#and it only took me 12 months to get there!!

[shadow-coolness]

Lor: This is a parody, official release, support DC Comics!

[Cut to a space ship landing near a farmer's home]

Farmer: You're an alien!

Halk: I'm an alien.

Batman: Am I an alien?

Halk: doubtful. Where's my brother?

Batman: I don't know.

Halk: Then you're useless to me! [flies away]

[Super Souls!]

[cut to Clark and friends on the beach]

Clark: I have a kid!

Jon: I'm socially awkward.

Jimmy: He's adorable!

[Jimmy gets bitched m through the Kent House and the owned counter goes off the scale]

Halk: I'm here for my brother!

Clark: Am I your brother?

Halk: Yes!

[Shookness ensues]

Halk: I'm taking your son.

Clark: No, you're not! [gets Kneed] Ah, he took my son!

Batman: I'm here to help you.

Clark: Aren't we enemies?

Batman: Nobody read Pre-Crisis. Let's go!

Clark: Are you insane?

Batman suddenly in a straightjacket: Hells yeah!

[they catch up with Halk]

Clark: Gimme back my son!

*Unzipping noises*

Clark: Gross.

Booster Gold: HA HA!

[one battle later Clark has Halk in a full-nelson]

Clark: Batman! Get him!

Batman: Convenient Kryptonite Spear!!

[the spear pierces the brothers]

Announcer: DOUBLE KILL!

Clark: And now I am the dead bleh.

Jimmy: Oh, no! Clark’s dead!

Lor [through the transmitter]: Hey, Non, let's go to Earth.

Non [through the transmitter]: Ballin'.

Jimmy: Oh, no! More Kyrptonians!

Batman: I'm taking Jon! [flies off with Jon]

[cut to Wild Cat]

WC: Hi, maggots. I'm training you. I'm annoying and overly violent, but I'll never say it flat-out.... BA!

Jimmy: AH!

[cut to Batman teaching Jon]

Batman: DODGE! [kicks Jon]

[cut to Clark in the afterlife]

Cutlass: YARRRG!

Clark: Who are you?

Spectre: Im the Spectre. You now know the KryptoKen and the Solar Bomb. Fuck off, Shut up Cutlass.

[cut to Batman and Jon]

Batman: 12 months have passed! Let's go fight Kryptonians!

Jimmy: Oh, God, it's the Kryptonians!

Lor: Hi.

Jimmy: Ambush's here!

[explosion]

Jimmy: Ambush’s dead!

Lor: Non, get 'em!

Non: I am hilarious and you will quote EVERYTHING I say.

Jimmy: Steel, get 'em!

Steel: I am the only serious character in this comic. That is the joke.

[everyone except Jimmy and Jon get wrecked]

Jimmy: Oh, God! Everyone's dead!

Non: Hilariously derailing one-liner.

Superman: Supe's here!

Jimmy: Clarks here!

Lor: It's over nine thousaaa---

Non: AHHHH--

Lor: aaaaaaa-----

Non: AHHHH---

Lor: aaaaaaaa--

Non: AAAHHH---

*They continue screaming until Lor kills Non*

Non: LOR, WHY!?

Lor: Because I'm a lizard!

[Lor transforms into a giant lizard monster]

Clark: Kyrpto-Ken!

Lor: Kyrpto wha-?

[gets his tail cut off and reverts back to normal]

Lor: Oh, no! I'm not a lizard! OH, NO! The kid's a lizard! FLAMEBIRD FINISH!

Jimmy: The FUCK?!

[Lor cuts off Jons tail]

Lor: Yay! [the giant lizard body of Jon falls on him] No!

[Lor gets crushed]

Lor: ...Leaving now. [takes off in a space ship]

Superman: And we'll never see him again!

Lor [in space]: They'll see me in the next issue.

[Ghost Non pops up]

Ghost Non: And I'M a ghost.... Or AM I?

[SUPER SOOOOOOOOOO-]

[Cut to Peter Parker who was reading this]

Peter: .... This has HOW MANY readers?

