#I want to put them in a jar and shake them up

[itzpookiepooh]

I have non stop been listening to Soda Pop for the last few days and it's eating out all of my thoughts 🙃. I CANT STOP LISTENING ITS TOO CATCHY!!!!

On that note, what would LADs be like of their MC was under the Saja Boy trance or just in general a fangirl MC who loves this boy group and is singing and dancing to their songs word for word.

Don’t hate me but I haven’t seen or heard anything from this since everyone posted about it I heard a snippet of the song last night but that was it 😅 I’ll do my best though because I know a lil some some about fangirling.

Fangirl

Rafayel would do anything to make you happy and if that meant buying merch and concert tickets so be it. You’ve been to so many Ateez concerts you lost count. Thanks to your loving boyfriend? All front row seats.

“Who’s your favorite?” He asked as you danced to their latest song.

“Mingi and Sans!” You nearly squeal at the thought of them. “I love the whole band though so don’t think I don’t.” You point at him.

“You like them more than me?” Rafayel’s jaw dropped as he watched you belt the lyrics. You stopped and turned to him.

“I’d never put them over you.” You pout and caress his head. He sighed in relief letting you pet him.

“But if either of them show up to our wedding and object? I might leave you at the alter.” You joke making him gasp and push you away.

“Not funny.” He pouts before you console him. “I’m just kidding! You’re still my favorite person in the whole universe.” You kiss his puffy cheeks.

Oh Caleb is down to fangirl with you. He is buying you matching merch for whoever you both like. You’ve bought photo cards to trade and everything. Caleb even won tickets in a raffle. Who knew he was so good at guessing how many gum ball’s were in a jar?

“I’ve been waiting for a tour forever!” You squeal as Caleb laughs at you.

“Who do you think will look best? Callum or Michael?” Caleb asked as he stuffed the tickets in his jacket pocket.

“It’s really between Callum and Luke.” You pointed out as he nodded agreeing with you.

“You’re so right.” He agreed as you both walked and talked about concert plans.

He’ll drop you off and pick you up but that’s it. It gets a bit too rowdy for him but he’ll support you on whoever you’re talking about. He will wait until your back to listen to you go on and on about how the concert went. From the moment the lights went out to the very end when they left the stage.

“I’m glad you had fun.” He’ll say as he drives and looks over it you.

“Oh definitely!” You squeal holding all your merch you bought. He just chuckles and shakes his head.

He mostly listens intently to see what he can gift you.

Plays whatever you recommend on a vinyl. He really wants to see what you’re into. He definitely doesn’t get a song stuck in his head and hums it when you aren’t around. When you do catch him you smirk like SpongeBob finding out Squidward likes Krabby Patties.

“You like them, don’t you Sylus?” You tease him as he just watches you.

“Not particularly, no.” He answers as you walk over to his record player and hold up one of the records.

“Right…” You shake your head.

He doesn’t really know what’s going on if he’s honest. He’s just happy because you’re happy so when you talk about them he just nods along with whatever you said. You explained how fast you needed to get tickets and that you had to stay up until 2am for them to drop. He just nodded his head.

“Okay so I’m aiming for Linkon or Skyhaven. I can make it to either.” You explained rapidly as you waited for the timer to go down.

Xavier just nodded as he yawned time ticking by. He waited patiently with you as you kept refreshing the page. When the timer went down Xavier moved faster than the speed of light to get the tickets just so you wouldn’t be disappointed.

“AHH! Xavier you’re the best!” You clung to him as his head leans on your cheek.

I don’t listen to any K-pop bands but I do love 5SOS, 1D, and Little Mix 🙂‍↕️ a band is a band 🫵🏾

[gremlin-girly]

Date Your Dad

Characters: Alexei Shostakov, f!reader, Yelena Belova, Bucky Barnes, John Walker, Ava , Bob Reynolds. (Alexei x Reader is hinted at!)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ Read at your own risk.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestive themes, fluff

Summary: When Yelena pranks you relentlessly, you threaten to date her dad. She doesn't expect you to follow through with it.

Word count: on mobile sorry

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

A/N: Not my usual thing ik but this was an unhinged drabble idea that's been sat in the drafts lol. I did actually finish my 10 fics I just have to edit them now 😈 Enjoy!

"YELENA!" You screech as icy water trickles down your spine. Yelena had been on a pranking kick after re-watching Home Alone and you seemed to be the most common victim after John.

You can hear Yelena's laughter from three doors up and march yourself to then before pounding the door furiously. Your hair, your outfit, your pride were soaked from the bucket of cold water she had left above an ajar door.

"If you keep this up I'll date your dad Yelena." You warn her through her bedroom door.

"No. You wouldn't." She laughs.

"I would." You argue back. "Try me, Lena. Try me."

The next morning, not heeding your warning, Yelena swaps out your sugar for salt in your coffee and you plot the demise of her sanity.

