

Y/N sighed when Lando joined her, holding his hand out for the keys. “I’m driving,” she protested his unspoken question, “you already drove here.”

“Y/N,” Lando scolded her, but she ignored him, pushing him away. 

“It’s your time to be a passenger princess,” she told him as he walked around to the other side. He sighed when he sat down, already fearing for his life. “Be sure to hold onto something,” Y/N said before pressing her foot down. Her words increased his fear tenfold as he grappled for something to hold onto, eventually settling for the edge of the roof.

“Now, which way do we have to go?” Y/N asked.

“Dear Lord, slow down,” Lando said, panicking at her unsafe driving style. He desperately wanted a seatbelt right now.

“Tell me where the first hole is, then I’ll slow down,” Y/N said with a grin.

“Why are you driving full speed if you don’t even know where to go?” He asked in confusion. Y/N nearly giggled at the stressed look on his face, and his unnecessarily strong grip on the cart.

“If you don’t tell me where to go I’ll just keep driving in circles until we’re out of petrol.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, when she took a rather sharp turn.

“Lando!” She yelled back, taking another turn so they were actually driving in circles.

“Okay, okay!” Lando shouted, gripping the edge of the cart for dear life. He frantically scanned the course, his eyes darting between the signs and the other golfers. “That way! Just follow that cart, I think it’s Max!”

Y/N smirked and didn’t slow down quite as quickly as he’d hoped, taking another sharp turn before easing off the gas. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Lando exhaled in relief at the slower pace but his hand kept its strong hold on the side of the cart in fear she’d speed up again when he’d least expect it.

Y/N laughed at the sound. “You need to relax a little more, Lando. I thought you liked driving fast.”

“Only when I’m the one driving,” he muttered, pointing toward another cart in the distance. “Just follow Max and Pietra, and please no more crazy turns.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but only because I’m a nice person.”

Y/N continued to follow Max’s cart at a reasonable speed, though she couldn’t resist speeding up for the occasional bump, just to keep things interesting. When they caught up, she glanced over at Lando, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the way he was still tightly gripping his seat. She suppressed a smile at the comedic sight.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to be such a baby,” she teased.

“I’m not a baby, I wasn’t scared, I’m just trying to make sure we don’t flip over. There’s a difference,” Lando told her with a smirk.

“Mhm,” she hummed, clearly amused. She slowed the cart as they approached the first hole where Max was already waiting.

“You two alright?” Max called out with an obvious grin on his face. He knew exactly what kind of chaos Y/N had caused from the look on her face and Lando’s; the fact that she was behind the wheel said enough.

Lando shot him a glare. “Barely survived. Your sister’s a bad driver.”

Y/N scoffed. “Bad? I manoeuvred the cart perfectly at a high speed. If anything, I’m a great driver.”

“You’re a bad driver,” he repeated.

Y/N huffed. “I’m insulted, I will now proceed to pout. You should be glad I livened up your day a little.”

Lando looked at her incredulously before shaking his head with a grin. She had once again surprised him, and kept him on his toes, but he’d never be a passenger to Y/N again. At least, not without a seatbelt and maybe a helmet, too.

Y/N hopped out of the cart with excitement. The short drive had gotten her energy up and she was ready to hit some balls. She picked out a club with the help of Max and lined up for her first swing while he moved on to help Pietra. Lando stood back, watching her with amusement as she put the ball down. She knew she was terrible at golf, but didn’t seem to care, swinging wildly at the ball and completely missing it in the process; it was a sight to behold.

“Need help?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow.

She huffed, shaking her head before she readjusted her stance. “No. I’ve got this.”

Her second swing wasn’t much better, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you do.”

She glared at him. “I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”

“Not sarcasm,” he said, stepping closer. “Just offering my expertise.”

Y/N crossed her arms and gave him a sceptical look. “You think you’re some kind of golf expert?”

Lando shrugged casually. “Better than you, clearly.”

She was about to fire back another snappy retort but held it back. She could definitely use some help; she certainly wasn’t an expert – and if Lando offered to provide it, who was she to stop him?

“Alright, fine,” she said with a sigh, stepping back. “Show me how it’s done, then.”

