#okay adding this to my list of things to watch

[littlelamy]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTjsS7tKn/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTjsSEJN8/

Babes I need you to recreate this with boyfriend!Rafe Cameron and girlfriend!sweetheart!reader I’m begginggggg I need it soo baddd!!😫

you were already giggling before he even started reading. lying flat on your back with your phone pointed at him, front camera flipped, recording while rafe sat shirtless at the edge of the bed with your notes app open, “just read ‘em out loud.”

he looked down at the screen, one eyebrow rising. “you’ve been keeping a list?”

“for accountability,” you said sweetly, “emotional support documentation.”

he rolled his eyes, “you’re literally the most dramatic person i’ve ever met.”

“and now the internet will know too,” you chirped, nudging his thigh with your foot. “come on, rafe..first one.” he sighed, tilted the phone toward him, and read.

“quote: ‘you look really pretty today.’”

you beamed, “uh uh that's not all—”

he held up a finger, “and then i followed it with, ‘you always look good, but today it’s like you tried.’” you grimace pushing the camera towards him to get his full reaction. “that was me noticing effort,” he said defensively. “you had that little hair bow on. the sparkly one that looks like a cupcake.”

“you insinuated i look like a slob every other day.”

he smirked, “i didn’t say that...you said that.”

you groaned, tossing your head back onto the pillow. “next one, meanie.”

he scrolled and read the next line, already smiling. “‘this outfit is very….you.’”

“see? see?!” you sat up halfway, pointing accusingly. “you acted like i was wearing a hideous costume. ”

“you were in that sheer heart mesh thing,” he said, laughing. “the one with the rhinestone pasties.”

“it was a surprise for you! and i didn't know you planned a lunch date.” you hid your face in your hands. “ugh justice for me. i am a victim.”

he scrolled again on to the next one, chuckling. “‘i didn’t think you could eat that many pancakes in one sitting.’” shaking your head, he held his hands up in defense. “my reaction was shock. you stacked them, baby, like a tower. i thought the top one was gonna tip.”

you let out a dramatic whine. “you insulted my pancake tower and my appetite in the same breath!”

he leaned over and kissed your forehead. “baby..you eat like a competitive wrestler. i love it tho.”

you blinked at the camera, moving the camera to face you and then back to him, “you hear that? love.”

rafe kept scrolling. “‘you remind me of a poodle in one of those dog shows, but if it couldn’t stop talking.’” he pauses looks dead into the camera, then start cracking up. “okay now, wait, that one had context,” he said quickly, already laughing.

“you compared me to a dog!”

“a million-dollar show dog! the fancy kind.” you tackled him with a pillow, whacking his shoulder as you both broke down laughing.

“you cannot justify that,” you said through giggles.

“you’re literally proving my point,” he said, wheezing. “you’re all bark and giggles.”

you rolled onto your back again, still laughing as he looked at the camera, face softening. “but she looks pretty every day,” he said, voice lower now. “not just when she tries.”

your laughter slowed as you peeked at him through your lashes. “wait..that was actually sweet.”

he kissed your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw. “you know i think you’re perfect, right?”

you smiled up at him,“hmph, say that to the camera.”

he looked right into the lens and said, “i am completely in love with this girl. she’s the sweetest thing in my entire life, and if she ever stops letting me buy her clothes and kiss her dumb sparkly lip gloss mouth, i’d probably die.”

you leaned in and kissing his cheek then lips. but just before you ended the video, he added, “also, she did eat eight pancakes..like a fucking beast.” you shrieked, grabbing a pillow and hit him again.

and then posted it, with the caption: "very rude @/rcameron"

top comment: 'tell him watch his tone'

second top comment: 'he’s learning girlll keep on training him!!!!'

rafe liked both and then ordered you the sparkly heart dress again.

[femmesport]

Almost Something - Chapter Two

warnings: none besides language i suppose?? an: this is a bit jumpy, but i am just trying to set the pacing and build up the characters and friendships a bit. i have really appreciated all the love y'all have been showing this fic!! also, i literally needed amari to be in this fic so thanks for allowing me that 😭 wc: 3k

Merely a drink. That was all Paige had last night, and yet she woke up feeling like she had been hit by a freight train or two. Her head was pounding and her eyes were red rimmed with a disgusting dryness. A heavy nausea lingered in the back of her throat.

Paige was wholly and unequivocally fucked. Like harboring potential feelings for the one person she shouldn’t level of fucked.

Paige sighed and pushed herself out of bed as if her body weighed a ton. She barely was able to push her glasses up her face and winced as she truly was able to take a look around her mess of a room.

Walking out into the living room, Paige heard muffled conversations around the table. Upon her emergence, her friends stopped talking and their eyes settled on her in the sympathetic way that made her skin crawl.

“Good morning,” Paige headed to the cabinet grabbing cereal, “what time are you guys heading to practice?”

“P,” Caroline started and Paige couldn’t have that.

“I was thinking of heading out right after breakfast,” Paige hurried through pouring her cereal and adding milk.

“P,” this time it was Aubrey and far more firm, “sit down.”

Aubrey’s eyes point to the chair sitting across from them.

Paige sighed and brought her things to the seat slouching down and hoping for the floor to swallow her whole. She could do a lot of things but having her friends stare at her as if she were a fragile thing was not on that list.

“Listen, you can lie to yourself, you can lie to her, but clearly things are not getting better. You need an outlet, you need to tell us what is going on” Caroline explains in a firm yet soft tone.

Paige’s eyes drop to her bowl and the tears have found their way to her eyes again.

“I don’t know when it happened” Paige whispers out and her voice is so weak that she winces at the sound.

“I don’t know when I started feeling this way, or when she started meaning that much to me” Paige put her elbows on the table and pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes trying to hide.

“P,” Amari starts softly, “is it possible that it has always been that way?” Paige winces and lets out a sound that sounded an awful lot like a sob.

“I don’t know.. I don’t know” Paige whispers her voice laced thickly with raw wet emotion.

“I feel like the world’s worst friend, I am sitting here crying and hurt because my best friend is going out and trying things to experience happiness” Paige voices her feelings and Aubrey sighs at that.

“P, you know it is not like that. You are okay with her finding happiness but you can also want your own” Caroline offers gently.

The pity and gentleness of their tones rattles Paige to her core. Her stone walls are quickly falling apart.

“Listen, I just don’t want anyone to look at me differently or treat me like I am some delicate thing on the verge of breaking” Paige lifts her head and her eyes are red rimmed and filled with a bone deep exhaustion.

“You’re not different or on the verge of breaking” Caroline replies, “we’re just worried.”

“I know and it is unfair of me to hate that when I would be doing the exact same, but damn” Paige’s eyes attempt to convey the feelings that she can’t say.

The room is silent and her friends search her face for any kind of a sign that there was more that she would say. When they came across nothing, they did what they did best. They did normal.

“I have classes until noon,” Amari says, looking down at her watch.

Caroline nods and then directs her attention back to her breakfast. “We can leave for practice in thirty minutes, Aubrey and I were going to walk together. Want to join?” Paige nods and lets the world continue on around her.

Her morning remained relatively silent. The kind of silence that is heavy and loaded, but the silence no one is addressing. 

By the time they left for practice, the trio had only managed a few words and acknowledgements.

The silence around her was far more soothing than her brain which seemed to get louder and more unbearable by the time they walked into the locker rooms. The silence around her was shattered by the boisterous laughter and chatter that was filled by her teammates.

