#weird thought but these memes are helpful

[femsolid]

Some crazy french scandals you've probably never heard of:

In 2023, a senator invited an mp to his apartment to celebrate his election. He went to the kitchen alone and put GHB in her drink. When he came back he was acting weird and urged her to drink it fast. When the drugs started to take effect, she thought she was dying of a heart attack and he tried to calm her down, but she ran from the apartment and called for help. She was taken to the hospital and he was later arrested. He claimed that he didn't mean to put the drugs in her drink, he was doing a magic trick and the drugs fell into her drink by mistake. On his phone search history the police found that he had been reading about rape drugs. The trial hasn't happened yet, so for now he's still working as a senator and has refused to step down.

In 2024, it was revealed that children were being tortured and raped at a catholic school for decades. The french prime minister was made aware of this in the 90s and did nothing. He is now being investigated by the parliament. He was questioned for more than 5 hours (it lasted this long because he refused to give a straight answer) during which he spent most of his time insulting leftist MPs and pretended to be the victim. The investigation is still ongoing and more than 45 children, now adult men, have come forward. The video of him slapping a little boy while visiting an impoverished neighbourhood resurfaced. While questioned by the parliament he explained that the boy was trying to steal from him and that sometimes hitting a child can be educational. Hitting a child is illegal in France.

2018: During the yellow vest protests, policemen were routinely brutalising, maiming and even killing people. During a rally on may 1st, a policeman was filmed beating a woman and then a couple. However, on closer inspection, it was revealed that the man was impersonating a police officer and that he was president Macron's close friend and bodyguard. The police let him borrow their uniforms and helmet to beat up protesters.

It was also revealed that he was unduly authorised to carry a gun, to use a car paid by the government, and to own a badge authorising him to enter the parliament despite not being a member. He was sentenced to 1 year of house arrest wearing an electronic bracelet and 2 years of suspended sentence.

In 2025, Marine Le Pen, the popular leader of the french neo-nazi party was convicted of embezzlement. This was estimated to have caused a loss to European funds of 4.8 millions of euros.

She was accused of having hired fictitious assistants when she was a member of the European Parliament. In reality, they were working for her party. The court found there was “no doubt” about the existence of the scheme. She was sentenced to a five-year ban on running for public office with immediate effect and two years to be served outside jail with an electronic bracelet.

Let's talk about the left a little bit. The leader of the french left is so agitated and emotional he's an infinite source of memes here.

However, in 2018, things took a disturbing turn when more than 100 policemen, and a few prosecutors were sent to his home at around 7am, armed and with a warrant to search through all his belongings. They also visited a dozen of his coworkers all at the same time, in what appeared to be a very well prepared sting operation. The reason was unclear, though there were suspicions of embezzlement. It was something we'd never seen before in France, in terms of police deployment, and it seems excessive, especially given the fact that nothing came out of it.

However, that's not what people remember from that day.

During the policemen's search, the leftist leader, joined by other mps, became very angry as they were not allowing them to be in the room and witness the search. He screamed a lot, got in their face and was so upset he shouted weird things like "I'M the republic! Don't touch me, my person is sacred!!!" (which have become catchphrases in France) and "break down the door comrade!!!" which made the media talk for days and speculate about his mental state.

The policemen pressed charges against him, one of them stating that he was on sick leave for a week and had to get psychological support because he had nightmares after being shouted at by the leftist leader who responded that he probably shouldnt be a cop if he was that fragile. He was later convicted of "rebellion" against a police officer and had to pay 8K to the policeman. He also got 3 months of suspended sentence.

Obviously I should finish with Macron:

In 2018, a young horticulturist told president Macron it was difficult for him to find a job. Macron told him that all he had to do was cross the street and work as a waiter. In 2016, a unionist criticized him and Macron responded "You don't scare me wearing a T-shirt! The best way to buy yourself a suit is to work." In 2017, he stated: "When you go to the train station, you walk by people who succeed and people who are nothing." In 2018, when everybody became aware that his bodyguard had been impersonating a police officer to beat up protesters, Macron responded to the french people with "Come and get me!" In 2018, he said: "People who are having a hard time financially need to be more responsible. Some are doing well, but others are fucking around." In 2019, he said he was unhappy that yellow vest protestors were being invited to speak in the media: "Jojo with his yellow vest is considered an equal to a minister or mp!" During the yellow vest protests, a middle-aged woman who was just standing there and holding a peace flag was charged by the riot police and left unconscious on the ground. The whole scene was filmed and photographed. Macron said it was her fault for being there and told her that "she should be wiser in the future." However, the police chief responsible for the attack was later convicted. In 2024, when actor Depardieu was being investigated after being accused of rape by several women, Macron stated that Depardieu was a fantastic actor who made France proud and that he wouldn't participate in this witch hunt. In 2025, Depardieu was convicted on two counts of sexual assault.