Lando smirked as he stepped closer, his hand sliding down her arm to adjust her grip on the club. The subtle touch sent that familiar tingle coursing through her body, but she did her best to ignore it, focusing on his instructions instead. He positioned her arms and angled the club just right before moving behind her, his chest lightly pressing against her back, his arms covering hers as they practised a swing together. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but his closeness was impossible to ignore—it was all too distracting.

“You got it?” he asked her. Y/N hummed in response and he stepped away. She immediately missed his presence, his warm body, as the slight breeze hit her skin, but she refused to let it show.

“Alright, go for it,” Lando said, egging her on.

Y/N swung, this time actually hitting the ball instead of a lump of grass. It moved through the air quite smoothly, not exactly how far and where she’d hoped, but in the right direction. She squinted her eyes, trying to find her ball in the grass, a grin spreading across her face when she spotted it.

“Hey, that wasn’t so bad,” she said excitedly when she stepped away, watching as Max taught Pietra how to golf.

Lando hummed in agreement. “You just needed someone to show you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Lando leant a little closer – so close that she could feel his body warmth radiating off him. “Too late,” he whispered in a low voice, a teasing smile on his face.

Y/N shook her head at the comment, although a small smile slipped onto her face. She watched as her brother helped his girlfriend hit the ball, leant over her as they swung the club together, just like Lando had helped her mere moments ago. The image made her blush; Lando had stood just as close to her before, she had been able to feel his chest against her back and she had enjoyed it. She suddenly realised that he was still standing close—that she could still feel his warmth, and took a quick step away from him, trying to maintain the distance that Lando was so keen to close. She watched as Max and Pietra finished their turns from her new spot, before turning to Lando. “Your turn, golf expert,” she said in a mocking tone.

Lando laughed as he grabbed his golf club and placed his ball on the tee. His playful demeanour faded into focus as he adjusted his stance, a serious expression settling over his face. As much as she wanted to deny it, he looked good: the sunlight kissed his skin just right, hitting his tan in a way that made him glow. Not to mention, the top he was wearing perfectly displayed the strong muscles twisting under his skin as he hit the ball. Y/N was mesmerised as she watched him in action, blatantly staring at him while he stared after his ball. He caught her gazing when he turned back, a cheeky grin spreading on his face, causing her to blush in embarrassment.

“I guess you really are the expert,” she said while they walked back to the cart. Lando grinned at the compliment, but didn’t look up as he placed his club back in the bag, not wanting to show how much her simple sentence affected him.

At some point during the game, Y/N and Pietra had enough, annoyed at how bad they were at the sport and how boring it really was. They decided to just watch from the golf cart as the boys hit their balls, counting down the minutes until they were finished. Every time they drove to the next location Lando tried to steal the keys from Y/N, but so far he hadn’t managed to grab them. She was surprised her reflexes were quicker than those of an F1 driver but was happy about it nonetheless. She enjoyed the look of fear on Lando’s face whenever she took a sharp turn just a little too fast.

When the boys finally finished the game, they quickly returned the rental clubs, and unfortunately, the carts, too. Y/N dramatically bid farewell to her beloved golf cart before handing in the keys at the reception. Lando was very relieved he could drive himself again when they stepped into the rental car, teasingly copying Y/N’s behaviour as he greeted the car excessively, doing everything but kissing the steering wheel while she rolled her eyes at his antics.

The drive back to the hotel was short, but after the long day they’d had, the group settled for a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant before retreating to their rooms. Y/N was yawning as she walked around the room, tired from the day and last night’s bad sleep. After Lando was finished using the bathroom, she quickly changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth, ready to go to sleep. 

She grabbed a bottle of water on her way to the bed, opening it as she walked – not a good idea since she spilled it all over her pyjamas. She gasped at the cold water and dropped the bottle on the floor, causing an even bigger mess. “Fuck,” she muttered, hastily picking the bottle up before more water spilled and putting it on the desk nearby.

Lando glanced over as she walked back to the bathroom for a towel, his brow raised. “What happened?” 

She sighed, looking down at herself, “I just spilled water everywhere. I’m completely drenched.”

Lando smirked, sitting up to look at the situation. “I can help you with that.”

“Don’t even start.” She glared at him. “It’s not funny. I don’t have extra pyjamas.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “You can wear one of my shirts.”

She gave him a look. “Lando, you’re short.”

