#you ever have something really good happen

[verstappen-cult]

PETNAMES, M. VERSTAPPEN.

CONTENT WARNINGS. female reader, explicit content.

Max likes to call you schat or mijn liefje because you get all flustered every time he speaks Dutch. And says it with a playful smile on his face because he knows the effect that is going to have on you.

Max calls you sweatheart — this is probably the one he uses the most — when he’s teasing you or trying to make you forgive him for something he definitely didn’t do but you’re accusing him of nonetheless; of course he’s not going to ask, he will simply ask for your forgiveness. Also when he’s addressing you and asking something simple as “What would you like for dinner, sweetheart?” or something else like “I think you should use the green dress because it really brings out your eyes, sweetheart.”

Max calls you sweetie to annoy you — you don’t like it, so he makes sure to call you sweetie in front of your friends knowing that you would never call him out for it. But he likes seeing you plaster on a smile while leaning against him, your hand sneaking from behind to pinch him on the side. It hurts, but he likes riling you up too much to care.

Max calls you princess when feeling extra attentive and wants to give you everything. You could ask him to give you the moon and he will find a way to make that possible. It happens when you’re out in Monaco or exploring the different cities he has to travel to for work, most of the time. If he sees you looking at a purse for longer than a minute, he won’t hesitate to ask “Do you want that purse, princess?” and even when he’s carrying so many shopping bags that you think he will complain (he never does), Max still asks “You got everything you wanted, princess? We can keep looking if you want.”

Max calls you love or babe when you’re arguing and he’s stressed and tired and doesn’t want to keep fighting. He will try to calm you both down by saying something like “I’m going for a walk, love. Because I can’t keep doing this.” and he’d grab his keys and go for a walk until it’s safe enough to go back home. The first thing leaving his lips will be a “Hey, babe. Can we talk now?” and then you’d spend the whole night trying to make things right, making promises of communicate better.

Max calls you doll when he feels smitten and wants attention but doesn’t know how to ask for it. But you know what he wants because it is the only occasion he really uses it. It is said with a head held low and blushed cheeks “What you doing, doll?” and you’ll stop what you’re doing immediately, if it’s important you will move things aside to make room for him to cuddle next to you. Other times the word rolls from his mouth like a purr “You look pretty today, doll.” while rubbing his head against your arm like a cat.

Max calls you baby when he’s buried deep inside of you, feeling so good that the only words falling from his lips are praises followed by a baby, baby, baby. He says it desperate, when you are riding him and he wants to buck his hips up, but you told him to be a good boy and wait, and he wants to be good for you so badly. He says it breathless when your walls are squeezing the life out of his cock and your climax is approaching. He says it roughly, demanding, while pushing your head against the pillows and thrusting as deep as he can because “You will take what I give you, baby. If I say you can’t come, then you won’t, you understand?” He says it in a whisper when he’s making love to you, rolling his hips slowly as you feel tears streaming down your face because of how intense everything is, “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Max Verstappen is an avid petname user, but would most definitely deny it if anyone were to ask him.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smut #f1 grid x reader #max verstappen x you

[okwonyo]

homeworks, love confessions.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader six hundred tutor!reader au fluff potential future relationship + cw. not proof-read skinship profanity; god ( other )

heeseung

would be so self-conscious; not only about the way he behaves, but also the way he talks. would make sure to not say anything that makes you uncomfortable and whenever he would say something that might have sounded weird, would apologize immediately.

would do everything to have the best grades he can, showing his results to you proudly and taking it as a chance to tell you that you are the best tutor ever. cheeks getting reddish and smile getting shy after you gently praise him.

jongseong

would be such a good listener; writing down all the tips that you tell him, nodding along with a soft smile while you talk and would compliment you by saying that you are a very good teacher— would promise you he’ll so his best on the next exam.

would bring you some snacks for the studying session; knowing somehow what your favorite snacks are. at some point, would even cook some cookies himself and would feel his heart racing when you tell him that they are very good.

jake

would fall, pathetically deeply, into the depths of love as soon as he gaze lands on your unreal visuals— you are beyond pretty and really smart, there is no way he would not be enamored by you. and would be really obvious about it too; giggling and shying away after you would tell him he did great.

would have that cute little habit where his mouth forms into a tiny pout when he doesn’t understand something or is focusing too much. habit which you would find really cute and would contemplate with your head in your hand.

sunghoon

would be an extremely concentrated student; the nose buried in his books and exercises you tell him to do. would get so nervous when he looks at you that he would avoid your eyes and stumble over most of his words whenever he would talk to you.

would, whereupon the tutoring session day has come, get well dressed and hair styled. would, after a while, try to push past his awkward demeanor asking you questions alongside the lines of “have you eaten yet and you, perhaps, like my new hair?”

seonwoo

would not be afraid to ask you any questions; always has a couple of queries to ask you after he had a class of the subject you are helping him with. would be purely amazed about your smart brain, and obvious beauty.

would be so caring, sharing his food with you and fixing your hair whenever he sees that they are a bit messy — which never happens, but he needs to find an excuse to initiate physical touch. although, would not be very hesitant on doing it, you are just too peaceful to be around.

jungwon

would be captivated by you; eyes focused on your face and the way your lips move. would drink every word that fall out from your mouth as if he was a thirsty lamb.

would take the opportunity to compliment you whenever you would break into giggles and ask him what is going on, “i really love your eyes, they are beautiful,” would then tell you continue as if nothing happened right after.

riki

would be extremely giggly and all shy. would think, know even, that you are ethereal and intelligent; which makes you extremely cool in his eyes. god knows he would too mesmerized by you to concentrate on anything else but your pretty face.

would insist on walking with you back home, even though you told him it was no use— with his hand on his heart and leaning towards you a tad, would plead you to let him go with you.

⠀

#⠀♡ ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ ⠀ #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha drabbles #enha reactions #enha scenarios #enha headcanons #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha x reader #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #jongseong fluff #jake fluff #jaeyun fluff #sunghoon fluff #jungwon fluff #sunoo fluff #niki fluff #riki fluff

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii sweetie, how are you? Are requests open rn? I'm soooo sorry if they arent and i'm botherig you, but can i make a sugestion please? How would batboys (including bruce if possible) would "react" to missing you while on a mission? And maybe in the end the reenconter? Just an idea❤️

I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to write this and I hope that it’s everything you want and more.

Dick; sits and sulks as he stares at his phone.

I’m joking…or am I?

He’d be mentally counting away the hours before he came back home to you once more. He tries to act professional and keep a level head seeing as how leaders aren’t meant to have room for errors, he’s learnt that the hard way many times. But he can’t help but yearn to be in your arms and fall into the deepest sleep ever knowing that you were close by and above all safe.

He would use this as motivation to get through the long, long night of patrol in hopes of making time take pity on him and go just that little bit faster, just for his selfish convenience. He just so desperately wants to see you and Hayley cuddled up together on your shared bed, or watching a movie together if you were still awake this late at night. You held a piece of his heart without even knowing it.

So when he feels the patrol come to an end, he’s gleefully beating the piss out of the goons he’s come across with a smile across his face. It’s borderline terrifying image that will forever remain burnt into the deepest parts of his teammates memory for a good long while.

The minute Dick came home and you so happened to be waiting for him, he was already scooping you into his arms and holding you close to his chest as he buried his head into your neck.

‘I missed you.’ He murmurs.

‘I’m pretty sure that’s my line you’ve just stolen.’ You joked as you ran your hand through his dark hair, relived in seeing him home safe and unharmed.

‘Well it’s my line now because I really did miss you,’ Dick said, tightening his hold on you, ‘you we’re all I thought about tonight and how much I wanted to come home and be where I want to be most, in your arms.’ He adds tired and you couldn’t help but coo softly at him.

‘Aww Dickie bird.’ You began. ‘You sound about ready for some much needed sleep.’

Dick lets out a deep sigh as he practically slumps against you. ‘That sounds like a good idea. Is Hayley in bed?’

‘Yes.’ You answered, rubbing his back soothingly.

‘Her bed or ours?’ Dick asks.

‘Do you even need to ask?’ You reply with a chuckle and from that alone did Dick get his answer.

Jason; he’s a little impatient with having to wait to come back home to you, so much so that it tends to end with him brutalising his adversaries more then usual.

Whoops.

He doesn’t apologise at all.

He was so use to coming home to a empty apartment after patrol that long nights like these never use to bother Jason, as it often meant he had something else to do other then stare up at his ceiling, waiting for sleep to catch up to him. Now that he had you however, all Jason wants to do was come home as soon as possible just to catch a glimpse of your sleeping figure on his -now your- bed.

He’s grown addicted to being at your side no matter what that being apart from you for prolonged periods of time made Jason feel hollow, as though he was missing a vital part of himself somewhere and that vital part was you.

So when he gets home he’s already dropped his helmet off somewhere and kneeling before you as you held his face in your hands and groaning as he presses his face further into your hands.

‘I’ve missed you so much tonight chipmunk.’ He admits.

‘I’ve missed you too jay bird.’ You replied, pressing a kiss to his nose, squealing when he stole a quick peck from your lips as you smacked his bicep shortly after. ‘Someone’s feeling particularly loving tonight.’ You add.

Jason groans as he looks up at you with his pretty, pretty eyes that never fail to take your breath away. The mere image alone of this six foot something man kneeling before you was enough to make you feel like the most powerful being in existence. ‘Is it blasphemy for a man to show his partner how much he’s missed them now?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pressed another kiss to his nose, pulling away enough to see him smile dopily at your kiss.

‘No, but it would be great to be warmed ahead of time before you try to steal another kiss.’ You said and Jason smirks. ‘So you’re telling me there is going to be a next time?’ He says teasingly.

‘Don’t let it go to your head hotshot.’ You reply, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards the bedroom.

‘I think I already have sweetheart.’ Jason says with a smile, happy to be home.

Bruce: keeps tabs on you during patrol whilst also remaining vigilant and dedicated to the task at hand.

Bruce was a master at multitasking.

He would always make sure you were safe and decried whenever he got a couple minutes to breathe on his own. He even has a special alert made for you in the instance where you were in danger walking home.

He even finds himself looking at shops you’ve told him about going to, but never doing so due to scheduling conflicts and making a mental note to take you there as a treat to spoil you rotten.

Bruce had more experience in neglecting his own wants and needs for the betterment of Gotham and everyone living in it. So while he may miss you dearly, he knew that his dedication to bettering Gotham’s crime rate one villain, underground drug syndicate, crime lord at a time outweighed that greatly.

So the moment he comes home to you he smiles softly as he allows you to remove the cowl from his head, gently place it down elsewhere, before moving on to wiping the black makeup clean from his eyes.

Bruce knows he could easily done it himself but much rather prefers it if you were the one to do it instead, as it often allows him to have a moment alone with you. No interruptions nor distractions could make him break his gaze away from yours.

‘You’re doing Gotham a whole lot of good Bruce.’ You tell him as you finished wiping off the last of his eye makeup that he puts on under the cowl. ‘ Not many people would be willing to try to keep a dying city alive. Im so proud of you for doing the unthinkable.’ You add as you press a kiss to his cheek.

‘Someone’s got to shoulder the responsibility of this town and I’m more than willing to shoulder that responsibility everyone else who can’t.’ Bruce replies as he takes your hands in his own, kissing the backs of them as his thumbs caressed each of your knuckles. ‘But coming home to you reminds me I’m not alone in this endeavour and I don’t know how to thank you enough for standing by me.’

You smile. ‘You don’t need to thank me at all, just take care of yourself alright? We don’t want the Dark Knight running on fumes now when he’s just getting started.’

Damian: naturally goes by his father’s example and remains focused on the task at hand.

He was trained for long nights like these but you’ve become somewhat of a problem during them.

