#I’m on TikTok watching this go down and it’s like

[aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202]

I find it so funny, in light of TikTok’s imminent American demise, that even now they aren’t considering moving to tumblr. The last two social media refugee crises (Twitter -> X and whatever happened with Reddit) prompted a wave of wide-eyed new baffled tumblr users to flood this app and yet last I heard all of the tiktokers are flooding en-masse a Chinese social media app. That is entirely in Mandarin. Instead of moving to tumblr.

[thomamaru]

Left on the Sidelines (Chapter 1)

Synopsis: You walked in the arena, filled with excitement to be watching your boyfriend play a match after sooo many years. The promise of him getting to spend time with you after the match kept you on your feet. Until something flipped in Rin.

Tags: rin itoshi x gn!reader, takes setting in the blue lock VS u20 match, angst, kinda ooc rin i think, inspired by an au i saw on tiktok, cold rin

The anticipation was almost unbearable. You had waited weeks, no, months for this.

Ever since Rin was recruited into the Blue Lock program, your relationship had been a series of stolen moments—a few texts here, a hurried call there.

He’d always been laser-focused, but the promise he made about spending time with you after the U-20 match was what kept you going.

The night before the match, his voice had softened in rare reassurance over the phone:

“I’ll make it up to you. Just wait for me after the game.”

Those words stayed with you, adding an extra bounce to your steps as you arrived at the stadium. You made sure to secure a seat close to the field.

The crowd buzzed with energy, a sea of people clad in team colors, waving banners and shouting cheers. The intensity was palpable, but your eyes were only searching for one person.

As the players began to emerge, the applause grew thunderous. Finally, you saw him—the unmistakable figure of Rin Itoshi walking out with his team.

His teal eyes scanned the crowd, and the moment his gaze landed on you, his expression softened just slightly. He raised a hand, a subtle wave accompanied by a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Your heart swelled. It felt like time rewound itself to when you first fell for him—those giddy butterflies fluttering uncontrollably in your chest.

No matter how tough his demeanor, Rin had always had that quiet way of showing you he cared.

The first half of the game was mesmerizing. Rin was a force of nature, orchestrating plays with precision and determination. While the rest of the team moved with frenzied energy, he was a pillar of calm, calculating each step.

But what truly warmed your heart was how his eyes occasionally flickered toward you in the stands. In those fleeting moments, you felt like his anchor, grounding him amidst the chaos of the game.

By the second half, the match transformed into a battlefield. Rin’s demeanor changed—his intensity radiated off him in waves, and the once-composed boy became almost ruthless.

His ability to lead his team while shutting down the opponents was astounding, but the fierceness in his movements unsettled you slightly. Still, as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the game and Blue Lock’s victory, pride swelled within you.

You couldn’t wait to tell him how amazing he’d been.

---

You made your way to the backstage area designated for players' guests, weaving through the lingering crowd. Finding a spot near the entrance, you stood with your phone clutched tightly in your hands.

He’ll be here soon.

A few minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty.

Your excitement began to dwindle, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. You pulled out your phone and shot him a message:

You: “Great game! I’m waiting backstage. Can’t wait to see you! <3”

No response.

Ten more minutes. You tried again.

You: “Rin, everything okay? I’m still here.”

Still nothing.

You shifted on your feet, anxiety brewing in your chest. The other guests slowly began to disperse, but you stayed rooted in place, glancing at the entrance every few seconds.

As the area grew quieter, you noticed a group of men lingering nearby. Their loud laughter and lingering stares sent a chill down your spine.

“Hey, are you waiting for someone?” one of them called out, stepping closer.

You stiffened, pretending not to hear him, but your silence only emboldened them.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” another sneered, closing the distance.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, though your trembling voice betrayed your fear.

“Come on, no need to be like that,” the first man insisted, his tone mockingly sweet.

Panic clawed at your throat. Your mind screamed for Rin, but the cold reality that he wasn’t there sank in like a stone. You tried to stall, desperately hoping someone—anyone—would notice what was happening.

“Back off!” a voice suddenly barked, cutting through the tension.

"Rin?" You mumbled. A part of you was hoping it was Rin. You looked up only to have disappointment rush over you.

A passerby had noticed the commotion and intervened, causing the group to scatter. Relief flooded through you, but it was short-lived. As much as you were grateful for the stranger’s help, all you could think was: Why wasn’t it Rin?

The adrenaline faded, leaving you emotionally drained as you returned to the waiting area. The once-busy stadium was now almost empty, the excitement of the match replaced by eerie silence.

Your heart clenched painfully as you glanced at your phone—no missed calls, no texts. You had clung to his promise, but now, all you felt was hurt and anger.

Finally, you left. By the time you got home, the weight of everything crashed down, and tears spilled freely. How could Rin have left you like that, after all his assurances?

---

The next day, Rin sent a brief text:

Rin: “Sorry. Got caught up. I’ll explain later.”

You stared at the message, the hurt bubbling to the surface. Taking a deep breath, you replied, trying to mask your anger:

You: “Is everything okay? I waited so long for you yesterday…”

No response came. Hours passed, and your phone screen remained blank, the weight of silence heavy in your chest. Still, you convinced yourself he was tired from the game or busy celebrating with his team.

Rin wasn’t always expressive, but he wouldn’t ignore you intentionally... right?

Over the next few days, your messages to Rin became more frequent, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance.

You: “Hey, how’s training? I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard!”

Rin: “I’m fine. Just busy.”

You: “Can we call tonight? I miss you.”

Rin: “Can’t. Long day tomorrow.”

Each reply felt colder, more detached than the last. It was as if he was replying out of obligation, his once thoughtful responses reduced to bare-bones excuses.

You told yourself he was just stressed, that this phase would pass. Yet, every time you initiated contact, you were met with the same wall of indifference.

Determined to salvage what you had, you decided to surprise him. You knew Rin rarely had time off, but you figured bringing him his favorite snacks or even spending a few moments together might make a difference.

You: “I’m heading near your training facility tomorrow. Should I drop by and bring you something?”