“How did we get to insulting me?” he said, frowning in feigned offence.

“I mean,” Y/N sighed again, softer this time, “we’re the same height. Your shirt won’t cover enough...”

He grinned. “I’m not seeing the problem here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do, you already saw my butt once.”

“Exactly, what’s the harm?” He said teasingly before his tone turned more serious. “Look,” he sighed, walking to his suitcase, pulling out a shirt, “it’s either this or sleeping in wet pyjamas. It’s the biggest one I’ve got.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking the shirt from him – she didn’t really have another choice. “Fine. Thanks,” She said before heading into the bathroom.

She changed quickly, turning around to check in the mirror how much the shirt actually covered. It was good enough. It smelled good too, like Lando, but she would never admit that. Y/N sighed and walked back to the bed. 

Lando looked up at the sound. “What now?” He asked teasingly, watching as she walked around. She looked good in his shirt, like she belonged in it. It suited her better than Lando.

“Just, my skin’s cold from the water,” she muttered, not thinking about what she said and what responses it might solicit – she blamed the wine at dinner.

Lando raised his eyebrows in surprise at the admission. “I could help with that too,” he volunteered cheekily. 

She shot him a look, clearly flustered at the blunt offer as her mouth hung slightly open in surprise. “Just go to sleep,” she told him, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over herself. Maybe if she was fast enough, he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up her neck.

Lando lay down next to her, shifting in the bed until he was comfortable. She could hear the bedding rustling and pulled her own comforter further up till the top reached her chin. Previously, the air conditioning hadn’t bothered her much, but now that she was only wearing Lando’s flimsy T-shirt, the cool air suddenly felt much colder.

It didn’t seem to bother Lando as much; he wasn’t tossing or turning like she was. She turned around to see him lying on his side, his back towards her. His bare arm over the duvet made it seem as if the air conditioner wasn’t making him uncomfortably cold, but of course, he was still properly covered up in his pyjamas.

She lay still in the bed for what felt like an hour, unable to fall asleep with the cold air brushing past her, effortlessly penetrating the thin duvet that covered her. She sighed, finally giving in to the intrusive thought that had been racing through her mind for at least half an hour.

“Lando?” She whispered.

No response.

“Are you awake?” 

Silence.

She pondered if she should try again. Maybe he was asleep already, she didn’t want to wake him up and disturb his sleep. But then again, she really was desperate – she had been trying to warm herself up for God knows how long, and it wasn’t working. She sighed again.

“Lando?” She tried once more, her voice just barely above a whisper.

“What?” He responds groggily.

“I just wanted to,” she paused, doubting whether it was worth it. “I’m sorry, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

She bit her lip. How should she approach this? After a moment of hesitation, Y/N asks, “Are you cold?”

Lando turned to face her, even though he could barely make out her face in the dark. What kind of question was that? He was about to fall asleep – did she have to wake him up for this?

“No, I’m fine.”

“Oh. I’m cold.”

“Okay,” he responded confusedly, “What am I supposed to do with that information?”

Y/N hesitated again. She thought her hint was pretty clear, but Lando didn’t get it, or he wanted to hear her say it, she wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know. You’re always offering to warm me up,” she trailed off.

Lando suddenly felt much more awake. Was she asking him to hold her? To keep her warm? He smiled smugly. “Finally taking me up on the offer, hm?”

At the lack of response, he continued. “You want me to hold you?” He asked softly, his voice sincere instead of teasing.

She tensed up at his directness, watching as Lando moved around on the bed to make himself comfortable before stretching his arm out as an invitation. “Come here, then,” he muttered.

Y/N slowly shuffled closer until her body was touching Lando’s, one arm tucked between them, the other tugging the duvet higher before settling on his chest as her head rested on his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer into his warmth. She stiffened at his tight grip.

“You could’ve just asked, you know,” he muttered against her hair. 

She could feel his thumb rubbing circles on her waist and her body slowly relaxed against him at the feeling. “You’re so annoying,” she whispered, already feeling herself becoming drowsy.

“Mhm,” Lando hummed, smiling into her hair. “But warm, right?”

“Shut up.”

