#my final bingo fic! <3

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 18

[Read on AO3]

A few months ago he would have dug in his heels. Would have really put these fancy boots to the test struggling against both Kiki and Sir’s attempts to strong arm him into this ballroom, and left a good bit of sole streaked along the stone for his troubles. Obi might not have the muscle Mister does, but but what he lacks in raw strength he makes up for with sheer cussedness. A hard thing for the Big Guy to handle, historically. Not so much for Lady Seiran.

But that was when he was just Master’s messenger, a failed assassin up-jumped to knighthood. When the only thing that kept him orbiting in the court’s highest circles was a royal decree; a flimsy bit of paper and an unbreakable chunk of crystal his only assurance between respectability and the gutter he’d been born into. And tonight—

Tonight he’s Miss’s husband. So he lets Miss Kiki lay her hand over his fine sleeve, and tries to forget that a few years ago, he would have jumped straight off this balcony. Folded himself as thin as foolscap to slip in among the shrubbery, biting his lip bloody to keep the giggles in when the guards tromped past. He’s half-tempted to try it still— he might be bigger now, better fed, but he could still give those rookies a run for their money when it came to a rousing game of cat-and-mouse— but he catches one glimpse of dress blacks through the balustrade, followed by another two or three and, well, it’s clear His Majesty already took cold feet into consideration, even after the papers were signed.

“You can’t possibly think he would let you slip through his fingers now,” Kiki murmurs, all smiles as they stride through the doors. There’s a few curious eyes that fall on them, and an even greater number that linger on the hand Sir’s got clamped to his shoulder, all friendly on the outside, but all steel hidden beneath the skin. “Not when he needs to give these people a show.”

Fair enough. The man’s not one to leave good behavior up to chance. Not his, at least. “Yeah, it’ll be a real production all right. How come no one told me there was going to be public speaking involved in this whole marriage thing?”

“Oh my,” she drawls, one corner of her mouth lifting. That’s practically a guffaw in Kiki-speak. “You didn’t think all this fêting came for free, did you?”

“Considering how I didn’t have a say in any of it” — hell, he barely consented to more than a signature on paper and a wife in name— “yeah, kinda.”

Kiki’s too dignified for a snort— at least in this dress— but the air huffs right out of her still, like this whole disaster is a real laugh riot. “You’ve never had a problem singing for your supper before. Most of the time, we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Well, sure, but that’s different.” On the business end of her ladyship’s arched brow, Obi’s tongue nearly trips over itself to blurt out, “I have to actually mean what I say this time.”

That brow hikes higher, if it’s even possible. Curves itself so much it nearly comes to a point— one Kiki would be happy to hold to his throat, if her glare had its druthers.

“I mean,” he wheedles, “that I have to be earnest.”

“Oh, come on now, Obi.” Sir chuckles, giving that lantern jaw of his a good workout. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

For Miss, sure. Master, at least once or twice. He’d even summoned up some liquid courage and managed it with Kiki and Sir.  But— “Not in front of people who would eat me alive.”

“There are times I’d like to eat you alive,” Kiki informs him, helpful as always. “If only to get you to stop talking.”

“Kiki.”

“I don’t see why you’re taking that chiding tone with me.” Now it’s the Big Guy under the weight of that oppressive brow, made all the more ominous by the lack of expression beneath it. “It’s true.”

“Well, yes,” Sir allows, red creeping up from his collar. “But you don’t have to say it.”

“I, for one, would be happy to be devoured by you, my lady.” Obi gives her his most charming smile, hand pressed to the place Miss tells him his heart would be— at least according to anatomical models, she would say, too thoughtful. Which only depict the most likely shapes and places of organs. Some people even have hearts on the right side of their chest, if you can believe it. “So long as it would keep me from having to make this toast.”

“You can’t be that hard pressed to say something nice.” Obi’s used to bearing up under Lady Kiki’s glares and scowls, to soldiering through her glowers and leers, but none of those are as devastating as the concern she turns on him now. “It’s Shirayuki, after all.”

It’d be harder to find fault with her, that’s what her stare implies, and that’s— that’s the problem. If they asked him to go up there and wax poetic about the blue of Master— Zen’s eyes, or the breadth of Mister’s shoulders, or the keenness of Kiki’s blade, he could raise enough praise to get them past the heaven’s gates. But to ask him to talk about Miss, to even touch the angles of what she means to him and think to come away unbloodied—

“Maybe…” Big Guy coughs, kindly keeping his eyes elsewhere as he suggests, “…you could just talk about how grateful you are.”

“What?” It’s Obi’s turn to lift a brow now, mouth ratcheting to its wryest angle. “For getting strong armed into a wedding?”

“I meant…” Sir grunts, an agitated flush working its way up from his collar. “For the opportunity to celebrate. Not everyone talks about their” — feelings, that’s what he’s trying so hard not to say— “the bride. Or groom! But their, er…gratitude for their guests—”

“That I didn’t invite.”

“—Or your host,” he adds, more than a bit strangled. “For honoring you. Even your wife for—”

“Putting up with you.” Kiki’s teeth glint like a knife’s edge between her lips. “She deserves the credit.”

“What about you, Mister?” Obi asks, ignoring her ladyship’s all-too knowing smirk. “You did one of these, didn’t you?”

“Well, er…” There’s red blooming right at the tips of his ears, almost painful to look at. “Not, ah…really, no.”

“What?” He stares at him, wide-eyed, before letting it drop the foot to fix on Kiki. “How come he gets out of it, but I don’t?”

“Precedence,” she says, all simple, like he should be able to figure out from there. “As host, it fell to my father to toast the assembled party—”

“I would have though you’d remember.” Sir’s got his brow all furrowed, like Obi should have written this all down in his diary or something. “You had, er, comments after he was done.”

“Notes,” Kiki offers with a twitch of her lips. “They were extensive.”

“Sir.” Obi pressed a scandalized hand to his chest. “Do you think I’d do you the disservice— no, dishonor, even— of being sober enough at your wedding to remember it?”

“Obi…”

Kiki raises a hand, laying it against Sir’s arm. “No, he has a point.”

Mister stares down at her. “Really?”

“But if the host’s suppose to be the one doing all the toasting, how come it’s my head on the block tonight?” Obi gives the silk swags and effusive floral arrangements a pointed glance. “I’m certainly not the one footing this bill.”

There it is, another twitch of her ladyship’s mouth. Oh, what a laugh riot she’s having tonight. “Members of the royal family are exempt from the rule.”

“What?” He doesn’t so much speak as squawk, drawing every noble eye within shouting distance. Lower, he adds, “But they’re the ones raised to talk in front of people.”

“Yes, but— what is it you’re so fond of saying to Zen?” Her teeth flash again, and he’s half convinced he can feel the points pricking at his throat. “They suffer us to live at their leisure.”

“That is definitely not what I say.” Though he’s thought it often enough. “It’s ‘I live at your pleasure.’”

It’s awful how elegant all that breeding can make a shrug. “Same difference.”

“If Shirayuki’s father were here, it would be his job to make the toast,” Sir explains, more than a little harried. Marriage might have given him a fancy title, but politics still make the man break out in a cold sweat. “But since that’s not…er…possible, it’s yours.”

“Didn’t the Marquis stand in for him out there?” Begrudgingly, on both sides, but still legally binding. “A proxy, or whatever? Shouldn’t he be the one putting together some flowery speech about duty and lying back and thinking of Clarines—”

Kiki snorts. “Do you really want Haruka lecturing the court on your worthiness as a husband?”

“All right,” he relents, steps dragging the closer they come to the banquet hall. “Good point.”

*

It’s not that Obi expects Kiki and Sir to hold his hand through the rest of the reception— at some point they’ll expect him to play lord to Miss’s lady, after all, and he assumes that will involve some ritual   hand fondling and meaningful eye contact. Much as he’d like someone to feed him his lines in this little skit, three’s a crowd, and four makes for the sort of gossip it’d take more than a marquis’s glare to clean.

It’s just— he thought they might at least see him over the threshold.

Instead, their little party hits a halt right when parquet changes its pattern, the vise grip at his shoulder easing just as Kiki’s talons retract from his sleeve, leaving him to stand there, dumb, as Miss settles in his sights. Her dress is less impressive behind a table, but the gold still shimmers as she sighs, her own eyes searching the room until she finds—

Ah, him. It’s him she’s looking for. At least, that’s what her smile says when she does, so bright and pleased he has half a mind to run right back out this door and—

And only one breath deep in that idea, the Lord and Lady Seiran slap his back hard enough to stumble him across the finish line.

“Good luck,” Sir murmurs, stepping out from his side.

Kiki slips around him, taking her husband’s arm. “You’ll need it.”

Hah. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Still, he’ll give it to them— getting over the threshold makes it easier to stroll it, even with the Marquis glaring a hole through his back. Obi’s got half a mind to saunter over there and ask about payment for a job well done— maybe it took him a couple years, but their red haired guest wouldn’t be marrying any princes anytime soon.

But it’s Miss’s eyes that draw him back, that keep his feet angled along the straight and narrow. A lady’s supposed to maintain her composure, to play coy when the object of her attention draws near, never letting a soul know her true desires— but Miss squirms with his every step, so giddy she might burst at the seams before he get to her, and it’s—

It’s infectious. Obi’s not one for butterflies in his stomach— and for all that he may joke, he’s not the kind of man with gentle flutterings of the heart either— but he’s buoyant when he bounds toward her, lighter on his feet than he’s ever been. Unsinkable, that’s how he feels as he takes his seat beside her, smirk outstretched to a smile.

“Miss.” He flips his hand on his lap palm-up; an invitation, if she cares to take it.

“Obi.” A corner of her mouth curls, mischief bright in her eyes. “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.”

My name. Even now he can remember color of her eyes, so dark he thought he might get lost in them. I’d like you to say it. Just one more time.

He can taste it on his tongue, feel the shape of it filling his mouth, and ah, if they asked him to do that stupid toast right now, he’d sing so many of her praises he’d make minstrels wish they had half as must poetry in them. “My lady.”

A laugh huffs out of her, sweeter than any wine His Majesty could serve them. “That’s not what I meant.”

He’s tempted to tease, to try and draw another please from her before he lets her have her way, but the ornate chairs beside their own sober him better than a judge. “We should talk.”

The shine disappears from her eyes, smile dimming to the realm of mere mortals. “Of course. We haven’t had the chance since…”

Say it. Obi, please…

She flushes, right from her tasteful décolletage to her hairline. It’s terrible how much he’d like to feel its heat against his lips. “You probably have a lot you’d like to ask.”

He hadn’t— just this toast business, and only then to concoct a speech they could both live through, with minimal mortification— but now that she’s mentioned he should—

“Excuse me.” A hand claps him on the shoulder, familiar in its weight— and how hard it grips him, like a mother cat biting its kitten’s scruff. “I think you’re in my seat.”

He blinks, adding up that soft, pale skin and the calluses across the palm at the same time Shirayuki gasps, “Oh, Zen!”

Her hand doesn’t slip from his, but Obi does from hers, turning to grin up at this lost prince. “Well, hello there, Highness. You take a wrong turn at the punch bowl?”

“I’m afraid not.” His smile is strained at the corners, like hide stretched across a rack. “This is my seat, and yours is to my sister’s other side.”

Obi stares down the table, stymied. “That’s three seats away.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t seem it when he shrugs, adding, “Precedence. You understand, don’t you?”

Miss frowns, a little furrow digging in between her brows. “But—?”

