#꒰ ִ ֺ �� 3k celly ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱

[httpsserene]

first off, CONGRATS ON 3k!!!! I’m so proud of you!!!! I have a couple requests pls don’t think you have to do all of them. My first one is from the kink list rating and it’s Daniel Ric, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Oscah Pastry, and Franco Colapnto with the orgasm control kink :)

#3k vday celly

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. tysm for the love ash !!! would've liked this to be out on monday but my flu has made me incredibly delusional :) anyways, you already know i'm going to do all of your requests ;p

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!bipoc!reader x mv. 1 | dr. 3 | cl. 16 | fc. 43 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

explicit language. oral and vaginal sex. light bdsm & d/s dynamics. the mildest blasphemous phrase used at the end of charles' blurb.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Oscar knows that his quiet, polite, and kind personality tricked you into thinking he’d behave similarly in bed. It surprises him too; his desire—his ego, truthfully—growing uncharacteristically insatiable as he watches you sob and beg for a release you know he’s not going to allow. Is it the way your expression twists in frustration when he intentionally keeps his well-practiced fingers away from your clit? Is it the way your body trembles in mourning of the little death that disappears when he pulls his mouth away from devouring your pussy to paint the bronze skin of your inner thighs with the imprint of his teeth? He doesn’t know if it heightens his satisfaction, or if it becomes the entirety of his satisfaction. It matters little to him, he thinks, as he forcefully thrusts into you to feel your desperate walls squeeze and flutter tightly around him, to hear your gasping moans transform into needy whimpers. He pulls out on the precipice of your shared peak, and his guttural moan drowns out your shattered wail as he deprives you both. His dick throbs sharply as it bobs against his abdomen, a dribble of precum jutting from the slit against his sweat-slicked, pink-flushed skin. He continues to ignore the aching of his cock, leaning down to murmur his apology against your lips while he brushes away your tears with gentle thumbs. Oscar is genuinely apologetic for denying you in such a cruel manner, but he’s going to do it a couple more times before he lets either of you cum.

You’ve turned Charles into a masochist. When you made him suffer through a thirty-minute blowjob and didn’t let him cum until he almost hyperventilated—he thought it was a one-time thing. Two weeks after that, you woke him up with a handjob, releasing him as soon as his muscles started jumping, an obvious sign that he was nearing his climax, ignoring his brain screaming, “that’s hot.” He reached down, attempting to finish the job, but you slapped his hand away, tutting disapprovingly and telling him that you decide when he gets off. He nervously giggled the statement aside at first, thinking you were joking. In hindsight, he’s delighted to know that you were serious. He doesn’t know how long you’ve had his hands tied behind the back of the desk chair you pushed him down on, nor can he remember how many times you’ve brought him close to the edge before ripping it away. If it were up to him to choose when he gets to cum, he’d make himself wait until morning. But, it’s your decision. And, you remind him just how cruel you can be when you overwhelmingly focus your attention on the head of his cock, rapidly working him toward completion. You pull away at the last moment and through blurry eyes he sees your smile widening as the streaks of his spend shoot across his chest, the orgasm simultaneously unsatisfying and substance-less—he loves it. Charles chokes on his breath as he pleads for you to give him a real orgasm, his dick still erect and pulsating, begging you for more. He cries when you inform him that he doesn’t get to cum for another three days. He can’t suppress the desperation that starts to tingle at the base of his skull—but God, does it feel heavenly.

Daniel is aware that he plays too much, and you’ve told him so multiple times. He’s a jokester, his personality light-hearted and bright, always searching for opportunities to make you laugh. It seems like those traits were slightly mistranslated when it comes to how he acts in bed. He’s an unrelenting tease, his grin sharper and wider as he dangles your climax in front of you like a carrot tied to a stick. Something about watching you realize that he controls your pleasure is immensely gratifying. It helps that he knows you’re only pretending to hate when he edges you; you can’t hide how the dripping wetness of your cunt has stained his mouth with your flavor and how the dregs of anything he couldn’t greedily swallow puddled on the bed sheets beneath your ass. That doesn’t mean he likes it when you flip the script on him. He can admit that he finds it hot as hell when you use him for your satisfaction, but he thought he was having a stroke the first time you got yourself off by riding him and leaving him high and dry. Admittedly, he does understand that it made the handjob you gave him (not even five minutes later, by the way) exponentially better, but damn. You didn’t have to give him a taste of his own medicine if you wanted to retaliate against his endless teasing. Daniel’s fine with you occasionally edging him if he eventually gets to cum during one of the rounds you have; however, don’t even think about leaving him with blue balls for more than a few hours. He’s a sensitive man at his core—you’ll make him cry. You don’t want that, do you?

Max is certain that his purpose on Earth is to drive fast and to fulfill all of your intimate needs (sexual or not).  So, when you suggested trying out orgasm control, he agreed to give it a chance for you. And, to put it bluntly, he doesn’t get it. He’d rather have you screaming, sobbing, and shaking under him because he’s pushed you to the point of overstimulation from making you cum too many times and not too few times. He’s driven to satisfy you; he’s not motivated by torturing you with denial, he wants to hear you slur your words as you beg for him to give you a break when he’s fucked out the feeling from your legs and all rational thought out of your head. However, that doesn’t mean he has the same opinion when you’ve been acting bratty; edging you until you remember your manners sounds like the perfect punishment, in that case. Thankfully, he puts quite a lot of work in to make sure you don’t have the opportunity to be a brat—he happily spends most of his time pampering and treating you like a princess. If you really wanted Max to edge you or ruin your orgasms, he’d do it—but, personally, he thinks overwhelming you with pleasure is much more enjoyable for both you and him. He’s a service dom, not a monster.

