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I’m bored so screw fancy formatting

Sugawara/reader HC’s

MENTIONS: gn reader (reader is said to be on the queer spectrum so I’m assuming any tumblr user can read this), queer sugawara koushi, reader and suga r implied adults, this may be ooc bc I haven’t finished hq

-Sugawara who brushes your hair back every now and then, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your forehead. Whenever he’s cooking, you find yourself lingering by the counter so he’ll do it again (he chuckles every time you do)

-He’ll be like “are you waiting for something?” And you’ll jokingly swat him on the arm before he pulls you in and places a gentle peck. He returns to the stovetop quicker than you can blink

-found out he was bisexual in hs and kept it to himself, that is, until he met you. Not only did he later find out you were queer yourself, but you were so patient and understanding to your loved ones. He quickly became fond of you- the way you carried yourself, how you would grin at his remarks, he couldn’t help but slowly fall in love

-he rolls his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he cooks or cleans. He did it out of habit but over time he’d notice that you’d ogle him and he laughs it off and gets a little shy but he can’t help but feel a tad proud that ‘he still has it’

-he has the most beautiful smile, the kind where you can’t help but look. His grin is a tad lopsided, and one of his dimples is more prominent than the other- you wouldn’t have it any other way

-when you affectionately named a houseplant after him, he was both amused and found it endearing. Safely said, the guy has moved into your shared apartment

-he’s a bit of a romantic, so sometimes he has just because flowers waiting for you

-when you’re both out in public (be it grocery shopping or any other activity), a kid will run up and shout his name “MR SUGAWARAAAA-“

-^^they’re just excited to see their teacher, and you’re usually left to seek out the parent that’s trodding along behind their energetic kid

-but one time when a particularly boisterous kid ran up to Suga, he gazed up at you and went, “woah, you’re even prettier in person. Mr. Sugawara always has a photo of you on his desk” (suga was a tad flushed after that)

Lmk if you want a pt2 and feel free to offer ideas!

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Nothing describes being a Ferrari fan better than praying that your favorite driver wins the WDC with them … but also simultaneously praying that your favorite driver leaves to a different team that will actually give him a shot at the championship and won’t constantly waste his best years.

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Ferrari as an institution should be considered fucking unethical at this point.

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YOU WRITE HER SO WELL this was beautifully done

In Your Arms

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You have always been a touchy-feely person. Natasha on the other hand is not. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want your attention.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 1981

Natasha has always known you to be a touchy-feely person.

The first time she met you, you wrapped your arms around her before she even had the chance to blink. Her instincts flared immediately with her hand flying halfway to her weapon before her brain caught up to the fact that you weren’t a threat. 

Her grip on the concealed weapon relaxed, but her arms had remained stiff at her sides, unsure where to put them, uncertain what to do with affection offered so freely.

It had startled her more than any ambush ever had. That feeling of not being feared. Of being a person worthy of the affection of another, despite everything.

But you never held back with giving yours. 

Not then, and not after.

Over time, it became part of the rhythm between you. Your hand or arm slipped naturally into hers whenever you walked beside her. The lazy weight of your head leaning on her shoulder during briefings. The way you always pulled her into a hug when either of you returned from a mission, arms around her waist or shoulders, grounding her in something real.

She’d gotten used to that. Maybe even come to expect it. 

So when the elevator doors slide open and she sees you standing there, her first instinct is to pause—her heart giving a quiet little stutter she doesn’t acknowledge. 

Natasha steps out of the elevator, ready for that familiar warmth, that brief but steadying moment of contact she hadn’t let herself admit she was looking forward to.

You spot her a moment later.

“Hey, Natasha,” you say casually, offering her a quick wave.

No arms reaching out for her. Just a passing greeting as you walk by her without so much as the brush of your sleeve against hers, slipping into the elevator she just stepped out of.

Natasha turns, confused, mouth parting like she might call after you, but the elevator doors are already sliding shut, cutting off her view of you. She stares at the closed metal panels for a few lingering seconds, the silence pressing in.

