#this was long so i’m sure i missed some points

[crystallizsch]

jhgnngggn i’m back to thinking about post-nrc yuusha and jamil--- extremely long ramble below prepare for uh angst??? i guess???

i buried some of these lore in the tags somewhere but anyways-

yuusha and jamil exchanged hair ties when they separated and went off on their own post-nrc as a way to "remember each other by".

they both have different plans for their own futures despite wanting to be "together"— whatever that means. yuusha stayed at nrc working as staff and jamil is out travelling.

at this point though they STILL never officially “dated” but oh they were so so close SO many times to putting a label on it.

“what happened then” <- idk man they’re incredibly stupid. yuusha is still horribly noncommittal and jamil is- jamil. (“…the hell does that mean” <- SHHHH i will not elaborate)

they ended as just "really good friends" (something something on they’re on the spectrum of queerplatonic but they didn’t understand that that was the case) .

━━━━━━✦

at first they did well keeping in touch from a long distance—

yuusha never forgets to check in on jamil, texting/calling whenever possible, she was always the first to initiate.

and jamil still would’ve made the same effort of course, but yuusha always beats him to it. he sort of just expected her check-ins every day.

and he looks forward to that 1-15 notifications that he gets as soon as he wakes up. it does get him going knowing that she was specifically thinking of him at the start of the day.

that wouldn't last though. eventually, the more yuusha met more people and cultivated new relationships, the more she felt herself grow further and further apart from jamil.

yuusha thrives on physical relationships and the majority of the time the only communication and contact between her and jamil is through the phone.

and so the messages from her became less and less frequent as yuusha got more absorbed and interested in her work and other relationships.

don't get it wrong, she still cared about jamil. loved him even, in her own way.

he just became less of a priority.

━━━━━━✦

it was bittersweet to think that jamil finally had the chance to initiate the conversation.

because that meant yuusha had been thinking of him less and he had to remind her himself that— hey he's still there, remember him?— although that's not exactly what he would say. that's a bit too antagonistic and petty. surely, she's just busy. right?

yuusha would respond as if everything was normal. but the usual fondness, the usual warmth, they weren't there. her words through the screen felt dry. forced.

she can use the unnecessary punctuations and emojis she wants but she is not getting past him.

they called. it was nice to hear her voice. but. there's the same feeling of detachment. why are they talking as if this was one of their first times?

yuu, what happened?— is what jamil wanted to ask. but he would also respond nonchalantly. as if everything was normal.

jamil still tried to reach out to her. similar to how she did with him.

but it was to no avail.

their interactions felt too far gone from what they had.

eventually jamil also realized that there was No Point.

if she wasn’t going to make the effort anymore, why should he?

━━━━━━✦

professor yuusha tala walks in to her class which her signature braid and feathered hair tie.

it's lovely having gotten used to working at nrc. her students are surprisingly behaved and she enjoys teasing chatting with her coworkers. surely she isn't missing anything, is she?

and the traveler, jamil viper. he's seen most of the sights, experienced a lot of things. it's like he is slowly fulfilling his childhood dreams.

he ties his hair with the same one he's been using for years. it's a surprise it hasn't snapped yet from how worn out it looks. this really belonged to someone so cheap, huh.

he wonders why he's still using it. he had come across fitting souvenirs that could replace it.

waste of money— jamil convinces himself. besides, this hair tie is fit for every occasion and it's still holding up anyway.

he'll just get a new one when this one finally bites the dust.

if it ever does.

it's really stubborn for a hair tie.

[candycandy00]

I’m Your Present! - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame jokingly asks Santa for a cute girl he can play with all night long. He gets you. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. All characters are adults. Bondage. Use of toys (vibrators, handcuffs, blindfold, anal beads). Overstimulation. Praise kink.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

Totally ripped from the hentai Eromame. I basically just rewrote it with Togame lol. I recommend giving it a watch! It’s very cute! And required yearly Christmas viewing for me!

It was just a joke, really. Just the Bofurin guys fooling around at their annual reunion/Christmas party. For some reason they always invited the guys from Shishitoren, and Togame always showed up. He brought drinks and passed them out, laughing when someone stuck a pair of reindeer antlers on Sakura’s head. 

Togame can’t remember who came up with the idea first, but someone joked that they should write letters to Santa. Most of the guys were half drunk by that point, so they all agreed. Some of them proudly read theirs out loud while the others cheered. Some very quickly ripped theirs up or threw them away. Maybe they asked for something a little too personal to share with the group. 

As for Togame, he wadded his up and crammed it in the pocket of his jacket, thinking he’d toss it when he got home. 

Now, standing in the kitchen of his small apartment, he fishes the crumpled letter out and smoothes it back out. He chuckles to himself as he reads it. 

“Dear Santa, please send me a cute girl to play with all night.”

He wads it up again and drops it into the trash. What a dumb joke. 

But it was at least a little sincere. Togame hasn’t had a girlfriend since his first year of college, and lately he’s been feeling a little lonely, and a lot horny. 

It’s probably because Choji of all people got himself a girlfriend earlier this year. And in true Choji fashion, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He’s been bragging about all the sex he’s having with his hot girlfriend, and it’s only made Togame realize how much he misses being intimate with someone. 

It’s all he can think about the last few months, and he’s been jacking off like a teenager. 

He sighs as he takes off his jacket and gets ready to turn in for the night. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’ll be expected to visit his relatives tomorrow. 

Just as he starts to turn his lights off, he hears a thump on his balcony.

You squeeze past three people carrying loads of presents, your own arms full of brightly colored packages. You stack them in the pile next to the giant sleigh, there to be sorted and packed by other helpers. 

Someone calls your name, telling you to come to the office. You straighten your red, fur-trimmed dress and walk back into the main workshop. The office is a wide room in the back where the Wishlist Management team works. Three of them are behind a counter, reading over lists and letters while the rest are either sorting through last minute mail or relaying orders to the workshop. 

“Hello? Did you need me?” you ask, stepping into the room. 

The helper in the middle looks up from a crumpled piece of paper. “We have an unusual wish here. Would you be interested in granting it?”

“Me?” you ask, taking a seat across from the counter. You’re a standard helper, usually working on gift wrapping, sorting, or transporting. You don’t usually make gifts yourself, so actually granting wishes is a little out of your wheelhouse. 

The helper behind the counter looks a little embarrassed as he slides the piece of paper over to you. When you read it, you feel yourself blush. A cute girl to play with? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean board games. 

“Who wrote this?” you ask. Sometimes letters like this arrive from teenagers, and they’re always discarded. For the Management team to be taking it seriously means it has to be a sincere wish from an adult. 

The other helper slides a photo across the counter. “Togame Jo. Twenty-eight years old. Lives alone.”

You pick up the photo and look at this Togame fellow. To your surprise, he’s extremely good looking. In fact, he’s totally your type. Midnight black hair and kind emerald eyes. Wow. 

“Of course you’re free to say no,” the other helper says. “We can ask someone else if you’re uncomfortable with-“

“I’ll do it!” you say, cutting him off. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure? You do know what he’s asking for, right?”

You nod. “I know. I’ll get some toys from the adult department and head on out. Thank you for bringing this wish to me!”

The other helper gives you an awkward smile and wave as you walk out the door. 

You’re not sure why, but you were instantly drawn to Togame when you saw his picture. It’s not just the lovely green eyes or the gentle smile. There’s something there, hidden just beneath his calm expression. A sadness, a loneliness, that touches your heart. You want to give him the best Christmas present ever.

When Togame pulls back the curtain from the glass door to his balcony, he’s not sure what to make of the scene before him. 

Outside, on his balcony, is a young woman sprawled out as if she’d fallen from the sky. 

He hurriedly opens the door and steps out into the cold, but before he can kneel down to check on her, the woman suddenly sits up. She rubs the back of her head and straightens her Santa hat, then looks up at him. 

“Oh, hello! You’re Togame Jo, right?”

Rendered momentarily speechless by this bizarre situation, Togame nods, then extends his hand to her and helps her to her feet. 

“Come inside,” he tells her, unsure of what else to say. It’s too cold to be standing around out here, especially in that short dress she’s wearing. 

Once inside his apartment, he gets a good look at her. She’s very pretty, with a cute Santa girl dress on. It’s candy apple red with white fur trim. There’s a cloth sack hanging from one arm. She’s looking at him with bright eyes and a smile. 

“How did you end up on my balcony?” he asks, shutting the glass door and closing the curtains. 

“The express sleigh dropped me off. I think they misjudged the distance a bit though,” she replies, still smiling. 

“Express sleigh?” The words make no sense to him. She doesn’t seem drunk. Is this some kind of Christmas prank? Before she can elaborate, he asks another question. “Who are you?”

“I’m your Christmas present!” she declares, doing a little curtsy. When Togame simply stares at her with a confused expression, she stands up straight and says, “You did ask for me, right? Someone to play with all night? We got your letter.”

Togame’s stunned face reddens. How did this woman he’s never met before know about his joke of a letter to Santa?! “I didn’t mail any letter,” he says, feeling a bit dazed at this point. He never even showed it to anyone.  

“Oh, that’s okay! Letters with sincere wishes make it to us even without being mailed,” she says cheerily. 

Togame picks up on something. “Us? Who do you work for?”

She giggles. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m one of Santa’s helpers!”

Wait. Is she saying Santa is real? And they somehow received his pervy letter?! And answered it?!

“Uh, that was just a joke,” he says, mortified that anyone saw the letter. 

“Really?” she asks. Why does she sound disappointed? She holds open her sack. “What a shame. I brought all these toys for us to play with.”