Yeah, Franco is going to need you to leave your bullshit at the door. It makes absolutely zero sense to him; why should he waste his time holding back one orgasm when he can at least do it twice? Three times, if he’s horny enough. Four times, if you’re going to keep making eye contact with him. You get the point. It’s an insult when you really think about it: are you trying to say that he’s not capable of making you climax multiple times? Is that a challenge? That’s fine, he’ll prove it to you. The first round will be in the car, then against the front door, then on the kitchen island, then on the dining room table, then against the living room windows—fuck it, he’d find a way to fuck you on the ceiling. Franco’s young, he has the libido and stamina for multiple rounds of varying lengths. There’s no need to force each other to last longer when he has a battery in his back like The Energizer Bunny. It would seriously piss him off if you tried to kick him away from between your legs as he was about to make you cum on his tongue. He will sit up and cuss you out for it, but not for long—he has to return to finish his meal that you so rudely interrupted him from right as he was going to lick the plate clean.

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[httpiastri]

hiii! i would like a ❣️ but with voicemails from the drivers hinting that they like you? we have mostly the same favorite drivers so just write for whoever you think would be good 😌

❣️ – send me a prompt and one/a few drivers and i'll tell you how i think they would react!!

(featuring: lando, charles, alex, oscar, ollie, paul, arthur, pepe and clem)

lando norris

"i think you should come visit me in monaco more. you know that the bed in my guest room is always made for you. and i put on those sheets i know you like, and i have those fragrance sticks with the rose scent, you said you liked them last time you visited me. well, i mean, my room and my bed is always ready for you, too. and i'll be in it, so… *chuckle* my mind just keeps wandering off to when you were here a few nights ago, and… i think… honestly? i think you should move in with me. okay, that sounds crazy and impulsive and like i haven't thought this through, but i really have given it a lot of thought. i want you to move in here. don't worry about the expenses, i can take care of it all. and a moving truck to get your stuff, i'll pay for it. just… think about it, will you? don't just laugh it off. i'm serious about this."

charles leclerc

"i just got back to the apartment, and it's... so quiet without you here. i keep thinking about the last time we made dinner together and how you laughed so hard at my terrible cooking that the neighbors came over to complain. i'm still scared of meeting them in the stairwell. maybe next time, you should be the one to take charge and show me how it's done? save me from another disaster? or we could go out, whichever you prefer. i just really want to see you again. and not die from food poisoning."

alex albon

"the other day, you mentioned not having a necklace that fit the new top you bought. and for some reason, i just happened to find myself right outside a jewelry store today. so i went in and bought you something. the lady in the cash register told me that a longer chain with a pendant would fit a v-neck top best, so that's what i got. it's gold, of course, i wouldn't dare buy you anything silver after you lectured me about having a warm skin tone for half an hour... i don't know, i just wanted to tell you this so you don't run around stressing about having to buy a new necklace. i can drop by yours with it if you want me to. or if you want to wear the top tonight, i'll give it to you when i pick you up."

oscar piastri

"hey, i just wanted to check in with you, make sure you're okay. are you? *pause*. what he said tonight, that was... it wasn't right. you don't deserve that. he was wrong, he has no idea what he's talking about. please, call me when you get this."

ollie bearman

"can i come straight to yours from the airport? you don't have to hug me before i shower, i might be full of flight germs, but... i just want to see you. and i'm pretty sure i forgot my favorite sweater at your place last time i went to visit you. you know, the blue one?... i think you know. not that i want it back, you can keep it if you like it. i know you look cute in it... that's beside the point. i'll tell the taxi driver your address, let me know if you don't want me coming over. see you soon."

paul aron

"some kids are building a snow fort down the street. you know, in the park where we had that picnic last summer? one of them has slipped and fallen right onto his butt about ten times now, it's hilarious. i wish you were here to see it, you would've laughed your ass off. *pause*. wish you were here for other reasons, too. but... just one more week, right?"

arthur leclerc

"i may have had a bit too much wine but i needed to call you and tell you what i just realized. you have the prettiest eyes in the world. they are gorgeous. i want to trade eyes, if i have your eyes then i would be able to get any girl – but i still only have eyes for you. haha, get it? because they're your eyes? *pause*. why are you not answering? did you hang up on me? oh, is this voicemail? did you not think i was important enough to pick up the call? even at three in the morning, you should only think about me."

pepe marti

"i know i said i was going to call you tomorrow, but i just realized. i forgot to tell you something. sebastian is throwing a party this weekend- i think it's more of a housewarming-gathering-thing, and i wasn't really feeling like going, but... i would love to introduce you to some of my friends. they're all really nice, i promise you, and if you ever feel even slightly bad, we can leave instantly. i just want to show you off, i guess? everyone would be so jealous- i didn't mean it like that, i made it sound like- i'm sorry. just please, come with me. it would mean the world to me."

clement novalak

"i went by that bookshop i know you like. the cute little one near the subway station, right by the park? and i... i had some time to spare, so i went in. just to look around at first, but then i wanted to ask the woman who works there if they have that book you were talking about. but i just couldn't remember the name of it, so i tried to explain it to her based on what you told me weeks ago, but i was just rambling... but i think she managed to find the right one. hopefully. and when we went to pay, she asked if she should wrap it and i said 'sure', but when she asked who it was to, i froze... so the wrapping has little hearts on it, i hope that's okay. i'll see you tonight, right? can't wait."