His reply came after an hour:

Rin: “Don’t. I won’t be able to meet you.”

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat.

You: “Oh… okayyyy. Maybe another time?”

No response.

Even when you were apart, you used to find ways to support him. You’d send messages of encouragement, tell him how proud you were, remind him that you were rooting for him every step of the way. But now, it felt like you were shouting into the void.

You: “I know things are hectic right now, but I’m always here for you. Just… don’t forget that, okay?”

When he finally replied, his words stung like ice:

Rin: “You don’t have to check up on me all the time. I’m fine.”

The indifference in his tone hit you like a slap. Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to type back.

You: “I’m just worried about you, Rin. That’s all.”

His next message made your chest ache:

Rin: “There’s no need. Focus on yourself.”

The following weekend, you tried one last time to bridge the gap. After deliberating for hours, you sent him a long message.

You: “Rin, I know you’re under a lot of pressure, and I don’t want to get in the way of your goals. But it’s hard not hearing from you, not knowing how you’re feeling. I miss the way we used to be. I know I’ve been texting a lot… but it’s just because I care about you so much. I wish we could talk like we used to.”

Minutes turned into hours with no reply. That night, your phone finally buzzed.

Rin: “I can’t give you the attention you want right now. You’re better off focusing on other things.”

His words were like a dagger to your heart.

Note: there's a part 2, don't worry ;)))

[mattsbows]

make me ౨ৎ colby brock

in which. . .colby takes his attitude too far and you show him just how much of a brat he is

smut, sub!colby, brat!colby, masturbation (m), belittling, dirty talk, fluffy aftercare+more! lmk if i missed anything!

just over 900 words

most of the time, colby was by far the best sub you could’ve ever asked for. he occasionally had his fun being a brat, but it was all harmless and could be fixed with a quick raised eyebrow from you. but on his bad days, you felt like you deserved a shiny, golden trophy that had “#1 brat tamer” carved into it by the end of the night. 

it started when he came home from a meeting with the merch team. rather than saying hello and showering you with kisses the way he normally did, colby went straight to his office, slamming the door behind him. you’d opted to give him space, knowing that meetings could be highly draining. then, when you had been preparing dinner, he simply sat and watched, scrolling through tiktok without offering an ounce of help. 

your last straw was when you had asked him to go set out the things for a shower while you finished cleaning the kitchen, to which you received a simple, monotone “make me” in reply. 

“sweetheart,” you said, voice dangerously cool. “come here.”

“no.” he challenged, a bratty smirk growing on his face. 

“baby, i asked you to come here.” you said, placing down the rag you’d been drying dishes with. 

“and i said no.” colby replied, eyes going back to his phone.

“colby.”

it was one word, but the sharpness of it made his stomach tighten with excitement. you only called him colby when he was in trouble, most of the time opting for sweet names like “darling”, “baby”, or “pretty boy”. still, he remained stubborn, refusing to look at or come over to you. 

“i’ve had enough of your attitude this evening. go to the bedroom and wait for me.” you said, taking on an authoritative tone. 

he wanted to brat. really, he did. but even on his worst days, colby was still determined to have your hands on his body. without a moment of hesitation, he was scampering to the bedroom, eager to see what the evening had in store for him. 

you took your time finishing up your evening tasks, refusing to give in so easily. you knew that being a brat was a result of stress most of the time, but that wouldn’t stop you from having some fun with colby regardless. by the time you finally came up the stairs, a good 30 minutes had passed. 

“took you long enough.” colby grumbled. 

“oh baby,” you said, taking his chin in your hand. “i’d keep that mouth shut if i were you,” you explained easily, sitting on the bed but making no move to touch him. colby writhed, but your grip on his chin never wavered. “you gonna be upset if i don’t give you what you want? if i don’t ride that little cock.”

“that’s not fair.” he whined. 

“awww,” you feigned sympathy. “too bad. i suggest you get to work on yourself ‘cause i know i’m not. strip.”

colby pouted but obeyed your commands, slowing removing his hoodie and jeans until he was in nothing but boxers. you watched with a gleeful grin as he began to palm himself through the fabric, an embarrassed red hue on his cheeks. “please.” he begged. 

“nope.” was your simple response. 

you were getting entirely too much satisfaction out of the current situation, watching as your words humiliated colby, making him stroke his dick and wish it was your hand instead. a giggle broke out of you as you watched him thrust his tattooed hand into his underwear, desperately chasing the release you wouldn’t give him. before long, the fabric had made its way to the floor. 

“think about what you could’ve had,” you mused. “my mouth around your dick.” you tutted. 

the more you talked, the faster colby’s hand went, his dick throbbing with the need to cum. pre cum glistened at his pink tip, hard as ever. “need to…need to cum.” he whined, ringed fingers desperately stroking his length. 

“awww, poor colby. must be hard to cum without my help, huh?”

your boyfriend nodded desperately, his cock twitching in his hand. “”’m sorry ‘bout earlier.”

you could see the genuine remorse in colby’s eyes. you knew how hard being a content creator with millions of followers could be, especially when it came to dealing with management. and so, you decided to cut him some slack. “go ahead, baby. cum for me.”

colby didn’t need to be told twice. as soon as you spoke he was releasing into his hand, thick, white ropes of cum coating his palm. you smiled sweetly, grabbing a baby wipe from your nightstand and wiping the sticky substance from his skin. 

“you get all that naughty energy out?” you asked. 

colby nodded his head meekly, cheeks flushing. he always felt incredibly guilty on nights like this. the combination of your instruction, as well as the post-nut clarity would never fail to hit him like a ton of bricks. “baby, i really am sorry. i dunno what got into me.”

“i know, sweetheart,” you murmured, brushing some of his fringe from his eyes. “i know you didn’t mean it.”

his blush deepened at your soft words. he always felt undeserving of your love and attention after being such a brat, but you never failed to treat him with love and kindness all the same. and that was exactly what he loved about being your sub.

a note from the author: hey so i fear i was insane for this. enjoy!!