That was…different.

Her brows knit faintly, but after a moment, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head. 

You probably had somewhere to be. That had to be it.

Still, the absence of your usual warmth settles heavy in her chest. She folds her arms loosely across her torso and forces the tension out of her shoulders with a quiet sigh.

Then she turns on her heel and heads toward the debriefing room, pushing the disappointment down before it has the chance to root too deeply.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Now Natasha is even more confused.

Earlier, she’d told herself you were just in a rush—that missing the hug in the hallway wasn’t personal—just bad timing. But now, sitting beside you in the common room with the other Avengers, that excuse feels thinner by the second.

It’s one of those rare nights when everyone’s actually home. Laughter ripples through the group, drinks are passed around, and stories are shared freely. Typically, nights like this meant you’d be curled up next to her, shoulder pressed to hers, fingers idly toying with the hem of her sleeve or resting on her thigh without thinking.

Tonight, though, you’re still right beside her on the couch. And yet you might as well be a mile away.

It’s not that you’re ignoring her. You speak when spoken to. You laugh at the group’s jokes. You even chime in when Natasha makes a dry comment that earns a snort from Sam. 

But there’s no contact. Not even the accidental kind.

Your posture is pulled in just enough to create a subtle space between your body and hers. And the longer it lingers, the more Natasha begins to feel it as a form of avoidance.

She tests it.

Casually, she stretches her arm along the back of the couch behind you, a gesture she’s done countless times before that usually ends with you unconsciously shifting closer into her side.

But this time, you lean forward, seeming suddenly interested in one of Thor’s increasingly embellished battle stories, your shoulders moving just out of reach.

Natasha’s gaze sharpens. She shifts again, this time subtly sliding closer, just enough that your thighs would brush if you moved towards her even if just by a little.

You don’t. Instead, you cross your legs in the opposite direction, slightly angling yourself away without a glance.

Her lips press into a thin line.

But what finally makes her frown is the way your body betrays your exhaustion. 

Natasha knows your rhythms too well. At this hour, you always start to fade, no matter how hard you try to stay engaged. And usually, when that happened, your head would gradually drift until it came to rest on her shoulder.

Tonight, it tilts in the other direction. You rest your cheek against your hand, elbow on the armrest, turning completely away from her.

Like clockwork, your eyes begin to flutter closed. 

Natasha catches the subtle slump of your posture and the way your breathing slows, soft and steady.

Her fingers twitch against her leg.

If you were leaning on her like usual, it would be easy, just a quiet nudge, a soft murmur of your name to guide you up to bed. 

But now, there’s nothing—no point of contact. 

Not unless she reaches for it herself.

But Natasha hesitates.

And someone else beats her to it.

Wanda leans forward from her spot in the other chair next to the two of you, her voice low and gentle. 

“Hey,” she says, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder, giving it a soft shake. “I’m gonna turn in. Want to head up too?”

Your eyes blink open slowly. You nod, sleepy and half out of it, then reach up and take Wanda’s offered hand without hesitation.

You turn back toward Natasha, offering her a small, tired smile.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you murmur.

Your hand lifts slightly as if you’re about to pat her leg like you’ve done a dozen times before.

But at the last second, it shifts direction and lands instead on the cushion beside her, fingers pressing gently into fabric before retreating.

Natasha’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Goodnight,” she replies.

She watches as you stand, still holding onto Wanda’s hand. The two of you walk out together, your head tilted toward her in quiet laughter as you lean slightly into her side.

And Natasha is left sitting on the couch, surrounded by voices and laughter, and yet with a space beside her that feels colder than it should.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha stands at the counter, fingers wrapped around a warm mug, steam curling up into her face as she takes a slow sip of coffee.

She’s been up for a while now, trying to clear her head. Sleep hadn’t come easily. Not with questions buzzing around her thoughts.

You hadn’t touched her.

Not once.

And it was driving her insane.

Natasha exhales slowly, grounding herself in the weight of the mug and the quiet hum of the Compound just beginning to stir. Then she hears your footsteps approaching.