Togame can’t resist peeking inside. The sack is full of sex toys! Just at a glance he can see furry red handcuffs, candy cane striped dildos, and what appears to be vibrators. He feels heat creeping into his face as he looks back at her. 

“You’re really my present from Santa?” he asks. 

She smiles so sweetly at him. “Yes! And since you specified ‘all night long’, you have me until dawn. During that time, I’m yours to do whatever you want with!”

Togame swallows. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes!” she says enthusiastically. “So do you want your present?”

The man standing before you seems hesitant. He probably didn’t expect his wish to be granted. 

Togame is even better looking in person. He’s so tall! You really hope he still wants his present. You’ve been excited since you saw his picture, and now you’re practically dripping just from thinking about the things he could do to you.  

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you sure about this?”

You nod emphatically. “Of course!”

He still seems a little unsure. It’s kind of endearing. But eventually he gives you a warm smile and says, “Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

Once there, you spread out the toys from your bag on his desk. He looks them over, glancing back at you every few seconds. 

“I can use anything I want?” he asks, picking up a huge dildo and sitting it back down. 

“That’s right,” you tell him, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes gravitate to the small red bullet vibrators. This night is for him, not you. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, looking you in the eyes.  

You blush a little from the heat of his gaze, but shake your head. “I like all of them!”

He picks up the padded handcuffs with red fur trim. “Even these?”

You hold your wrists together. “Just tell me if you want them in front or behind.”

He seems to think for a moment, then says, “Behind.”

You turn around and hold your arms behind your back. You hear his soft footsteps as he approaches, feel the warmth of his body as he stands right behind you. Then, there’s the touch of his hands as he gently secures the cuffs on your wrists. 

When you turn back around to face him, his cheeks are slightly pink as he looks at you. With your arms pulled back, your tits are jutting out more prominently, your dress struggling to stay up and over them. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, then slowly slides them down, pulling the straps of your dress down with them. Your breasts bounce free as the fabric slides down beneath them. Togame’s eyes widen slightly. He moves one hand up to cup your breast, then lightly squeezes. His thumb circles one nipple as his other hand gropes the other breast. 

You suck in a breath of air as he leans down and kisses your neck, his lips making a soft, wet trail down your collar bone and finally wrapping around a nipple, suckling lightly. 

He looks back to your face, seeing how flushed you’re getting, and ushers you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it and unbuttons his pants. 

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks, his tone still polite. 

You’re happy to oblige, dropping to your knees right in front of him, staring at his hands as they pull out a deliciously meaty cock. You lick your lips in anticipation, the handcuffs being the only thing stopping you from gripping his shaft immediately. You look up at him with your sweetest expression. 

“What do you want me to do, Jo?”

He blinks at the sudden use of his given name, perhaps a little flustered by how intimate you’re getting. But he recovers quickly, smiling down at you as he says, “Suck my cock, little Miss Santa.”

You don’t waste any time. You lean your face forward and begin licking the hard, thick organ, from base to tip. You make sure to get it nice and wet, coating it in spit before taking the entire thing into your mouth, letting it fill your throat. 

Togame shudders and grips your hair, his cock twitching in your mouth. Maybe he didn’t expect you to take him so far so quickly. 

For a moment, you pause, just letting him feel your throat constricting around him, your tongue massaging the underside of his dick. But eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just to get some air, only to plunge him right back in. This time you wrap your lips around his base and bob your head, sucking and licking as you go. 

Togame groans, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you firmly in place. You couldn’t pull back enough to let his cock slip out of your mouth if you wanted to. But why would you ever want that? He’s positively tasty, and throbbing so nicely. Such delectable precum is leaking from his tip, sliding down your throat. 

When he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back, and you open your mouth wide, letting the tip of his pulsing cock rest on your extended tongue. As he cums, his entire hot sticky load lands on your tongue and in your mouth, filling it full. 

After savoring it for a moment, you swallow it all, then lick your lips clean. Togame stares for several seconds, his face a little red. You know what you want from him, but you won’t ask directly. Instead, you look up through your lashes and ask, “Did I do good?”

He takes the hint, patting your head and saying, “Yeah, you did really good. Such a good girl for me.”

The words leave you dripping. You squirm on your knees, rubbing your thighs together. Your hands are still behind your back, your dress still pulled down to nearly your waist. 

Togame stands up and goes to the desk to get something else to play with. When he returns, he helps you to your feet and then stands behind you. He reaches around and ties a deep red blindfold around your head, blocking out your vision. You draw in a sharp breath. This is getting exciting!

He guides you back to the bed, and you hear the mattress squeak as he sits down again. Then he turns you around to face away from him and pulls you into his lap. 

You listen carefully, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. The mystery is making you nervous in the best way possible. You hear only faint sounds you can’t identify, then you feel something smooth and firm touch each of your nipples. Is this…?

A clicking sound, and then one that’s very familiar to you, one you’ve been hoping to hear. The soft hum of the small bullet vibrators! At the same moment, you feel them vibrating against your tender skin, making you automatically jerk on the cuffs. Togame must be holding them to your tits. 

You’re making little breathy sounds, not quite moans but close, leaning back against his hard chest, feeling the cozy fabric of his shirt on your bare back. He’s so warm. 

One vibrator leaves your breast, and you feel him sliding the bottom of your dress up your thighs and above your hips. Thankfully you came prepared and wore no panties tonight. 

He pulls one leg away from the other, and you move the other leg, eagerly spreading for him. Then you feel his fingers on you, stroking your pussy, slipping between the folds to smear your wetness around. 

“You’re soaked already,” he says into your ear. The feeling of his breath so close causes goosebumps to form on your neck. 

“I have been since I got here,” you say back, your voice shaky as his finger circles your clit but doesn’t touch it. 

“Really?” he asks. “Do you grant a lot of wishes like this?”

“This is my first one,” you answer. 

His voice is like a purr. “What kind of work do you usually do?”

His finger is so close to hitting the jackpot. You squirm a bit in his lap. “Ahh… I usually… wrap presents… and sort them…”

You hear him chuckle under his breath. “So why did you decide to do this?”

“Th-they showed me your picture… and you looked sad. I just wanted to give you a merry Christmas!”

There’s a pause, where he stops moving for a moment, then you hear his voice again: “I want to give you a merry Christmas too.”

Immediately after, you feel the vibrator pressed against your clit, pulsing wildly at maximum power. You cry out, your body jerking with the sudden explosive pleasure. 

You cum instantly, trembling in his arms, but he’s still holding the vibrator to your extremely sensitive clit. With your hands cuffed behind you and the blindfold on, it makes your sense of touch so much stronger, and you feel truly helpless in a way that thrills you. 

“Ahh! T-too much!” you whine, reflexively trying to scoot back. But the vibrator is relentless, and Togame’s grip on you is firm. 

“You’re so cute when you cum,” he says, his voice dripping honey. “Show me again.”

The words make your already overstimulated clit throb, and only a few minutes later, you’re cumming again. Your entire body is shaking as you moan, your hands pulling at the cuffs. 

“There you go, being so good,” he murmurs, finally pulling the vibrator away and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tight until your body stops trembling, then eases you off his lap. He unties the blindfold and lets it slip from your face, but he leaves the cuffs on. 

You look up at him. “What toy are we trying next?”

He walks over to the desk and looks over the items, then holds up a long anal bead stick. The beads are in alternating colors, red and green, and made of silicone. “This looks fun,” he says. 

You climb onto the bed, carefully since your hands are behind you, and look at him over your shoulder. “Come play with me,” you say, wiggling your ass. Your dress is just a piece of wadded fabric around your waist at this point, leaving most of your body exposed. 

Togame steps over and gets onto the bed behind you, pushing your top half forward until your face is pressing into the pillow, your ass in the air. He nudges your knees apart, and you feel him drip lube over your ass, rubbing it in and spreading it over both your holes. You hear him squeezing more out, probably onto the beaded stick, and then you feel the tip of the stick pressing against your little puckered hole. 

When the first bead slides in, you gasp. You’ve never tried this toy before, but you’ve always wanted to. The second bead slides in, then the third. There’s no pain, but the sensation is strange. Two more beads go in, and your breaths are coming faster, your heart racing.

Togame watches his adorable Santa girl twitch and quiver as he pushes more beads into her, causing her dripping pussy to clench and flutter. He’s waited as long as he can. He needs to be buried in this pretty little cunt right now. 

He positions himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip along her slit to let her know what’s coming. Her hands, cuffed behind her, are balled into fists. When ready, he pushes in, going all the way to the hilt and hearing her gasp. She’s so unbelievably tight, he almost gasps too. Maybe it’s because of the beads, but she’s clamping down on him so well he can hardly stand it. 

When he starts thrusting, she makes the sweetest sounds, little cries and moans that dance into his ears, occasionally whimpering his name. 

“Taking me so well,” he says, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place as he plunges in and out. “Good, good girl.”

She feels so fucking good around him, so soft and warm and pliable. And she’s taking him so deep with no complaints. It’s like she was made for him. 

He reaches down and grips the handle of the bead stick, then begins pulling it out by a few beads before pushing it back in. Her pussy clenches, as if it’s trying to hold onto his dick forever. 

All at once, he pulls the whole stick out in one go. She cries out, her back arching and her mouth hanging open. He thinks she just came again, and it’s making her squeeze him impossibly hard. 

He can’t hold back any longer. This pussy is just too good. With a groan, he cums, shooting everything he has into the deepest parts of her. When he eventually pulls out, gobs of his cum leak out of her, making a lurid sight to see. 

They both pant for a few moments, then he uncuffs her hands and helps her turn over.  

She’s gazing up at him with her big, pretty eyes. “What do you want to play with next?”