As soon as Alexei enters the kitchen, you beam at him and offer him a spritely good morning, which he returns in kind.

"What do you have planned for today?" You ask him, playing obviously nonchalant.

"Not much. Only training and making dinner for everyone." He replies, cracking eggs into a mug

"Could I... join you?" You ask shyly, batting your eyelashes. "I need to work on getting stronger and I'd love to help you cook."

Alexei blinks at you, stunned for a moment before drinking his eggs in one gulp and nodding. You can feel Yelena's eyes searing into the back of your skull and once Alexei awkwardly leaves to change for training Yelena addresses you.

"I know what you're doing." She says. "You won't win in making me uncomfortable."

"I've watched him chug six raw eggs this morning - without throwing up." You whisper smugly as you pass her. "And I'm just soooo impressed. Besides, it's not fair that your dad cooks for everyone. I just want to help."

Yelena frowns into her cereal and shakes her head. You're trying to rile her up. She can't let you win.

And then, it got worse.

Any time you were in the kitchen it was;"Alexei, could you help me open this jar please?" Or "Alexei, could you be a peach and reach hand me the cumin hidden on the topshelf please?"

Anytime you were in the gym together, you wore less baggy clothes and made a point to stand closer to Alexei and feel up his muscles ("Woah, look at those tree trunks! You must be stronger than the Hulk!") to which Alexei would flex them for you and show off his tattoos.

Yelena began to notice the way her dad would stand closer to you, or show you cat videos, or pictures of her when she was little. The way he would light up like New Year's when you'd enter a room and smile dopily when you would look over at him.

By the end of the week, Yelena was at the end of her tether but seeing you come home with milkshakes, laughing at something Alexei had said, she almost begged you to stop. However, when she'd slyly spoken to her dad about where you had both been, he'd happily informed her that it was a date. And that was what made her snap.

As she sat with her head in her hands, explaining to the rest of the team what had been going on, Bob rubbed her shoulder reassuringly whilst John and Ava laughed.

"You pressed her." John shrugs. "She did warn you."

Ava shakes her head. "I'm surprised she's managed to keep it up for so long."

"Guys, this my dad." Yelena sighs. "He will probably be in love with her by Sunday and she will break his heart!"

"Oh." The three younger members say in unison. Bucky doesn't look up from his report.

"Then do we break them up?" John asks, vaguely against at the the thought of Alexei sobbing uncontrollably over him like when they watched The Iron Giant on Team Movie Night.

Bob hums thoughtfully. "Maybe you should just stop annoying her and apologise?"

Yelena shoots him a glare and he raises his hands apologetically. "Forget I suggested it."

"You know you have to do it." Ava huffs and Yelena sighs in defeat and begins getting to her feet.

"I know." She hangs her head. You had won. "I'll be right back."

As she heads to your room, Yelena can hear the faintest of whispers and giggles emanating from behind your door. Then she hears something no child ever wants to hear; a breathy sigh of her father's name.

Her cheeks go red with anger and embarassment. How dare you! That's her dad! He may not be the smartest hero all the time but playing with his feelings was not okay. Steeling herself and scrunching her eyes she barges in.

"Lena?" Alexei's voice is soft and surprised and then your voice follows.

"You okay?"

She peeks one eye open and you stand next to Alexei, holding a small fluffy ginger guinea pig that wheeks in annoyance that you've stopped lavishing it with attention.

"You have ruined your surprise." Alexei huffs dramatically but he grins over at his daughter who is utterly flabbergasted. "Meet Natalia."

"It's a boy, Alexei-"

"Nathaniel." Alexei says without skipping a beat. "I did some research on guinea pigs and apparently they get lonely so you have to keep them in pairs."

Alexei beams as he takes the hairy creature from your delicate grasp and offers him to Yelena. "Y/N was helping me pick him out."

"He's got a big personality." You chuckle. "And such nice hair. I think Bucky has some competition."

Yelena thinks of her guinea pig, also named Bob, as she holds the distinguished Nathaniel in her hands. She had been meaning to get Bob a companion but between missions, it must have slipped her mind. Her lip quivers a little but she beams almost as brightly as her dad as she thanks you both profusely, silently vowing to never prank you again.

"Whew. That was close." Alexei sighs when Yelena finally leaves ten minutes later after two rounds of bone crushing hugs, shooting you a big, goofy smile.

You smile back. "Maybe next time we can tell her about us."