Damian had often found himself sat on a rooftop somewhere, looking down at two people enjoying the other’s company, and immeditly starts to imagine that it was him and you instead.

He hates how easily his mind drifted towards you during patrol with his father or his other siblings but he just can’t help it but crave for your presence. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable but ironically he doesn’t hate it as much as he probably should’ve. He’s even found himself wanting to count stars with you at one point during patrol until he got him act together to take down a few goons.

He doesn’t admit this to anyone as he’s already felt embarrassed enough that he didn’t needed to be embarrassed even further by the miscreants he’s made to called his family. For he knew they’d never let him live it down for being so caught up on you, they’d called him everything their small minds can come up with for the sake of teasing their younger brother.

So when he comes back to you, he doesn’t say anything other than hugging you uncharacteristically tight against his chest.

‘Someone’s missed me.’ You joked but when Damian didn’t say anything but tighten his grip on you and huff did you change your tune. ‘Oh you did. If it’s any consolation I missed you too.’ You add as you both stayed there in each others arms.

‘Just…hold me will you…please.’ He said softly as he sunk further into your embraced and he closed his eyes, secretly happy to be back home with you.

‘I’m fine with that.’ You replied as you concede to his wishes, just happy to see him home in one piece.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne imagines #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff

[ickie]

♡ missed signals \ cl16.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: best friends who have feelings for each other !! scary !! \ word count: 1.1k warnings: there's like 2 sentences of steam but they literally just make out idk ! if u don't like cheesy men or reader being oblivious ... this will not be 4 u !notes: i wrote this because i cannot sleep so if it makes no sense... blame the lack of sleep not me ! feel free to leave any feedback here !

your fingernails dug into the plam of your hand, eyebrows creasing together as you stared at your best friend, the person that you would sacrifice anything for... hell, the person that you would go to jail for. you coud pinpoint the exact day things began to change, and that was the day that you friendship with charles had begun to turn into something far from platonic.

it was barley a year ago, you and charles had decided to go to a party, and maybe it was a bad idea when charles had been insisting that he needed the time to recouperate... but what better way to recouperate than with some alcohol and some quality time with friends and strangers alike?

♡♡♡

your hands had begun to get cold from the condensation that was forming on the outside of your glass, a pout taking over your glossed lips. "charlie," you drew out the last syllable, standing on your tiptoes so that he could maybe hear you over the music. "i'm bored." you hummed, head turning to the side as you stared him down.

"and what am i supposed to do about that, mon loulou?" he questioned back, raising an amused eyebrow at you as your shoulders shrugged at the taller male. "can we dance, do something please! i'm dying over here!" your dramatics didn't go unnoticed, charles letting out a laugh at your actions.

his hand grabbed yours, pulling you towards the crowded dance floor. your hips swayed easily to the music, the feeling of charles behind you wasn't foreign. it wasn't weird for best friends to be grinding on each other in the middle of a dance floor, right? because for you and charles, it definitely wasn't. the feeling of his hands on your waist caused you to throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as the two of you danced until your boredom was somewhat satiated.

shortly after, though, you began to feel overheated - the alcohol you had consumed too quickly hitting you like a ton of bricks. "charlie," his nickname came out like a whimper, your cheeks flushing. "i'm hot, can we go outside, please?" you asked the question as you were already moving away from him, eyeing the door that led to a balcony.

you let out a relieved sigh as the cooler air hit your sweaty skin, hands coming up to run through your hair. "i dunno what happened," you laughed, leaning against the railing. "i was fine and then i got hot, and not in a good way..." you joked as charles slotted himself next to you, your head resting on his shoulders. your eyes closed, listening to him speak as you hummed out responses, only half way listening.

one thing led to another, and you found your lips on charles', you hands in his hair and his hands placed firmly on your hips, not letting you move away - not like you wanted to. the feeling of his lips against yours was something you hadn't really thought of before, but... they were something unlike any one else you had ever kissed. they were soft, gentle... and all you knew in that moment was that you wanted to keep kissing the boy you had considered your best friend.

charles pulled away though, a bit too soon for your liking as you let out a whine of protest. "i," he bit his lip, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes. you tried to decipher what emotion he was feeling, but his face was eerily empty. "we should go back inside." he stepped away from you, shoving his hands into his pockets. you stayed quiet, eyes finding the floor as you nodded your head. what the fuck just happened?

as soon as you got inside, you ordered yourself an uber, saying your goodbyes to your (very tipsy) friends who had tried to get you to stay longer, but you made up something about not feeling good, not like it was a lie, though. the feeling of regret, the feeling of unwantedness... it had you feeling sick to your stomach.

♡♡♡

"you wanted me to take that as a sign you had feeling for me?" the quesiton came out before you could stop it, a hand slapping over your mouth as you laughed. "you ran away from me, charles!"

"i was... embarassed, okay?" one of his hands came up and scratched the back of his neck. "i didn't want my first time kissing you to be on the balcony at some club, mon ange. it should've been something more important than that. but you really didn't think anything was different after vegas?"

♡♡♡

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas? or at least that's what they said... and that's what you told yourself as you led charles to your hotel room feeling the urge to congratulate him for making the podium.

his lips were on your neck as soon as the door was shut, your back snugly pushed against the wall. a whimper passed through your lips as his teeth grazed a sensitive spot, your hands pulling at whatever they could find purchase on.

"charlie, i need more..."

"oh, mon ange, you're going to get plenty."

♡♡♡

thinking back on the memory of vegas, you felt heat creep up into your chest and your cheeks. did you really miss these signs of charles trying to make moves on you..? there's no way, right? "what happens in vegas stays in vegas!" you counter, holding your hands up in defense.

"mon ange." he deadpans, a look of are you dumb? crossing his features.

"okay, okay... maybe i should've looked more into it but you know how i am!" you step closer to him, a hand reaching out to graze at his forearm. "but, charlie... if you really wanted to be with me you should've just told me..." you let out a giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "or, i dunno, asked me on a date? or just plain asked me out?" there's a teasing edge to your tone, a smile pulling at your lips.

"i'm not doing that," he scoffs, his hands pulling at your waist to pull you close to him. "you're mine, mon ange... you might not have realized it, but, it's gonna be me and you for however long your willing to deal with me." he leans down to kiss you, but you reach a hand up to stop him.

"that was the cheesiest shit i've ever heard, charles." you make a mock disgusted face before dropping your hand. "but, you can kiss me now, if you'd like.."

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fluff #charles leclerc fluff #cl16

[sweetestdesire]

AN ACCIDENTAL INCIDENT

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes accidentally makes a mess in the kitchen.

Jack Hughes, the man who happened to be one of the strongest hockey players of his time, felt his knees shake a little from fear. He watched the twist of the doorknob, glancing slowly around the kitchen and the mess he’s made, and gulped before sending a little prayer to whoever was listening. 

It didn’t take a genius to know he was in for an earful once Y/N saw this mess, but this also meant that he might just sleep on the couch. And then that meant no cuddles. And then that meant he won’t sleep well. And then that meant he’ll be sulky. And then that meant Jack will make a snide comment at his expense. And overall, he wasn’t really looking forward to subjecting himself to getting his feelings hurt like this. 

So, in ever so Jack-Hughes-fashion, he put a grin on his face and a pep in his step as he clambered up to Y/N, pressing two wet kisses to her cheeks while he greeted her. “Hey, pretty girl. You’re home.” He grinned, pressing more kisses along her jaw. “I missed you so much. I was starting to think you were never gonna show up.“

Y/N raised an eyebrow at his pout, rolling her eyes before letting the smile she’d been fighting off spread across her lips. With a shake of her head as she snorted and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and Jack’s knees were a little wobbly again, but this time for completely different reasons. 

“Jack, maybe I’ve just been plotting to run away since the first day we moved in together.” Y/N teased, poking his lips as he pouted again. 

“Well, I love me a good chase.” He winked. “I’ll even give you a head start. Not that it’ll help, anyway. You’re far too slow. Ow, that fucking hurt.” He whined dramatically as she swatted at his shoulder. 

“No, it didn’t.” Y/N chuckled, forehead leaning against his as she smiled. It was soft, a little lopsided from pure glee, a little extra in love today than it was yesterday.

Jack almost forgotten about the mess in the kitchen, almost forgotten about the egg yolk on the ceiling and the salt he’s spilled all over the floor. Something about the way Y/N traced over the back of his neck with one hand and cupped the apple of his cheek with the other as she pulled him in for a sweet, slow kiss made the thought fly out of his head. Then, she suddenly pulled away and turned around right for the kitchen, right where the mess was. 

“Wait, baby, why don’t you go freshen up?” Jack tried to yank her by the arm. “I’ll order us something to eat tonight. I don’t want my girl to have to cook right after a long, exhausting, draining day, now do I?”

“Jack, what the fuck happened to my kitchen?” Y/N cut him off and asked sharply, making him stiffen. 

Jack Hughes was sure that if there was one thing in this world he was most scared of, it was her wrath. And right now, something told him he was about to feel a whole lot of her wrath. “I was attacked.”

“In the kitchen?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. Her hips did a little slant as she glared at him, and if he wasn’t so woeful that this might just mean a one way trip to the couch tonight, he might just grin at how adorable she looked.

“Yes.” Jack nodded seriously. “I was just minding my business, as one does in their kitchen, and suddenly, I was attacked. Y/N, I defended our kitchen with all I had.”

“Oh, I see.” Y/N nodded slowly, making him gulp as she narrowed her eyes. “And you were not only snuck up on in our kitchen, but you had to give it your ‘all’ to keep safe.” She looked him dead in the eye, and he was sure if looks alone could kill, his whole lineage would have died three times over by now. “Some protector, you are.” She said dryly. 

“Now that’s just mean.” Jack whined, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his nose into the crook of her neck. And even though she wanted nothing more than to desperately wrap her own arms around him, she stood painfully still. She couldn’t let him win everything with a sickeningly cute pout and sweet words all the time. “I was blinded by the pain of missing you so bad. It threw me off my game.”

Y/N couldn’t help but cave, couldn’t help but let the small grin on her face turn into a large beam, and couldn’t help what started as a giggle bubbling up her throat turn into soft laughter that rung through their home. When her arms snaked around his waist and brought him just a little closer against her body, when her lips found the side of his head and planted a small kiss through a smile, and when the sound of her voice met his ear in a soft hum, his heart only grew larger with every new moment she gifted him. So, Jack hugged her tighter, grinning when her hand threaded through his hair as he pressed a little kiss to her neck.

“You better clean my kitchen as valiantly as you defended it.” Y/N warned, poking his shoulder. He huffed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck deeper. He could smell the faint smell of her perfume, and it was the same scent he was used to, it never changed and he hoped it never did.

“Don’t you wanna help?” He poked her hip. “I was all alone when I fought for our kitchen.”

“Nope.” Y/N grinned. “I’ll let you take care of it. And while you’re at it, go ahead and order out. Like you said, you’re paying.” And after a kiss to his temple, she pulled away with a cheeky little grin and left him there in the hallway. And he smiled, staring at the pictures on the walls and the shoes at the doorway, and sighed happily at the way the apartment was never lonely. Not with her.

“Looks like I’m not sleeping on the couch tonight.” Jack mumbled to himself in victory. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Y/N called from the bedroom, and almost like she knew he was pouting once more, the sound of her giggle rang through their home.