She looks exhausted, spent, but she’s still willing to keep going. He’d specified “all night” after all. 

“Let’s take a quick break,” he says. 

They sit beside each other on the bed, and he asks the question that’s been burning in his brain for a while now. 

“After tonight is over, will I ever see you again?”

She looks up at him. “You can if you wish for it!” She seems happy he asked. 

He smiles. “Maybe next year I’ll wish for a wife.”

She flushes, looking away to hide her embarrassment. “That sounds lovely,” she says. 

He wraps one arm around her. “You’ve made this the best Christmas of my life.”

She snuggles closer. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

The two of them sit there a little while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before going back to enjoying each other’s presents.

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime

[marauder-misprint]

would u write abt some angsty (mybe w a happy ending?) w remus, please? if possible maybe smtg like the bet trope, im soo down bad with bet tropes, 😔😔😔 im sorry if its a burden, and thank you for spending ur time reading this

You said "bet trope" and I said bet. So it's more fluff than angst... oops? I'll try to get more angst with Remus soon

Conducive

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

4.7k words

cw: fluff, lil angst,

“Moons, how is it that you’ve never been kissed, yet everyone calls you Casanova?” Sirius asks at dinner in the Great Hall one evening.

Remus raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look away from his plate.

“I respect women?” he offers. 

“We all respect women here. But come on, even Peter’s kissed Mary,” James adds.

Remus looks up at his friends. “I’m here for an education. Dumbledore was kind enough to let me be here; least I can do is focus. You three are distraction enough.”

“I just think you could do with some more… distractions,” Sirius says, waving his fork around as a prop to make his point. 

“If I wanted a female distraction, I’d have no issues obtaining it.”

“No issues, huh?” Peter asks. “Care to prove it?”

Remus shot him a glare. “Did you miss the part where I said if I wanted it?”

“I don’t see how you don’t want it.”

“Wormy’s got a point,” James says.

“Let me rephrase: If I needed a female distraction,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sure, I want it from time to time, but if anyone else found out about my furry little secret, I’d be out of here. So I’m making the most of my time.”

“No one is going to find out!” Sirius says. “Have. Some. Fun.”

“You lot found out.”

“We live with you.”

“Still. You don’t think if I got involved with someone that it would take them that long? It was hard enough lying to you. What if I start to actually like someone? It’d be impossible.”

“Then don’t like them. Just get them to like you enough to kiss them and then ditch them,” Sirius suggests, earning himself a glare from Remus.

“That just sounds cruel.”

“More cruel than you denying yourself feminine company?”

“I’m Casanova, remember? I get plenty of company.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I still think you should prove it,” Peter says. “Do what Pads suggested.”

“What?”

“Get a girl.”

“Keep her ‘round long enough to get off and then you jet. Easy ‘nough, yeah?” James clarifies for Remus, given his mildly confused look.

“No,” Remus says firmly. 

“What if we made a bet out of it?” Sirius asks, leaning forward. 

That got Remus’ attention.

“Okay, then what do I get out of it? When I win.” 

“If, and only if, you can get a girlfriend and snog the living daylights out of her, we will… uh… willingly study with you in the library for finals. We’ll be complacent participants, helping you and ourselves. As you try to drag us to do every year,” Sirius says. He pauses as the other two nod. “And if you fail, butterbeers are on you for the rest of the year.”

Remus snorts. “So if I do it, I just get company in the library and you benefit. But if I lose, I’m financially ruined?” 

“More incentive,” Peter retorts. 

“You’re on,” Remus says, offering his hand for Sirius to shake. He does. “If I wasn’t sure I could do it, I’d be asking for better terms.” 

“Wait!” James interrupts with Remus and Sirius still mid-shake. “I feel like we should pick who it has to be. Otherwise you could just ask Marlene to snog you.”

Remus makes a face. “She’s dating Dorcas, you know this.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Peter says. “Either of them would snog you if you said it was for a bet, especially if it means we,” he gestures to him, James and Sirius, “lose said bet.”

“Fine. Pick the girl. For the love of Godric, pick someone single and semi-tolerable.”

The boys scan the hall, not paying attention to house. Their eyes land on you. All three boys seemed to be in agreement before any of them voiced your name. 

“Her,” James says, pointing at you.

You were just as perpetually single as Remus, although he didn’t know what your reason for being so was. It wasn’t like boys never approached you, offering to pay for your drinks at Hogsmeade or to stand by you at the next Quidditch match, but the boys always walked away looking a bit down. You shot them down. Every single one of them.

So in the boys’ attempt to get him to prove his ability to charm a girl, they also wanted to see a miracle. From the grins on their faces, they know it’s going to be impossible.

“So you want my financial ruin?”

“I want either want butterbeer or you to get fucking laid,” Sirius says coolly. “It’s a win-win for me.”

“We said nothing about me getting laid!” Remus exclaims, panicking. “We said kiss, snog, neck, whatever you want to call it. Not laid.”

James laughs, “If you can get a snog out of her, you’re definitely getting laid.”

“I hate that I shook on this already,” Remus groans. He knows he has no way out of this now. 

---

You are blissfully unaware of the bet the Marauders have going. You have no reason to think that you are of any concern to them, besides that Remus now occasionally says hello to you in passing. If anything, it feels like the other three are purposefully avoiding you, not that that matters to you. It’s preferable that way. You had always found Remus to be the most tolerable of them, but that didn’t mean you were friends or spoke to him all that often. Right now, it meant that you said hi back to him.

You are studying in the library when Remus comes up and asks if you’d mind if he shared a table with you. There are other tables available, but you agree. You are struggling with your Transfiguration essay and if it comes to it, you’re almost positive you could ask him for help. Until then, you work near each other in silence. That is, until someone else joins your table. 

Andrew Lark, a boy in your house, sits across from you. 

“You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he asks. 

“No,” you say shortly, not looking up from your essay, although you do stop writing. You don’t want to write the wrong thing down because Andrew was talking.

“Do you want to? I’d love to take you.”

“No thank you, Andrew.”

“Come on, love. Let me take you out.”

“I have no desire to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, nor do I want to go out with you.”

“Baby, we’d have-” he starts to say.

“Lark, she said no,” Remus says calmly, having stopped working as soon as Andrew approached the table. 

Andrew shot Remus an annoyed look. “Wasn’t talking to you, Lupin.”

“I know. But you weren’t listening to her.”

“This doesn’t involve you.”

Remus scoffs. “You interrupted my studying by being here. I’d say I’m semi-involved.”

“Then sit elsewhere,” Andrew says, before turning back to you. “Last chance? It’d be more fun than you’re imagining.”

You give Remus a sideways glance. He’s looking at you, waiting for your response as much as Andrew is. 

“Surprise, surprise, Remus is right. I said no.” You give Remus a quick smile before turning back to your essay.

Andrew rolls his eyes and stands up. “Think about it, dove. My offer will always stand.”

Then he walks away. You and Remus both return to your silent working. You feel Remus’ eyes on you every once in a while; you can also tell he’s looking at you from when he pauses his writing, letting his quill just hover above the ink pot longer than a person normally would. 

“So what do you have against Hogsmeade?” he asks after a few minutes. 

You snort. “Oh, nothing really. Andrew’s been asking me to go with him for months and I’d really rather not go with him. Plus, Slughorn’s essay? Haven’t even started that.”

Remus nods with a breath of relief. “Good, I don’t know how anyone can actually not like Hogsmeade.” He pauses. “Would you like company when you work on that essay?”

The question catches you off guard. You look up at him and you’re sure the shock is evident on your face. 

“I, uh, can’t stop anyone from being in the library,” you say, feeling uncertain.

“Well, no,” he chuckles. “But if you’d rather work alone…”

You don’t respond right away; you’re considering it. Remus wasn’t a bother. You didn’t know why he would give up a Hogsmeade trip to be in the library with you though. You knew he usually accompanied his boisterous friends to the village.

“If it’s just you, I suppose company could be nice.” A small smile is playing at your lips in a way Remus has never seen before. “If you’re thinking of bringing the rest of your little gang with you, I’d rather you stay away then.”

Remus chuckles. “Those gits will be off in the village. Possibly pestering Lark.” He sends a wink your way.

You shake your head as you look back down at your essay, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face now. Remus sees it as a success. Maybe with a little persuading from him, the others would let Lark know he needed to back off of you and you’d be free from his pursuits. 

Come Saturday, you and Remus are back at the same table. Except he’s sitting across from you and reading as opposed to working on his own assignments.

Curious, you ask, “Weren’t you assigned this essay too?”

“Finished it.”

“And you don’t have anything else to work on?”

“No. That’s why I’m reading.” He flourishes his book for emphasis.

“So you gave up going to Hogsmeade for…” Your voice lilts like you’re asking a question.

“To keep you company while you work.”

“I work alone all the time. I’m usually more productive that way.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had company conducive to efficiency.”

“Who talks like that?” you laugh. “Company conducive to efficiency.”

Remus smiles at you and sets his book down. “I’m just saying! Some people are more of a distraction while others let you do your thing. James and Sirius? Distractions. Peter… He goes back and forth between the two.”

“And I suppose you’re conducive for them.”

“Most of the time. Others, I’m as bad as they are.”

He picks his book back up to continue reading and you return to your essay. The library is silent except for the scratching of your quill and the occasional turning of pages by Remus. You sneak a few glances at him when you finish a sentence or a paragraph, and you catch yourself full on staring at him when you finish. As you put your work away, you clear your throat to get his attention.

“I suppose you being here was conducive, but I feel bad that you didn’t go to Hogsmeade.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Sometimes I need a break from certain people.”