Paige tried to join in. She tried laughing with her teammates and joining in on meaningless conversations. She wanted so badly for everything to be and feel normal.

And, to her credit, it did work for a bit. That was all shattered as Azzi, her best friend, entered the locker room.

Paige had made eye contact and Azzi simply smiled before heading in her direction. Normal was only so possible when forced proximity was the reality. 

Paige had shot up from her seat at her locker. She tried to be normal when muttering something about stretches and shooting practice, but her voice sounded off to her ears and her teammates' eyes lingered a moment too long.

Azzi frowned but nodded while the rest of their teammates continued on.

Paige joined a few of the underclassmen on the court for their stretches before grabbing a ball. The ball felt like lead in her hands and her body felt disoriented. Paige had been known for her ball control and having a strong shot. Today, she noted, this would not be the case. Every touch on the ball was off, her hands lingered in the wrong spots, her feet would land off and a moment late.

More teammates were joining the court and Paige’s frustration was growing. Not doing well was one thing. Not doing well and letting everyone see it, well that was an entirely different beast.

Paige tried one more shot that simply hit the rim and rode around before falling to the side. She sighed and stepped off the court and towards her water bottle.

“My shot is shit today” she groans and she slouches into the chair beside KK.

“P Boogers has an off day,” KK smirks looking in Paige’s direction, “who knew it was possible?”

Paige huffs a laugh and looks up seeing Azzi across the court. Her shots were beautiful. The way she handled the ball and the grace she held was much like watching a performance. She was graceful and appeared weightless on her feet.

Azzi looked over after making a shot and just smiled brightly at Paige. Paige tried to smile in return, but her breath had caught and she is sure she looked more pained than anything else.

The moment is short lived before the team is being called over in groups to split off and run through drills. The intensity that comes with practice allowed Paige to breathe without the insistent hum of her brian working over time. 

The first drill allowed Paige to take a step back. She focused on her mindset and getting better footwork to make up for her struggling handles. Her efforts were clean and tight. It was almost impossible to notice anything wrong. Almost.

The next drill required her and Azzi to work together. Paige was fine. Really. Well, she was fine. 

She was fine until she made eye contact with Azzi. Azzi had her normal game face that was calm, fierce, and wholly unpredictable. Paige tried feeding the ball up to her, but the ball landed slightly left of where she intended. 

The touch wasn’t right for the play she had intended. Azzi noticed. She smiled reassuringly at Paige and they tried running it again.

This time, the ball went too far forward, and it was quickly turned over. Paige huffed out in frustration, but still, Azzi smiled. Though this time it was slightly strained.

The third time was by far the worst. The ball landed close enough to Azzi, but not with enough space for her to have a clean shot. Azzi quickly turned to pass the ball to Paige, and Paige was able to get a hand on it and turn it over to Sarah who was able to shoot.

“Thank God” Paige groans. This drill had been messy and she was feeling the frustration of it all.

“P, you good?” Azzi stepped up to ask with a concerned expression that showed she was just as frustrated, “you normally have a pretty good read on me, but that was all over the place.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but the idea that she didn’t have a good read on Azzi served no purpose except further upsetting Paige. “You were never making it down far enough” Paige sighs out deflecting.

Azzi’s face fell at that. “I am not the one with consistent turn overs here, let’s clean it up.” She walked away and Paige groaned out again.

Geno had called her over and she didn’t have time to linger on what Azzi was saying.

“Paige, what the hell was that?” he grits out, hands flailing in the direction of the court, “you two have some of the best chemistry, and now you guys can’t even complete a simple pass?”

Paige felt his frustration tenfold. She kept her head down but nodded with tight features. 

She had shut down and gone cold. Sensing he was getting nowhere, Geno goes into a monologue about completing beginner level passes without heads up your asses.

The rest of practice passed in a cold blur. Her handles were inconsistent, her footwork was messy, and her passes to Azzi had lost their touch.

Paige knew everyone had noticed. She knew Coach was watching her with a hardened expression and jaw tight, certainly planning an hour long film review. She knew Azzi had noticed and was just as frustrated.

When everyone began shuffling out of practice, Paige was the first to the locker room. When she was asked about recovery, she was quick to brush it off with promises of next time. Instead, she gathered her things, shoved on headphones, and headed out.

She still had about an hour before her first class, but if she sat still she would think. Even worse, she might do. So instead, she blared music in her headphones and walked to campus to grab some shitty food to focus on instead of staying in her head.

Campus normally had shitty food, but when you were suffering at the hands of your own mind, there was nothing that would be as awful as you felt. Paige knew this all too well.

As she was eating her low-quality food and trying to think about anything else, her phone buzzed.

Azzi: Hey, are we good?

Paige pauses. Her fingers hover over her phone. For once, she has lost all words for Azzi. How would she explain this at all?

Her brain runs through a million possible responses. 

Yeah, we’re good. Why wouldn’t we be? 

It is just me.

No.

I am going through it.

Instead, Paige sighs and locks her phone. She has nothing to say that wouldn’t lead to bigger conversations that she wasn’t ready to have.

Paige shifts her focus to finishing her shitty lunch and making her way to some communications class she signed up for at Azzi’s insistence that it was the best professor ever, seriously.

Class left Paige feeling just as drained. She spent most of the time berating herself in her head for not being able to focus. Her notes were disorganized jumbles with terminology she is pretty sure Azzi used.

They had been assigned a paper and Paige missed all of the instructions. As she packed up all she could do was hope it would be sent out in an email later.

She headed out of her class and failed to consider that Azzi knew her schedule and was also likely to have classes in this building. Immediately outside of the door waiting for her was Azzi.

“P,” she says firmly as Paige steps outside of the door and sighs upon hearing her name, she pauses but doesn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“P,” Azzi tries again, wrapping her hand around Paige’s elbow trying to capture her attention.

Paige’s whole body tenses up. She pauses for a second and takes a deep breath before turning around.

“Hey Az,” she says with a forced smile, “what’s up?” 

Azzi frowns, “you’ve been ignoring me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Paige sighs, “I’ve just been stressed with school, training, and draft prep stuff. We’re good” Paige says with as calming of a smile as she could manage. It wasn’t fooling Azzi.

“Look, you’re my best friend. I know you’re lying to me right now” Azzi sighs and Paige swears she sees her eyes gloss over, “but also, you’re my best friend. I need to trust that you will tell me if something is truly wrong.”

Paige tries to smile reassuringly at Azzi, but her heart breaks. She doesn’t mean to be pushing her away or letting her think that it’s her fault. She doesn’t mean to lie or avoid. She just cannot handle any of this right now.

“I will tell you,” Paige says softly with a smile. Azzi returns the gesture and drops her hand from Paige’s arm.

“Hey, team hangout tonight” Azzi says with a bright smile after a moment of silence and Paige cannot help but smile in return.

“You guys planning hangouts without me again?” Paige grins at Azzi who lets out a genuine low chuckle. 

Paige’s heart sputters at the noise.

“You would be included in making the plans if you would start opening upperclassmen group chat again” Azzi jokes leaning in to bump Paige’s shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, yeah” Paige laughs and then more sincerely, “I’ll be there.”

Azzi smiles at Paige so softly that she couldn’t help but melt a little bit, “see you, P.”

Azzi wraps her arms around her best friend’s middle. Paige’s heart stops for a second and she freezes with her arms laying flat at her sides. Her hands quickly catch up to the moment and wrap around Azzi’s shoulders.