Her heart reacts before her mind does.

You enter the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from your eyes, dressed in the kind of clothes that suggest you only half pulled yourself together before wandering in search of caffeine. You spot her immediately, offering a small, friendly smile—not the sleepy, instinctive shoulder nudge or greeting she used to get. 

Just a smile.

You head toward the cabinet, clearly aiming for a mug. 

The only problem is she’s in the way.

“Hey, can I squeeze past?” you ask, voice gentle.

Natasha straightens instinctively, stepping just slightly to the side. Enough to let you through, but only barely, with the space between her and the counter still being narrow. 

But it’s also close enough that brushing shoulders would be unavoidable.

Except it doesn’t happen.

Natasha watches in disbelief as you deliberately maneuver your body in the smallest ways, turning sideways, angling your arm, even lifting your hand to avoid grazing hers. It’s done with care, but it’s unmistakable.

You didn’t want to touch her.

Natasha’s patience snaps.

Before you can reach the mug, her arms suddenly come down on either side of you, palms flat against the counter. You’re trapped, caged in by her arms and presence.

You yelp, startled, immediately turning toward her with wide eyes. Your hands rise automatically as if to rest on her arms, but then hover awkwardly mid-air, uncertain, before you lean back into the counter in a clear effort to maintain distance.

Natasha frowns, eyes flicking to your hovering hands, then back to your face.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks bluntly.

You blink, caught off guard. 

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

Natasha’s jaw clenches before sighing in frustration.

“Because ever since I got back, you haven’t touched me.”

Her words hang in the air, too raw and direct to mistake. 

You part your lips in surprise, but before you can say anything, footsteps sound in the hall before you can get a word out.

Steve appears in the doorway. He pauses mid-step, clearly having heard just enough to register the tension in the air and the compromising proximity of Natasha’s arms caging you in.

A beat passes. Then Steve clears his throat, awkwardly.

“I’ll, uh…circle back.” He turns and disappears almost immediately.

Both of you stare at the space he left behind for a second before Natasha turns back to you, one brow raised. Her gaze drops meaningfully to your still-hovering hands.

You fidget, realizing you’ve been caught. Your fingers curl slightly in the air, unsure of where to go.

“I…uh..I read your file,” you admit quietly. “From your time in the Red Room. What they did to you…”

Natasha’s expression eases immediately in understanding.

But you still look away, ashamed. 

“It just—after that, I realized how much I’ve always just…touched you without asking. And it’s your body, Natasha. You probably put up with it every time. And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I thought I should give you some space for once.”

For a moment, Natasha just looks at you, stunned. Then she laughs. A quiet, surprised huff that escapes from her chest like she’s been holding it in for days.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” she says, voice fond with disbelief.

Your eyes widen in confusion. “What?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she lowers her head until her forehead rests gently against your shoulder. 

Your hands hover again at her arms, but they don’t land.

“I like when you touch me,” Natasha murmurs. “It makes me feel safe. Like I’m supposed to be here.” 

You blink, slightly dumbfounded. Still registering her words. 

“…Oh.”

Natasha lets out a soft, amused sound at your tone of stunned surprise.

“And I’m still waiting,” she adds quietly, “for my welcome back hug.”

That startles you out of your daze. You let out a breath—half laugh, half sigh—as your arms finally rise and wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her in until there’s no space between you.

“Welcome home, Natasha,” you whisper into her hair like you’ve done many times before.

The effect is instant. Her body melts into yours, all the tension draining from her shoulders.

Natasha sinks into the embrace like she’s been craving it for days. Then slowly her arms slide around you, steady and secure.

She closes her eyes, breathing you in, confirming what she already knew.

This is where she feels safest. Warmth from your arms and hands on her back. Your heartbeat against her body. 

And that flutter in her chest? From just your touch?

Natasha decides, just for now, she’ll let it be.

That can be a different problem to confront for another day.

Right now, she’s content to be in your arms once again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading!

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Hey, Charles, i guess this means we should start believing in miracles. Like, where on earth did that come from?

