#Brit Brit <3

[alm0sthere]

britney spears, 2004

[house-of-slayterr]

Send this to your favorite blogs! Let’s make new friends and spread love ❤️

I love you Brit Brit!!! So much, get over here so I can smush you’re cutie patootie face 🥺🤭💕💕

[goyurim]

when pavitr prabhakar is showing off india to his new spidey friends there's this tiny moment where he goes like "and this is where the british stole all our stuff!" and i kid you not, not a single person in the theatre laughed. not even a chuckle. a theatre full of grown-ass british people were losing their shit over the "hole" jokes like a bunch of fifth graders but when they're reminded of their war crimes they clench their own holes so hard they forget to breathe

[i-did-it-all-for-the-nookie]

saw women in green lighting

[anyroads]

British people: these avocados must go they're past their prime please won't someone eat them

The avocados:

[oicuperp]

bwah

picsart should ban me forever

[rhera]

A MURDER AT THE END OF THE WORLD Chapter 2: The Silver Doe

[mwahmimi]

being british and living in the UK i don’t get to see a lot of joe keery until the american crowd post it, but tonight baby girl is at the brits and i’ve just seen him present an award and my heart is so full<3

so proud of our baby girl!!

[reunitedinterlude]

lofi phantasy: the album

track 19: blue and black

[lululandd]

whiskey sour;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1577

warnings: meet..cute(?)

note: my heart said angst but my brain said fluff, and i cant write without a brain so… (also on ao3)

summary: the man at the bar never talks. not to women hitting on him, not to the men squaring him up for fights.

You see him every weekend for 3 months straight, sitting at the same place, wearing some rotation of dark hoodies, and sporting some manly drink that seem like they taste as angry as he looks. You notice the only one he talks to is the bartender. And now you, apparently.

You trudged into the bar with a sour face and a sour mood and sat next to him, which you wouldn’t do if there was legitimately any other seat. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” You pointed at his drink after getting the barkeep’s attention.

It surprised you when the drink came less than a third of the glass it came in. Did the bartender think you’re a pussy and gave you less? Whatever.

So you downed it in one go.

Horrible idea. It burned from your tongue down to your esophagus, and you coughed your lungs out for a solid minute while tears streamed down your face before the fire dissipates.

“You’re supposed to sip.” You heard someone mutter after your body stopped being dramatic over the drink.

Who the fuc—

“You savour it.” He chided. Oh, it’s the quiet man. So the reason no one talked to him is because he’s some kind of obnoxious fuck?

“No ‘you allright’ or ‘you okay’? Straight to the lecture?” You bit back. Fuck, you feel like purposefully bumping into him as you slid off your seat, but he’s built like a tank and you’re not going to test whether you’re wet noodle or wet tissue against him right now. You trudged out of the bar you entered not fifteen minutes ago, and out of anger you promise to never go back.

And by never you mean like two years. You’ve changed jobs, moved closer to work, and now you literally live above said bar you never wanna go back to.

Fuck.

A few weeks went by before seeing him again. Still sitting in the same place, still wearing dark hoodies, still staring daggers at everyone. You changed your mind on drinking that day, not when he’s around.

But the next day you weren’t so lucky. Thinking he wouldn’t be there—since it was a weekday—you plopped right in front of the barkeep and asked him about rumours and gossips of the week.

“Well, that hot widow I kinda fancy got a date yesterday, seemed like it went well.”

You rolled your eyes, “If only you asked her out first.”

He laughed as he slides you a glass of water. “Did that at a previous place, people think they get free drinks when they date a bartender.”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“Nah. I mean, I’ll give them some but lots take it too far and think they can order for a group.”

You scrunched you nose, “I think you just dated shit people, Sam.”

He scoffed, “Shut the fuck up.”

His attention was away from your a second and you decided to take a glance at who ordered. It’s him. You didn’t even notice when he came, to think someone his size would make a lot of noise when they walk. But you were too caught up in conversation, you guess.

When he got back he grabbed two glasses and filled it with a big ball of ice and poured very little of what you think was bourbon into the glasses. You had learnt a little here and there, since you do live above and spend some time with Sam on slow days. To your surprise he handed one to you.