END

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[spinachart]

cats when they stare at you

[x333141xd]

yapper x listener oh yeahhhhh

[aromantic-and-aromatic]

Honestly, I'm all for sephiroth and jenova being practically the same thing bc the repeated use of the word puppet by sephiroth himself feels very ironic and bitter. Telling cloud that he doesn't have emotions, that he was created in a lab and that his memories are fake, all of them. That he didn't have a childhood. Never was a child. And yeah, sephiroth being 100% in control and just very unwell also fits in this, in his projection over cloud being his puppet just like he was Shinra's, even though he would never acknowledge it. But I just like the idea that he believes himself freed from everyone's strings, finally in control of his own life for once, just to be too blind to realize that not even those choices were his own bc following orders is still the only thing he knows

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

thinking again about The Ghoul and how certain facets of cooper howard never went away and instead just sort of got intensified or hardened with time, exhibit one: he spends every single interaction with lucy trying to drill into her head "the wasteland is trying to kill you" in the meanest, most straightforward way possible, but he's completely (brutally) honest the entire time - which is a big deal, considering everyone in lucy's life has been lying to her from the beginning!

then you think back to the very first time we're ever introduced to cooper howard, when his daughter, the person he cares about more than anything else on this earth, asks him if he thinks a nuclear apocalypse is gonna happen, and instead of lying to soothe her fears, instead of saying no honey of course it's not gonna happen, he says well i certainly hope not, but us cowpokes, we take it as it comes, right? not "your fears aren't real and they can't hurt you" but "your fears are justified, and that's okay, because you have what it takes to face them."

and i just think that's really, really neat

[lacyramen]

Hmm Karin being treated like an object at a young age -> Hypersexuality VS Sai being treated like an object at a young age -> Asexuality

[ohwhatagloomyshow]

i am. compiling my gemmahellyna fic ideas. may never write them. but they are going into A List.

what are the tropes we like.

[psychopomp-namine]

you don't understand how much I felt the slow saline drip of gaining interest in a character, and instead of going, "oooh. interesting. new blorbo?" I instead went, "...really. that guy? oh. oh no."

<- guy with a li tianchen icon ends up blorbofying liu xiao. alas, I have played myself 😔

[reiverreturns]

seth and sol are so funnyyyyyy when do they start kissing

[thorinoakenbutt]

I'm not even against DA's slow push into becoming an action rpg but I've such a fondness for the style of older RPGs and I feel like BG3 does a really good job of modernizing it in a way that still feels really nostalgic

[sheeepsprout]

Almost done with my first playthrough of Deltarune chapter 2,,,

[collegeoflore]

once again too stressed to write more than 3 words today but i Have been having a fun time thinking about how similarly pathetic astarion and lestat are. my failwives forever honestly

[koraesrambles]

Winchesters vs batboys pt 3

John and Bruce would hate each other. Just, no holds barred, absolute loathing on sight. John would think Bruce doesn't do enough to protect his kids, he'd be soooo judgemental of Bruce's no kill rule. John (at least in the graphic novels) went on a murder spree to kill anyone who knew that Sam had the potential to become evil later in life. John is a representation of everything Bruce hates. John does not believe in second chances. John believes his family's life is more important than other people's. John is willing to spill gallons of blood to keep his kids safe.

Bruce would be sickened by the fact that John thinks himself able to be judge, jury, and executioner. He'd be disgusted by the criminal activity John regularly engages in in order to survive (not everyone is a billionaire Bruce.) Bruce HATES guns and thinks that John fetishizes a weapon of destruction. He can't believe that John is okay with just murdering every monster he decides isn't redeemable.

They reluctantly bond over being paranoid bastards with contingency plans though. Bruce is sickened that John asked Dean to save Sam or kill him. John is downright condescending about Bruce's "my family is my failsafe" plan.

John is actually kind of impressed by Bruce giving his son Super Anxiety as a way to control him. He acknowledges that it is super messed up and definitely leaning toward super villainy, but he's impressed despite himself. Though he does think Bruce is a moron because now his son is kind of useless? Like, what was Bruce really trying to accomplish here?

The bats love each other but none of them are as codependent as the winchesters (who are absolutely in a league of their own when it comes to that). Bruce always needs to know where his kids are, but doesn't really stop them from going places. John needs his kids to be where he put them at all times. He needs to know that Sam is in the motel room and Dean is by his side. Even when Sam goes to college he's constantly checking up on him (which is very Bruce coded of him, honestly. "I love you so much and am terrified for your safety but instead of telling you this like a sane person I'm just gonna stalk you like a creep.")

When John finds out Bruce chips his kids with trackers, he acts like that's a horrible human rights violation but is also like 🤔 Dean also kind of likes the idea. Sam is horrified.

John and Bruce would come to blows regularly but also be subtly taking notes. John wants Bruce's resources. Bruce wants John's ability to control his kids.

[beanlot]

ellie, who uses a vibrator on you for the first time, and just can’t get e-fucking-nough.

wc: 2.2k (smut + light fluff)

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

“the fuck is that?” you hum from the crook of her neck after having examined the small toy, and it rests in her palm, her voice a little shaky from nerves. “okay.. so.. uh.. this little guy, helps stimulate certain areas..”

