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ghelgheli · 2 months

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In contrast with professional drag queens, who were only playing at being women onstage, [Esther] Newton learned that the very bottom of the gay social hierarchy was the province of street queens. In almost total contrast to professional queens, street queens were "the underclass of the gay world." Although they embraced effeminacy, too, they did so in the wrong place and for the wrong reason: in public and outside of professional work. As a result, Newton explained, the street queens "are never off stage. Their way of life is collective, illegal, and immediate." Because they didn't get paid to be feminine and were locked out of even the most menial of nightlife jobs, Newton observed that their lives were perceived to revolve around "confrontation, prostitution, and drug 'highs'." Even in a gay underworld where everyone was marked as deviant, it was the sincere street queens who tried to live as women who were punished most for what was celebrated-and paid-as an act onstage. When stage queens lost their jobs, they were often socially excluded like trans women. Newton explained that when she returned to Kansas City one night during her fieldwork, she learned that two poor queens she had met had recently lost their jobs as impersonators. Since then, they had become "indistinguishable from street fairies," growing out their hair long and wearing makeup in public-even "passing" as girls in certain situations," in addition to earning a reputation for taking pills. They were now treated harshly by everyone in the local scene. Most people wouldn't even speak to them in public. Professional drag queens who didn't live as women still had to avoid being seen as too "transy" in their style and demeanor. One professional queen that Newton interviewed explained why: it was dangerous to be transy because it reinforced the stigma of effeminacy without the safety of being onstage. "I think what you do in your bed is your business," he told Newton, echoing a middle-class understanding of gay privacy, "[but] what you do on the street is everybody's business."

The first street queen who appears in Mother Camp is named Lola, a young Black trans girl who is "becoming a woman,' as they say'." Newton met Lola at her dingy Kansas City apartment, where she lived with Tiger, a young gay man, and Godiva, a somewhat more respectable queen. What made Godiva more respectable than Lola wasn't just a lack of hormonal transition. It was that Godiva could work as a female impersonator because she wasn't trying to sincerely live as a woman. Lola, on the other hand, was permanently out of work because being Black and trans made her unhireable, including in female impersonation. When Newton entered their apartment, which had virtually no furniture, she found Lola lying on "a rumpled-up mattress on the floor" and entertaining three "very rough-looking young men." These kinds of apartments, wrote Newton, "are not 'homes.' They are places to come in off the street." The extremely poor trans women who lived as street queens, like Lola, "literally live outside the law," Newton explained. Violence and assault were their everyday experiences, drugs were omnipresent, and sex work was about the only work they could do. Even if they didn't have "homes," street queens "do live in the police system."

As a result of being policed and ostracized by their own gay peers, Newton felt that street queens were "dedicated to "staying out of it" as a way of life. "From their perspective, all of respectable society seems square, distant, and hypocritical. From their 'place' at the very bottom of the moral and status structure, they are in a strategic position to experience the numerous discrepancies between the ideals of American culture and the realities." Yet, however withdrawn or strung out they were perceived to be, the street queens were hardly afraid to act. On the contrary, they were regarded by many as the bravest and most combative in the gay world. In the summer of 1966, street queens in San Francisco fought back at Compton's Cafeteria, an all-night venue popular with sex workers and other poor gay people. After management had called the police on a table that was hanging out for hours ordering nothing but coffee, an officer grabbed the arm of one street queen. As the historian Susan Stryker recounts, that queen threw her coffee in the police officer's face, "and a melee erupted." As the queens led the patrons in throwing everything on their tables at the cops-who called for backup-a full-blown riot erupted onto the street. The queens beat the police with their purses "and kicked them with their high-heeled shoes." A similar incident was documented in 1959, when drag queens fought back against the police at Cooper's Donuts in Los Angeles by throwing donuts-and punches. How many more, unrecorded, times street queens fought back is anyone's guess. The most famous event came in 1969, when street queens led the Stonewall rebellion in New York City. Newton shares in Mother Camp that she wasn't surprised to learn it was the street queens who carried Stonewall. "Street fairies," she wrote, "have nothing to lose."

Jules Gill-Peterson, A Short History of Trans Misogyny

#reading #a short history of trans misogyny #transmisogyny #jules gill-peterson

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salemfrogtrials · 3 months

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before we go on with fantasy high I feel we all need to agree on something:

Kristen Chillis Applebees is not a bad person. She is not. She is 16? 17? She is a teenaged girl who was told her entire life to embrace a purpose she did not want and even as she was able to find her way out of a horrible cult she needed the security blanket of worship and complete devotion. As a teenager.

Kristen Applebees has done selfish things, she has made poor choices. But we as a fandom will not fall into hating teenaged girls for being young and searching for purpose because they haven't been told they can just be for a bit.

Kristen left her parents behind to end her cycle of abuse. We will not shame her for not being able to save her siblings at 14/15 years old.

I'm begging everyone, please be able to think critically about her. Understanding that she has done selfish and bad things does not mean we have to characterize her as a selfish and bad person.

#kristen applebees #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20

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finelinefae · 2 months

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tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time.

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves.

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed.

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another.

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was.

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter.

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond.

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk.

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time.

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday.

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age.

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade.

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her.

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?”

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb.

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.”

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.”

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to.

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?”

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.” He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured.

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,”

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.”

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words.

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter.

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time.

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise.

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves.

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn.

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on.

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.”

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her.

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically.

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book.

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.”

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside.

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.”

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.”

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered.

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time.

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart.

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad.

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,”

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement.

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her.

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully.

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom.

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them.

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning.

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it.

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom.

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached.

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak.

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class.

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door.

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly.

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well.

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.”

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class.

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said.

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist.

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed.

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her.

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly.

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked.

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite.

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly.

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.”

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic rec #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles writing #writing #fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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wonnieaura · 4 months

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GETTING INTO YOUR SOFT GIRL ERA

Your soft girl era is all about embracing your natural beauty, indulging in self-care, and connecting with nature. Here are the steps you can take to get into your soft girl era:

1. Practice self-care: Take the time to do things that make you feel relaxed and pampered. These can include taking a hot bath, doing a skincare routine, or drinking a warm cup of tea.

2. Focus on skincare: Soft girls believe in the importance of skincare and skincare products that are gentle on the skin. Invest in high-quality skincare products that are natural and contain ingredients like jojoba oil, hyaluronic acid, or rosehip oil.

3. Embrace your hair texture: Soft girls often have soft, wavy or curly hair that they let dry naturally or style in a sleek and understated way. Avoid heat and damaging hair products, and instead focus on giving your hair moisture and shine.

4. Choose a cozy and comfortable style: Soft girls often wear comfy and laid-back outfits, often accompanied by cozy sweaters and cardigans. They love comfortable shoes and prefer a more natural and minimal makeup look.

5. Connect with nature: Soft girls believe in the healing power of nature and often find ways to incorporate it into their day-to-day routine. Go for walks in nature, read a book in a park, and incorporate natural elements into your home decor.

6. Practice mindfulness: Soft girls prioritize self-care and believe in the importance of taking care of both their physical and mental health. Practice yoga, meditation, or journaling to reconnect with themselves.

7. Cultivate a positive mindset: Soft girls prioritize mental health and focus on cultivating a positive mindset. Practice positive thinking, gratitude, and learn to accept and appreciate who you are and what you have.

Remember, being a soft girl is all about embracing your natural looks and focusing on self-care and connecting with nature so do not put too much pressure on yourself. You deserve to live the best life 💕

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pucksandpower · 3 months

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Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

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iwanthermidnightz · 6 months

Text

When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.