❁ tags: @slxtarchive @tyummyz @beesonhoneytoast @quinnynation @mattslilies

[sossolei]

how i shifted realities accidentally on purpose .☘︎ ܁˖

“What does this even mean?” You may be asking yourself. Well, buckle the hell up because I’m still understanding it myself.

If you’ve never seen me before my introduction post is pinned, there I give an insight on myself and a little bit of my spiritual journey. In it I mentioned that the first time I shifted was random but completely purpose at the same time. Here I will explain how:

When I was around 17 going on 18, I came across a TikTok about a woman talking about this very specific manifesting method that completely altered her life in such a small way she didn’t realize for 6 years. To sum it up, she did this manifestion ritual for something I don’t remember and afterwards thought nothing of it, but then 6 years later she was catching up with an old friend and in their conversations she had mentioned a trip they went on together overseas 2 years prior. Her old friend had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. The woman tried to jog their memory but the friend said the two of them hadn’t seen each other in 6 years, so OP asked her mother if she remembered the two of them taking a trip and her mother said the same thing as the friend. Then OP remembered the manifesting ritual she did and realized that everything people had been saying about it was true and it had altered such a small thing in her life that she didn’t even realize until now.

So, me being 17 and absolutely dyinggg to go shift realities, I read through a couple comments, watched other videos and did a quick Reddit search and they all pretty much said the same thing about how powerful the ritual is, but to be careful because it’ll alter things in your reality.

I did not give a damn about any of those warnings.

Not the best thing to do in hindsight but 🥸oh well.

So I did the manifestion ritual ( im gonna explain it later because I genuinely cannot remember the name of it but I sort of remember what I did so if anyone knows what I’m talking ab, pls enlighten me ) and afterwards I didn’t rlly think about it. I should also mention I was specific with what I wrote down because I ( thought ) know how the universe acts when you don’t spell everything out word for word lmao.

Now this is where you have to hold my hand cause this is going to sound so stupid right now but trust me it matters:

My whole life I’ve had a mole on my LEFT hand middle finger. I love her. I show it off to anyone I get the chance to show it off to. Why? I don’t know, I’ve genuinely just always shown people this mole just because I like it.

The summer of the end of high school, going onto college, I had a lil fling with a guy and again, I showed him the mole on my left hand middle finger. I vividly remember doing this because I do it to everyone.

Then in college around November - December, I get my first ever boyfriend ( not the same guy ). One day we’re hanging out and we’re talking about moles (?) and I instinctively hold out my RIGHT hand to show him the mole on middle finger and…there it is. On my right middle finger. I kid you not, in that exact moment I literally said, “huh, I thought this was on my left hand.” I look at my left hand and there’s no mole??? I brushed that off but when I went back to my dorm, I legit stared at my hands in confusion at how the fuck my mole switched sides.

MIND YOU it’s the exact same mole. Like it looks the exact same, there’s nothing different about the color or shape, it’s just…on the opposite hand???

But since I had absolutely no explanation for it, I just moved on 🤷🏽‍♀️

Life went on, both of my sisters got pregnant early in the year so we were prepping all things baby related whenever I came back to visit. During one of these breaks, my sister is showing me everything she got from her baby shower and one of those things is a bottle warmer. I told her I think a bottle warmer is kinda stupid when you can just use the microwave, especially with how expensive bottle warmers are. And she said to me “yeah why you do you think I’m not buying it with my own money?” You got that? Okay.

The relationship went on as well, and outwardly, the guy was everything I thought I wanted. Nothing against him but he was like the embodiment of everything I read on wattpad growing up and thought was sooo cute. Ex; He was mean to everybody but me, I thought this was so fun and dandy. Anyways, I gradually started to lose interest in astrology, tarot, shifting, manifesting, literally EVERYTHING. So much so to the point where I started to feel crazy because I felt like I was trying to fit into a mold for this guy that isn’t who I am??

But low and behold, THE DAY AFTER we break up, I get the strongest urge to do tarot. Over time I started to find myself in everything I loved and still love to this day.

HERE IS WHERE WE GET TO THE SHIFTING PART

During the summer of 2024, I’m brushing my teeth in my house when I randomly just look down at my left hand middle finger….and there’s no mole. I look at my right hand and what would you know, THE MOLE IS BACK.

I genuinely gasped in the moment and looked at both of my hands side by side to make sure I was seeing everything right. This sent me down a SPIRAL, I legit replayed every interaction I ever had trying to decipher whether or not I was crazy because okay, mole switching sides ONE time is something I can ignore, BUT TWICE??? You must thing I’m stupid.

Then I remember the manifestion ritual that I did soooo fucking long ago by that point. I remember all the stories people had about how small things changed in their reality and all that.

So basically…I had just shifted realities FOR MONTHS, and I did not realize.

But it wasn’t just the mole. Because once I remembered the ritual I did, I tried to look around my daily life and see if anything else had changed and I even asked the universe to show me what changed.

Guys.

I bring my sister a package she got and watch her unpack it…why does she pull out a bottle warmer🧍🏽‍♀️

I said, “girl what do you need two bottle warmers for?”

She said, “what do you mean two?”

I said, “didn’t somebody get you a bottle warmer from your baby registry?”

She says, “no girl, I bought this with my own money and it was expensive as hell, I wish somebody got this for me.”

Oh my god when I tell you, you could have knocked me over with a damn BREATH. I was truly…gagged. Like there’s no other word for it. Bewildered? I don’t even know.

I didn’t even say anything after that cause I just like wow, what is life? LMFAOOO

Now I know you may be wondering why the manifestion ritual didn’t work perfectly if I had specified what I wanted, which was “I want to shift to my desired reality” and I think it’s because before I did the ritual, I was debated whether or not I wanted to shift realities or manifest a SP ( specific person ) and I ultimately landed on reality shifting BUT CLEARLY, the universe had to double it.