In the hug, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Before the team hangout, Paige decided to join Jana, KK, and Ice at the library for a study session. She had been in her head for so long now, that she had been neglecting her friendships and studies.

“Well, look who decided we were lucky enough to be graced with her presence” Ice smirks, looking up from her work and KK gasps dramatically with Jana joining in.

“Yeah, yeah. Here to put the student in student athlete or whatever” Paige jokes putting her book bag around the chair and grabbing out her computer.

“You’re better than I am,” Jana groans looking at her computer.

Paige does spend some time working through an assignment. At least she tried. But her mind wouldn’t stop wandering.

She couldn’t stop thinking about dark curls, brown eyes, and a smile that made her melt. It was honestly kind of ridiculous. She couldn’t last more than a few minutes without thinking about Azzi.

Suddenly she was thinking of every quiet moment between practices, every shared hotel room and the hushed moments of the night. She couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who has occupied her every waking thought for the past few months and her sudden interest in Tyler.

Paige almost groans at that mere thought of his name. 

After a few minutes of flat faced staring at a blank document, Paige snapped out of it and looked around to her teammates. She noticed that all of them were too engrossed in their work to notice her struggle.

She flips her phone over and sees no notifications, but knows she needs a break.

“Hey, I have a missed call. I’ll be right back” she stands up and the other three vaguely acknowledge her before returning to their work.

She finds a quiet room and opens her contacts. She finds who she is looking for and clicks the call button waiting through only a few moments of ringing.

“Hey Paigey,” the soft voices flowed through the speaker on her phone, “what’s up?”

Paige hears her dad vaguely say something to a coworker and then a door shutting on the other end.

“Hey, dad. I just wanted to call and chat, miss you” Paige explains gently and she hears her dad chuckle a little bit on the other end.

“Are you going soft on your old man?” her dad jokes and Paige just laughs, “we miss you too.”

“How is your training going?” he asks and Paige shifts into a more comfortable subject. She shares the strengths of the team and excitement based on the results of their previous games.

Her dad fell into comfortable conversation. He shared some observations he saw from watching the previous game. Paige was always grateful for the feedback and support of her family.

“You know who I am really excited to see this season?” he asks suddenly with a lot of excitement. Paige just hums.

“Azzi” her heart speeds up at the girl’s name, “she has been playing really well. It’s like she has something to prove. She’s going to kick some ass this season!”

At this point, Paige begins floating away from the conversation. Her concentration shifts and she can only think about what her dad said.

It’s like she has something to prove.

Right now, the only person Azzi is trying to impress is Tyler. Paige cannot handle the fact that if Azzi is playing really well or is trying to impress someone, it is likely the very guy whose name makes Paige’s skin crawl.

Refusing to entertain that thought any longer, Paige settles back into a normal rhythm with her father. They discuss upcoming games and breaks and try to work out times to come visit.

The call ends, as it usually does, with promises to keep in touch.

The end of the call allowed Paige a few moments to try calming her heart. She missed her family and would normally turn to Azzi in times like these. She knew this wasn’t possible in her current mindset.

Instead, she took a deep breath through her nose, tried blinking away the emotions, and headed back inside to the library. She would not let this distract her from the things that mattered most.

Please repost, like, and leave your feedback! Thank you!!! <33

-- tea ★’*•.¸♡

[neganwifey25-blog]

Ummmmmmmmmmm…..

奥田瑛二 × 真田広之 || 眠らない街 新宿鮫 (1993)

[strawberryfaced]

I NEED. TO DO. OR MAKE SOMETHING. PLEASE

[matt-murdockk]

Statistically Speaking

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

words: 600 words

summary: Spencer thought he was in a long-term relationship— turns out, he forgot to tell her.

warnings: none, babe. this is pure fluff <3

“Come on, man,” Derek said, arms folded as he stared Spencer down across the break room table. “You can’t just read a thousand relationship books and think that’s the same as the real thing.”

Spencer looked up from the folder in his lap, utterly unbothered. “Thirty-nine books. And they’re peer-reviewed studies. It’s not about anecdotes, it’s about data.”

Penelope leaned over her coffee, eyes sparkling. “Oh boy. He’s going full empirical. This should be good.”

“It’s not that I think I understand relationships,” Spencer continued, adjusting his glasses. “It’s just that I recognize functional dynamics when I see them. And I happen to know what one looks like.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah? Like what, The Notebook?”

“No,” Spencer said. “Like me and Y/N.”

There was a beat of silence.

Y/N, seated two chairs down with a half-drunk coffee in her hand, turned very slowly. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Spencer blinked at her like she’d asked if water was wet. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘you and me’?”

He frowned, confused. “I mean us. Our dynamic. It’s a prime example of a healthy relationship.”

Garcia dropped her muffin.

Derek leaned in like he was about to watch a car crash in slow motion. “Go on.”

Spencer tilted his head at Y/N. “You seriously didn’t know?”

She blinked. “Know what exactly?”

“That we’re in a relationship. Or— at least something adjacent to one. I assumed we were both aware of that.”

Y/N stared at him.

Spencer, sensing the disbelief, leaned back in his chair and began to list things off like he was briefing a case. “We text every night before bed. You bring me coffee the way I like it— three sugars, not stirred— almost every day, without asking. I’ve picked you up from the airport twice. You’ve stayed over at my apartment more than once, and you steal my hoodies.”

“That’s just…” She trailed off, looking helplessly at Garcia, who was frozen mid-bite.

Spencer wasn’t done.

“We hold hands when we walk across busy streets. You braid my hair when I’m stressed. I read you poetry once and you cried, which I took as a positive emotional response and not distress.”

Y/N slowly set her coffee down. “Okay.”

“I’ve memorized your Chipotle order,” Spencer added, like that sealed it.

“Okay.”

Spencer leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “We literally hold hands all the time.”

“…Okay, yeah, I see where I went wrong.”

Derek lost it.

Garcia was fanning herself with a napkin, whispering “my stars” under her breath.

Y/N looked like she was debating the moral and logistical weight of throwing herself into the nearest garbage can.

Spencer, meanwhile, just looked vaguely betrayed. “How did you not know?”

She gave him a look. “Because you never said it out loud?”

“I thought it was implied!”

Derek clapped once, loud. “Oh, I live for this.”

Garcia blinked. “Cool, so I’ve been third-wheeling a relationship that wasn’t even technically happening. Love that for me.”

Y/N turned back to Spencer, who was still trying to solve the mystery of how she missed this.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No,” he said, after a beat. “Just… surprised. I really thought we were on the same page.”

“Well.” She exhaled, slow and a little amused. “We are now.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

Y/N shrugged. “Statistically speaking?”

That got the smallest smile out of him.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

a/n: first spencer fic can i get a whoop whoop (i hope this is good, oh god)

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. ��Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[sexilene]

boy nextdoor!jj is so hot hehe him choking me while he fucks me in a matting press AHHHH. want to see him smirking down at me through his floppy blonde hair wet with sweat as he puts his other hand over my mouth so my parents don’t wake up :3

ohmygoodness stop it right now. the way i smiled reading thisss pleaseeee!!! adding this to the kinktober list cuz why not!! #19 (ignore any spelling mistakes sorry lol!)

anotha little boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader thought ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

when your boyfriend does manage to sneak in through the window by climbing on a tree…he usually spends the night. your parents go to sleep fairly early, like soon after dinner early, so that gives you and jj some alone time in the dark without worrying about one of your parents randomly entering your room to check on you. it's happened before and though jj is getting better at running to find a hiding spot, it's is not ideal.

your parents figure you like to fall asleep to the tv you have in your room watching your little movies, and that it’s the movies making the little sounds. while that is true on some nights, this time around both the tv, you and your boyfriend are making sounds.