– – – – –

Part 5

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spidey.lovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting @01rrdbull @alex-wotton @liv1209 @forensicheart @carey86 @avagracekeating @sltwins @graceln4 @chachaxbear @lucktales @benstormy @cheyennep3107 @suicidepanda07 @hellowgoodbye @itsartesworld @fleurskles @monstermash234 @haileysaintmleux @ainocilla @bicchaan @lnlightning81 @f1updates4you @rana-dprian @slytherinbithc @fangirl125reader @saturnbloom77 @itssueed @rebecca-9

[sohighonuu]

they don’t have what we have. ⟢

pairing. nicholas chavez x poc!fem reader .ᐟ

synopsis. nicholas will always be there for you. ༘⋆

warnings. this might not make sense ! wrote this when i was half asleep ;3 ⭑.ᐟ

DATING NICHOLAS COULD be so difficult at times. everyone followed your every single step, & fans were just truly obsessed with you. (not that that’s a bad thing..)

and with that being said.. as you scrolled on instagram you saw a post that had a picture of you & nicholas with the caption " they’re so cute together! "

which of course made you smile, why wouldn’t it?

but unfortunately as soon as you got into the comments your smile faded. you saw people saying that you didn’t deserve him, you guys should break up, and that you were not pretty enough for him.

not pretty enough for him?? come on. you? not pretty enough? of course you didn’t let them get to you because it’s just petty comments.

they’re just jealous.

two weeks later, people were still going on and on about you and nicholas. honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t starting to get to you.

girls are constantly talking about you and being all in your relationship, how could that not get to someone?

it was just all tiring.

and now, you’ve gotten distant from nicholas because of it.

nicholas obviously noticed the change in you after the last time you guys hung out, your dry text messages, & the way you’d always try to make up an excuse not to go out.

for a whole week, you barely even talked to him. you didn’t know up to set like you’d normally do, and when you did show up to set, you kinda just avoided him.

he tried to give you your space even though he didn’t quite know what he did, assuming that maybe you were just tired from the week. but as the week passed, he began to become concerned.

finally he decided to go over to your house, just to check on you, see what was actually going on with you..

he knocked on the door softly. " i’m busy! " he hums before knocking again. you knitted your eyebrows together as he continued to knock.

" i’m busy! go away! " you said, rolling your eyes with a sigh. " hm? too busy for me? " nicholas said through the door.

there was a small pause as he continued knocking. you stood in front of the door, hesitating if you should open it.

finally, you opened the door and stood in front of him, your eyes puffy. " hi. " he said with a grin. " hi, nicholas. "

you never called him nicholas.. he could also tell that you’d been crying. " what’s been going on with you baby? tell me, are you okay? " he said, stepping through the door.

as you walked to the couch, he followed closely behind you. you finally told him everything that had been happening in the past week.

" sweetheart, at the end of the day, i’m in your arms and not theirs. "

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 6

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny and Simon argue.

CW: mentions of dub con/non con; domestic abuse; ableist slurs

-

Just when you settle in at your job he starts showing up at the diner to terrorize you, like an illness you cannot shake or a cloud you cannot outrun. Maybe he knows that that’s where you’re hiding your phone.

Maybe he knows that you have almost two thousand dollars stashed in your locker in the break room.

Either way, there is no rhyme or reason to his visits. He sets a pattern (once a week) and then breaks it, coming two days in a row, and then doesn’t visit for a whole month, until you are constantly off balance, always dreading the sound of the bell over the door.

Today when he comes, he seats himself at the bar where you are required to talk to him. He watches you work, delighting in the way your hands shake while you pour his coffee. You’ve never met someone who feeds off of fear like this, who gorges themselves on your flinches and trembling.

You think about shattering the coffee pot and taking one of the shards to his throat. You long to slit open his bloated belly and steal back all the feeling he has stolen from you. But you are useless, neutered by the fear that still remains, the fear yet to be eaten. One day…

“This one’s new,” he says, nodding to the new girl: young, with hair in a glossy, gleaming braid over her shoulder.

You tell him her name. How long she’s been working there now. That she’s nice. He hums, filing all the knowledge away in his head and dubbing it all useless by remarking, “Pretty.”