How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.

You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.

It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.

Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.

But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.

There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.

I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.

I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.

I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.

It’s been waiting for you.

#taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #1989 tv #1989 tv prologue

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meangirls-imagines · 3 months

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl('s abs)

requested by @jjsmaybank20: "Hey! Can I request a Regina x reader fic where reader is on the soccer team and has serious muscles, including and, and Regina is like really attracted to that? And they end up having sex and Regina riders the readers abs?"

WARNINGS: 18+ only pls. ab riding. regina being a bottom. reader being kinda cocky.

"oh fuck, that feels so good."

pleasure shot through her body at each roll of her hips. blonde hair stuck to sweaty skin as tattooed hands guided gentle curves up and down the defined ridges of a taut abdomen.

regina george never saw herself ending up in this position. she was the apex predator, she was the queen. yet here she was, half-naked and riding the "badass" of north shore's abs like there was no tomorrow.

"god gina, you're so fucking pretty like this. keep going baby, use me." the blonde whimpered at the sound of y/n's voice, deep and sultry. god, what was this girl doing to her? y/n's tattooed hand moved from her hip, reaching back and grabbing a handful of regina's ass, squeezing.

regina threw her head back, moaning loudly. she began to grind faster, chasing her high. y/n smirked and allowed her to speed up for a few seconds, before grabbing her hips and slowing her down. regina whined, the high she was chasing slowly fading away.

"not yet baby. just a little longer." regina let out a frustrated groan as she began her movements again. she hated when y/n teased her. the blonde whimpered as her clit throbbed. she needed a release, and she needed it soon. y/n smirked at how desperate the blonde on top of her looked.

she knew regina needed to let go of the control she had. yes, she was the queen bee, but everyone needed to relinquish control sometimes. when her and regina started dating, it was hard for the blonde to relinquish her dominance.

but y/n helped her learn that she didn't need to be the queen bee behind closed doors. and everyone at north shore could see and feel a difference when regina walked through the halls now.

sweat began to drip down regina's forehead as she sped up her movements once again. she could feel her orgasm slowly building again as y/n began to kiss her neck. regina threw her head back, giving more access to the skin as y/n sucked marks into her neck. "my beautiful girl, you look so perfect right now. i bet you're just aching to cum aren't you? beg me for it baby."

regina began to ramble. "please y/n, i need to cum. it's been hours. i need it so badly baby. i'll do anything for you to make me cum." y/n smirked at how blissed out regina looked and sounded. she felt cocky that she was the only one who could make regina feel as good as she did right now.

feeling as if regina earned it, y/n leaned up and whispered in regina's ear.

"cum."

regina saw white. her ears were ringing with how hard she came. her legs shook and she let out a scream (y/n thanked everyone above that regina's mom was gone). regina had never cum so hard in her life. her limp body melted into y/n's embrace as the girl held her tight and whispered sweet nothings in the blonde's ear.

y/n had rolled over, laying regina down on her massive bed, getting up and grabbing a washcloth from her bathroom. returning to the bed, she continued whispering praise to the blonde as she gently cleaned her delicate area with the cloth, shushing whimpers from the girl.

feeling satisfied with her work, she grabbed some of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt for regina to wear, stripping down to her boxers and sports bra, before sliding under the covers next to the blonde.

instantly, regina nuzzled herself into y/n's side, burying her face in her neck. y/n smiled and kissed the blonde's forehead. "i love you gina. so fucking much." regina smiled against y/n's neck, mumbling sweet "i love you too" before slipping off into dreamland.

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls 2024 #mean girls imagines #regina george smut

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slutforln4 · 5 months

Text

ALL MINE

🖇️ in which your drunk best friend turns into something more, perhaps?

🖇️ request from a lovely anon! had to wreck my brain on how to write it haha. send in an ask to lmk how i did!

🖇️ warnings: 18+ MDNI !! this is an nsfw work. its also 3.1k words long...

🖇️ lando norris x reader

It’s nearly two a.m. when you get woken up by a spam of messages from none other than your best friend, Lando.

Lando: Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy

Lando: Could uou please come pcik me up?

Lando: I’n a bit drunk hahaha

You giggle at his misspelt messages and type up a quick reply as you tug on a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

You: Yeah, where are you?

Lando: You jnow the club with the huge dj table? The one I love?

You: Be there in 10.

Lando: thank youuuuu ❤️

It’s a little silly how a red heart emoji is making you blush. Lando’s always been affectionate over text and in real life, so it's really nothing new. But, what definitely is new, are the feelings you have for him.

It took you three years of friendship to realise that Lando makes you feel happier and more loved than any of your ex-boyfriends ever did. He was there for you during all the break-ups and comforted you by delivering roses to your house every week. And he still does.

You look over at this week’s bouquet of roses on the bedside table of the hotel and smile at the note. ‘Much love, Lando.’ It reads, with the sloppiest yet cutest heart you could imagine drawn underneath it.

Lando’s always been affectionate, but maybe more so when it comes to you.

Everyone else on the grid noticed the way he looked at you and he never denied it when they asked if he liked you more than just a friend. You’d sit in a corner of the garage, tucked away from all the chaos of the mechanics and the roaring engines, but you’d still watch the races intensely. And, he’d be lying if he said that he wasn't doing better with you there.

When you’re on the paddock, it's almost like you’re Lando’s good luck charm. He ends up getting high spots on the pole each time you join him on the races and watch from the side. Or maybe it was the thought that when he finished the races, you'd be there waiting for him with your arms wide open to embrace him in a hug that felt like it wasn't platonic at all. Neither of you are sure if it was.

The cold night air hits your cheeks as soon as you leave your car. Maybe it wasn't the best decision to wear sweats to a club, but it's not like you’d be there for long. You text Lando that you’re there and wait for him to read the message, but he doesn't. You text Oscar, he replies in an instant.

You: Hey, are you at the club with Lando?

Oscar: Yes, he’s been whining for you. Are you here?

You: Yeah, I’m outside the club actually. Could you please ask him to come outside?

Oscar: Give him 5 minutes to gather his stuff.

You: Alright, thank you.

You nervously clutch your phone in your hand as you lean against your car. Something feels different about tonight. Sure, you were at the race and saw him kick ass out there. Maybe it was the fact that he placed fifth and was beating himself up for it.

Back at the hotel, before he left for the club, he was ranting to you about everything he could’ve done differently.

“I’m stupid,” he sighed, sitting down on the bed next to you and placing his head in his hands. “Could’ve been P3.”

“Hey,” you softly caressed his back as you spoke. “You were amazing out there, truly. It wouldn't take a genius to notice the potential you have. This year just wasn't your year, you’ll do better next season.”

By the end of your speech, Lando had pulled you into his lap and softly caressed your hair as you played with his. “You’re right.” He smiled, fondly. “I’ll do better next season, because I have such an amazing girl like you by my side, hm?” He softly caressed your cheek and you nodded, smiling at him.

Your thoughts get cut off by the sound of Lando and Oscar talking as they leave the club. “Mate, I’m fineeee,” you heard Lando speak. He had an arm around Oscar’s shoulders to keep steady, yet was practically carried by Oscar the whole time.

“No, you’re not, you can barely walk.” You see Oscar roll his eyes as he helps Lando get to you. When Lando’s glossy eyes land on you, he grins.