In a book written by 3 journalists, they quote Macron as saying about the state of french hospitals: "the problem with emergency wards is that they are filled with Mamadou!" a blanket name he uses to call black men. Three weeks later, he told several african governments who had expelled french military from their countries that they forgot to thank France. He explained that the only reason african countries had their sovereignty was because of the french army. He added "it's okay, they'll thank us eventually" to which the Tchad foreign minister responded that he had a "contemptuous attitude towards Africa" and added: "we don't have a problem with France, but french leaders need to learn to respect african countries and their sovereignty." Macron also called the people of Haiti "complete cunts".

In 2017, he visited Mayotte, a french island, and joked that their traditional boats mostly served to fish immigrants. A few years later, when a typhoon hit that same island and killed several people, leaving the rest without drinking water and living in slums, the people of Mayotte were angry and desperate by the lack of support from France. Macron came to visit them, got angry and screamed: "I'm not responsible! I'm not the typhoon! You're complaining but you're quite happy to be french! If you weren't french you'd be 10 000 times in more shit! Yes I'm angry! Because you're disrespectful!" In 2017, he visited another french region, the french Guyane where people were on a strike. Indeed, people were complaining once again about being left out and living in poverty. Macron talked to the media and said that all the strikes needed to stop because it was "preventing the island from functioning." Problem: the french Guyane is not an island. It's situated on the south american continent between the Surinam, Brazil and Venezuela...

That's all I have for today! I hope our misery was entertaining. As a bonus, here is Macron getting slapped by some random french guy:

Au revoir.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-lord-of-awesomeness/775956761857425408/cat-stan-au-where-the-curse-malfunctions-and

^

Cat aura wizard from awhile back but I make it RaCat or Double Curse.

For double Curse, Stan lives in the same town as ford turning ppl into cats at night, and Ford’s accidentally turning everyone into wolves by day. Townspeople are in fact not happy with this situation.

Then eventually Ford and Stan find out about eachother and do spider-man pointing meme.

Do their curses cancel out? Do they turn eachother in wolf and cat?

For RaCat, Emma-May is on the run from the government from turning the government officials into raccoons, at a world conference, and Stan is in trouble because Rico’s gang finally caught up to him and he accidentally turned them into cats. They bump into each other, and Emma-May’s like hey wait aren’t you that guy who my husband went to college with, and Stan’s like no???

They somehow start taking advantage of their curses for evil. Using it to do big heists. However Emma-May is sad she can’t get anywhere near Tate lest he turns into a raccoon. So she wants Tate to have an animal aura too, so she can visit her son.

ALSO so we have RaCat (Stan and Emma-May), Double Curse (Stan and Ford), however we have yet to have Possum Fiddleford and Cat Stan.

So I propose, Fiddleford gets cursed to be a possum by going on a robot rampage and terrifying a witch.

Fiddleford was on his way to his son and his wife’s house when he bumps into Cat Stan…who kidnaps him. Because Fiddleford can understand him!

Also Fiddleford knows Ford apparently!

Emma-May goes to Ford’s to look for Fiddleford and has suspicions that Ford may have stolen away her husband in the dead of night to go on an Epic Scientific Romance.

I think it'd be funniest if they're not immune to each other's aura, so the identity miss still happens. Now Stan's a wolf and Fords a cat, and they still have to work together to undo each other's curses, neither one knowing that they're with their brother lol. The townsfolk run them out of town until they figure it out, everyone tired of losing their hands constantly.

For RaCat its, again, very funny if they don't cancel each other out and Emma-May has no idea the guy she's turned into a racoon is the twin brother of her husbands best man. They still use their aura's for chaos and mischief, but they have to time it right so they don't accidentally get each other in the middle of their heists.

I have a small idea with possum Fidds, but its not a Stan and Fidds duo animal adventure. Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm. Hm.

Fidds gets cursed robo rampaging in Cali, and bumps into Stan who's slowly been making his way north towards Gravity Falls do to the law of weirdness magnetism. Stans elated to find someone who finally understands him, while Fidds is freaking out about the whole thing and just trying to go home. Except now this random talking cat is following him, and he has no idea how honest its being about also being cursed, and is also super suspicious about all the details of his life.

Stan's just following this guy because he has literally nothing else going on, and he seems confident that his wife can get his college bud to fix him, so Stan's getting in on that stat. Very aware that Fidds is constantly trying to ditch him, but he's been a cat way longer than Fidds has been a possum, so not only is Fidds failing every time, he realizes Stan knows things about surviving that he's clueless on. Its almost like reluctant villain (stan) and hero (Fidds, only because the villain role was already taken) team up, where Fidds will leave Stan somewhere, scamper off, turn a corner and Stan's already there, smugly waiting.

As for Emma-May, I don't think she'd think Fords snuck off with her husband, as she originally only thought Ford was seducing Fiddleford because of Shifty and a nine hour drive alone with her thoughts. Maybe to enlist his arcane assistance in locating her husband, or becuase Ford calls for help on the portal and Fidds is now missing. Offers his help finding him, but needs, like, his hair or something.