“this little guy?” you repeat her words with a playful smirk, pupils dilated with adoration when you look at her, resplendent enough that she can see her flustered expression reflecting back at her when she maintained that eye contact.

“yeah, this little guy..” she has a teasing smile to her, which only amplifies the pooling anticipation in your stomach.

“turn it on. turn it on.” you eagerly whisper against her neck, your lips still numb from your previous make-out, tingling from her savoured taste. after a few seconds of tampering with the remote, you hear a silent whirring. “alright.. says here that this is the lightest level. ‘n then..” she mumbles, and the whirring intensifies into a jarring buzz.

“i see..” you mumble as you watch the toy convulsing in her palm, and you touch it, your fingertips shivering intensely upon the metallic. “damn.”

but whilst your eyes are inspecting it, her eyes are plastered onto you, eyes brimming with desire. lust. hunger. you don’t notice it, you just feel her seductive breath on your cheek; her inviting whisper following shortly after.

“let me.. please?”

you slowly turn your head to look at her, noting her low lids and desperately parted lips that beg for your acceptance. you don’t answer, admiring her features as it fuels the fluttering in your chest and the cudgelling of your heartbeat against your ribs.

you want it. you want her so bad.

“it’ll feel good, baby.. i’ll try..” her whisper is a plead, delicate kisses peppering your jawline so seductively as she guides the device to your chest. your breath is unregulated, shaky with her intuitive touches.

you sigh, when she grazes it over your clothed nipple, the vibration a pleasure on your breast. “it tickles.” you breathily laugh, your stomach shuddering along with the device.

“tickles?” she laughs against your lips, smooching at the corner of them amorously. her elbow propping herself up, and you watch as she grazes it repeatedly over your nipple; watching as the fabric starts raising slightly when it hardens.

the vibrations start teasingly streamlining down to your underwear, wetness so evident when your clothed slit engulfs the metal.

“gonna put it on your clit, my love..” she whispers, as if she’s asking for your permission, your guidance.

her breath ghosts your cheek as her gaze focuses on your thighs - the heaven between them. the way your dripping cunt swallows it, blissful sensations on your swollen and clothed clit when she applies pressure.

“oh..” you whisper shakily, your hips instinctively and subtly rutting into it. because you want more.

“oh?” she repeats, eyebrows arching momentarily. she experiments, fingertips guiding the device - circling, tapping and grazing your clit.

it’s when she pulls the dampened fabric to the side, holding the vibrator down onto your hood that you seem rather eager. “wait. keep it-keep it there.” you sigh, thighs twitching. you feel your core tightening, clit pulsing with it's own lustrous heartbeat, and your hips subconsciously rolling into it. “keep it-there..”

“feels good, baby?” her lips subtly turn upwards into something you could only describe as a snarky smirk, tongue resting between her teeth.

you’re focused, ankles quivering and your abdomen tensing repeatedly from the ecstasy. you hear her mumble again through the concentration, her irises narrowed at your body’s reaction. “shaking so much, holy shit.”

your breathing is a little jagged, and you’re clutching at her wrist, making sure she doesn’t move or mettle up that teasing courage of hers to deny you what you so desperately want need. “just don’t move it..” you gasp, your back arching into the vibrations.

you scan her features through the haze; pretty verdant eyes tainted with desire, the fruitful shape of her lips, and that fucking scar slicing her eyebrow. she's wearing that stupid black shirt you like so much, and has that stupid hairstyle you love. “you’re so hot..” you whisper faintly, impulse that reflects your innate need to finish spilling out. “i’m gonna-fuck. i’m gonna ride your fucking face after this..”

“yeah?” she arches her eyebrows, voice a pitch higher, as if she’s challenging you. mocking you, even.

“uh huh.. gonna-i’m gonna-“ you try to think of what to say, but nothing other than your whimpering blither seeping from your helpless lips. and so she interrupts you,

“gonna what, baby?” she whispers, and you know for sure now - she's definitely mocking you. you look down to her hand between your thighs; watching the tendons that manifest her slender wrist start to twitch, those admirable veins framing her knuckles.

your impending orgasm is obvious by how tremulous your body reacts, her fingers amping up the vibrations as she presses it deeper onto your clitoral hood.

"oh, that's it. just let go, feel it.." she whispers, her free hand slithering down to your tremoring hip, measuring up the clenching and troubled muscles within them. her mouth is watering, she doesn't realise it until she swallows back her saliva.

she wants nothing more than to suck at your clit, coat you with her, slurp up your taste so disgustingly that you wouldn't be able to look at her the same tomorrow.

her free hand glides towards your slit, your thick juices coating her slim fingers so seductively. you hear her hum, a low and guttural moan, as you feel one of them slew inside your hole. it contracts so welcomingly around her finger, and it's so easy for her to slide another in.