“jay!” you squeal when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending down again to press his flushed hard cock deeper into you. “shhh, gotta be quiet, like a little mouse, quiet okay?” he shushes you, your little movie still on in the background, providing a decent amount of light to illuminate his features and yours.

“uh huh…okay” you nod, still a little dazed due to the past two orgasms he gave you by fingering you a little over 20 minutes ago. once he pushes into your puffy pulsing heat, he wraps a strong hand around your throat and starts to squeeze down, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and grip the hand on your neck. jj is practically trapping you there, underneath him getting incessantly plowed by his big dick.

“wanna hold my hand?” he offers you the hand that’s not on your neck, you mewl at his sweetness, he’s still trying to make you feel as loved and safe as possible even if he is fucking you like he hates you.

“mhmm!”

“here babydoll” he takes your hand in his, the sounds of skin slapping skin faintly bouncing off the walls, not wanting to risk waking the whole neighborhood up with the way he really wants to be pounding into you right now.

your lips are swollen from his kisses, drool threatening to escape the corners of your lips, tear stains on your cheeks glisten due to the lighting, your hair all messy, and still jj thinks you look like the prettiest little thing.

“y’look cute, c’mere” your boyfriend grunts, pulling you up by your neck for another kiss, “harder jayjay, please harder!” you whisper, needy as ever.

“i know babe,” jj chokes you harder and uses his other hand to rub your clit in fast circles, “g’nna cum again!” you squeal out.

“gonna wake up your parents, hold on,” he takes his hand off your neck and covers your mouth to keep you from making any more loud noises, as much as he loves to hear them….

“alright kittie cat no more screamin’ or im gonna have to press your face into the pillow,” he whispers in your ear.

“mph- nmm” your words muffled by his big hand,

“yeaaaah good girl, almost done baby, just keep takin’ it…” he bends your legs back further into a mating press and starts thrusting in again. the position causing his dick to go in deeper and hit the spots that make you melt. that combined with the way both your bodies all sticky with sweat and how he smells all salty and musky, makes you roll your eyes back and then squeeze them shut.

“h-ha…shit, y’so warm and wet holy fuck i love you so much.” jj grits through his teeth, bringing that hand back down to play with your pulsing clit. you whine into his hand as you cum hardddd on his dick, squeezing him so hard he can barely pull out to thrust in again.

“shhh sh sh, there you go…reaaal yummy huh?” he coos, bringing that hand back up to choke you again, “baby girl likes getting choked huh? dont’cha?”

you try and make a sound but you just can’t with how hard he’s squeezing your neck. “yeeeeaaah she likes it, little pussy gushes on me when i squeeze your throat like…thisss…” he gives a few final hard sloppy thrusts, letting go of your neck to give you a breathing break, sweat dripping down his chest, before he shoots hot strings of cum into your cervix.

he doesn’t pull out to keep all that cum stuffed in you and bends down to give you wet sloppy ‘good job’ kisses, whispering an ‘i love you’ after every kiss.

“think we were pretty quiet this time?” your boyfriend whispers looking into your eyes, and all you can do is give him doe eyes, pout and let out a little “mph!” ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[chrissv4mp]

MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[81pastrys]

Timing Mishap

Summary— Lando allows an unplanned sleepover with his current girlfriend but forgot one important detail: it’s his weekend with Lexie

Warnings— sex joke (not around Lexie)

A/N— I’ve been strangled by school stuff, apologies for going MIA

Dad Lando List

Request— could you do a fic where the drivers forget to pick up their daughter from a previous relationship because their current girlfriend wants them to spend time with them? whatever ending is up to you

The mid-day breeze felt nice, the balcony overlooking the Monaco shoreline of yachts and expensive looking people. Lando’s current girlfriend had begged to stay the night in which he agreed, only to realize late afternoon that it was his weekend with Lexie.

“Shit.” He muttered. His girlfriend, who was comfortably sitting on his lap, was startled at his sudden curse. He rushed to get up and grab his phone. As expected: missed calls, texts, even voicemails.

“What’s wrong lan?” His girlfriend inquired, confused. She knew about Lexie, but hadn’t the faintest clue of the schedule him and his ex had agreed upon.

“It’s my weekend with Lex, I’m sorry I completely forgot when you had asked to stay.” He rambled, now putting more clothes on as to go and get his little girl. “You can stay another weekend, I promise.” He said with a kiss before rushing out the door.

She knew she couldn’t be around Lexie unless they were to get married or more serious, so she grabbed her things and left not too long after he did. She wasn’t particularly mad, but she wanted to spend more time with him.

Lando broke a few road laws on his way to his exes house. He called her and she didn’t answer so he texted her in hopes she knew to expect him. When he arrived and knocked on the door he had to wait a while, punishment he supposes.

The door opened and his toddler came running to him while her mum stood to the side. “Daddy!!” She squealed in delight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he picked her up from there.

“Hey my girl!” He said after returning the affectionate squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m late I slept too much.” He added, knowing how excited she would get to stay with him. “How about to make it up we get your favorite treat?”

“Ice cream!” She said with a giggle. Lando confirmed they could get ice cream and prepared for the scolding his ex was about to give while Lexie gathered her things.

“This is the second time you’re late.” She said monotoned. “You’re never late, maybe on time- but never late.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“I’m really sorry, I let my dick think before my brain.” He joked. Well not really a joke but she knew that, they had a kid for crying out loud. “I’ll keep on top of it now, I’m sorry I kept you waiting..again.”

“You’re lucky she has your last name.” His ex scoffed. The little girl came back with a small book bag and a stuffie cuddled to her chest. “Alright, be good for daddy okay? I love you lots!” Lexie hugged her mum before grabbing Lando’s hand and he whisked her to the car.

He took immediately to his promise and drove to her favorite ice cream shop. He noticed she looked a bit glum in the car seat and frowned. “What’s wrong my baby?” He asked.

“I thought daddy forgot about me.” She mumbled. Lando felt a pang of guilt, he had chosen someone else over his little girl. Not once, but twice.

“I can never forget you baby, daddy accidentally slept too late.” He carried the lie, not wanting to further upset her. “Tell you what, we’ll get ice cream, then we can watch a movie and cuddle to sleep.” He knew that was her favorite. They usually only slept in the same bed during race weekends but she secretly loved it.

“I sleep in daddy’s bed?” She asked cautious but excited. He nodded with a smile and she brightened up. He got them ice cream and they ate it while giggling over nothing. They went to Lando’s and his girlfriend left a note, short and sweet.

Grabbed my things, hope you make the weekend special for your little girl -xo

“Alright, what movie should we watch?” He asked. Lexie yawned and Lando realized they would never make it out awake on the couch this late while watching a movie. “How about bath time and movie in bed?” He asked softly at her level. She nodded with a small smile.

After her bath, Lando brushed her hair and she put on pajamas. Lando putting his on in his closet when she crawled in bed. He put on a princess movie of her liking and she got cuddled into his side under the covers. He kissed her head.