[cinematicnomad]

Tell me how the move went! :) <3

no move!! i'm in the same apt i've been in since last september, it's just finally, FINALLY fully furnished. the coffee table was the last big item i needed to buy (just in time for my lease renewal).

don't know if you remember but when i first moved in i didn't own a lot of stuff. the big open target bookshelf was the first item i purchased last september when i moved in as a way to separate my bed space from what would eventually be the living space, but for months that half of the studio was just...empty.

then my couch was finally delivered in mid november, but it was literally facing a blank wall (i have ALMOST finished paying off that couch). my parents visited around thanksgiving and brought me a tiny christmas tree so i could actually look at something when sitting on my couch and then they went with me to buy a big mirror to add to my space. as an early christmas gift my mom bought me a tv stand while it was on sale over black friday...for a tv i did not own lol. but i finally got a tv around...february (which took me about 4 months to pay off)? and left that christmas tree up until march due to a lack of light! but i finally got a standing lamp in april.

my great uncle passed away in march and in his will he dictated that all of his friends and family should get together and pick a few pieces of art from his collection. my mom and aunt convinced drunk-me to pick a very large piece that i loved, along with 2 others by the same artist, and those were finally delivered and hung in june (i'm grateful that they convinced me to stick with my choice but i was stressed about it for ages lol).

and then FINALLY i bought the coffee table. which i originally ordered for pick up only to drive an hour out of my way to find out the box was JUST BARELY too big for my car. so i had to return it and re-order it for shipping and it arrived yesterday and my brother helped put it together, officially, finally tying everything together.

✨sleepover weekend✨

[arcanegifs]

[goldensunset]

You wanna know something weird? You just did in a few weeks what 12 yr old me could never do.

My first Pokémon game ever was Black. Unfortunately I was also an idiot that relied on my starter, the Sawk that I caught for the second gym, and the Excadrill that I leveled up for vanity’s sake. So once Ghetsis took out my beloved Splash, there was little else I could do.

being 12 years old is a solid excuse for pretty much everything man. i don't blame you you know how hard i struggled on some of these fights? how stressful it was? even with greater skill and preparation i had a rough time of it. i say major props to you for having even three solid pokémon bc a lot of the stories you hear about this kind of thing are people who literally only have one pokémon, their overlevelled starter

[eldritch-crabbo]

Dad: “You’ve never consistently walked every day how do you know it wouldn’t help?” (my chronic fatigue and perceived laziness for only doing as much as I need to and no more)

Me: “I literally walked (up the steep ass hill leading to our neighborhood) every day with 30 lbs of textbooks on my back for 7 years.”

Dad: “And you had more energy and were 100lbs lighter back then! See it works!”

like literally 1. no, I definitely did not. there’s (many) reasons I didn’t do homework and was failing every class bc of it, and a lack of energy was a big one. 2. lmao I gained like 30 lbs since I got out of high school if he really thinks it was 100 he’s deluding himself. 3. i only did all of that because i literally had no other choice. what was I going to do as someone who has a massive fear of punishment (in large part because of him), not go to school? skip class and get treated even worse? this is the man that cut off my access to running water for like 12 hours as punishment once. i can’t believe i ever thought that shit was normal

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm doing something i haven't done since october 2020 right now. that's right, i'm watching twin peaks the return

[nexttothelamp]

Damn I love my wife so much it might kill me

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[haileys-out2]

I’ve been told to make this caption from one of my photos (yes this is me in the photo). I have no control over any of this, I’ve been told what tags to use and how long the post is to be pinned to the top of my page. 😥

The post is up for three months (until June 8) and I am scared about how long I’ll get!!

P-p-please be nice. I d-d-don’t want my life ruined!! 😭😭😭

Update. If this post hits 100 REBLOGS I have to get a larger plug and dildo.

Update 2. You are all mean (specially @count-alta with your 20-odd reblogs)😤😭😭 I now have to get a larger plug and dildo. If it gets to 300 REBLOGS then I have to make a Discord server to show that I am in fact wearing the cage and plug 😭😭😭😭 this is getting both out of control and expensive

Update 3. It hasn’t even been a week. 😢😢 I’ve been instructed to add note milestones. I’ve only been given a couple for now but more will be added if any of you suggest something my dominant likes.