“Of course, Master.” It’s with numb legs that Obi gets to his feet, smiled stretched thin. “That’s the one thing you can always count on me for— I know my place.”

*

Obi might have been in the practice of dodging Wirant’s late night soirées, begging off invitations with reasons that ranged from the mundane— already scheduled to be on shift that night, and he’d walk the length of the wall between Lyrias and Wirant twice over before it was done— to the absurd— another greenhouse apprentice had managed to mix up the two different shigure, and Yuzuri had requested all hands to rescue the plants in the lower beds— but he’d gone to enough to know that the worst part of the night wasn’t all the ambitious mamas, looking for a likely knight to foist their foolish daughters on. Nor was it the dancing, though the ceaseless circles bored him— and Miss’s attempts at copying them usually resulted in a new set of boots for him— or the conversation, which even Miss called tedious, and he called mind-numbing.

Oh no, the worst part would be waiting for the titles to stop talking and eat. Those kitchens would be filled with some of the best chefs in the country making their most delicious dishes, and still theses lords and ladies would let it grow cold as they milled about the dinning room, more eager to fill their bellies with gossip than food.

But tonight, Obi hardly notices the foot-dragging; no, his attention is bent down the table, watching as Master leans into Miss, whispering in her all-too eager ear. Must be funny, whatever he says; Miss lifts her hand, hiding her giggles behind it.

Three seats away. Obi snorts. Even marrying her kept her closer to Zen.

A hand folds over his, gently urging his palm flat. “You’re going to tear the linens.”

It’s not in him to startle, but he does glance up, right into Her Majesty awaiting smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think of it.” Her eyes slip from his to drift over the feast hall, never lingering more than a moment on a face before floating to the next. “This will all be over soon.”

“Soon?” It’s three years by his count. Too long and too short, in turns.

“Of course.” One elegant hand lifts, gesturing toward the tables. “Soon, our guests will be seated, toasted and fed, and once our stomachs have settled, you will open the floor with your lady wife. Not so long at all, if you are to think of it like that.”

Obi blinks, running the numbers, but still— he’s got no idea what Her Majesty’s on about. “Not so long until what?”

He’s getting sloppy, letting a mistake like that leave his mouth. It’s barely tripped off his tongue before she’s fixed him with something so like her husband’s smirk it makes his skin itch. “Until we send you away, of course.”

“Send us away?” If only he did remember more of Sir’s wedding, he might know why his mouth’s gone all dry. “Where?”

Her Majesty is too refined for glares and sarcasm, but the looks she sends him is rather flat. “To your rooms. Where you will retired for the night.” A corner of her mouth curls, and when her mouth does part, her smile is all teeth. “It wouldn’t do for the happy couple to dance all night. Not when you both have much more pressing duty to attend.”

It’s a good thing they haven’t started the first course, since Obi does a fine enough job choking on his own spit. “Duties—?”

Silver chimes against crystal, and the steady din of conversation in the hall comes to an utter standstill. Oh, Zen’s accused his tongue of being honeyed and silvered and honed to an edge, but the second he looks out on this crowd, it sits dull and leaden in his mouth. Obi’s palms prickle with perspiration and he presses them to the table, knowing there’s no more time to complain, no more time to bargain, he just has to stand up and—

And sit back down again, since it’s Lata who’s on his feet now, glass in hand. Lata who is glaring down the table at where another man stands, knife still poised beside the glass, glowering back.

“Oh my,” Her Majesty sighs, sounding more amused than taken aback. “Marquis Haruka and Lata Forzeno. The majordomo must be falling to pieces.”

It’s more of that precedence again, that same jostling of elbows between a well-titled lord and an heir apparent to a better one that had them both squeezing their shoulders down the aisle. Obi can’t say he’s the biggest fan, but he’ll give it this: watching these two duke it out over who has the right to say the nicest stuff about him is the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. Better than him trying to choke through it on his own, at least.

But there’s one man here who trumps both of them in position and prestige, and it’s him who gets to his feet, glass upraised.

“My lords, if you would allow me,” Zen says, each word enunciated with such crystal clarity it brokers no protest. “I would like to say a few words.”

There’s little and less that either of them can do in the face a prince, and it’s with great reluctance— from the Marquis— and begrudging respect— from Lata— that they both lower to their seats cede the floor to him.

“First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to see my good friends wed.” Zen casts him a long look down the table before turning back to his audience. “I have known both bride and groom for a long while, and I must say, many of us never thought this day would come.”

Because it was never supposed to, that’s what His Highness won’t say, though the strain of his smile does well enough. Because it was supposed to be me here.

“If I had been told only a few years ago that I would be seeing them married”—Master shakes his head, and the court laughs with him— “Suffice to say, they could not have been less suited for each other. But there’s few hearts Shirayuki can’t turn, and even fewer troubles Obi can’t talk his way out of, and somehow, they have both become some of my closest companions. My most loyal retainers.”

Master peers down at Miss, and Miss looks up at him, and for a moment, Obi sees how it should have been. The two of them together, husband and wife, hands tangled together beneath the table as Zen stood to speak. Oh, how Miss’s eyes would shine as his love of her was finally put on display, put into words so pretty there’s be songs about it, played in every tavern from here to Lyrias. The both of them side-by-side, taking the first step into their future together, always facing forward—

And him, somewhere near the back of the room, clad in his dress blacks, just happy he pulled the right shift. Because that’s what mutts like him deserve: a chance to guard the door.

“After their years together at Lyrias, I’m certain of two things. First, that together, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. And second” — Zen fixes him with a pointed look— “that Obi knows how to do his duty.”

There’s a smattering of applause as he takes his drink— one that continues longer than it might, were it anyone else who spoke. But a prince deserves his due, and they’re still clapping even and Obi takes his own mouthful of drink, barely tasting more than bubbles as he swallows it down.

And it’s in that moment that Miss stands, her own untouched glass clenched in her hand. That she looks down the table and fixes him with a look that shines.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says, jaw set like she doesn’t care either way. “I have something I would like to say too.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #1000 followers #my fic #desert and reward #ans #and finally we have reached the end of the voted-on gifts for the 1000 followers celebration! #next week is gonna be the first of the raffle fics #and hopefully i'll have all this wrapped up before bingo in june #we are also FINALLY getting closer to closing out this wedding #and closing out the Wistal portion of this fic #i think 1-2 chaps before this party ends #and maybe another 2-3 after than and then we'll be back with Morel et al. #for what i think my be the third and final act of this fic #BUT WE SHALL SEE

[thedeadthree]

the brainrot is brainrotting !!!!!!!! 🥀🥴🤧

#leg.txt #*personal #in the mean time i will make the moodboards and edits and things for cy and the w*itcher fic clowns bc the brainrot is SOO rn kxjxhxh 🥀🥴 #i need to have something made for cythia i need to so darn tootin bad !!!!!!! #i have to be ✨ responsible ✨ with my funds atm sisjzh but i am SOO excited 🥀😭 #this verse is very very much must be made into a fic or SOMETHING i am far too invested to NOT be yk?? #i found a bunch of gif making resources tutorial thingys it would be fun i think to make FINALLY try my hand at a n*etflix edit 🥀🥴💀 #and other thingys as well gifwise i have thoughts!!!!! ideas!! things!!!!!! yay !! #i have one more fc to find and then i can debut the fic board i am SOO EXCITED AT LAST I CAN YELL MORE ABOUT IT IM SO CLOSE I CAN TASTEE IT #i still need to think of a name for it and the plot lines ill have but it’ll for sure be have a number of parts and things :) #i did not have me writing a possible long fic on my bingo card for this decade or year but!!!!!! #i mean there’s more things i am planned for developing lhysas verse in this as well but ONE AT A TIME LEGGY !!!!!! 💀 #(and nyctemine as well i have missed her and this verse so much i am SOO happy the brainworms came back 🥀🥹) #it’s my comfort verse and comfort clowns yk?? <3 #anyway that is my update from my hideyhole akzjshhs i hope y’all are well!!!!! <3

[skz-vla]

Go Write A Letter (About Me)

✦ Friends to Lovers, Summer, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Idiots, Fluff, Slight Jealousy, Strip Clubs, Pining ✦ minsung for minsung and han bingo on twt ✦ Finished, 13.4k ✦ Rated T

#minsung fic #minsung bingo #stray kids fic #minsung #skz fanfic #yay another fic <3 last one for the minsung bingo ^^ #go write a letter (about me) #finally friends to lovers again GOD BLESS #t: fic update #m: mine #m: my fics

[formulafics]

★ THE OTHER WOMAN | LN4/OP81

Scenario: lando norris is in love with his best friend. she doesn’t see it, but everyone else does, and even though lando doesn’t outwardly tell her about his feelings for her, he doesn’t try to hide it. unfortunately for him, she has her eyes on someone else, someone that makes it all the more painful. (requested)

Pairing(s): lando norris x fem!reader, oscar piastri x fem!reader

Warning(s): angst. just gut wrenching angst.

A/N: i learned one thing and it’s that i am NOT built for angst. that being said, i literally made a second part as a fix it fix BUT. its landoscar, which i know may not be everyone’s thing, but if it is your thing, here’s the link 🤭🫶🏻

yn.ln

liked by landonorris, riabish, maxfewtrell, alex_albon, and 128,923 others

yn.ln it’s this sweet boys birthday. my favorite human forever, i love you @/landonorris

view all 4,567 comments

landonorris i love you more

⤷ yn.ln actually impossible 🤓☝🏻

maxfewtrell get someone who looks at you the way lando looks at yn

⤷ norrisnation MAX YOU GET IT KING

rizzciardo yn baby he is in love with you 😭

landonation day 476 of yn not realizing that lando is in love with her

formulanorris HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANDO ❤️

posted november 13, 2022

racingandwags

liked by pierregasly and others

racingandwags oscar piastri is rumored to be dating yn ln, lando norris’s long time best friend after the two showed up to the paddock together recently. what do you think?

view all 982 comments

lh44nation now what the hell is pierre doing here 😭

carlandolvr are you so serious that this is happening on the week of landos home race

norrisnation what.

norrisnation no because why is yn looking at oscar the way lando looks at her and why is oscar also looking at her like that what is happening guys this isn’t funny

formulanorris this was NOT on my 2023 bingo card??? surely you guys mean lando and yn lolololol

⤷ rizzciardo i mean for what it’s worth, yn always shows up with lando so maybe this is no different. like she and oscar are just friends showing up together

⤷ rizzciardo reading this back i feel i may have only made it worse

dreamyalbon HELP WHAT IS GOING ON

⤷ formulasargeant silly season is real

papayaforlife babe wake up there is chaos in the house of commons

yn.ln

liked by oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 134,562 others

yn.ln my favorite human forever. sm love for this boy.

view all 3,452 comments

oscarpiastri 🧡

⤷ piastrination oscar bleeding orange:

norrisnation notice how lando didn’t comment on this post but he ALWAYS comments on yn’s posts?