“Goodnight my baby, I love you lots.” He whispered in her hair. They fell asleep not long after the movie had started.

Little bit of Lexie for you all 🙂‍↕️

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @kallanfiona @angelluv16 @chertik-007vvv

[thursdayg1rl]

my ability to procrastinate is actually unmatched

[godricgryffinsnore]

The Heart On The Map ♡ : A Harry Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : Harry’s secret affection for you quite literally glows, and a certain map reveals more than just footsteps. It's cozy, romantic, and sprinkled with the perfect amount of mischief.

warnings : Extreme fluff (like heart-squeezing, kiss-you-softly fluff), Secondhand embarrassment (Harry being adorably awkward), Teasing from friends (Ron and Hermione’s chaos), Magical PDA (glowing hearts on enchanted maps 💘), Slight possessiveness (in the “you’re mine and I worship you” way), Uncontrollable grinning and swooning may occur (reader beware). Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 1.1k

main master list <3

banners : @dollywons and @saradika-graphics

There were many things Harry Potter kept secret.

Like how he added double sugar to his tea when Hermione wasn’t looking. Like how he practiced his “relaxed, totally cool” smile in the mirror every time he passed you in the corridor. And most sacred of all—more than the passwords to Dumbledore’s office or the secret of the Chamber—was the Marauder’s Map.

But not for the reason you might think.

You see, somewhere between sixth year’s chaos and seventh’s slow-burning hush, Harry Potter had done something rather... sentimental. And completely irrational, if you asked Ron (which Harry never did).

He’d charmed a heart—small and shimmering—onto the very parchment the Marauders created, and it glowed, ever so softly, around one specific dot. Yours.

Not Ginny. Not Cho. You. The girl who laughed like a spell misfiring. The girl who once beat Malfoy at chess and made it look like art. The girl who borrowed his quill and returned it with tiny daisies drawn all over the feather.

And worst of all—or best, depending on how you looked at it—the girl who had no idea.

── .✦

It started on a Thursday.

A rainy, sleepy sort of Thursday, where the windows of the common room wept soft silver trails and the fire crackled with just enough drama to be comforting.

You flopped beside Harry on the couch with a groan that could’ve summoned a Healer.

“I’ve written ‘henceforth’ six times in this essay. Is that even legal?”

Harry laughed, setting the map aside (too quickly, if anyone were watching).

“You could say 'thus' instead,” he offered, but you shook your head.

“No. I’m reclaiming henceforth. It’s powerful. It’s poetic. It’s—” You paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait… was that the Marauder’s Map?”

Harry went rigid, like someone had hit him with a mild Petrificus Totalus. “Um. No?”

You arched a brow.

He sighed. “Yes.”

And before he could think—before his brain could outrun his heart—you were leaning over him, plucking the parchment off the cushion like it owed you answers.

It opened easily in your hands, revealing the winding paths and pulsing names. You blinked.

“Wait. Is that… a heart?”

Silence. A heartbeat. A single crack from the fire.

Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Hero of the Light, Slayer of Serpents and Secrets, turned beet red.

“I—it’s just… it’s not a big—okay, yes, it’s a heart,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s dumb, I know. I can remove it—”

“Don’t,” you said, suddenly soft.

He peeked at you through his fingers.

You were staring at the heart-shaped glow, your own name twinkling in its center like stardust caught in moonlight.

“It’s cute,” you whispered. Then smirked. “Slightly stalker-ish. But cute.”

He groaned, flopping backward dramatically, his glasses askew.

“Why am I like this?”

You leaned closer, your hair brushing his shoulder, voice low and warm.

“Because you’re completely whipped for me, Potter.”

He made a strangled noise. “I am not whipped.”

You gently tapped his chest. “Then explain the heart on the ancient, priceless magical document.”

“I just… like knowing where you are,” he muttered. “So I can walk you to class. Or sit near you at lunch. Or save you a seat in the library.”

You bit your lip, your heart doing acrobatics. “That’s… very sweet. And sort of terrifying. But mostly sweet.”

Harry looked up at you then, every ounce of Gryffindor bravery burning in his stupidly green eyes.

“I like you, you know,” he said, breathless. “Really like you. Possibly dangerously. You make me forget how to speak in complete sentences sometimes.”

You smiled, slow and blooming.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I like you, too.”

And then, in the hush of the firelight and the steady tap of rain, you leaned down and kissed him. Soft. Honest. Like a promise and a poem had collided into lips.

Somewhere beneath the couch, the Marauder’s Map pulsed. The heart glowed brighter.

Harry Potter, for once, didn’t care who saw.

── .✦

It had been three days since the Marauder’s Map incident.

Three days since Harry had declared his undying affection with a magical glowing heart. Three days since you’d kissed him and made his brain short-circuit like a faulty Remembrall. Three days of absolute, uninterrupted, lovesick bliss.

Unfortunately, three days was also about as long as it took Ron Weasley to notice anything.

── .✦

"What's that glowing on the map?"

It happened during a perfectly innocent evening in the common room. You were working on homework. Harry had pulled out the map for “patrolling purposes” (translation: to check where you were every seven minutes). And Ron, bless his nosy soul, had leaned over his shoulder mid-yawn.

Harry froze. The map, sprawled open across his lap, was very clearly displaying your name, outlined in the shape of a fluttering, glowing, pulsating heart.

“Oh,” Ron said. “Oh. Oh?”

Harry panicked.

“That’s—nothing. A bug. A map bug. One of those… cartographical hexes.”

“Mate,” Ron deadpanned. “There is a literal love heart glowing around her name. What sort of maps have bugs shaped like affection?”

Hermione, already suspicious, looked up from her book. “What love heart?”

Ron grabbed the parchment and pointed like he’d discovered Atlantis.

“This! Look! Look at it twinkling, Hermione. Twinkling! Like it’s in love!”

Hermione took one look and broke into the most insufferable smirk this side of the Black Lake.

“Harry,” she said sweetly, too sweetly. “Did you… customize the Marauder’s Map?”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean for anyone to see it!”

“Oh my God,” Ron said, now thoroughly scandalized. “This is worse than when Fred used the map to track Angelina’s bathroom schedule.”

You, meanwhile, were trying (and failing) not to laugh. “So… I’m twinkling now?”

Hermione was grinning. “Darling, you’re radiant. You have a magical beacon of Harry Potter’s undying affection around your name.”

“UNDYING AFFECTION?!” Harry squeaked.

Ron looked personally betrayed. “You put a heart on the map and didn’t tell me? What happened to bro code?”

“Ron, you nearly hexed yourself trying to flirt with a portrait last week.”

“That portrait winked at me!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re both hopeless.”

You leaned into Harry’s shoulder, cheek pressed to his robe, and murmured, “You can keep the heart, by the way. It’s cute.”

Harry turned red. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Really,” you hummed. “Might make one for your name next time.”

Ron clutched his chest like you’d stabbed him with a Cupid’s arrow. “I swear, if I see two glowing hearts, I’m transferring to Durmstrang.”

“Can’t,” Hermione said without looking up. “They’d never survive your emotional constipation.”

“Oi!”

── .✦

The heart stayed on the map. You added a star next to his name the next day. Ron did, in fact, see it and screamed into a pillow. Hermione stole the map once just to annotate it with color-coded bookmarks.

And Harry?

He just looked at you every time it glowed, whispered “she’s mine”, and blushed so deeply even the Fat Lady giggled.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 1

Love at First Sight [Yandere Forest God x Gn.Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list!