Update 4. I’m back from a brief hiatus from Tumblr while I settled into a new job, and I discovered that this post really took off. I now have to make discord (coming soon) and I’ve been given a new Reblog MILESTONE. If this post reaches 500 Reblogs I will have to start HRT. If it hits 1000 Reblogs then I have to find a man to fuck me on camera 😭😭😭😭. Please be nice.

Update 5: whelp it’s done. My Discord server is live

1500 notes: I have to keep myself hairless from the nose down.

1700 notes: Make an Amazon Wishlist and add 100 toys and clothes for anyone to buy. Anyone who buys them will get a free show with what they bought

1800 notes: my hair must be grown out

2000 notes: I have to resume my BambiSleeps regimen

2500 notes: Practice deepthroating the current sized dildo twice a week

2750 notes: I now have listen to Bambi sleeps every morning, afternoon and night on my days off

3000 notes: Sit on a 7-inch dildo 2 times a week for 30 min

3250 notes: I have to start using she/her pronouns

3500 notes: I have start wearing a bra everyday

3750 notes: Use a large plug now

4000 notes: I have to start an OF (ManyVids and webcamming as well once I find a better living arrangement)

4250: I have to film myself suck cock

4500 notes: i can only ever cum from anal

5000 notes: I can only wear androgynous clothing. Nothing overtly masculine

5100 notes: Sit on an 8-inch dildo 3 times a week for 30 min

5400 notes: Listen to Bambisleep hypno every time I do anal

6000 notes: edge with a Hitachi magic wand for 30 once a week

6500 notes: start using a ball gag whenever I do anal

7100 notes: Once a week I have to film myself anal training and share it to the discord channel

8000 notes: Sit on a 9-inch dildo 4 times a week for 30 min

8500 notes: I must listen to ALL hypno that is sent to me

9000 notes: The Hitachi edging session becomes twice a week

12300 notes: Clicker train myself to get horny to the thought of cock

13200 notes: Use an XL plug now

13500 notes: Only use 10-inch toys from now on sit on it 6 times a week for 30 min, once a week use a 12+ inch toy

15000 notes: I have to get either bottom surgery or an orchiectomy

20000 notes: I have to be spit roasted

25000 notes: I have to be the center of a Blow Bang

32500 notes: I have to be the center of a Gangbang 😳😳😳

[navramanan]

The hike knocked me off so bad slept until 12

[borgiatargaryen]

So, late October 2010 my older brothers brought home this kitten they’d found on the streets, right? (Literally 3 days before Speak Now’s release-- 12 year old me was unaware, though, because I’m silly and missed the announcement and didn’t discover it’s existence until the following fall but that’s beside the point) And then, in 2014 we lost our house and my neighbor (Now ex-neighbor) took him in as if he was their own. Anyway, so today I found out that one of the neighbors on that block thought that the cat was theirs for some reason and had him put down?? (With only five days until Speak Now (TV)’s release) 

Rest in Peace, Lucky, you were such a little sweetie boy. I miss you, and you deserved better, baby love. 💔🥺

[shinyspooks]

one thing i've noticed with a lot of dpxdc prompts involving Impulse is that you guys seem to exclusively use the "apocalyptic future" storyline from the Young Justice cartoon.

personally. i think it's FAR funnier to use the original comic's version;

when he was born, Bart Allen's body was developing too fast. The speedforce was affecting him in a way previously unseen- he looked 12 even though he was only 3 years old mentally.

so, the scientists of the future could only come up with one solution; they put his body in stasis and put his mind in virtual reality.

Bart "Impulse" Allen, grew up in a video game.

After he gets sent to the past and shocked out of his rapid aging, he treats the world the one you'd expect someone who grew up in a video game would. He has no concept of consequences, mortality, and thinks in the most absurd outside the box ways.

He of course gets past this, character development and all.

But still, he's quite shocked when one of his video game mentors, Phantom, suddenly appears in a very much physical form, in the past no less.

