#also i like his italian voice so maybe it's that

[spilledmilkfkdies]

Is my own personal headcanon but Duman is italian in my head and now the immagine of him calling up Anagan just so they can have lunch togheter is stuck in my head. Duman: hey idiot i am making risotto wanna come over? Anagan *already there before he finish speaking* Go fricking heavy with the cheese.

THIS is what I'm talking about, absolutely DELIGHTFUL take!! Obsessed with them meeting up for meals, whether it's home-cooked, going out to a restaurant, ordering in. It works.

Also Italian Duman is valid. Idk where he's from, I haven't thought about it that much myself, but Italian is good.

[wheucto]

i think in ii, culture has no effect on what type of object an object is

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yo what the fuck lmfao not the tiny little actor kid playing eddie in the it movies voicing alberto a la luca. zero recognition like kind of could deepfake it in my head litchrelly i mean like those actor children being quite small & then even recording something a few years later like alright yeah voice just dropped a ways already but i definitely had to stare intently at the [looking that up] textual confirmation. absolutely zero resonance at the time a whole like month ago lol go figure. congrats on the bisexuality too he/they king

[peaches-creek]

When he walks through the door, you are cooking. Smells like something Italian but maybe not. He hears the bubbling of a pot and a searing of a pan. He crouches as he takes off his boots, caked in dirt and stinking of something foreign. He can’t greet you after a month like this, covered in grease and smelling of gunpowder and sweat. You heard him drop his duffle bag. He hears do drop the spoon you were using and the pitter-patter of your feet coming to greet him. Your smiling face turns the corner.

“You’re home.” You gently say as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into your arms with his face in your neck. You pull his mask off and give a kiss to his temple.

“I smell.” He says.

“Everyone smells,” she quips, “lemme hold you for a minute.” He lets her do exactly that.

After a minute or so he tells her she needs to finish cooking, and that he needs to shower. They can have a meal together and then take a well deserved nap together.

While he’s in the shower he takes his time decompressing. Trying to become Simon after a month of being Lt. Ghost. He thinks of what you might be cooking instead of the mistake he made that almost costed Price his life. He uses your conditioner and gingerbread body wash, knowing that you wouldn’t mind. You never do. It shocks him, every time, when he thinks of how much you Love him. You know what he does, and you still call him your “cutie-patootie.”

By the time he’s out of the shower, dinner is on the table, warm and on his favorite blue plates. You made him lemon breaded chicken and garlic parmesan pasta, his second favorite dish, first being his mother’s meatloaf.

“You smell familiar.” You laugh.

“This smells great,” he states, “not as good as me though.”

You place a kiss on his lips.

“Okay now that you have kissed the chef, you may eat your meal.” You move to the other side of the table, sitting across from him.

“Catch me up, what did I miss?” He says.

You spend the next half an hour talking his ear off as he shovels food into his face. He prefers that, not only does he like hearing your voice but it also helps him settle in. Hearing all the things that you did around the house, putting up new pictures, the ones that you took when you guys went to see the Eiffel Tower. You also got a few new plants, and told him that you waited for him to get home so you could name them together. You also said how you started watching some new documentary that he had to see.

He spent his whole life moving from one place to another, barely living. Now he has you. You move him and he moves you. Once he was finished with his plate, you took it to the sink and placed it on top of the others, you can do those later, it’s time to put your man to bed. He deserves it.

“Okay now, let’s get you to bed.” You pull him up and drag him to your shared bed. It’s quite a funny thing to see, such a large man getting dragged through the halls just to be tucked into bed.

You reach your destination. You let go of his hand and pull the covers back. You settle yourself in first, waving your hand to tell him to come in. You then maneuver him to put his head on your chest.

“All settled in?” You ask. He nods his head. No words needed. He was exactly where he needed to be. You begin to rub his back as he slowly finds himself falling into a sweet sleep, courtesy of you.

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[ddejavvu]

HI!!! Please can i request an awkward!glasses reid oneshot where he’s like pining over the reader?? maybe with a bit of tension ;))) but he like slips up and says something like ‘god ur beautiful?’ THANK UUUU

The rain pouring down in massive, silvery sheets does nothing to dull your halo, Spencer thinks. Actually, it might make it shine brighter, a haze of mist clouding your form as you traipse through the downpour.

"Seattle sucks!" You gush, raising a hand to smear away the wet strands of your hair that cling to your face, "God, why can't Arizona have another murderer running around?"

"The rain is actually a good forensic countermeasure - it washes the blood away so that he can drag the body wherever he wants and we won't be able to follow his trail." Spencer has to shout to be heard over the splattering of water upon the sidewalk, and he tries not to cry as he feels water seeping into his boots. Rossi had treated the entire team to a pair of galoshes after his precious Italian leather shoes became mottled with mud, and though they're helpful for trekking through the storm, they're also fantastic at catching rainwater.

"I hate it when serial killers are smarter than us!" You plunge your hand into the pocket of your jacket, digging out the key fob for the car. You unlock it with a beep and the taillights shine in the storm. You're more than happy to throw the door open and slip out of your jacket, taking minimal rain damage to your outfit as you slide swiftly onto the driver's seat of the van.

Spencer hears you let out a groan as the car roars to life, and so does the heater. You throw your head back against the seat, hair stringy and soaked, face dripping with rain.

One droplet slides down your nose and dips between the curve of your lips, something you can't bring yourself to care about as the heater blasts the chill from your blood. He watches you melt into the seat, and only one thought comes to mind: "You're beautiful."

His voice is a quiet murmur, and he's also speaking over the torrential downpour outside, so you don't catch what he says, thankfully. He doesn't know why his brain had miscalculated his thought and sent it down through his mouth instead of just his head, but he fumbles to snatch the opportunity you give him to save himself.

"Hm?" You turn to look at him, brows slightly raised in curiosity.

"My boots are full!" He blurts, cheeks red but not from the heat as he reaches for one of his rain-soaked shoes, "I- I- There's rainwater in my- my boots, and I need to-" He tugs the rubber off of his foot and turns it upside-down outside of the car so that it splashes off of the pavement, and he jams it back over his soaked sock while furiously avoiding eye contact.

Your pants were looser than Spencer's own, and you'd been able to tuck them over the mouth of your boots. Yours aren't even remotely soggy inside, so you laugh incredulously as he releases his tsunami before you drive off.

"Spence, that's insane," You watch as he stuffs the second boot back onto his foot, "You poor thing, are your socks all wet?"

"Yeah," He breathes, finally shutting the car door and trying to relax his tensely-held muscles as he comes down from his embarrassment, "Uh- yeah it's fine, though. They'll dry out."