“Y/N!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you. You reciprocate the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling the familiar scent of your best friend. As intoxicating as it is, you manage to pull away slightly. “Why didn't you come inside? Max was downing shots like craaaazyyyyy”

“Maybe next time,” you laugh.

Lando pulls away and turns to Oscar. “This guy,” he points to him, causing a confused look on Oscar’s face. “He’s the real champ.” Lando laughs, wobbling over to Oscar. “Great job, mate. I’m very jealous and upset, but you did so great.”

“You also did really great, Lando.” Oscar smiles at Lando, “McLaren said you’ve had a great impact on the team.”

“Aw, really?” Lando grins and it warms your heart. “That’s so sweet. Listen, I will catch you later, I got a pretty girl I gotta get to, alright?”

Oscar nods and locks eyes with you, noticing the slight blush on your face at Lando’s words. “Alright, mate. Night.” He says to the both of you.

“Night, Oscar,” you and Lando reply in union and he laughs. You open the passenger door for him and he gets in, but instead of buckling up, he just sits there. “Buckle up, Lan.”

“Sleepy,” is all he says. You roll your eyes and smile at his laziness before reaching over and buckling him up. You have to try your best and ignore how his face is so close to your neck, and how you’re so close to his neck. The button-up he wore today was half-way to being fully unbuttoned and the mere glimpse of his exposed chest made you weak in the knees. “You smell nice.”

“Thanks, Lan.” You smile and start the car, driving back towards the hotel. There’s an unexpected silence in the car and you can feel Lando’s gaze on you. After looking at the rear-view mirror and seeing just how red he made you, you pray he’s too drunk to tell.

You feel his gentle tug on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This mine?”

You look down and realise you did, in fact, put on Lando’s sweatshirt instead of your own. “Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry. Probably mixed yours up with mine.”

“No, it's alright,” he hums. “Looks better on you. I like you in my clothes.”

You’re sure that if Lando wasn't wasted right now, he’d be giving you so much shit for being a flustered mess. But you can't help it when he’s being so sweet to you.

The hotel comes into view and you look over at Lando. He was already looking at you. “We’re here.”

He unfastens his seatbelt and opens the door, before making his way around the car to open your door. Even though he’s drunk, he remembers the little things he does for you. You’ve told him multiple times that he doesn't have to do that, you’re fully capable of opening your own door, but he persists.

Lando’s hand reaches out to help you get out of the car and the warmth of his palm in yours sends sparks through your body. He seems to notice it, but says nothing about it. Yet you notice the slight smirk on his face.

He seems to be less drunk than when he was with Oscar. He walks just fine without needing to support himself on you, but regardless, he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you into the hotel.

“Don’t you need help walking?” You laugh, slightly, as you remind him of what he was like only ten minutes ago.

“Nope,” Lando shrugs, reciprocating the smile on your lips. “Had to pretend to be very wasted so I’d have a reason to leave. I’m still a little tipsy, though.”

“And Oscar bought it?”

Lando can't help but laugh at the memory of Oscar practically dragging him out of the club. “Yeah, apparently he’s very gullible.”

You smile, looking at Lando’s face and studying every feature. The moles on his cheek and neck have always been your favourite feature of his. You love drawing shapes on his skin, as if you were connecting the dots. And that smile of his... The sight of it made you melt.

The elevator dings at your floor and Lando leads both of you towards your room. For some reason, you grow nervous. You’re nervous that this affection won’t be there when he sobers up in the morning, so you’re dreading every second until you go to sleep.

“Did you like the roses?” He asks, setting his stuff down on his bedside table.

You look over at him and smile. “Loved them. Thank you.”

“No need,” he’s quick to shut down your thanks. “I told you, you deserve it.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been sending me roses every week for months now,” you tug off your sweatshirt and get dressed for bed. Lando watches. “I don't do things like that for you, it makes me feel like it's unfair.”

“It's not unfair,” he lays down in the bed, watching as you carefully take off his sweats and place them in your suitcase. “It’s what friends do.”

“Is it?” You ask with a small smirk, getting into the bed. “Do friends also share a bed?”

“If it's cheaper, yeah.” He references the prices of the hotel and how expensive it would’ve been if you had gotten a room with two beds instead of one.

You look at him with a soft smile. “You’re rich enough to afford a bigger hotel room.”

“Are you complaining about sharing a bed?” Lando raises a brow, playfully. You shake your head. “Alright, then come here,” he raises his arm and invites you to cuddle with him. Again, not the first time you’ve done that, but something about this time feels different.

There’s something different about you when you lay your head on his chest and something different about him when he wraps his arm around you. It’s a lot more gentle. Maybe more loving?

Lando wonders the same. “Do you think friends cuddle?”

You can tell it's his tipsiness talking, but still, you reply. “Yeah, all the time.”

You feel his chest rise with a sigh. Lando’s not sure what he wants you to say. Maybe he’s looking for a reason not to be platonic with you. Maybe he’s looking for things that you two do that aren't considered platonic. Though, many would consider this not platonic. The way he’s wrapped around you is incredibly loving, if anything.

Neither of you are sure when you started doing not-so-platonic platonic things, but you’ve been enjoying it. The occasional nicknames, forehead kisses, hugs that last longer than they should, cuddles, longing stares across a crowded room.

Somehow, you always manage to find each other, even in a sea of others.

“Lando,” you look up at him and notice he was already looking at you. You’re not sure what you want to say to him. There’s so much to say, yet so little comes to mind. One look at him and all your thoughts, even the most coherent ones, become a jumbled mess.

Lando presses a kiss into your hairline. “Hm?”

You don't answer for a while. The hand that was resting draped across his torso slowly trails up to his jaw. Your fingers trace his jawbone and trail up to his moles, playing connect the dots with each and every one of them. Lando’s breathing became more jagged when your thumb traced his bottom lip.

As your hand cups the right side of his jaw, you ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

That’s all that it took. The soft plea that left Lando’s soft lips urged you to gently place your own against his. You don't move at first. He doesn't either. Your lips stay touching but neither of you move, either too scared of being pushy or too scared to take it too far.

Lando’s the first one to initiate any movement. His lips start moving against yours and your lips copy. It doesn't take long for you to find a good rhythm. Everyone always says you two were made for each other, and this was the moment you realised it’s true.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and his hands travel to your waist. There’s nothing awkward about this, you somehow already know what to do and how to act in a way that’s far from your usual ‘platonic’ acts.

When you softly tug on his hair as you deepen the kiss, Lando whimpers into your mouth and it might be your favourite sound. “Touch me,” he says, under his breath.

Your hand trails down from his hair, down his back, making sure to softly caress it as it reaches the hemline of his boxers. Your hand softly runs over his side, making his skin erupt in goosebumps. “Still ticklish, Norris?” You smile against his lips.

“Mhm,” he replies, his hands pulling your hips to roll against his. You feel his erection pressing onto your pelvis, making the ache in the pit of your stomach worse. “Now stop teasing me.”

The hunger in his voice makes you quicken your movements. You place your hand over his clothed erection and when you wrap your hand around it, a small moan leaves his lips. You’ve barely touched him, yet he’s a moaning mess in your hands.

Your lips press onto his harsher as you begin palming him through his boxers. There’s barely any stimulation happening to his cock, but the mere thought of you being the one to touch him like this, makes him more sensitive to any kind of physical contact with you. He wants to savour and feel every last ounce of your attention tonight, because he’s not sure what this means for your friendship afterwards.

You wrap your hand around his cock and apply some pressure when you stroke him. He’s a moaning mess, softly whimpering as you bite his bottom lip. It takes a few more strokes until you can tell he’s close, so you pull away.