“Then let me make it up to you. Let’s go to Hogsmeade together tomorrow.” You pause and blush at what you just said. “If you want to, of course, and don’t have anything else planned. I just thought that, because you didn’t go today and tomorrow will be less busy since everyone goes today.” You feel yourself rambling which makes you blush harder.

“Yeah, okay. That’d be nice. Meet you in the Great Hall after breakfast? Or lunch? I’m really okay with either.”

“I’m not a morning person,” you say with a chuckle. “We could get lunch in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, okay. Then meet by the Grand Entrance around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan, Lupin. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you walk away from him, he can’t help but smile. This was going better than planned. He didn’t have to ask you out; you asked him. And all he had to do was not be forward about it with you. Now, he just had to work up to kissing you, and then snogging. 

You’re more nervous than you expected to be in the morning. You had never been on a date before, and you weren’t even sure if this would count as one. Your roommates were confused as to why you didn’t go to Hogsmeade yesterday with them but were going today.

“It’s just backwards!” one had tried to explain when they heard of your plan. “Everyone goes to Hogsmeade on Saturday and does homework on Sunday!”

“Which leads to Hogsmeade being packed and then the library being packed. It makes sense to go today.”

You purposefully left out that you were meeting Remus and going with him. Just as he hadn’t told his friends that he was making progress with you. For now, until something proper came out of it, this Hogsmeade visit would be something you shared only with each other.

Remus is waiting for you when you finally leave your dorm. The walk to Hogsmeade is quiet. It’s not awkward though. You’re glad he’s not trying to force conversation. You fear that would be more uncomfortable. 

“So where do you want to go first?” you ask as you arrive. 

“I don’t mind as long as we hit up Honeydukes and Three Broomsticks at some point,” he says with a shrug. 

You can’t help but think he looks a bit cute with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Start at Three Broomsticks then? Get our lunch and go from there?” you suggest. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

As expected, the pub isn’t too busy. You find a table and order food and butterbeers from Rosmerta. Then it’s just the two of you at a table. He asks about your essay that you were working on yesterday and if you think Slughorn will like it. He talks about his own. Conversation covers a lot of school, but then it drifts to your friends and Quidditch. And then to the Marauders and their pranks. Time flies by so quickly. Your plates are emptied quickly and you go through several mugs of butterbeer. You only notice how much time has gone by you glance out the window by chance and the sun is lower in the sky than you had expected.

“Oh! We need to get going if you still want to go to Honeydukes.”

Remus looks to the window and nods. “I didn’t realize the time…”

He waves down Rosmerta and hands her some galleons. You smack his shoulder gently as you exit the pub together. 

“You paid? I was the one who invited you to Hogsmeade. I should’ve paid.”

He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t the guy on a date though?”

You blush, which in turn causes him to blush. So this was a date. And you had initiated.

“Let me pay for your chocolate at least.”

“Oh, don’t go down that road,” he says with a laugh and a wide smile. “You are underestimating how much chocolate I’ll be getting.”

“Galleons worth?” 

“Galleons worth.”

“Remus Lupin! That cannot be healthy!”

“‘S not my fault my stash gets raided constantly.”

You laugh. The air is light between you. He really does get several galleons worth of chocolate; you thought he was kidding. You insist on paying for part of it. The owners of Honeydukes patiently wait for you to leave the store before locking the door behind you. The sun is set by the time you’re walking back to Hogwarts. The crescent moon is high in the night sky, bathing the path back to school in a pale light.

When you reach the castle, still standing outside, you say, “This was fun. I’m glad I got to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m glad I got to go with you.”

You feel your face heat. The romantic in you tells you, no, begs you to kiss his cheek. Tell him he’s why it was so fun. Talking over butterbeers was your favorite way to pass time and you really enjoyed getting to know him better. But you weren’t so bold. 

“Goodnight Remus,” you say before heading inside. 

He stood outside for a few minutes longer. He should have kissed your cheek. He was kicking himself for not doing so. But that might have been too bold and risked scaring you off. It was probably for the best that he didn’t. He needed to work up to it. The boys were waiting for him when he returned to his dorm.

“Where have you been all day?” James asks accusingly as soon as Remus walks through the door.

“None of your business, Mum,” Remus says, tossing the Honeydukes bag on his bed.

“Honeydukes?” Peter asks, sitting up. “You went to Hogsmeade? Just now?”

“You went to Hogsmeade without us?” James asks, putting two and two together. 

“You went yesterday,” Remus reminds him.

“You chose to stay back. Why go today?”

“Because-” he starts to say.

“You’re working on the bet, aren’t you?” Sirius cuts him off. The smile Sirius was sporting said that he knew he was right.

“Yes.”

James and Peter gasp. Sirius grins wider.

“So you going to tell us how it’s going?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Peter asks with a pout forming on his face.

“You’ll just know when I succeed.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs. “Must be going well if you’re still confident you’re going to succeed.”

---

“Andrew, for the love of Merlin, leave me alone,” you complain on your way to class.

Whatever the Marauders did to him at Hogsmeade wasn’t enough. He seemed more urgent than ever to take you on a date, even with you telling him that you weren’t interested in him in the slightest. He stands in the doorway to your class, which he isn’t in.

“Come on, just one date. It’ll be the best one you’ve ever been on!”

Remus looks up from his conversation with the boys at his desk at Andrew’s voice. He hears you groan.

“Let me into my class!”

Remus is there in a moment. 

“Lark, let the lady through,” Remus says firmly.

Andrew spins around in the doorway, still blocking it but now looking at Remus. 

“Little Lupin to the rescue? You fancy her or something?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Remus answers, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Now let her through. I think she’s made her opinions of you quite clear.”

Andrew glances at you over his shoulder. 

“Hear that, dove? Lupin likes you.”

“I’d hope so. We went on a date.”

Andrew’s arms fall so he’s not blocking the door as well and Remus pulls you through, which makes Andrew stumble slightly out of the way.

“What do you mean you went on a date?” Andrew asks indignantly. “A date? An actual date? With him?”

“That’s what I said. Care to confirm?” you ask, looking up at Remus, who is still holding your arm.

“Yeah. It was quite lovely. She’s quite lovely.” He looks down at you with a soft smile. 

Then without thinking, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Andrew looks ready to scream and a few hollers erupt from behind you. You scan the room for the source. The Marauders. You’re not too surprised at that. Of course Remus’ friends would be watching him as he came to play hero. It’s less than thirty seconds, but by the time you look back over to the door, Andrew has vanished.

“Thanks, Remus,” you breathe.

“Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone, huh?”

“Hope so.”

He walks you to your desk before returning to his own, where James pats him enthusiastically on the back. Throughout the entire lesson, you two are looking over at each other. Most of the time, when one is looking, the other isn’t. You only make eye contact with him once all lesson, which caused both of you to turn a deep shade of crimson. 

By the end of the week, Andrew stops asking you out on the daily and appears to be purposefully avoiding you and Remus. You find ways to spend more time with him, scheduling study time in the library and comparing schedules so that you can walk to your classes together. You even join him and his friends for lunch every few days. They were rather shocked the first time, but quickly turned into a welcoming group. 

It became obvious to those around you that you were seeing Remus. It came as a surprise to many people, including your friends. 

“What do you mean you’re dating Remus Lupin? When do you talk to him?”

“What do you mean you went to Hogsmeade with him? Alone?”

“When did this happen and why didn’t we know about it?”

Excuses of minding your own business and not wanting to count your chickens before they hatched echoed in your dorm. It really had come out of nowhere, but you suppose it was because Remus pursued you in a way that no one else had. He wasn’t putting you on the spot to do the things he wanted and disrupting you when you were clearly busy. He liked to be in your presence and took your opinion into consideration before suggesting things. Even better, he put Andrew Lark in his place. 

You were headed to your usual table to meet Remus for a study session; you refused to call them study dates because you knew your mind would say that you can’t be productive on a date. You laugh at your thoughts: dates are not conducive for studying. You hear Remus’ voice as you walk through the shelves, collecting some books you know you need for your Herbology assignment. You stop mid-step when you hear additional voices at your table.

“Have you snogged her yet, Moony?” Sirius asks.

“No, not yet,” he answers with a sigh. 

Not yet. You smile.

“Well, could you get on with it? You’ve been spending so much time with her. We need you for this prank.”

“You were the one to suggest the bet. Sorry I’m taking my time.”

“But you’re going to break up with her once you do, right?” Peter asks. “Complete the bet and get out before you catch feelings. That was the point of this.”

You bite your lip, hoping that somehow this wasn’t about you, that maybe Remus had a voice twin and they were talking about the other boy’s girl. You knew that it wasn’t possible, but you had to hope for a moment. But then James spoke. 

“Even better, you got Lark off her back so she owes you. She owes you a snog and then you’re free. You’ll have gotten your kiss, Casanova.”

Lark. He had only been after you for a while. And Remus had been the reason he was leaving you alone. 

You leave your hiding place within the books, stepping into their line of sight. Remus’ eyes go wide as he sees you. His heart breaks when he sees the tears in your eyes. You had heard and he knew it. 

You lock eyes with him and you shake your head. Holding the books close to your chest, you turn to leave the library. How could you work with someone who was only with you to snog you for a bet? A damn bet? 

You ignore Remus calling after you. You don’t break into a run; you have too many books in your arms to run, but you’re walking as quickly as you can. From the sound of his footsteps, he is running. Running and calling your name, saying it isn’t what you think. That the boys don’t know what they are talking about. You spin on the spot to glare at him through tears when he finally catches up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Did you or did you not ask to sit at my table in the library because of, of, of that bet?” you spit. It comes out harsh. It was supposed to. You were angry and upset.