This now becomes the one au where they know Fidds is a possum, but through a series of shenanigans can never catch him to turn him back. Fiddleford has no idea they're looking for him, just that his wife took his son and now HE's thinking that maybe Ford seduced his wife. No one knows Stan's here, just that now Fidds has a cat friend following him around.

[hplonesomeart]

Stabby stabby time 😌✨

(Original meme audio source can be found via this YouTube video!!)

[sysig]

Got your number (Patreon)

[robinspinknest]

[blue-eli]

Realised it’s @khoc-week so even though I don’t have the energy to do it daily have this I did a while ago but never posted.

Arxeht my beloved. They came to me in a dream where I was a replica (of multiple people but looked most like Vidar) made by apprentice Nort/Xemnas, who was the fifteenth member of the organisation and also had my knowledge of hit video games Kingdom Hearts and kept getting randomly thrown through space and time.

[dachshunds-and-fondue]

so weird to think that there's all this stuff inside me. like? intestines?? stomach acid?? a shaky lil skeleton??? you're telling me that there's a bunch of rocks inside of me clickety clackin around all the time? no. i'm not buying that. i am simply a sentient rubber ducky that makes vaguely comprehensible noises every now and then.

[vixxenfox]

I’ve been a bit too obsessed with BSD and it’s all I can focus on rn it’s actually a problem XD

[byanyan]

thinking that tomorrow i might look around for a silly little meme to reblog to help me get some writing energy back up 🤔

[kristhecoxinha]

Yall know when you make an good art, but it is for the group of characters your RP character belongs and they're alternate/fused versions of popular media characters so you don't post it to people who dont are part of the rp? Only me?1!1?

(if any of yall wanna see it just ask)

[bilaudad]

yes yes yes 💯💯💯

the worst advice I have ever received in my life hands down was in my late teens before going off to college, when I was told that there were “science people” and “arts people,” and that they generally didn’t overlap which is complete horseshit.

I had so much angst about which kind of person I was, changed my major a million times when I was in undergrad, fretted endlessly about my future and identity. skip forward, I’m now in the medical field, and also finding so much joy in launching myself back into art, which I neglected for too long. I’m having the time of my life exploring the digital medium and indulging my current hyperfixation (and along the way shedding some toxic shame over being “cringe” or “not normal about” the thing).

and you are so right, these things inform each other. being a better artist makes me a better scientist, and vice versa. neither have a monopoly on curiosity or creativity, nor intelligence/analytical thinking. they are not enemies, they are soul mates. and they r absolutely fucking on the couch

“the arts and sciences are completely separate fields that should be pitted against each other” the overlap of the arts and sciences make up our entire perceivable reality they r fucking on the couch

[rhythmic-idealist]

Thought I would share this here. Image is a clickable link that will take you to the account that posted it! ID has now been corrected, and is in alt text. It is also below, please excuse the redundancy:

—

Emergency Workplace Organizing Committee (EWOC) tweeted: “No one can make you stay in an unsafe worksite. Close up and walk out with your coworkers until management or nature fixes the problem. Contact us for help.”

EWOC quoted their own tweet and added, “If your boss won’t let you evacuate: Convince as many coworkers as you can to all leave together & contact us right away. You have the right to organize & leave an unsafe worksite. If they’re not bluffing & still try to fire you after the storm, we’ll help you fight it.”

Attached to the OP is a meme of a skeleton marching away, titled “Just walk out - you can leave!” It lists, “wildfire smoke, hurricane, flooding, no heat, powers out, no water, tornado warning, AC broke, weird fumes.” Bottom text reads, “Climate sucks… hit da bricks!” Overlaid is the meme’s author, “@/organizeworkers.”

End ID.

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

Smth I think about sometimes is how like, I do so much stuff to overcompensate my struggles with various things, but generally I don’t acknowledge that I’m doing outside things to overcompensate or if I do I don’t get into specifics.

And then because of that like even if I tell people I’m struggling with x thing they just won’t believe me sometimes coz they didn’t see/listen to me doing work on my own time.

Even if I’m already underperforming they won’t understand how much effort it was taking JUST TO UNDERPERFORM.

But then if I make any progress or aren’t the literal worst it’s all swept under the rug as if it’s easy for me and I just wasn’t working hard enough the whole time or something?

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[brunchable]

FREAKY FRIDAY | Body Swapped Steve Rogers x f!reader.

Pairings: Johnny Storm Possessed Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Body Swap. Sexual Themes. Funny? Horndog Johnny, for an unknown reason, body-swapped with Steve. Summary: You woke up with Steve suddenly out of character and having an overflowing amount of rizz. A/N: It's comedy central in my blog this week. . . I can't help but insert one particular meme lmao

taggies: @mrsevans90

Like you did every morning, you woke up to the gentle warmth of Steve next to you, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you today. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

"Morning, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice smoother than usual. You blinked in surprise. Sure, Steve was affectionate, but this was... new. 