"m sorry, baby.. i should've asked.." she whispers when she hears your troubled whine, but its not troubled in the sense you don't want it, it's troubled in the sense that you've never understood how fucking good it feels to be stuffed with her fingers.

so you shake your head with difficulty, trying to notion to her that it's fine, she can do as she pleases.

so she teasingly twines them upwards, feeling the harsh vibrations of the toy on your clit internally against your walls. "you feel that?" she asks softly, her voice silk.

"more.. just-just a little more.." you exhale unstably, so desperate to feel her against your most sensitive nerves, so guiding and patient with her. she takes your words, absorbs them with gratitude.

"more, my love.. i got you.." she's also unsteady with her breath, and just like your desperation, she's desperate to impress.

you feel her curl further against your spongy and quivering walls, eyes rolling back as she gradually fucks you with her fingers. "like that, pretty girl?"

"uh huh.. uh-like that.. like-oh fuck, ellie, baby-"

she can tell you're gonna come by how choked up your breaths are, and how rigid your body feels under her hands. "nice and easy, nice and easy.." she whispers, and you suddenly feel her wet tongue on your stomach, streamlining up to your abdomen and leaving a trail.

you can hear your own thighs walloping against her hand, your cunt squelching with every appreciative pump of her fingers. and ellie does what ellie does best, she talks you through it.

"thas' it, feel what i'm doing to you. just relax.."

"you whining for me?”

and it's suddenly too much, your eyes rolling back and head digging further into the fleecy pillow. "please please please please-" you're begging, pleading like a whore for it. you feel her tongue lick selfishly at your sternum, your shirt riding up and the air whipping against your piping hot skin.

when you look down to watch her tongue start relentlessly flicking at your nipple, her eyes dreamily shut, the sneezelike sensation in your core possesses everything in your body.

you're coming so aggressively, back arching into her as she keeps the vibrator on your messy folds - only this time, grazing it directly over your overstimulated clit, her fingers still urging you to your overbrimming limit.

you're whining like a mess, how she likes it.

she’s trying to hold you down, or at least stabilise you when you come, her fingers seeping out of your cunt and clutching at your shaking hips.

"i know it feels good, i know.." she murmurs against your skin, goosebumps littering your chest and arms. her fingers are glossed with your cum, thumb tracing patterns into your waist.

you’re trembling so much that she keeps losing grip.

she decreases the vibrations drastically to aid your oversensitivity, but keeps the device buried against your clit; your underwear slowly going back over your drenched slit as she lets go.

you’re confused at first, shuffling around uncomfortably when you feel your underwear soak up your cum, your clit still getting ambushed from the low vibrations.

but she’s not one to disappoint, stripping off her sweatpants and her bare thighs smoothing against yours as she situates her bare and drooling cunt against you.

your thigh is hoisted against her clothed abdomen, and you can feel the dips of her lanky muscle contract slightly. she’s worked herself up.

“ride my face in a minute, baby— i just.. i need this..” she sighs urgently, feeling the wetness of your underwear; she’s thirsty for it, dehydrated for it.

her clit is purple and erect, subtly grinding against your underwear, the vibrations humming through the fabric and stimulating her so divinely. the tone in her arms and the impulsive rolling of her hips, her stomach rubbing against your bare and piping hot thigh.

fuck, you like her using you like this. so selfish, self-serving.

you’re starting to uncontrollably tremor again, her movements forcing the vibrator against your overwhelmed clit. “i’ll be quick, pretty—i’ll be quick-“ she gasps, delectable lips parted.

her rutting hips are becoming sloppier, the bed frame starting to rock against the wall and creak.

“ellie—ellie, please- please hurry, it’s too much..” you whine, because the overstimulation is too shattering for you to orgasm again. but you’re trying to cherish the high of watching her face scrunch from abundant pleasure and yearning, the prize of hearing her guttural whimpers.

and it’s all so worth it, the torture of sensory overload, when her thighs start quivering against yours. her fingers clenching your thigh so frantically, her frenzied state erupting as she orgasms.

“mmph-holy shit-‘mm baby—“ she gasps, lips parted erotically against your knee, the adrenaline forcing her fingers to twitch around your thighs.

she’s still rutting against you, bathing through the last remaining ripples of her orgasm, before she takes note of your raw state. her fingers are delicate, sliding your swamped underwear down your legs and turning the vibrator off. it’s submerged in your cum, sweat and enjoyment.

“are you okay? was that too much?” she asks softly, hands gently squeezing your kneecaps in reassurance. she’s not sure why, but now that her impulsive drive to finish on your vibrating pussy is satisfied and fulfilled, she has some worried aftertaste on her tongue.

worried that she pushed your boundaries, or didn’t consider your feelings.