And... why doesn't Phantom recognize him?

Or; in the future, scientists need a computer program that will allow a speedster's mind to grow properly. They decide to use the notes of the renowned (and long gone) "Tech Wizard", Tucker Foley. Within Foley's notes is a program simply called "Phantom".

Meanwhile, in the past, Danny is incredibly confused when this random speedster kid calls him by name before he's even introduced himself. Does this mean he's going to end up on another time adventure again?

Bonus: Bart canonically has an evil clone named Inertia, who took his place and pretended to be him for like. Literal months if I remember right, and nobody noticed. Anyways, give me a redeemed!Inertia hanging out with Dani or give me death-

[pellucid-constellations]

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n:​​​ I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties. 

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be. 

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall. 

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job. 

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

The library really needed new ceiling tiles. 

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done. 

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes. 

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. 

Your jaw ticked. “Home.” 

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon. 

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.” 

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.” 

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.” 

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?” 

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.” 

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?” 

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned. 

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window. 

He was lucky you accepted bribes. 

~~

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.” 

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?” 

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend. 

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.” 

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?” 

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?” 

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time. 

Not that that sounded the least bit grand. 

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense. 

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?” 

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.” 

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.” 

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote. 

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text. 

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over. 

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.” 

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?” 

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.” 

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.” 

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible. 

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you. 

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice. 

The duality of man. 

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.” 

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.” 

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.” 

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.” 

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way. 

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.” 

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.” 

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips. 

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite. 

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back. 

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.” 

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?” 

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier. 

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small. 

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.” 

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks. 

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.” 

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.” 

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more. 

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.  

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.” 

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?” 

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.” 

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had. 

~~

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend. 

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes. 

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing. 

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met. 

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan. 

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house. 

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.” 

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore. 

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission. 

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went. 

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face. 

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?” 

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.” 

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.” 

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?” 

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection. 

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat. 

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.” 

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.” 

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied. 

He asked again how much you’d had to drink. 

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments. 

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” 

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.” 

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.” 

“M’not even that drunk!” 

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.” 

“Maybe I want to be in your room.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.” 

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?” 

“So much.” 

“How much?” 

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed. 

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat. 

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum. 

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.” 

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.” 

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.” 

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—” 

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.” 

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?” 

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.” 

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met. 

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating. 

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them? 

“Would you let me?” he responds. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you. 

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore. 

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted. 

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work. 

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered. 

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.” 

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out. 

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up. 

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating. 

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

~~

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming 

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one. 

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it. 

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it. 

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one. 

From: University Peer Assistance Program 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours. 

Thank you, 

University Peer Assistance 

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on. 

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you. 

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible? 

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls. 

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you? 

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine. 

His mistake. 

That word felt wrong. 

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs. 

Ice cream would fix this. 

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off. 

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head. 

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register. 

“Nice outfit.” 

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good. 

“Thanks,” you quietly replied. 

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?” 

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.” 

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.” 

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked. 

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort. 

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.” 

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist. 

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels. 

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip. 

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.” 

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight. 

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine. 

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” 

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again. 

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist. 

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.” 

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work. 

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again. 

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking. 

“Please let go of me.” 

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it. 

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes. 

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled. 

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.” 

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?” 

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting. 

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither. 

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking? 

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor. 

“Look at me, y/n.” 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. 

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed. 

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?” 

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine. 

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.” 

“Of course.” 

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high. 

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him. 

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.” 

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.” 

“You get harassed all the time too?” 

“No…” 

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.” 

“Bucky—” 

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.” 

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go. 

“I’m not following,” you finally relented. 

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off. 

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.” 

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks. 

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less. 

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.” 

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful. 

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about” 

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.” 

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—” 

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?” 

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring. 

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.” 

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that. 

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.” 

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground. 

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.” 

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.” 

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache. 

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.” 

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.” 

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.” 