You immediately looked towards the man’s direction and he waved his glass at you.

Oh no.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the glass and place yourself next to him.

“Allright?”

You sighed, “Yeah, don’t worry, I remember this is a sippy drink and not a gulpy drink.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, by the way.” You raised your glass and started sipping. You can’t hide your wince. This would definitely be a good if you were depressed or sad or trying to forget a horrible incident or getting over a breakup, but things are way too nice in your life for you to enjoy it properly. “Would you be offended if I asked the barkeep to make this into a whiskey sour?”

He answered by waving Sam down.

As your drinks slowly diminish, you learn exactly two things about him. His name is Simon and he likes dogs. The man dodged so many questions like Neo and those fucking bullets, and if Sam didn’t somehow made the previously godawful whiskey taste so goddamn tasty you would’ve probably gone upstairs and to bed by now.

But Simon is a good listener, so whenever you feel like having a drink, you sit next to him. It’s definitely a biased opinion, but you think it’s highly unfair that he is as funny as he is attractive. He’s cracking jokes as if his life depended on it, like an ugly kid that had to make his way through school being funny to avoid getting bullied. You also learnt one new thing about him, he has a friend called Soap. Of course you didn’t ask about him, because you know he doesn’t divulge any information, but it’s really funny that the other man calls him quite often lately and then hearing them bantering back and forth for a couple minutes before you can hear the scot on the other end of the phone yell something so scottish you couldn’t understand a word. For a little while you fall into this fun routine, until he stopped coming one day. You think nothing of it at first, like he is a grown man and he could have those seasonal jobs, but weeks turned to months and you miss your drinking buddy.

~

It was a rainy afternoon, and you opted to wait at the office an extra two hours for the rain to lighten up at least a little. Regret settled deep in your bones for rejecting so many ride home offers, as you wrung what you could of your wet clothes. Some fucker in a pickup truck thought it would be funny to drive at sixty by some puddles and splash everyone at the sidewalk. Everyone huddled under the same awning to try and clean themselves up and share their plight. After feeling dry enough, you started to head back when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, and then a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like a wet rat.”

Fighting words. Those are fighting words. You did the one thing you know is appropriate for such a greeting.

You hugged him. Wet clothes and all.

He was tense for the duration of the hug, and ended it quickly with pats to your upper back. A wide smirk graced your face as you looked up at him, and you can immediately tell—albeit covered by a face mask—that he’s unhappy of the outcome.

“Hi.” You greeted, the smirk getting wider at his apparent annoyance.

“There’s a kebab place nearby. Let’s go.”

It was a seven minute walk, and you were glad the place he led you to was rather dirty, cramped, and two girls were doing their homework on a table at the back. The food will definitely be good. You looked around for a place to sit after telling him what you wanted. Scouting for a table with no food left, you stood near a family of four and waited for them to leave.

Simon came back with the food you ordered and some drinks you definitely didn’t tell him to get. But it was apparently some foreign soda that you’ve never seen, and you were happy to get to try it. Halfway through your meal someone clapped his shoulders and you swear he was about to stand up and do something until he saw the other man’s face.

The man with a mohawk started, “Who’s this, LT?”

Simon skipped too many beats to answer, and looking at his face, you swear he was legitimately about to throw down, so you did what you think would be natural at a time like this.

“Oh, uhh… I don’t know him, I just sat here because the place was full.”

He then introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Johnny. This here is my mate, Simon.”

“Piss off, Johnny.”

Johnny laughed, and when he went to the cashier you were afraid he would join you, but he said goodbye as soon as he got his order.

Both of you ate in silence for a bit. “So you don’t know me, huh?” He finally cracked, smiling at you.

Oh thank god, you thought he was mad, “Sorry, you looked really uncomfortable.”

“That bad?”

You slowly nodded, “Honestly, yeah. Scared you were gonna beat him up on the spot.”

“Nah.” He sipped on his soda, contemplating something. “Do that at work though, not here.”

You blinked. “You’re gonna beat him up.. At work?”