#jack hughes one shot #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes x female reader #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes drabble #jack hughes thoughts #jh86 #new jersey devils

[buckstommy]

hi so I just looked up what proship means. and I just wanted to ask if you like/support incest or pedophilia ships?

i support uncensored media. does that mean i like all of it? no. do i believe it’s important it exists and continues to exist? yes.

you don't have to like/support "problematic" content to believe it shouldn't be censored. censorship affects all of us, but especially lgbt and poc creatives. it starts with the things that everyone agrees is bad — no one, not even the people who read underage, thinks harming kids is okay in any capacity.

but it never stops there. it doesn't stop at underage or incest or rape. once a corporation realizes it has your stamp of approval to censor shit, they'll keep going until it's a white cishet conservative's dream. nothing queer, nothing where poc struggles are a focal point and it's talking negatively about white people and white supremacy. no sex. no sex no matter how vanilla. that's a problem. everyone, especially people who fall into marginalized identities, should be really, really against that.

this purity culture that's started to run rampant in fandom, this need to sanitize everything, to make sure everything exists very neatly within the box of Morally Right is harmful. fiction is not inherently good or bad because it's not real.

reading about siblings having sex doesn't actually hurt anyone, neither does writing it.

this shame surrounding taboo sexual topics, though?

that hurts people. that hurts kids. purity culture is spreading in fandom but it didn't start here. people are so worried about being "morally good" about media that has no moral responsibility in the first place that they completely ignore the real life repercussions of telling children that talking about sex is wrong, that if you've ever had thoughts that don't align with the purity mindset that you're gross, that if something ever happens to you you shouldn't talk about it, that if something happens to you and, in your trauma, it becomes something you're into in a consensual, pro-kink context that you're dirty.

the vast majority of people i know and have seen both online and in person with rape or ageplay kinks are victims of sexual abuse.

fiction is a comfort and it's allowed to be no matter how weird someone else thinks it is.

no one's telling you you need to go on ao3 dot com right now and filter everything with "underage". no one's telling you to make nsfw fanart of siblings if you don't want to. the point of being pro-ship is that you're in favor of people doing what they want with fiction. i know it's got "pro" in the name, but the point of being pro-ship is to be anti censorship.

(and, yeah, i ship the brothers from supernatural.)

#i wasn't going to reply tbh but i think this is actually. important. #bia gets mail #anon #pro ship

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, friends to lovers, skinny dipping, PIV sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, pool sex WC:1.9K

A/N: Feeling very rusty so I'm attempting to dust the cobwebs off my brain and get back into the swing of things with a little bit of Steve filth.

This will they won't they thing was starting to get old.

The casual flirting between you and your neighbor had ramped up in the last month, but you knew him well enough to realize when he's pulling back on the reins, even if subtly.

Up until now you'd enjoyed the way Steve's gaze wandered over you and the playful banter that tended to edge towards suggestive. You'd even glimpsed the only semblance of 'King Steve' that'd remained ever since he turned his whole image inside out a few years ago — that slight, but thankfully tolerable air of playboy confidence you couldn't find in yourself to dislike despite how you made sure to roll your eyes whenever it appeared.

But things were starting to fizzle out now, you could feel it. This thing that had started to brew between you and Steve seemed to be following the trajectory of a bottle rocket — the chemistry you shared soared for a while but now the chances of things becoming serious appeared to be heading for a nosedive.

Your discerning eyes were too sharp, noticing the flickers of hesitation and trepidation that peeked through when he spoke with you now, less flirting as of late, more awkward floundering and not the adorable kind.

You don't know it yet but the reason was because all those fears he'd thought he'd long outrun had started to shadow him again, afraid of things panning out like they always had in his love life.

The Harrington charm drew the girls in like bumblebees to pollen, everything turning sticky sweet for a while but it always ended the same way — with Steve getting stung.

He's gotten in his head about it — every bad date, every lousy hook up, every ounce of self doubt he'd tried hard to swallow down regurgitating back up in his mind like bile. He'd even begun to second guess if you really wanted him the way he wanted you, scared of messing things up if he were to make a real move because he doesn't want to lose you. Not after all the years of liking you so much.

Oblivious to his internal turmoil, you only know that the waiting's been hell on you, feeling more than a little fed up of all the flirting that hadn't led to anything more than a spike in sexual tension and a bunch of almost kisses a couple of times you'd been alone with Steve.

Almost wasn't good enough.

You wanted to show him that you were serious about him — no more bullshit. You were determined to go after what you wanted, taking it upon yourself to make the first move, knowing it'll have to be something big if you were going to really convince him.

And you have the perfect thing in mind.

~

Given he was supposed to be the only one home at this hour, the sound of swashing water echoing from the pool deck comes off more alarming than anything else.

Ears trained in that direction, Steve quietly steps closer towards the noise, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other like he's walking a tightrope.

Was it robbers?

No, robbers only break in to take your shit, not take a dip, he shook his head, feeling stupid he'd even considered it at all.

Speed running a list of possibilities in his mind, a slight shiver ran through him as he quietly hoped it wasn't another skunk that had wandered too close to the edge again, nearly gagging at the memory of how the scared, drenched animal had rewarded him for saving its life a few months back.

Peering out of the entry way, he reckoned he would have guessed a hundred other things before he ever would have guessed what he saw outside. Dropping his keys and jaw, he finds you wading in his pool. Unbothered and very much unclothed.

"Um...you're in my pool", he states as he steps out, dumbfounded.

"And you're..."

He doesn't say it. He wont, afraid that if he did, whatever's happening might suddenly stop. Hell, it felt far too good to be true, half expecting to bolt upright in bed at any second to find it'd been a dream all along, a tent in his plaid pajama bottoms waiting to greet him.

"I am" you confirm, knowing exactly what he'd meant to say, smiling devilishly.

With the pool lights on, your lack of swimwear is obvious against the blue tiles although the rippling water surface obscures your body enough to prevent him from getting a clear look at you no matter how much he squints in an attempt to focus.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, Harrington", you chide, moonlight making your wet skin glitter like topaz.

"Huh?", Steve shakes his head, the jolt crackling up the length of his spine feeling far too real to be part of a dream. This is happening. This is really fucking happening, thunders and echoes inside his head, the realization making his palms turn clammy — the first time since his teens that a girl's elicited that kind of bodily reaction out of him.

"Got tired of waiting for you to nut up and make a move", you wade closer to the edge of the pool with all the allure of a siren approaching shore, the tops of your breasts showing above the surface.

"I want you, Steve", you beckon to him sweetly. Sincerely. "Come join me. It's lonely in here", you finish with a little pout.

He's never undressed quicker in his entire life — all of those nerves and doubts ironed out of him with that one simple confirmation.

You watch as his belt is unbuckled in a flurry, shirt following as it's tossed off to the side. It occurs to you then to offer him a modicum of privacy because it feels like the right thing to do, placing your hands over your eyes until he submerges himself into the water with you. But not before you submit to another urge, sneaking one quick peek between your fingers, your cheeks growing hot when you glimpse his half hard length dangling between his legs.

Covering your eyes again, you wait for him to join you, growing giddy when you feel him enter the water and wade closer to you.

You're met with that hopelessly moony smile of his when he gently pries your hands away from your face. "You always leave your clothes behind when you trespass or is this a new thing for you?", he asks, pearly teeth peeking out as his smile widens into a grin.

You laugh back, a little surprised that you'd gone through with it yourself. "Gonna beef up security around here if I keep it up?", you joked lightly, earning a chuckle from your neighbor.

"Fuck no. I'll even take down the fence so you don't have to hop it next time", he grinned harder, deviously handsome in the moonlight.

Your toes brush his as you wade a little closer, a shiver running through you despite the warmth of the water you're chest deep in. "It was between this or surprising you in your car", you told him, sharing the plan you'd concocted the night before. "You know— trench coat, hide in the backseat. Pretty classy stuff but then I thought about it a little more and realized it sounded kinda sketchy", you made a face, scrunching up your nose. "Didn't want you to think you were getting carjacked or something", you huffed another laugh.

Steve pales a little, laughing along nervously, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Hadn't even thought of that", he lied, glad he didn't rush out here swinging his bat like he would have had he not convinced himself otherwise about the robbers.

As the amusement tapers you focus your stare on the rise and fall of Steve's chest and the hair matted against it, pressing a hand there to feel his taught, wet skin.

There's a lull in your banter as his hands find your waist and your own starts to trail down, gliding over the plane of his soft stomach, fingers dipping underwater to skim the coarse trail of hair below his bellybutton.

Your touches are delicate for a start, fingers curling around Steve's erection as you feel him twitch in your palm, your thumb gently sweeping over the bump of a vein before trailing up to find his tip.

You meet his gaze when you glide the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, smooth and from what you can tell, sensitive from the way his breath stutters and his length flexes in your hand.

The waiting comes to an end then.

Steve leans in as quickly as you do, lips meeting yours, the scent of chlorine strong on your bodies, his chest pressing against your breasts. It's a dizzying minute of his tongue hungrily brushing against yours before he pulls you up by the underside of your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your body reacts quickly, crossing your ankles behind his back. His shaft nudges your clit from this angle and it makes you whine into his mouth, all needy from being deprived this kind of intimacy because of how he'd held back all those weeks.

He pulls away from the kiss to look as you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I know baby, I know. Made you wait for it too long didn't I? Don't worry I'm going to give it to you now, okay?", he coos, one part reassuring one part cocky.

Your core aches with anticipation when he says it, desire heavy and burning in your belly.

"Steve wait", you cut him off before his lips can come down on yours again.

"Yeah?"

"Could you— could you do it rough? that's how I want it", you tell him, digging your nails into his biceps. You're in no mood for anything soft or slow. Not right now. Not after waiting this long.

"Whatever you want— I'll give you anything you want", he promises, leaning in to kiss you again.

It doesn't take long for the swashing to recommence, building up to a loud, choppy splashing. Your back will carry evidence of how he has you pressed against the side of the pool tomorrow, arms wrapped around his neck as his tip meets your entrance and he works it inside, his length rutting into your soft core, punching out a chorus of moans and whimpers wrapped around his name.

Before he's completely lost to the warm, wet tightness of your walls wrapping around him, Steve only prays that none of his other neighbors care enough to peek over because if they did, things were bound to get awkward at the next block party.

"Promise me you w-won't go cold on me again", you beg when he locates that spot inside you, the head of his cock dragging over it just right.

"I promise", he answers, unclenching his jaw to nip at your bottom lip. "Promise me you'll go out with me after this? be my girlfriend?"

It nearly sends you reeling, being asked the question you'd been waiting to hear for weeks now as he's literally inside you, making your orgasm approach faster.

Smiling hard, you're still letting out little uh's and ah's because he doesn't let up his pace, driving his cock into you, all hard and fast just like how you wanted.

You couldn't wait to keep making up for all that time you spent doing anything that wasn't this, gasping out your answer.

"I promise"

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

[moonchildstyles]

would Élan!Harry ever get jealous with (Y/N)? Seeing as to how they don't make their relationship public (yet!), people would still definitely hit on her, so how would he deal with that?

wordcount: 4.2k+

—————

"One more?" 

Harry's lips grew into a lopsided smile at (Y/N)'s request. It would never lose its shine, would it? 

"One more, but I don't want to be the one in trouble for your lipstick this time," he conditioned with a raised brow. 

"Okay, fine," (Y/N) answered right away, waving his terms off with a fluttering hand, "Just one more before we have to go inside." 

Pressing his lips to her own perfectly painted pair, Harry was determined to keep it light and fleeting, knowing that there were cameras lurking just up ahead. It wouldn't be a good look for either of them to emerge from the back of this SUV with (Y/N)'s lipstick smeared and the remnants on Harry's own mouth. 

Of course, his determination hinged on just how well behaved (Y/N) was going to be. Which, as he'd learned through the course of their tabloid facade, wasn't something that happened often. It was her that deepened the kiss with a tip of her head, fitting his bottom lip between her two. 

How was he supposed to say no to that?

She knew he'd given in as soon as he felt the faint curl of her lips against his, a smug victory smile. 