Your hand clenches into a tight fist around the rag you are using to wash down the bar. You don’t know why that bothers you. He hasn’t called you pretty since the early days when he was still trying to win you out from under your family’s thumb—like you wouldn’t have gone anywhere with anyone to be free of them, at the time (You’d had no idea that there were worse creatures out there than the ones who raised you). Maybe there’s some sick part of you that still wants to be wanted by him, that still wants to be pretty.

“Where’s Jackie?” he asks. Then, just to make your head spin: “You’ve been texting her more lately.”

Your skin flushes hot and then cold. You want to ask how he knows that, how he knows at all about the contact in your phone you named JACKIE when you keep your phone in your storage locker at work at all times, charging it in the breakroom, never to bring it home.

You hadn’t been stupid enough to save Simon’s number under his own name. No, God might not have given you enough sense to fill a teacup, but He gave you enough to fill a thimble. You just had to hope that would be enough. You had to hope that you could pull Jackie aside the next time you were both working together and that she would be willing to cover for you, should your boyfriend ask her about your ‘texts’. You hated bringing anyone else into the network of your own lies, but wrote it off as a necessary pain.

“It’s her day off,” you tell him.

He hums, doubtful.

The bell over the door rings.

Johnny looks thin and tired, arm crutch in place as Simon holds the door open for him. He’s dressed for the warm weather in a t-shirt and shorts which show the surgical scars at his knee, vivid purple lines in the fluorescent lights of the diner.

Simon spots you first, and a peculiar look comes over his face, one that you hope your boyfriend doesn’t see because you would have no way to explain it. You wouldn’t call it fondness, but it’s one of recognition certainly, a deeper understanding than you can just pass off as having run into each other a few times in the building.

Johnny sees you next and his face brightens. The strangest thought comes to you: I have made a friend. Then his eyes naturally flicker to your boyfriend, and his entire demeanor transforms—into one of such strange, dark, poignant delight, as if he and your boyfriend are old pals who have run into each other after years apart.

It makes your stomach turn over, and you don’t know why.

You’ve been silent too long. Your boyfriend has noticed, his head turning to take in the new patrons. He asks, voice mild and amused: “You know them?”

“They’re our neighbors. 5C.”

He sits up straighter. “No shit? That’s the cripple you almost killed?”

“He’s not a cripple,” you mutter.

“Sure looks like one from here.” Your boyfriend gives a little salute in greeting.

Johnny makes a beeline for the bar, crutch thudding rhythmically against the tiled floor with every purposeful step. He sits in the seat beside your boyfriend, removing his arm crutch and shifting it to rest on his other side against the edge of the bar. Simon reaches out and adjusts it to keep it from sliding over.

Simon slips into the seat beside him, quiet and solemn, looking like a man braced for bad news.

“Hey there, neighbor. Sorry about all that mess in the parking lot the other day,” your boyfriend says. He jerks a thumb toward you. “She never should have been behind the wheel if we’re being honest.”

“Then why the hell was she?” Johnny wonders, accent thicker than usual, rough. His tone is mild, but the grin pinned on his face is like a wolf’s: hungry for blood. Dangerous. It is so at odds with his happy demeanor that it makes goosebumps rise on your arms. For the first time since you’ve met him, Johnny frightens you.

Your boyfriend is no idiot. He senses the thinly veiled malevolence beneath Johnny’s words but doesn’t understand it (and neither do you). Maybe Johnny really is still upset about almost getting squished like a bug beneath your car, but in that case, his anger at your boyfriend is misplaced. You turn away, grabbing two empty mugs, shoulders tensing. Waiting for all that anger to find somewhere to go.

Your boyfriend shifts on his seat, sighing through his nose a little. He doesn’t like to admit this. “I had some trouble a while back. Got my license revoked.”

Johnny coos, condescending and mean: “Bad luck.”

“Johnny,” Simon says, voice flat with a warning. You place the mugs down in front of him and Johnny, your hands shaking. Reaching for the coffee pot, you fill both their cups to the hallway mark, leaving room for sugar and cream. Some sloshes over the edge of Johnny’s cup.

“Stupid. Stupid,” you mutter, reaching for your rag to wipe it away. The three of them pay you no mind.