He raised his eyebrows as a confirmation, and you can see he’s not gonna elaborate.

Leaving the place, he walked you back to your place, under the guise of needing a drink after having such a ‘rough night’.

“Why?” You teased him as you two walked in, “Is it rough because now your friend thinks you like people that looks like a wet rat?”

“Nah. He already knows I do.”

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he did tell Sam to make two whiskey sours.

[harrytheehottie]

THE BRITS A HARRY STYLES ONE SHOT 

word count: 1.6k very hot & steamy! 

This wasn’t your first award show with Harry. You had just come off Grammy week which was your first ‘outing’ as a couple -- well, a couple to the people around you. You made the joint decision to not walk the carpet for both events. You were one of the last few things that Harry could keep to himself as someone who has had most of his privacy shared with the world, with or without his consent since he was a teenager. He still wanted you there alongside him during the most important moments of his career.

You watched and cheered alongside your group which was made up of Harry’s regular entourage, his sister and a few extra label heads that he invited. You watched as he opened the show, performing As It Was with much more energy than he could have at the Grammys where he was immediately hit with the turntable going the wrong way and detouring his entire performance and night.

You couldn’t wipe the grin off of your face when you quickly rushed backstage during the first commercial break to Harry’s green room - where he was changing into his third outfit of the night. His chocolate brown hair was styled perfectly from his hands constantly running through it. He was buttoning up his silk baby blue shirt when you got his attention through the mirror,

“There she is,” he said in a sing-songy voice, clearly already helping himself to some beverages before you got there.

“You were incredible,” you told him before walking over and leaving a kiss on his lips, your pink gloss rubbing onto his lips.

“Mhmmm, thank you - not just saying that?” His voice was low trying not to let anyone else in the room here. Harry was the hardest person on himself and you knew the mishap from the Grammys was replaying in his mind.

“Never.” You reassured him, leaning up to meet his lips again.

“Ahem” Lambert cleared his throat as he tried to get situated into his suit.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll be out of your way!”

You gave Harry one more kiss goodbye before heading back out to your seat.

You decided to sit at the second table where Harry’s collaborators and all the plus ones of his entourage sat. You were in an odd predicament where people knew you were together but they also didn’t - the public was unaware of your relationship with Harry, you’d see speculation on if you were one of the roadies or a new assistant that Jeff hired and you’d see an odd comment here or there asking if you were the girlfriend but nothing that really caught wind. Harry did a great job of protecting you and your locked instagram helped.

You cheered him on from your table as he won award after award after award. He was on fire - downing every shot that came his way, drinking liters of tequila at this point and stumbling through his speech as he took a long pause collecting his thoughts on stage. This was your favorite type of Harry when he lets all his anxieties go and allows himself to enjoy the night ahead.

The fourth and last award for the night - album of the year. You watched with bated breath as the credits rolled through of all the different nominees, Harry turned around to you for a quick moment catching your eyes before blowing a kiss before the fate of the night was announced.

“And the album of the year goes to… Harry Styles.”

You jumped up from your seats in excitement.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Harry swept the Brits.

You were screaming and yelling and hugging everyone next to you and you were so caught up in your own reaction that it took you a second to realize what Harry was doing, maneuvering through the group of people to find you. His arms opened wide inviting you in - suddenly the cameras and the stories and the future headlines didn’t matter. Your boy won and you wanted to join him in all the excitement and exactly how he wanted.

So when he wrapped you in a hug and began whispering in your ear telling you how he can’t wait for later you were a goner. You did something you probably would have never done if the two of you were a little bit sober but you kissed him on the lips quickly, “now stop wasting time and go up there.” He held onto you for a little bit longer before gathering himself and walking up towards the stage with Tom and Tyler.

He was flustered up there, the mix of emotions, tequila and having his favorite person in the world Stanley Tucci present him the award. You watched as he said his thank you’s and gave the mic to Tyler and Kid to say theirs. You were elated for him, buzzing for

You knew your actions would be called into question soon. The headlines that Jeffrey would have to handle. But those were Monday’s problem, right now you were with all your friends celebrating the one man that brought you all together. And when Jeff came over to give you a hug just as Harry began speaking on stage, you knew you had nothing to worry about.