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

[sunrizef1]

White Hearts

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

warnings: none

a/n: took a while but here we go

—————————————————

yourusername

liked by landonorris carlossainz and 631,089 others

yourusername weekends 🪩🍾

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user1 landoooo

user2 who’s party was it

user3 the roses 🥹

user4 beautiful

landonorris 🤍

yourusername 🤍

user5 v aesthetic

user6 did anyone else post pics from the party???

carlossainz 🍾😵‍💫

yourusername real

user7 oh so Carlos was there at least

user8 slaying

oscarpiastri had fun!

yourusername aren’t u 12, were u even legally allowed to be there???

oscarpiastri uh

oscarpiastri I’m 22

yourusername who brought u???

oscarpiastri not Daniel

yourusername 😒

user9 what was the party for 😭 omg

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yourusername

liked by landonorris oscarpiastri and 765,008 others

yourusername 🦢

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user10 what’s the white for…

user11 where’d the bright party aesthetic go

user12 slaying

user13 stunning

landonorris 🤍

yourusername 🤍

user14 can they only talk in white hearts??? 😭

user15 my dream aesthetic

oscarpiastri I know things

yourusername clearly not much

oscarpiastri what

user16 Oscar???

user17 Lando in the last pic ❤️

danielricciardo very nice

yourusername don’t talk

yourusername still mad at you

danielricciardo what’d I do???

yourusername you brought a child to our party

danielricciardo he’s legal leave him alone

yourusername 😒

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yourusername

liked by landonorris danielricciardo and 853,098 others

yourusername ❕❔

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user18 they're so adorable

user19 cuteeee

user20 whole lotta white recently 🤨

charles_leclerc 😁

yourusername get outta here

charles_leclerc 😜

user21 wtf is Charles doing 😭

user22 why has she been posting white so much???

landonorris 🤍

yourusername 🤍

user23 the white hearts r actually going to drive me insane

user24 I have to know what these posts mean

user25 cute

logansargeant fun party

yourusername I already knew you were there

logansargeant rly???

yourusername yeah and I also know Oscar made you comment this so I'd reply

logansargeant but ur cool with me tho right

yourusername yea sure, idc

oscarpiastri why does he get a pass??!!!

yourusername American kids get a pass

user26 at this point y/n has to be doing it to annoy Oscar 😭

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by landonorris oscarpiastri and 908,997 others

yourusername weekend getaways 🤍

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user27 “weekend” they’ve been gone for a month lol

user28 the white again…

user29 is there some kind of party happening or something

user30 why

user31 a bunch of drivers have posted stuff about them traveling to what looks like this place today

user32 oh yeah must be some kind of get together

user33 where r they

user34 beautiful

oscarpiastri see you soon 😁

yourusername man gets invited to one party and starts cheesing

oscarpiastri I just miss you guys

yourusername why do you think we’re doing this dinner???

oscarpiastri so you admit you care about my feelings

yourusername never said that

oscarpiastri love you too

liked by yourusername

user35 so it’s like a team dinner then?

danielricciardo I ❤️ Italy

yourusername I’m glad

user36 and it’s in Italy… it’s giving destination engagement, he’s just proposed

landonorris 🤍

yourusername 🤍

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oscarpiastri has added to their story

yourusername

this is why I don’t invite you to things

landonorris

?

danielricciardo

mate 😭

you are so done

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by landonorris maxverstappen and 2,089,909 others

yourusername since oscar can’t keep a secret, here’s some wedding pictures. I’m so happy to have even met Lando and forever grateful that I get to spend the rest of my life with him 🤍

load comments…

user37 OH MY GOD

user38 ????

user39 ur kidding

user40 wtf???

user41 so it wasn’t an engagement 😭

oscarpiastri ….

yourusername I’m not talking to you anymore

oscarpiastri secrets are hard 😭

yourusername why’d you think you didn’t find out about the engagement until the wedding

oscarpiastri I thought that was the same for everyone????

yourusername just you and Danny

danielricciardo ???

user42 married!?

user43 omg she’s so beautiful

maxverstappen congrats!

yourusername your wedding gift should be a Lando race win

yourusername would also accept: private jet

maxverstappen how about you stick with the car I bought you

yourusername fair enough tbh

user44 I almost forgot how rich they all are and then I saw that max got y/n a car as a wedding gift and I suddenly remembered

landonorris 🤍

yourusername 🤍

user45 the white hearts make sense now 🥹

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landonorris has added to their story

[entitled-fangirl]

Anything for you, beautiful girl.