You smiled back, albeit a little wary. 

"Good morning?" Before you could say anything more, he captured your lips in a kiss that was how to describe it-more confident, more playful than his usual gentle morning kisses. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, someone's in a good mood today,” you said, trying to shake off the weird vibe. 

Steve just grinned and gave you a little wink. "What can I say? I'm just appreciating my girl." 

You squirmed under his intense gaze. You couldn't help but notice how his hand casually trailed down your arm, lingering a little longer than usual. You weren't sure if you should feel flattered or... flustered.

“Should we stay in bed a little while? You know…” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively as he wiggled his brows.

But this time, he didn’t stop there. As he leaned in closer, he slowly stuck out his tongue and wiggled it playfully, making his intentions blatantly clear.

Your face immediately turned bright red.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, quickly pressing your hand to his lips and pushed him away to stop him before he got any closer, utterly flustered by the suggestive gesture.

He chuckled against your hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. For a second, you felt him wiggle his tongue against your palm, teasing you further before you jerked your hand back with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Unbelievable!” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more.

He gave you a devilish grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“What? Just offering some ideas, sweetheart,” he teased, giving you a playful wink.

“No, Sam’s going to be here soon for your morning run, so go prepare.”

The excitement drained from his face, “I do?” 

“Yes!” 

Johnny—or rather, the man you thought was Steve—let out a low chuckle, clearly unfazed by your refusal. This wasn't like Steve at all. Steve was always respectful, sweet, and… well, a gentleman. But today? He seemed like a different man entirely.

“Guess I forgot,” he said with a smirk, sitting up slowly and stretching. His tone was casual, but the grin he gave you was anything but innocent.

As he shifted in bed, he leaned back casually and gave a quick, deliberate glance downwards before gesturing toward the noticeable outline in his sweatpants. The fabric clung snugly, revealing the distinct, firm shape of his dick pressing against the material, enough to leave little to the imagination.

“But if you change your mind about staying in bed…” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you know where to find me.”

You blinked in disbelief, your cheeks burning as he got out of bed and strolled toward the bathroom. He threw one last playful wink at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you there in a state of complete confusion.

"What the hell is going on with him today?" you muttered to yourself.

You climbed out of bed and started to get ready for the day, you tried to shake off the feeling that something was… off. Maybe Steve was just in a playful mood? Maybe he was testing out some new approach to your relationship, though you couldn't help but wonder where it had come from all of a sudden.

But, soon enough, you heard the front door open and Sam's voice echoed through the apartment. "Yo, Rogers! Are you ready for our run?"

You peeked out from the bedroom just in time to see "Steve" step out of the bathroom, giving you another grin before heading out to meet Sam. He greeted him casually, as if everything was perfectly normal.

Sam looked over at you with a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Morning.”

“Morning,” you replied, though your voice sounded more distant than usual. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look directly at Sam, worried your face might give away just how weird the morning had been.

As they left for their run, you were left alone, still wondering why Steve was acting so differently. But then, you shook your head. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe he was just feeling particularly confident today. Either way, it was Steve, your Steve, and you trusted him.

Right?

× × × ×

You made breakfast while ‘Steve’ is out on a run. You tried to shake off your confusion by busying yourself with making coffee. It wasn't helping. The memory of Steve's unusually bold behaviour lingered in your mind. 

And just when you were about to pour yourself a cup, you felt a sudden smack on your ass. You yelped in surprise, nearly spilling the coffee. Whipping around, you saw Steve standing there with a smug grin on his face, looking very proud of himself. 

"Steve!" you gasped, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. "What are you—" 

"What?" he said with an innocent shrug, though his mischievous grin betrayed him. "Just saying hello." 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By smacking me on my ass?”

“Can't help it, you look too cute when you're all focused," he teased, stepping closer. 

His hands slid around your waist, and before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. Your breath hitched. This was not the Steve Rogers you knew. But as much as his behaviour was throwing you off, you couldn't deny the butterflies his actions stirred in your stomach. 

"Steve, what's gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Instead of answering, Steve leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, peppering kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, and your nose—until you were giggling uncontrollably.

“Steve, stop it!” you laughed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your laughter was cut short as his lips trailed lower, brushing down to the side of your neck. The playful atmosphere shifted instantly, your breath hitching in your throat. His kisses became more deliberate, slow and teasing, sending sparks of heat through your skin.

“Steve…” you whispered, but your words melted into a quiet gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He lingered there, pressing soft, lingering kisses, making your pulse race.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, and without warning, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking gently but with enough pressure that you knew he was leaving a mark. A deep, guttural hum escaped him as he continued, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled your body against him.

The sensation of his lips and the gentle tugging of his teeth made your head spin, and you instinctively tilted your head, giving him better access. 