Lando’s confused eyes lock with yours only to realise you’re unclasping your bra and tugging off your panties. He does the same and drops his boxers on the floor, his erection hitting his abdomen with a soft slap. It’s almost like Lando can read your mind when he lays on his back and places his hands on your waist as you sit on his thighs, not daring to take him.

“You scared?” He asks, softly. You knew he had some length, but it didn't seem that long through swimming trunks or boxers. Not to mention the intimidating combo of length and girth Lando seems to be blessed with. When you nod, he slowly flips you over to lay on your back. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He places a small kiss on your forehead and you feel his hand reaching down to your pussy, a finger slipping between the folds. “So wet for me.” Lando mumbles against your lips. You feel him lining the tip up with your entrance, but he doesn't move it past that.

Lando keeps it there as he softly kisses you, his lips trailing your jaw, neck, collarbone. He leaves small bites and hickeys, earning enough moans from you to last him months of remembering this moment for when he needs you again.

When you whimper into Lando’s mouth, your hips jolting closer to what you want, Lando smirks. “You want it, hm? You want me to fuck you dumb, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against his lips. “Please.”

You feel him pushing his cock into you, the size of it stretching your walls in a way you couldn't have ever imagined. A slow moan leaves your lips and he’s only halfway in.

“Taking me so well, aren't you?” He kisses your neck, licking a spot before softly sinking his teeth into your tender skin. It hurts but fuck, does it feel good. Lando pushes his whole length into you with a short thrust and you gasp at the sudden feeling of him hitting your cervix.

“Lando,” you call out when he slowly pulls out and slowly thrusts back in. “Fuck.”

“You can take it, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, as he pulls out slowly again. This time, his thrust is more aggressive. You feel him slowly speeding up, your moans only increasing in frequency. The shape of his cock and the way he stretches your walls makes your mind go dizzy.

Lando trails kisses down your chest, placing as many hickeys as possible. He wants to make sure you remember tonight. He wants to make sure both of you have a reminder of what happened for days to come.

“Such a good girl,” he lowly hums into your neck, resting his head against your shoulder as his tongue swirls and licks the skin between your collar and jaw. “Pretty pussy all stretched out for me.”

“Fuck,” you squeeze your eyelids shut at the new feeling Lando praising you.

“You like that?” He smirks against your jaw. “Does my pretty girl like praise?”

“Say that again,” you urge him, your hands frantically moving from his hair to his jaw to pull him in for a sloppy kiss. “Tell me I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, baby,” he kisses your lips, his thrusts beginning to turn sloppy. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you affirm against his lips, feeling your own orgasm approaching. “Fuck, Lando. Keep going.”

“You gonna come for me, huh, baby?” He says between his strained moans, his hips slapping against yours as both of you nearing your highs. “C’mon.”

“I’m about to-” your sentence is cut off by a loud moan when Lando’s hand slips between your bodies to find your clit. He starts rubbing the throbbing bud in circles, applying pressure from time to time.

“I’m right there with you, baby, let go.” He kisses you again and again, slowly slipping away to nuzzle his head into your shoulder when both of you moan in pleasure. You feel his warmth spread inside you and he’s sure he’s never felt anything like this before.

He thrusts the cum into you before pulling out and flopping on his back. Both of you are a sweaty mess, still kissing. After a short while, Lando gets up to go get a towel and clean both of you up, and you change the sheets before laying back down.

“So…” your head rests on his chest when you begin to talk. You look up at him, worry slowly filling up your system.. “Still glad you left the party?”

Lando laughs. “There's no place I’d rather be.”

#formula one fanfic #formula one #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula one imagine

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comatosebunny09 · 10 months

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kindle | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, mutual pining, soft boi leon, stream of consciousness

Leon does these things that confuse the hell out of you while you’re on missions or around the office. You’re his partner—work partner—but sometimes you feel like a little more. More than the younger sibling caught beneath the shadow of an overbearing brother.

You don’t really know where things are going because he’s made it glaringly obvious in the past that he doesn't mix work with pleasure. However, something’s clearly shifted in your relationship as of late. Yet, you can’t, for the life of you, pinpoint what it is or when it happened.

Oftentimes, you catch him gazing at you in your peripheral, a fondness inhabiting his eyes like you’ve never seen with the slightest quirk to his lips. That softness remains when a battle-worn thumb swipes blood from your cheek or rubs grime from your jaw.

Sometimes, he holds your chin between his fingers and tilts your head this way and that—much to your chagrin—to make sure you’re devoid of injuries. Though, you never miss how his irises glitter like the sunset against sea waves, and his lips part a little as he relinquishes the softest, most relieved sigh to the air. And sometimes, you stand like this for eons, confused yet enamored, until the wet garble of a zombie springs you two apart.

You never miss how a cautious hand finds the small of your back while you’re hunched over paperwork at your desk. How it burns through the thickness of your blazer, causing your heart to work overtime. And Leon beams so boyishly, bowing over to swaddle you in his warmth and cologne as he quips how “you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Yet, as much as he hates filling out reports himself, he stays until the moon sits high in the sky to help you finish.

He always walks you to your car afterwards, arguing that, shit yeah, you can handle yourself. You suplex the undead for a living. But he’d fling himself off a cliff if his dear partner got snatched up in the parking garage. And he always lingers around a little longer after you pull off, a tender smile cresting across his lips in your rearview mirror.

But he’s your partner. He’s supposed to do things like that, right?

Like, he’s supposed to bring you food when you forget to eat—which is quite often. He’s supposed to show up to your apartment to check on you on your days off, promising his company, booze, and terrible romcoms. Supposed to hold you in your bed until you surrender your consciousness to the pretty little girls of slumber. And maybe, just maybe, it’s standard for your partner to kiss you quietly behind your ear and embrace you tighter when you squirm and chuckle and sigh wistfully in your sleep.

Through the wispy haze and the grogginess and the darkness inhabiting your bedroom, you shift to gather his cheeks in your palms—maybe you’re awake. Perhaps you’re still lurking below the shadowy depths of sleep. Who knows—and you kiss him. Cautious, but you kiss him. And though he’s initially thrown off kilter by the suddenness of it all, he relaxes against the suppleness of your lips. And his brows furrow as if he’s waited millennia for this moment. And his throat crackles with a quieted, hoarse sound as his hands perch on your hips, drawing you ever closer until your wrists cross behind his neck, and—

And…

Well, this is totally normal. Right?

part 2 >>

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil 4 x reader #re4 x reader #leon drabble #leon kennedy drabble #just musing #leon fluff #leon kennedy fluff #tw: language #cw: reader insert #kindle series

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gatheringbones · 6 months

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[“It was only after I came out as a dyke that, for the first time in my life, I felt ready to celebrate being a girl, and I did. Actually, I overdid. Armed with Esther Newton’s Mother Camp, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, and Joan Nestle’s A Restricted Country, I embraced femme. I dressed up in short flowery dresses, pushup bras, satin panties, and lacy stockings. I paid great attention to my long, curly, perfectly-coiffed hair, my glamorous makeup, and especially my pouty lips. I spritzed Lola’s smell on my skin—Estee Lauder’s Private Collection—and painted my nails. I wore all of it with black combat boots and a brilliant sense of irony. I reveled in my girliness, went over the top, learned how to tweeze my eyebrows and line my lips with a lip pencil.