Even to this day I’m still processing the shift because when people say reality shifting feels like your regular every day life…I AM PROOF THAT THAT IS TRUE. It didn’t even register that I was in an alternate reality because everything was almost perfect, genuinely, I had a great boyfriend, my friends were thriving, my family was even prospering ( my grades weren’t but let’s not talk about that ) like ??

Now that I’m writing this, I feel like I sound like the lamp starts looking weird story but I swear on everything I have ever loved and ever will love, this is 1000% true and something I’m still reeling from.

If you have any questions I’d be glad to answer but moving on!

TLDR; I have a mole on my left middle finger. I did a powerful manifestion ritual to shift to my desired reality when I was like 17. I got a boyfriend for the first time in college, he was everything I thought I wanted. I showed him my finger mole except it was on my right hand this time and I even said out loud how I thought it was on my left hand. Life goes on, we break up, one day I’m brushing my teeth and look at my left hand but there’s nothing there. I look at my right and BOOM there it is back where it was originally. There is more context pls just read the whole thing lmao.

ABOUT THE RITUAL: okay I don’t remember EXACTLY what I did so do NOT use this as a tutorial, I beg! Basically I had two or three cups of water (?), on a piece of paper I wrote down what I wanted aka “I will shift to my desired reality”, I think I switched the cups to be on top of the paper ? I don’t know y’all, and then I drank the water and kept both things beside me on my nightstand. If anyone knows the name of this manifesting technique, pleasseeee let me know. I’ve genuinely been too scared to look it up myself but ahh I guess it’s time to face it.

Thank you for reading, shifting is so incredibly real, manifesting is so incredibly real and your reality is whatever you want it to be, ritual or not. Thank you! <33

[spilledmoonlight]

currently experiencing an incomprehensible level of rock bottom right now

[sapphosclown]

just discovered rise of the pink ladies i am perhaps in love with cynthia

[jasonntodd]

.

[thebibliosphere]

Y’all are going to have to gag me because I am going to get even more fucking annoying on my DC bullshit.

He looks so good as Clark.

He’s got that nervous-bewildered look Christopher Reeves did so well while still looking like a walking refrigerator. I’m going to throw up. Please be good. Please. I’m on my knees. My Superman movie crops have been withering for so long...

ID: a TikTok from user @/guywithamoviecamera facing the camera who asks, “hey, do you guys mind watching Superman for a moment?” as he places the camera down in front of actor David Corenswet dressed as Clark Kent who looks at the camera in confusion and says, “sorry, watching who? Who are you supposed to be watching?” with increasing concern as he realizes his cover is blown. /end ID

[victory-cookies]

add another tally to ‘genetic potential for having adhd’ boys. first tick being the fact that my grandfather has it. Second one being that. well I don’t know what my dad has going on but it’s something. Third one being that my sister’s therapist just told her she may have adhd

[underskz]

being attracted to all of nct 127 is genuinely my toxic trait

[whorelaud]

reader doing the ‘he’s the best big brother ever’ trend on bf!rafe <3 warnings none/rafe being salty in reader’s comments

Rafe’s gaze hovered over your figure, admiring as you shuffled around to adjust the phone positioned on the counter. You set the timer, stealing a glance in Rafe’s direction, who stood and observed like a lost puppy; unaware of what to do with himself. “I’ll start recording on three, please don’t say or do anything weird, okay? My account is done for if another post of mine gets flagged.”

“Alright baby, start it.” He assured, his statement not convincing whatsoever. You simply rolled your eyes, doing as he ordered, hurrying to press the record button. You straightened up, taking Rafe’s side as you fixed up your hair, instantly flashing the camera a smile when the blue line appeared on the screen.��

Rafe crossed his arms, brows knitting into a frown upon hearing your next words. “If you wanna get to him,” you started, suppressing your giggles as you addressed Rafe with your thumb, then back at your chest. “You’ll have to go through me first.” 

“What are you saying?” Rafe scoffed, slightly taken aback when you turned around, your arms filling the majority of the view. You reached for his face, cupping his cheeks in your hold as you forced his head down, until his eyes leveled with yours. 

Rafe instantly melted when you sweeped him in a kiss, arms naturally finding the curve of your waist, in an attempt to deepen the kiss. A groan of complaint bubbled out of his throat when you moved away, not giving him the satisfaction of getting what he wants, and instead turning back to the camera, with his hand loosely hugging your side. 

“He’s the best big brother ever!” You uttered between chuckles,  sensing the way Rafe stiffened from your side. 

“What the fuck?!” His eyes widened with shock, flashing you a look of disbelief, watching as you erupted into a fit of laughter, unable to maintain character at your boyfriend’s reaction. “Best what now? Delete that shit!” 

“Oh my–” you continue to giggle, amused by the hint of annoyance washing over Rafe’s expression. “You’re the best, I can't ask for a better brother figure–” 

“Enough with your bullshit, man!” He interrupted before you could further speak, aiming for the phone. “You and your stupid TikTok challenges.” 

“Wait, Rafe!” You snatched your phone from his hold, knowing the latter;  he was probably going to delete it. “I’m posting it, your reaction is funny.” 

“You’re not posting that!” He argued, groaning when he strived to take your phone, merely for you to dodge his hold. “C’mon baby, what if they actually think I’m your brother? You already have so many thirsty men in your comments.” 

“Relax, baby.” You rolled your eyes, embracing the boy in a hug, too engrossed by the video on your phone to spare him a glance. “It’s a trend, besides, who in their right mind kisses their brother?” 

Yeah, maybe you should’ve listened to your boyfriend. 

–

andy6928h Let daddy take you out on a date

rafecameron Hop off her dick

alibabefaen Check your Dms for A surprise 👅

rafecameron This is not funny.

user6292936 Get rid of that twig hun 🌹 I will treat you so much better

rafecameron She is completely fine and content with me, therefore, she will NOT be needing you, thanks.

rafecameron Actually yk what f*ck you 🖕🏼

rafecameron Stop hitting on MY girl please and thanks. She is MINE.

a/n old trend ik... but this was too cute not to do :'(

[jungwnies]

TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND | "we listen and we don't judge"

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : "we listen and we don't judge" trend

୨ৎ : genre : humor, angsty only if you squint ୨ৎ : tws : light teasing, SLIGHTLY suggestive for lewis and charles ୨ৎ : word count : 3255

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : race weekend !! can't believe lewis is finally breaking up with mercedes :'(

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max were sprawled on the couch after dinner, scrolling through your phone, you came across the "we listen and we don’t judge" trend and turned to max with a mischievous grin.

