#lynn painter

[lizheartsyou]

BETTER THAN THE MOVIES IS BEING ADAPTED. CHARLIE BUSHNELL PICK UP THE DAMN PHONE.

[pinklacedangel]

i like shiny things

but i'd marry you

with PAPER RINGS!

[parkercoups]

"she's not you"

"what?"

"she . isn't . you"

last words i read before my book got thrown across my room

[cherryribbcns]

i want a love like the movies ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤshe's a liz buxbaum girl ⭑.ᐟ

[prophecywaiting]

Reasons I’m getting exiled from multiple fandom spaces:

I think Donatella Dragna was a really good sister

I really like Eve Shane

I don’t think Lia Zhang has ever done anything wrong

I do not care about Javery

I don’t like Elriel

I think Fake Skating is poorly written and gets most of its hype because of the author

My favorite Twisted couple is Josh and Jules

I think Aaron Warner is overhyped

[runnningoutofink]

alec barczewski - fake skating 𓂃⛸️💗

[queenofheartsdeservedbetter]

I need a Wes Bennett in my life. And that's a statement.

[nobodysdauqter]

rom-com with your favourite boy •`°~☆`•° wes bennett x reader

masterlist °•""~'x request !!* (but beware the silence)

"And when my eyes are closed, I see you for what you truly are... which is UGLY!" you toss the line out, eyes glancing at him and back to the screen.

Your boyfriend turns to look at you, unimpressed, but fully amused. “That felt targeted,” he says, brow raised.

You keep your eyes on the movie, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, well. Take a hint.”

A laugh leaves your mouth as the scene plays out in front, and you readjust the blanket covering both of you, tugging it higher over your legs.

His gaze lingers on you, eyes warm and unreadable. “I don’t know why I even bother,” he says eventually.

"You love rom-coms, shut up."

"I mean with you."

That earns your attention.

You turn your head, meeting his eyes. They’re sparkling, of course. And he’s wearing that grin — the infuriatingly cocky one he knows gets to you every single time.

"Throwing a card, I see," you reply.

Wes’s grin only widens. His arm stretches out further along the back of the couch, fingertips now brushing your shoulder, "You quote a rom-com insult at me, and I’m the one throwing cards?"

"I was just matching the energy of the film."

His voice lowers, just enough to feel intentional, "Yeah? Then let me match yours."

He shifts slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. "Unnecessarily dramatic. Mildly offensive. Weirdly endearing."

You try not to smile, but fail. "You're lucky I like you."

"Correction - you're obsessed with me," he says, now fully smirking.

“Delusional,” you mutter, eyes fixed back on the screen, but a small grin still there on your lips.

“Yet you’re still here. Must be doing something right.”

You shift under the blanket, trying to ignore the way his touch sends a subtle warmth through you. “You’re staring,” you say softly.

“I know,” he murmurs.

You finally turn your head, meeting his eyes. He’s watching you — not with his usual teasing smirk, but with something softer, something unspoken but fierce. His gaze is steady, warm, like he’s memorizing every detail of your face in the dim light.

“You’re pretty,” he says quietly, voice full of something real.

You try to look away, to brush it off, but you can’t. You’re pinned by the gentleness in his eyes, the slow, lingering touch of his fingers still ghosting over your shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper.

His thumb traces the curve of your collarbone, deliberate and tender, “You like it.”

Your voice barely rises above a breath. “Unfortunately.”

He leans in just enough so you can feel his warmth close to your skin. Then slowly presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth—sweet and impossible to ignore.

“Lucky me.”

💿○°` © nobodysdauqter (2025). do not republish, edit, translate, or plagiarize my works.