“I did, but-”

“There’s no buts about this, Remus,” you say firmly. You’re firm but your voice is laced with sadness and uncertainty. “All of this was because of a bet. And I’m not a bet. So yeah. Go fuck yourself.”

You leave him standing in the corridor. He could’ve followed you. Some part of him knew he should have so that he could explain. 

---

You avoid Remus at all costs. He tries to hunt you down in the library, in between classes, in the Great Hall. He’s even taken to sitting outside your dorm. Your roommates step around him, muttering insults. He doesn’t blame them. If it had been anyone else doing this, he would be saying the same insults under his breath to Sirius, James and Peter. He hated himself for agreeing to the stupid bet in the first place. He should have just gone after you on his own terms. 

About a week later, you spent all day studying in the library and you were honestly surprised that Remus didn’t show up once. You missed dinner, but you didn’t mind. If you had gone to dinner, you might have run into Remus and if you were safe in the library, you were staying there until you went to bed. Except you ran into Remus while trying to go to bed. He was asleep outside your dorm’s door. You knew you should’ve just gone into your dorm and ignored him, but you were a good person and wouldn’t let him sleep like that all night. You nudge his side gently with your foot.

“Lupin,” you say softly. “Lupin, wake up.”

He stirs, rubbing his eyes. When he sees that you’re the one who woke up and not some disgruntled prefect, he jumps to his feet and hugs you. You make a startled noise at the hug.

“Please, let me explain,” he whispers.

“You have five minutes. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” he says quickly. “Thank you. Okay, so yes, it did start as a bet.”

You groan and reach for the doorknob. He puts his hand on top of yours to stop it from turning. 

“I have four minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “A bet that I couldn’t get a girl and snog her. I accepted because Sirius was being rude. Stupid, I know. But please, please, please believe me when I say the bet stopped being relevant the moment you agreed that I could keep you company in the library while you worked on your Potions essay. I wasn’t doing it just to snog you and prove to the boys that I really could get a girl.”

“And I should believe you because?”

“Because if it was just for a bet, I would’ve kissed you when we got back from Hogsmeade the first time. I would’ve snogged you in front of Andrew and the boys. Just to prove that I could do it. I would’ve been done.” He pauses, trying to read the expression on your face. “I’ve been spending so much time with you because I genuinely like you so much. I like being your boyfriend. I like being around you. I like making you smile. I like making you laugh. Yes, I’d like to snog you very much. But not for a bet. I want to snog you to feel your lips against mine. I like studying with you, I like paying for your butterbeers. I like walking around with you. I like when you hang out with my friends. I’d like to hang out with your friends.” 

He pauses his ramblings to catch his breath briefly.

“That is, if you’ll forgive me for even partaking in this stupid goddamn bet. And you somehow convince your friends to forgive me too.”

You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe. You take in Remus’ appearance. You’re used to him looking perpetually tired, but he looks exhausted, so much worse for wear than usual. His hair is a mess and clothes uncharacteristically rumpled. His expression is so genuine and sad, practically begging you to understand how much he cares for you.  

“Please. I know you’re more than a bet. So much more. The only good thing about the bet is that it actually got me to get close to you.”

“I’ll forgive you under one condition,” you say.

His face lights up and he takes a step toward you. 

“Anything. You name it and it’s done.”

You smirk. “When you do snog me, please do it in front of Lark. A little revenge on that sorry bastard.”

Remus smiles widely and nods. Then he places a gentle kiss on your lips. It only lasts a second, over as soon as it began. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He gives you an identical kiss. “One snog in front of Lark coming up.”

[cicadaknight]

"if you’re gonna call seyka a mary sue, a flawless, overly positively portrayed character, don’t you kind of have to do that to almost all the sympathetic characters?" seyka has no flaws, she is totally right on what she is doing and why even if she is breaking the law and the executive is mean with and wrong on everything he does, thats very mary sue-ish not matter what anyone says, its exactly the same as aloy in the first game

i’m assuming this second anon is you as well so i’ll add it here:

"aloy is never in a true position of authority or power with seyka, and that’s in large part because of seyka’s personality and self-assurance." it wouldn't be as jarring if she wasnt truly the only one in the whole damn game who calls Aloy out for what she does or what she doesn't tell, but instead of doing this with the companions we know from the first game; the players are forced to endure a random character (that we dont have to care about) to have that attitude. or even with new characters, zo, kotallo or alva had a thousand better introductions, better developed friendships with aloy than her supposed first romantic choice

agree to disagree, anon.

i’m not sure who you mean by “mean with and wrong with everything he does.” Rheng or Londra? But regardless, I simply don’t agree that a character needs to be DEEPLY flawed to be compelling. Nor do I think they have to be a foil to the protagonist to be compatible? Which seems like some of the argument here. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that what makes you love Varl, Zo, Kotallo, Alva, Talanah, Erend, Petra, is that they’re wrong about shit or abrasive? You’re not drawn to their compassion, strength, or persistence in the face of unbeatable odds? Or that over time they question what they believe in and commit to believing in themselves and Aloy?

I DO find Seyka to be flawed. She’s not a self-insert Mary Sue lmao. She’s flawed in much the same way Varl or Kotallo are. She’s a soldier who will prioritize her duty to her tribe over common sense and safety. She believes she’s the only one who has what it takes to get shit done, she’s arrogant and cocky, loses her patience easily. I think she’s battling with insecurities about her sister, who’s an elevated and invaluable member of their expedition, by trying desperately to prove herself by saving her.

I think you are holding Seyka to an impossible standard. I’m not gonna change your mind if you just really don’t vibe with her. But like you said, it was jarring for you to see that chemistry and dynamic between a new character and Aloy. And that seems to be the crux of it. I’d be curious if you play it again with some time to digest everything, if you still feel as strongly?

To the second anon message about Seyka being the only one to push Aloy (in this case about what she does or doesn’t know) and that you have to “endure” that from a new character. Again, agree to disagree. I don’t think the other characters had inherently better relationships with Aloy.

I 100% think all of the companions challenge Aloy and push back on her. Aloy just rolls her eyes and ignores them unless she has no other choice. Zo refuses to let her go to the sacred cave and is resistant to Aloy plowing through their way of life. Kotallo basically calls her a flaming idiot all the way from Stone’s Crest up until they get the canon. Varl CONSTANTLY calls Aloy out for shutting people out of her life. Erend very bluntly tells her she hurt his feelings and disregards people who can help her. It’s just that in this case with Seyka, Aloy’s had all of those experiences with the others which has resulted in her ability to trust and be vulnerable. She’s had an inordinate amount of character growth by the end of Singularity. She knows Seyka is worthy of sharing the burden, or at least she’s willing to take that leap of faith. And personally, I love that Seyka’s in a position where she doesn’t have to just let Aloy do whatever she’s gonna do. Seyka uniquely knows the lay of the land, and she’s confident she can make progress herself. That’s a really refreshing dynamic to explore in these games.

Again, is it really that Seyka is just an annoying, perfect, unreasonably beautiful and talented woman who you can’t stand, or are you mostly pissed Aloy has a first crush on her instead of companions we know and love?

[overcaffeinated-aro]

I got an email from my grandpa today and all the draft responses I’ve been working on in my head sound like an 18th century letter that’s going to have to travel for months to reach him.

pandemic year 5 really has me feeling like me and a very small handful of people I know are living on an entirely different plane of existence than everyone else

[victory-cookies]

I wish I could handle myself in an argument without fucking crying

[cookinguptales]

So I’ve been enjoying the Disney vs. DeSantis memes as much as anyone, but like. I do feel like a lot of people who had normal childhoods are missing some context to all this.

I was raised in the Bible Belt in a fairly fundie environment. My parents were reasonably cool about some things, compared to the rest of my family, but they certainly had their issues. But they did let me watch Disney movies, which turned out to be a point of major contention between them and my other relatives.

See, I think some people think this weird fight between Disney and fundies is new. It is very not new. I know that Disney’s attempts at inclusion in their media have been the source of a lot of mockery, but what a lot of people don’t understand is that as far as actual company policy goes, Disney has actually been an industry leader for queer rights. They’ve had policies assuring equal healthcare and partner benefits for queer employees since the early 90s.

I’m not sure how many people reading this right now remember the early 90s, but that was very much not industry standard. It was a big deal when Disney announced that non-married queer partners would be getting the same benefits as the married heterosexual ones.

Like — it went further than just saying that any unmarried partners would be eligible for spousal benefits. It straight-up said that non-same-sex partners would still need to be married to receive spousal benefits, but because same-sex partners couldn’t do that, proof that they lived together as an established couple would be enough.

In other words, it put long-term same-sex partners on a higher level than opposite-sex partners who just weren’t married yet. It put them on the exact same level as heterosexual married partners.

They weren’t the first company ever to do this, but they were super early. And they were certainly the first mainstream “family-friendly” company to do it.

Conservatives lost their damn minds.

Protests, boycotts, sermons, the whole nine yards. I can’t tell you how many books about the evils of Disney my grandmother tried to get my parents to read when I was a kid.

When we later moved to Florida, I realized just how many queer people work at Disney — because historically speaking, it’s been a company that has guaranteed them safety, non-discrimination, and equal rights. That’s when I became aware of their unofficial “Gay Days” and how Christians would show up from all over the country to protest them every year. Apparently my grandmother had been upset about these days for years, but my parents had just kind of ignored her.

Out of curiosity, I ended up reading one of the books my grandmother kept leaving at our house. And friends — it’s amazing how similar that (terrible, poorly written) rhetoric was to what people are saying these days. Disney hires gay pedophiles who want to abuse your children. Disney is trying to normalize Satanism in our beautiful, Christian America. 