“max, we’re doing something,” you announced, setting your phone down.

he raised an eyebrow. “what now?”

“it’s this trend. i’ll say ‘we listen and we don’t judge,’ and you have to confess something funny or random you’ve kept from me. then it’s my turn. we go back and forth, no getting mad. deal?”

he smirked, clearly intrigued. “sounds dangerous. but alright, i’m in.”

you grinned. “okay. we listen, and we don’t judge.”

max leaned back, rubbing his chin like he was deep in thought. “alright... sometimes, when you’re not around, i watch rom-coms. and yes, i cry a little.”

your jaw dropped, and you smacked his arm lightly. “you cry? you don’t even tear up during sad movies with me!”

“no judging!” he reminded you, laughing. “your turn.”

you sighed, biting back a smile. “okay. we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes when i say i’m folding laundry, i’m actually just lying on the bed scrolling on my phone.”

max blinked, a laugh bubbling out of him. “seriously? i knew it took you way too long to fold a few shirts!”

“no judging!” you shot back, grinning. “your turn.”

he grinned, leaning in a little. “we listen, and we don’t judge… i told you i’d stop eating stroopwafels late at night, but i have a secret stash in the garage.”

you gasped dramatically. “the garage? max!”

“you said no judging,” he said smugly. “your turn.”

you rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh. “okay. we listen, and we don’t judge… remember when your favorite hoodie ‘got lost’? i actually stole it, and it’s hidden in my closet.”

his eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t hide his grin. “so that’s where it went! i’ve been looking for it for months!”

“it’s comfy!” you defended. “last one, your turn.”

max smirked. “we listen, and we don’t judge… when i say i’m working late at the simulator, half the time i’m just watching motorsport documentaries.”

you stared at him, stunned. “max!”

he laughed, throwing an arm around you. “hey, at least i’m consistent. no judging, remember?”

“fine,” you muttered, shaking your head but smiling. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it was a rare, lazy afternoon at home with lewis, the two of you stretched out on the couch with no obligations for the day. you were scrolling through your phone when a trending couples game caught your attention. immediately, you knew lewis would make this hilarious.

“lewis,” you said, nudging his arm.

he turned to you, smirking. “what is it now?”

“we’re playing a game. it’s called ‘we listen and we don’t judge.’ i’ll say that, and you have to confess something funny or random you’ve been hiding. then it’s my turn. but no getting mad.”

his smirk deepened, clearly intrigued. “no getting mad? sounds like this might end in trouble.”

“just go with it,” you said, grinning. “you’re up first. we listen, and we don’t judge.”

he leaned back, tapping his chin like he was debating the perfect confession. “alright… we listen, and we don’t judge. i once borrowed your face cream, and now i’m low-key addicted to your skincare routine.”

you blinked at him, your jaw dropping. “you’re the reason i keep running out so fast?”

he grinned sheepishly. “your stuff’s top tier. what can i say?”

“unbelievable.” you shook your head, but you couldn’t stop laughing. “fine, my turn. we listen, and we don’t judge... i sometimes hide the remote under the couch cushion when you won’t stop flipping channels.”

his mouth fell open in mock shock. “that’s why i can never find it?!”

“no judging!” you reminded him, biting back a laugh.

“alright, alright,” he said, sitting up straighter. “we listen, and we don’t judge... when i say i’m texting toto, sometimes i’m actually looking at old pictures of roscoe.”

you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “roscoe’s been getting all the attention while i’ve been sitting here, huh?”

“he’s my boy,” lewis said with a shrug, a proud grin on his face. “your turn.”

you smirked, thinking for a moment. “we listen, and we don’t judge... i may or may not have eaten the last slice of cake and blamed it on you forgetting it in the fridge.”

he pointed at you, his eyes wide. “you did that? i thought i was losing my mind!”

“no judging!” you said, giggling.

“fine,” he said, shaking his head but laughing. “last one. we listen, and we don’t judge... i keep your voice notes on my phone and listen to them when—”

before he could finish, you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “lewis!”

he was already cracking up, raising his hands in surrender. “you said no judging!”

“and you’re breaking the rules of decency!” you shot back, hitting him again as he laughed harder.

he eventually grabbed the pillow from you, pulling you into his lap. “you’re lucky i love you. even if you ate my cake.”

“you’re lucky i love you,” you teased back, resting your forehead against his. “even if roscoe gets all your attention.”

ʚ・george russell

it was one of those chill evenings at home, where neither of you had any pressing plans. george was scrolling through his phone, half paying attention to whatever was on tv, when you suddenly sat up with a mischievous grin.

“george,” you started, already giggling.

he glanced over, instantly suspicious. “what have i done now?”

“nothing… yet. but we’re playing a game,” you said. “it’s called ‘we listen and we don’t judge.’ we take turns confessing random, stupid things, and the other person can’t get mad or judge.”

he narrowed his eyes, clearly trying not to laugh. “this sounds like a trap.”

“it’s not a trap!” you promised. “come on, i’ll start. we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes, when you’re out, i play f1 23 just so i can crash your car and watch it fly into the barriers.”

his jaw dropped. “my car?! my poor car! how could you?”

“no judging!” you reminded him, grinning. “your turn.”

he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “alright, fine. we listen, and we don’t judge… once, when you were in the shower, i tried on your slippers, and honestly? i get why you love them so much. they’re so soft.”

you stared at him, stunned, before bursting into laughter. “you mean to tell me you’ve been walking around in my fluffy bunny slippers?”

“not walking,” he said defensively. “just… trying them on.”