My gender presentation was unmistakable: blatant female sexuality. I was a proud, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners, uppity, don’t-assume-I’m-straight-because-I-wear-lipstick-and-dresses femme dyke. Because femmes are always assumed to be straight or sleeping with men, and I do sleep with men, I made sure to always have a butch on my arm so I’d be read as femme. Even though I was sure I’d be mistaken for straight, the boys took one look at me and steered clear. It was as if I was too much of a woman for them to handle, like I was a handful, and I was. But butch girls love a handful—a handful of tits, a handful of ass, a girl who needs to be handled, a girl who can handle herself.

How I figured out I was a femme had a lot to do with the women I was attracted to and the dynamic between us. When I was in junior high, I used to mess around with a friend of mine named Angela. Angela was one of those girls who developed early; I remember she had big breasts in like sixth grade. We mostly kissed and touched over clothes, and we played out various boy-girl scenarios. I was always the girl—my early femme roots. My favorite of all our little scenes was the one where she was my male boss and I was the secretary. The boss made me have sex with him and told me if I didn’t I would get fired. Now this was all before Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill and the media awareness/obsession with sexual harassment. I remember she’d tell me to suck her dick and push my face unmercifully into her crotch, which smelled amazing,. The drama of it all—the force, the degradation, the power games—really got me off. After that, there was no going back to simplicity. I was hooked on the power.

Jen really epitomized all the girls I was attracted to then and still am. Being with a butch girl, I was valued for my combination of strength and vulnerability, for dressing up, for wanting an arm to hold onto, hips to wrap my legs around, being able to give my body over to her and say, I trust you, I’m yours. My butch loved me in low-cut dresses, appreciated my sexual voraciousness, worshipped my inner slut. I reveled in the fact that I could be strong and submissive all at once. Surrender and still be a feminist. Being a dyke is not just about who I fuck and love, it’s about being a girl who doesn’t play by the rules.

Butch girls don’t play by the rules either, and I love butch girls. Girls with hair so short you can barely slide it between two fingers to hold on. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts and shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger. Girls who have dicks made of flesh and silicone and latex and magic. Girls who get stared at in the ladies room, girls who shop in the boy’s department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been touching my body their entire lives. Girls who have big cocks, love blow-jobs, and like to fuck girls hard. Every day, it is the girls that get called Sir that make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws that buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender that make me want to lie down for them.

Someone else said it about me recently and it’s right on target: “She gets off on all different sorts of people sexually, but she falls for butches.” Like the poet who bought her first strap-on with me and then wanted to sleep with it on. The shrink-in-training who got harassed every time she drove down South. She did look so much like a fifteen-year-old boy: blue button-down shirts, neatly-combed blond hair. The ad exec who had names for her dildos and used to love for me to spit-shine her wingtips. The photographer whose face was so mannish she could pass almost anywhere. The writer who wanted a body like Loren Cameron’s. The telephone repairwoman who drove a truck. The cook who had a boy’s name. The academic who got cruised by gay men on Castro Street. The cornfed farmboy from the Heartland with arms so hard and strong you swear they’ve been working the land, not the iron at the gym.

And there’s the one who’s got the James Dean stare down, and dresses like a clean-cut fag, and looks at me like she could look at me forever and never blink or grow tired or move from the spot she’s in. She’s a girl who loves girls like me—girls in velvet bras, girls who want to surrender to her mouth. She’s a girl who isn’t afraid to throw a femme down on the bed and fuck her. Possess her. My kind of girl. This girl is different.”]

tristan taormino, from this girl is different, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#tristan taormino #bi literature #gender stuff #femme #currently reading #terra preta

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wileys-russo · 2 days

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Ingrid engen, locker room, “how do you manage to look so good”

celebrations II i.engen

you gripped jana's hand tightly as the minutes wound down past the allocated injury time, now just waiting the whistle to blow as everyone stood, both you and the younger girl on your right near breaking one anothers hands with the hold you had.

"blow it!" you yelled in frustration as another minute ticked by, a chorus of the same words echoing out from the bench as the mountain of chelsea fans boo'd behind you but it was all just white noise at this point.

until finally, the whistle.

errupting in cheers all of you on the subs bench, coaches and staff included, sprinted onto the pitch to hug the eleven on the field, ignoring the symphony of jeers and boo's from the home fans around you.

none of it mattered, barcelona had done it for the fourth year in a row, you were all off to the champions league final.

you laughed as cata lifted you, screaming to the high heavens as you joined in, dropped back down and embracing her in a tight hug before moving onto several of your other teammates, a scarf wrapped around your neck at some point.

"vi gjorde det!" you screamed as you launched at your national teammate, frido hugging the life out of you with a happy yell as you rambled at one another in swedish, faces near breaking in half from the happy grins plastered to them.

"i think you are forgetting one very special person älska." frido laughed, spinning you around and shoving you in the opposite direction as your eyes locked with bright green ones that twinkled happily.

you sprinted to close the gap between you both, your girlfriend bracing knowing what was to come as you jumped at her, legs wrapping around her waist and arms around her neck as she laughed and nearly stumbled over given you were barely half a head shorter.

"you did it." you whispered into her neck. "we did it." the norweigan corrected, kissing your cheek and holding you tightly for a moment more before settling you carefully down on your feet.

"i am so proud of you ingrid." you promised softly, the roar and cheering around you fading to a dull buzz as if the two of you were the only ones around, trapped in your little bubble as your girlfriend smiled.

"i am so proud of us." the brunette corrected making you roll your eyes. "stop that! take a compliment for once sötsaker." you bumped your shoulder into hers. "thank you kjærlighet." she smiled, your thumbs tracing her jawline for a moment before a body jumped onto your back and you were both jolted back into group celebrations.

the entire hour you were on the pitch celebrating the two of you hovered close, never out of one anothers sights and never more than a couple of feet away, until eventually things were wrapped up and you all headed back to the locker room.

bottles popped and music filled the small room as celebrations never dimmed, everyone hurrying to shower and change as to be back on the bus in time and back to the hotel for the evening where no doubt the good mood would only grow.

sprinting ahead you were one of the first in the showers, you'd played the first sixty minutes and then been subbed off but soaking wet from the rain the way your uniform clung to you was driving you near mad so a hot shower was first on your list.

to your surprise when you returned dressed in warm and thankfully dry clothes your girlfriend was still sat chattering away with aitana and frido, not even having taken her boots off yet as you smiled with a shake of your head.

seeing you return aitana was quick to race off hoping to claim her own spot in a shower, frido chatting with the pair of you before her attention was turned away and then it was just you and your norweigan.

"how do you manage to look so good." you stated suddenly as the girl raised an eyebrow at you curiously. "played the whole game, wet and sweaty and tired, but you've never looked more beautiful." you spoke sincerely, watching with a smile as her cheeks flushed red.

"flørte." the girl smacked you gently with her shin pad as you laughed and sat down beside her, grabbing out her clothes for her as she wrestled to get her wet socks off.

"ingrid!" you gasped as she slapped you in the head with them with a grin, shoving her playfully away from you. "i tell you that you look beautiful and you smack with me wet smelly socks, i could do so much better." you sighed with a shake of your head.

"hey!" your girlfriend pouted making your lips tug into a smile as you leaned in to sweetly kiss it away, her hand on the back of your head keeping you there for a few seconds longer before at the sound of wolf whistles you broke away.

blushing you threw your shoe at patri who ducked and made kissy faces at you before bruna tapped her in the back of the knee sending her stumbling and sending you a grin before taking off as patri charged after her.