You watched as he clung onto Stanley Tucci through Tom and Tyler’s speeches. He was at the level of drunk where a cup of water or three would do him some good. All three of them fumbled through their speeches before the last performer took the stage. You were overwhelmed with so much emotion and you needed to be as close to him as possible.

Last week, you met him at the after party but this time you decided to wait for him. You found his green room again wanting to give him a quick congratulations before finding the rest of your group and heading over to whatever party he needed to show face for.

“Can I come in?” You knock first thinking his stylist and team would be back there as well not wanting to interrupt anything.

Harry opened the door and you were sure your jaw had unhinged from its place. He was standing there in his tiny briefs, his torso filled with tattoos and semi-erect in between changing into his after party attire. He was the only one in the room

“Told Lambert I got it from here but I think…” Harry paused trying to find his words. He was buzzed and giggling but aware.

“Need a hand?” You finished his thought for him. And just as the words left your mouth you were aware of the innuendos that would follow. Harry closed the door behind you and you watched as he locked it - now the two of you were just alone for the first time all night.

He had a giant grin on his face, you knew he was up to something. You watched as he walked over to the couch and you followed him standing over him as he looked up at you as he whispered slowly, “need you now” moving his hands over his crotch.

He hadn’t even touched you yet and you were already a goner. The biggest night of his career and all he wanted to do was be as close to you as possible as soon as he could - even if it was on a questionable couch in his green room.

Harry reached out and hooked his arm around you and pulled you onto his lap. You thought back to earlier that day when you squeezed in a facetime call to ask what dress you should wear and Harry insisted on you wearing the pink mini. You were centered with him almost embarrassed at the state that he already worked you up in,

“So wet for me,” He whispered.

You leaned forward as you began grinding against him, your mouth at his ears as you whispered back, “I’ve got a thing for winners.”

Harry’s hands found the zipper on the side of your dress and began haphazardly pulling it down, your decision to not wear a bra was certainly working in your favor as he moved his mouth over your nipple using his fingers to play with the other. You shuttered against him as he began to suck, grinding against him as your collective moans filled the room around you.

“Want to feel you inside me,” you said as you got up for a second to take everything off. Harry watched as he too got himself out of his briefs and you were back on him. Your hands stroked him once, twice watching as he threw his hand back highlighting the veins on his neck. You lined your center with his and slowly inching down with that familiar stretch.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

You loved being this close with him, the vulnerability and excitement in being the person he wants to be with in moments like this. It was more than just sex.

You began grinding slowly against his length, Harry whispering encouraging ‘s’good for me’s through his teeth. You moved your hands into his hair -- pulling and grabbing as you worked yourself to finish and when Harry’s hands moved from your breasts and began working your clit, you were done for - moans and groans filling the room with Harry reaching completion soon after.

You sat in silence just taking each other and the moment in.

“You kissed me on camera,” Harry teased as you got up from his lap and sat next to him on the couch. He had his face turned toward you.

“I did” you giggled moving forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

��S’ike I’ve won five times tonight - four brits and” Harry found your eyes before continuing, “now, everyone knows you're my girl.”

[skitskatdacat63]

2024 British Grand Prix - Qualifying - George Russell

[lunar-solarsystem]

whiteboard doodles!! :D

closeups under :3

(click pictures for better quality)

Ruin thanks you for joining him for tea btw, @justdrawlynn11 :D

i go sleeb now guys, ngl i probably shouldve been asleep a while ago but we aren’t gonna talk about thattttttttt

okok goodnight guys!! :3

[fricoth]

Their asses are NOT listening

<<tried a new coloring style n its SO MUCH better than the beige muted thing I used to do before ong I love colors & whimsicalness!!! :33

/why did tumblr compressed it so much :((

[i-did-it-all-for-the-nookie]

some women of saw<3

[gumjester]

thinking of the nominees for thronecoming king is so 😭😭😭😭😭 THERE ARE SIX BOYS THAT WE KNOW OF IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL... there are four thronecoming nominees... i dont think this is going to be a thrilling race