“Steve,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into his.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered against your skin between kisses. “You drive me crazy.”

His voice was low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. He sucked on your neck again, his tongue flicking over the spot before he pulled back slightly to admire his work.

"You’re gonna have to explain this one," he murmured with a grin, his lips ghosting over your ear, still hovering close enough to keep you breathless.

× × × ×

For the next hour, you tried to regain some composure, but it was hard with the heat of Steve’s kisses still tingling on your neck. Every time you moved, you could feel the slight sting of the mark he’d left behind, a not-so-gentle reminder of how wild this morning had been.

After making the bed and tidying up, you decided to head to the living room to relax for a bit, hoping that "Steve" had calmed down from whatever flirty streak had taken over him. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little… off. He's been too quiet.

You stepped into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw practically hitting the floor.

There, casually sprawled on the couch, was Steve in his birthday suit. Stark naked. The only thing covering him was your guitar, strategically placed across his lap. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch, while his free hand strummed lazily at the strings.

He looked up as if nothing was out of the ordinary, a casual, half-lidded grin spreading across his face. 

“Hey,” he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Steve… what the hell are you doing?” you finally stammered, struggling to form coherent words as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

He shrugged nonchalantly, still strumming the guitar. 

“Just thought I’d serenade my girl.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head. “You know, I think I’m getting better at this guitar thing.”

Your cheeks flamed red as your gaze flickered between his shamelessly exposed body and the guitar that, frankly, wasn’t doing the best job at covering much.

“Put some clothes on!” you squeaked, your face burning from the sight in front of you. “What if someone walks in? Sam might—"

“Sam’s gone,” he cut in smoothly, winking. “It’s just you and me, babe.” He tilted his head, clearly amused by your reaction. “Besides, you weren’t complaining this morning.”

You could feel the heat rising to your face again, this time in full force. "That doesn't mean you get to... to do this!" 

He just smirked, lazily leaning back on the couch, the guitar still resting against him. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Steve, for the love of everything, PLEASE, just put some clothes on,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow erase the image from your brain.

Instead of listening, he suddenly stood up, the guitar still barely covering anything, and with the confidence of someone performing at a sold-out show, he started singing. Loudly. 

“And you're kissin' on my neck, I'm like, “Oh”, Got your hands up on my chest, I'm like, “Oh”” he belted out dramatically, grinning ear to ear as he took a step toward you, his voice echoing through the room. 

You panicked. 

"Oh my God, Steve! No!" you squealed, immediately clamping your hands over your ears, turning away from him as fast as possible

“Kiss me 'til there's nothin' left, Oh my god, oh my god!” he sang even louder, walking toward you like some rock star, his guitar still precariously covering him as he inched closer. 

You darted behind the coffee table, creating a barrier between the two of you, your face blazing red. 

“Lalalalalalalala!” You covered your ears tighter, trying to block out the sight and sound of your naked boyfriend serenading you. “Lalalalalalala! I can't hear you.”

But he wasn't stopping. If anything, your reaction only encouraged him further. 

“Why are you running, baby?”

He grinned wickedly, circling around the coffee table like a predator playing with his prey. "You could really tear me apart, but- I love you like that, Everything you do just turns me on, I love you like that, Body on my mind like all night long.” 

You squeaked and moved in the opposite direction, keeping the table between you, but Steve—guitar still precariously positioned—was unstoppable, matching your every move. It was ridiculous, like a slow-motion chase scene in a rom-com, but you couldn’t help but laugh through your embarrassment.

"Steve! Seriously, stop!" you cried out, ducking and weaving as he chased you around the table, his singing never faltering.

"I love you like that!" he belted, reaching out with one hand as if trying to grab you. You yelped, dodging him by moving to the other side.

"Lalalalalalalala!" you cried, your hands clamped tighter over your ears as you rushed toward the door, desperate to escape.

His laughter echoed in the living room, the sound of his voice-and that ridiculous guitar performance following you as you fled to the safety of the kitchen. Behind you, you could hear him laughing even harder. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stop!" he called after you, his voice still tinged with amusement. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your face still burning red. Today was officially out of control. 

And this wasn't the Steve Rogers you signed up for.

× × × × 

As the day finally wound down, you were still trying to recover from the whirlwind of events that had unfolded earlier. After a long, flirty, and borderline chaotic day with “Steve,” you were just glad it was almost bedtime.

You had managed to avoid another musical performance from him after the whole guitar incident, but the playful energy hadn’t completely faded. As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, you could feel his eyes on you from across the room, watching your every move.

“Don’t even think about it,” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

He was lounging on the bed, shirtless now, with that same mischievous grin you’d been seeing all day. 

“What?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your mouth. “You know exactly what.”

He laughed, the sound low and smooth as he got up and sauntered over to you, his bare feet padding quietly against the hardwood floor. Before you could react, he was behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring how cute you look in your pajamas,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to the heat of his skin against yours. 