[disneyprincemuke]

driver’s parade * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: HEHEHEHEHEHE

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“hey, florida man!” you call out, jogging to catch up to the taller man ahead of you. “heading to the driver’s parade?”

“aren’t we all?” logan answers, turning around to glance at you. “hi.”

“hi,” you greet back with a proud smile. lunch had gone great with alex and george the day prior. though, it was still a little awkward from the obvious disconnect between you and the american driver.

he was slightly more withdrawn and only talked to alex and george when he needed to. he only ever spoke to you when you spoke to him. alas, you are still very committed to make a best friend out of the younger man.

admittedly, his tendency to be quiet and a little shy is very reminiscent of when you attempted to make a friend out of lewis a couple of years ago. and kimi, when he was still around.

though, kimi was a lot different from lewis and logan. he still had his moments.

“how’d you enjoy your first race weekend?” you ask, glancing at him as you take a sip from your water bottle. “have fun?”

“it’s okay so far,” he shrugs, dropping his head slightly. “have you seen alex anywhere?”

“you don’t like hanging out with me?” you frown jokingly. a smile stretches your lips when his head shoots up, eyes wide as strings of apologies start to spew from his lips.

“no, i didn’t mean it like that. i’m sorry. it’s just-“

“i’m kidding!” you laugh, patting his shoulder. “i’ve only seen you with alex anyway, so it’s probably just a preference.” you turn and scan the pitlane, lips pressed together. “he should be around here with george.”

“how come you aren’t with them?” logan hums hesitantly, glancing at you shyly with his hands in his pockets. “i always saw you guys together last year.”

you laugh. you’re typically sighted with george and alex by default: george is your teammate and alex is his best friend. it’s just a natural thought that george and alex come together as a package deal to you.

“yeah, but i try not to intrude when they’re out dating,” you wave off his concerns, “makes me feel like a third wheel.”

“they do kinda have that effect, don’t they,” logan mutters, shaking his head. “so, um…”

“oi, you’re late!” you look ahead, finding your teammate with his hands on his hips. behind him in the truck that’s supposed to take everyone around the track collectively. “come on, we’re waiting for you guys! and max. where is max? have you seen max?”

“why are you asking us like we’ve seen him?” you scoff, watching george hop onto the back effortlessly. “i haven’t seen him. ask checo.”

“you don’t suppose he’s ditching,” george whispers, bewildered at the though.

“is he allowed to do that?” logan asks softly, glancing at you.

“no, but he’s max,” you point out. you rest your water bottle on the surface of the truck and hold your arm up to george. “he can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“yeah, we’ve stopped asking questions,” george giggles. he grabs your extended arm, yanking you up easily to the elevated surface of the truck.

somehow, in the past year of being teammates, you and george have perfected the art of lifting you onto the back of the truck effortlessly.

you pick up your water bottle before you turn around to face logan. you extend a helping hand towards him and smile. “come on.”

george watches you with his eyebrows furrowed, also yanking the rookie up to stand between you. “aw, that’s kinda sweet,” george teases as logan walks past them after alex calls for him to walk further in. “you reckon you guys are friends now?”

you huff, shaking your arms. “he’s a tough nut to crack. he’s very shy.”

“now you know what it’s like trying to be your friend.”

[vhagarlovebot]

FOLKLORE. send me a prompt/kink/scenario and a character, and i will write you a drabble/blurb.

fake dating with tom bennett? congrats on 3k!!

ONLY ONES WHO KNOW.

pairing: tom bennett x fem!reader.

summary: when you hear news about your mother finding you a husband, you seek comfort in the last person you thought could help you: tom bennett. to your surprise, things take a turn you weren’t expecting.

content warnings: fake dating, flirting, kissing, confessions, just pure fluff.

note: i suck with period dialogues so don’t expect this to have that kind of writing, sorry. if there are any mistakes i apologize but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

JUST HOLD MY HAND.” you say through gritted teeth, smile plastered on your face, trying not to show how stressed you really are,

“that’s exactly what i’m doing!” tom says, rolling his eyes and looking around even more stressed than you.

tom straightens his tie, his sweaty hand holding yours like his life depends on it.

“if you don’t stay still i swear to god i’m go—” you shut up when you see your mother across de room. “she is here, are you ready?”

he smiles, the first honest smile you’ve seen in the entire night. “i was born ready, love.” tom winks at you and you immediately blush.

looking away you try to calm yourself and remember the reason why you’re doing this. it is definitely going to piss off your mother, she’s never liked tom, and you will also get her off your back.

“remember,” you say as you make your way to her. “be polite and don’t make any witty comments, please.”

“don’t worry.” he wears his singular smirk, the one that makes you weak in the knees, and you force yourself to look straight ahead. but he notices and chuckles, leaning a little bit closer to leave a kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your back. “m goin’ to be the perfect boyfriend.”

“fake boyfriend.” you emphasize, squeezing his hand as you get closer to the woman. she’s talking with a couple of friends, glass of champagne in hand, but her gaze is on you. your mother is smiling but you know her blood is boiling under that facade.

“still the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.” he mocks you.

you know he’s just teasing you and wants you to react; that’s how tom bennett is, and it’s not the place to start arguing with him, even though you like to rile him up.

“your precious daughter is here!” one of your mother’s old time friend says. she’s wearing a big black hat while one of her hand has glass of champagne and the other a cigarette. only when she leans to kiss you on the cheeks, she notices tom. “and who is this handsome man?”

you make eye contact with your mother and you can see clearly in her eyes how she begs you not to say anything. you hesitate for a second but tom clears his throat and offers his hand.