"Use the foot heater," You flick a button on the center console, and hot air seeps from a vent beneath the glove compartment, "That better?"

"Yeah," Spencer toes off his boots, letting the warmth aid his chilled skin and damp attire, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Thank you," You nod and turn your eyes to the road as you pull out of the parking lot.

"For what?" Spencer looks briefly over at you, glasses spattered with raindrops.

"For calling me beautiful," You grin.

[adventuringblind]

charles having a baby fever

Father Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: fluff but also kinda smutty

Request: I saw this and my brain immediately went down the gutter. I appreciate you for this request 🙏 also my requests are open so send me things

Summary: Charles gets a case of baby fever and you're willing to indulge him ;)

Warnings: sexual themes ahead, not the whole thing but it's definitely in there. Talks of pregnancy.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I'm not a hoe for this man. Written in third person.

Masterlist

The following media is not intended for anyone below the age of 18. If your are under that, please do not interact with this post.

Charles had managed to take notice of every child in the paddock that day.

He'd recently been noticing small things. Things like baby clothes, small children, family interactions.

He'd watched Sergio and Kevin with their kids. Seb had brought his family around. It was starting to get to him.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't want kids. Starting a family was always a dream of his. Something him and his wife talked about often. They just hadn't really tried for a baby.

He knew she was at their house. Waiting for him to come home with groceries. It felt peaceful compared to the life they lived during race season.

As he walked, he could pick out every family. Kids bundled up in their winter clothes. Adults holding them upright so they don't slip and fall.

He could hardly take it. He's never walked home so fast in his life.

She was in the kitchen when he appeared behind her in the doorway. She was prepping to make dinner.

Charles looked disheveled, out of breath. She was concerned and yet simultaneously turned on by his appearance.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Charles quickly came back to his senses. Dropped the bass on the floor and wrapped her in a hug.

"We should have a baby." He was looking directly into her eyes. His face completely straight.

She was taken off guard for a moment. Then, realizing the proposal, she started excitedly shaking her head.

Charles was waiting no time. Vigorously kissing her lips. Heavy but passionate.

She was giggling at him. "What are you laughing at?" He asked as he swiftly picked her up and set her on the counter.

"Nothing, I just find you adorable."

He was mumbling French into her collarbone and Italian into her chest. Letting his hands roam her body freely.

"You are so beautiful. Soon, you will become a goddess. Pregnant with our child." He cradled her face in his hands.

"Charles I swear if you don't stop teasing-" She couldn't get any farther as Charles practically ripped her clothes off. Now left in only her underwear.

He ran his fingers lightly across her now bare skin. Memorizing the feeling. Paying attention to the way she reacted to his touch.

His shirt and jeans were next. His lips only breaking away from her for a second. Her fingers begin tracing every line on his body. The way his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.

“Mon Amour, shall we start here, then maybe move to the couch, then into the bedroom.” He’s voice is dripping with need. He is going to take her on every piece of furniture even if it takes all night.

Her brain was already turned off. The act of thinking to much with the feeling of his fingers worshiping her. She practically fell into him, humming her approval.

Charles lifted her for a second, her only remaining garment now tossed aside.

Then he took her on the counter, then again on the chair, the dining room table and the couch. Finally they made it to the bed where Charles made love to her softly. Her body trembling with every ministration.

Charles is the ‘king of aftercare’ as she likes to call him. Something he occasionally gloated about. Much to Pierre's dismay.

He grabbed a wet rag and a cup of water. Using the rag to clean off the bodily fluids that covered both of them.

She curled her body into Charles. Her head rested on his chest.

"I think you'll make a great dad." She mumbles. Charles laughs at the notion.

"Why do you think that Mon chère?"

"You just seem like father material, ya know."

"Guess I should learn some dad joke then." The two were both laughing now.

Basking in eachothers presence. Fantasizing about what life will be like with a growing family.

[ovaryacted]

Hello??! Sub!Leon??? Absolutely sign me the fuck up. Ok ok so. Hear me out.

First time, the absolute first time Leon has a prostate orgasm, he fucking cries. Either pegging, dick or fingering, the moment he feels that specific part inside of him get touched, he sees fucking stars.

This dude goes full hentai shit. His eyes roll back, he’s drooling, his tongue is hanging out, he’s babbling uselessly. His brain literally can’t comprehend how good he feels because of it!

I’d imagine that Leon also gets vocal. More vocal than ever. Normally he’s a quiet guy. Maybe some moaning and grunts but when your rubbing his prostate? Yea he’s speaking another language. Dude is Italian American, imagine if he starts speaking fucking Italian. HE doesn’t even understand what he’s saying, he’s just repeating words he heard from his parents growing up.

His voice is also an octave higher. He tries to cover his mouth at first, but it’s useless. He becomes a crying, moaning, babbling bitch.

I’d also imagine Leon’s thighs shake when he cums. Oh and he cums HARD. He actually forgets how to breathe for a bit because of the orgasm slamming into him.

And afterwords? Woah mama. He’s beautiful, breathing heavily, tears and drool marking his pretty face. Just…Mwuah~ <3

MDNI/18+. NSFW

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for the message, I’ll be glad to sign you up to the Sub! Leon fan club. Yes I’m totally listening, putting my ear real close to you right now.

I think the first time he cums like that, it will probably change his whole life and literally give his brain a hard reset. Like sure, he’s had good orgasms before, but never something that made black spots come into his vision, or something that made his legs shake the way they’re currently doing on the mattress. He never thought that sex could feel so good, and experiencing that much relief would genuinely be something that he’ll continue to ask for in the safety of another person who can provide that for him.

The way his mind just fizzles out when it happens, how there isn’t a single thought that goes through his head. It takes him off guard, how it’s just static between his ears and he’s stuck in a daze. For the first time in his life he’s not thinking about his trauma, about missions, about anything. His head is just empty and he loves it, and he finds himself someplace far away and wants to stay there for a while longer. To me, Leon is a sentimental guy, he’d be the type to cry during sex cause he’s clingy and affectionate. But when he’s the one on the receiving end, it makes him feel safe, and having someone who helps to genuinely make him feel good and focuses on his pleasure, he’ll be more inclined to cry from the release of it.

Poor baby is so pent up that the moment he cums he can feel his whole body shake from it. It starts from his thighs which nearly cramp from how hard they flex, and a chill runs down from his calves and to the balls of his feet. His toes will curl a little bit and his fingers will dig into the bed sheets, and he swears he feels his ears ringing from the force of it. He just starts mumbling under his breath, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal and is saying things like I love you in such a whiney voice that it doesn’t even sound like him. He’s babbling and saying anything that comes to mind as any logic just leaves him permanently. Tears down his face, drool running out of his mouth, face all red, he’s a damn mess but he’s your pretty mess. He’s so hypersensitive that any little movement or touch makes him jolt the slightest bit, and it’s almost embarrassing but he doesn’t have the brain power to give a fuck considering how good he feels.