Just tons of conspiracy theories in there that ranged from “a few bad things happened that weren’t actually Disney’s fault, but they did happen” to “Pocahontas is an evil movie, not because it distorts history and misrepresents indigenous life, but because it might teach children respect for nature. Which, as we all know, would cause them all to become Wiccans who believe in climate change.”

Like — please, take it from someone who knows. This weird fight between fundies and Disney is not new. This is not Disney’s first (gay) rodeo. These people have always believed that Disney is full of evil gays who are trying to groom and sexually abuse children.

The main difference now is that these beliefs are becoming mainstream. It’s not just conservative pastors who are talking about this. It’s not just church groups showing up to boycott Gay Day. Disney is starting to (reluctantly) say the quiet part out loud, and so are the Republicans. Disney is publicly supporting queer rights and announcing company-supported queer events and the Republican Party is publicly calling them pedophiles and enacting politically driven revenge.

This is important, because while this fight has always been important in the history of queer rights, it is now being magnified. The precedent that a fight like this could set is staggering. For better or for worse, we live in a corporation-driven country. I don’t like it any more than you do, and I’m not about to defend most of Disney’s business practices. But we do live in a nation where rights are largely tied to corporate approval, and the fact that we might be entering an age where even the most powerful corporations in the country are being banned from speaking out in favor of rights for marginalized people… that’s genuinely scary.

Like… I’ll just ask you this. Where do you think we’d be now, in 2023, if Disney had been prevented from promising its employees equal benefits in 1994? That was almost thirty years ago, and look how far things have come. When I looked up news articles for this post from that era, even then journalists, activists, and fundie church leaders were all talking about how a company of Disney’s prominence throwing their weight behind this movement could lead to the normalization of equal protections in this country.

The idea of it scared and thrilled people in equal parts even then. It still scares and thrills them now.

I keep seeing people say “I need them both to lose!” and I get it, I do. Disney has for sure done a lot of shit over the years. But I am begging you as a queer exvangelical to understand that no. You need Disney to win. You need Disney to wipe the fucking floor with these people.

Right now, this isn’t just a fight between a giant corporation and Ron DeSantis. This is a fight about the right of corporations to support marginalized groups. It’s a fight that ensures that companies like Disney still can offer benefits that a discriminatory government does not provide. It ensures that businesses much smaller than Disney can support activism.

Hell, it ensures that you can support activism.

The fight between weird Christian conspiracy theorists and Disney is not new, because the fight to prevent any tiny victory for marginalized groups is not new. The fight against the normalization of othered groups is not new.

That’s what they’re most afraid of. That each incremental victory will start to make marginalized groups feel safer, that each incremental victory will start to turn the tide of public opinion, that each incremental victory will eventually lead to sweeping law reform.

They’re afraid that they won’t be able to legally discriminate against us anymore.

So guys! Please. This fight, while hilarious, is also so fucking important. I am begging you to understand how old this fight is. These people always play the long game. They did it with Roe and they’re doing it with Disney.

We have! To keep! Pushing back!

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

check out my buy me a coffee!

[gildedlead]

Duke: …So, is Two-Face like, B’s ex or something?

Steph: I think it’s more of a situationship? They still seem to have some feelings going on there.

Jason: Yeah right, and get accused of cheating on Selina? I think not. They’ve been dating for as long as I can remember.

Dick: That’s…strange, cause I’m pretty sure he and Clark are married. Big Blue gave him a ring and everything.

Damian: A Kryptonite ring. One that Father keeps in a lead lined safe with the rest of the alien’s bane. Besides, everyone knows Mother’s laid her claim to him already. Only a fool would interfere with such a union.

Cass: Talia and Bruce are about as divorced as two people can be.

Tim: No, you guys are all missing the point. If we want Bruce to have a partner, we need to pick the most profitable option for us. [ pulling up a PowerPoint ] Hear. Me. Out.

—-Later, At the Watchtower-—

Oliver: Bats, why are your kids inviting me over for dinner?

[imaginaryf1shots]

Hidden | Max Verstappen

WC: 1.5K

Max x wife!reader

Summery: May has always a private person, but is he that private that he could hide his wife of 8 years and 2 year-old son.

Warnings: none

AN: This is a little something, while I’m working on two big fics

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Max Verstappen is many things, and when people ask you to describe him they always have a lot to say. He’s a great driver, at the top of his career, he’s aggressive, he’s sarcastic, definitely has an unhealthy relationship with his skinny jeans. He’s also incredibly private, not much is known about him that he doesn’t want to be known, how he does it is a mystery.

You both value your privacy, and any post made of you before he made it to F1 was deleted the second there was a possibility he would join. You were both young, and you knew how much hate some wags get and you didn’t want that. While Max was off racing, you were back home finishing your studies, the moment you finished high school and you were both 18 you got married. A small wedding with only family and very close friends in attendance. Some of your families were against it at first, saying you’re too young, too naive but you never listened to them. Both you and Max knew what you wanted, and there was not stopping you from getting what you wanted.

You finished Uni and when Max moved to Monaco you did too, you met some of the drivers, the ones close to Max, you met some of the team that were also close to him. And you even attended a few races, but no one paid you any attention, thinking you’re just a fan.

However the last time you made it to a race was well over a year and a half ago, you gave birth to your baby boy last winter, and after a hard delivery and a long recovery, where Max stuck by your side through it all. Your boy is almost 2 and he misses Max every time he’s away from home.

”Are you sure this is the right time?” Max asked you as you got yourself ready, Karel happily playing with his toys next to Max on the bed.

“I mean we’ve been married for 8 years now, and dating for three before that.” You point out and finish the last touches to your make-up. “We have a son and I want him to grow up seeing you do what you love to do, I don’t know when you actually want to retire, so let him see you do it before it’s too late.”

You walk over to your husband and sit in front of him with a smile.

”You’re right.” Max leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, that leaves you craving for more, Max pulls back leaving you chasing after his lips. The dutch driver laughs and lets you close the gap, your lips meeting for a bit longer, before you have to pull back or things would escalate.

“Don't forget your ring.”

“Already wearing it.”

Walking in the paddock with your son on your hip and your hand in Max’s turned a few heads for sure. It was the tack of the paddock, Max has a girlfriend and a son? There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that the boy you’re holding is anyones’s but Max, he’s a literal mini Max, with the small red bull merch and everything.

”Oh my god! Loca.” Lando said seeing you both, your son wiggles in your arms. He loves Lando who he sees a lot when you’re all in Monaco. Lando is one of the few people who knew about you for so long and he’s seen Karel mere days after he was born. “Come to uncle, Lala.” Karel leans out of your arms and easily goes to Lando’s. “I didn’t know you guys were bringing him today.”

“We weren’t 100% sure.” Max explains and you give him a look. “Okay, I wasn't 100% sure I’d want to bring him.”

”Well, I’m for one glad that you did.” Lando said entertaining your son.

”That makes the two of us.” You say smiling, as Max pulls you closer to his side.

After Max is sure you and Karel are comfortable at RedBull, he goes off to do his round of interviews and media duties. And it's just his luck that, he's on the panel today.

And it didn't take long before he was being questioned about his family.

“Question to Max, you seem happier today, does that possibly have something to do with your ring and those that came with you today?” Max chuckles, he looks at his wedding ring. On the panel today with him, Charles who knows about his family, Lewis who has no idea, Oscar who has no idea and Pierre who has a suspicion but hasn't been confirmed by Charles.

“Eh, if you're talking about this ring, yes. My son is here for the first time, he's finally old enough to come.” Max is smiling but just because his family came means he's suddenly open with the press and will spill everything.

“You have a son?” Lewis asked confused the gossip hadn't reached Mercedes yet.

“I'm not over the ring, you're married?” Pierre asked, Oscar was looking super confused at the RedBull driver, he heard Lando talking about Max and a child and wife but he thought it was the other Max not this Max.

“Karel's here?” Charles asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I have a son, he's almost 2 and I'm married.” Max said as if he didn't Just drop the biggest news in F1 at the moment.

“You knew about it?” Pierre asked his friend feeling left out, Charles looked cheapish and shrugged.

“It was a secret mate.”

After the panel the drivers waited for Max to ask him some more questions.

“When were you married?”

“Did you get married because of the kid?”

“What's his name?”

“Why did you hide them?”

”When can we see him?”

and so on and so forth, Max knew that this would cause quite a stir in the media but he had no idea the other drivers would be interested.

”Okay calm down everyone, let the man speak.” Lando, the latest person to join the circle said. He wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulder. ”Let me answer the oblivious stuff. His name’s Karel, he was born during the winter break of last year, he’s a carbon copy of Max, and yeah, I knew about everything for a few years.”

Lando looked so smug with himself for being in the know.

”And you’re married? Never saw you wearing a ring before.”

“Yeah, got married when we were 18-“

”EIGHTEEN!!” There was a gasps and repetition to the number 18.

”Mate, that’s over 8 years ago.” Pierre said with wide eyes, he’s been Max’s teammate and he was married and he had no idea.

”Yeah, we were dating for 3 years before that, and decided to just do it.” Max explains, he was itching to get back to the garage and see his family. But he had to stand there for a few more minutes to answer all their questions, which he was comfortable with anyways.

You could see a few of the drivers shaking their heads as they dispersed from the circle in disbelief. The gossip and new information was hot, it will be all they can talk about this weekend.

You were out of his driver’s room, and standing beside Max’s car talking with a mechanic as Karel was looking at his dad’s car in fascination. It’s the car he saw every week on the TV.

“Hey.” Max greeted coming in and giving you a quick kiss, he took Karel from your arms and kisses his cheek. “How’s everything?”