"go and shower, we need to be on the bus in fifteen minutes so no washing your hair!" you warned as the norweigan rolled her eyes. "its fine, we will shower again tonight." the taller girl shrugged collecting what she needed as you gave her a curious look.

though at the one she gave back you suddenly realized what she was insinuating as your face warmed and she chuckled. "i love you." she promised, pecking your lips a few times before finally going to shower.

"i love you!" jana mocked making kissy faces as you raised an eyebrow and your other remaining shoe and she backed off with her hands held high in a silent surrender.

"hola bruna, help me hide patri's stuff while she showers!"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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ophelisstuff · 12 days

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𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐍 | P.B x reader

authors notes : i know absolutely nothing about cheerleading or cheer comps. But I hope you enjoyed

requested by : anon

paige bueckers x competitive cheerleader reader

warnings : none

word count : 1.1k

best suited in dark mode !

You sighed and walked into Paige’s apartment tiredly. exhausted from the numerous hours spent practicing with your teammates.

With All Star Worlds right around the corner, you had been at the gym practicing with your team almost every day.

Leaving you fatigue and eager to go home and be held in Paige’s warm embrace. Desperate to listen to her voice as you fell asleep in her arms.

Throwing your cheer practice bag on the floor by the entrance, you shut the door and walked further into the apartment. The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway seconds after the door had closed

Immediately coming from around the corner to greet you, it seemed as if the blonde had been waiting impatiently for your arrival.

A grin on her face as her hand trailed down to your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Paige finally felt at peace, having you in her embrace after going all day without seeing you.

“Hi baby, how was cheer practice?” She asked, her hand remaining on your waist as she smiled ear to ear.

“It was so exhausting” She began, the blondes eyes focused on you — giving you all of her attention. “Coach lectured us about how we can’t lack energy on stage like we do at practice.”

Paige laughed, a wide grin on her face. “You know, I could totally be a competitive cheerleader. if i wanted to” She spoke confidently “Just without the flips n’ shit, that’s way out of my category”

The blonde often times begged you to teach her your routines. Determined to learn them no matter how complicated they were.

Always having you seated on the living room couch, showcasing the steps you taught her proudly. Even daring to showcase and teach her teammates the steps as well.

Deeming herself as your Biggest Fan, which you never doubted whatsoever. The girl always showed up at your competitions and always helped you get ready. Explaining that she wouldn’t optionally miss any of them for the world.

Even when her games fell on the day of your competitions, Paige would always facetime you and watch as you got get ready through the screen. Wishing you luck and having a bouquet of flowers waiting when you returned home.

“Keep it up and Coach might just make you my replacement.” You laughed at your girlfriend, walking past her and making your way to the bedroom — looking through dresser drawers for a pair of pajamas.

“Oh! are we taking a shower?” Paige asked, her attention drifting away from the cheer topic as she watched you lay out the pajamas. Consisting of her hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts.

Walking over to the dresser as well, the blonde began picking out new pajamas to put on. Despite knowing she had showered less than an hour ago.

“No, I’m taking a shower — you already showered” You told Paige, walking into the bathroom. The girl trailing behind you like a lost puppy in disbelief.

“That is not fair! Another shower won’t hurt anyone!” Paige exclaimed, walking into the bathroom with you as she sat on the bathroom countertop.

“I’m hot and sweaty, i’ll be out soon” You promised your girlfriend, placing a kiss on her cheek as you turned the shower temperature on cold.

“I can cool you off better than the shower can.” She muttered beneath her breath, rolling her eyes as she exited the bathroom.

▏cheer comp day !

“Paige! I said high ponytail, not low ponytail!” You exclaimed, taking the elastic out of your hair as you looked back at your girlfriend who stood behind you. Holding the look of a stressed and confused mom.

“Well I don’t even do my own hair, you do!” Paige spoke as she opened safari, googling what a high ponytail looked like.

Acting as if she had never seen the hairstyle in her life. Forgetting the fact you had to wear one during nearly every competition.

Hair products, makeup and a wide array of other items laid out on the stand connected to the mirror. You watched as Paige sprayed unnecessary amounts of hairspray on your hair. Setting the phone down as she started the style over.

“Okay wait, I remember this now!” Paige exclaimed as she brushed your hair upwards. You slowly beginning to wish you’d hadn’t agreed to her doing you hair.

The blonde spent the entire car ride pleading to help you get ready, specifically asking to help do your hair and watch you do the required makeup.

Unable to say no, you eventually gave into the girl’s pleads. Allowing her to mess with your hair until she successfully pulled it into tight high ponytail. “Got it!” She beamed, grabbing the navy blue bow that was covered with sparkles. Placing it front and center as it normally was.

Quickly doing a light face of makeup with the help of your girlfriend, Paige gave you the occasional time check — letting you know how much longer you had until it was time to preform.

When it came down to competitions, Paige acted like an over the top cheer mom. Always making sure to be on time and making sure everything was going the way it was supposed to.

Making sure all your bags were packed the night before and even loading them into the car that same night. The blonde didn’t mess around when it came to cheer competitions. Always making sure there was no room for anything to go wrong.

Standing up in your shimmery, navy blue cheer costume with the word ‘Uconn’ engraved in a cursive font on the front. Paige embraced you one last time before you had to preform.

“I love you, and you’re gonna do so well” She smiled, wrapping her arms around your waist as she whispered the words of affection to you. Wanting to make sure you carried her support during the performance.

“I love you too. And you’re gonna be in the audience watching, right?” You questioned out of nervousness, looking up at her as you broke the hug.

“I always am and always will be” Paige reassured, watching as your other teammates made their way out of the dressing room.

You smiled at the girl and nodded, hurrying behind the others. Thinking about how lucky you were to have Paige in your life.

Her being someone who brought nothing but positive memories, treating you like a piece of fine china and always offering unconditional support.

Always showing up whenever you needed her the most, and being the first person you always spotted in the audience — cheering at the top of her lungs.

It was safe to say that Paige Bueckers really was your Number One fan.

authors note

i’m so so so sorry if this was bad! I actually have zero knowledge when it comes to competitive cheer. But I hope you enjoy !! Requests are open too !

#anon ask #anon <3 #paige bueckers x reader #paigebueckers #competitive cheer #wlw #uconn huskies #collegebasketballplayerxreader

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megu-meow · 7 months

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how I met your mother - Gojo Satoru

dad!Gojo x fem.reader

Summary: I recently found out that many TV series and other Manga/Anime are canon in JJK - How I Met Your Mother included - and I couldn't stop thinking about how Gojo would re-enact the thing after watching it. Moreover, all of you deserve some teeth-rotting fluff after that horrifying manga chapter. Enjoy!

"Why am I here?" Megumi asked with irritation laced through his voice as he sat down on the couch, beside the two white-haired rascals he calls his siblings.

"I'm gonna tell you guys the story of how I met your mother!" Gojo exclaims as he sits on his desk chair, in his office at Jujutsu Tech. The desk usually sits in the corner, right beside the window, but now is pushed in front of the couch, so that he can sit face to face with his children, the setup similar to the one in his recent favorite American TV show, How I Met Your Mother. The only difference is that the whole scenario is not played in his home office, but the one at his actual workplace, because you declared your home a Jujutsu-Free Zone.

"Gojo-Sensei..." Megumi sighs as he starts rubbing his forehead with annoyance "I was five when the two of you got together, I heard the story of how you two met a million times, this is not new to me." he explains as three sets of cerulean blue eyes gawk at him from all directions.