“the boyfriend, ma’am.”

the gasps are way too dramatic but exactly the reaction you were expecting. however, your mother doesn’t react at all, there’s not a single change in her expression.

“oh, yes!” she finally says, leaving her glass at the table behind her. the fake smile she has reserved for this kind of events makes you nauseous. “we thought it would be a great idea to tell the news today… you know how my daughter loves to be the center of attention.”

tom caresses your hand with his thumb. his jaw is tense and you know he’s probably biting his tongue to not say anything.

“yes!” after a few moments you finally react, you will not let her win, it does not matter how much she pushes. “i really wanted to show him off.” you giggle, and tom plays his part too. he lets go of your hand and pulls you close by the waist while you rest your hand on his chest.

“what a beautiful pair you two are!” another woman says and you can’t believe how fake all these people are.

“enjoy the party.” you smile back at them, taking tom’s hand once again.

“i’ll join you.” your mother says, excusing herself with the group of people surrounding her.

you scoff, rolling your eyes when you turn away. you wish she would’ve stayed with them but she follows you to the garden.

“what are you doing?” she whispers, taking your arm with all the strength she has. and it hurts.

“i don’t know what you’re talk—”

“don’t take me for a fool, child.” a couple walks past you and she lets you go, at what tom immediately moves to stand between her and you, making sure she doesn’t put her hands on you again. “you want to embarrass me? is that what you’re trying to accomplish?”

“not everything revolves around you.” you fight back, the way she acts makes you want to cry. and you think tom notices that because he caresses your back without your mother noticing. “you didn’t think about asking me before trying to send me off to marry some old man?”

your mother’s gaze finds tom and the way she rolls her eyes reminds you of a child throwing a tantrum.

“this will not last.” she breathes through gritted teeth, scowling up at him.

“being mad doesn’t suits you,” you smile, scrunching up your nose. “it makes you look older.” rasing your index finger you caress the point between your eyebrows to show her exactly where her lines of expression are more noticeable.

she sighs, like giving up. but you know that’s not your mother, she may forget all about it tonight just for the sake of her perfect party. “we are going to have a long conversation tomorrow.” then, she turns around and walks away with a broken ego.

“that was scary.” tom says after a long period of silence. you sit on a concrete bench and sigh, already tired of the lie. “i like it.” he laughs and sits beside you. but when you look at him you can’t help but laugh too, pushing him by the chest playfully.

“do you think she believed us?” you ask, playing with your dress. tom reaches for your hand, giving it a little squeeze to make you look at him. when you do, he has a reassuring smile dancing on his lips.

“i do.” he looks inside the house and sees your mother right in his line of vision, keeping an eye on you. “but we have the whole night to keep pretending.”

“i’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

you really are sorry for going to him with your problems because you’re not even friends. you are friends with his sister and you know her well, but with tom is different. all your conversations always end with him flirting with you, although that doesn’t surprises you at all because he is like that with every girl in town. all your friends have fallen for him. and, even if you will never say it out loud, you won’t deny you find him quite easy to the eye or that he makes your heart beat faster every time he’s around.

you went to his house to seek advise from his sister but she wasn’t there, and you were so upset that when he asked you what happened you blurted everything out. after he made fun of your meaningless problems, he really felt pity so you started talking, and you talked for hours. so much that you ended up asking him for help. the last man you thought would ever want to help you.

“i had nothing better to do.” he shrugs, leaning against the back of the bench. “besides, i like to piss off moms.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “well, i’m still sorry.”

tom sits upright, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, and leans towards you. “there’s something you could do,” he speaks softly as if sharing a secret. “a kiss will make it better.”

“you’re disgusting.” you move away, all the blood from your body going straight to your face.

“even if your mother is looking at us right now?” he says, his eyes fixed on the entrance behind you where your mother is nowhere to be seen.

“she is?!” you ask, surprised.

“don’t look! we don’t want to look suspicious, do we?”

for a moment you think about it. you want her to believe that you and tom are in a relationship. and the last thing you want is for her to suspect and start questioning you.

that thought is what drives you to find balance in tom’s shoulders as your lips collide against his.

his lips aren’t as soft as you though they were going to be but they still make your heart beat faster and your body tickle. it’s definitely not the first time you are kissing a boy but it is the first time you feel something.

your friends always told you when you kiss a boy you see fireworks and all the butterflies of the world in your belly, but you don’t feel anything like that. you feel calm—even though your heart beats like crazy in your chest—and little stars behind your eyes. you like what you feel.

tom cups your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and the loud music and people chatting become a light thrum in the background.

it flows naturally, like you were supposed to do it in the first place. it’s a slow and gentle kiss, he leaves his hands on your face to make you feel comfortable and it’s not what you were expecting when you dreamed about kissing tom bennett. you expected him to be smug and get carried away, to feel his hands pressing you against his body. you wouldn’t have minded if that was the case but you like how he keeps you close with a softness you didn’t know tom had in him, like you’re going to break if he tries something more.

after a couple of minutes that feel like hours, tom pulls away and you, instinctively, chase after his lips making him laugh lightly at you.

you feel overwhelmed and dizzy, his lips leaving yours with a tickling sensation as you try to breathe properly again and find the words lost in your mind.

tom doesn’t make fun of you or says something witty to ease the tension like he always does, he just looks at you with his bright blue eyes and waits for you to take the next move; it doesn’t matter to him what is going to be, he will take whatever it is.

“is she still… looking at us?” you still feel like flying after what you experienced and it’s really the only thought coming to you.

he chuckles and shakes his head but still looks behind you, there are people looking at you and they’ll surely tell your mother, but she’s nowhere to be seen. it is then that tom decides to be honest for the first time in his life.