You’d probably have to spend some time bringing him back to reality, praising him and kissing him over his body gently to calm him down. Leon would be so clingy afterwards, just wants to put his head on your chest and let you run your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear that will ease him to sleep in 3 minutes flat. It’ll be the best he’s slept in a while too, getting a full 8 hours at least, just feeling warm and satisfied. And when you look down at him, there’s a small smile on his face as he sleeps, like he’s dreaming of something good and not having a nightmare, kissing his forehead as he dozes off with his limbs wrapped around you. You fuck him good and you baby him after, that’s what he likes and what he craves, and of course, you’re more than happy to provide.

Also, the fact that you said he’d start speaking Italian was so fucking funny, it made me chuckle. Very real. 😭

[ferrstappen]

unscheduled school visit l Max Verstappen

a/n: hello! i got this quick idea while working on some requests/school work. hope you like it and pls pls feel free to leave feedback <3 it really motivates me <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader.

summary: the twins' teacher calls, the twins got in trouble. Max is in disbelief.

Max was a strict parent. 

Not in the way people may think, and not in the least similar to how his dad was with him, but Max always was concerned on how the twins were doing in school, only in first grade, but still. He was always working on instilling discipline and hard work to Luca and Mila, so in the future they can be whatever the hell they want to be. Max knew money was never going to be an issue, so it was up to them to take all the opportunities that meant.

He always tried to take them to museums when they joined races, often tried to switch languages, even encouraging other drivers and people in the grid who interacted with the kids to speak in their different languages. 

It was always fun to watch Charles speaking to Luca in French or Italian as Luca slowly tried to come up with an answer and was always met with a high five, or Mila asking Checo why Carlos had a different accent. 

The smile never disappeared from your face when you get home from running an errand or attending a meeting that couldn’t be held on Zoom, to Luca and Mila chatting about what they learned on school today or silently doing their homework on the family room while Max watched them, himself also getting some things in the meantime.

The point is the twins were smart, both you and Max putting all your efforts to gently and effectively find what they like, what they don’t. 

You know your kids. Both of you would put your hands on fire because of them. You trusted them because Max and you were raising them good and the twins were great beyond words could explain. 

So when you receive a call from school telling you to come over, you quickly reached Max who was on the sim, driving through Imola with his eyes closed. 

“Babe, school called and we have to go,” As soon as you announced the news Max turned around, seat and steering wheel lightly shaking. 

“What do you mean? What happened?” Max was instantly on his feet.

“I don’t know, Max. Their teacher called,” You told your husband as his eyes opened widely. 

“Their? Is it both of them?” Max was in complete disbelief of what he was hearing.

“It appears so. I’ll cancel a meeting and we go.”

You didn’t leave him alone for thirty seconds, you swear, but when you came back Max was on the phone, asking the teacher to put Mila on the phone. 

He knew his daughter too well. She was outspoken, assertive, didn’t think twice. Luca was more cautious, wise and maybe a little timid. 

“Pap, he was trying to pull Luca’s hair and stealing his crayons, and Luca was letting him because he didn’t want to cause any trouble!” an agitated Mila informed Max, speaking a broken dutch. 

“Are you okay?” Max calmly asked his frantic daughter. He knew she was disquieted, trying to sound more sure of herself than she actually was. 

“Yes,” she said in dutch, but in the back her teacher told her in a sweet voice to speak in a language they could all understand. 

“Okay baby girl, mama and I are on our way, see you in a bit,”

During the drive to La Condamine to reach the International School of Monaco, you discovered a side of your husband you had yet to see. It was fun. 

“She is not apologizing!” Max told you, eyes not leaving the narrow road.

“Max, she pulled the kid’s hair,” You reminded your husband, who softly shook his head in disagreement. 

“Yes, because the idiot kid was bothering Luca and pulled his hair! If anything that kid should be apologizing to Luca, his sister just defended him!” His lisp was more prominent as you reached the parking lot overlooking the several yachts.

Max noticed the other child’s parents already walking inside the school, there weren’t many students in the Early Years building. He pressed the gas harder than necessary, making the engine of the family Aston Martin roar like they were in the paddock. 

Your eyes rolled at his antics, but still it made your insides feel giddy at the thought of your husband being protective and loving. 

Luca’s arms were wrapped around you as soon as you walked inside. Kneeling to reach his height, your heart broke at the sight of his disheveled hair and wet cheeks, his beautiful eyes red. Luca tried to not sniff and stop the tears, trying to be brave when he felt your hands on his cheeks and kissing his forehead, asking if he was okay. 

At the same time, Max sat next to Mila whose eyes didn’t leave the other kid’s sight, whom you learned his name was Oliver. Max knew his daughter wanted to shed a tear, but didn’t let it show, so he just gave her a reassuring look before listening to the teacher who had the three of them in charge.

Curtly shaking hands with Oliver’s parents, Max politely ignoring the poor attempt of one of “the idiot kid’s” dad to start a conversation, obviously starstruck by your husband the World Champion. 

Yes, it was Monaco and everyone knew each other, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce the two Verstappen named kids on the class were the children of the Max Verstappen, but he was often away and it was mostly you who attended parent-related stuff, but now there was the chance to have a conversation directly with him. 

Oh well. 

The four got inside the car, Max adjusting the seats before getting in the driver seat. Mila and Luca loudly sighed, knowing what followed.

“I don’t know how to address this. I’m moved and proud that you look out and defend each other, but M, baby, pulling someone else’s hair is not the way,” you softly told your daughter. “and Luca, honey, I know it’s hard but when someone invades your space and is rude, but you can tell the teacher before it makes you feel bad and leads to this,” 

Max’s eyes followed the twins movements through the rearview mirror as you talked to them, soon reaching your home. You grabbed the backpacks and Max helped the twins get out of the car.

He reached Luca’s door first. When he was out, he left a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair, softly reminding his carbon copy that he was a little lion, still with lots to learn, but no one ever could make him feel like this. 

Then he reached Mila’s door. Her eyes now were a bit glossy, but he knew she was just like him, Mila would never show weakness. He reminded her that she can take some weight off, let her guard down with her parents before kissing her hair. 

You watched the scene unfold from afar, not knowing what he told them, but sure they were the right words.

Then giggles reached your ears, eyes immediately rolling. 

He was fist bumping Mila, giving her a nod of approval.