⤷ landoland HE DIDNT EVEN LIKE IT PLEASE TELL ME THEY ARE STILL FRIENDS PLEASE

rizzciardo ik yall are upset but pls don’t hate on yn, she hasn’t don’t anything wrong and we don’t even know the details of what’s going on with her and lando or her and oscar

sunnylando ‘favorite human forever’ 🫠💔 iykyk

formulanorris YN HOW COULD YOU FUMBLE LANDO

⤷ formulanorris yall are cute but im so confused rn.

landomania this is insane news to me. i genuinely thought the rumors were just rumors 😭

thank you for reading! all feedback is appreciated — dae <3

PART TWO / FIX IT FIC

general taglist | @renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @lokietro @spidersophie @minkyungseokie @harrysdimple05 @stopeatread @topguncultleader @vroomvroomverstappen @motorsp0rt @cixrosie @leclercvsx @arkhammaid @vellicora @lovstappen @illicitverstappen

also, you didn’t hear it from me, but the jpg chronicles finale is coming after this 👀

#✩ . op⁸¹ files 🏎️ #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #formula one smau #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one blurbs #formula one x reader #formula one fic #mclaren formula 1 #f1 angst #lando norris angst #lando norris smau #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #✩ . ln⁴ files 🏎️

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector/reader #marc spector/gn!reader #my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #youtube link

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

*

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

*

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 4

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut

[malum-forev]

Hi, for the bingo thingy, can you use “Can you stay?” for a chapter 3 of the Co-parenting ex husband Bucky fic? 😜🙈 (if you turn that into a sad ending again, I’ll ugly cry. 😅😘)

the wait is finally oveeerrr. I didn't expect to write this but it quickly turned into my favorite piece! Thank you for the love (especially after I wrote two sad parts loooolll)

Here it is! and you can find Pt 1 Here and Pt 2 here!

*Gif by @rainbowkisses31

(Y/n) crossed her arms and leaned her head back on the wall, waiting for the principal’s door to open. She couldn’t believe this, Peanut was in kindergarten for fucks sake! How was the principal already calling her in. A couple of teachers had given (Y/n) a heads up, to control the situation before it exploded. 

So, a week ago (Y/n) and Bucky had to have the talk with their five-year-old daughter. Not the birds and the bees, the whole: Your dad is an ex-assassin called the Winter Soldier, he was actually born in 1917 and the whole vibranium arm thing. 

Bucky sat Peanut in front of them. “P, I’m going to tell you something but you have to pay attention okay?”

Her big blue eyes turned into marbles and she nodded her head. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong baby,” (Y/n) assured. “We just need to talk about something that happened to Daddy because we want you to know it from us okay?”

“Where do I begin?” Bucky sighed, he never thought the most difficult person to explain this to would be a child. His child. Bucky never thought he would be able to have a child in the first place. He felt (Y/n)’s hand rub circles on his back and he relaxed into her touch. 

Bucky had warned her about this, how the Winter Soldier would always shadow him. Looming in the darkness. But (Y/n) had said she didn’t care, that their children together would understand what happened and the rest of the world can process it however they wanted to. And here she was, carrying out her end of the deal. 

“I was born a long time ago Peanut.” Bucky started.

P bursted into laughter. “I know that, silly goose. You have white hair! Like the pictures you show me of Uncle Stevie!”

(Y/n) bit the inside of her cheek to hide her laugh but she ended up having to hide behind Bucky as to not incite their daughter’s roasts.

“This is going well.” Bucky muttered.

“You don’t look like Steve, I promise.” She assured, running her fingers through the short hair on the back of his head. “Plus, I like your hair like this. Salt and pepper suits you.” 

But now, a week later, the two of them were called into the principal’s office. The glass door opened. 

“Good morning, thank you for coming.” He told (Y/n). “Should we wait for Mr. Barnes?”

“He won’t be joining us today.” She said in automatic but as she was walking into the principal’s office, a huffing Bucky came into view.

“Sorry I’m late.” Bucky took a deep breath, taking off his leather jacket and placing it behind one of the two chairs in front of the principal’s desk. He took the chair next to him out for (Y/n) to sit in before sitting down himself. 

“I know the two of you are very busy but this issue with your daughter needs to be fixed.” The principal started. “As you know, we are a very private school and we can assure you we’re talking to Billy’s parents as well.”

“Yesterday, Billy told your daughter that he knew who her father was.” The principal continued, making Bucky look down at the floor. “Billy’s older brother told him and showed him some videos on the internet.”

(Y/n) grew angry. “If this is Billy’s fault, then why are we here. James and I talked to you before P came to this school and you assured us it wouldn’t be a problem. We spend a lot of money on this school for this to suddenly become a problem.”

“The problem is that after this, your daughter threatened Billy. She said,” The principal took a look at the paper in front of him, a teacher’s report. “If you know who my dad is then you know you shouldn’t talk to me like that. When I tell him about you, he will squish you with his metal arm.” 

(Y/n) jaw dropped. Oh my god. 

She turned around to look at Bucky but he didn’t have the reaction she wanted. He sat there with a smug smile on his face and his arms crossed. 

“She’s defending herself.” Bucky shrugged and (Y/n) covered her face with her hands.

“You can’t just say that!” She laughed, they decided to get some coffee after the meeting with P’s principal. 

“Why not?” Bucky smiled. “I’m not going to tell off P just because of that stupid kid Billy who by the way, I would squish with my arm.”

“Good to know you’d turn Winter Soldier at the blink of Peanut’s eyes.” She rolled her eyes. 

“She’s my little girl! What else am I supposed to do?” 

“Something along the lines of: Peanut you can’t threaten people.” (Y/n) said, she didn’t think she would have to be explaining why threatening people is wrong to a hundred-year-old man. 

“I’m not going to tell her not to defend herself.” Bucky said. “She’s gutsy and headstrong, P takes after her mother.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’m not headstrong.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks, taking (Y/n)’s shoulders in his hands and making her look at him. “I didn’t mean it like that, like it’s a bad thing- I love that about you. It was one of the things that drew me into you.” 

A smile developed on (Y/n)’s lips. “Who knew P’s heroic stunt would turn into a compliment shower. Not that I’m complaining.”

Bucky sipped his coffee, tucking her body under his arm and bringing (Y/n) flush to his side. “You want more? Let’s see, you’re insanely witty, you have a beautifully complex mind, you’re extremely hot and you have a thing for older men- which I much appreciate.”

She laughed, burring her face in his chest. It felt so familiar, it felt like home.

- 

It was two am when she heard the shriek. (Y/n) jumped out of bed and opened her bedroom door, trying to find Peanut. The moonlit stairs looked like a crime scene. Blood dripped from step to step all the way to the bottom, where Peanut lay screaming bloody murder.

She raced down the stairs and held her daughter in her arms.

“Mommy it hurts.” Peanut cried, bringing her hand up to a gash on her forehead. 

“I know it hurts baby, I know.” Tears flooded (Y/n)’s eyes but she couldn’t break, not in front of her bleeding daughter. “It’s okay P, I’m going to take you to the hospital okay?”

(Y/n) grabbed the first coat she could find in the closet and the nearest pair of shoes, she rushed to strap P on her car seat and drove to the hospital. 

Ring, ring. 

“Please answer Bucky, please.” (Y/n) had called her ex-husband from the car. 

“Hello?” Bucky’s raspy and sleep filled voice answered.

“Buck?” (Y/n)’s voice cracked, making Bucky sit up straight in bed in a second. “Something’s happened with Peanut, we’re on our way to the hospital.”

“I’ll be there in five.” Was all he said. 

(Y/n) paced outside the room, she could see her daughter sleeping on the white hospital bed through the cracks in the curtains. 

Two hands gripped her shoulders, one cold and one warm, making her eyes shoot up from the floor. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked, peeking into the room. 

“I don’t know what she was trying to do Buck- she got up in the middle of the night and somehow. I don’t know, she fell down the stairs and cut her forehead open.” (Y/n) spoke quickly, like if she processed the words she was speaking she would break. “She said something about wanting to sleep with the doll you brought from Wakanda- I don’t know.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Peanut is fine.” Bucky tried to soothe her. 

(Y/n) clenched her fists at her side and bit her cheek. Anything to stop her from crying. “If I hadn’t forgotten the stupid doll-“

Bucky took her face in his hands. “This was an accident, it’s no one’s fault.”

(Y/n) slowly nodded, trying to blink away the tears. 

Bucky’s eyes furrowed. “Doll, darling, look at me. I’m going to need you to say that. You know it was an accident right?”

“It was an accident.” She whispered, the pain becoming unbearable.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, bringing her as close to him as possible. “You’re okay, everything’s going to be fine. I’m here, I’m here for you, for as long as you want me to be.”

That was it, what she needed to hear to break down. To be vulnerable. To know someone would be there to catch her if she fell. 

(Y/n) sobbed into Bucky’s chest for what felt like hours. And he was there, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering kind words into her ear. 

It was well into the evening the next day when Peanut was finally given the all clear from her doctors. Three stitches and an ankle sprain later, she was tucked into bed. 

“I need you to promise me you will never ever do that again.” Bucky brought the comforter up as he tucked Peanut in. 

“Promise daddy.” She smiled. “You wanna know something cool?”

“What’s that?” Bucky ran his finger against her cheek. 

Peanut sat up and pulled Bucky’s cap sleeve up to his shoulder. “Daddy and P are gonna match.”

Bucky’s eyes swelled with tears as he saw his little girl’s tiny hand rub against the scarred skin on his left shoulder. It was like all the pain and suffering suddenly turned into something good. With six simple words, Peanut made everything worth it.

“We sure are.” Bucky lips turned upwards. 

“She looks so peaceful, you wouldn’t imagine she’s a little tornado once those pretty eyes open.” Bucky chuckled lightly as he closed his daughter’s bedroom door. 

“We’ve been amazing parents for the past 24 hours, could I interest you in a glass of cheap wine that will definitely give us a headache tomorrow?” (Y/n) smiled. 

“You read my mind.” Bucky leaned his head back with closed eyes, he grabbed the baby monitor from the hallway credenza. “How about you go outside and I’ll bring everything out. You deserve a break.”

And what a break he gave (Y/n). Bucky just about held the glass of wine to her lips. He brought out the drinks, some snacks and started by bringing her legs closer to him. Massaging her tired calves. 

“I still remember when we bought the house.” Bucky hummed. “And now it’s been what- six years?”

“Do you remember when we wanted to buy that new build? Everything was so white and sterile.” (Y/n) laughed. “But as soon as I found this house, I knew it was the one.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky laughed, eyebrows raised. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who found the house. You were sad thinking we hadn’t found a home, and I was the one who begged you to come and see it.”

(Y/n)’s happy smile dimmed. “We were so happy when we first moved in, what happened?”

“I took you for granted.” Bucky sighed. “That’s what happened.”

“After Steve left, I think I just stopped wanting anything. Work seemed boring, life at home was scary, taking care of P was terrifying for me. For years I thought I would be alone in this world and then suddenly, you came and gave me more love than I deserved. Gave me a beautiful daughter.” Bucky opened his heart. “And instead of working on myself I decided to just stop, stop trying. And it was selfish of me to think that you would just ride along with me even though I did everything to push you away. I never wanted you to think I didn’t love you, God do I love you. Sometimes I’m truly scared of what I feel because I love you so much it hurts. It pains me to have had you and lost you.”

Bucky tried to get out a strong voice but it cracked. “And I’ll live the rest of my life loving you and regretting having lost you. Sometimes, I think it’s a form of Karma. Like the gods above don’t know every wrong thing I did wasn’t me so now I have to live with this deep regret. The kind that settles into your bones.”

“Buck-“ (Y/n) tried to comfort him.

“No,” He shook his head. “you’re too sweet for your own good and you’ll try and tell me it’s not my fault. But it is. I’m not telling you this so you have pity on me, I just want you to know that I fucked up. You were perfect and amazing and I didn’t know what to do with something so delicate.”