Felix Catton x virgin!reader

SMUT later in the story

Summary: The reader has a panic attack after being called names. Felix makes sure she knows how well she's loved by him as he talks her through it.

Warnings: cursing, p in v, fingering, name-calling by someone else.

Author's note: this is a mix of like nine different asks, so I hope it did them well enough together! ALSO, SWEET LOVEMAKING WITH FELIX IS THE BEST OML. Like he def talks you through it.

Masterlist

..................................................................

Felix and Y/N had been dating for only a little while.

7 months, 22 days and counting.

Well, Felix was.

He still couldn't believe he managed to get the prettiest girl in school. And that, she was.

She was utterly gorgeous. But she had the habit of not giving many people the time of day, opting rather to be by herself. Felix had always thought that if she really applied herself, she could be the most popular in college.

…

She was supposed to meet Felix at his dorm after their morning classes, which was to be 12:20. She had gotten out of her's early, so she sat on his bed, watching her phone glow from a call from her mother.

Her parents were horrible people, and Felix often encouraged her to ignore their callings, like today.

But this was the fifth call in ten minutes. And even for them, that was a bit excessive.

So, she picked it up.

…

The time was now 12:30 and Felix was walking down the corridor of his dorm, nearing his door. He reached for the handle, pausing when he heard the muffled sound of crying through it. He pushed his ear against the door, trying to truly tell if it was coming from his room.

The second he recognized it to be her, he threw the door open.

And the sight startled him.

She laid on the floor next to his bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, her hands covering her face in muffled sobs and weeps. 

She hadn't even heard him come in.

He immediately dropped his bag, kneeling down in front of her. He reached out with one hand, placing it on the side of her head.

She jumped, a small whimper coming from her throat as she finally looked up at him.

Her face was tear stained and her eyes were wide in fear. Her bottom lip quivered as she stared at him, her breathing beyond erratic. 

But her eyes seemed to relax sightly as she recognized who he was.

Felix took a moment to access the situation, deciding what to do. 

His voice was soft, a reminder of his gentleness for her, "…Angel? What's happened…?"

She simply continued to stare, her breathing too spastic to speak.

Once he recognized that, he sat himself on the floor completely, his worried eyes taking in her shaking frame. "Oh, Angel…" he cooed.

He gently pulled at her arms until he got her to sit in his lap. She then threw her arms around him and sobbed violently into his shoulder. "I…I couldn't… I didn't…" Felix tried to listen, but she couldn't even mutter a sentence through the tears.

He held her close to him, feeling her erratic heartbeats and worrying. "Hey…" 

When she didn't respond, he reached up to cup her face, his voice stronger, "Hey."

She finally looked up at him.

"Angel… you gotta calm yourself. Breathe with me. Yeah, pretty girl?"

She let out a soft nod.

He pulled her hand onto his chest to let her feel his calming breaths.

Eventually, she got the pattern down, and her own breathing was becoming somewhat calm.

He lets out a soft sigh at the sight of her tears finally slowing. "Beautiful, tell me what happened. What started all this?"

She sniffled, shaking her head. She pushed her face back into his shoulder.

One of his hands came up to play with her hair. His voice was soft, "Angel, how can we fix this if I don't even know how it happened?"

Then he looked up, seeing her phone resting on the edge of the bed. His eyebrows furrowed. He reached up, taking the small phone in his large hands.

He saw the screen light up with missed call notifications from a 15 minutes ago, but then only 3 minutes ago was multiple texts, all from her mother:

"I meant what I said."

"Wait until your father hears about you."

An audible gasp came from Felix's mouth as he read the words. Some fucking family they were. "Angel…?"

She let out a soft hum against his shoulder.