For God’s sake, this wouldn’t be the first time you’re called to school, that’s for sure.

[iateyourparents]

hickey prank | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you make a hickey prank on your boyfriend.

warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(I'm sorry but english is not my first language), suggestion of cheating(?), wasn't proofread

an: it's my first ever post here so pls don't judge me too much 😭🙏🏻

pictures are from pinterest:)

"Hi everyone!" you waved to the camera "Today, I'm with Kat" Katrina smiled at the camera saying hello "And we will be pranking my boyfriend!"

"Yay!" Katrina shouted. "If you're watching this Colby, I'm not sorry." she winked.

You laughed and started explaining to your viewers what exactly you have planned. "So I will be doing hickeys prank on Colby and at first I wanted to just fake them with make up but my incredible friend here" you pointed at Katrina who just smiled widely "Said it's too boring, so guess what! She will be making my hickeys!"

"Yes! So let's get to work."

You both sat at your bed and you were telling your viewers a story about how you thought about this prank while Katrina was sucking on your neck, sometimes stopping to add something to your story.

"Okay, oh my god, Katrina!" you screamed with wide eyes looking at the mirror. She did a good job. Maybe too good.

Your neck now had three big, red hickeys.

"I'm not sure if Colby will be the only one jealous." you laughed "Sorry Sam" you winked at the camera and Kat laughed.

"So now all we have to do is wait for boys to come home from a meeting." Kat said and clicked the camera off.

|||

"Honey we're home!" you heard Sam screaming and then the door being shut.

You and Katrina exchanged looks and she quickly ran to your room to turn on hidden there camera while you turned on the one that was in living room.

"Hi boys" you smiled at them when they entered the room and you went to Colby to kiss him while Sam went to his and Katrina room after a quick hello.

Colby hugged you and peppered your face with kisses and then said "Are you hungry? We got lunch from this small Italian restaurant."

"No, I already ate, but thanks babe" you kissed his cheek and sat on the couch again.

"Okay, I will go change."

You stood up and went after him while smiling discreetly to the hidden camera.

In your shared room Colby immediately went to the closet while you sat on your bed waiting for him to be done.

You also adjusted your(Colby's) shirt so your collarbone and neck were more showing.

You scrolled through your phone when Colby finally sat next to you in new clothes and in silence he looked at your neck.

You bite back your smile knowing he noticed hickeys.

Before you knew his hand was on your neck trying to smear the hickey.

"What's that?" he asked quietly with narrowed brows.

"Hickeys." you smiled at him putting your phone on the bedside table "You made them, don't you remember?"

"I'm pretty sure I would remember marking you like that." his voice was low and you knew he definitely wasn't happy. "Who did that? Is this some kind of prank?"

"What? No, Colby. I can't believe you don't remember making them." you faked scoff.

"Y/n..." he sighed "Who did that?"

You were close to laughing at his face but thankfully you stopped yourself.

Then when you looked at him again you felt bad because you noticed the hurt and insecurity on his face.

"Oh I'm sorry, Colby" you took his hand and squeezed when he wanted to take it back "It's a prank, I'm so sorry baby. I didn't want to make you upset. Katrina made those hickeys."

Colby just silently looked at you trying to analyze your words and you just stoop up and took the camera out of its hiding spot.

"Sorry guys, it's kinda fail but I feel too bad to continue this prank." you pouted explaining it to your viewers. "Look at this pouty, I couldn't do this to him." you pointed at the camera at Colby and he just shook his head with a small relieved smile.

"Does Sam know his girlfriend made hickeys on you?" Colby asked and you laughed.

"Nope, if Kat won't tell him herself, he will get to know when the video is out!"

You said your goodbyes to the camera and stopped recording. Then you put the camera on a desk and you went to Colby and straddled his waist while he laid on his back on the bed.

"I'm so sorry" you said again hugging him.

"It's okay, I'm so happy it's just prank but I'm not sure if I shouldn't be jealous because I don't remember the last time I left any marks on you." he moved his brows suggestively and you laughed.

"Maybe we should change it then."

[maryleclerc]

𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 — charles leclerc

pairing: prince!charles leclerc x reader ; prince!charles leclerc x princess!reader ; prince!dad!charles leclerc x princess!mom!reader

summary: in which prince christian arthur first day to school and i guess it’s went well

warning: english is not my native language, use google translate, i did not own any of these images. this is just a imagination, please do not take it too serious!

read my royal series here

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/n_leclerc, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc Brunch with my mamma and papà

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y/n_leclerc My mamma and papà 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc Our mamma and papà

everythingdif Notice how Charles called his parents in-law in Italian is so so so sweet. It’s really proves the relationship between them is very good, once when Prince Charles Leclerc and Y/n were just engaged, a few reporters asked Mr. Y/l/n about Prince Charles, he said that he really thankful to know that his soon to be his son-in-law because Prince Charles Leclerc is not only kind and polite but also very caring and especially the way he treat his daughter, Y/n.

⤷ charles_leclerc I love them too, they are the most fun people to be around with

y/n_leclerc

Liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet and 452,033,711 others

y/n_leclerc Baby bump update and having a brunch date with my husband and my whole family (sadly without Christian, he’s not so happy if he know that we went to visit nonna e nonno)

and during brunch today I just discovered a secret that made me want to cry but Charles never told me (crying happy tears). It was my father who told me, he said that when Charles was about to propose to me, Charles went to my parents' house and asked their permission to let him marry me. I just keep loving him more and more.

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charles_leclerc And thankfully papà give me his permission

⤷ y/n_leclerc You’re his favorite now, Prince Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of Monte Carlo

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh I… I know, you don’t have to type my full name like that Princess Y/n

⤷ y/n_leclerc 😂 haha you scare huh?

⤷ arthur_leclerc No, he’s not scared BUT I AM

⤷ y/n_leclerc @charles_leclerc 😂😂😂

kellypiquet Your baby bump is so 🥰

⤷ y/n_leclerc I know I know 😂

pinkblushh How is your baby doing Y/n?

⤷ y/n_leclerc It’s doing great, and keep craving for Charles cooking 😂

euginemckayla REAL GENTLEMAN 😩🤌🤌

charles_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, y/n_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc Y/n and I just picked up Christian from kindergarten, I have to say I feel like he'd rather go to school than stay at home with his parents. As soon as he got into the car, he said to us in a very excited voice, “maman, papa, I had a lot of fun going to school today? I've made a lot of friends… there's a girl who's very beautiful, when I grow up I want to marry her.” Y/n was in shocked and turned to see her smiling... Maybe he just like his father 😂

I don't think Y/n expected him to have a girlfriend fast, even faster than his father. He even “suggested” us to let him go karting with his father, we accept his “suggestion”.