“And I’m saying this just so you know that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always love you.” 

(Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore. She crashed her lips onto his. A kiss that would explain everything she felt. All the anger, all the sadness and especially all the love. A kiss that says: I love you too.

She rested her forehead against his, her breath shallow. “Can you stay?”

“Stay tonight?” He asked, his voice pained. 

“Please stay forever.” She whispered. 

Thank you thank you sooo much for the love! Hope you guys like it, if you do remember to like reblog and comment! I'll love you forever if you do &lt;3

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour @aimeekatee @learisa @deadspeed @happinessinthebeing @multitargaryen @ajordan2020 @almosttoopizza @empollito @jbbarnesgirl. @uniquecroissant @mavrellover91 @angstysebfan @buckswhore-com @coffeebooksandfandom @azenpal @stanofmanythingslol @msknb-blog @intrepidacious @ladyloki3 @buck-fics @honeyglee @vileepponine @sebstanwhore @helium-queen @lokislady82 @crazygirlinthisworld @superforgottensoul @bibbidibobbidibucky @mdc-203081 @soobin-my-beloved @w1nter-wolf-barnes1 @jbbarnesgirl @redbloodedgurl

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

#bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes os #college au #college au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

[leclsrc]

masterlist

writing for charles, carlos, max, & mick (subject to change)

minors dni. everything can be found here ↓

✳︎ fics, long

charles leclerc...

blurred lines (18+)

Things with Charles finally come to a head. In a cramped room. In the Red Bull garage. Of all places, really.

see it through

You go from social media manager to girlfriend in under a day. Keeping up appearances for Charles’ family isn’t easy, until it is – and until they’re not really appearances anymore.

sweet pea

You finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

stay, at least for breakfast

You love once and miss always.

you know it (18+)

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

wait and see

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

low down (18+)

A lot can happen under an hour. You and Charles, self-proclaimed pros at sneaking around, can attest to this.

it's never over (18+)

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

team effort ft. carlos sainz (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

like you should

If you don’t learn from history, it’ll stick around and find a way to repeat itself – even if the history is with your boyfriend’s rival, and its repetition happens behind his back.

max verstappen...

low life (18+)

You really don’t like Max Verstappen. What you’re doing in his hotel room is a separate issue.

↳ part 2, reciprocate (18+)

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together.

mick schumacher...

mr. nice guy (18+)

Mick Schumacher is the paddock’s golden boy. He likes upholding this reputation, but there’s something nagging at him lately that makes it... difficult.

carlos sainz...

a certain romance

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

has yet to pass

Four years after an angry breakup, the universe is bored enough to nominate Carlos Sainz for GQ Sports’ Man of the Year and assign you to be the writer of his profile.

team effort ft. charles leclerc (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

do you want it? (18+)

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

✳︎ drabbles

charles leclerc...

forever ago

↳ part 2, fin de siècle

motorsport ft. carlos sainz (18+)

everyone adores you

all my trying

the moment divine

words unspoken

things lovers do

something

overly sincere

the final frame

keep a place for me

honeymooning

proving my devotion

main dans la main

misspelled (dad charles)

presents

felt the rush (18+, sainz reader)

my own doing (18+)

olive you

divine sense

first words (dad charles)

take a chance on me

say it all

test run

guessing game

intertwined

name calling (wolff reader)

what you know

max verstappen...

self professed

carlos sainz...

silver lining

motorsport ft. charles leclerc (18+)

kissy spells

saving grace

need some patience (18+)

what i feel for you

brought me here

↳ part 2, kind of love

i knew you

guessing game

in my dream

mick schumacher...

you’ve been waiting (18+)

hold my hand

✳︎ instagram aus

charles leclerc...

is that you?

at sea

say cheese

good luck

ahead

#ItGirl

cutie

archived

↳ part 2, what once was

↳ part 3, mardy bum

spill the tea

deleted

maneater

kazoo'd

carlos sainz...

national holiday

tiktoked

↳ part 2, sneaky

↳ part 3, upgrades

max verstappen...

no clue

mick schumacher...

secret

✳︎ etc

auds’ recs tag

auds ask game

celebrating 1k, 2k, and 3k :)

#navi #mlist

[jamneuromain]

Hey honey! I'm loving your bingo challenge<3

So I want to send in a request for Steve Rogers for the prompt 'ugly duckling'

So basically Steve meeting readers family and friends, and the running joke is how reader bagged an Greek god looking man like him despite being not so pretty. He soon understands why reader was first hesitant and a bit surprised when he asked them out. But Steve takes a stand for them in front of everyone and call them out on their behaviour and all the fluff! Please feel free to change anything you like or ignore the request if it's not worth it! Thank you so much! I love your fics💙

Hi hon <3

I feel so much about the "ugly duckling" so I added a little bit of "horrible family actions" that I've seen. I hope you'll enjoy this!

Make an Impression

Steve Rogers x You

Warning: Ugly Duckling, shaming from all aspects, bad language word(?)

Summary: Steve was nervous about meeting your family - your larger family, that is.

A/N: My eighth entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

"What if they don't like me?" Steve whispered in horror as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"They will love you." You stood on the tip of your toes and kissed his cheek, "Seriously, my mom thought I'd be single for life. So she is already way beyond happy that I'd be taking someone home for this traditional festival."

Steve mumbled a "yeah", before turning to you, "I really want to make a good impression." He almost knotted his brows into a bun, "Any tips on how to be the best boyfriend?"

"You are the best boyfriend there is." You help flipping his collar in place. He was so nervous about meeting your family that he tried on five different ties for over a dozen times, leaving his collar a mess, "You'd be helping out... I think. And you definitely do not need a tie to suffocate yourself when you're helping out. They will love you." You emphasized the idea that your family would welcome him one more time, shrugging, "Just try not to answer any questions when my aunties and my grandma ask you about 'when are we having kids'."

"Kids?" Unfiltered panic filled his eyes.

"Um-hmm." You fiddled with the hem of his shirt, tucking it in place, "I know, we aren't even planning anything yet. Still, they love to do that. They'd be scheming when we're having our fifth kid with or without our help."

Steve swears he is sweating like a fountain.

"Smile. Tell them we're enjoying our solidarity. And you will be fine." You threw him a sympathetic look, "Tell them about your military stories. That would distract them enough."

You hoped your boyfriend would survive under your ruthless (or so you believe) aunties.

"C'mon. Mom said we should be there by 11 to help her cook lunch." You kissed his cheek again, "You'll do fine."

"Not quite sure about that." Steve muttered. If confidence could be measured from 1 to 10, he'd be negative a hundred by now.

You thought your aunties - your father's sisters - would be hogging Steve until he was going to have a panic attack, asking about your relationship or about his family three generations ago. But within an hour, you heard that he was able to make all of your aunties laugh with joy by telling some interesting stories in the barracks, while your mother kept you in the kitchen to help her around.

Help with cleaning. Not cooking.

After an hour and a half, your grandmother pulled an ancient photo book out of nowhere and started to show him your baby photos.

With pots of traditional dishes simmering over the stove, you were finally able to get a break from your mother's accusations of "not practicing homemaking" and escape to your boyfriend.

At which point, the photo album was only about one-quarter through, and your aunties had just started the chapter where you were 4 or 5.

"...now this." Your grandma chuckled and shook her head, "This was precious. She has always been the not-so-good-looking one among my grandkids. Hasn't changed about that. See her skin? And the hair? Her cousins tried almost everything to help her look better."

Yes. By "help" she meant that your cousins, who were not that older than you, shoved you around like a doll, pinning all their least-favorite hair bands and hair pins onto your head, and giving you ridiculous "make-overs".

The kind of "make-over" some 6-year-olds could achieve.

While your male cousins ignored you.

Some of them still did.

You didn't mind.

Your family isn't exactly the tightest bun in the world. You tried avoiding them until important family-gathering activities such as this one. Because they would criticize everything from your clothing to your work. And probably also tell your boyfriend that you are not that good.

"And what are you wearing?" One of your aunties eyed you disapprovingly, gasping as if she had just seen you. Even though you have been helping cleaning and cooking for at least sixty minutes, "Sweetie, your ass is going to rip your jeans. Why not sportspants? They are definitely more comfy. Could help cover your thick thighs too. Honestly, how you are able to date... him-" She gestured at Steve, "is baffling."

"That hair..." Another auntie tutted as loud as she could, "So messy, my dear. Have you tried conditioner? My boy brought back a bottle of L'OREAL conditioner from Paris and it has been working wonders. "

Third auntie chirped up helpfully, "Must have been that awful job, cutie pie. I told you that you should be working closer to home, not driving three hours to see your family. That incompetent husband of mine recently opened up a factory and we'd be happy to arrange a desk job for you. Smaller pay, but closer to home. What could a ton of money do anyway if you can't see your family every week-"

That's enough bullshit for you for a day. You'd rather drown yourself with mud than listen to them criticize from head to toe.

"I think that's my phone." You forced a smile, getting up as fast as you could, "I'm gonna go check."

"See, I told you a busy job can do you no good..." One of your aunties yelled behind your back, before gossiping in a low voice with others.

What you didn't see (or hear, for that matter) is that Steve apologized swiftly, leaving the couch and following you.

Eight months ago

Steve accompanied Bucky to his graduation ceremony that day. Being around the same age, they chose a path in the military at the start, though Bucky had a severe injury to his left arm and had to leave the sergeant program after only a few months. After some rehabilitation and trying a handful of jobs, Bucky decided to head back to university and study criminal law in order to become a police officer, or a district attorney if he's not fit for police work anymore.

Steve, on the other hand, was luckier. He stayed in the sergeant program and got assigned to the States right before Bucky's graduation. After three tours and a surgery to collect bomb shells from his leg, the Army decided he could be a drill sergeant on the New Jersey Base, responsible for training new recruits before shipping them overseas.

Anyhow, Steve pulled Bucky into a big hug when the ceremony was over. He whistled and nearly clapped his hand numb as Bucky beamed at him in a black graduate gown.

"I guess I'm the smarter one of us now." Bucky smiled coyly, punching Steve in the chest, "And the luckier one too." As he fished a cute girl in gown by her wrist and introduced her, "This is my girlfriend Wendy. Wendy Stone. Wendy, Steve."

She reached out shyly to shake his hand, "Hi Steve. I've heard a lot about you."

And as if Bucky was the magnet, attaching people like coins in a line, you slipped through the crowd patting Wendy on her shoulder, "Your phone. You almost forgot - Hi Bucky, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Bucky's palm flew to his forehead, gasping out in shock, "Damn. I haven't introduced you two yet. Steve, this is Y/N, Wendy's cousin. Y/N, this is my best pal Steve."

Five months ago

You had hung out with Steve a couple of times, but only in the presence of Bucky and Wendy. Wendy and you shared the same apartment, so it was nearly inevitable for Steve to bump into you when looking for Bucky, or Bucky asking both of you to join Game Night for you four to know each other well.

Steve grew fonder of you, nonetheless. He loves the laughter whenever you hear a silly joke; he loves the way you make a face to him whenever Bucky and Wendy getting all gooey and clingy, making both of you feel like the third and fourth wheel; he loves your optimistic and can-do attitude, whether it was Wendy having a bad day at work, or when the pipe burst in your apartment.

Before he opened his mouth that day, sharing a pot of coffee with Bucky during the quiet morning of a Sunday. Bucky cut him off, saying Steve's line, "You should ask her out."