“Steve, it’s been a long day,” you said, your voice weary but laced with affection. “Can we just... go to bed? Without any more surprises?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering for just a second before pulling away with a grin. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

You gave him a playful glare, narrowing your eyes as you turned to face him. “You said that earlier today, and then I walked into the living room and—”

“Okay, this time I’ll behave,” he interrupted with a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Promise.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but smile. He may have been driving you absolutely crazy today, but this version of Steve—or Johnny, whoever he really was—was still undeniably charming in his own chaotic way.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you both crawled into bed, the covers cool against your skin. Steve—or, well, Johnny—rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he gazed at you with that playful smirk.

“You sure you don’t want a little bedtime serenade?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive.

You groaned and pulled the blanket up over your head, burying yourself beneath the covers. “No!” you said, your voice muffled. “We’re done with that for today!”

He laughed again, the sound warm and contagious as he settled down beside you. The teasing faded, replaced by a softer, more familiar warmth as his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle now as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You peeked out from under the covers, smiling despite yourself. “Goodnight, Steve.”

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how long this flirty version of Steve would last—and whether or not you were ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stirred awake, the early light filtering through the curtains, and you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms slipping around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned into the embrace at first—until the events of the previous day rushed back to you. Your eyes snapped open, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped slightly, pulling away from the arms that had suddenly felt different, your heart pounding.

“Whoa, hey—what’s wrong?” Steve's voice came out soft, laced with confusion and concern. You turned over to face him, and instantly, you could tell something had changed. His eyes weren’t twinkling mischievously, there was no sly grin or playful wink. Instead, his brow was furrowed in concern, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you again.

“Steve?” you whispered, your voice hesitant, scanning his face. He looked… like himself again. That quiet, gentle warmth was back, the one that had been missing yesterday.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, still looking concerned. “Are you okay? You jumped like I startled you.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft and careful, nothing like the bold, confident gestures from the day before.

You blinked at him, your mind racing. The contrast between today and yesterday was stark. Yesterday, he had been all cocky smirks and teasing touches, constantly riling you up. But now? Now, Steve seemed completely aware of what had happened, but wasn’t letting on.

“I—uh, I’m fine,” you stammered, still trying to process it all. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Steve frowned, clearly still confused by your reaction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your arm as he studied you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but your heart was still racing. "Yeah… you’re just… different from yesterday."

His brow furrowed further, but now there was something else behind his eyes. He looked like he was holding something back. “Different? What do you mean?” he asked, though you could sense he already knew.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Yesterday, you were just… more… flirty,” you said carefully, watching his reaction. “Like, a lot more. You were… singing to me. Naked. With my guitar.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his face turning red almost instantly, but there was something else—recognition. “What? I—I did that?” He didn’t seem shocked by the words, more by the fact that you were telling him.

You nodded, your own face heating up at the memory. “Yeah. And you were… really, really bold. Smacking my butt, picking me up, kissing me all over…"

Steve's gaze drifted down, and before you could even say another word, his fingers gently brushed against your neck, right where Johnny had left that bold mark. His touch was tender at first, but the moment his thumb traced over the small bruise, his entire expression shifted. 

"That motherfucker! I'm going to kill him!”

[jungwnies]

f1 rookies | finals season

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, isack hadjar, jack doohan, gabriel bortoleto, and liam lawson ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : the 2025 f1 rookies try to help their high school senior girlfriends with essays in subjects they’re terrible at...except for one smarty-pants.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy & fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 2061

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : no race this weekend ... unfortunate.

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you sighed dramatically, forehead pressed against the cool surface of your desk, your statistics textbook open to a page that looked more like ancient runes than math.

kimi peeked into your room, hair still damp from his post-training shower. “you okay?”

“no,” you groaned. “i have to write a proof essay for stats and i don't even know what the question is asking. like. what even is a chi-square test? is it edible?”

kimi padded over, curious despite the visible fear creeping into his eyes the closer he got to the math. “show me.”

you pushed the textbook toward him like it was radioactive.

he sat beside you, peering at the assignment sheet, lips moving silently as he tried to read it.

“…it’s just numbers,” he said finally, like he was offering wisdom from the gods.

“not just numbers!” you cried. “it’s probabilities. it's… math with extra steps and suffering.”

he frowned, tilting his head. “okay. maybe… we do it like a race.”

you blinked. “a race?”

he nodded, warming up to the idea. “look — the data points are like racers. the chi-square thingy tells you if they finished where they were supposed to finish or if something weird happened. like… if max verstappen somehow finished last.”

you stared at him.

“that’s actually—” you blinked. “that’s… kind of good.”

kimi perked up immediately, straightening in his chair. “yeah?”