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y/n_leclerc Exactly like his father, got so much attention from women in all ages

milanie My daughter told my that she had a crush on your son Prince Charles Leclerc

⤷ y/n_leclerc You’re Carlotta mother?

⤷ milanie Yes, I am 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh gosh he talk about Carlotta all the way home

george_laurent Uhh I can’t handle the cuteness of this family

TAGLIST: @xcinnamongirl @jaydaaasword @heartsfromtaeyong @bladacci1 @magical-spit @champomiel @greigreyhiyyih @cherrieverstappen @okurtics @georgiagasly @booksobsess

[talesof-old]

poly!jily celebrating with you. maybe over you getting into your dream college/job. they would be the most supportive partners ever and spoil you rotten for your achievement i just know it

- 🦌

sorry this took me a minute, my new work schedule has me all kinds of fucked up - i wrote more of a finding out you got your dream job but i might also write a graduation celebration as well

celebration | l.e. & j.p.

pairing(s): poly!jily x reader

warning(s): alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety bc of job interviews

word count: 658

masterlist

a/n: jily would totally spoil the fuck outta their partner, they’d be so obnoxious about it

“Oh?”

It was Lily’s voice that you heard in the other room. She’d answered the phone before you could even put your book down, so you’d decided to stay sitting.

“Hold on.”

Lily’s head poked around the corner. Her long copper hair fell over her shoulder, a curtain of red as she grinned. “They’re asking for you.”

You frowned, brushing off James’ inquisitive stare and setting your things aside. You crossed the room in no time, taking the phone from her to answer it.

“Hello,” you were quick to assure the person on the other line that it was in fact you. Lily and James stared with rapt attention, eyes wide. You’d been anticipating a call about a job for days now, frazzled and frustrated after three rounds of interviews. Surely, you’d said to James, if they were going to hire me they’d have done it by now.

James drew in a sharp breath as you smiled. The light in your eyes that he loved so dearly had returned. Excitement rattled his chest. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

Your face twisted into an expression of pure relief as you turned and nearly squealed. Lily was already beaming back at you. “I got it!”

Lily cheered, opening her arms and squeezing you tight when you fell into her embrace. You could practically feel the stress melting away as you rested your head on her shoulder. James wrapped his arms around the two of you, smothering you with kisses to your head. “I’m so proud of you, sweets.”

Your face heated and you turned to look at him. He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, the loud ‘smack’ seeming to echo through your head. Lily giggled at your flustered expression.

“It seems we need to celebrate. James, get the wine. We’ll go to dinner tonight, year? That Italian place you like?”

James waltzed away from the two of you, ready to pour three glasses as Lily pulled herself from your arms. “I knew you’d get it.” A wave of emotion rushed through you. To have the support of the most brilliant people in the world, your people, was truly a blessing you’d never take for granted. Tears turned your eyes glassy, though you were quick to blink them away. “I’m so glad the interviews are over.”

Lily laughed and laced your fingers together, pulling you into the kitchen where James stood filling three glasses. “To you, sweets. You never fail to impress us.” Lily kissed your cheek and took the glass of moscato from your boyfriend.

“My clever darling.”

You buried your face in your hands as James cooed at you. They were insufferable like this, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You alright, sweets? Surely handling a little praise is child’s play to you, hm? Would hate to have you hiding your face from me.” You reached out and gently shoved him, pretending to cringe away when he went to grab you. He gasped in mock offense. Lily hummed behind you, leaning against the counter while James all but chased after you.

“I can’t believe you’d push me away.” You removed your hands from your face to look at him. His lip was jutted out in a mock pout, but humor lined the planes of his face. You sighed, stepping into his outstretched arms, careful of the glass still in his hand.

He wrapped his arms tight around you, kissing your temple. “You’re lucky we love you.” The teasing lilt in his voice was enough to have you poking him hard in the stomach. He chuckled as you rested your cheek on his chest and grinned. How lucky you were, indeed.

+++

[gojoed]

your eyes didn't need to be open to know that he was looking at you. deft and lean fingers carded and twirled with the strands of your hair that were splayed over his lap. the soft wind that blew through the gojo estate drove the smell of summer to you.

satoru's fingers would sometimes wander to your face, tracing your features, following your jawline where at times his lips replaced his fingers. his lap was comfortable, sleep worthy even. not to mention the extra plush the traditional clothing he had on that helped guide your head to its place.

you also didn't need your eyes to be open to know that any minute now he would say something stupid.

"hey babe?"

"mm?" your eyes still closed.

"did you hear about the italian chef who died?"

you furrowed your brows, you haven't heard that one before.

"what italian chef are you talking about satoru."

"cmon just answer the question." you could practically hear the pout in his voice. which if you didn't listen, would turn to a tantrum. in turn it would turn into satoru proclaiming that you didn't love him anymore, that if you really did you would have just answered. you decided to save yourself the hassle.

"no satoru, i haven't heard about the italian chef who died."

"really? cause he pasta-way."

"..."

finally opening your eyes, you could see small wide pools of blue staring down at you. observing you as if he were a cat watching someone from across the room. except you were lying your head on his lap, and he picked up a strand of your hair and started tickling your face with it.

when he reached your mouth, you blew at your own hair. earning yourself a 'so mean' from your boyfriend. but that didn't stop him from continuing to draw unknown shapes on your face.

he looked handsome, you thought. although he was a teenager he still held his baby face within his features. but you could tell within a few short years the subtle baby fat still residing in his cheeks would soon fade to be replaced with a sharp jawline, maybe a more striking smile. the pink however, that always seemed to dust his face whenever he was with you, you hoped it never went away. and you hoped that the look he gave you with his eyes, you hoped that that stayed as long as you lived.

"why're you lookin' at me like that, pretty? you in love with me or something?"

satoru was such a tease.

"mm, with your money maybe."

satoru knew you were joking, but that didn't stop him from dropping that strand of hair he was playing with and releasing a sharp gasp from his pink and smooth lips (you suspect he was using your chapstick, satoru respectfully disagrees). he laid a hand over his chest, as if he was in pain.

"i knew it! you're just like the rest of them! maybe i should've listened to the old geezers when they told me you were bad news."

that made you laugh, a sound coming from deep within your abdomen, making your body slightly quake. that sound never failed to make a smile appear on satoru's face, so much so that he even smiled with his eyes. his skin crinkled at the edges.

lifting your arms, you placed you hands on his cheeks, pulling him in a little.