"Mama..." the two-year-old girl sitting on Megumi's left puffs with a ridiculously adorable pout on her face as soon as she hears the mention of her mother, and the five-year-old boy on the other side of the couch whiffs the air aggressively with the plush sword his father was forced to buy him on their way to the school.

"I know, Megumi, but this is a special occasion, you're gonna sit through the whole thing again so that you can experience this amazing fairytale with your beloved siblings." the tall sorcerer explains and his attention turns to his beloved daughter, Munchkin as he refers to her. The little girl slowly climbs into Megumi's lap, the boy instinctively helping her settle down as he embraces her lightly from behind, tickling her sides, and the room is filled with childish laughter. His son, or as he refers to him, Nugget, drops the toy from his tiny hands and huffs in annoyance, suddenly jealous of his sister's ability to gain the undivided attention of his favorite person, his older brother. "Now, all of you pay attention."

It was his first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Given his extravagant upbringing, Gojo Satoru was a self-centered douchebag with a horrible attitude. He first met Geto Suguru, the only friend he ever claimed he had, the dark-haired sorcerer with a warm smile and polite demeanor, the polar opposite of him. The two formed an unbearable duo and as soon as you walked into the classroom with the three first-year students, four months after the school year began, you knew you had to keep yourself as far away from the boys as possible. You became good friends with Shoko though, the two of you had plenty of common interests and your personalities were similar as well.

You tried avoiding Gojo at all times, you thought he was irritating based on his behavior in class and his rude comments behind your back, ones he whispered to Geto, making your dark-haired classmate laugh obnoxiously. However, Your efforts to stay as far away from him were proven to be useless when Yaga paired the two of you for a mission.

"So, why is a clan princess like you avoiding the strongest sorcerer of her time? Didn't your family tell you about the power and influence my family holds over the jujutsu society?" he asks you cockily and you chuckle dismissively at his words.

"I'm not a clan princess, Gojo! On the contrary... I come from a family of non-sorcerers and I was an outcast my whole life because I kept seeing things that others couldn't." you said as you kept hitting the curse with sharp daggers that you wielded in the air with your cursed technique "And I don't care about your power or your privilege, because I'm only here to help others." you make your point even clearer as you throw your last dagger with extra force, exorcising the curse without breaking a sweat.

"And that was the moment..." Gojo begins to explain to his overly bored children, but Megumi interrupts him.

"... when you realized you wanted to pursue the only girl that ever gave you attitude, a.k.a. Y/n. We know, it's getting boring."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Megumi! This is an amazing story about the two people that raised you. Show some respect!" Satoru exclaims with an offended expression and Munchkin hides her face in her tiny hands, thinking that she is the one who is being scolded, trying to hide from her father's light-hearted attempt at discipline.

"Papa, can we have Splendid Sushi?" the white-haired boy asks, boredom evident from his facial expression.

"Nugget, you just ate before we came here." Satoru pouts, clearly disappointed in his kids.

"I know, I'm still hungry."

"I'm gonna wrap this story up quickly and we can go eat after." he gives in, a sad expression on his face.

After that moment you shared on your mission, Gojo changed. He was still annoying and arrogant, but he tried acting like a decent human being around you. In one instance Suguru explained that the remarks they exchanged with each other were making fun of Yaga-Sensei, not you. He felt the need to clarify that after Satoru complained to him about how much you seemed to hate his guts.

These things shed a different light on Gojo, you noticed how he was very attentive when it came to the small details you shared about yourself when the four of you first years were hanging out. He also ensured that you got home safe whenever you went out as a group and he even gave you his jacket so that you wouldn't catch a cold.

He also started complimenting you, your looks, your advancement with your technique, and he thoroughly enjoyed how you blushed every time he called you sweetheart or any other nickname he came up with on the spot. However, you were stubborn, even more challenging than some curses he fought.

"I'm gonna wife you up one day, sweet girl! Even if it's the last thing I do." he whispers into your ear as your head is resting on his shoulder while you're being driven home by an auxiliary assistant from a challenging mission. He thought you were sleeping, but you could hear his muffled words and your lips curled into a slight smile. Because Satoru was good, kind-hearted, and loving in his dorky, obnoxious way.

"Papa, where is Mama?" Munchkin asks with tears in her eyes, clearly distressed from the long period of time she had to endure without her Mama. And the only thing Satoru can do is get up from his chair, walk towards his little baby and embrace her with his strong and bulky arms, trying to comfort her, because he knows exactly how terrible it feels being away from you. He coos at her lovingly, kissing her chubby cheeks and he sits back down to continue with his story. He also puts out his hand, using blue to fetch a pink fluffy blankie he keeps in his office. Megumi rolls his eyes at this, he finds it annoying how Gojo uses his techniques so unnecessarily.

A month after Satoru's not-so-secret confession, at Nanami Kento's birthday party, it happens. Your first kiss. For the most part, the party goes terribly for both of you. He is standing in a corner, drinking seltzers orange soda furiously as he observes how a third-year is trying to hit on you with cringey pick up lines that make Gojo want to throw up. You seem uncomfortable with his advances, but Satoru doesn't intervene, because he has no right to. You two are not dating, you are just very close friends. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. However, as that idiot steps closer to you and you try to bring an end to his flirting, Satoru observes the deep discomfort in your eyes and the twirling of your hands, trying to wield some glass shards with your technique from the broken bottle spilled onto the floor. He decides to intervene, and with a single clap of his hands, he's beside you, his fingers slip into yours, stopping you from using your technique, knowing that using it without permission on school grounds could get you in trouble. The third-year leaves instantly once Gojo arrives and there you stand in front of the white-haired sorcerer with thankful eyes.

"Thank you, Satoru!" you say and from the many shots of sake cups of tea you had, you gain a newfound courage within you to get on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Or so you think, because in the last moment, he turns his head and your lips land on his. It's a short kiss, basically a peck, but the sobering reality of the consequences of your actions hits you like a train.

"I'm sorry, that was a mistake..." you mutter and you run out of the party, leaving him there disappointed.

After that, you don't talk to each other for two weeks. Gojo tries in the beginning, but you stop all of his attempts because you are too ashamed of your actions. After a while he becomes petty himself, claiming that it's for the better and saying the two of you wouldn't have lasted in the first place. He does it in the usual Gojo fashion, making sure that you hear every word leaving his mouth. He wants you to hurt just as much as he is, but as soon as he spots the puffy, red circles under your eyes, he regrets ever being mean towards you.

"Dada, why you make Mama cry?" the toddler in his lap looks at him curiously, her lips in a pout, clearly disappointed with her father.

"Hey! That's not true, Mama made me cry first, Munchkin."

"You never cried in your life, Gojo." Megumi intervenes and if Satoru could kill with his Six Eyes, he would annihilate the Fushiguro kid right now.

"Is the story over, Papa? You said we'd go to Splendid Sushi after." Nugget whines once again and Satoru knows he has to finish up soon, otherwise, his son is going to throw a tantrum.

Satoru rushes into the medical ward upon hearing the news. You went out on a mission alone and you were brought back by Yaga himself, on a stretcher. He doesn't know any more details than that, but he's frantic. As soon as he spots you on one of the disgustingly hard hospital beds, being treated by Shoko with blood running down your beautiful face, Satoru is standing beside you, holding your hand. You are unconscious, but it doesn't matter, his six eyes tell him that your cursed energy is stable, you have been knocked out, that's all.

"Step aside for a second, loverboy, I have to heal the cut on her arm." Shoko says with a smirk and Gojo steps away hesitantly, watching carefully as your scars slowly disappear. The healer leaves the room as soon as she finishes and Satoru is quick to return to your side, his fingers laced with yours once again.