“sure,” you said, still laughing. “okay, my turn. we listen, and we don’t judge… one time, i accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater in the wash and blamed it on the dryer.”

george’s eyes went wide. “that was you?! i thought i’d bulked up!”

“no judging!” you said quickly, holding back another laugh. “your turn.”

he leaned back, a mischievous grin on his face. “we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes, when you’re asleep, i watch those weird, satisfying carpet-cleaning videos on youtube.”

you blinked at him, trying not to laugh. “you’re telling me you’re out here binge-watching carpet scrubbing at 2 a.m.?”

“they’re oddly relaxing!” he said with mock indignation. “your turn.”

you smirked. “we listen, and we don’t judge… i stole one of your racing socks once because i couldn’t find mine, and i still have it.”

“oh, so that’s why i’ve been missing one sock this whole time!” he said, pointing at you dramatically.

“you weren’t supposed to notice!”

george laughed, pulling you into his arms. “this game is wild, but now i’m going to look at my socks, slippers, and sweaters very differently. also, we’re getting you your own racing socks.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

it was one of those laid-back evenings, the two of you lounging on the couch, tiktok videos filling the quiet air between laughs. carlos had his phone propped up on the armrest, both of you scrolling through videos. when you came across one of those “we listen and we don’t judge” videos, your eyes lit up.

“we should do that,” you said, grinning at him.

carlos raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “tú y yo? (you and me?) i don’t know… are you sure you’re ready for my confessions?”

you crossed your arms and smirked. “oh, please. i bet you have nothing on me.”

“alright then,” he said, locking his phone and turning fully toward you. “we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes, when you ask me to fix something around the house, i pretend i don’t know how so you’ll do it.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed. “carlos! you’ve been faking it?”

“no judging!” he said, smirking back at you, completely unfazed. “your turn.”

you shook your head in disbelief but couldn’t help but laugh. “fine. we listen, and we don’t judge… i once took a picture of your car keys just so i could send it to you and pretend i had your keys when i’d lost mine.”

his eyes widened. “wait, so you’ve been using my keys to trick me into thinking you didn’t lose yours?!”

“yeah, well… no judging!” you said, grinning.

carlos leaned back, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “okay, we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes, when you get me to help you clean, i do half the work and then take a break to watch racing highlights on my phone.”

you stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “you’re literally cleaning with one hand and watching f1 with the other?”

“isn’t that multitasking?” he said, shrugging with a teasing grin. “your turn.”

you rolled your eyes, but your lips couldn’t stop smiling. “we listen, and we don’t judge… i’ve been secretly eating your chocolate stash. and no, i don’t plan to stop.”

carlos leaned toward you, pretending to be shocked. “¿qué? (what?) you’ve been stealing my chocolate? that’s it, i’m hiding it next time!”

you giggled, shrugging innocently. “no judging!”

carlos pulled you closer, laughing softly. “alright, alright. you’ve won this round, but next time, i’m keeping my keys—and my chocolate—locked up.”

you smirked, resting your head on his shoulder. “no judgment, remember?”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was sitting at the piano, playing casually, while you were scrolling through tiktok. you stumbled across the "we listen and we don’t judge" trend and couldn't resist showing him.

“amour, look at this. we should try it.”

he looked up from the keys, a playful grin on his face. “what is it? another tiktok trend i’ll regret?”

you showed him the video. “it’s a confession game. we take turns sharing things we’ve kept secret, and the other person can’t judge. we listen and we don’t judge.”

he raised an eyebrow. “you know i’m already regretting this, right mon amour?”

you laughed. “don’t be dramatic. we listen and we don’t judge.”

“alright, alright,” he said, stretching. “i'll go first…we listen, and we don’t judge… i used all your shampoo in the shower once, and when i realized it was nearly empty, i just told you it was already like that, so i threw it out while i was cleaning.”

you blinked, looking surprised. “charles! and you didn't even buy more!”

charles laughed. “at least i put it in the recycling, right?”

“no judgment…i guess." you chuckled, shaking your head. "alright, your my. but i’m keeping track of this, and i'm checking how much shampoo is left every time i get in the shower!”

you take a deep breath before giving him a cheeky grin, “okay, we listen, and we don’t judge… when i told you i knew how to cook that fancy dinner, i was actually watching youtube tutorials the whole time. i burnt it twice, so i just pretended i forgot and ordered something instead.”

charles burst out laughing. “i knew it! it tasted too good to be true. so, you’ve been secretly lying to me this whole time?”

you shrugged innocently. “we listen, we don’t judge.”

he raised his hands in surrender. “fine, no judgment.”

then, he leaned in a little closer, his grin turning slightly mischievous. “okay, last one, but don’t judge, alright amour? i… sometimes fantasize about you in that dress you wore the other night… and how it’d look when you—”

“shut up, charles!” you cut him off, quickly throwing a pillow at him. “don’t say that out loud!”

charles just laughed harder, hands up in defense. “what? you said we listen and we don’t judge!”

“i didn’t say you could be that honest!” you shot back, laughing as you tried to grab the pillow back.

he grabbed it first, pulling you closer and holding you in his arms. “you’re lucky i love you, even when you’re stealing my shampoo.”

you grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “you’re lucky i love you, even when you make me blush with your terrible flirting.”

charles winked. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

ʚ・lando norris

you and lando were sprawled on the couch, both scrolling through tiktok when you came across the “we listen and we don’t judge” trend. you smirked, nudging him.

“hey, this looks fun. we should do it,” you said.

lando glanced at the screen, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “oh, i’m so in. i’ve got a few things i’ve been meaning to get off my chest.”

you laughed, knowing this could get interesting. “alright, we listen, and we don’t judge.”

lando immediately sat up straighter, ready to spill. “okay, okay. i’ve got one. we listen, and we don’t judge… i’ve been telling you i’m really good at making spaghetti, but the truth is, i just pour sauce over it and hope for the best. i don’t actually know how to cook it properly.”

you stared at him. “wait, you’ve been lying about being a chef this whole time?”

lando shrugs, looking way too proud of himself. “hey, it works. you still like it, don’t you?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “i don’t even know what to say to that. you’re like a pasta fraud.”

he leaned back, looking smug. “i’ve never been caught, so it’s all good.”