"baby, you're the one who's bad news. not me."

satoru hummed, enjoying the way you were slightly squishing his lips together and stroking his face. "the baddest, they just can't get enough of me." that put a smile on your face, satoru was so stupid.

"why did they even summon you here anyway, satoru?"

the question made satoru scoff slightly and roll his eyes. stupid, he could have made that look less hot than it was.

"stupid old farts wanna know how i'm doing at jujutsu high. i'm their dear 'satoru-kun' who's the face of the clan and that i need to act like it. i swear most of them probably have something stuck up their ass so deep they'll probably die with whatever's in there."

he huffed, nuzzling the side of his face with one of your palms. you always calmed him; your presence, your smell. everything about you made his mind calm but at the same time you made his heart race so much that he feared it would jump out of his chest — leaving him to chase after it only to give it to you on the palm of his hand. satoru gojo was the strongest, ever since birth. but he swears you made him the weakest man alive.

satoru pouted when he felt you lift yourself from his lap, ready to whine before he felt you guide his head to yours.

"you don't look so young yourself satoru, you might as well be an old fart."

"hey! i am young and beautiful, thank you very much! the white hair just adds to my charm, it's all natural. guys wish they could be me."

you smiled, leaning down to softly peck his lips.

"that's all they'll ever do then. you're one of a kind. my satoru."

satoru grinned, grabbing onto your forearms as you stared down at him while he stared at you. "all yours."

[mountainsandmayhem]

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom! 

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs. 

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”. 

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth. 

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing. 

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water. 

Focus! 

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back. 

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much. 

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears. 

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life. 

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you. 

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?” 

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.” 

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you. 

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf. 

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder. 

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him. 

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you. 

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?” 

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.” 

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger. 

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep. 

“Smooth,” you say teasingly. 

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.” 

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.” 

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now. 

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?” 

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.” 

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list. 

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities. 

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.” 

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain. 

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play. 

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart. 

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.” 

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce. 

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf. 

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says. 

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.” 

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.” 

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.” 

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before. 

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.” 

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her. 

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need. 

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say. 

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human. 

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond. 

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude. 

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket. 

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.” 

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.” 

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.” 

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh. 

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically. 

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again. 

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing? 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.” 

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle. 

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.” 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke. 

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.” 

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in. 

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them. 

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his. 

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights. 

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones. 

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions. 

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.” 

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new. 

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?” 

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch. 

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?” 

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours. 

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here. 

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.” 

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?” 

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough. 

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?” 

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.” 

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful. 

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?” 

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?” 

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?” 

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.” 

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.” 

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.” 

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.” 

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!” 

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time. 

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional. 

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him. 

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut  @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[writtenfangirl]

I would love to see more Charles lecerc from you, the way you write him is so good. Maybe him trying to convince his girlfriend to move to Monaco with him and it’s all sweet and cute

Treasured Memories

Charles is literally so fine. I could stare at his face all day and not get tired of it. And it really doesn't help that his personality seems just as fine as his face.

I know his native language is French and not Italian but I always thought it would be so cute if I had a boyfriend who could speak a lot of languages and he chooses to call me a term of endearment in a different language than his native tongue.

Fic's only about 2100 words so enjoy!

Part 2

Charles Leclerc has and always will be a determined man.

He wasn’t the kind of person who rested unless he got what he wanted and he did whatever it takes to get the things he wants. 

Whether through his sheet grit, his determination, his talent or the bountiful resources that his family fought tooth and nail to give him, Charles did everything and anything to succeed.

It’s how he won the F2 championship in his first and only season, how he won rookie of the year during his debut with Sauber and why he was signed by the oldest and most respected team on the grid before he had even reached his second year as a Formula One driver.

He rarely ever heard the word no. And when he did, he always knew how to turn it into a yes.

So when he had asked his girlfriend of three years, Y/N Y/L/N, to move in with him, he hadn’t been expecting her rejection.

“Move in with me, amore,” Charles said, his voice cutting through the loud speakers that were playing Harry Potter’s orchestral theme song.

It was one of those rare days when neither Charles nor Y/N were off somewhere else around the world. With the season reaching their summer break and Y/N requesting time off from work to spend time with him, Charles and Y/N had opted to stay in Charles’ apartment and simply relax together. He wasn’t usually one for a lazy day but because he rarely ever got to spend time with his girlfriend, it was easy to forget about his training and his work outs and team strategy building for the day. It was even easier to forget those things when she was peacefully leaning against him, her eyes glued to the TV screen that was playing the first Harry Potter movie as their bodies were protected from the frigid air conditioning with a cozy blanket.

Charles felt Y/N tense before she pulled herself away from him, her weight supported by her arm as her attention shifted to Charles. Harry Potter was just about to tell Draco Malfoy off for being mean to Ronald Weasley and Charles knew it was one of Y/N’s favorite scenes. But she’d forgotten about it as she processed Charles’s simple request.

The words hung in the air and Charles paused the TV before the scene could progress further. He also knew that Y/N would make him rewind back to the scene if she had missed it.

“What did you just say?” Y/N said slowly, her eyes focused on Charles. 

“Y/N, move in with me.”

He fully expected her jubilant shouts or even a wonderful kiss of happiness followed by an ecstatic “yes!” but Y/N did none of those things. Instead she said a very emphatic, “No…”

“No?” 

“No…”

Charles wasn’t exactly stung by the rejection. He was more surprised if anything. He couldn’t understand why she would say no. They had been together three years. It seemed like the most natural course of action for Y/N to move in with him, the next step to bring their relationship to newer heights.

“Why don’t you want to move in with me, amore?” Charles asked.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Charles. I mean, I moved to Monaco just a year ago. Now you’re asking me to move in with you.”

She did have a point. Y/N did leave London to live in Monaco but she had justified the move because it was better for her career. 

She was an international correspondent for the BBC, which meant she was often sent to different countries around the world. After Brexit, it became harder for her to travel around Europe and, at the time, moving to Monaco was the sensible response.

Being able to see Charles more often was just the added bonus.

“But amore,” Charles protested, “you practically live here already. You have clothes in my closet and skincare in my bathroom. You even have keys here. You see my family so often, maman and my brothers think you’re an honorary Leclerc. I don’t see the problem with you moving in.”

“What about my lease?” 

“I’ll pay for the rest of it.” He deadpanned. “You’re landlord is terrible, amore.”

Y/N winced. He got her there. Her landlord really was terrible. There was always something broken in her apartment, whether it was a broken heater in the middle of winter, a leaky faucet in her kitchen sink, a toilet that refused to flush or a TV that only played static, it took her landlord months to fix those things. It’s why Charles had given Y/N keys to his apartment in the first place. If something went wrong, she could always spend the night. But things went wrong so often that for the past six months, Y/N spent five months living in Charles’ apartment rather than her own.