Though, her victory didn't last much longer than that. 

The ever patient—and discreet—man he was, Sully knocked on the partition as a warning that they were quickly approaching the venue of the night's party. It was Harry who had to have the power to pull away first, leaving (Y/N) with a puffed pout and only slightly smudged lipstick. He didn't even want to think about how much of the red was now painted over his own mouth. 

"Don’t give me that look," he told her, swiping a thumb over a smudge just under her bottom lip. 

His command only garnered him a set of narrowed eyes to go along with her pout. "I don't even want to be here tonight, why can't we go home?" 

"Because," he said, canting his head as she did the same, "Y'told Francesca you'd be here tonight, and I know y'wouldn't leave her by herself." 

"She'll make friends," she huffed, though Harry knew he'd won her over as soon as she turned away in search of the compact in her purse. 

"It's gonna be alright, darling," he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she clicked open her mirrors and touched up her lipstick, "We'll go home early if y'really want." 

"I do really want," she petulantly mumbled, cleaning up the slight smudging outside of the line of her mouth. "H, you messed up my lipstick." 

That was enough to have him throwing his head back with a laugh.

By the time Sully had pulled up to the entrance of the high-rise the party was taking place at, (Y/N) had primed her appearance and put on her socialite facade. Harry had sat at her side, being her anchor as she centered herself and let the side of her personality that loved cameras and attention take over. 

"Ready?" he'd murmured once they pulled up to the entrance of the building.

She chirped out and Mh-hm a small smile on her lips. "Ready to be my bodyguard?"

"If y'can behave," he countered, sliding his arm off of her shoulders once he saw the first flashes of the camera aimed at the SUV. 

"We'll see," she smiled just before sliding down the leather seats and pushing the door open. 

Harry had no choice but to follow after her, shaking his head just before stepping out into the flashing lights with her. Schooling his features, he slipped on his own facade. Despite what the tabloids wrote and the blurry photos supposedly circulating online, when they stepped in public, Harry was her bodyguard. Especially when it comes to parties like this.

He'd be her lover later, he had to make sure she was safe first. 

The entrance wasn't packed with photographers, but there were still enough people for Harry to hover just behind her. He'd learned his lesson well while in Paris that summer—it didn't matter just how few paparazzi were following her, it only took one to push the limits. 

She kept her head down when the few waiting outside the event started talking to her, speaking over one another with calls of her name. None of them acted particularly invasive, speaking rudely to her or invading her space, especially seeing as there wasn't anything particularly scandalous circulating about her at the moment. Nonetheless, while (Y/N) politely smiled and kept her space, Harry was the intimidating presence behind her that reminded others just how important it was for them to keep their distance. 

Following as her quiet shadow, Harry kept his hands to himself as they were escorted to the penthouse floor for the party. If not for the attendant in the lift, he may have attempted to get one more touch of her skin against his, though he instead settled for a sidelong glance that had her lips tipping into a small smile. 

When the doors opened directly to the penthouse space, Harry tipped his head, gesturing for (Y/N) to go first. She thanked the attendant with a quiet thank you before she stepped into the fluttering party.

It was a decidedly more low-key event compared to the many that (Y/N) frequented, most of the attendants having spilled out towards the open air patio. The rest of the space was full of modern, minimalist decor. Walls were made of glass panelling, everything coming in different shades of cream and nude, manicured greenery being placed throughout the space in an attempt to make it look more lived in than it most likely was. Staff traipsed through the space with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of bubbly alcohol. 

"Do you see Fran anywhere?" (Y/N) murmured, her fingers joining into a fumbling bundle at her middle. 

Continuing his scan over the crowd, Harry stuffed his own hands into his pockets to keep from plucking (Y/N)'s up in an attempt to soothe her. "Not yet. Do y'know if she's here yet?" 

"I don't know, she hasn't texted me since before we left." At that, (Y/N) pulled out her phone, most likely pulling up Francesca's shared location. Her expression fell at whatever she saw on her screen. "She hasn't even left her apartment yet." 

"That's alright," he told her, keeping his voice low, "She'll be here soon. Do y'want a drink?" 

Just as she opened her mouth to give an answer, (Y/N) was interrupted by a voice Harry didn’t recognize. Though plenty of strangers approached her while they were out and about, especially at events such as this, it still put him on edge. Peering around the perfect style of (Y/N)'s hair, he found a man with dark hair and grown in facial hair approaching her. He was inches shorter than Harry, but with the way the group he'd drifted away from admired him, he could have been seven feet tall. 

"Hi," (Y/N) politely answered. Harry didn't have to see her expression to be able to picture the neutral set to her mouth and the practiced light in her eyes. 

"Sorry," the man said, voice accented with lilting vowels and an undulating melody. His eyes never  strayed from (Y/N). "I don't mean to interrupt, I was just hoping I'd run into you while I was in the city. I'm Luca." 

"Oh, no worries," she answered, just as perfectly pleasant as always, "Nice to meet you." 

Harry watched on as she reached out a manicured hand for him to shake, only for Luca to bring her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her knuckle. 

His hands in his pockets clenched. 

This was the downside to keeping their relationship on the down low—everyone loved to assume she was available for the taking. 

"Nice to meet you as well," Luca drawled, looking at (Y/N) through a fan of dark lashes. It was with a sudden glance in his direction that Luca seemed to realize she hadn't been standing off by herself. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Luca." 

With a clenched jaw, Harry offered his own greeting, reciprocating Luca's outstretched hand for no other reason than to ensure he wouldn't let it wander back towards (Y/N). 

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, voice a bit stifled as he assessed the man before him. 

"Are you—uh—a friend of (Y/N)'s?" Luca asked, taking a step back with his hand giving a slight flex before settling it into his pocket. The action had Harry's lips quirking into a small smile; it was entirely intentional just how tight his handshake was, but he would never admit that. 

"I'm her bodyguard." 

It was always with that statement that Harry had assessing eyes tracing over his form, taking stock of who he was as if his merits for his profession were painted on his clothing or tattooed on his arms. 

"I bet she keeps you busy then, this one," Luca attempted to tease as if he knew anything at all about he or (Y/N).

Before Harry could manage to snip out his own reply, (Y/N) took over. "Luca, have we met before? Sorry, if I've forgotten—I have the worst memory," she laughed, "You look familiar." 

That seemed to be just the question Luca had been waiting for, a dazzling smile settling on his features. "Ah, well," he started, suddenly—deceptively—bashful with his eyes dropping to his feet, "I am an F1 driver—for Ferrari, actually. You may have seen one of my races." 

Harry had to make a point to keep from rolling his eyes. 

"Oh wow," (Y/N) bubbled, perfect persona in place, "That's really cool! I have a friend who really enjoys that kind of thing, so maybe I've seen you on T.V." 

"Yeah?" he chirped, decidedly more willing to talk about his profession now that (Y/N) may be familiar with him, "I was just in Las Vegas for a race a couple of weeks ago. Have you ever been before?" 

Harry had to tune him out then, instead opting to look for Francesca through the new faces that had entered since being huddled in the corner with Luca The F1 Driver. Slipping into bodyguard mode, he only heard the polite mumblings of the conversation at his side, attempting to provide (Y/N) with as much privacy he could manage. 

"Right, H?" (Y/N) asked, suddenly pulling him back into the moment from where he'd zoned out pretending to look for Francesca. 

"Hm?" he hummed, blinking back into reality to find (Y/N) looking at him with Luca seemingly unimpressed with his inclusion. The thought had a lopsided smile touching at the corner of his lips. 

"We're going to be in Milan next month, right?" 

"Yes, from the ninth to the seventeenth. Why?" His question was aimed at Luca, forcing him to pay attention to him.

His smile looked especially pasted on this time when he matched Harry's attention. "I was just telling (Y/N) that I'll be racing again in Monza next month. Perhaps, you can catch the race while you're out there?" 

"Maybe," (Y/N) answered noncommittally, "I'd have to check in and see what we have planned, and Harry usually has to—" 

"No need to worry about that," Luca interjected, "I have a box you could spend the time in—I doubt you'll need any security up there." 

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw, hinging it tighter. To be fair, it wasn't the most blatant attempt to get him out of the way he'd ever heard before, but it was certainly an attempt. 

It was (Y/N) that had shrugged her shoulders, piping up first before Harry had a chance. "Oh, no," she waved Luca off with a polite smile, "Harry would be coming with me anyway."

At that, Harry could spot a small crack forming in Luca's facade. (Y/N) wasn't quite playing into whatever he had been hoping for when he meandered over to her. 

"You just let me know, then," Luca settled on, features schooled into perfection though he did stray a glance towards Harry. "Sorry, I'm being so rude—can I get you a drink, (Y/N)?" 

It took (Y/N) only a split second thought before she was jumping on the opportunity. "Yes, please, actually! Anything sweet works for me." 

When (Y/N) made a move to pull out her phone, her own quiet way of dismissing Luca to the bar, Harry had to keep his features from showing his amusement. She had casually turned to face Harry, giving her back to the bar Luca had disappeared to.

With her eyes still low, she murmured, "Is he far enough away?" 

"Mhm." 

Looking up at him with wide eyes, she whispered, "Oh my god, is he being annoying or am I just in a bad mood?" 

The exasperation in her tone was enough to have Harry letting out a chime of laughter. "No, he's definitely being annoying. Did y'really recognize him, or were y'jus' saying that?" 

"Kind of," she waved off, whatever app on her phone taking a backseat for the moment, "I half-watched a race one time with Toriana but that's it. I just wanted him to stop talking to you."

"Of course, Fran had to be late today, right?" Harry joked, sharing a small smile with her before noticing Luca on his way back with bubbling drinks in hand.

"Seriously," (Y/N) sighed before spinning on her heel to face Luca once more. "Thank you so much!" 

Now knowing how (Y/N) truly felt about her companion, Harry had to make a point to keep his amusement from touching his face when listening to the way she forced herself to pep up for him. It was interesting to him now, just how different it had been in the beginning, how difficult it had been for him to spot those differences in her personas—the split between who she truly was and who she hid behind. Now, all he needed to hear was the inflection of her voice, the arch of her spine, the gesticulating of her hands, and he could tell just where her comfort was sitting.

Luca's voice became a mumbling of monotone syllables to him, nothing to pay attention to as Harry observed the party and the patrons. He kept an ear out for (Y/N), ensuring she wasn't in need of him, though he had to make a point to keep from laughing at the sound of her faux-giggles between sips of sugary alcohol.  

Though he wasn't a fan of hearing others hit on his girlfriend, it was rather funny to hear just how clueless they were to her disinterest when it was so clear to his own ears. 

Of course, until Luca put his hands on her. 

It was slow, the way he'd grown closer to her after noticing Harry had averted his attention some. He took small steps, shifting his weight and leaning in as if he couldn't hear her over the low music playing. Once he deemed himself close enough, Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, his hand landing on the small of her back, sliding around to settle on the curve of her waist as if he wasn't clearly flinching away. 

A too loud laugh filtered from her mouth then, enough to have Harry's attention sharpening and pinning on the interaction. 

As casually as possible, (Y/N) attempted to step out of Luca's grip. Though it didn't appear that he caught the hint with the way he shifted towards her once more, closing the gap she'd opened. 

There was a moment, with the sight of his hand on her waist, fingertips dipping into the folds of her dress as they curled to the line of her body, that Harry wondered just how many grainy videos and opinionated essays would be posted if he stepped in and pushed Luca away. 

 He'd bet it would be more than either he or (Y/N) would care to see. 

It was when (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, a fleeting glance, one that could have easily been mistaken for a flip of her hair, that Harry stepped in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, greedily pulling her away from Luca's grip. 

"Francesca's here," he murmured, voice just loud enough for Luca to clue into the fact that his time with (Y/N) was over.