“We should have you over. I get a couple of close friends together on Saturdays and we play poker. You’re welcome to join us,” your boyfriend says, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You blanch, rag dropping uselessly to the counter from your lax hand. The idea of Johnny and Simon being in your personal space, in the place where Bad Things Happen is a nightmare. Though you know they wouldn’t, (good people. They are good people), the thought of them taking place in Saturday poker rituals makes you feel sick. Fresh in your mind is your dream from the other night when you had ridden Simon until your boyfriend passed you on to someone new, and the thought of it becoming a reality is—it’s too much.

You leave your body.

“What do you think, baby?” he asks you, smiling. “Would you like to have them over? Would that be fun?”

“Yes,” your mouth answers numbly, because it has to.

“Then it’s settled. First deal is at noon and we play through the evening.”

“We’ll fucking be there,” Johnny says, words sounding adjacent to a threat.

Your boyfriend doesn’t stay long after that. Perhaps a part of him feels threatened by the presence of Simon, or perhaps he’s grown bored with tormenting you, but eventually he places money (your money. It’s your money. It’s your fucking money—) on the bar top and leaves, the bell ringing at his exit.

Johnny turns his blue eyes onto you. The wolf-like quality that had frightened you so much has fled, receded back into the man, no longer needed. But you know it is there. It’s in every man.

His voice is remarkably gentle when he asks you: “Lass, are you alright?”

“Yes,” your mouth says.

“You’re crying,” says Simon simply, reaching for a napkin to hand you. Your hand reaches for it numbly and uses it to pat at your face.

“It’s just something in my eye.” Your hands stuff the napkin in your apron and pull out your pad and pen, hand poised to write, eyes empty and unseeing. “What can I get for you?”

-

“He’s beatin’ her,'' Johnny says mildly. He waits until they are inside Simon’s car, stuck in traffic on the way back to the apartment. The heat is stifling, the AC not yet working after the time the car spent baking in the sunlight of the diner’s parking lot.

Simon reaches out and adjusts the knobs, turning them more toward himself. Johnny doesn’t like the cold much anymore, making Simon dread the thought of winter coming to the city, of snow. He can’t imagine what it will be like to be Johnny then, surrounded by ice all over again. Clearing his throat, he says: “I know.”

Johnny’s head snaps over to look at Simon, and the expression on his face is one akin to absolute betrayal. It’s the deepest of hurts, like Simon has reached out across the center console and slapped him. Johnny’s never given him that look in his entire life, and Simon could have gone the rest of his life without seeing it.

“You know. You know. And just what have you done to help her?”

“Help her?” Simon asks, bracing one elbow against the driver’s side door and massaging at his temples where a headache has been growing for the last two days. “How the hell do you want me to do that?”

“I can think of a few ways,” Johnny says darkly. “A few accidents that could happen to that cunt next door—”

“No,” Simon snaps. “Don’t even think about it, Johnny. Not only are you in no condition, but it’s fucking illegal.”

“So was half the shite we did in the name of Queen and Country,” Johnny hisses.

“We were following orders,” Simon says, hackles rising. “There’s a difference.”

“The difference is that now you’d have to use your own mind instead of letting someone else do the thinking fer you,” Johnny says, anger making him cruel.

Simon grits his teeth together. The car inches forward in traffic, and it takes all of his self control not to slam on the gas and rear end the car in front of him just to end this fucking conversation with Johnny.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, aiming for calm. He tries more sense, even if it feels like pushing a boulder uphill: “We have no resources to help her, and no idea that she even wants help.”

“Of course she wants help!” Johnny cries. “Why the fuck wouldn’t she?”

“Lots of reasons,” Simon says, thinking of his mother. What had been her reason for staying with his father for so long, for always being willing to open the door to him when he came knocking? Children. Money. Her religion. “You’re thinking of it in black and white but it isn’t. Nothing is.”

“Some things are. Some things are just wrong.” And then, voice laden with disappointment: “Yer a coward, Simon Riley.”

Simon feels these words in his chest, like Johnny has shaped them into a knife and jammed them between his ribs. Simon stares at the license plate in front of them until the numbers and letters blur together, until his eyes burn. His jaw aches from biting back so many hurtful things that he knows he could say, that he wants to say, just to hurt Johnny the way Johnny has hurt him.

But that’s just the imprint of his father on him, like a smudged thumbprint on the glass of his DNA. He’s a better man than that.

He knows it, even if Johnny doesn’t anymore.