“yeah! like expected vs. observed outcomes.”

he grinned, proud like he just set a world record. “see? i’m a genius.”

you giggled, reaching out to ruffle his damp curls. “you’re a genius and my emotional support calculator.”

he flushed slightly, smiling as he leaned over your notes. “okay, now write that down. but make it sound smarter.”

together, you cobbled together a rough outline — him offering racing analogies every five minutes, you translating them into statistics lingo — and slowly, your essay started to take shape.

by the end of the night, you were half asleep on his shoulder, your laptop still open, and kimi was scrolling through chi-square memes on his phone like he was actually invested.

“next time,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, “pick an easier subject. like, uh… tire pressure.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

you flopped onto your bed dramatically, clutching your crumpled list of socratic seminar questions to your chest.

ollie sat at your desk, spinning lazily in your chair, sneakers kicking the floor. "alright, hit me," he said confidently. "what’s the topic?"

"free will versus determinism," you mumbled.

the spinning stopped. "versus… what now?"

"basically if we’re actually making our own choices or if everything’s already determined by fate or whatever."

he blinked. "that’s—" he paused. spun half a turn. "that’s horrible."

"right?"

you sat up, tossing the paper at him. he caught it clumsily, holding it like it was evidence in a murder trial.

"okay," he said bravely. "let's prepare. like sparring. you ask the question. i'll answer. we'll crush it."

you grinned, feeling slightly more hopeful. "alright. first question: do humans have free will?"

he sat up straighter, nodded like a professor. "yes. obviously. i chose to have cereal for breakfast instead of toast."

you stared.

he stared back.

"expand on that," you said, trying not to laugh.

"i… woke up. thought about toast. but then thought about cereal. then chose cereal. therefore: free will," he said, counting on his fingers like he was delivering the sermon on the mount.

"that’s not exactly the level they’re expecting," you said gently.

he looked personally offended. "what do they want from me? a thesis?"

you giggled, crawling over and tapping his forehead. "less toast. more philosophy."

he groaned dramatically, throwing himself backward into the chair. "you know what? tell them life is like… racing."

you blinked. "go on."

"you think you're choosing everything — when to brake, when to turn — but a lot of it’s already decided by where you start, how good the car is, who’s around you." he shrugged. "you're choosing. but also, you’re not."

you stared at him, jaw dropping slightly.

"wait. that’s… actually brilliant."

he looked smug. "yeah. i have like… two brain cells. but they’re powerful."

you burst out laughing, shoving his chair lightly. "you're my philosophical weapon, bearman."

he grinned, reaching out to boop your nose. "go in there, say something about cereal and racing, and you’ll win life."

ʚ・isack hadjar

you sighed dramatically, slumping over your laptop. “isack. i’m going to fail biology.”

he flopped onto your bed like a ragdoll, arms spread wide. “what’s the topic?”

you pointed to your screen. “i have to write a research paper on parasitic mind control.”

he sat up immediately, looking way too excited. “like zombies?”

you nodded grimly. “fungus that takes over ants' brains. worms that control fish. it’s horrific.”

isack beamed like you just told him christmas came early. “that’s so sick.”

you gave him a look. “yeah. sick. and confusing. and complicated. and i have no idea where to start.”

he scooted closer, peering at your half-typed notes. "okay okay okay. listen. this is easy."

you raised an eyebrow. "you failed high school biology."

"details," he said, waving a hand. "first, write something dramatic. grab their attention."

you frowned. “like what?”

he grinned. "start it like: 'imagine you're walking through the jungle… and a fungus eats your brain from the inside out.'”

you blinked. "that's… actually kind of good?"

"i'm french," he said smugly. "we know drama."

you laughed, slumping against him. "okay, what about the actual science part?"

he shrugged. "google it?"

you gave him another look.

he grinned wider. "or we make it up."

"isack."

"kidding! kidding!" he said, throwing his hands up. "we'll be semi accurate."

you sighed, grabbing your textbook again. "alright, fine. help me brainstorm."

two hours later, your "brainstorm" session had devolved into him pitching increasingly insane theories about zombie ants building secret underground cities and whether or not humans were already infected without knowing it.

(you were 60% sure he wasn’t joking.)

by the end of the night, your essay actually had a strong intro, a rough outline, and a lot of isack’s terrible but weirdly inspiring ideas scribbled in the margins.

he flopped onto the bed dramatically as you typed. "you're welcome for the nobel prize."

you laughed. "you’re lucky you’re cute."

"obviously," he said, already dozing off beside you.

ʚ・jack doohan

you groaned, flopping onto your desk dramatically, your french textbook sliding dangerously close to the edge.

jack leaned over your shoulder, chewing gum casually like he wasn’t about to experience a full-blown existential crisis. "what's wrong?"

"i have to write a whole essay in french," you moaned. "about my childhood memories. and i can barely even say bonjour without crying."

he grinned. "alright, alright. let’s do it together. how hard can it be?"

you gave him a flat look. "do you even speak french?"

jack paused.

then, without missing a beat: "no. but i know how to say croissant."

you buried your face in your arms.