Spinning to face him, (Y/N) looked to him with relief in her eyes. "Really?" she bubbled, glancing back at Luca for a moment though she was already heading into Harry's arms, "It was nice talking to you, Luca!" 

Harry almost wanted to gloat when he saw how Luca stuttered over himself, absently reaching out as (Y/N) slipped through his fingers. 

"Oh—Um—Let me know about Monza, yeah? I'd love to see you again before I leave the city, maybe tom—" 

"I'm really busy this week, but maybe! I'll see about Monza and have Harry reach out!" 

It was with that final remark, that (Y/N) began leading the charge away from Luca and the corner he'd huddled her into. Harry followed after her, shifting his arm until he had his palm on her bicep.

"Thank god," (Y/N) sighed once they were far enough away, "Did you hear him?" 

"I tried not to," Harry murmured, guiding her through the throngs of people, slowing when unfamiliar faces said greetings in passing, "What did he say?" 

(Y/N) shook her head. "I know more about his racing stats than I think I know about myself." 

Typical, Harry figured. Of course, once the veil was lifted, would Luca leave the shy act behind to boast about his job in hopes of impressing (Y/N).

"'M not surprised," he said, just before (Y/N) changed their course.

Instead of following the line of the bar and those gathered in the living area, she turned them towards a hallway branching off the main room. It was decidedly quieter than where the party was. 

"Do you think there's a bathroom down here?" (Y/N) muttered, scanning her eyes down the few doors lining the hall, "I want to hide for a second."

It was (Y/N)'s request—that she wanted to hide away after speaking to Luca—that had him trying his hand at his own exploration. Even if he didn't hide a restroom, he would find somewhere quiet for his girl to decompress. 

On a whim, he reached towards the handle of a passing door. Pushing it open, a pristine bathroom sat inside. Convenient. 

Gently pulling her over the threshold first, Harry made a point to take a look around, intending to catch if anyone had wandering eyes that had landed on them. Though he couldn't be sure no one had caught them stealing away together, at least no one was watching as they went into the bathroom together. 

Setting her drink on the counter, (Y/N) sat on the edge of an elaborate tub with a heaving sigh. Her shoulders settled down, sloping downwards as she looked up at the ceiling for a second. 

"I don't know if I've been that annoyed since Paris," she muttered, rolling her neck. 

A small smile settled on Harry's lips then. Leaning against the marbled countertop, he crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed at her. "Maybe we should've stayed home, hm?" 

"I told you so," she countered, looking to him with amusement in her eyes. "How much do you wanna bet that Fran hasn't even left the house yet?" 

He watched as she pulled out her phone from her purse, checking through whatever tabs she had open before he unfurled from where he was leaning against the counter. Crossing the pristine tiles under his feet, he crouched in front of where (Y/N) was huddled on the edge of the tub. 

Placing a hand carefully on the bone of her ankle, he whispered to her despite already being alone in the space. "Y'alright?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, slowing her tapping on her phone before she dropped her phone to rest on her lap, "He was just annoying—he wasn't, like... scaring me or anything." 

"Good, good," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the curve of her leg. 

"Are you okay?" she prodded, settling her hand on his cheek. 

Leaning into her touch without a second thought, he shuttered his eyes in a lingering blink. "'M okay. I don't know why, but it was hard to watch him—or listen to him." 

She tossed him a shrewd glance. "Yeah? You didn't like watching him ask me out?" 

He shook his head, cheeks stretching around his growing grin. "I didn't, actually. It actually made me a little angry. I wanted to punch him when he touched you." 

"Really?!" she bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I didn't think you could get jealous! You're always so calm!" 

"Was I jealous?" he prodded, tugging on her leg in a teasing pull, "Is that what happened?" 

"It sounds like it! You wanted to hit him?" she asked again, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes. 

"Maybe," he mused, "If he'd done anything to upset you, I might have. He was already annoying enough." 

There had to have been something in his answer that she enjoyed seeing as she pressed forward and sealed her mouth to his. He smiled into the contact for a moment, dimples in his cheeks before melting into her touch. Slotting his lips to hers, it was (Y/N) that deepened the kiss with a trace of her tongue over the pillows of his lips. 

The sounds of their lips parting and coming together filtered through the bathroom as Harry reached towards her hand on his face, wrapping his fingers around the fine bones of her wrist. It was when he scraped his teeth over the full of her bottom lip, a small nip, that she parted her crossed legs and drew him between her thighs. 

He was hyper aware of the party going on outside the door, and the fact that this was the apartment of someone he'd never met before, but at the same time Harry didn't care. 

If she liked seeing him jealous this much, he wasn't going to stop her. 

At the movement of her legs, her phone was tossed to the floor, landing on a bathmat at her feet. Neither had acknowledged the thump, until it started vibrating with a call. 

(Y/N) reluctantly pulled away with a sigh, resting her forehead on his. "It's Fran, isn't it?" 

"Probably," he muttered, blindly reaching for her phone before handing it off. 

Harry only had to see the way she pulled in a long breath, an affectionate roll of her eyes, before she pressed the device to her ear that told him their suspicions were right. 

"Hello?" she answered, drifting her hand from his cheek to card through her hair. 

Getting only one side of the conversation, Harry had to put the pieces together while watching the expressions that crossed her face. As far as he could tell, Francesca was especially amusing today. 

"Yes, we're here," (Y/N) continued, nodding along to whatever Fran was bubbling about. "Yes, me and Harry... No, she's not here—as far as I've seen anyway... When are you going to get here?.. We'll still be here; we're just in the bathroom right now." She paused just before a peal of laughter rang through the room, her nails grazing over his scalp. (The touch had a certain shiver streaking down his spine). "No! We're hiding from some F1 guy that keeps inviting us to some race next month... If you want, you can go instead. I don't know if he has a yacht, but I'm sure you could convince him." 

Gazing up at her from where he sat before her, Harry felt his own lips curving into a lopsided smile. He loved seeing her stripped down like this; she'd told him more than once that he was one of the only people he was able to vulnerable and herself around, but he'd seen just how young she was around Francesca. He could see glimpses of who she was before he'd met her, the girl who'd been around before cameras were documenting her every move. 

It had his heart rattling against his ribs. 

With his wandering head, Harry hadn't realized she'd ended her call until she hung up the phone and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. 

"Do you know how many times I've wished I could be in your head?" she told him, a small smile to her lips, "I just want to know what you're thinking—you're so hard to read." 

"'S you," he said, sincerity rivaling the lighthearted tone to her voice,"'S always you."

She looked at him with amusement in her eyes, the same way she always did when he said something adoring: as if she didn't believe him, instead waiting for the joke to land. 

He could do nothing other than surge forward and press his lips to hers. He'd always been better at showing than telling her how he felt. 

—————

thank u sm to whoever requested and for everyone who read to this point! so sorry for any mistakes, and please let me know if you have any fun ideas of your own:)

#anon #writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry fluff #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #bodyguard harry styles #harry styles x reader #love on tour #harrys house #as it was #pleasing

[mizandria]

something that still makes me sick to my stomach is that nobody really needed any evidence for what they were accusing Amber Heard of, nobody bothered to verify anything, half of them didn't even know what the trial was about; they were just happy to unleash all the hatred they have against women once it was socially acceptable to do so. men wanted to torture a pretty female celebrity in a “kill the cheerleader” manner, prove that women are the actual abusers and liars and men are the poor victims who are never believed - conveniently after a wave of women no longer staying silent about the abuse and sexual assault they endured - and they succeeded, partially thanks to all the handmaidens who were happy to throw a woman they knew nothing about under the bus to prove that they are the good kind of feminist who fights for women and men alike and just cares so much about male victims. nobody cited anything else than the few tiktok viral clips that could have been easily disproven like Depp accusing Heard of cutting his finger off, or a few body language expert who were Just Some Guy concerned about their views and not the truth and who conveniently were able to make it seem like Amber smiling or crying or sitting and staring and doing nothing or moving her head by one degree to the side or looking at the jury when she's addressing them is a proof of her being the abuser. when asked what about Amber's testimony doesn't make sense, one of my friends just stared blankly for a good while and only came up with an answer like “oh, like when she said that her dog stepped on a bee”. yeah, we all saw that on a 20-second youtube short too. you'd think that before going on a crusade of death wishes towards someone and comparing her to serial killers people would learn anything about this woman at all, but they just knew NOTHING and it didn't stop them. hope the temporary validation you got from moids was worth all the women you scared into silence, hope it was worth all the rape victims you terrified with your “lol what is she complaining about that just sounds like a dream” tiktoks with Amber's testimony about Depp raping her used as an audio, hope it was worth what happened to Evan Rachel Wood and hundreds of other women, hope it will be worth it when you will just get mocked and called an Amber if you ever decide to stand up for yourself against your abuser.

#the wave of tiktoks about amber's rape testimony was just. the cruelest cruelest cruelest thing they could have done #even if amber was lying (she wasn't) millions of women are not #and what you're saying to them is that rape can be attractive as long as your rapist is #radblr

[elder-millennial-of-zion]

I miss the days, way back when before October 7, when I felt like I was part of leftist circles. I miss feeling energised by leftist slogans because I thought they included me, instead of targeted me.

I miss hearing “eat the rich” and not hearing it as a dog whistle for “kill the Jews.” I miss feeling inspired by phrases like “our struggles for liberation are all connected,” instead of hearing its real meaning, “the Jews are the evil puppet masters behind everything and the world must unite against them.” I miss believing that when leftists talked about punching up at their oppressors, it wasn’t just an excuse to punch down at more vulnerable minorities that they decided were their oppressors despite all evidence to the contrary.

I miss the days when the left poured into the streets to protest cops and corporations instead of protesting Jews. I miss updating myself on those protests so I could join them, instead of to know which areas to avoid because they’ll be Judenrein for the day.

I don’t wish my eyes hadn’t been opened. I’d much rather see the truth no matter how painful and disillusioning it is, because the alternative isn’t actually “bliss.” It’s having a perpetual nagging feeling that something’s off but I can’t put my finger on it, or if I can then I must be overreacting or imagining it’s worse than it is.

But that pain and disillusionment is very real. That loss is very real. It was a community I thought I belonged to, a community I put a lot of work and energy into for many years, and there is grief at the loss of it. Grief that it’s gone, grief that it never was what it claimed to be in the first place. I guess I’m grieving the loss of that part of my identity. And grieving the loss of how people I thought were my friends and allies perceive my identity. Grieving the illusion that they were ever my allies at all, that they ever would be my allies if I needed. Because I haven’t really changed, but the way my former circles look at me completely changed. People who thought I was a good person and a good ally on October 6 decided I was the devil incarnate very literally overnight.

The person who privately reached out to me a few years ago to thank me for a Facebook post I made defending sex workers, because as a former sex worker they appreciated it. Now they’ve been posting antisemitic blood libel, the kind of rhetoric that’s already gotten Jews killed, for six months straight. I tried to tell them how much pain it causes me as a Jew to see their posts, and they only doubled down. It truly is their loss. I was a good friend and a good ally, and they threw me away because I’m a Jew. But it’s totally not because I’m a Jew, it’s because I’m the evil kind of Jew, the kind that just so happens to be the profile of ninety percent of the Jewish population.

I’m grateful I have such a strong sense of Jewish identity, because otherwise the loss of identity in this other way would be far more destabilising. I get why so many people cling to their political identities no matter how much cognitive dissonance they have to wave away; why they insist their ideology is righteous no matter how much evidence to the contrary. Without any other solid identity they would feel too adrift. But that doesn’t excuse their behavior. It’s not ok to jump on a bandwagon to persecute and kill Jews because you want to belong to something that badly, because you can’t handle your sense of self evolving with all the growing pains that come with it.