Tipjar :)

Tw! Dead dove do not Eat! MDNI, NSFW Noncon, oral sex (recieving), Yandere, Implied kidnapping

You go into a newly acquired piece of land to survey it for your job when things start to become strange...

1.7k words

There was something wrong with these woods.

You were used to seeing some kind of anomaly in your field studies. Maybe the deer or rabbit population was too high, or you would find that an invasive species was beating out a more native one. It was never crazy though outside of the normal, exhausting sludge that was conservationist work. You were sent out by the local government to different wildlife reserves, or areas that were undeveloped to do some basic surveying and then come back and give them updates.

This forest wasn’t any different, initially. It was a newer addition to your city’s ownership, sold to them by a smaller, dying rural town. There were talks of what to do with the land, but first you had to be sent down to make sure they wouldn’t violate any regulations or kill off an endangered species. Not that they really cared. After all, your job was to get professionally ignored.

So you went in, camping gear and your truck in tow, and you began to explore.

Again, it was normal at first.

It was an average area. Normal flora and fauna. In fact, it was kinda impressive how well the area seemed to be doing. There was hardly any trash, no signs of destruction, no weird occurrences. It made you feel kinda happy. You went about your days just noting stuff down, humming happily all the while.

It was fine until the staring started. It began with a squirrel or two. They would just sit there, unmoving, unblinking, always just in the corner of your vision. Odd, sure, but maybe they were trying to see if they could get some of your food you always carried with you? Days passed and it escalated to a couple of birds added in, perched on branches and hidden by thick leaves. Then some bunnies, not even eating or twitching their little noses.

You thought you were going crazy, but nothing could prepare you for when the bigger animals started doing the same damn thing. The deer were one thing, already unsettling and strange, but having a bear watch you, still as a stagnate pond, was terrifying. You weren’t sure what to make of it. The only time the oddly behaving creatures would move were when either you’d get too close (in which they’d back off) or when you explored the forest (in which they’d follow after you in some sort of procession). 

You noted it all down of course. You assumed that it might be an illness, or perhaps they were used to humans? But they didn’t look unwell, and from what you understood, this place was rather isolated, so there was no reason for them to approach you this often. You felt a sense of growing unease with each passing day, with each filled page in your field journal. This was getting too weird. The thing of note was obviously the staring, but you figured that it was definitely not in your area of expertise.

That’s why, after weeks of camping and surveying the woods, you decided to get the fuck out of there. 

You packed up your campsite with little fanfare, hundreds of tiny gazes trained on your back. You glanced around as you loaded up a final few things into your truck, and you had only just realized then how many of them there were. The fauna crowded around the clearing you had settled in like a bated audience, and you shuddered. If you weren’t getting paid so much to stake it out here, then you probably would’ve hightailed it much faster.

“Okay… got my keys…” You mumbled and shuffled through your pockets quickly to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. “Should be good to go now.”

“Go where?”

You spun around, nearly jumping out of your skin in shock. Behind you stood a man, imposingly tall with a stony expression and dark skin. You pressed your hand to your now rapidly beating chest as he towered over you with a tilted head.

“Where are you going?” He repeated, and he prompted out a hand that was seemingly carved out of a deep bark to beckon your words out. You were shocked. His hair was seemingly made of vines connecting him to the earthen ground and shifting in unnatural ways.

“Uhhhh, back home?” Was all you could say in a slightly unsure voice. Seriously, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen such a person, and through your stuttering mind, you were able to guess that whatever was wrong with this place was probably his doing.

The man’s eyebrows (which looked as if they had been carved into his face) furrowed slightly. He placed a hand on his chin in contemplation, his dark hollow eyes and pure emerald pupils narrowing slightly.

“But,” he started, and it felt like his words rung over a hundred times in your head, shaking and lumbering through every node of your soft brain tissue. “But I thought you had come to live here,” He mumbled and reached forward to touch your arm. You flinched back on instinct, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Flower…” The man chided softly. His seeking fingers were more insistent this time, and you could not move back quickly enough before he was snatching you up and drawing you close. You cried out softly as you fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and sighed, shivering in contentment. You cringed at the feeling of shifting, wriggling grass and vines.

“Flower, surely you must know that you cannot go,” He sighed while he ran his hands over your scalp. You blinked. Flower… why was he calling you this? You pushed him back slightly, just to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” You asked. It wasn’t just a name thing, but rather to say ‘who do you think you are?’. He hummed in response, and you can see him taking in every little thing about you. Suddenly, he laughed.

“Don’t you think it’s cruel, my flower? You ask my name but I know naught of yours,” He said with affection blooming between every roll of his tongue. Your vision spun, and suddenly your back was pressed against soft earth and damp grass. You gasped and cried out. Before you could even protest, your shirt was ripped open and your pants were pulled down.

“What silly things you wear,” He chuckled and placed kisses along your neck. The feeling was strange, slightly rigid. “Is this what mortals wear nowadays? So revealing,” He murmured and toyed with the shredded fabric. Your eyes were wide, and you tried to wriggle out from under him. He merely grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back, the vines from his hair enveloping you and wrapping around your limbs. You squeaked as your thighs were pulled apart by the coiling greenery, digging into the softer flesh. 

“I must admit,” the man moved back, letting his breath ghost over your parted legs and crotch. “I was rather taken with you from the moment you arrived.” 

The strange man held you down as he buried his rugged face and strangely glowing tongue in your entrance while stroking your privates with grooved, deft fingers. Your back arched, and you desperately tried to break free. Your frantic pleas for release were soon broken by the sounds of your breathy moans, and your voice rang like a bell in the clearing. Each lap of his rugged tongue sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling. 

“W-what? Stop that! Let me go!”

Your keys were discarded in the grass, and those fucking animals just kept staring. You could see your writhing, pinned form in the reflection of hundreds of deep, black unblinking pools. You felt sick to your stomach, and no amount of fluttering arousal could disguise that.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had company, and you come here looking like that. No, you’re going nowhere, flower.”

It felt like years were passing as he kissed, licked and held your hips in place with a tender firmness that would have you blushing if he was your lover. Or at least a lover you chose. Your begging was drowned out by your own frantic heartbeat and the humiliating squelch of your own pleasure. Never had you faced such cruel adoration, such gentle violence. Any place that had previously shown off exposed skin was kissed in a brief moment of reprieve from the onslaught. Your arms, your calves, your collar bones which had only just peaked out from under the neckline of your shirt.

Your truck, covered in mud, but still rather nice nonetheless, slowly began to be pulled into the ground by the flowers and flora rapidly growing on the vehicle. Your things! You tried to reach for them, but a hand of his reached up and entwined his fingers with yours.

Your screams of both pleasure and fear were carried by the wind, weaving through trees and filling the forest as naturally as the rustle of leaves. He continued to eat you out, and it was like you could feel his words in your head simply from the graze of his palm. It was overwhelming, and with each wave of heat, each tremble of your body, you sank further and further into his hold.

“Oh, look at you, my flower,” He pressed reverent kisses to your naval. “How you shall bloom in my care.”

More pressure, more bitter white flashes dancing across your vision as you keened and cried. Branches rustled around your face, and you wondered when they had even gotten there in the first place. They sprouted from his back and shielded you from the sun and sky. 

“-made for me-”

“-love…”

“Flower…my flower…”

You caught bits and pieces of his voice, nestled in your ears like sticky pollen. It was too much, and all at once you had come undone, spilling over his face with an anguished, strangled noise.