“no, you idiot. that was-“ you sigh, covering your dazed eyes with your arm. “that was so fucking hot.”

you hear her relieved laugh, and it’s silent for a few seconds. nothing but the sound of the light drizzles of rain outside, the balance of your relaxed and seduced breaths.

“still wanna ride my face, ma’am?” you hear her ask, not ignoring the tinge of hope in her tone. and so you laugh, looking up at her. she has a hue of mauve under her eyes, bags bags that demonstrate her careless sleep schedule.

but she’s stunning. and she makes those eyebags annoyingly sexy.

“i always wanna ride your face..” you mumble, unable to resist the spirited smile that tugs your lips upwards when you see the rosiness in her face bloom. she’s excited, she’s a loser for it.

“but.. maybe.. in the shower.. i’m like—“ you mumble, sluggishly sitting up, discomfort when you look down and see thick strings of your arousal between your thighs. “i’m hot, and sweaty, and gross.”

you look at her, and you’re strangely flustered by how she maintains eye contact. it’s out of character, even for ellie, but she’s jumped through the hurdles of being awkward with you.

all of the timidity and shyness has been bleached; she looks at you with such intimate love. “okay.. fine by me, ma’am..” she nods, lazily blinking through her infatuation.

and for the first time, it’s you that can’t uphold the eye contact. your eyes darting anywhere but hers - her collarbone, freckled cheeks fanned by her lashes, those admirable hands that are still resting on your knees.

they trace tender and doting patterns into your shins, nails that tickle and gently scratch your skin.

and when you look back up, she’s still gazing, nailing that romantic and worshipping gaze straight through you.

fuck, stop looking at me like that, williams.

“i love you..” you whisper, hands resting on her shoulders, before gliding up to cup her cheeks. her skin is also piping hot. “you’re so good to me.”

she looks calm on the outside, but on the inside, it’s absolute fucking havoc. her heartbeat hammering against her chest, eyes softening, and her hands reluctantly hovering above yours.

her palms rest on your wrists, and she slowly tilts her head to kiss your fingers, unblinking eyes that are still staring at you. her whisper is faint, anticipatory, and vanilla.

“i love you more, pretty..”

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | oops wrong name

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : accidentally calling them the wrong name for shits and giggles - tiktok trend

୨ৎ : genre : comedy / pranks ୨ৎ : tws : playful banter ୨ৎ : word count : 2305

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was ctfu while writing this LMFAOO i think my bf would KILL ME if i called him the wrong name 😭 the charles gif makes me wanna 😩

ʚ・max verstappen

you were lounging on the hotel bed while max sat at the little desk beside it, tapping something into his phone. his hair was still damp from the post-qualifying shower, messy and sticking up in tufts. the tv was on, but you weren’t watching. not really. you were focused on your plan.

“tom,” you said casually, stretching out across the mattress. “can you pass me my water bottle?”

max didn’t respond at first, too focused on his phone. but then he froze.

his head tilted slowly, like a machine turning to scan a threat.

“sorry, what?”

you glanced at him, innocent. “water, please?”

now he was fully facing you. his eyebrows raised, that signature are you serious look all over his face. “who the fuck is tom?”

you shrugged. “just asked for water.”

“yeah, but you didn’t ask me.” he leaned back in the chair, arms folding. “you asked tom.”

you bit back a laugh. “you’re overreacting.”

“i’m overreacting?” he repeated, tone flat. “you’re lying on our bed calling for 'tom' and i’m overreacting.”

you picked up your phone like you were checking something. “maybe i got the names mixed up. tom, max. could happen to anyone.”

“not unless tom’s been around enough to replace me in your muscle memory.” you glanced at him and saw he was trying really hard to keep his expression unreadable, but his brow was twitching. “seriously...tom?”

“it’s a joke,” you finally said, unable to hold the straight face any longer. “you’ve been pranked.”

max didn’t speak for a moment. then he shook his head, muttering in dutch under his breath.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he said finally, getting up to hand you the water you never really wanted in the first place. “but if i hear that name again, i’m revoking cuddling privileges.”

you grinned. “noted.”

but later that night, just as you drifted off, you whispered, “thanks, tom.”

max shoved a pillow in your face.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you were in the middle of organizing lewis’ growing sunglasses collection in the closet when he walked in, shirtless and relaxed, holding two smoothie bottles. one was your favorite.

“thanks, marcus,” you said sweetly, taking it from his hand.

he stopped mid-step.