So many progressive Jews like myself have described ourselves as “politically homeless.” (Specifically in the diaspora; I know the political framework in Israel is completely different.) We can let ourselves sit in that grief. Being homeless is painful and uncomfortable, but it’s better than staying in an abusive home.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #anti zionism is antisemitism #politically homeless Jews #israel #jumblr

[poeticmystery]

I’m on my knees begging for a jealous percy x fem!reader please 🙏🙏

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ ALWAYS BEEN HERE (p.j.)

summary : in which percy and y/n din’t notice each other, even though they’ve always been there.

w.c. : about 1.5k

a/n : first writing in a few months! there’ll probably (definitely) be a part 2 for this but i just needed tk get smth out 😭

requests r still open!

wattpad: poet1cmystery

warning(s) : none!

| riordanverse masterlist | navigation |

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

percy shouldn’t care if you were flirting with another guy. even if that guy was taller, stronger, and older. he shouldn’t care. he really really shouldn’t. the two of you hated each other.

that being said, he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you and luke castellan’s bodies, so close you were practically touching. you laughed at every one of the older boy’s jokes, your lips rounding around your teeth and you smiled widely.

“gods, they’re all over each other,” the boy scoffed, looking to his best friend, tearing his stare away from the sight across the campfire flames.

grover, as unphased as ever, just shrugs. “yeah. have been for a couple weeks now,” he says, shoving a perfectly-roasted marshmallow into his mouth, “‘m happy for them. they seem to like each other.”

“yeah, a lot.” percy adds with a roll of his eyes.

“i don’t get it!” he continues, “why are they so out and the open about it?! that’s too much pda.”

he would act this way with anyone, right? yeah. you guys just shouldn’t be on top of each other like that.

“percy, they’re barely touching,” his satyr friend points out, his voice flat.

“so?- still! grover, you’re supposed to be on my side,” percy insisted.

“alright,” the overall passive boy supports, “i guess they’re kinda close, especially in public.”

“exactly!” percy agreed, enthusiastic while keeping his voice low.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the next time percy saw you and luke together was at the arena. you and percy were sparring, your swords clashing together as sweat fell down the both of you.

suddenly, luke came into frame. he wasn’t in the way, or even in the main part where people would spar. he was sort of off to the sides, but close enough to distract percy.

you were able to pin the boy down, cheering in triumph and getting off of him.

he blinked, his brain catching up to what had just happened. he lay still on the dirt, looking up at you.

“dude, are you gonna get up?”

except it wasn’t your voice, it was luke’s.

luke stood over him, just mere inches away from where you were standing. why did you guys always have to be like that?

it was like the gods were trying to torture him.

luke wasn’t even a good person, not even close to good enough for you. you were sweet, and funny, and you always thought of others. maybe you weren’t that way withh percy, but he wasn’t blind.

“need a hand?” you asked, extending your arms towards him.

he grabbed it silently, pulling himself up.

his mouth opened to say something, to relieve himself of the thoughts swirling through his head. though, he didn’t get the chance to, considering luke came up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“c’mon,” the boy said, his tone slightly harsher than percy preferred.

that stayed with anyone. nobody should be talked to like that, even if he constantly butted heads with them.

surpising not only you, but his self aswell, he shot you an apologetic glance.

you just let it slide off, as if you hadn’t seen anything at all.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

later on that week, he saw you and luke arguing about something.

the two of you shouted at each other, words percy couldn’t pick up. luke was looking st you, a flame in his eye, as if he didn’t care at all.

percy knew you saw it to, because you held your hand up, then stormed off.

he couldn’t lie, he felt bad. you didn’t deserve that. you deserved someone better, someone who would care.

that clearly wasn’t luke.

should he comfort you? you looked upset.

he should atleast ask if you were alright.

so that’s what he did.

he slowly approached you, as if you would turn and get angry at him for doing so. you were turned away, your back facing him as you chewed anxiously on your nail.

“y/n?” he called out, standing a couple feet away from you.

you spun on your heel, your tear-brimmed eyes not going unnoticed by percy. he didn’t comment on it, wanting to at least let you have something.

“i uh, heard what happened. you alright?” the boy asked, his hand reaching up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck, awaiting your response.

he watched as your facade changed, pulling your hand away from your lips sighing deeply.

“yeah, i guess. he was an asshole, so i mean, it was bound to happen,” you said, trying to assure you weren’t sad. your voice cracked as you spoke, something you tried to cover with a small laugh.

after years of arguing with you, percy had gotten used to all the small things about you. how you were when you were lying, when you were sad, angry, anything.

so, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“want a, uh, hug or something?”

that wasn’t weird, right?

of course not.

he was just comforting you. he’d do it with anyone, obviously. he wasn’t a monster. he wasn’t about to just let you stand there in yiur sadness.

you just nodded, hesitantly wrapping your arms around the boy’s neck.

the embrace was a stiff, but comforting nonetheless. it was good to know there was at least someone who believed you and din’t blame you for the split.

you knew in just a few hours time people would start asking luke what happened, and fall victim to his charm, just as you had.

percy waited until you pulled away first, not wanting you to feel like he was just doing this to do it. he truly didn’t mind holding you for longer, and over a few seconds he tightened his arms, making it feel more natural.

after a moment, you unraveled your arms from him, sending him a soft smile to accompany your soft words.

“thank you, percy.”

he took in your appearance, his eyes roaming all around your face. a small tear had made its’ way down your cheek, something that he didn’t fail to notice, but also didn’t want to comment on.

after all, you two weren’t close. what would he do if you started crying? he didn’t have time to think about it, as you turned and walked quickly towards your cabin, as if you had been itching to get away.

he saw you next at the campfire, a few days later. considering the amount of time that had passed, he just assumed that you were taking time to comprehend everything.

when you sat across the fire from him, you looked completely fine. as if nothing had happened.

your friends swarmed around you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. percy assumed they hadn’t seen you either.

you laughed and chatted with the other half-bloods around you, but it all looked strained to percy. maybe he just wasn’t used to you smiling in any way except sarcastically, or the stuff with like was still hitting you hard.

luke.

percy’s mind roamed. what had you even seen in him? he couldn’t have been that funny. and he certainly wasn’t the nicest guy around.

was it his looks? percy asked himself. he knew luke was attractive, but that couldn’t be it.

his thoughts vanished as he heard someone say your name.

they seemed to do that now a days. he chalked it up to you going through rough time.

he heard your name again, and saw you sort of pretending you didn’t hear it. your conversation with your friends continued, not paying any mind to someone trying to get your attention.

rude, the boy thought, his previous feelings for you resurfacing.

his negativity towards you dissolved as he saw who was bidding for you.

luke.

why did everything revolve around luke?

he didn’t know why, but percy wanted to help you.

him and luke weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies. so, he approached the other boy, sparking up a conversation. he said everything he could think of, anything that would get luke off of your back.

as much as percy disliked you, he disliked seeing you cry even more. so, if he stopped someone from making you cry, it was a win-win.

he walked off with luke, looking back to see if anyone was looking at him and the other boy. when he did, he locked eyes with you, and noticed a small smile blooming from your lips.

he offered one back, then watched as you turned back to your friends.

maybe you guys weren’t so against each other anymore.

percy couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

percy jackson taglist: none, lmk if you’d like to be added!

#percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson x you #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson blurbs #luke castellan #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase #heroes of olympus imagines #leo valdez imagines #piper mclean x reader

[helen-with-an-a]

First Time Crush pt 2

Hi. So it's a little short, but I think it's quite cute. Again, if your name is Ellie, I apologise but it's a very common name for 20-24 yr olds in the UK

Barca Femeni x Reader; OC x Reader

Description: R is trying to text Ellie

Word Count: 1.5k

Part 1 : Part 2

It had been 3 days. 3 days of you sitting and staring at your phone with Ellie’s number saved in it. It’s not that you didn’t want to text her – you so desperately wanted to text her – it was more that you didn’t know how. You didn’t really do … whatever you were attempting to do. Everyone at Barca knew you didn’t really initiate hangouts or things like that. They were more than happy to sort it all for you. Your birthday meal – Alexia had texted everyone saying when and where to meet; your turn to organise team bonding – Ingrid had taken over for you, telling everyone what to bring and when to turn up at your flat; you wanted to do go exploring on your day off – Ona had created the group chat. It’s not that you didn’t want to; it’s that you just … couldn’t.

“Have you texted your uno amor verdadero yet?” Jana called across the locker room. You blushed heavily, turning your head away from the group. Their eyes fell on you, waiting for a response. Your silence spoke volumes.

“Amiga, it’s been 3 days,” Pina said exacerbated.

“I know,” you said meekly, well aware of how many days it had been

“She’s going to think you don’t like her,” Martina added.

“I know,” you replied even more dejectedly. That was something you really didn’t want to happen. You really liked Ellie. You really, really liked Ellie. You wanted to hold her hand and make her laugh. You wanted to see her smile as you handed her her morning coffee and help her with her Spanish. You wanted her to kiss you on the cheek for good luck like you saw Olga do for Alexia. You wanted her to push your sweaty hair back from your face when you went up to her in the crowd after a match like you saw Mapi do for Ingrid. You wanted her to press a sweet kiss to your lips as she drew you into a congratulatory hug like Cata’s girlfriend did with her.

“She’s probably waiting for you to text her,” Bruna added.

“I know,” you said so quietly it was barely audible. They really weren’t helping you at the moment. To them, it was simple – a pretty girl you liked gave you her number, so why weren’t you using it?

Social anxiety has plagued you since you first interacted with peers your age. At nursery, you hung behind your parent’s legs as the other children ran wild. In primary school, you were fine doing keepy-uppies by yourself all break and lunch. In secondary school, you were hardly ever there, often being taught by the academy tutors instead, so you never had to make friends. On the field, you thrived; you were cool, calm, and collected. Football was predictable; football had a routine; football had patterns to figure out and break down. People did not. People did strange things like wear your England jersey to tour club games; people broke from their patterns of wearing said jersey that threw you off; people held your hand and wrote their number on their arm; people did unexpected things.

“You have to text her,” Vicky sighed. God, even a child had more experience in this type of things than you did.

“I know,” you mouthed – the sound not coming out. You felt your eyes sting, and you willed yourself not to cry. It was so silly, crying over texting someone. Ellie had told you to text her. She was awaiting your message. Ellie wanted you to text her.

“Per la merda, give it here.” Patri said after a few too many moments of silence. She snatched your phone from your bag without waiting for a response. They had chosen their time to question you well, having waited until the older girls were out of the changing room to go for lunch so they couldn’t be scolded as they began their interrogation.

“No, Patri,” you begged. You knew exactly what she was going to do, and it was exactly what you didn’t want. You wanted to do this by yourself, not have someone take over again. You needed to step up and do this. But every time you clicked on Ellie’s contact, you froze—the paralysing fear taking over once again.

“Sí, Patri.” She smiled, running back to her little group with your phone as they typed away. You floundered; what could you do? They severely outnumbered you. And your go-to protectors – Alexia, Ingrid, Irene, Paños – were all out of the room and likely wouldn’t be coming to look for you for a good 10 to 20 minutes yet. As your mind spiralled into chaos, thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong with them texting Ellie, you missed Alexia and Ingrid slipping back into the room.

It was obvious what was happening. You were almost in tears, clutching onto the bench so tightly your knuckles were white – and a little group stood in a tight circle, eyes flicking back to you occasionally as they whispered and giggled to each other. They loved you like you were their little sister – they could annoy the shit out of you, teasing and causing small meaningless arguments like they would with their actual sisters. But if they saw anyone else doing it – this meant war.

“Qué está pasando?” Alexia shouted. It would have been comical had you not been so upset. Patri’s head snapped up; Alexia could see the colour draining despite standing by the door.