He nudged her softly, "Angel, I need you to pay attention."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. She saw the phone in his hand and her eyes widened, "Lex… I… I'm sorry."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, "No, Angel. You're not sorry. Because you don't have anything to be sorry about. Right? You didn't do anything, did you?"

She shrugged, "Mum sai-"

"-I don't give a fuck what your mum says," he said sharply. He let it sit before his voice softened, "I'm sorry, baby girl. I shouldn't yell at you. Your mum says awful things. Just… tell me what happened."

She sniffles, "Well, she called me over 5 times and-"

"Well, why did you pick it up, pretty girl?" He asked, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I think I was worried something serious had happened. I… I should've known better, Lex. That's why I'm sorry…"

His heart was breaking for her. His perfect little angel truly thought she deserved the horrific things her family always told her. That she was worthless. Stupid. Ugly. 

And above all that, she still felt the need to apologize to him for it.

"Oh, honey. Don't be sorry for that. We can't help it sometimes. Now," he pulled her close, his lips close to her ear, "tell me what she said to you today."

"…Promise you won't be mad…?"

He almost scoffed. Mad? At her? Never. Her mother? Always.

"No, angel. I won't be mad at you. I'll never be mad at you. Tell me."

She sighed, "She said I was… that I…"

Felix leaned in, waiting to hear her finish.

"…she said I was a whore."

Felix froze. His voice was deep, harsh and unkind, his face mimicking, "You're. Not. A. Whore."

Her eyes peered up to Felix's, a visible look of worry etched on her face. "I... It's just.. I… It…"

"I know, baby. It hurts when someone you trust says something so vile." He leaned his face to be inches from hers. "You don't believe it, do you?"

She looks down, her eyes saying enough.

Felix looked to the side, his jaw clenched. A long breath came out from his nose as he thought.

She noted the anger on his face and was quick to try to counteract it, "Felix. I… I'm fine. Please…"

"NO."

She leaned back from him, surprised by his raised voice.

He sighed again, trying to reign back his mind, "You're not a whore, angel."

She smiled, her hands coming up to caress his cheeks, "thank you, Felix."

"I mean it. You're no whore. We haven't even…. Ugh… why does she think that?"

"We've been dating a few months and… I guess she just expects it."

He nods, "Sure, for most. But you and I aren't most, are we, honey?"

She nods, "I'm sorry for that, too."

He does scoff this time, "I would wait a millennium, if that's what it took. I don't care."

"And to think…" she said under her breath.

He tilts his head, "…'and to think'….what?"

She looks at him like a deer in the headlights, realizing he had heard it, "I… nothing."

He smiles, "Tell me, angel. What's on your mind?"

"I just love you, is all."

His smile grew. He leaned close, a hand caressing her face gently as he slowly connected their lips. The kiss was soft and slow, expressing every emotion the other was feeling.

--------------------------SMUT STARTS HERE------------------------

He broke it, "You're so beautiful, angel." He kissed softly at her neck, "I would worship your body for eternity if you will let me." The humming of his voice tickled her throat softly, "Mmm… You own me, princess. Let me show you what you are to me, yeah?"

She nodded.

He gently picked her up, laying her on the bed. "How far can I go today, angel?"

She placed a hand on his chest, "I want you to go all the way."

His eyebrows furrowed, "W….what?"

Her voice was a whisper, "Please, Felix. I want to. I want… I want you, please."

He sat on the bed next to her, "And this… has nothing to do with earlier?"

She shakes her head, "I… I decided that today I wanted… I.. I wore… um… other things for today that I've never worn before. Because I want this, Catton. Please."

He smiled, "Alright, baby. I'll do just that." He leaned down, giving her a gentle kiss. "I wanna make you feel good. Can I do that? Make you feel pretty like you already are?"

She nodded, "Please, Lex."

He didn't need to be told twice. 

He gently pulled the clothes from her body, taking his time to watch her reaction closely. He half expected her to back out. 

But she wasn't backing out.

He let out a low whistle under his breath at the sight of her lingerie. She wasn't joking. 