"You think I should?" He gulped nervously, counting the larger bubbles on his coffee.

"Dude, why do you think I've asked you on these game nights stuff?" Bucky snorted into his mug, "You practically glued your eyes to her the day you met. It's hard not to notice."

"Thanks...?"

"Don't thank me yet, punk. I've asked Wendy about her. She's one tough-" Bucky paused before continuing, mulling over the semantics, "Is it degrading to say son-of-a-bitch? Because Wendy said the exact same words. Anyway, according to Wendy, she doesn't really date a lot. And her work is crazy as hell. Plus, they came from the same family, cousins from their mother's side. They are a hard-to-please bunch of people, and Wendy heard that her father's side was even worse."

Steve didn't really take the last line into consideration back then. Still, asking you out was one hell of a mission, worse than the tour he had in the middle of some desert. It took some persuasion and some more coaxing ("good-measured coaxing", Bucky insisted) to get you on the first three dates. But from that point forth, everything has run smoothly, until now.

"You alright?" Steve closed the door behind him. Your tiny room seems smaller with his broad shoulders larger than the door frame.

"Yeah." That's a lie. "Another few hours and we'll be left alone." You swept away the invisible dust on your jeans, murmuring.

That's why you don't like your relatives. The smell of grease and tobacco rose from the backyard where the men were drinking and smoking, more revolting than the way you remembered.

Steve pursed his lips tightly into a line, "Are they always like this?"

You huffed out an unamused laugh, "At least we were related. You should have seen how they treated my mom."

"That's why she's in the kitchen?"

An unimpressed glare threw in his direction, "She enjoyed that, believe it or not. Cooking and cleaning and homemaking." Raising your chin towards the kitchen, "Blamed me about 'not doing my part' just now."

"Why don't you-"

"Stand up against them?" You knew what he meant. You did. You tried. But they would always accuse your mother of not "teaching you properly".

"They are bullies, Steve." You shrugged, pretending that it didn't bother you at all, "They'd do anything to make sure we get all those nasty comments. And the moment any one of us stand up against them, they'd ask my parents to force me to apologize."

Steve crossed his arms, furrowing his brows again.

"Look, my mom is ... old-school. So are all of them. She nags a lot but she'd be sad if I'm not here to support her during this family reunion. But reunion means all of them, so..." You held his wrist, resting your head on his shoulder, "family comes first."

He took you into his arms, landing a kiss on your forehead.

You craned your neck to smile sweetly at him, as if nothing had happened, "Let's get back to the living room before they mock me for being a baby about it."

Surprisingly, for one full hour, they weren't able to make a comment about you - plenty of comments about Steve since your three cousins had arrived. More comments about your cousins. Gossips about their neighbors. Judgements thrown around on their men and your mother's cooking.

"... your daughter better have clarity on herself." Your grandmother pointed at your mother, drunk on her third cup of wine, her words slurring, "Steven....s Steve, here, is way out of her league. And she needs to maaaarry him before some s... ska... skank butts in."

Your mother eyed you, mouthing silently, asking you to eat rather than reply, before coming up with a polite smile, "Of course. But young people have their own opinions on marriage, and I suppose it's only fair that they figure it out themselves."

One of your aunts waved her fork too hard, sending a piece of chicken into the air, "Oops. Ma's right. And you need to have a kid soon, sweetie. Marry him, and have a kid. Your body is a ticking clock. Don't turn deaf towards it."

"I'm surprised you were able to get a boyfriend, let alone... this." Another aunt gestured at Steve, "You've never been the pretty one, cutie pie, and you sure ain't now."

You put your hand on Steve's thigh to calm him. You could feel his muscles tensing and his jaw clenching, not so subtly. You shook your head lightly.

Don't give them what they want. You hoped you were able to convey the message.

"Oh my oh my," the last aunt chuckled, "we are not going to witness some cheesy scheme of renting a boyfriend here, are we? I heard from my daughter Jean that it's quite popular these days. You know, it's not that embarrassing not to have a boyfriend, I mean, we all thought that way-"

Jean, being one of your cousins sitting by the table, chose to munch her food in silence rather than responding to your aunt.

"That's enough." Steve placed his napkin on the table, folded it back into a triangle before he spoke, "All of you." His rigid tone from the military days seeped into his voice, having the conversations on the table stop for the moment. Taking your hand beneath the table, he watched every person on the table with a serious expression, "Our relationship is none of your business, and so is her appearance. I see a beautiful, strong, independent woman, and I pity you for none of you were able to see her the way I do. Because you were so focused on yourselves, comparing everything about you to make you feel less pathetic. "

A brief pause.

"You didn't say anything about your daughter owning a clothing store, inherited from you, that barely gets by." He looked at the aunt who called you "fat".

"No one said anything about your son stuffing potato chips in his mouth and being unemployed, still taking expensive trips with your pension, because he's the son in the family." He points at the aunt who called you "cheap".

"And finally, you know damn well that husband of yours is having his third secretary-mistress. Since that's all the rest of you could hint about this afternoon." He directed at the aunt who thought you weren't "homemaker" enough.

"I hope you'll have the day you deserve." He spat out, standing from the table, asking for your hand.

For the first time today, your eyes sparkled with light. Gladly taking his hand, your rose from the table. Not minding if you have shoved your chair backwards too hard or the sudden movement is not "lady" enough.

"Mom, I'll come visit next week. Promise." A big smile raised the corner of your lips, waving your mother goodbye while the rest of the table watched in silence.

You still had trouble believing this when you got in your car. Steve immediately pulled you into a hug, nudging your neck with his cheek.

"Not so scared about 'impressing' my family now, huh?" You joked, tugging the end of his blonde hair lightly.

"They're going to hate me and you after I dumped every scandal on them." He mumbled apologetically, "Sorry, I hate bullies."

"No." You signed, "I should've be braver and just ... cut them off."

"You did the best you could." He kissed your shoulder gently, looking into your eyes, "You are everything I've dreamed of, and I meant everything I said at the dining table. You are incredible."

"Hold your proposal, Rogers." You teased him, seeing his ears turn into beet-red as you mentioned "proposal", poking his chest with your index finger, "You aren't on your knees yet and I'm not having five babies without five carats."

Steve's face flushed with a shade of pink, looking like a total turnip if it wasn't for his blonde hair. "Five babies???" He gulped, and then, "Does that mean we're having ten babies if I buy a ten-carat now?"

It was your turn to be stunned speechless. Only when he was grinning madly did you realize he was messing with you too. Laughing with tears, you fell into his embrace, "Steven Grant Rogers, you are a horrible person."

A few laughs bubbled from his chest as you leaned back in your seat and buckled your seat belt, "You'll get used to it." He started the engine and changed the subject, "I didn't have much food in your house. Mind if we stop by at the new Burger joint and order something?"

"I almost forgot how awful my mom's cooking is." You set your phone on navigation mode and put it on Bluetooth speaker, chuckling, "I'm starving. Let's go."

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #jnmanswers #inbox <3 #writing challenge #the slumber party writing challenge

[iamred-iamyellow]

Lalisa Love Me

♥ pairing: lalisa manoban x fem!rb!driver

♥ smau 

♥ content: fluff <3 

♥ notes: I’m an f1 loving american lesbian blink so when lisa wove the checkered flag in miami  I knew I had to write this. This is also my first posted fic :)

liked by lalalalisa_m, blackpinkofficial, and 706,435 more 

Blackpink in your area - tagged blackpinkoffical 

user12 SHE’S A BLINK?! 

 yourusername 🩷🖤   user4 the crossover we never knew we needed 

landonorris where was my invite? 

yourusername must’ve got lost in the mail :/   landonorris …

user5 my worlds are colliding 

lilymhe bring me next 

yourusername I WILL DW  alex_albon I see how it is yourusername GIRLS NIGHT IDEA - us and the wags go to their LA concert francisca.cgomes I’ll be there 

roses_are_rosie hope we see you again! 

    yourusername <3 

user7 already writing fanfiction 

   user3 new character unlocked     user5 she’s gonna show up at Jackson Wang’s party just wait 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 416,587

COACHELLA ☀️ - tagged lalalalisa_m

yourusername you guys killed it btw

*liked by lalalalisa_m*

user6 the amount of lisa pictures-

user10 its almost like she was there just for her user6 she probably was ngl I'd be there just for Lisa too

user14 They are both MOTHER

user17 Lisa x y/n was NOT on my 2023 bingo card

landonorris I am once again asking for blackpink tickets

user10 PLEASE hsndnksjs user7 he's so real for that yourusername @ landonorris get your own tickets

user5 Lisa 🛐

yourusername i agree. user5 wait what user8 aaaand screenshoted user7 my new wallpaper

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, lalalalisa_m, and 827,942 more

Congrats World Champ <3 You drove one hell of a year.

maxverstappen1 you drove amazing yourself. p2 overall is great, especially in your second season

*liked by yourusername*

user1 lisa liked this post btw

user3 they're literally canon at this point user7 WHEN WILL OUR MOTHERS GET TOGETHER?

yourusername looking forward to a (hopefully) next season win

user5 congrats girly

user7 literally crying at lisa liking this post

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by yourusername, sooyaaa_, and 743,078

See You Soon <3

user17 ??? CONTEXT ???

user2 Don't be shy, tell us who

user7 the car pic...? liked by y/n....?

user1 I SEE THE VISION user4 *me waiting for a lisa x y/n relationship megathread*

user8 unrelated but she looks stunning

user9 posted the DAY OF f1 winter break. not a coincidence.

user3 my otp

user12 I ship so hard

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by yourusername, jennierubyjane, and 506,902 more 

Waving the flag - tagged yourusername and redbullracing 

yourusername so glad you're here

     lalalalisa_m <3 

user3 the picture in the middle hello??? 

   landonorris so @ yourusername lied about being sick last week?     yourusername yes and I’d do it again    landonorris the betrayal     yourusername you’ll live 

jennierubyjane good luck! 

   yourusername thanks jen <3

user2 NEED more lisa x y/n content 

    user7 on it 🫡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

liked by redbullracing, yourusername, and 650,432 more

P3! That's my girl 🍾 - tagged yourusername

lilymhe love you both

*liked by lalalalisa_m and yourusername*

user16 lets goo p3

user7 "my girl" sorry- MY GIRL?

user4 hey siri, play we fell in love in october

user12 honorary wag

liked by roses_are_rosie, landonorris, and 1,034,607 more

Say Lalisa Love Me - tagged lalalalisa_m

landonorris FINALLY

yourusername love the enthusiasm landonorris we've been waiting for over a year alex_albon he's right

user5 OKAY PEOPLE IT'S HAPPENING. EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM

user7 our fanfics came ture

user2 Jackson Wang's parties never disappoint.

user12 SCREAMING CRYING KICKING MY FEET

user3 "lisa I'm gay for you" same

user7 she's so real for that

user1 let's go lesbians let's go

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(end notes: I literally skipped my eng essay just for this lmao. this is for a pretty niche audience but I hope ya'll enjoyed it <3 idk if I'ma post more fics here but I might! thanks for reading.

*NONE of the pictures are mine. All were found on Pinterest. Special shoutout to whoever had that "Lisa I'm gay for you" sign because that's so real*)

#fanfic #fanfiction #smau #crossover #crossover fanfiction #kpop smau #kpop fanfic #lisa x reader #lalisa manoban #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #wlw fiction #sapphic #wlw #miami gp 2024

[laurenairay]

you've been sent to save me - N. MacKinnon

Summary: what’s meant to be will always find a way.