Not that he was particularly complaining.

He loved having Y/N around.

Y/N’s schedule was just as hectic as his was, likely even more so. She always had three suitcases packed and ready to go just in case she had to leave at a moment’s notice. The rare moments when Y/N came straight to his apartment after a tiring assignment and Charles had been home to greet her were highlights of their relationship. He wanted her to come home to him. And the even rarer moments when he came home to her after his own hectic schedule? Those were memories he etched in his mind forever so he could relive them in his dreams.

“What about my space,” Y/N added. “I work from home a lot and I don’t have a space here to work.”

Fully expecting this, Charles’ next words were unhurried and reassuring. “I’ve already planned it. I can move my simulator and my gaming consoles in the living room. There’s plenty of space here. You can use the game room as your office. I even installed speakers there because I know you like to listen to Taylor Swift while you work.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot straight up, causing Charles to grin. “Wow,” she said, mildly impressed. “You really have thought of everything.”

He did think about everything. He didn’t want to give her a reason to say no and the only way he could guarantee she’ll say yes was if Charles handled everything so that Y/N didn’t have to put in any effort. She always hated moving and he knew he would have to move mountains and cross seas just to ensure that Y/N would say yes and so he did just that. 

He tried his best not to sound so smug. “Oui. All you have to do is say yes. You don’t have to lift a finger. I’ll call the movers and plan everything and your things could be here by tomorrow if you wanted.”

And yet Charles could see the hesitation in her eyes. Something was holding her back. He knew his girlfriend enough to know that what’s holding her back wasn’t any trivial reason. This was something big. 

“What’s making you say no?” He asked patiently.

“Alright,” Y/N said at the question, her hesitation vanishing and steely determination filling her features. “Do you really know why I don’t want to move in with you? You might not like what I say.”

Charles nodded. He wanted nothing more than to know what horrible reason could possibly be stopping the love of his life from living with him so he could find a way to stop it.

“I’ve noticed a pattern with you, Charles.”

He pulled his brows into a frown. “A pattern?”

“Yes, babe. A pattern. You once told me that in your previous relationships, the love and magic between you two ended when they moved in.”

“What?”

“When you and Giada were together and she moved in, things ended between you two after a year. With Charlotte, it was two. Alexandra had six months. I love you, Charles, in a way that I had never loved anyone before. I don’t want things to end between us.”

He blinked at her once. Twice.

Y/N had always been blunt but she was never unfeeling. She looked as though she wanted to snatch the words from the air and shove it back in herself if she could. “Charles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to off—”

Charles’ sharp bark of laughter interrupted her. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as laughter shook his body, the sounds coming out from him echoing in the living room.

Her lips pulled into a frown as she took one of the pillows that rested on the couch and hit him with it. “It’s not funny, Charles!”

“I’m sorry!” He howled, not sounding sorry at all as his laughter choked the words from him, leaving him gasping for breath. Tears were beginning to collect in his eyes, further frustrating his girlfriend.

With a growl, Y/N hit him with the pillow again. Charles couldn’t even register the thump of the pillow with how hard he was laughing.

“Y/N, it’s not funny,” he managed to get out as he laughed. He clutched midsection, his stomach beginning to cramp from how hard herwas laughing.

“Then stop laughing!”

“I can’t!” 

“If you’re going to be that way, then fine!” Y/N pushed away the blankets that covered them and began to stand up. Instantly, Charles sobered up, his hand shooting forward to grab Y/N’s arm, pulling her to him. She landed on a heap on his lap, her hair tickling his nose, the scent of her shampoo enveloping him as he threaded his arms around her body and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

She huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, causing Charles to chuckle at her. Another kiss on her cheek and Y/N’s annoyed expression softened. “Y/N,” he said gently, “why would you worry about that?”

“Because,” she whispered, her previous annoyance vanishing like smoke, “usually what happens in almost every relationship is that the little traits that we once thought were cute and endearing about the other person become things we hate. I love that you ask me to cook for you whenever I’m at home but what if one day I wake up and I start to hate that about you. I don’t want that to happen.”

“You are being so silly, amore. That won’t ever happen to us.”

“How do you know that.”

“Because I’ve known you for so long and but I still find new things about you to love everyday. Even the things I don’t like about you, I love. And I love those things about you because I love you. Besides, of my past relationships you’re the girl I’m most compatible with. Every chore you don’t like to do, I like doing.” He said the words with a self-satisfied smirk. “You have no reason to say no. So say yes.”

“So long as you’re absolutely, 100 percent sure you want this.”

This time, Charles’ expression could only be referred to as serious. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Y/N. I want to spend forever with you and I can only do that if you let me. So please let me.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighed as a smile pulled at her lips, “you Frenchies and your romantic words.”

“Monegasque, amore!” Charles sputtered and this time, it was Y/N’s turn to laugh. 

“I’m just teasing, babe. You’ll have to get used to it since I’m going to be moving in.”

His arms squeezed her tighter, pressing her against him at her words. “You mean it? You’ll move in? You cannot take it back if you say yes, amore. I won’t let you.”

Y/N’s smile could only be described as incandescent. “Yes. I’ll move in. I’ll move anywhere so long as it’s with you.”

And just like that, what was once a normal, pleasant day, was now another treasured memory. He couldn’t imagine anything more amazing than hearing Y/N’s yes. And if he felt this way about her agreeing to move in, he could only imagine how he’d feel when she’d give him her yes after his proposal.

But his impending proposal to the woman he now knows to be the love of his life was another matter entirely. Right now, he wanted to bask in the moment and he couldn’t think of a better way to do that than by laying on his—their—couch, watching their favorite films and holding the girl of his dreams.

[dimepdf]

pleaseee i think we all deserve a joseph quinn “wired interview” fic :))

WIRED INTERVIEW. + JOSEPH QUINN

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? [ ❥ ] synopsis. one of Joseph's first interviews following the premiere of the new season and his public disclosure of his relationship. author's note. tis my birthday!

[ ❥ ] pairing. joseph quinn x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 1.5k

[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. Fluff, actor!reader, black coded, based this from Kim and Pete’s relationship, Joseph being smitten, literally just fluff series masterlist.

Y/N L/N & joseph quinn Answer the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

The interview starts off pretty tame. The couple that sat in the white room in front of the camera beamed with perfect happy smiles.

Joseph could not help but to touch Y/n in any way that he could.

Many of the fans suspect that his love language might have been touch from the complications and tiktoks of the male always reaching to hug/grab/hold the woman.