“well,” he begins to say, and you immediately notice he is nervous. there are a few things you’ve learned about tom bennett from all the years you’ve been friends with his sister. his hand running though his hair and the tip of his tongue poking out from the corner of his lips when he’s about to either lie or say the truth is one of those things. “she wasn’t looking. i just wanted to kiss you.”

the way your face heats up makes him smile, which only makes you even more flustered. that confession of his is something you weren’t expecting, but at the same time you know the reputation tom bennett has with the ladies around town.

“do you think of me as another one of your conquests?” you ask him, gaze fixed on the patterns of your dress.

“you think so badly of me?” with his thumb he lifts your chin up but you refuse to look him in the eyes, too flustered still and shy of being so open with him. “don’t you think i have other things to do than just sit all the afternoon in the living room listening to you and my sister gossip while drinking tea?”

his words are enough to make you raise your head and, finally, look at him. the moonlight accentuates the sharp features of his face, giving him almost an angelic look.

“i agreed to do this because not only i don’t want you marrying some old french man.” his hand find yours, fingers playing with your own like two kids too nervous to hold hands. “but because i don’t want you to marry someone else at all.”

if his previous confession surprised you, this one makes your heart stop beating. you look at him trying to find the joke, a part of you expecting him to burst out laughing at any time. but one minute passes, and then another, and he keeps looking at you with all the patience in the world, not rushing you, not pushing you into anything; just giving you all the time you need to absorb all the information he threw you in the face.

do you like him? do you feel the same way? you have to admit you find him rather handsome. his blonde hair, puffy lips and blue eyes have appeared in your dreams more times than you can count. you’ve also find yourself daydreaming as you watch him across the room, sitting in the armchair smoking as his sister tells you the new gossips you don’t hear because you are too lost in your mind. you always listen attentively to everything he has to say, mesmerized by the way he expressed his beliefs, how despite showing to everyone that facade of ‘i don’t care about anything’ deep down he really cares. a lot. but he only lets it show with the people he trust the most. and recently you’ve noticed that you are one of those people. you enjoy his company and anecdotes, you make sure to stay at his house way past your curfew so he can walk you home and you can listen to his jokes and laugh at them, and talk and brush your hands and feel your whole body tickling by the proximity neither one of you dares to close.

do you feel the same way about him? in all honesty, you never considered it because you never really thought tom would feel something for you. you thought he just saw you as his sister’s rich and annoying friend who spent way too much time at his house, so he had no other choice but to put up with you and, in the end, he just ended up liking how nice and friendly you really are. you never thought he would see you as something more—as a woman.

you never thought about it until this very moment where he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world, like you’re the sun and the stars and the most precious of all gems.

and just like that you don’t even have to think about it.

“oh my mother is going to be so pissed off.” that’s all he needs as a confirmation to crash his lips against yours. this time he’s not gentle but it doesn’t matter, because you pour all your feelings into that searing kiss. a kiss that leaves no doubt that you are both finally alive.

[ilyasorokinn]

taylor's tumblr-versary / 3k celly!

hello! this is my big grand writing return to this silly app! i missed my 3k celly, so we’re just gonna mash it together with my tumblr-versary.

it’s crazy to think that there are so many of you and to think i’ve been on here since 2020. i think i’ve been on here for longer, but i posted my first fic on october 10, 2020.

i love you all so much and i appreciate literally every single one of you, even the bots that i wasn't able to block. i love you all and literally can't believe i'm celebrating another milestone!

guidelines/rules:

please be kind when requesting anything. i am just one person so please just be kind.

when requesting blurbs or edits, please only pick people from these lists! (a, b, c, d)those are the lists i've created with people i feel comfortable writing for (hockey, f1, characters, etc).

for edits, the same rules apply (please only request from lists a-d), but please also make sure it’s within these guidelines.

i have the right to not answer anything if it makes me uncomfortable.

don't be weird.

sorokin - blurbs send in "sorokin", and follow the rules above, and i'll write a little blurb.

crosby - edits send in "crosby", and follow the rules above, and i'll make you a fake ig edit.

farabee - mini playlists send in "farabee", and i'll make you a little mini playlist.

jost - player opinions send in "jost" and a player, and i'll give you my opinion.

pettersson - kiss, marry, kill send in "pettersson" and three players, and i'll tell you who i'd kiss, marry, and kill.

svechnikov - ask me anything send in "svechnikov" and ask me anything. nothing is off limits.

some besties: @2manytabsopen @typical-simplelove @comphyjost @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @senditcolton @rosesvioletshardy @iwantahockeyhimbo @ghostyjosty @nylwnder @sydnikov @tonyspep @lam-ila @harlowhockeystick @bitchinbarzal @alextturcotte @smileysvech @lucasraymonds @thewintersoldierdisaster @kolsmikaelson @boqvistsbabe (i'm sorry if i forgot you i really have no been on here in a long time)

requests will close october 20th!

[old-lorarri]

─ miss americana & the heartbreak prince . . . ❨ send me a driver + and a prompt (example: charles + summer vacation) and I'll make a mood board for it. ❩

i’m running on two hours of sleep and meant to send those last two requests as this prompt 😭, but LOVED the playlists anyway! if you rlly don’t mind i’ll ask for this with oscar piastri & marrying young/eloping! ty sweet lola

MARRYING YOUNG ─ OSCAR PIASTRI

[ervotica]

3k babeyyy!!! ily all so much <3

[nateslehky]

nights like this

nathan mackinnon // mikko rantanen

3.6 k, pwp, getting together, friends to lovers

In all of the times Mikko imagined scoring his fiftieth goal of the season, he never considered how much of his brain and body would be consumed by Nate in its aftermath.

read on ao3

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

german short rows, please. i love to learn, I learn the most random things and then i learn things i will actually need. I'll read two chapters in a history book on ww2 then I'll fall down a rabbit hole about toilet paper (true story btw)

oh yeah, super relatable ping ponging between random subjects like that. I cannot tell you how many sleepless nights I've filled with falling into a weird knowledge hole.