Rachel Summers can’t stand Nathan MacKinnon. But when a mutual friend’s wedding pulls them together, will anything change?

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: some angst, some bad language

A/N: Here is my fic for @fallinallincurls birthday bingo! I chose wedding season/dates, forced proximity, meddling best friend, and invisible string theory. This was a lot of fun to write (and I can't believe I've never written a full fic for Nate before!), so I hope you enjoy it Bre! Sorry it's a bit late!

Title from always been you, by Shawn Mendes.

~

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate.

~

June 2023

“There’s just one more thing.”

“Oh?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nate’s going to be a groomsman.”

Rachel immediately groaned, tilting her head backwards. A little dramatic perhaps but for Nathan MacKinnon? It was justified. She’d been over the moon when her childhood friend had asked her to be a bridesmaid for her wedding next summer, but now knowing that Nathan was going to be in the wedding party too?

“It’s bad enough that I can’t avoid that grumpy smirky fucker whenever he’s back for the summer, but now I can’t even avoid him for the happiest day of your life?”

“It really will be the happiest day of my life, won’t it?” she sighed happily.

“Angie, focus,” Rachel snapped, unable to stop herself from huffing out a laugh. She wanted to stay mad at her friend, but it was hard with the dreamy look on her face.

Angela just giggled. “Look, Brad has been friends with him for years, you know that. And I can’t change that – I’m sure it’ll be fine?”

“Angie!” Rachel whined.

She just laughed harder. “Rach, I will make sure he won’t act like an ass. I promise!”

“I’ll believe that the day I see it.”

~

June 2024

It was finally time for Angela’s wedding. After a full year of planning – helping choose the bridesmaid dresses, the hair and make-up trials, the hen do itself, spending her weekends making table decorations – the fateful weekend had finally arrived. Rachel had been given the option to travel up a couple of days early ahead of the wedding ceremony on the Saturday, so she’d eagerly booked the time off work, and was travelling to Inverary Resort bright and early on the Thursday morning. Rachel was ready to settle in and relax with the rest of the bridal party, all friends over the years from Cole Harbour, to celebrate one of her oldest friends marrying the love of her life.

What could possibly go wrong?

After 3 and a half hours of driving, Rachel was ready to kick her shoes off and pick up a cocktail, and as she spotted Angela running happily out of the main building towards her as she parked her car, she found a smile spreading across her face. This weekend was going to be amazing, she just knew it.

“You made it! How was the journey? We got in a few hours ago and it was fine for us – was it still okay for you?”

Rachel just grinned at her friend’s happy rambling, throwing her shoulder-length dark waves up into a basic ponytail before grabbing her bags out of her backseat. Thankfully the transportation of the bridesmaid dresses – a gorgeous olive green that suited Rachel’s dark hair and tanned skin perfectly -  were taken care of by Angela’s mom so she hadn’t had to worry about creasing that.

The two of them caught up as Angela walked her through the main lobby of the resort, picking up Rachel’s room key as well as a glass of complimentary prosecco. Rachel tried not to get too wide-eyed over the beauty of the venue, but it was hard not to gawp. The views alone were amazing, and she wasn’t even on the water’s edge yet. From what she understood, for the accommodation on site there was a main lodge with the majority of rooms, as well as whole bunch of individual cottages. Rachel had chosen to stay in the main lodge, as a single guest, so at least she didn’t have to walk far with her luggage.

“Alright, here you are. There are a few other guests already here so get settled and then come downstairs to meet us for drinks. It’s just a chilled day today, touring the grounds and relaxing really, with a dinner tonight at the Lakeside restaurant,” Angela explained, “I’ll see you soon?”

“You got it,” Rachel grinned.

Angela’s enthusiasm was infectious at the very least, and Rachel could feel herself buzzing as she unpacked her bags. She couldn’t wait explore the grounds of the resort – and she was more than ready for the spa morning tomorrow in the Glasgow house cottage that Rachel had set up for the bride’s party – but first, drinks.

After freshening up with a spritz of perfume and a swipe of lipgloss, Rachel left her room, phone and room key in hand.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

No fucking way.

Rachel turned her head to see the last person she wanted to see standing two doors down from her with a suitcase at his side. He must’ve just arrived. It was just her luck that his room was so close to hers – Angela had better not had a hand in that – as always during the summers when he was home, it was like she couldn’t escape him. Nathan MacKinnon was everywhere.

“Look what the cat coughed up,” Rachel shot back, fake smile at full capacity.

Nate just snorted, rolling his eyes. “Aww don’t front, Rach, you know you missed me.”

“Like a thorn in my foot,” she said dryly, “And don’t call me Rach.”

Rach was for friends only. And Nate was no friend.

Nate held his hands up in surrender with a snicker, finally unlocking his room door.

“If you find yourself lonely in the middle of the night, you know where to find me,” Nate smirked.

“Eurgh, in your dreams,” she grimaced.

“Yes, frequently.”

No. Just no. The audacity.

Rachel gagged dramatically, hamming up the noises, and to her surprise Nate burst out into laughter, leaning against the doorframe as his face scrunched. That had to be the first time he’d laughed so genuinely with just her. She hated the way it made her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Oh man, I needed that,” Nate grinned, still chuckling, “I’ll see you down at the lounge bar?”

More bewildered than anything else, Rachel just nodded. “Yeah, see you.”

What the hell was that?

~

Angela’s plans for the spa morning on the Friday couldn’t have been more perfect, if for nothing else than to clear Rachel’s mind. Over the space of 4 hours, Rachel (plus the other three bridesmaids, Angela, Angela’s mom, and Angela’s soon-to-be mother-in-law) got a manicure, pedicure, and a facial, on top of full use of the sauna and pool. It was exactly what Rachel needed to wind down from her work week (and the weirdness with Nate yesterday) and relax ahead of the big wedding day tomorrow. By the happy glow on the bridal party’s faces, everyone else agreed.

After a light lunch, the full wedding party met up in the main lodge, ready for a rehearsal. Angela and Brad had wanted a full walkthrough of the running order, timings, and placements of the day, just so they were prepared, which Rachel wasn’t going to complain about in the slightest. It could never hurt to be ready.

Not even Nate’s irritating grin as he stood next to her, continuously nudging her with his shoulder, could ruin her peace.

“So, in terms of who will be walking who down the aisle, we’ve paired the groomsmen and bridesmaids up already.”

As the four pairings were called out, Rachel’s stomach sank. She was walking down the aisle with Nathan MacKinnon. Of course she was. So much for peace. This had Angela written all over it, the meddling wench.

“Rach, I-”

“Don’t even say a word to me right now, you giant potato,” Rachel hissed under her voice.

Nate choked out a laugh, leaving Rachel to make her face blank and calmly walk towards the other bridesmaids. Angela’s expression was all but begging her not to cause a scene. Like she would cause something as inelegant as a scene. No, she would wait until there was a moment to pull Angela aside because what the hell was she thinking?

“What the fuck, Angie?”

“Hi Angie, you look incredible Angie, thanks for planning everything ahead of your wedding tomorrow Angie.”

Rachel pursed her lips, hands on hips, but Angie just shrugged, an amused smile on her face. The two of them were in a little alcove in the main lodge, completely hidden from view even though everyone had gone their separate ways, so Rachel didn’t bother to hide her displeasure in her body language.

“I don’t know what you want me to say? The two of you are paired together to walk for all of two minutes. You can handle it,” Angie mused.

“Why him? You could’ve paired me with literally anyone else,” Rachel groaned.

“True, I could’ve, but it’s done now. Besides the two of you could use a little time to be friendly. Or, you know. Friendly.”

Bleurgh. Absolutely not.

“You are the worst and I don’t know why we’re friends,” Rachel grimaced.

“At this point, Stockholm Syndrome?” Angela beamed.

Rachel couldn’t help but to crack a grin, Angela just giggling at her victory.

“It’s two minutes, you will survive it. The two of you will look good together at least...”

What?

They were complete opposites – Nate was blonde, blue eyed, beefy and pale. Rachel was dark-haired, dark-eyed, slim and tan.

What?

“…and Nate’s obsessed with you anyway.”

“Ew, no, he’s not obsessed with me,” Rachel said, sneering slightly.

“No? With everyone else, he’s awkward and dorky. But with you, he’s laser focused. I wonder why,” she said, finishing with an innocent smile.

“Oh gee lucky me! I don’t know, because he’s an ass?” Rachel scowled.

“No, because Nathan MacKinnon’s flirting never matured past pulling pigtails on the school playground,” Angela shot back.

What?

“He’s not flirting,” Rachel scoffed.

Angela paused for a second, gazing over Rachel as if she was trying to figure something out, before she laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, Brad’s going to lose his mind when I tell him. You really can’t see it, can you?”

“See what?”

Rachel didn’t know what her face was doing to reflect her defensive words, but Angela held her hands up in surrender.

“Just take a step back and look at everything. He wants your attention solely on him and this is the only way that’s been successful in catching it. For twenty years – and you know it. Watch him with other people. Watch him with other women. He’s flirting with you, Rach. Just think about it.”

~

Watch him with other people.

Watch him with other women.

He’s flirting with you, Rach.

Just think about it.

Angela’s words swirled around Rachel’s head all through the rest of the day, and it was all she could do to follow her friend’s advice. She watched Nate, all through dinner and the drinks afterwards. She watched how Nate was beaming and friendly with Brad and their Cole Harbour buddies. She watched how Nate was bland and polite with women that flirted with him at the bar. She watched how Nate watched her when men approached her, always catching him looking at her, eyes intense and hot. Why did Angela have to put those seeds of doubt in her head? Why did she have to do it now, the night before the wedding, when there was so much else to think about?

Why did she have to be right?

Nate was so different with her than anyone else, even people they’d known all their lives, and it was completely turning everything she’d ever thought about him on its head. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t need this, not right now. It wasn’t fair.

The wedding day came with no further clarification for her thoughts, her head in full turmoil, and it took all of Rachel’s concentration and willpower to focus on being the best bridesmaid she could be. Angela wasn’t even aware of the way she’d swept the rug out from underneath Rachel’s feet, which was probably for the best if she was being honest, so Rachel just let herself get swept up in the excitement of all the bridal party getting ready together, hair and make-up and dresses and happy tears, all of them looking gorgeous by the end of it – Angela most of all.

As the time came for them to walk down the aisle, Rachel’s nerves were in tatters.

“Rachel Summers, damn. You clean up well,” Nate murmured.

She ignored the shiver his words sent down her spine.

“Bite me MacKinnon.”

He immediately raised an eyebrow, eyes assessing her.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, frowning.

Of course he noticed. Of course.

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth, plastering a smile on her face.

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“Gold star for you.”

It felt like an automatic defence to slip into their usual banter, Nate just huffed out a laugh, smirking slightly, all of it serving only to make her feel unsteady. How the hell had she missed this for so long? How easy their connection was? How his bitching was actually…flirting?

“Alright princess, let’s go celebrate our friends,” he mused.

As Nate stuck out his elbow, Rachel inhaled shakily but didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into the crook of his arm. Even through the jacket, she could feel the warmth of his body, the thickness of his bicep, and all she could do was try to keep a straight face, to not let anyone see how the simple touch was making her head spin. What the fuck was happening to her?

They walked in silence, in perfection symmetry, Nate sending her a small smile as they separated at the altar, and it wasn’t until the wedding march music started, signalling Angela’s imminent arrival, that she realised she was lost in thought. She needed to pull herself together, and quickly.