She was beautiful.

"Oh, pretty girl… you make me so proud to be yours."

He leaned down on her small body, kissing her again. 

One of his hands began to wander south. One finger broke the band of her underwear, and he pulled away from the kiss. "This alright?"

She pulled him back down into the kiss.

His hand wandered down her panties to her slit. He knew not only by the feeling, but the sharp intake of breath from his pretty girl. 

He smiled, "Can I touch you, angel?"

Her voice was a whimper, "Please… p…please…"

He gently pushed a finger into her core.

He had never done this with her. And, judging from her reaction, she had never done this at all.

A low moan came from her throat as his second knuckle passed her pussy lips.

"Oh, honey. So pretty f'me. Yeah… prettiest girl I know…"

Once his finger bottomed out, he began to pull it back out, only to repeat the process.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing shaky. 

She was a vision.

Felix couldn't stop the smile on his face. 

He loved her so much.

And she was trusting him with everything she had. 

"Alright. I'm gonna add another one. Think you can take that?"

She nodded through the feeling, letting herself be stuffed with his fingers.

He kissed her forehead, "Just getting you ready for me, yeah?"

Her hand reached down her grip his wrist, "Felix.. I.. I don't…"

"Pretty girl can't hold on anymore? That's okay. Let it out, baby. Let me hear it."

Her back arched as she came on his fingers. A small whimper came from her mouth as her toes curled involuntarily.

She slumped back against the bed, feeling him kiss her neck gently.

"Good. So good. You wanna stop?"

She shakes her head, "No, please. I.. I wanna do this…"

He nods, "Okay. We'll do it."

He stood, rushing to his backpack. He pulled a water bottle from it, bringing it back to the bed. "Here, angel. Drink."

She did as he commanded.

Once she caught her breath, their lips connecting once more.

…

"Think you can do this, angel?"

She nods.

"This is what you want?"

She nods again.

"I have to hear you say it, princess. Please."

"Felix, please. I want you."

His hips slowly met with hers as he sunk into her.

He couldn't help the satisfied breath that left his lungs.

She let out a small grunt.

He bottomed out, looking back at her. "Tell me, baby."

Her eyebrows were furrowed together and her breathing become shallow. "I.. it hurts, Lex."

He nods, "I know." He kisses her forehead. "I'll stay as long as it takes for you to be ready."

After a moment, she nods, her hand coming up to his chest, "Please…"

He smiles, "Alright, angel. This may still hurt a bit, but it'll feel good, too. I promise."

And with that, he began to thrust. 

He couldn't stop the soft curses that came from his mouth under his breath. He couldn't help it. Seeing her so pretty under him like this alone could make him come undone.

She was no different. The pain turned into pleasure quick and she was arching her back to meet with his thrusts.

One hand of his reached down to push her hips back down, "Calm down, angel. I'll relieve you. I always will."

She nodded, small grunts and whimpers coming from her throat.

This moment was beautiful, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

He rested on one elbow, the hand on that arm coming up to her face, lightly tapping her cheek, "You gotta breathe. C'mon, baby. Breathe for me."

He was right. In all the pleasure, she wasn't breathing well.

Soon, he leaned down to her ear, "You close, honey?"

"S…s…so…so close…"

"Me too. God, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Do it, baby."

And she did.

He was not far behind, grunting as he came.

And the two simply stared at each other in awe.

"Thank you, angel."

"For what?"

"For trusting me this much."

He got up, throwing on his boxers. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her alone in the bedroom.

She sat up on her elbows, her eyebrows furrowing. 

She didn't understand why he'd leave like that.

He returned quickly though. "C'mere, princess. Let me clean you up."

He held a soft towel in his hand.

He gently cleaned her, kissing her temple while doing so. "How about a bath, beautiful?"

She smiled, "I'd love one."

He nodded, "Anything for you, beautiful girl."

.......................................................................................

[fingertipsmp3]

I’ve got a pokemon that’s been in a gym for over three weeks and one of the three people defending the gym with me has fed it so many berries that it’s at 3/4 health again. Why are you prolonging my suffering???