“alright, my turn,” you said, smirking. “we listen, and we don’t judge… i once accidentally ate all your leftover pizza and just left the box in the fridge like nothing happened. i thought you wouldn’t notice.”

lando’s eyes widened. “noooooo, you didn’t! you ate the pizza and didn’t even say anything?”

you nodded, trying not to laugh. “yep. i was hungry.”

he rubbed his temples. “this is worse than the spaghetti. at least i knew what i was doing with that!”

“hey, we don’t judge,” you shot back.

lando paused, looking like he was trying to think of something equally embarrassing to share. “alright, alright. this one’s a good one. we listen, and we don’t judge… sometimes when i’m on facetime with you, i don’t really pay attention. i just let you talk while i’m scrolling through instagram or playing games. but i’m good at pretending like i’m listening.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed. “what? no way. so all those times i thought you were listening to me, you were just—what? ignoring me?”

he winced, shrugging. “i mean, yeah. but i still love you, i promise! i’m just multitasking.”

“lando!” you threw a pillow at him. “i can’t believe you! that’s a whole new level of rude.”

he ducked, still laughing. “we listen, and we don’t judge!”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, well, i’m judging. big time.”

then you paused, smirking. “fine. one more. we listen, and we don’t judge… i once tried to sneakily eat all your chocolate bars, but i was so obvious about it that you caught me before i even finished.”

lando couldn’t help but laugh. “what?! you didn’t even hide it well?”

you shrugged. “i panicked, okay? i thought i could get away with it.”

“i can’t with you,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re lucky i love you, even though you’re a snack thief and a liar.”

you grinned. “i’m lucky you love me, even though you can’t even cook spaghetti properly.”

he smirked. “you’re lucky i still cook for you, pizza thief.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were curled up on the sofa in your shared apartment, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. a video popped up showcasing the "we listen and we don't judge" trend, and you nudged oscar with your elbow.

"hey, this looks fun," you said, grinning. "we should do it."

oscar, his eyes still glued to his phone, shrugged. "sure, why not?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "though i can't imagine having any confessions that are that scandalous."

"oh, you'd be surprised," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "everyone has secrets, oscar."

he chuckled, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen. "alright, let's do it. we listen, and we don't judge."

you took a deep breath, a mischievous glint in your eye. "okay, here goes. we listen, and we don't judge… i may have 'accidentally' shrunk your favorite mclaren hoodie in the wash. like, significantly."

oscar's eyes widened in horror. "you what?!" he exclaimed, leaping off the couch to inspect the damage. "not the hoodie with the papaya stripe! that was vintage!"

you winced, trying to hide your amusement. "it was an accident! i swear! i must have mixed up the settings on the washing machine."

he held up the shrunken garment, now more suitable for a toddler than a formula 1 driver. "y/n, this looks like something a chihuahua would wear!"

you burst out laughing. "okay, okay, i messed up. but hey, maybe it'll make a comeback as a crop top?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

oscar sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "alright, alright. my turn. we listen, and we don't judge… i may have accidentally reversed your car into the mailbox last week."

your jaw dropped. "what?! the mailbox that's now leaning at a 45-degree angle? that was you?!"

he cringed. "yeah, about that… i was in a bit of a rush, and i may have misjudged the distance."

"misjudged the distance?" you repeated incredulously. "oscar, you're a formula 1 driver! you judge distances for a living!"

he shrugged sheepishly. "everyone makes mistakes, okay? besides, it's not like i crashed an actual race car."

you shook your head, still in disbelief. "this is unbelievable. what's next, are you going to admit you can't actually cook?"

oscar's eyes widened, and he quickly changed the subject. "okay, your turn! let's hear another confession."

you smirked, knowing you had him on the ropes. "alright, fine. we listen, and we don't judge… i may have pretended to like your favorite band just to impress you when we first started dating."

he gasped dramatically. "you mean you don't actually enjoy listening to that obscure australian rock band?"

you cringed. "okay, maybe 'enjoy' is a strong word. but i've grown to appreciate them… sort of."

oscar burst out laughing. "this is too good! i can't believe you've been faking it this whole time!"

you playfully punched his arm. "hey, at least i tried! besides, it's not like you haven't exaggerated your cooking skills."

he grinned, pulling you closer. "touché. well, i guess we're both full of surprises."

you snuggled into his side, still chuckling. "yeah, i guess we are. but hey, at least we can be honest with each other, right?"

"absolutely," he agreed, kissing your forehead. "we listen, and we don't judge… mostly."

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[fushitoru]

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a gojo satoru fic/drabble

cw: gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff LOLLL, gojo being a pathetic loser for his gf, use of baby, babe, reader referred to as gf and wears makeup, gojo being jealous, crack, based off this (instagram link)

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." Satoru squints at the scene, reading out the caption on the TikTok as he watches the guy on the screen, long ass spider legs laid out on the couch while waiting for you to get ready. Curiously, he clicks on the filter without fully watching the video and starts filming to generate the different types of hugs.

"A back hug." The curious smile on his face slowly fades away as a grimace takes place as he gains the thousand yard stare. "Nine. Okay, not at a good start so far—"

He groans, face scrunching in pain as he exhales out at what he sees on the screen: slow dance hug. Then, he imagines you, a man's hand on your waist and you smiling just like those stupid fucking drawings at someone who's not him—"Ten. Oh my fucking god."

Clutching the lower half of his face, he looks concentrated as he waits for the shuffler to give him some less painful option, groaning in pain once again, looking back at the scene, and then groaning again. "One armed hug," he strains out, blindly reaching for the lowest number he could rank it as.

The filter shuffles yet again, and he's almost in tears, groaning immediately on instinct but then doubling back at his screen. "Polite hug." He contemplates it. "Okay, a two, not so bad, not so—"

A pause. "A classic hug." He stares at the screen like it just betrayed him, until he decides it's not so bad. Reluctantly, he ranks it at three.