”Good, Karel wants to get in the car.” You inform your husband, smiling as your son nodded his head furiously.

”Dada, car.” Karel says cutely and points at his father’s car.

”You can sit baby, don’t think you’ll see anything but you can sit.” Max says and places his child into the cockpit, RedBull cameras snap pictures and take videos.

”Future RedBull champion in the making.” You tease Max and grin, Max had this adoration look on his face. “You should get in and put him on your legs so he can see.”

Max does as you say, he hands you Karel, who you shower with kisses making him giggle and push your face away. Max gets in and you hand him Karel who he places on his lap, the child now able to see out of the car.

”Here Max.” One of the mechanics hand him the steering wheel, and Max puts it in.

”Dada, drive.” Karel says and takes a hold of the steering wheel, Max helps him turn it right and left, it’s. too heavy for him to do it alone. You take out your phone and also film this moment.

If there was ever doubt about bringing Karel, just seeing them making memories and enjoying themselves proves that it’s the right thing to do. There’s no guarantee for how long Max will stay in F1, the motorsport is forever changing and you’ve always wanted Max to make these memories with your son. And if Karel continued showing interest in cars as he does now, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll be back at karting tracks soon enough, and replete the cycle that you went through with Max with your son.

Max looks at you and smiles, you couldn’t help but lean over and press your lips to his, in a sweet and short kiss.

”It’s good that I can kiss you whenever now.” You comment and wink at Max before you pull back.

“Lucky me.”

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

[norrisainz33]

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it’s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

view all 776 comments

user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

ynverstappen has made a post 🔒

liked by carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, interiordesignbyyn and 201 others

ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

view all 35 comments

carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

maxverstappen1 has made a post

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maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

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user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

ynverstappen has added to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynverstappen, redbullracing, carmenmundt, charlesleclerc, and 754,984 others

maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

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user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

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user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[ellecdc]

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?” 

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on. 

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.” 

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue. 

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.” 

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She’s…okay?” 

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.” 

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.” 

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself. 

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else. 

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it. 

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly. 

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden. 

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat. 

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes. 

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding. 

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?” 

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face. 

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.” 

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently. 

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him? 

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property. 

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant. 

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either. 

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too. 

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could. 

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. 

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew. 

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war. 

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed. 

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way? 

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war. 

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames. 

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this? 

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?” 

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney. 

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.” 

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.” 

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly. 

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you. 

“I love Killarney!” 

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway. 

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!” 

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you. 

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.” 

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers. 

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason. 

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by. 

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson. 

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan. 

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.” 

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room. 

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well. 

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance. 

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then. 

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?” 

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you. 

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you. 

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew. 

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.” 

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?” 

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.” 

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.” 

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.” 

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house. 

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds. 

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?” 

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended. 

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you. 

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him. 

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.” 

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror. 

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.” 

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.” 

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?” 

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump. 

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.” 

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him. 

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him. 

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically. 

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before. 

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is” You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy. 

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.” 

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.” 

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet. 

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.” 

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.” 

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you. 

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not. 

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months. 

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[starryjake]

revenge | s.j

in which you get your revenge on jake after the time he overstimulated you with a vibrator.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: sub jake, use of sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, drooling and crying kinda, cumming multiple times, kinda bondage (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was so pretty. absolutely exhausted jake who just wanted to cuddle with you and go to sleep was too, too pretty.

you just had to have your fun with him.

besides, he should’ve seen it coming. he’d done the same thing to you last week.

you were tired from a long day of work and classes and jake thought it was the perfect time to absolutely torture you with a vibrator. he made you cum so many times, you’d lost count, but you were so oversensitive that it hurt.

that night, you couldn’t wait to get your revenge.

and then it was time: when jake was so sleepy and dazed, bound to go along with what you say until he would realize what was happening.

“baby,” he said softly as you started nipping his jawline, clearly trying to get his attention. “i’m too sleepy.”

“i know,” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his neck, “but i wanna have some fun.”

jake looked down at you, his sweet, sweet girl. he never wanted to deny you of the things you wanted, even when he was as tired as he was.

“i just don’t know if i can do anything, sweetheart,” he said. “you can hump me or ride my thigh if you want. just don’t be mad if i fall asleep.”

“no, jake,” you whined, trailing your hand down his bare torso. “you need to have some fun with me too.”

you grabbed his cheek and attached your lips to his before he could even realize you were doing it. he instantly melted into the kiss, sighing against your lips and bringing his hands up to your hair.

“so needy,” he mumbled against your mouth.

he couldn’t see it since his eyes were closed, but you rolled your eyes. you were needy, sure. needy to see him get what was coming for him.

testing, you dragged your hand down to cup his bulge, feeling if he was hard yet. you weren’t surprised to find that he was. it never took him very long, even when he insisted he was too tired.

you stroked your hand up and down his clothed erection for a minute, getting him worked up enough that he would actually want to cum and take back what he said about being too tired.

you knew he was at that point when you pulled away from him entirely and he pouted at you, his facial expression asking why you stopped.

saying nothing, you reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the fully charged bullet vibrator he’d used on you last week. jake’s face remained expressionless, not catching on to what was going on. he really was tired.

you set it on the bed and went back over to jake, pulling his pants down to his knees. he’d forgone underwear since he was just going to sleep, his cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. he was fully hard, his tip a light pink color and drooling a bit of pre cum.

for a moment there, distracted by the sight of his dick, you forgot all about your plan for the vibrator. you wrapped your hand around his shaft and started slowly jerking him off, watching his face contort with pleasure.

it was only when you felt him twitch in your grip that you remembered your mission.

you let go of him, much to his displeasure, picking the vibrator back up. he watched you turn it on, the humming sound of it suddenly filling your shared bedroom.

“what are you doing?” he whined, lolling his head to the side. “just make me cum and let me go to sleep.”

you scoffed. he was such a brat, it only made you want to use it on him even more.

“i will make you cum,” you assured. “just close your eyes.”

“i’ll fall asleep if i close ‘em,” he said.

“you won’t,” you assured him.

he sighed and closed his eyes, immediately becoming more relaxed. his shoulders slumped and his facial features softened.

you didn’t waste any time and brought the little pink vibrator right to the tip of his leaking cock.

jake jolted in shock, his eyes flying open.

“what the hell?” he almost yelled. “what are you doing?”

“having fun,” you answered.

he reached out to grab your wrist but you stopped him with a menacing glare.

“try to stop me and i’ll tie your hands up,” you warned.

“y/n, please,” jake huffed, staring down at you running the vibrator around his tip. “you’re not using your vibrator on me.”

“you did it to me first,” you reminded him. “you used it on me until i was shaking and begging you to stop. and i’ve been thinking about getting back at you everyday since.”

“i’m sorry!” jake cried out, tossing his head back in either frustration or pleasure, or both.

he couldn’t deny that it felt good. for such a small vibrator, the pressure was there. he could feel it intensely pulsating against his tip, pushing out more and more beads of clear precum. you’d only just begun and he was already so messy.

“i’m sure,” you mumbled, gathering some of the precum with your other hand.

jake bit his lip, feeling a warmth spread in his stomach and he knew he was already close. it hadn’t been very long but his sensations were heightened from his exhaustion.

“i’m close,” he told you.

you didn’t stop or slow down. in fact, you ran the vibrator down from his tip to his shaft and back up, his balls tightening from the unfamiliar sensation. his back arched in a way that was so pretty, your eyes widening from how affected he was by the vibrator.

“go ahead,” you said. “go ahead and cum for me.”

with that, his jaw fell slack and he groaned loudly as ropes of cum spurted out from his tip, which was a slightly darker pink than it’d been when you started.

“mmm, fuck,” he moaned, head tossed back and hips thrusting up slightly to ride out his high. “oh, yeah.”

a sheen of sweat covered his chest and his rosy cheeks. his chest rose and fell rapidly with little gasps of air. he came for longer than you imagined he would considering you’d only just started, but you assumed it was because he’d never had a vibrator used on him before.

you turned the vibrator off for a moment, taking in the state of jake before you. a puddle of his cloudy cum coated his stomach and his eyes were shut. his chest rose and fell less rapidly, telling you that he was finally calming down.

“jake?” you said after a minute.

he hummed, his eyes still closed. it was clear he was right on the brink of falling asleep.

to keep him from doing so, you turned the vibrator back on and held it against the underside of his cock below his tip, his most sensitive spot.

he jolted, eyes flying open like they had before.

“oh, fuck,” he moaned, grabbing your wrist to try and stop you again. “please. i can’t.”

“you can,” you assured him, holding the vibrator and his cock all in your one hand.

“please,” he cried. “it’s too much. i’m too sensitive, y/n.”

“you’re okay,” you responded, thinking about how sensitive you were when he did the same thing to you.

“oh my god,” he nearly sobbed. “‘m cumming.”

it was so, so quick. only a minute in and he was already shooting out more ropes of cum, landing on top of the puddle that was already there, creating an even bigger mess of himself.

he whimpered, entirely shoving your hand off of him to give himself a break.

“what’d i say?” you asked, demeanor darkening.

“you’re not tying me up,” he declared, like he was in charge.

“wanna bet?”

jake’s big brown eyes widened, watching as you reached into the drawer again to pull out the silk rope. you certainly weren’t afraid to use it on him, especially if he was going to be pushing your hands off.

“don’t,” he begged. “please.”

“then stop trying to push me off,” you said sternly.

“but it’s too much,” he whined.

he was already keeping a close eye on your hand gripping the vibrator, weary for when were going to bring it back to his cock again. it almost made you want to laugh.