“Å kjære. Kom hit,” Ingrid rushed to your side, pulling your trembling form into her body before glaring daggers at the group in the corner.

“Patricia Guijarro,” Alexia’s voice was ominous. “Vine aquí.” Patri gulped; Alexia wasn’t supposed to back this soon. “Per què cariño pràcticament plora?” She was speaking in Catalan, so you couldn’t understand her very well, but you recognised ‘cariño’ and knew you were the topic of that conversation. Patri’s response was a flood of rapid Catalan, the two of them descending into a harsh argument. It made you even more stressed – you didn’t mean to be the cause of a rift within the team. All because you couldn’t text a girl who willingly gave you her number when you hadn’t even asked.

“Relax, Kjæreste. Everything is fine.” Ingrid soothed, sensing your increasing agitation.

The angry voices eventually died as Patri came to stand before you. She waited for you to look at her – expecting to see your watery eyes and wobbling lip. When you didn’t emerge from Ingrid’s chest, even long after the socially acceptable time limit, Patri could tell they may have fucked up a little.

“Um … lo siento, pensábamos que te estábamos ayudando,” you didn’t look like you had even heard her. She tried again, in English this time, hoping that maybe you just didn’t understand her (her English comprehension dipped considerably when she felt any extreme emotion).

“I’m … we’re … really, really sorry, chica. We thought we were helping—we don’t want this opportunity to disappear for you. I’m so, so sorry.” You heard her the first time, but it was nice to hear her say it in English, too. You lifted your head from Ingrid’s neck, straightened a little, and adjusted your top.

“It’s …” You were going to tell her that it was fine—that she hadn’t technically done anything wrong. But Alexia and Ingrid both shuffled a little, letting you know their displeasure and that everything was not fine. “Thank you,” you settled on—giving Patri a weak smile and nodding at the others, all sheepishly standing as far away from you as possible in the small room.

You were going to speak again when your phone buzzed.

Y/N: Hi. This is Y/N. I absolutely loved talking to you the other day at the match and wondered if you wanted to continue it? Maybe over coffee? I know a few places that sell good stuff and aren’t too busy.

Ellie: Nice try. Ik this isn’t Y/N – my guess is Pina, Bruna or Patri. My girl definitely can’t ask me out like that. But tell her, yes, I would like to go out for coffee with her tho. After ur next home game? xxx

Her girl? You liked the sound of that. You took a deep breath and typed your response.

Y/N: Hi

Y/N: Yes pls to the coffee

You waited a little before rushing to add,

Y/N: It’s actually me now btw

Ellie: Ik – my girl txts exactly as she talks x

You blushed, the world around you fading into obscurity as you texted. You missed the soft smiles and caring looks the others gave each other. You sighed happily, looking up to see all eyes were on you again.

“Ayyyyyy,” Patri cheered.

“Cariño tiene novia” Alexia sang happily, reaching around Ingrid to pinch at your pink cheeks.

“Ingrid, make them stop.” You muttered as you watched the younger girls dance around singing about how they got you a girlfriend.

“No chance, kjære.” She smiled, bringing you into a gentle hug. “Just wait until Maps and Lucy hear about this.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #ingrid engen x reader #patri guijarro x reader #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #patri guijarro #claudia pina #woso soccer #woso fluff #womens football #woso oneshot #woso one shot #engwnt x reader

[forsworned]

Okay, okay, hear me out . I neeed a y/n sweet innocent thing who works with 141 (probably computer shit) idk but she wanted to step out her shell & goes out drinking with the boys were she loses a bet with soap & he makes y/n wear a skimpy outfit like those " hot nurse or maid" outfits around the team for a day and it makes price and/or ghost go absolutely feral . The end. Please and thank you p s love your writing.

Author's note: You know normally I do not do these sort of requests because I think that the whole like oh y/n needs to dress in something slutty because she lost a bet schtick is like somewhat demeaning. Like I'm all for it happening to the 141 or whatever but, I put my own spin on it, so even if you don't enjoy it I will but thank you for supporting me anon <3 also screaming at the images I chose for this hahaha

Despite the fact that being in the military was a constant inner battle of not becoming a barrack bunny, it made it a bit easier knowing that 90% of the men were just straight-up fucking whores. So when you lose 7-6 in back-to-back rounds of Blackjack to Johnny, he thinks it's funny to propose a bet that leaves you practically bare-ass naked to every soldier on base.

"'ll be like wearin' a bikini." He says.

To which you can give him a piercing glare that sends an unpleasant shudder up his spine, but regardless he's laughing his ass off. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence that Johnny is winning bets against you so he's taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass you just as much as you do him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls are heard from the common area that the 141 was currently lounging in, and their ears perk up at the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, you really wore it, bonnie." Johnny eyes are twinkling and his grin is stretched from ear to ear when he gets a gander at you.

You're wearing the sluttiest maid outfit you could have ever conjured up from many, many, many Halloween's ago when you were in your Chicks Gone Wild Era (iykyk) and Price, Kyle and Simon are flabbergasted by your appearance. Kyle is dropping his spoon that he just stirred his coffee with, Simon is half turning the page to his book and Price just straight up chokes on his London Fog, sputtering it all over his MacBook.

"Fuck you." You mutter, plopping down on the couch next to Simon as you readjust the mobcap on your head. Your dress is riding up as you sit, but you cross your legs and Price is handing you a pillow to cover yourself up to which you sheepishly smile up at him and thank him.

"Why are ye complainin'? Y'look good, bonnie."

"You put her up to this?" Kyle asks, bewildered at the situation unfolding.

"Lookin' good, Serg!" A passing herd of soldiers call out to you as they chuckle amongst themselves and continue to whistle at you.

You shake your head and turn to Johnny with an exasperated look. "Is this what you wanted? To embarrass me?"

"It's not very becoming of you, Johnny." Price murmurs against his mug before taking a sip but it's evident that his face is reddening by the second by your scanty appearance.

"Oh, she does it to me all th' time!" Johnny throws his hands up in half frustration and half amusement.

But Simon on the other hand is silent. He doesn't really know what to say, but he's starting to feel the warmth rushing between his legs.

"L.t., thoughts?"

And Johnny knows exactly what the fuck he's doing while he's shooting him that shit-eating grin that makes Simon want to fucking bumrush the absolute shit out of the Scotsman.

Admittedly this has Kyle and Price's tongues poking their cheeks as they await his answer.

"Y'r a fuckin' slag, Johnny."

And that causes the room to erupt into laughter as you're all clapping your knees and keeling over. Johnny is slightly embarrassed by the jab, but nonetheless, is laughing along. It was nice to have a little laugh in the 141.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #sergeant soap #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price #simon riley x reader #captain price #captain price x reader #poly141 #x female reader #poly shenanigans #poly 141 x reader #crack fic

[shojizbae]

Too Sweet

Spencer Reid x reader

It was no secret to the team that you had a sweet tooth. Anytime you walked past an ice cream shop, your eyes lit up with unbridled joy. After a hard case, you always came into the bullpen with a box of sweets. Donuts if you solved a case under five days, Hush Puppies if there was a fallen family, or maybe some Snickerdoodles if there was arson. They were always the same pink bakery boxes with a cellophane window.

Today was no different.

"Good morning!" you signed songed as you skipped into the bullpen and too the right to the kitchen.

"What treats have you cooked up today mama?" Derek rubs his hands as he closes in on the kitchenette

"Oooh, sweets!" Emily smiles and skips over to the counter

"They're macarons."

"Ugh, those nasty almond cookies." JJ giggles as she snoops around the box

"No those are macaroons." I correct and hold a raspberry-pink macron at her. She bites it playfully out of my hand and laughs with me. She wipes the extra creme out of the corner of her lip and thanks me.

"Woah those are delicious." she goes back to her office.

"What diabetes are you giving us today." Hotch tosses a file on the counter as he walks by.

"Pistachio, raspberry, or lemon?" I smack Emily's greedy hand away as he goes back for a fourth and fifth.

"Pistachio." He leans back to look in the box "Those look professional."

"That's what happens when you have an existential crisis and take a baking course while completing your doctorate and feel like no man would ever want to marry a woman with more degrees than 'wifely skills'." You rattle mindlessly

"Well, that was our daily depressing moment of (Y/n)!" Derek chides like a sports announcer.

"Where's Reid?"

"An that's our daily 'first Spencer question' being the tally!" Emily holds a ghost microphone up.

"C'mon,"I put my hands on the counter and leans my hips forward, "I'm not as obsessed as you think I am."

"Oh, just only a little." Emily placates. The two return to their desks to grind through the many stacks of folders. I picked up the box and reorganized the disheveled cookies. I sauntered over to his hunched back. Dr. Reid, my work husband, was mangled over his desk scratching down details of a past case on a legal pad. I sit on the right side of his corner-shaped desk.

"Good Morning Spencer," I chide. He jumps slightly with the high timbre of my voice.

"Uh good morning Agent (L/n)," He clears his throat a few times.

"I made macrons," I held up the box "Would you like one? I made some with lemon, pistachio, and raspberry. Take your pick." I brandish the box once again.

"That's alright I haven't had any real breakfast yet."

"op how about some fake breakfast?" I pick up a light yellow circle and shake it twice in my hand.

"No that's really ok," but before he can protest I force half the cookie past his lips and all that he can mutter out is a disgruntled, mouth-filled groan.

"Did that taste real to you?" He sassily holds up a finger as he chews and swallows.

"That was rude." He states but takes the second half of the treat from my hand and finishes it off. A bit of the filling slings to his lips and I slide my thumb over it

"You've got a little something-" My speech is caught when his brown eyes meet mine. He looks nice below me. His eyelashes are thick but his eye bags drown out his cool amber eyes.

"Sorry," I clear my throat and lean back on the desk. "Would you like some more?"

"Yeah, can I have the pistachio one?" He rolls around on his chair. He takes a bite of the cream-filled delectable. "Woah you have a real knack for this. It's like all the ingredients want to be together. It just takes you to make things right." He gives me that dorky smile and I lose all sense of restraint. I dive in and hold his chin while I kiss him. I pull back with the fear that I stepped out of bounds.

"Come here." He tentatively holds my jaw and his kiss is much nicer than mine. He releases me and I scan between each of his eyes. "You had a little something."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #baking

[belovedcloud]

A Kiss Goodnight | Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Fluff for Leon since he's a cutie. I picture RE2 (after Racoon City) or RE4 Leon in this but you can choose which ever one you like more.

WC: 1.1K

CW: Leon being a sweetheart? Pet names, kisses (duh), angst/fluff. Mentions of Leon's struggles after RC.

➽───────────────────────❥

Working for the government was hard, especially after just getting dragged into it without a choice. Life was hard for Leon ever since that fateful night where he believed he shouldn't have lived. Luck was too kind to him, but the consequences of luck is always regret. Mission after mission, bioweapon after bioweapon Leon was tired. All he could think about was getting back to you. You were his saving grace, his only way to escape the pain. Even if it was only for a second, a minute, a hour, a day. You helped in a way where he was indebted to you for the rest of his life. Driving home, all he could think about was you. How you warmed him up after a hard time shooting and murdering anything that was diseased. He was yours, and you were his.

Leon shortly arrived home, sluggish in his movements as he took off his work boots and coat. His bag thrown into the corner of the doorway as he sighed heavily. Finally, his body could relax. Tense movements slowly turned into tired movements as he brought himself to the bathroom. Seeing a new cut on his face and blood and mud splatted on him. It never really was a nice sight. The house was silent, you were asleep. Something that wasn't unusual as the clock ticked to 3 AM. You never really knew if Leon would come back from his mission, that sense of worry hung low over you. Causing distress as every call you received could be Hunnigan's voice. Informing you of Leon's death, but you were lucky enough to not have that, not yet at least. As you slept peacefully, Leon showered and cleansed himself from his own sin. His murderous intent and sorrow washing down along with the dirt covering his body. The towel gently wrapping around his waist, he walked into your shared bedroom. Where you laid asleep, seeming to be cuddling a pillow in hopes of getting the same satisfaction of Leon having you in his arms.