Then, he waits for the filter to give him another painful vision, and it delivers. "A slow catcher hug—oh my godddd." Satoru is shaking his head, eyes teary as he groans loudly at the though of you jumping up to another man, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for a hug. If someone was listening to him, it would seem like he was dying with the way he was covering his mouth, shaking his head, and exclaiming "what the fuck"'s as he stared at his phone screen in sheer shock.

Unfortunately for you, you were within earshot, blending in your blush and doing finishing touches as you heard Satoru's shrieks coming in from the living room. He seemed to be on the edge of tears, and worriedly, you set down your brush and rushed to where his sobs were coming from.

And there he was: in fetal position, phone on the floor as he shook his head as if in shock. "Baby," you hurried to him, grabbing his face so you could figure out what was making him so distressed.

He didn't seem to be injured as he meets your eyes, upset. "I can't do this bruh," he laments while turning to be on his back and rubbing his eyes. You just look at him confused.

"Do what?"

He turns, and pauses. Scans you in your champagne dress for the fancy place he was taking you and the way you did your makeup so sultry. It's just for him, but after the events of that Tiktok—that's now stopped filming—all he feels is petty jealousy because other guys can see you like this.

Out of nowhere, he declares, "I can fight."

You blink. "What?"

"I can fight," he repeats, nodding emphatically as if trying to convince himself. Then, after a beat: "Why do I have such a pretty girlfriend?" He groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Baby, why do you look so good right now?"

While he does this, you inspect him for any signs of injuries or things that could've caused him this much distress. Finding none and used to his theatrics, you sigh and pat his cheek. "I’m going to finish getting ready," you say, deciding he’s not in mortal peril after all.

As you return to your vanity, Satoru calls after you, still sulking. "Just so you know, I ranked the polite hug at two. Because I love you. And I can fight."

"Good to know, Satoru."

a/n lowk spiderman!gojo coded. i love writing fluff i would lowk want to write this for nanami i feel like he would slowly grow more and more jealous LMAOAO

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[classyrbf]

TAP OUT, TAP OUT! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...the jjk men react to you doing the ‘tap out’ dance trend on tiktok

INFO...jjk men (gojo, geto, nanami, toji) x fem!reader, fluff, suggestive comments, possessiveness (in a cute way), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

GOJO

as soon as you set the phone up, gojo thought you were gonna do a cute couple video with him while he was sitting on the couch. He was smiling, completely oblivious to what you were about to do. You stood in front of the camera and waited for the music to start, turning around before the time hit one on the countdown.

As soon as Gojo heard the music he damn near leaped off the couch and grabbed your phone. “Satoru!” You gasped, turning to him with wide.

“Uhn uhn, baby. I can’t have you throwing your goodies back for everyone else to see!” He holds your phone over his head, making sure you couldn’t reach.

“Satoru, I wasn’t gonna post it!” You laugh, reaching for you phone. “I just wanted to see if I could do it!”

“See if you could throw it in a circle?! Baby—”

“Wait a second, how do you know about this trend?” You questioned, slowing raising your brow.

“Uh…um…Suguru showed me.” He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“It was one video! Baby I swear!” He dropped to his knees, clinging onto your shirt.

“Get up, you drama queen!”

TOJI

“Toji, I wanna show you this new dance I learned!” You excited propped your phone up, smiling as you set the timer and turned towards him. “Look!”

“I’m watching, mama.” He sighed, resting his head in his palm while standing beside you. That’s when the music started and you began to do the dance, the first few seconds of it completely harmless. It when you started shaking your ass that Toji’s eyes widened and he immediately grabbed your waist and threw you over his shoulder to carry you away.

“Toji! I was showing you the dance!” You laughed.

“That wasn’t no damn dance. Can’t have anyone seeing my girls ass like that.” He finally put you back on your feet, staring at you as you had a full on laughing fit.

“That was so funny! You were so quick to drag me away!” You fanned yourself, still chuckling with tears in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t wanna hear it. Should know that ass is mine.” He grabbed a handful of your ass.

NANAMI

nanami was sitting in his office, typing away on his computer before you barged into his room, nearly giving him a heart attack. Without exchanging words, you propped your phone up and hit record. He closed his laptop and turned in your direction, brows furrowed as he wondered what you were up to.

He heard the music and watched as you began dancing, bending over lower and lower and it finally clicked in his head what you were going to do. He stood from his seat and stood directly in front of the camera, blocking the view of your ass.

“Nice dance, sweetheart but it should only be reserved for me. Don’t you think?” He smirked down at you as you stood back up, smiling at him.

“I wasn’t gonna post it!” You grab your phone, laughing at the moment when he completely blocks the view with his broad back. “I was just showing you!”

“Uh huh, just like all those other dances you were showing me?” He raised a brow. “Nice try.” He pecked your lips, walking back to his desk. “Your ass did look great, by the way.”

“Aweee, Ken!” You giggled.

GETO

as a prank you weren’t even going to do the dance, but instead close the bathroom door and blast the song to make geto think you were. You heard the audio on his phone a few times, knowing he’s seen the videos and what better way to prank him than to show him how it feels when youre shaking ass on the internet.

You quietly closed the bathroom and set up your phone against the sink, turning your volume up all the way and pressing the timer. You stood against the wall, a mischievous smile on your face as you waited for the moment he’d bust through the door. Over the music, you heard his footsteps and laughed to yourself when he flung the door open.

“What are you doing?!” He stood there, peaking his head in to see you were recording. “I swear if you’re out here shaking ass…Baby, I will literally crash out again.”

“I was pranking you!” You laugh, pointing at your phone. “That’s what your ass gets! Haha!”

“Baby, I swear you’re gonna be the death of me.” He glares at you, taking in a deep breath.

“How romantic.” You step towards him. “How about I actually do the dance, but…I dance on you, hm?” You question and immediately his eyes widened in excitement.

“I like the sound of that.”