“…come again?” he asked, lips parting just slightly.

you didn’t look up. “hmm?”

he blinked. “what did you just call me?”

you sipped your smoothie. “i said thanks. for the smoothie, babe.”

there was a pause. then—

“marcus?” his voice pitched up at the end like he was genuinely trying to figure out whether he heard wrong… or whether he was being cheated on in real time.

you blinked innocently. “huh?”

he slowly put his bottle down. “babe, i don’t want to jump to conclusions, but...who the hell is marcus? is that some guy from soulcycle or something?”

you stifled a laugh and shrugged. “that name jogs my memory...i thin he just brought me a smoothie once at work? very thoughtful.”

lewis crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, eyebrows up. “wow. okay. and what does marcus do? race? rap? make smoothies for girls who forget their boyfriend’s name?”

you bit your lip, holding the laugh deep in your chest.

he looked away, shaking his head, grinning despite himself. “unbelievable. seven world championships and i’m getting marcus’d in my own house.”

you walked over to him slowly, trying to look apologetic. “lewis—”

“no, no. marcus is probably better at opening jars too,” he said, deadpan.

you finally broke, laughing as you wrapped your arms around him. “it’s a prank, babe. from that old trend. there is no marcus.”

he let out a long sigh, dramatically resting his forehead against yours. “you play too much.”

“but you looked so betrayed. it was kind of cute.”

lewis kissed your cheek, then whispered, “you’re lucky you’re adorable.”

as you turned to leave, he added, “but i’m calling you katie all day tomorrow. just for balance.”

ʚ・george russell

it started over breakfast. you were seated at the little table in george’s apartment, scrolling through your phone while he made tea. he was shirtless, hair still a little messy, humming some fleetwood mac song to himself, completely unaware he was about to be mentally ruined before 9 a.m.

“jake, can you pass the oat milk?”

george froze.

you didn’t look up. you scrolled a little more. very nonchalant.

he didn’t say anything at first. he just slowly reached for the oat milk and set it down in front of you — quietly, methodically — then walked around the table and sat across from you with that look.

“who’s jake?” he asked, voice light but suspicious.

you took a sip of your tea. “what?”

“you called me jake.”

“no i didn’t.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you absolutely did.”

you shrugged. “maybe you misheard.”

“i don’t think i did.” he leaned forward, elbows on the table now. “do i know this jake?”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile. “i don't know, probably? that's what you heard right.”

george blinked once, then leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms like he was preparing to take you to court. “does jake have better hair than me?”

you snorted.

“is he taller?” he asked, a little more seriously now.

“george.”

“no, because if jake is over six feet and makes a good cup of tea, i’m leaving.”

that did it — you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drink.

george tilted his head. “wait—oh my god. you’re doing that bloody trend, aren’t you?”

you nodded, face buried in your sleeve as you kept laughing.

he exhaled, rolling his eyes as he picked up his mug. “you’re awful. i nearly had a personal crisis.”

“i noticed,” you said between giggles.

“swear to god, if i ever call you ‘sophie’ and you cry, i’m just gonna say it was balance.”

“who’s sophie?” you blinked.

he gave you a look. “exactly.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was sprawled on the couch, flipping through the channels with one hand and lazily draping the other across your thighs, completely unbothered. it was one of those rare, quiet evenings where neither of you had to be anywhere, the kind that made you feel domestic and soft.

you were curled up at the end of the sofa, scrolling through your phone, when you looked over at him and said, casually, “matteo, can you turn the volume up?”

carlos froze.

the remote paused mid-click. he turned his head, eyes narrowing with laser focus. “what did you say?”

you blinked at him sweetly. “volume, carlos. i can’t hear.”

silence.

then, he sat up slowly — dramatically, even — his hand still hovering in the air like he was physically trying to process what just happened. “who,” he began, “is matteo?”

you shrugged. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” he said, placing the remote down like it offended him, “you just called me matteo. that’s not my name, cariño.”

you bit your lip to hold back the smile. “oh, i must’ve been thinking of someone else.”

carlos leaned forward, one eyebrow raised in complete disbelief. “someone else? so now i am… easily confused with other men?”

you snorted.

“no, no, it’s fine. maybe matteo has better hair than me. maybe matteo owns a vineyard and serenades you with a guitar.”

you lost it at that. but he wasn’t done.

“does matteo also say ‘smooth operator’? or is he a rough operator?” he added, now fully invested in this imaginary rival.

you leaned in, resting your chin on his shoulder, voice soft. “carlos, i was kidding. it’s a trend. i called you the wrong name on purpose.”

he stared at you for a beat, lips pursed. “you’re playing with fire, mi amor.”

“i know,” you grinned. “but matteo would’ve let it slide.”

carlos lunged at you with a laugh, wrestling you into his chest. “then go be with matteo! but first, tell him i’m coming for him.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

you were doing your makeup at the vanity in your shared monaco apartment when charles wandered in, fresh from his shower, towel around his waist, hair a fluffy disaster. he looked at you through the mirror, all sleepy eyes and boyish charm.

“lucas, can you hand me my lip liner?” you asked offhandedly, still focused on your face.

you heard the towel drop.

not in the hot, sexy way.

in the he's shocked and spiraling way.