"okay, okay," he said, standing up dramatically. "don’t panic. i have resources."

you peeked up at him. "resources?"

he pulled out his phone, typing aggressively. "pierre gasly. we’re calling for backup."

you stared at him. "jack. you can’t just facetime pierre for my homework."

"watch me."

three rings later, pierre’s blurry, confused face appeared on screen. "mate? everything okay?"

jack grinned, tilting the phone so pierre could see you buried under a pile of french worksheets. "yeah bro, can you help my girl with her french essay? she's suffering."

pierre blinked. smirked. "of course. what’s the topic?"

"childhood memories," you mumbled from under your arm.

pierre laughed. "easy. start with quand j'étais petit(e), je… then you just lie for the next five sentences."

jack nodded like he was absorbing ancient wisdom. "got it. lie. good plan."

you giggled despite yourself, sitting up. pierre rattled off a few starter phrases, jack repeating them horribly with a thick aussie accent that made you laugh so hard you almost fell off your chair.

thirty minutes later, you had the rough beginnings of an essay — half of it thanks to pierre, half of it thanks to jack’s chaotic moral support.

when you finally hung up, jack grinned, ruffling your hair.

"see? teamwork."

you beamed at him. "you’re ridiculous."

"and you’re gonna ace it," he said confidently. "just… maybe don’t pronounce anything the way i did."

ʚ・gabriel bortoleto

you slumped dramatically against the back of your chair, spinning aimlessly as your world history textbook lay open on your desk.

gabriel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling knowingly. “homework?”

"yeah," you groaned. "i have to write a five-page essay about how the roman empire influenced modern society."

he perked up instantly. "i love the roman empire."

you blinked. "of course you do."

he jogged over, pulling up a chair like he was about to host a ted talk. "okay, first of all — aqueducts. engineering marvels. you have to mention aqueducts."

you scribbled it down obediently. "aqueducts. got it."

"and roads," he added, already starting to gesture with his hands. "they basically invented the highway system. you ever think about that? roman highways."

you nodded, typing faster.

"and then there’s the legal system!" he continued, eyes sparkling. "so much of what we use today — courts, contracts, property laws — came from roman principles."

you stared at him, slightly overwhelmed. "how do you know all this?"

he shrugged, grinning. "i read. also, tiktok sometimes. but mostly reading."

you giggled, glancing at the growing list of topics he was rattling off. "okay, but i need, like, structure."

"structure!" he clapped his hands dramatically. "introduction: why the roman empire mattered. body paragraphs: engineering, law, military, politics. conclusion: the vibes are still alive today."

you snorted. "did you just say vibes in an academic plan?"

he winked. "scholarly vibes."

you tried to focus, typing as he ranted — but soon enough he was deep-diving into random side topics like roman concrete, weird emperors, and the fact that vending machines were technically invented by ancient engineers (somehow???).

“gabriel!” you finally laughed, cutting him off mid-rant about julius caesar's calendar reforms. “stay on topic!”

he blinked innocently. “i am on topic.”

you giggled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “you're my favorite chaotic historian.”

“and you're welcome for the best essay of your life,” he said, proudly tossing your pen onto the bed.

ʚ・liam lawson

you groaned, dramatically sliding down the couch until you were nearly horizontal, a stack of history books balancing dangerously on your stomach.

liam glanced over from where he was gaming on the floor. "what's wrong now, princess?"

"i have to write an essay about the economic effects of the industrial revolution," you mumbled. "for advanced history."

he paused his game.

turned.

and gave you the most falsely confident smile you’d ever seen.

"easy," he said, tossing his controller aside. "i know all about that."

you blinked. "you do?"

"yeah," he said, nodding seriously. "the industrial revolution… that’s when people invented factories. and, uh… steam. steam was big."

you stared.

"lots of steam," he added, deadpan.

"liam."

he grinned. "okay, fine, i don’t know shit. but i am great at making things sound convincing."

you laughed, tossing a pillow at him.

he crawled over, plopping next to you, skimming your textbook like it was written in alien language. "alright, so… just say that people started making stuff faster. like, mass production. and the economy got booming. profit. money. cha-ching."

you scribbled a few notes, giggling. "you’re literally just saying capitalism noises."

"exactly!" he said proudly. "that's history, babe."

you groaned, but couldn't stop smiling. he peeked over your shoulder at your half-written paragraph.

"also mention… pollution," he said, squinting at a random heading in your book. "people were coughing and stuff. very historical."

you laughed harder, shoulders shaking. "you're the worst tutor."

"and yet, you're smiling," he teased, bumping your shoulder.

you shook your head, finishing your messy draft while he threw in random "facts" like, "probably some guy tried to steam-power a horse" and "definitely child labor, don't forget that."

when you finally set your pen down, exhausted but a little triumphant, liam wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"see? history made easy. just add steam, money, and mild suffering."

you leaned back into him, laughing. "remind me to never let you help me again."

he smirked against your hair. "you’ll come back. i’m irresistible."

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