Joe wasn’t shy about his smitten state over Y/n that festered throughout the young years of the actors knowing each other. I

f there's one thing that the internet has been talking about since the opening week of Stranger Things releasing their new anticipated season, it's the new couple on set: Y/n L/N and Joseph Quinn’s rumored relationship.

After the pair met in the following year for the production of season four of Stranger Things, they've been spotted together a number of times, including the very adorable trending clips of them trending of the pair being more than friendly, begging the question from their fans: are they an item?

Just weeks after the release of the new season, Joseph and Y/n were spotted holding hands during an outing in NYC on what seemed to be a double date with their co-stars Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton at a pricey restaurant in the city.

Photos of the pair caused fans to speculate that maybe it just wasn't their characters that had a connection as well, though a source told People at the time, "Since we’re like one big close-knit circle of friends just being friends, it might come off that way to other people."

Following the many sightings, Joseph and Y/n were reported to have gone on a more private dinner date at another iconic Italian eatery, Campania's, in New York's Staten Island.

A source told Page Six, "Y/n arranged a dinner on the rooftop privately," adding that they didn't bring security with them and "quietly were able to sneak in and out."

A report from E! at the time also revealed why Joseph apparently likes Y/n, saying, "Y/n is a very down-to-earth person, who seems very grounded and humble every time that they hang out."

People reported that Joseph and Y/n were seen mingling a lot together during the after party of the Stranger Things watch party. Sources show proof of the pair together in almost every video that was posted from the small party that was attended mostly by the cast and production along with friends.

A source told People at the time that the couple was "always together." It was a "big night for them," another source told E! News. "But it seemed like they were in their own universe." The source also said the two didn’t want to be perceived as a couple in public. "They were careful not to show too much PDA with so many eyes around."

With the entirety of the entire internet (including Dojacat) wondering what was going on between the pair, Joseph decided to settle things earlier this week, during his current appearance at Comic Con, where a fan asked the long awaited question about the situation.

"I think everyone just wants to know—me mostly because, hello, you’re both so fine—but is it really just a rumor or are you and Y/N really an item?" The fan asked as the audience voiced their approval of the question. "Or is it all just, like, really good PR? You have to be honest."

Joseph couldn't seem to contain his blushful glance as he playfully fauxed an eye roll, dramatically leaning back from his chair as the crowd seemed to get louder with anticipation of his answer before responding: "I'm more offended honestly that you guys think it was all just a PR stunt." 

Understandably, the crowd completely lost it for a moment before Joseph finally said, "I mean, we made out that one time in public and the next day she was just scrolling through twitter and all the replies were just like "guys, they're just besties, calm the hell down" and I’ve never been more concerned because we weren't even trying to hide it, it was more just waiting until everyone caught on."

Over on social media, the fans could not contain their excitement over the topic of conversation. "Love a black woman to infinity to infinity!!" said one twitter user with the clip of the reveal, with another adding, "I know I'm biting her fucking pillow and peeling back her fucking wig because of this one lmaooo."

Joseph and Y/n just keep getting cuter and cuter since their relationship became public. Finally, the actors share their first ever pictures together as a couple.

Y/n posted to her instagram page a grid of pictures that left fans in a frenzy. The spam of posts featuring Joseph and her wrapped in each other's embrace during the start of the new season's long production revealed to fans the long timeline of their relationship. 

The pictures in question are captioned: "I'm sorry that you seemed to be confused…" Many suspect that the caption was to shade Doja Cat, the artist getting into quite a situation with Y/n’s younger costar Noah Schnapp, after taking to Instagram Live to publicly post their Instagram direct message conversation in a since-deleted TikTok.

In the exchange, the rapper asked the actor to help set her up with his co-star Joseph Quinn, which Y/n/L/n seemed to not take much interest in.

Click to view video

“Okay well you have to say it,” Y/n gestured with her ombre french tip nails, adjusting her brown wrap halter top from the hem that snug onto her brown skin just perfectly. Joseph gave a sort of side glance to the woman as his eyebrows creased. 

“Cause’ It’ll sound better coming from you.” The whine in Y/ns voice was clear, not it an annoyed way just in the way of being playful when behind the camera a slight hesitation in leaning into his immediate touch.

“Honey, I think you sound just fine.” He reached to squeeze the plush on the woman's thigh, the high of her olive green mini skirt that covered only her middle thigh. 

“Oh fuck off—hello, im Y/n L/n and this is,” the pair giggled at the drastic and dramatic mood switch that conterted Y/n features, the woman raising her hand to cover her smile subconsiously as she laughed brightly.

“Joseph Quinn.” Joseph answered with his voice peaking into a more gentle softer tone because of the laughter.

“And today we’re doing the wired autocomplete interview!” 

Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet. 

So WIRED asked Joseph and Y/n L/n some of the internet’s burning questions.

The video cuts to Joseph sitting with his legs folded, the white board littered with questions perched on to the start of his knee joint, which formed a bend.

Setting the board at an angle so it was sort of presented to Y/n as she sat a little off to the side, the questions all started with her name as she slouched into a more comfortable sitting posture to subconsciously lean more into Joseph as the interview continued.

"How old was Y/n in the Bruno Mars video?" the first question shot off as Joseph peeled the paper away, revealing the answer as he flipped the strip from his bed of his thumb.

His dark brown eyes glistened under the studio light as he glanced at the woman with a content smile, watching the start of a smile creep onto her glossed lips, Y/n glancing up at the ceiling in thought. "I was like, 21ish when I recorded the song." 

"Can I just say how cool it is that you’ve casually been just a song for such an amazing artist?" Joseph interpreted as Y/n giggled at the compliment, her shoulders bouncing with her laughter as he added. "Like how many people can just casually say, "Oh yeah, I was in a Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak music video?" That's insane to me." 

"Does Y/n…play the drums?" the question making Joseph's lips pout out as he menetally recalled the many times he would beg you to play the drums for him after seeing the dedication you put into learning the instrument for the show, your character being the outcast with big round glasses but a killer drumming skill, your average height being just below Sadie Sinks, giving you an advantage to be in the younger iconic cast, being an award-winning favorite when introduced in the second season. 

"Uh, yes? Kind of, not as much as outside of the show, but I still had to learn a lot for the show." She was fidgeting with the underside of her nails. "It's sort of annoying sometimes though, because I really love having a decent nail length and I remember having a really cute nail set during production and the stylist was just like, "yeah, rip those off for me." I’ve never been more pissed." 

"Who is Y/n L/n dating?" The question led the couple to smile at each other, Y/n leaving a gestured thumb to her boyfriend of almost 3 years.

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