“lucas?” he echoed, voice higher than you’ve ever heard it. “who the hell is lucas?!”

you turned slowly, biting your lip to hide the smile. “what?”

he stared at you like you’d just run him over with a ferrari. “you just called me lucas.”

you shrugged. “did i?”

“YES,” he said, wildly gesturing. “you didn’t even hesitate. you were so confident—like it was natural! like you say it all the time!”

you turned back to the mirror, calmly applying mascara. “you’re overreacting.”

charles dropped onto the bed like he’d been mortally wounded. “lucas. mon dieu. that sounds like someone who wears boat shoes with no socks.”

you bit your lip harder.

“is he french?” charles asked, sitting up. “or worse… italian?”

“it was just a mistake, love.” you said airily, brushing your cheeks.

charles stood, eyes wide. “mistake?! i literally brought you pain au chocolat this morning and kissed your forehead like some guy in a rom-com!”

you finally broke, letting out a full laugh. “charles—”

“no, no, no. this is worse than the monaco curse. lucas. i can’t believe i lost you to someone named lucas!”

you got up and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his dramatically tense shoulders. “babe. it’s a tiktok prank. i made it up.”

he blinked. “so… there is no lucas?”

you grinned. “no lucas.”

he exhaled. “good. because if there was, i’d have to challenge him to a karting race. or maybe just cry.”

you kissed his cheek. “you’re so dramatic.”

he whispered, offended. “it’s my birthright.”

ʚ・lando norris

you and lando were chilling on the couch, deep into a gaming session. or, more accurately, lando was gaming and you were curled up next to him, offering the occasional sarcastic comment and stealing his snacks.

he was laser-focused, headset on, tongue poking out a little as he tried to win some online match.

you waited for the perfect moment, just as he landed a kill and started celebrating.

“nice job, ethan,” you said sweetly, clapping once.

lando froze.

like… absolutely no movement. not in his hands, not in his mouth, not even a breath.

then, very slowly, he turned to look at you. headset slightly askew. brow furrowed.

“did you just call me ethan?”

you blinked. “hmm?”

“hmm?” he repeated, his voice cracking halfway through. “who the fuck is ethan?!”

you shrugged. “just… ethan.”

lando set the controller down like it was made of glass. “is he one of your gym guys? does he have better curls than me? wait, is ethan taller than me?!”

you laughed under your breath. “does it matter?”

“of course it matters!” he cried, fully spinning to face you now, hands on his hips. “you can’t just ethan me and then expect me to cope. i’m not built for this emotionally.”

you fought so hard not to crack. “just someone i know very lightly at the gym, he's a big motivator.”

“oh my god,” lando said, flopping backwards like he’d been shot. “i’m being replaced by a walking affirmation board.”

you finally broke, snorting as you leaned over him. “lando. baby. it’s a prank.”

he peeked up at you. “no ethan?”

“well..." you pause, "just kidding, of course there's no ethan."

he exhaled dramatically. “okay. good. because i was two seconds away from dming every ethan on your follower list and challenging them to a race.”

“you can’t race them all.”

he grinned, eyes gleaming. “watch me.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

it was a quiet sunday morning, the kind that begged for soft sheets, slow cuddles, and no alarm clocks. you were both curled up in bed, tangled under the duvet, with the curtains barely cracked to let the light in.

oscar was scrolling through something on his phone, his head resting against your shoulder, calm and cozy.

you stretched lazily, then nudged his thigh. “asher, can you hand me my water?”

he blinked.

paused.

then, with terrifying composure: “sorry, who?”

you yawned. “water, please. it’s by your side, osc.”

he slowly turned to look at you, expression blank, voice deadly even. “you just called me asher.”

“did i?”

“you definitely did.”

you shrugged, pretending not to notice the sharp turn in atmosphere. “just slipped out.”

oscar sat up a little straighter. “do we know an asher? is there an asher in the paddock? because i swear i don’t know an asher.”

you casually rolled over to the other side of the bed. “he’s someone from uni... no one special just someone i talk to during class for a little laugh.”

oscar scoffed, tone still flat but deeply offended. “he sounds like a real crowd favorite. must be hard, competing with asher and his sunshine energy.”

you were fighting so hard not to laugh, clutching the duvet to your face.

he wasn’t done. “tell me—does asher also give you the inside line into turn 3 at silverstone? does he organize your sock drawer? does he know your coffee order by heart?!”

you burst out laughing.

oscar narrowed his eyes. “you’re pranking me.”

you wheezed, nodding. “i couldn’t keep it going, you looked like you were going to call asher’s imaginary mother and file a complaint.”

oscar leaned back, smug smile on his face. “good. because i was five seconds away from changing your contact name to ashtray and never explaining why.”

you grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist. “no asher. just you.”

he kissed your forehead, muttering, “i don’t trust pranks. but i trust revenge.”

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