I mean, it's gotta be Spencer. the wide array of random knowledge that boy has is wild and you two would be wild together.

[httpsserene]

hi! could i please have #5 and #33 from the established relationship prompt list with Oscar? would be fun to read him learn a curly hair routine and/or style it! 🤍

#3k vday celly

🛞 tread’s uneven: time for a tire rotation! — send me a driver and a prompt from this list of pre-relationship prompts, or these established relationship prompts, or these hurt/comfort prompts, and i’ll write a blurb or drabble for you xxx (prompt lists are made by me!)

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. hi love! this fits my observant!oscar hc so well. i really loved writing this one :) hope u enjoy x

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

#5. learning how to do your hair. #33. becoming your shadow and following you around the entire day. fem!black!reader x oscar piastri

You came to terms with Oscar following you around like a duckling when he asked if he could keep you company during your bath.

You assumed this meant that he would join you in the bathtub, but you could only blink in bewilderment as he lowered himself to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the bath mat and asked to hold your hand.

The Australian draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, sitting quietly while you soak in the bath, busying himself with reading the ingredients list on your shampoo bottle. Your heart twists at how painfully cute his clingy behavior has been today, unable to stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He makes a soft noise of confusion before brushing his lips against your joined hands in reciprocation.

Muffling a scream in your chest at how adorable he’s being, you focus on your current dilemma. How are you supposed to detangle your hair with one hand?

“Baby,” you speak softly, “I’m going to need my hand back to comb my hair in a couple minutes.”

“Can I do it?” Oscar asks. 

It’s not like you were going to say no to the opportunity of having somebody else deal with detangling your curls, but seeing the genuine glee that sparked in his brown eyes at the chance to perform an act of service was more than enough to get you to agree.

As you divide your hair into manageable sections, you explain the proper way to detangle your hair. It’s necessary for him to keep your hair as wet as possible and to lather each section with a healthy amount of your detangling conditioner. He smoothly gets into the rhythm of gently separating the clumps of your curls with his fingers before gently teasing the knots out from bottom to top with the wide tooth comb. 

Oscar’s so careful of the strength he applies that the detangling process feels like a scalp massage, the pain you usually feel when another person works on your tender-headed scalp is nowhere to be found. The two of you are wrapped in comfortable silence as he works through each section, the only sounds being the comb running through your curls and the ripples of the bath water when you shift in the tub.

“All done,” he murmurs, and you wish that it would’ve taken him longer. 

Without being told, Oscar stands to grab the detachable shower head, turning it on to a comfortable temperature before moving to rinse out the conditioner. Shivers run down your spine at the water running over your scalp and you can’t help the audible sigh of pleasure that slips from your lips.

“What’s next?” He asks as he scrunches the excess water out, the two words are all you need to hear to know that’s how he’s signed away the rest of his afternoon to learn your curly hair routine.

Out of the bath, dried-off, lotioned, and clothed, you have Oscar carry all of the necessary hair products into the bedroom. You direct him to sit in front of the floor length mirror with you, your towel wrapped around your shoulders to prevent any product stains on your shirt. 

He huffs in offense when you start to tell him the order the products are applied in, “I watch you do your hair all the time—of course, I know what order they go in.”

It’s really your fault that you assumed he didn’t, he’s the most observant person you know. He works the lightweight cream through your curls in small parts, randomly getting distracted every now and then by pulling a coil to its straightened length and watching it bounce back. He rakes the styling jelly in, following your direction to twirl any unruly strands of hair around his finger to guide them back into their pattern, commenting about how stubborn some pieces of hair are. Oscar learns that some strands are going to lay wherever they want to when he finishes scrunching the holding foam into the ends. 

You laugh, “Be glad I didn’t make you finger curl each separate strand. Doing that really makes me wish I had somebody else doing my hair for me all the time.”

He wipes his hands with the corner of the towel, humming understandingly. “I know I’m not around on every wash day, but when I am—I’d love it if you allowed me to do your hair for you.”

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest.

[httpiastri]

❣️ what pet names would ollie, paul, pepe, clem, liam, arthur and dennis call you? (not sure if this is the right way to request, ignore it if i’m wrong)

❣️ – send me a prompt and one/a few drivers and i'll tell you how i think they would react!!

ollie bearman

oh i totally see him calling you love in his silly british accent. especially when apologizing for something ("i'm sorry for being away for so long, love") or when asking for a favor ("love, could you pass the salt?"). just in general when he's being soft and romantic, to be honest. it just rolls off his tongue so easily, before he can even stop himself, and you always giggle at the fact that it sounds more like luv than how it's actually spelled. he's too british for his own good. i also believe he calls you honey, but more often just hun because it's quicker yet still has the same level of adoration behind it.

paul aron

i've seen people on here say he would call his gf kallis and i think that's adorable. like yk how he still lives in estonia and probably speaks estonian most of his time, so it would be so natural for that pet name to slip out of him. in english, though, i think he would like to go for something along the lines of my sweet or my dear. especially when hugging you or cuddling you, holding you close and whispering "you did so well, my sweet". he loves to add "my" as a reminder that you're his and no one else's.