"Gojo?"

"Am I not Satoru anymore, sweet thing?" he asks disappointedly and your mouth curls up slightly. You could have died, but he's still hung up on the way you addressed him. You look down at your hands, not able to respond. You don't quite know what you two are anymore. "I was really scared, you know? I cannot lose my favorite girl this soon, otherwise I would go insane."

"It's not a big deal, Satoru..."

"But it is...Don't you get it?! I love you." he confesses, he seems furious, but his eyes glisten with the utmost adoration "It's you, it's always been you. The one who keeps me grounded, the one that makes it worthy to be the strongest, because all this power is meant to protect you, sweetheart. So please don't ever go two weeks and four days without talking to me and for the love of god, please don't go out there on reckless missions without me because I don't want to hear about you coming back on a stretcher ever again." he brings your hands up to his lips, kissing them gently and you swear you can see tears swelling in his precious eyes.

"I love you too, Satoru." you reply, your voice barely a whisper. He's shocked, for a second, the next he's leaning closer asking for permission to kiss you properly. You grant it to him and he unites your lips in a long-awaited kiss, one that seals the fate of the rest of your lives, without even knowing it.

"That day, in the hospital ward of Jujutsu Tech, I promised my classmate, the girl I fell deeply in love with, that I would protect her no matter what. That I would love and cherish her with all of my might till the end of my life. I promised her that one day I would marry her, when I went back home with you, Megumi, and told her I was planning on raising you at eighteen, while she simply agreed to help me all the way, no questions asked. Three years later I vowed to her that I would be beside her in sickness and in health. When you rascals were born, I promised I would take care of her and you guys with all the energy I have. Deep down I knew from the moment she stepped into that classroom when I was fifteen that she would be the one for me. And that kids, is how I met your mother." he finishes with a fond smile on his face, but it quickly falters as he notices that Nugget is once again preoccupied with whacking the air with the toy from earlier, Megumi is on his phone and Munchkin is sleeping soundly in his embrace.

Suddenly, he hears your footsteps from down the hall and your sing-song voice coming through the door.

"Where's my beloved family at?" you ask playfully, opening the door to his office, and peeking in. Upon spotting the sleeping toddler in his arms you keep quiet, approaching the two of them and you take your daughter into your embrace. You look around the room, observing the changes, the very bored teenager and your rascal of a son sitting on the couch and you quickly connect the pieces of the puzzle.

"You did it, didn’t you, Satoru?"

"What, sweetheart?" he asks faking innocence.

"The How I Met Your Mother Thing? The idea you were talking to me about the other night."

"Maybe."

"Oh, my poor babies, you had to sit through that cliche story. How long did your dad keep you bored, Megumi?" you ask, your tone teasing.

"Actually it wasn't that long after Nugget started whining." the raven-haired boy explained, looking fondly at his only mother figure.

"I'm so sorry, guys, let's go to Splendid Suchi, okay? That would make you all feel better." you add, leaving a loving kiss on all the kids' heads. Your son lifts his head with incredible speed upon hearing you mention his favourite restaurant, up until now he didn't even notice your presence, too preoccupied with his new toy. Suddenly everyone is up on their feet, ready to have a scrumptious meal.

You and Satoru stay behind a bit as the two boys run out of the school and Megumi summons his demon dogs so that the two of them can play with the fluffy shikigami.

"When are you gonna tell ME that fairytale of yours, angel boy? I'm really curious how you scored a clan princess like me." you ask your husband jokingly and he chuckles, raising his sunglasses up his nose. His hands quickly snake around your waist, pulling you into a loving kiss. Your daughter finally awakens lifting her head from your shoulder, interrupting the beautiful moment between the two of you.

"Mama!" she exclaims, embracing you tightly, her tired eyes fluttering as you bring her closer to your chest.

"Not only did you steal your Mama from me you get her titties as well?! This world is truly cruel."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x you #gojou satoru x you #dad gojo #jjk imganie #satoru imagine #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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danibeanie · 3 months

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Vibes & Beauty Astro observations 🩶

Stelliums💘

-i noticed girlies that have a stellium seem to have a stronger impression on people.Its very common to hear “I love your energy.”

-gemini stellium, love talking, mischievous eyes, sharp beauty,usually long brows,high pitched voice, playful,hair color very saturated like if you got dark hair it’s BLACK or light hair it’s super blonde.

-virgo stellium, just like their mercurial, but a bit more calm and reserved,down to earth voice,”girl me too”,natural beauty,can have a rbf,observant eyes.

-aries stellium, miss independent(love that tho), flushed cheeks, straightforward,intimidating, knows who she is, pronounced brows wether thin or thick they stand out,childlike eyes,gorg girlies.

-pisces stellium, eyes stand out wether it be color or shape you just notice them, kind & pure,high voices just like gemini but they don’t change it as much, cute, creates softness to the face,angels.

-usually when you have a stellium in a chart your gonna attract other people with a stellium as well

Eyes 👀

- water moon girlies have emotional eyes. Its even more pronounced when you have a moon conjunction with inner planets.

Cancer- looks through your soul, “what’s wrong you look sad?”,doe eyes,vulnerable ,pretty eyes ,guys nervous to look at your eyes,manipulative eyes.

Scorpio- intense,intense,intense,darker eyes DOESN’T matter the color, reads u like a book, hiding something,intimidating,mix of siren/doe

Pisces-so prettyyy,lots of eyelid space for some,in tune with other people,pure eyes,mysterious eyes ,long lashes, princess.

-I might just do a series on this!

-Lilith energy🖤

-When having prominent Lilith energy your just going to stand out somehow wether it be ur looks or personality. There’s just something to these people that makes u wanna watch.

-this may be a theory but I believe your lilith placement affects your looks even if it doesn’t tough your ascendant but it has to STRONGLY prounounced to ur personal planets.

-ex I have a Gemini stellium and I have sun moon and mercury conjunction all in 2nd house. My ascendent is in Taurus and my lilith in Gemini conjunct my sun and mercury but not my moon because it’s in an early degree cancer. I’m also a late taurus rising making half of my 1st house gemini. Also my Venus is in gemini in 1st house even though Lilith doesn’t touch my Venus it’s very pronounced in my 2nd house.(2’d house is Taurus home-connection to ascendent)

-All my life guys never approached me and when the few of them did they all had heavy mars energy wether being scorpio or Aries. I find myself attracted to Leo energy and I believe it’s because they match my strong energy. Insecure guys get intimidated by you and treat u like shit.Then get mad when you leave them but still keep on coming back?😭but for some reason expect you to be on the side like no sir we are all #1s here.I though u didn’t like me why are u trying to get my attention when u clearly didn’t want it yesterday.

-even if you try to hide your body for some reason it’s still noticed, “your so tiny” I’ve learned to embrace my body the older I get. confidence is key YALL!

-super black hair,I can’t tell u how many times people have commented on how dark my hair is😭

-mysterious vibe without even trying, my friends have told me this when I walk at the campus.

- I have a bestie with lilith energy as well but it squares her ascendent and mercury many people thought she was a b when first meeting her(even me).She also has mars conjunct ascendent lmao but I love her and our vibes just match each other. I feel like my Venus energy tames my lilith energy a bit more but it’s still there 😭

-guys just don’t approach u period :/

bye y’all thank u so much for the support in my last 2 posts lot of love🖤

#astrology content #astro observations #beauty #stellium #lilith #astro community #eyes

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