Leon couldn't help but smile looking at you as he walked past the bed to his dresser, getting a pair of boxers and sweatpants. Quickly changing to soon sink himself to his side of the bed. Soft. Everything was soft around him. The pillow his head laid on, the new sheets and most importantly you. Getting under the covers he felt your bare skin touch his. Your shorts and t-shirt hugging you in a cozy way. Without thought, he wrapped his arms around your body. Nuzzling his face into your neck, there was no intention of waking you up... But it was bound to happen as he gripped you tightly. Giving you no chance to escape you whined as you woke up.

"Sorry baby... You just looked so warm." He mumbled into your neck as he gave a sweet kiss on your skin. Wriggling yourself to at least turn around to face him, you notice the fresh cut on his face. "What happened?" You whispered, still in a half sleepy state. It always worried you seeing him hurt, but Leon always reassured you he was okay. "Just a cut from the mission, nothing to worry about." He softly smiled, you couldn't help but replicate the smile. A gentle kiss on the nose is what Leon felt from your smooth lips. "You okay?" You asked as your hands wandered down his chest, carefully wrapping your arms around him. Ensuring you weren't going to hurt him in the process. "Everything is okay when I'm with you..." He murmured, slowly enveloping you in a sweet kiss. "God.. I missed you so much, you smell so good" He whispered to you in a gentle tone. Much different to the aggression towards the bioweapons he previously fought only hours before.

"I missed you too.. so much." You whispered back, a giggle following short afterwards as you felt him playing with your hair. "I love you." Was all Leon could say as he admired you in his arms, admiring his lover was his favourite thing to do in this situation. "I love you more." You poked at his cheek as you kissed him again. Soft kisses with him were heavenly, otherworldly. The clock ticked 3:30 AM, it really was time to sleep. Mellowed breathing was soon shared between you two as you held each other. Enjoying the comfort of one another as you were glad he returned home. He was glad for everything. Glad to live in a lifetime with you in it - he would protect you no matter the cost.

"Can't sleep?" You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling him stare at you. "No, kinda hard to." He muttered, relapsing the past mission in his mind. "Wanna talk about it?" Rubbing his arm always calmed him down, made him feel safe for once. Safe from the horrors of this world that he swore in his heart nobody else should face or see. That he would be the one to protect people, to save people. Even if that meant him deteriorating his own mental stability. At least others would be saved. But he didn't need to be the hero with you. He could just be Leon. A man who was lost in his own train of thought, still a young boy in his heart yearning for answers to why he was chosen to face dread at every moment of his life. Sadly, beggars can't be choosers. Although he had one choice in his life, and that was you. He would always choose you. Always. "Not right now.. Just wanna have you in my arms." You felt a peck on your forehead, a grin spreading across your face. "Okay. Well I'm always here for you Leon." Reassurance was vital for you and Leon. The slightest amount of praise to Leon was all he needed to crumble into your arms. He could be himself with you. "Thank you Y/N, I really appreciate you. So much." His voice cracked, tears slowly gathering in his eyes. What did he do in his last life to deserve you? Gentle hands caressed his face as he wept, your kisses taking away the pain.

Minutes passed, Leon's cries slowly disappeared as he cuddled you. Staring into each others eyes, you felt yourself slowly slip into a sleepy state. Same with Leon, he couldn't hold his eyes open much longer. Not when you gave him a warm like no-one else did. "I have one request." He hushed out as he rubbed your back with his calloused hands. "Mm?" You murmured out, melting into his touch.

"One more kiss goodnight?"

➽───────────────────────❥

Someone tell this man everything is gonna be okay.

#resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst

[coco-loco-nut]

Mama

pairing: Pierre x reader

summary: Pierre and his annoyed, heavily pregnant, wife

TW: references to spicy activities, pregnancy, cussing, use of French learned via Duolingo and high-school French class from like 4 years ago

————————

“I regret ever letting your French ass charm me,” you scowl at your husband who picked you up at the train station in London. He had been away for a week, and initially you did miss your husband, but the pregnancy began to really wear on you this week.

“I missed your too, mamour,” Pierre kisses you, taking your bags and placing them in his rental car.

“I should’ve stayed home,” you grumble as he helps you into the car. You missed your French home, the villa was sunny and it wasn’t England, but you promised your sweet husband you would come to Silverstone. He came straight from

Pierre knows you are hurting, the third trimester taking a toll on you, so he doesn’t take any of your words to heart, instead he intends on showing you how much he loves you.

“I wish I were home too,” Pierre squeezes your hand gently once he is in the car. He has been hoping and praying that the baby comes during the summer break, just so he can spend time with you. You hadn’t been to a race since Imola and Monaco and you were able to hide the pregnancy pretty easily with flowy dresses. Despite being pregnant with twins, you didn’t balloon up until right after.

“What would Mrs. Glasly and the Baby Gasly’s like to do first, get to the hotel or get some food?” Pierre asks and you think about it for a second.

“Mmm food. Chicken nuggets and fries, preferably,” you give Pierre puppy dog eyes despite telling him you hated him moments ago.

“There is a McDonald’s in the next town over from Silverstone. I won’t tell if you don’t,” Pierre says, you swear in that moment that you fall in love with him all over again.

“I would never,” you gasp before yawning a little. At this point, you could take a nap anywhere, despite being extremely uncomfortable with the babies dropping. Some luck happened and your thirty-sixth week of pregnancy falls at the very start of summer break.

“Take a nap, chérie, we have about an hour and a half,” Pierre tells you as he pulls out of the parking lot, turning the music on softly. You don’t need to be told twice as you doze off. You don’t even wake up to Pierre ordering a ridiculous amount of food at McDonald’s, you only wake up when he gently shakes your shoulder.

“Mon ange, tu dois te lève,” Pierre says gently, coaxing you awake.

“Mm, mon bonhuer, feed me and take me to bed,” you say sleepily, a sly smile on your face.

“The things you do to me,” Pierre groans, getting out of the car. You carry the food into the hotel from the garage so his trainer can’t yell at him.

“Y/n! How are you doing?” Charles comes up beside you. He knew about the pregnancy, despite Pierre and you keeping it under wraps, only because the both of you attended dinner at the Leclerc’s house during the Monaco GP. It's only natural, you were Pierre's childhood best friend. Charles was Pierre's childhood best friend, you tolerated the both of them.

“How do you think,” you glare at the Monégasque.

“Maman asked me to give you this, and I added a little something too,” Charles says, handing Pierre a bag and kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, Charlot,” Pierre waves to his friend, guiding you to the hotel room.

“Pierre, this is so good,” you practically moan as you eat the nuggets.

“You gotta stop talking like that, you’re driving me nuts,” he groans. You grin, biting into a fry.

“Or what?” your tease, his eyes darken. As soon as you both finish your dinner, he is kissing you.

“Pierre!” you groan, he helps you stand up, moving towards the bed.

"Do you want to do this?" Pierre looks at you with concern.

"Pierre, I am not a glass doll, I am pregnant and horny and I miss your cuddles, and I haven't seen you in weeks. I think you know what I want," you look Pierre in the eyes who is quick to help you into a safe, yet comfortable position. It is safe to say that the two of you missed each other very, very much.

You woke up in the morning, a rare occurrence of sleeping through the night, to your husband's arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

"Pierre," you nudge him. He hums, only half awake. "If you don't let me go, I may puke on this bed," you whisper to him. Pierre quickly wakes up and helps you to the bathroom. He had to get up soon anyway for the race.

"You ok?" Pierre continues rubbing your back after you've puked.

"I look like shit, feel like shit, and you watched me puke, I think the answer is no," you groan, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Why don't we shower, then I'll order some breakfast while I get ready?" Pierre offers, helping you undress and get into the shower. Like the gentleman he is, he helps you clean where you can't reach anymore, and in return, you scrub the shampoo into his hair.

The two of you eat quickly and get ready for the day. You both get in a chauffeured car and head to the circuit, you left a little later than usual due to eating breakfast in the hotel instead of in the paddock. Cameras capture the two of you walking in, more like you waddling as Pierre walks with an arm around you. He heads into a strategy meeting while you rest on the couch in his room.

"Apparently social media is blowing up over pictures of us walking in. They may love pregnant you more than I do, and that is nearly impossible," Pierre tells you when he gets back, the F2 race playing quietly in the background.

"I'm glad someone is enjoying it, because I want them out," you groan as they kick you simultaneously. Pierre helps you stand up and wraps his arms around you, hands under your bump. You relax into his chest, letting him take some of the pressure off of your body for a little bit. His touch always seems to calm the babies down.

"I know, just another month, then we will have our precious babies. You are doing incredibly, you will be the best mom," he praises you causing you to blush.

"They will have the coolest daddy," you hum, enjoying the temporary relief.

"Pierre, you gotta do your warm-ups," his trainer knocks on the doorframe. "Y/n, I can help you with some stretches that may provide some relief and better mobility," the trainer offers as Pierre slowly lowers your stomach, trying to ease the weight back. You follow Pierre and his trainer to the weight room. The trainer mainly focuses on helping you, claiming Pierre knew what he was doing, only stepping away when a spotter was required. Apparently, his wife was recently pregnant so he did a lot of research to help her.

"Congratulations, Y/n, you and Pierre will make great parents," despite neither of you particularly caring for Esteban, you thanked him anyway and wished him a good race. Pierre took you on some light strolls across the paddock, frequently being stopped by drivers, before the race where you sat in the garage and watched with his team. Pierre got in the points and you both celebrated by going home to France and sleeping.

By the time summer break rolled around, the nursery was filled with gifts from drivers and teams. Charles was begging the both of you to either name one of your babies after him or name him godfather. He was pleased to learn he was going to be named godfather regardless. A few days into break, your babies decided it was time to meet the world.

"Pierre, car, now," you look at your husband from the passenger seat.

"Charles! I am panicking! Yes, I am getting in the car. Fine you, can talk to y/n while I drive," Pierre says, frazzled, as he drives away from your home, the back seat filled with what you might need, two car seats already installed.

"Hello Charles," you say into the phone, quite amused despite the contractions becoming more frequent.

"Hi y/n, are you ready to meet the two rascals who have been torturing you for months? You will get to be a mom to three babies, god knows Pierre needs his mom right now," Charles laughs, helping to distract you as Pierre flies down roads.

"Mhmm, I'm excited to know the genders if anything. Are you still coming out later this week?" You ask him, the conversation oddly calm.

"I'm getting my plane ready now, I have to be there to meet my godchildren," Charles informs you and you feel another contraction coming on.

"Great, I'll be sure to hold them in for you. I gotta go, see you soon," you laugh through the pain, quickly hanging up. Pierre cut off an impossible amount of time, granted you didn't live too far from the hospital. Pierre is more stressed than you are, it's cute.

After 6 hours of labor, you and Pierre have greeted the most beautiful babies, at least in your eyes. The love of your life has now expanded to include the little bundles.

"Congratulations," Charles says, the first to arrive since you and Pierre didn't live too close to your families.

"Meet your godchildren, Anthoine Romeo and Genevieve Charlie," you smile tiredly at Pierre, who helped you through your labor, even as you screamed some very nasty things at him.

"They are perfect," Charles looks at you, a little teary as he holds Genevieve, "thank you," he says softly.

"We named them after the two people who have always stood beside us," you say, Pierre fascinated by his son. You really were the luckiest woman alive.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly imagines #charles leclerc