pepe marti

call it cliche but he would totally go for mi amor. i imagine him coming home after a race weekend, when you're welcoming him home in the hallway with a big hug, and pepe kisses the top of your head with a whisper of "i missed you so much, mi amor". corazón could also be one, but i think he would love cariño, and he thinks it's so cute that he just finds himself smiling every time he says it to you.

clement novalak

mon trésor. he said it once, just to be funny and cheesy, but don't think he didn't notice the way your breath hitched in your throat when the words left his mouth. he doesn't speak his mother tongue often, so hearing him use it just for you? it sweeps you right off your feet. he also loves to go for a good old babe, it makes him feel really cool. especially in front of his friends lol.

liam lawson

darling. no doubt. it originates in the way that his mother used to call him by that pet name and something about it is just so dear to him. i also see him calling you idiot in an endearing way, like if you do something stupid he will just hug you tightly as he laughs, face nuzzled into your hair as he tells you about how you're "you silly little idiot... my silly little idiot".

arthur leclerc

arthur goes classic. mon amour or mon bébé all the way. idk what else to tell you, he's just a sucker for those. though i also really see him as someone who wants to call you something in your own native language just to be cute, something along the lines of darling/baby/love etc.

dennis hauger

excuse my norwegian for being a bit rusty but something along the lines of kjæreste, which (if i'm not mistaken) is the word for girlfriend/boyfriend but means more like "beloved"? i think he would love to speak to you in norwegian, even if you understand nothing of it. i also have a feeling that he would be good at using all kinds of pet names to be honest.

[disneyprincemuke]

"wanna hang out?" * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: also nothing to do with vr, but ON GOD I'VE GOT SOMETHING PLANNED WITH THEM I- i am also making this a mini series, because i cant physically sit down and write anything too long because this ask was very long and i simply can't not break it down into parts im sorry anon i love you

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

"mate, just go up and him and say 'hi'. it's not that hard."

"i know, but i'm scared."

"scared? he's a 22-year-old. he won't bite you."

"you don't know that!"

"he's a really nice kid. just go up to him and ask him if he wants to hang out."

"okay, but only if you come with me?"

"you're a fully grown adult! you don't need me with you to play matchmaker to get a new friend."

"please, george? i'm asking you this one favour."

"no can do. look! there he is! go!"

that's the last thing you hear before you are rudely shoved out of alex's driver's room. you press your lips together into a thin line, fists balled by your side as you hear george close the door behind you. you knew hanging out with george in alex's room without alex is stupid.

you had simply noticed the american rookie quietly following the thai driver around, not making many conversations with other drivers during the pre-season test a couple of weeks ago. while you're very well equipped with making friends and incorporating yourself with the rest of your colleagues, logan seemed to be one of the people you found quite difficult to approach.

not because he's unapproachable. simply because he is also very quiet and reserved on his own. once upon a time, when you first joined formula 1 as the only woman on the grid, you were good friends with charles. that was before you had drifted apart amidst all the outright comparisons everyone would make, and eventually, you had fallen into his shadow while he achieved greater things in the sport.

you had learned to find solace in your own company for about a year or so, only speaking to whoever spoke to you. it wasn't until things started falling into place when toto wolff had picked you to race with mercedes, following lewis hamilton's retirement in 2021 after failing to secure himself a championship.

logan, who has just finished his climb up the stairs, flashes you a friendly smile as he fiddles with his keys. "hey," he greets you, before abruptly turning to unlock the door to his driver's room.

"hi," you smile, awkwardly wiping your palms against the material of your shorts. "i haven't had the chance to properly introduce myself to you. i'm (y/n)."

he pushes his door open, craning his neck to acknowledge you. "i know. i've been a big fan since you joined the sport," he glances elsewhere before meeting your eyes again, "i'm logan?"

"right, we already know that," you sigh, shaking your head. you take a step forward, maintaining your distance from the entrance of his driver's room. you don't want to wind up overstepping your welcome. "um, well, welcome to formula 1."

he smiles at you, slightly more genuine this time. you watch as he puts his bag down by the door. "thank you."

"no problem." you bite on the inside of your cheek, turning around to open the door to alex's driver's room. you hear the door creaking behind you, and you vaguely remember that all this awkward conversation wasn't initiated for nothing.

you turn back around and try to hold the door open. your palm meets the door, logan flinching back in surprise as you tilt your head to peek up at him. "have you had your lunch yet?"

he shakes his head. "why?"

"george and i are waiting for alex to finish his meeting with james before we go and grab lunch somewhere in the paddocks," you smile. "wanna hang out?"

[vhagarlovebot]

FOLKLORE. academic rivals with modern! aemond. you could do a modern au but if that's not your thing then they could totally be battling over who knows high valyrian best.