Rachel locked her eyes on Angela and Brad all through the ceremony, letting their happy smiles and obvious love for each other fill her mind, a smile of her own easy on her face. This was Angela’s day, that’s all she had to focus on. That’s all she needed. Still, in the drinks reception and through the sit-down meal, Rachel found her eyes drawn back to Nate, the two of them seated at the same table (of course, albeit not next to each other so her gaze was able to float over him without looking too obvious.

Just as the night before, the way he smiled at other guests versus how he smiled at her was completely different, and she was just glad for the prosecco nearby. She was going to need it to get through this night, she knew that much. As the speeches went on and the food was served, she felt herself getting more and more overwhelmed, feeling more and more stupid for how much Angela’s revelations were affecting her. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? It’s not like it was going to change anything, right? She’d get through the wedding reception and go back home tomorrow morning and avoid Nate until he left for Colorado next month. It was totally doable. It was a great plan. It was-

“And now, please join us on the dance floor for the bride and groom’s first dance!”

Fuck.

Rachel moved on autopilot, standing to the side of the semi-circle of guests as Angela and Brad walked into the middle of the floor. Just as the music started, she felt a familiar body moving to stand next to her, and she wasn’t able to hold back the shaky breath escaping her mouth, the softest whimper only audible to him.

“What’s wrong?”

You're the light, you're the night, You're the colour of my blood, You're the cure, you're the pain, You're the only thing I wanna touch, Never knew that it could mean so much, so much.

“Hey, Rachel, are you okay?”

You're the fear, I don't care, 'Cause I've never been so high, Follow me to the dark, Let me take you past our satellites, You can see the world you brought to life, to life.

“Rach. Rachel. Seriously, you’re worrying me.”

So love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Touch me like you do, ta-ta-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

She was worrying him? Rachel glanced up at Nate as Ellie Goulding’s voice continued to fill the barn, and the soft look in his eyes just about broke her. It was all she could do to inhale sharply and shake her head.

“No, I’m not okay. I need to get some air. I need to get out of here.”

Nate’s soft expression immediately turned serious, eyes more intense than she’d ever seen, sending a bolt of electricity through her blood. “Can you make it through the dance? It’s fine if you can’t, I can get you out.”

What?

“I…I can wait,” she managed to choke out.

Nate looked at her for a couple of seconds before nodding, arm moving to gently rest behind her as if some kind of fail safe, and it was all Rachel could do to focus on keeping her breathing steady, eyes stinging with tears as she locked her gaze on her friends as they twirled around the floor. But in reality she was barely taking anything in, other than the heat of his body protecting her. Because that’s what it was – he was protecting her. She knew she was a hair away from having a full-on breakdown, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention away from the happy couple. The last thing. It was only that thought that kept her together until the music ended, and the moment everyone burst into applause, Nate was whisking her outside, somehow neither of them being stopped by other guests for polite chitchat.

Small mercies.

When they were in a secluded grassy nook, Nate turned around to face her.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

How could he even ask that?

“Am I okay? Of course I’m not okay!”

He held his hands up in soft surrender. “What’s wrong?” Nathe frowned.

“You! You’re what’s wrong!”

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Okay I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything to earn that.”

Rachel just groaned, clenching her fists as she closed her eyes briefly. He hadn’t done anything to earn it? He’d done everything to earn it!

In the 20 years they’d known each other, all she’d ever ‘known’ of him is the way he always poked at her, always the first to draw attention to her doing something stupid, untying the bows in her hair, jostling her in the school hallways. As they’d grown up he hadn’t really changed, even when he spent more time away for hockey. He still made fun of her choices in boyfriends, in clothes, in music, even being as dumb as to take the last beer at summer parties or the burger she’d been waiting for or laughing at her not being able to walk in a straight line when she was drunk.

But never anything cruel. Just stupid attention grabbing things that absolutely got her focusing only on him and no-one else, just like Angela said. Stupid irritating Nathan MacKinnon, and all of his stupid ideas, and stupid inability to actually talk like a human being.

It wasn’t until Nate started laughing that she realised she’d been ranting out loud, blurting out all of her angry thoughts to him, and it was all she could do to let out a frustrated bitten-off scream of frustration as he smirked that annoying smirk.

“You’re right, I don’t want your attention on anyone else. I never have, Rach, and I never will. If I’d known you hadn’t actually realised that, maybe I would’ve used my words. But where’s the fun in that?”

Oh that absolute ass.

Rachel let out another quiet shriek of frustration, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Nate still laughing even as she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate. And for Rachel Summers and Nathan MacKinnon, they were destined.

#my writing #nathan mackinnon fic #bre's birthday fic bingo #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon x oc #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

05/30/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; Rachel House; GuzKhan; Police Menacing Max: Pride Month; Tell Tale TV Awards Reminder; Emmy Considerations: #Emmy4ConONeill Day; June 3 Fuckery with AdoptOurCrew; FanSpotlight; Mermay; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

== David Jenkins ==

Well, Chaos Dad Chose violence today.

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Taika Waititi ==

Rita's new Music Video came out at midnight last night, and I was planning on just having this one picture, but now I gotta put in the whole video so you can see Taika in his Laundromat glory.

Source: Rita Ora's Instagram

Source: Kiaora29's Twitter

== Rachel House ==

Rachel out with friends <3

Source: Rachel House's Instagram

== Guz Khan ==

Quick Guz Khan sighting!

Source: Guz Khan's Instagram

= Reminder to Vote =

You can vote for the Tell-Tale TV Awards every day! Please do! Let's get OFMD and Rhys and Ruibo an award! Vote here.

Source: SaveOFMD Crew Instagram

= Upcoming Emmy Considerations =

Today 5/31/24 is the push for #Emmy4ConONeill! You can get useful graphics on the Our Flag Means Fanfiction linktr.ee or make your own! The biggest goal is to make #Emmy4ConONeill Trend! Rhys is up next on June 1! and Taika on June 8!

== June 3 Fuckery with Adopt Our Crew ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew will be pushing #DontStreamOnMax with any other relevant hashtag (#OurFlagMeansDeath, #SaveCoyoteVsAcme) on June 3rd during the Stockholder Meeting! Feel free to come out for the fuckery if you can!

Source: AdoptOurCrew Instagram

== Max Menacing: Pride Month ==

Thank you to @patchworkpiratebear for sharing these, there's lots of posts you can go to and polite menace max on for trying to make money off of pride month after cancelling OFMD and other queer shows. Feel free to hop onto your favorite platform and "unleash hell".

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7mTElVseN1/?igsh=MWVubW8wM3lzZmZseA==

Tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeVFwdJb/

Twitter: https://x.com/StreamOnMax/status/1796211911052161511

==More Under the Cut==

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast card is our very near and dear Jes Tom! Thank you so much @melvisik for making sure they get their spotlight!

== MerMay ==

Today is the final day of Mermay! Have you filled out your Bingo cards? If you've done any please be sure to tag @bizarrelittlemew! I've really enjoyed this month's prompts and so many wonderful submissions for them! Thank you again Ida for putting this together!!

= xoxoemynn =

Our dear friend @xoxoemynn put together a fic for Mermay 2024! Please check it out below!

= Snejpowa =

Oh you glorious person you, @snejpowa this is going to make me cry. The intensity in those eyes, and the detail, my heart 😭 

Day 30: Nine Guns

= Blueberreads =

Huzzah! The absolutely brilliant and delightful @blueberreads is keeping us fed with more MerMay Pixel gifs!

Day 30: Nine Guns

== Eros The Artist ==

The lovely, creative, and talented @erostheartist has done it again! This time with Izzy and the color teal prompt. I love the swallows, lovely connection to Izzy.

Day 26: Teal

= Spencer Does Art =

Poor Edward.. I love the dripping eye make up on this one it really is haunting. Thank you as always to the fantastic @ spencerdoesartt on IG!

= Stjernegaupe =

More vector art from the lovely @stjernegaupe. I saw Calypso's Birthday on Samba's Instagram stories the other day! Congrats!

Day 17: Have you ever been sketched? / Day 18: Calypso's Birthday / Day 19: Rowboat / Day 20: High On a Rocky Ledge / Day 21: Sandwich

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies. It's finally here, it's Friday! I know this has been a bit of an up and down week for everyone, so please remember to take a break this weekend and get some much needed rest. I'm running behind on all the things today so I'd just like send you some love notes from the wonderful @ TheLatestKate. If you don't already follow her, please head over there and do so because she brings me so much peace when she posts. Happy Friday crew, <3

Source: The Latest Kate's Tumblr

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Well, couldn't resist the Taika lean back and stare gif tonight, my contribution of ridiculous pairings is poor Rhys and the anal beads (and not knowing what they are).

Darby Gif by the absolute ultimate Rhys Rhysource, @wastingyourgum

Taika Gif by one of the best folks @eddie-redcliffe

#Youtube #ofmd daily recap #rhys darby #taika waititi #david jenkins #rachel house #guz khan #adopt our crew #our flag means death #ofmd #save ofmd #long live ofmd #finish our stories #polite menacing #emmy considerations #emmy4cononeill

[blouisparadise]

There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#blp fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #blp #fic recs #larry

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Hi ! Congrats on 300 followers !

Can I request :

Crosshair

Romantic

Fem!reader

sfw

300

Prompt #6 : "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now."

optional : said by reader to Crosshair after he was rescued from Mount Tantiss (maybe after a nightmare)

Thank you so much and congratulations again ! <3 (And you don't have to do it if you don't want to, it's totally fine)

I Won't Leave You

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Tags & Warnings: nightmare, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 300

Author's Note: CORA, I AM SO SORRY. I got so carried away trying to complete the bingo fics that I let the last three event requests sit idle in my inbox. However, as promised in my New Years post, I have finally completed it!!! Thank you so much for your patience and putting up with me. I hope you still like it 💚

Crosshair shoots up in his bed, screaming at the top of his lungs as sweat pours down his face. He heaves in his breaths and claws at the duvet to try and find reality, but the images from his nightmare refuse to dissipate from his mind. As he continues to search for safety, he feels a hand grab his arm and he begins to flail wildly, desperately trying to escape his nightmare.

"Easy," you say.

Crosshair tries to remember who the voice belongs to, but the room is dark and his mind is still groggy, so he continues to fight your grip as if you're an attacker.

You turn on the lamp on the bedside table and as his eyes adjust to the brightness, he finally sees who the hand belongs to. It's yours. You're holding his wrist and looking at him with concern in his eyes.

His body trembles as he settles and works to get his breathing under control.

"I'm here," you soothe. "I've got you. You're safe now."

Crosshair swallows hard. "I… I don't know what happened."

"A nightmare?" you ask.

"Yeah," he pants. "A bad one. From my time on Mount Tantiss. They did… things to me."

You suck in a breath. "That place is gone now. They can't hurt you anymore."

"But the memories–"

"Are just memories," you whisper.

"I can't…" he breathes while holding the side of his head. "I can't get rid of them."

"It'll take time," you reassure.

"Time," he says. "The one thing I don't have."

You pull Crosshair into your chest and scoot back against the headboard, wrapping your arms around him.

"You can try to go back to sleep when you're ready," you say. "I won't leave you."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

Event Masterlist

Masterlist

A03

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#tbbb writes #crosshair x fem!reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #clone x you #tbb crosshair #crosshair #tbbb's 2/3 follower event #2/3 follower event #drabble #300 words #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #bad batch fic #tbb fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

[soft-girl-musings]

Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3)

Steven Grant x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: theater kid slander (affectionate), amateur references to Shakespeare, steven and reader teach high school, no use of y/n

wc: 1,341

fic summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. And neither does the play you watch unfold.