“you can do it,” you said. “you can be good for me, yeah?”

he bit his lower lip, hanging his head.

you brought the vibrator back to his cock, turning it onto the next highest setting from before. his poor cock jake gasped, instinctively grabbing onto your wrist again despite what you’d just told him.

“jake,” you sighed, growing frustrated.

“i’m sorry!” he said, immediately retreating his hand.

you set the vibrator aside and grabbed the silk rope. you grabbed his hands and pushed them together, tying the rope around them tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.

jake had a little pout on his face like a child who’d just gotten scolded after getting in trouble. it filled your body with warmth, how cute he was.

“i just wanna make you feel good,” you reasoned, pressing the vibrator onto his slit.

he hissed, pushing his hips up. his abs clenched, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face from the intensity of the vibrator and from already cumming twice.

“i know, baby,” he said while exhaling shakily. “it’s just…a lot.”

“but i know you can do it,” you cooed, dragging the vibrator down a vein on his dick.

he clenched his jaw, the mixture of pain and pleasure so overwhelming that it was clouding his mind, slowly turning him dumb.

“i can’t,” he mumbled pathetically. “it feels so fucking good though.”

“i know, honey,” you cooed softly.

you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him prettier. his eyes were glazed over, his cheeks and ears a bright pink, and completely covered in his own cum. you wanted to ruin him, make a mess out of your tired boyfriend.

he tried to squeeze the bedsheets, but he was so weak. he couldn’t express his pleasure other than desperate moans.

he didn’t even warn you the next time he came. it just started coming out out his red, used tip, drooling out slowly in comparison to the sharp ropes that were spurting out before.

you were were pretty sure you saw a tear a slip down his face and were certain that he was drooling. he moaned shamelessly, so out of it that he felt like he was dreaming. he’d never felt so fucked out in his life.

you kept the vibrator pressed against him while he came and didn’t remove it this time to let him calm down.

“oh my god,” he slurred. “baby, pl—oh fuck. i’m cumming again.”

less than 30 seconds than cumming before and he was already cumming again, which you didn’t even know was possible.

his load was smaller, but his reaction was bigger. he threw his head back, exposing his pretty neck. his entire body tensed and the prettiest, most desperate moans and whimpers came tumbling out past his lips, swollen from biting and drooling.

“fuck, i can’t stop,” he moaned.

you watched him, feeling the wetness pool in your panties from how beautiful of a sight it was.

the veins in his body throbbed, his muscles clenched, and he just a beautiful mess. his cock was drenched in his own cum, the vibrator slipping against him.

you caressed his leg, removing the vibrator from his spent cock. he let out a groan of relief from you finally pulling it away, of giving him a moment to breathe.

his eyes were closed, his entire body limp. you lifted his hands in order to untie the silk rope, setting his hands free.

you sat up on your knees, caressing his face until he opened his eyes again, looking up at you.

“you okay?” you asked, your thumb brushing his cheek.

“mhm,” he mumbled, even more tired than he was before. “that was fucking…insane.”

“was it too much?” you wondered, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to start cleaning him up.

“yeah,” he said, “in the best way possible.”

you chuckled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.

“go to sleep, okay?” you said.

“but can we cuddle?” he asked sweetly.

“yes, we can cuddle,” you responded.

“and can i be little spoon?” he asked.

“yes, jake.”

-

screaming. shoutout to the anon who requested this, i loved the idea so much! sub jake just….don’t get me started actually!

[emmyrosee]

Imagine having a kid with Sukuna and him urging you to have a day out after giving birth and taking care of the baby so you can have a fun stress free day with friends, and then him having a daddy daughter date. I thought it’s cute 🥰

oh… oh you KNOW HOW I FEEEEEEEEL ABOUT A DAD!AU (bro this got so long im sO SORRY-)

———

“Okay, there’s three bottles of milk in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

“And her melts are in the cabinet!”

“I know, I live here too.”

“Oh! And her stuffed lamb is her favorite to nap with-“

“Babe,” Sukuna laughs, wrapping an arm around you. In his other arm, Akiara is held securely, with an arm under her thighs to keep her perched against his chest, the pacifier in her mouth bouncing as she rattles a small toy in her hands. “I got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”

“I’m not going to call you. Go have fun,” he encourages. Deep down, he knows you’re terrified to leave the baby with anyone for more than 15 minutes, always keeping her in close proximity and within earshot. The farthest you’ve gone is to shower while Sukuna indulges with tummy time, and it seems that every time, you’re surprised the house hasn’t crumbled in the brief period.

But Akiara is five months now. And your friends begged you to come shopping with them, missing you from outings with the group. Sukuna knows you trust him implicitly, but your separation anxiety is physically felt in the air this point. He pulls you in for a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “go. If the house catches on fire, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I can handle a few hours with my own spawn.” You tense slightly, and he offers you a stern look, “do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then let me take care of everything. Go.”

You offer him a shaky sigh and make your way over to Akiara in his arms, “mommy loves you so much, okay?” You whisper. She babbles and grabs your hair, and Sukuna can see the nervous tears welling up. “I’ll be home in two hours tops.”

“Don’t time yourself,” he chuckles. “Go with your girlfriends. I gave you the credit card, go buy some clothes, or a necklace, or those expensive ass pastries you love so much.” Then, he nods his head towards the door, “scram. Before you cry your mascara off.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Okay-“ you blow them both a few kisses as you slowly make your way to the door, “I love you both so much. Behave. Oh, and nap time is at 1:30-“

“Babe. Go,” he snickers. He watches as you open the door and walk backwards out, your eyes focused on the two of them until the door shuts fully, keeping you outside and them on the inside. Sukuna sighs in relief and he adjusts Akiara to be held arms length, “you, stinky girl, need a bath,” he hums, and when the little girl coos, he brings her tiny body up to his mouth to playfully bite her chubby belly, hiccupy laughter filling the air briefly before he pulls a face of disgust and holds her back out. “Yeah. You stink. Like a lot.”

Sukuna wastes no time in setting up her bathtub and cleansing the tiny child with her soaps, letting her splash the warm water for some time until she reaches up for him. He barely gets her out of the tub and into a towel before his phone buzzes wildly. He sighs and answers it, “do I have to block your number?”

“No!” You whine. “I just wanted to see how things were going. I just got to the restaurant, wanted to make sure everything was okay before I ate.”

“Well the dog got out, I broke a vase and our kid went to college, so not great,” he says flatly, and when you huff in annoyance, and smirks, “everything is fine. She just had a bath, I’m trying to dry her off, and then we’re going to watch some of those dancing fruits she likes so much. Goodbye.”

“Wait- you bathed her before you fed her?” You ask.

He pulls his mouth into a straight line, “yes. Because she smelt like shit fart-“

“Sukuna!” You snap.

“If I have to bathe her again, I will. It’s not the end of the world,” he tries to soothe. When you click your tongue he chuckles again. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you say, ending the phone call. He pockets the device and looks down at his child. “Shes your mother alright,” he says. His daughter merely babbles and chews on her fingers. He gets her settled into a clean diaper before hoisting her back and onto his hip, making his way to the living room, resting her on his massive stomach and clicking on the TV for some entertainment. There’s a baseball game on, surely you won’t mind if he indulges while his baby lays on his chest.

The colors are good stimulation.

“Who you got money on?” He asks Akiara, who blinks eyes like yours up at him. When she smiles a gummy smile, he shrugs, “I don’t know. They’ve got a really good pitcher.” His thick fingers gently stroke up and down her spine, so gently and warm that he feels Akiara’s breathing slowly even out, his little girl falling asleep on his chest. He winces, he knows you’re not going to be thrilled about an early nap time, but who the hell is he to wake a sleeping baby?

A sleeping baby who sleeps for hours. You’re going to be pissed at him.

By the time the game is over, Akiara is still fast asleep on his chest, tiny hands balled into fists as her long lashes lay on her cheeks. Sukuna’s gotta give you credit, you haven’t called or texted since her bath, and now it’s well into four hours since you’ve left and you’re still out with your friends. He’s proud of you.

He’s not sure how long in total Akiara was sleeping for, but not long after the game, she slowly twitches awake, eyes fluttering open before fixating on him. He watches fondly as her body slowly wakes up, starting with her sleepy eyes that blink open, followed by her mouth which opens to let out the smallest yawn.

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, gently cradling the back of her head. “Was that a good nap?” Akiara merely thunks her head back against his chest in response. He kisses her head softly before standing up, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the prepared bottles from the fridge. He pops it in her mouth, where her tiny fists assist him in holding it. The child drinks the milk happily, wide eyes blinking as she downs the beverage hungrily. He smirks, “definitely my kid.”

With that, you come home.

He can tell by the jingling of keys you’re trying to hurry in as fast as possible, and he snickers at your struggle. Once the door finally creaks open, you haul your bags into the home and kick the door shut, smiling as your eyes land on your little family. “Hey you.”

“What’s up?” He hums, kissing you as you get close. “How was it?”

“It was great!” You squeal, and he can’t fight the way his heart squeezes at your excitement. “I got some new dresses, a pair of heels, some perfumes- oh, and I got you a cologne-“

“That’s my girl,” he says, but he can tell your attention is focused on the small girl he’s currently burping, and he shrugs, “you want to take over?”

When you nod sheepishly, he gently passes Akiara over to you, and you coo down at her, “hi, Mumma’s girl,” you coo, and she burps loudly in your face. “Well excuse you!”

Sukuna can’t fight the laughter that barks from his throat, snickers tearing through until you’re smiling and shaking your head, and he pulls you in for another hug.

He loves that his small family fits in his arms.