ACADEMIC RIVALS — MODERN!AEMOND.

content warnings: fem!reader. nothing too explicit.

note: first of all, i’m so, so sorry it took me so long! i was struggling with my writing. like a lot. that’s why i didn’t answer your request sooner. i actually wrote this like ten times lol. i hope you like it and, again, i’m sorry to be answering this so late.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

YOU HATE AEMOND TARGARYEN.

you’ve hated him ever since he opened his mouth just to humiliate you, after you answered a question about the history of valyria, to add a tiny, little detail you forgot to mention—that you absolutely knew but thought it wasn’t important—saying that “they would know this if they had studied.” with the most cocky smile you had ever seen. he even had the nerve to wink at you before looking straight ahead, as if nothing had happened.

from then on, every class you shared was the same. you tried to ignore him but as time passed, you couldn’t fight the urge to prove to him that you were better in every aspect. but the more you try, the worse it gets. aemond sees it as a challenge and enjoys riling you up.

you hate aemond targaryen.

you hate his silver hair. you hate his pale blue eyes. you hate his pouty lips. you hate his arrogant and smug ass, always trying to win every argument you two have. you hate how tall and lean he is, and how his muscles flex under his shirt every time he leans down to grab his backpack. you hate how he can’t go a day without opening his mouth to humiliate you, which always end in debates that have the whole class hating you two more than you hate each other. you hate how smart he is, something you’ll never admit aloud, because feeding his ego is the last thing you want. you hate, hate, hate how your heart rate picks up every time he looks at you with such intensity, you can’t even hold eye contact. you hate how everyone seems to be falling head over heels for him. and you absolutely hate that you have found yourself staring at him more times than you should.

everyone knows how you and aemond can’t stand each other. and that is exactly why you professor thought it was a good idea to pair you two for the last project of the semester, that way you could learn to “get along”. as if you’re in pre-school again.

so here you are now, sitting across from him in the library, pretending to read something when, in reality, you can’t stop looking at him, as he’s focused on the paper in front of him.

“are you reading?” he asks all of a sudden, startling you.

“are you blind?” you try to play it cool, leaning back on the chair.

“apparently you are,” aemond laughs, the sound ringing in your ears. “you’re reading the book upside down.” a shiver rolls down your spine, face heating up in embarrassment at getting caught.

“yeah… whatever.” you leave the book aside, trying to ignore the big lump in your throat as you get up, not daring to look at him. “i’ll look for another book.”

what were you thinking?

you hide behind a bookshelf, covering your face with your hands. a million thoughts race through your mind, a lot of them being excuses so you can never have to face him again.

“i’m supposed to hate him,” you whisper, leaning against the bookshelf. you try to repeat the words in your mind but you can’t seem to believe it anymore.

“i don’t believe you,” you open your eyes, surprised that he’s followed you. aemond is looking at you with crossed arms and an amused smile. “and i’m sure you don’t believe that either.”

“you’re arrogant and annoy the shit out of me, of course i hate you!” but that only seems to amuse him even more, which makes you fume.

“nah, i think you want to kiss me.” he says, stepping closer. you take a step back, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“that mouth of yours does nothing but talk dumb shit.” you slap his hand away when he tries to touch you, but aemond only chuckles, trying again and succeeding this time. his pale hand grabs your hip, caging you between the bookshelf and his body.

“such a fierce little thing.” he whispers, breath tickling your cheeks. “you want to know what else this mouth does?”

your breath hitch in your throat, and you lose the ability to speak. all you can do is surrender to him. the more you look at him, the more you notice certain things about him. like the freckles on his nose or the darkness filling his eyes, pupils so dilated you can barely see the blue.

“what? cat got your tongue?” he teases, hand sliding up, up and up until he cups your face.

“i hate you,” you sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. you don’t see it, but you can almost hear his smile.

“you keep telling yourself that, love,” he pauses and you stop breathing for a second, anticipation and adrenaline coursing through your body. “but i won.”

the butterflies in your belly go crazy the second you feel his lips against yours.

you hate aemond targaryen. or so you thought.

#note. . . i hope you liked it! some dialogues were taken from this list of prompts. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

© vhagarlovebot, 2023. — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[dixonsfawn]

𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

── .✦ in honour of me reaching 3k i wanted to do a little celly to thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me, especially as of lately. i love you all so very, very, very much ᡣ𐭩

date : celly will run from now until the 10th of jan .ᐟ

reminder : i have the right to refuse any request without further explanation , all requests must be sent in via the inbox , and please keep in mind that i have a life outside of tumblr. 18+, no minors .ᐟ

you may choose any character from my masterlist but here are some that i’m particularly vibing with atm : daryl dixon , rosita espinosa , rick grimes , steve harrington , rafe cameron , joel miller , sarah cameron , vi (arcane) , astarion ancunin.

𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 — send in any character from my masterlist + a prompt from one of the lists ( fluff , angst , smut ) for a blurb.

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦 — send in any character from my masterlist + a scenario , aesthetic , or colour for a moodboard.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 — send me this with a little description about yourself , a fandom and your preferred gender for a ship.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚 — send this with a game ( fmk , hot or not , top 5 , cast your mutual, etc. ) of your choosing or just come chat.

tagging moots : @amorchai , @lovebugcody , @oncasette , @websterss , @corrodedcorpses , @anqeliclust , @wroteclassicaly , @bcyhoods , @bruisedboys , @bradshawed , @thyme-in-a-bubble , @inklore , @superhoeva , @vifilms , @forevermorelovelorn , @bambidixon , @ghostlyfleur , @andieinchains , @crybabyddl , @deansbeer , @ervotica , @eternalbuckley , @fxllfaiiry , @galatially , @ladylannisterxo , @moonshapedbox , @tinyluvs , @nottsangel , @oceandriveab , @phefics , @rafesthroatbaby , @sunflowerbecca , @sapphireplums , @thevegandarkelf , @vampieteeth , @wolvisms , @inkluvs , @cosmal , @moonshapedbox , @dixons-sunshine , @thevegandarkelf , @scudslut , @bakerydoll ᡣ𐭩

[old-lorarri]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince and london boy . . .

Dominant, possessive, dark, obsessed Daniel Ricciardo + age gap you

DARK DOMINANT POSSESSIVE AND OBSESSED ─ DANIEL RICCIARDO