It was hard to think after that. All you could feel, all you could know was that you were being dragged back into those deep, dark, very wrong woods with a loving smile slotted against your lips and flowers in your hair.

[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part four)

smau + real life

warning : very very wordy

“lando takes a trip to visit jules while she is in the midst of a 24 hour shift and the twins celebrate a birthday..with a few surprises."

(I received several requests on a few little plot lines to add so I tried my best to incorporate all)

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

part five here:)

 tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish, @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added to her story!

{caption 1 : only 12 hours into this 24 and im already falling asleep - SEND HELP} {caption 2 : help has arrived—thank you lando}

seen by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 & 4,368,468 others.

charles_leclerc : I thought you said no visitors allowed at work…

charles_leclerc : arthur is upset

dr_jules_leclerc : oh I wasn’t specific- im allowed visitors I just put you both on a no visitation list

charles_leclerc : that is so rude - what did we ever do?

dr_jules_leclerc : where the both of you are- chaos ensues + I do not need distractions

charles_leclerc : ignoring that first part- but is lando not a distraction?

dr_jules_leclerc : he is a permitted distraction because he brought gifts

charles_leclerc : if I buy you that birkin you were talking about - will you take me off the list?

dr_jules_leclerc : ….yes…bubblegum pink with palladium hardware..thank you charlie

charles_leclerc : perfect😁 anything for you, princesse.

oscarpiastri : lily and I will take some of the credit for the flowers- we helped him pick them out.

dr_jules_leclerc : you know me so well, loves. thank uuuu

arthur_leclerc : sooooo since charles is off the ban list does that mean i am too?

dr_jules_leclerc : no because you will be here every day and I will never get any work done.

arthur_leclerc : sorry for loving my sister jeez 🙄

arthur_leclerc : …what if I bring lunch everytime?

dr_jules_leclerc : …okay..fine

—

lando added a post to his story!

{caption : found this really pretty lady at the hospital and now she is showing me really cool things - BEST DAY EVER}

seen by charles_leclerc, ciscanorris, flonorris1 & 2,368,354 others.

charles_leclerc : she is the best

lando : she really is, i love watching her do something she is so passionate about.

ciscanorris : I am glad you are finally learning something because I know you didn’t pay any attention in school. Tell my daughter I said hello and love her bunches!

lando : will do- no love for me? 🤨

ciscanorris : Don’t be dramatic, Lando. I birthed you- you automatically have all my love instilled into you.

flonorris1 : never thought you’d end up with anyone as cool as her

lando : me neither

—

I was on hour eighteen— out of 24.

My scrubs were wrinkled, my hair had been up and redone twice already, and my eyes burned from staring at the same three charts for too long. I had barely eaten, my feet ached, and there was a little knot forming at the base of my neck from the stress of balancing five pediatric oncology cases—each one heavy, each one pulling at a different part of my heart.

I was halfway through a progress note when someone knocked softly on the doorframe of my office.I looked up from my computer screen and froze.

Lando.

He was wearing a hoodie, joggers, and sneakers that were entirely too clean for hospital floors. He had what looked like 3 bouquets and some balloons, and a familiar little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The one he always saved just for me.

“Hi, doctor,” he said quietly.

My whole body exhaled.

“Lan—what are you doing here?”

He held up the flowers like they explained everything. “Bringing you something to brighten up your day. I can’t imagine a 24 hour shift with several different cases is very fun for you, love.”

I blinked, then set the paperwork down and stood, crossing the room in just a few steps before wrapping my arms around his waist. He hugged me back instantly—tight, warm, steady. I let yourself melt into it, just for a second.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I murmured against his chest.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You take care of everyone else. I just wanted to take care of you for five minutes.”

He pulled back gently and handed me a small bag. Inside was my favorite wrap, a bottle of coconut water, and a pack of chocolate-covered almonds I always kept in my locker but had run out of days ago.

“Eat up, Doc. I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

My chest squeezed.

“You remembered all of this?”

“I pay attention,” he said with a soft shrug. “Especially to you.”

I sat with him in the office for ten stolen minutes, half-laughing through my exhaustion as he made dramatic faces while trying to sip from the tiny espresso cups meant for the staff.

At one point, my head dropped onto his shoulder and he just let it stay there, fingers tracing light circles on my back.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Some days I don’t either.”

“But you still do.”

He looked at me then—really looked. No makeup, hair undone, emotionally and physically worn down to my edges—and he thought I had never looked more beautiful.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

I huffed a tired smile. “Tell me that again after I’ve slept.”

“I’ll tell you every day if you let me.”

I turned to him, and for a second, the hospital faded. There was just Lando. Kind, thoughtful, mine.

And in that moment, you didn’t need the flowers or a grand speech. You just needed this-

Someone who showed up when it mattered.

Someone who saw the hard parts and still stayed.

Someone who brought food to a hospital at 9 p.m. because he loved me.

A light knock on the door interrupted our moment of peace. I nodded towards my assistant who opened the door gently.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Leclerc - both of your brothers are downstairs and are requesting to come up and see you.” She said and I smirked to myself with a small sigh.

“Let them up- why not?” I said with a small chuckle and set my head back on Lando’s shoulder.

Within minutes, there was a knock on my office door and Arthur and Charles came barreling in. A giant orange bag in Charles’ hand that read ‘Hermes’. Charles held it out with a big smile on his face.

“For you, princesse.” He said eyeing lando and taking a seat across the desk from me.

“Charles- it is 9 at night how the fuck did you even get this?” I said with a huge smile on my face as I unboxed the purse.

“I have my ways and my connections and as I said- anything for you.” He said, watching me open the box with joy.

“You just had to show up my gift, huh?” Lando said with a smirk.

“What can I say?” Charles shrugged.

“No, this is only here because it is the only way Jules would take Charles and I off the ban list.” Arthur said and I chucked to myself.

“Either way- it is much appreciated, my loves. You have made this shift considerably less miserable for me. I love it, thank you.” I said and stood pulling Arthur into a hug- he left a kiss on my cheek. I then pulled Charles in and his head rested on top of mine for a small moment.

“You are our superhero, Jules. All of ours.” Arthur said and charles and lando both nodded.

“I love you all, so much.”

—

Finally- hour 24 of 24 had ended.

The fluorescent lights still buzzed. My sneakers still squeaked faintly against the tile. But the chaos had dulled into that familiar post-shift stillness—an exhaustion so deep it lived in my bones.

I stepped out of the elevator, rubbing my temples, and there he was.

Lando. Sitting in the waiting area, hoodie hood up, legs stretched out, phone forgotten in his lap. Asleep, but barely. The second my steps slowed near him, his eyes opened like he knew.

“You stayed,” I whispered, throat tight.

He blinked once, then smiled, soft and sleepy. “Of course I did.”

I stared at him for a second—this boy with messy curls and too much heart, who waited hours in a hospital chair just to take me home. Something cracked a little in my chest.

“I told you to go,” I said, not unkindly—just overwhelmed.

“And you never listen to me when I tell you to rest,” he said, standing slowly. “So I figured we’re even.”

That made me laugh, tired and watery.

Without a word, he reached for my bag, threw it over his shoulder, then carefully tugged my hand into his. His thumb brushed gently across my knuckles as he led me outside, into the cool night air.

I was silent until I reached the car, the kind of silence that buzzed with everything I couldn’t say yet.

