Born To Marry Him, Forced To Read Fanfics About Him

BUCKY BARNES + legs (requested by anonymous for 10k follower celebration)

words to use instead of _______

"Know"

appreciate, apprehend, catch, comprehend, conceive, discern, envision, estimate, experience, fathom, gauge, grasp, imagine, learn, measure, notice, perceive, realize, recognize, see, think, understand

"Like"

adore, appreciate, care, cherish, commend, devoted, embrace, esteem, exalt, fancy, fond, glorify, honor, idolize, love, prize, respect, revere, treasure, value, worship

"Little"

bitsy, dainty, delicate, diminutive, infant, microscopic, mini, minor, minute, modest, petite, puny, short, slight, slim, slender, small, teensy, teeny, tiny, undersized

"Look"

behold, bore, eye, fix, flash, focus, gander, gawk, gaze, glance, glare, inspect, later, notice, observe, peel, regard, squint, stare, survey, view

"Funny"

amusing, capricious, comical, droll, engaging, entertaining, hilarious. humorous, hysterical, joking, jolly, laughable, merry, playful. priceless, rich, riot, silly, whimsical, witty

more words to use instead other words to use instead even more words to use instead

Writing Resources PDFs

[FAN ART APPRECIATION] chimmyming cooks again

<OFFICIAL COMMISSION BY LOVE AND DEEPSPACE>

FOLLOW THE ARTIST! >> https://x.com/chimmyming?s=21&t=E--mYAhoHyWN-Kup-yWiBA

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the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

“It’s OK to live a life that others don’t understand.”

— Unknown

Simon likes what you likes

Tomorrow I promise to get some requests in my inbox done 🤞

Whenever Simon was asked what his favorite color was, or favorite movie, favorite song, favorite anything, really he always had the same answer.

“Don’t have one.”

Johnny would roll his eyes. Kyle would snort and call him a grump. Price wouldn’t bother asking. But Simon never thought too hard about it. He didn’t see the point. Liking things—really liking them—meant caring. And caring opened doors to places he preferred staying locked.

That was before you.

Before you, with your endless lists of favorites. Your hobbies, your collections, the way you lit up when talking about a movie you loved or a book you couldn’t put down. You could talk for hours. And you often did— sometimes with him half-listening, half-lost in the rhythm of your voice more than the actual words.

And somehow, over time, your favorites became his.

That one film you swore he had to watch? He rolled his eyes, grumbled through the first half— then watched it again when you weren’t home. It was the way you recited your favorite scenes by heart that eventually made it his favorite, too.

The book you kept on your nightstand? He picked it up one lazy afternoon, expecting to read a few pages just to pass the time. He finished it in a day.

Still, every time you asked him about his own favorites, he’d just shrug.

“I like what you like.”

You’d frown. Just a little. A soft downturn of your lips that made something in his chest ache.

So one day, he sat down and thought about it. Really thought.

What did he like? What was his thing?

Guns. Killing. Tracking a moving target from a hundred yards out and watching it drop.

Right. Cool.

So he took you to a shooting range. Taught you how to hold the weapon properly. How to breathe through the shot. How to steady your hands and trust your instincts. He might’ve gotten a little carried away with the details— describing things in a way that probably sounded more violent than romantic. But you liked it. You smiled through the recoil.

You liked doing what you thought he liked.

But the truth?

He would’ve rather been at one of your pottery classes. Covered in clay, watching you laugh when he ruined another mug. He’d rather be curled up on the couch, rewatching your favorite film for the third time. He’d rather do anything, everything, if it meant doing it with you.

Because Simon didn’t care about the things.

He cared about you.

He liked your smile. The way you dressed. The way you smelled— so much that he started using your body wash without even thinking about it.

“Why do ya smell like cupcakes, Lt?” Johnny had asked once, squinting at him, nose wrinkled.

Simon didn’t even blink.

“Your bloody nose probably doesn’t work properly after all the times you’ve been punched in the face.”

He never told him the real reason. Didn’t have to.

He’d already made up his mind.

It was never about the movie, the book, or the smell of your shampoo clinging to his skin. It was about you. About keeping a piece of you close, even in the smallest, stupidest ways. Simon didn’t need a list of favorites.

He had one. Just one. And it was you. Always you.

Not even two braincells amongst them.

"After everything you have done. How will you sleep at night?"

"Next to my wife."

tag your traumatized man comfort character