Charles: I have no idea. As i said in a press conference, today is a day where I don't understand anything at motorsports

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I wanna write more but all of my time is either spent w me touring colleges and ACT prep or me cleaning and sleeping

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I feel like anakin gnaws on the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking so a few times when the object of his affections attempts to catch him off guard and kiss him he will melt

^he feels like he can be off guard around you. He only really zones out in the safety of his own home- you :)

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me reposting this feels like “this is Bob he wants to show you his plants and you BETTER listen”

To The Sun,

Suguwara Kōshi x GN!Reader — unrequited love | author's note utc

If he were to define his first love, Sugawara would describe you. To start off, he would smile and say how you were like the sun.

In the middle of the drink aisle, Sugawara can’t help but chuckle at himself at the reoccuring thought of the saga he went through in high school; a teenage boy and his teenage crush. 

Surely there were attractive people around school, but no one had left a stain on his heart as permanent as you did. For first impressions, he had thought you clicked with him in an instant, from being able to make small talk that leads to getting to know each other on a closer level and you were always somewhere within reach. From the stands during his volleyball matches to a few desks away, he could take a glance and feel the warmth you carry wherever you go. 

If Sugawara wasn’t nervous about his matches, it would be about how he would face you before you guys graduate, always mumbling to himself about how he could maybe catch you after school one day or maybe whenever fate blesses him with perfect timing.

Graduation finally came around and mixed emotions were consuming him. Happiness for moving on to the next chapter of his life, regrets because he wished he had taken the opportunity to excel in other areas of volleyball and more regrets because missing out on opportunities was what he was best at. He was not going to confess to you today because he continues to falter beneath the feet of cowardice. The racing thoughts of unrequited feelings felt like a needle slowly pushing into his heart with any other emotion that came with leaving high school and being kicked into adulthood.

As he breathes the cold, crisp air that winter brings with a heavy heart, he accepts that eventually, the sun's radiant warmth will find him again.

The can of soda catches his eye, picking it up to examine it. 

“Melon Soda..?” 

“Kōshi?”

Sugawara’s head whipped around to your familiar voice, like he had always been in your reach. His eyes meet yours, feeling the warmth of the sun once more. He was surprised to see you once more but he knew this time, it would be different. You guys are now adults with careers and aged maturity but somehow, it feels like he's back in highschool. His body betrays him, stuttering breathlessly trying to create small talk before you walk away.

"H-hey, it's been a while,"

You notice the stutter in his words, was he surprised? Nervous? Your eyes wander to the familiar can of soda in his hand. There's so much you want to catch him up on but in a busy place where people come and then go about their day, it's hard to keep someone waiting when they would most likely have other things to do.

"Yeah, it has.. Have you been doing well? Being a teacher like you planned to and everything?"

Sugawara could only give an affirming nod, averting your eyes and putting the can back with a chuckle.

"I'm doing well, the sun is shining so all is okay."

Akaai's Notes: Fake idgafer I saw you yearning!! anyways i hope i wrote sugawara okay (ó﹏ò｡) i also finally created a taglist if you would like to be tagged in my posts ^^ much love ♡

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The way he talks is so satisfying

"no! love my engineer! i ❤️J'ADORE❤️ bryan!"

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I love being multifandom bc wdym Charles Leclerc is my discord pfp but I have kpop demon hunter lyrics as my status

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average Ferrari experience:

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I’m severely non committed to my pfp’s on discord like I’ve been changing it sm lately ngl

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Someone send me writing reccs for hq or the mcu pls im bored

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Reminder that Lando Norris knows how to use photoshop and used it to make Charles Lechair 💀

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HOLYYYYYYY MOLAYYYY

we have been blessed in these 24 hours

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I’ve got a small Natasha blurb in the works but my time is occupied w writing for school + indie game dev stuff rn so hopefully I’ll try to post (?) I’ve never posted Natasha x reader on here but hopefully ppl like ittt

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The feminine urge to run my fingers thru someone’s hair or vice versa