A/N: as a recovering theater kid, this was a fun one. enjoy!

_____________________

It's poor etiquette to laugh. Right?

How you ended up sitting in a high school theater on a Sunday afternoon, you have no idea. Well, that's not true: you never can say no to your favorite students. When they begged you to come to their closing matinee, you had no choice but to cough up the ticket money (with no faculty discount, to add insult to inconvenience).

So here you are, seated in the darkened auditorium, watching what could only be described as chaos unfold on your school's professional-grade thrust stage.

In the lobby you'd heard whispers of how last night's cast party had gotten a bit too rowdy, rendering a few upperclassmen unable to attend their final performance. It didn’t matter what circle you ran in at their age: you’d learned years ago that a “mysterious illness” following any high school party probably isn’t the flu.

Thankfully there were enough students to fill in the missing principal roles, but with only the morning to prepare, it’s a wonder they've gotten through each scene. Draped in ill-fitting costumes with scripts in hand, the students have tried their best to piece together one last staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. All you know about this play is that it’s a comedy, but you don’t think you’re supposed to laugh at every blunder and mishap.

(It’s very hard not to.)

Across the house you see Mr. Grant, one of the younger teachers on campus, whose face mirrors how you feel. He’s probably trying for a look of statuesque stoicism, but all he's managed to pull off is mild bewilderment.

You haven’t spoken to your coworker much– mainly because there’s rarely a moment where he’s without another colleague talking his ear off or hanging on every word of his (admittedly delicious) accent. He’s a newer hire, having come from London to teach a few history courses but was moved to the literature department the moment your principal saw the top of his resume. The modern education system, ladies and gentlemen.

The man is dressed to impress: black turtleneck under a sharp tweed ensemble, his usually wild curls tamed a bit as they grace his forehead, he certainly looks the part of a private school instructor. But there’s no denying the entirely unserious look on his face: he is one blunder away from losing his cool.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until his bright brown eyes connect with yours. In an instant you understand why so many students doodle his name in the margins of their notebooks: his exasperated stare has you instantly weak.

–which is poor timing, given the scene unfolding onstage between you. An unrehearsed kiss goes wrong, and the two of you slap your hands over your mouths to subdue your laughter.

The rest of Act I goes the same way. You try to follow along, but every so often your eyes drift to Mr. Grant white-knuckling his way through the rough performance. When your eyes connect again (and again, and again) you both struggle to contain your laughter. Knowing that tears are likely stinging your colleague's eyes the same as yours makes you feel like less of an ass.

The curtain closes for intermission and you rest your head in your hands. How is this only half over?

“Bit of a rough watch, yeah?”

Your head snaps up– those brilliant brown eyes widen at your expression, now only one row of seats between the two of you.

“Mr. Grant–”

“Steven,” he says quickly, offering his hand. You take it and smile.

“Steven,” you begin again, giving your name in return. “I don’t mean to be rude, but aren’t some of these kids–”

“–in my Shakespearean Studies course? Quite a few, really.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we’ve focused more on the historical tragedies. Don’t think a textbook can teach comedic timing.”

“Oh, I've laughed plenty.” You fidget with your program and look back to the stage. “At least they’re trying their best, I’m sure part of you is proud.”

Steven’s smile grows as he shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, it’s nice to know they’ve looked at the material for once.” He leans in. “Last week I asked them where the phrase ‘double, double, toil and trouble’ came from, and someone said Harry Potter.”

You laugh out loud for the first time all evening. It feels nice to not hide it. You miss how Steven takes in the sight of you, as well as his loss for words when you calm down.

“I have a confession to make,” you say hoarsely, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what’s supposed to be happening. I’m lost as hell.”

“Maybe I could–” he trips over his words and his feet as he clambers around the seats to sit next to you. “Maybe I could help you out. Bit of an expert, myself. What they pay me for, and all–”

“Sure,” you stop him with a smile. “I’d like that.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and settles in. Pulling out a pair of reading glasses, he opens his program.

“Right. So, A Midsummer Night’s Dream…”

The rest of your intermission is spent receiving a crash-course in William Shakespeare. You’re amazed at how he spouts the most minute details about recurring symbolism, character motivations, and even the historical context of the play up until the lights dim and the show resumes. You squeeze his forearm to silently suggest taking a break, and he chokes down whatever factoid was about to tumble out next.

Maybe it’s because the students have found their footing. Maybe your mini-lecture has filled in the gaps so you can better follow along. Or maybe it’s the sight of Mr. Grant– Steven– sitting beside you, rapt attention on the stage as his readers slide down his nose each time he laughs and leans in to explain the joke, drawing closer and wafting his subtle cologne your way between still-too-loud whispers. Whatever the reason, you’re enjoying the second half of this show much more than the first.

The play draws to a close with a happy ending. One of the fae characters comes downstage to address the audience as the rest of the cast departs.

“If we shadows have offended,

Think but this and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear…”

“Star pupil, that one,” Steven whispers once more. “Deserves every bit of the spotlight.”

You squeeze his arm again, this time not moving your hand or looking his way. You both take in the last words of the performance in dazed silence.

“...Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.”

With that, the fairy bows and the stage fades to black.

The audience erupts into applause as the cast returns onstage. You and Steven cheer and swap last-minute quips about the performance as the standing ovation thunders around you.

You exit the auditorium together and are immediately swarmed by a handful of students– some yours, some his– who eagerly await your feedback. You each congratulate the cast, getting them to sign your programs to commemorate the day.

Finally you’re able to break away and step into the brisk evening air.

“Well that was… something,” you laugh.

Steven grins as he fastens his coat. “‘Least they’ll be tuckered out in first period, yeah? Might get a bit of peace tomorrow morning.” He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Sorry, don’t want you to leave that behind. Could be worth something someday.”

You take your folded program back from him. “Oh, I'm sure.”

With an awkward wave, Steven steps back. “Right. Well, see you around.”

“See you, Steven.”

You turn to head toward your car. As you walk, you unfold your program to see a new signature on the back page, followed by a phone number.

Let me know if you need any more Shakespeare translated. I’m fond of the love poems, myself ;)

_____________________

A/N: mk bingo has been a blast, i'm grateful for the chance to put these guys in Situations. that's one for each of em now. we'll see who gets attention next...

also, some inspiration was taken from this post (rip)

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

#my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant/gn!reader

[malecdiscordserver]

Calling all Shadowhunters creators--it's time to dust off your notebooks, sketchbooks, laptops, drawing tablets, and other creative instruments.

Welcome to By the Angel Bingo!

What is By the Angel Bingo? By the Angel Bingo is a Shadowhunters-themed event where you request a grid of prompts in the layout of a bingo board. The goal is to fill the prompts until you get a traditional bingo (filling 3 or 5 in a row, column, or diagonally) or until you blackout your entire board! 

Do I have to be a part of the Malec Discord Server to sign up? No, being a part of the Malec Discord Server Community is not required to be a part of this event, but it is highly encouraged if you’re looking for friends to bounce ideas off of, if you need help finding a beta reader, or if you’re just looking for Shadow Fam to hang out with. 

What is the schedule?

Sign-ups open: February 1st

Sign-ups close: February 29th

Last day to request prompt changes: March 31st

Masterpost due by: September 30th

Have more questions? Join the Malec Discord Server or keep reading under the cut for official rules, minimum requirements, and other FAQs!

How will it work? On Thursday, February 1st, sign-ups will open for a bingo card. In your sign-up, you will be asked a few questions including what size bingo card you’d like (3x3 or 5x5). You will then receive a bingo card from one of the Mods to your preferred method of contact within 3-5 days. Sign-ups will remain open until Thursday, February 29th. From there, you’ll have until Monday, September 30, to complete what you can on your bingo card! 

What if I don’t like my prompts? You may request 3 (for 3x3 cards) or 5 (for 5x5 cards) replacement prompts at one time. If you need more than 3-5 prompts replaced, you will be sent an entirely new card. This can only happen once. If you receive a new card, you can request 3-5 replacement prompts again for the last time. You can request changes to your board until March 31st, a month after sign-ups close. 

Can I sign up if I’m under 18? Yes! Anyone is able to receive a bingo card, but you must be over the age of 18 to request NSFW prompts or submit NSFW fills. You also must be over the age of 16 to join the Malec Server. 

Are there any content restrictions? This bingo is open to all creations; fic, art, gifs, videos, moodboards, playlists, cosplay, physical art, etc. All bingo fills must be Shadowhunters-related. Any ships/characters/ratings are permitted as long as they are properly tagged. RPF is not allowed for this event. 

Am I required to get a bingo or blackout my card? Not at all! You can fill as little or as many prompts as you have the time/energy to complete. This is low to no stress. Low risk, high reward. HAVE FUN. 

Can I combine prompts? Each prompt needs to be its own fill, but you can post a multi-chapter fic or art series with one prompt per chapter/piece. 

What if I black out my entire card before the final posting date? Congrats! You did it! You can either be done OR ask for a second bingo card. 

Minimum requirements: 

Fic: 500 words

Digital/physical art: 1 piece

Photomanipulation: 1 piece

Gifsets: 2 gifs

Moodboards: 4 images

Video: 30 seconds

Playlists: 10 songs 

Podfic: 500 words (with author’s permission)

Rules: 

You must be over 18 to request NSFW prompts and submit NSFW fills. You have to be over 16 to join the Malec Server. 

Any Shadowhunters-related ships/characters/ratings are permitted as long as they are tagged appropriately. 

You may create works based off of the show, books, or movies, but no RPF is allowed. 

You may request a 3x3 card (8 prompts) or a 5x5 card (24 prompts). 

You may request 3 (for 3x3) or 5 (for 5x5) replacement prompts at one time. 

If you need more than 3-5 prompts replaced, you will be sent an entirely new card.

This can only happen once. If you receive a new card, you can request 3-5 replacement prompts again for the last time. 

You can request changes to your board until March 31st, a month after sign-ups close. 

Each card has one “FREE SPACE” to be used as a wildcard where you can submit any creation that follows the rules of the event.

Each prompt needs to be its own completed fill, but you can post a multi-chapter fic or art series with one prompt per chapter/piece.

Each fill must be NEW during the bingo posting period. No past creations may be used as a fill.

Fills can be combined with other events (i.e. Femslash February, Any Fandom Bingo, Trope-specific bingos, etc.) only if the other event allows it and you meet the minimum requirements for both events.

Prompts can be interpreted as literally or figuratively as you like (I.e. A/B/O meaning a frat house, or falling to your knees in the sense of lust, despair, clumsiness, etc.) If you think it fits, it probably fits. 

All bingo fills must be added to the AO3 collection. If posted on Tumblr/Twitter, the Malec Discord Server must be tagged (@malecdiscordserver/@MalecServer).

If you are participating in this bingo, you are not allowed to shame any ships/kinks/characters/content of any kind created by other participants. Failure to follow this rule may lead to a lifetime ban of Malec Discord Server-run events. We’re in this for a good time, not a dramatic time. 

#shadowhunters #malec #writing event #fandom bingo #bingo event #art event #bingo #magnus bane #alec lightwood #the mortal instruments #jimon #clizzy #clace #clary fairchild #simon lewis #clary fray #jace wayland #izzy lightwood #mdsevents