But when I sat down—door shut, the outside world finally muffled—I turned to him. And the words just came.

“You know how many people see this version of me?” I asked softly.

He glanced over. “This version?”

“The tired one. The one who’s had to deliver shit news and hold her emotions together in front of a ten-year-old who’s too brave for her own good. The one who didn’t get to cry during the bad scan. The one who forgot to eat and barely held it together when a patient’s parents broke down in the hallway.” I exhaled. “This version.”

Lando didn’t rush to respond. He just looked at me, eyes soft, voice even softer.

“I want to see every version.”

My throat caught.

“Not just the one in the hoodie I love. Not just the one who dances in the kitchen or teases me about being dramatic on race weekends. I want all of them. Even the hard ones. Especially those.”

I blinked fast, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.

“Tonight was hard,”I said, voice cracking.

“I know,” he whispered, already reaching across the console, thumb brushing under my eye where a tear slipped out. “But you’re not alone anymore, okay?”

I nodded once. Then again.

He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and whispered into my skin: “Let me be your soft place to land.”

And I knew—he already was.

—

time skip - 8 months - leclerc twins birthday

—

dr_jules_leclerc made a post!

liked by leclerc_pascale, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 4,368,243 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : Happy birthday to my twin—my first friend, my forever teammate, and the one who just gets me without even saying a word. From day one, we’ve shared everything—our childhood, our dreams, our weird inside jokes, and all the highs and lows in between. There’s something so rare and special about growing up with someone who’s been right there beside you every step of the way. I’m so proud of the person you are and so lucky to go through life with you as my other half. Here’s to more adventures, more laughs, and more memories we’ll never forget. Love you always and endlessly.

—

charles_leclerc : mon chèri —you already made me cry this morning on the phone and then you post this. i am so proud of you and the amazing person you have become. you continue to make me so proud every single day. you are a superhero to me and to so many others. i am so blessed to have you. love you forever

liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux : my two favorite humans on the planet—happy birthday. i love you both so so much and I cannot wait to celebrate you both. 🤍

liked by author and charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Merci mon ange. Je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour.

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my alex—i love you forever and ever. thank you for being the sister i never knew i needed 🤍

arthur_leclerc : I’d be so lost without you guys. I look up to you both and you have been the biggest inspiration to me. I love you both. Happy Birthday!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you Thur— thank you for the flowers this morning 🥹

leclerc_pascale : 💋❤️

liked by author and charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 : Happiest of Birthdays to my favorite twins!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : aren’t we like the only twins you know?

carlossainz55 : well technically yes but I could meet quadruplets and you guys would still be the favorite

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you chili ❤️

oscarpiastri : Happy birthday to my father and my aunt! Love you guys!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

—

charles_leclerc made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 3,265,368 others.

charles_leclerc : Happy birthday to the one who’s been with me since the very beginning—my twin, my lifelong partner in crime, my heart in another body. There’s no bond like ours, and no one I could ever be more grateful for. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader, my secret-keeper, my therapist, and my favorite person to just sit in silence with. We’ve seen each other through every version of ourselves—messy, growing, healing, thriving—and we’ve never let go. I honestly don’t know who I’d be without you, and I don’t ever want to find out. You make life fuller, funnier, and so much more meaningful. Here’s to everything we’ve been through and everything that’s still ahead. I love you more than words can really say.

—

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my charlie— thank you for always supporting me and keeping me strong throughout this life. you are one of the best things god has given me in this life and i wouldn’t trade you for anything. thank you for all those nights where you’d stay up for endless hours helping me study. thank you for pushing me and always believing in me. thank you for being you. love you forever

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : can you guys stop making me cry?

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

maxverstappen1 : Happy Birthday Leclerc’s!

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : my angels

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

leclerc_pascale : mes bèbès❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

lewishamilton : Happy Birthday to one of my best friends and to my teammate! ❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pierregasly : happy birthday to you both! cant wait to celebrate 🥂

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

lando just made a post!

liked by charles_leclerc, flonorris1, maxfewtrell & 4,368,389 others.

lando : Happy birthday to the love of my life, my safe place, my soulmate. Every day with you feels like a blessing, but today I get to celebrate you—your heart, your strength, your laughter, and everything that makes you so incredibly special. You’ve shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, and being yours feels like coming home. Thank you for being my partner in this wild, beautiful life. I’m so proud of who you are and so lucky to love you. Here’s to all the memories we’ve made and all the magic still to come. I love you, always. 🧡

(Happy Birthday to Charles as well- thank you for trusting me with your beautiful sister.)

—

dr_jules_leclerc : currently in tears— lan, i love you so much. you have forever changed my perception of love. you have showed me what true love is like and i will always remember you for that. you truly are the love of my life - thank you.

liked by author

maxfewtrell: Happy Birthday Jules and Charles! Hope it’s a good one.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Thank you, Lando. It took a lot for you to earn my trust but you did and that shows a lot. Take care of her, please.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

flonorris1 : Happy Birthday Jules! We miss you!!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

ciscanorris : Happy Birthday beautiful girl! Thank you for always being so good to my son and my family.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pietra.pilao : Happy happy birthday beautiful lady!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

danielricciardo : aw how cute - my lando is so in love. happy birthday Jules and Charles!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

arthur_leclerc added posts to his story.

{caption 1 : happiest of birthdays to the best sister i could have ever been given- you inspire me everyday. love you sm} {caption 2 : happy birthday cha- thank you for everything. you have done so much for me and have always been there to help me. love you}

seen by olliebearman, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 337,378 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : artttt- im crying. you are the best baby brother i could have ever asked for. love you forever

message liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc : thank you Thur— love you:)

message liked by arthur_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : this is so cute oml

message liked by arthur_leclerc

olliebearman : tell them i said happy birthday!

arthur_leclerc : Ollie- man- you’re invited to their party tonight.

olliebearman : wait really??

arthur_leclerc : yes, Jules asked me if you’d come.

olliebearman : omg I’ll be there

message liked by arthur_leclerc

—

flashback moment between charles and jules

Age six.

Well—six and a half, as I proudly told anyone who asked. Charles would chime in with a matching “six and a half” in perfect unison, as if the two of us had rehearsed it.

We were always like that—mirrored pieces of the same wild, sunlit childhood. We shared everything: toys, birthdays, scraped knees, the top bunk, and Mamans laugh when we ran barefoot through the apartment, leaving chalk footprints behind.

It was a Saturday in Monaco. The kind of summer day where the air shimmered and the streets smelled like sea breeze and jasmine. The kind of day where the grownups left their windows open and the children left their shoes behind.

Charles and I were outside in the courtyard with a box of sidewalk chalk and no real plan—just endless space and imagination that didn’t need to make sense.

He was drawing something he insisted was a Formula 1 car.

“It’s got wings,” he explained, adding two lopsided triangles to the side. “So it’s faster.”

“It looks like a turtle,” I said, squinting.

Charles stuck his tongue out at me. “You don’t get it.”

I ignored him and moved on to the edge of the driveway, where I crouched and began writing my name, pressing the chalk down so hard it cracked in my hand.

J-U-L-E-Z. Big and uneven. In green and pink and a little streak of orange.

He looked over and tilted his head. “That’s not how you spell it.”

I turned my head sharply. “Yes it is.”

“Maman spells it with an ‘S.’”

I glared at him. “I like it with a ‘Z.’”

Charles raised his eyebrows in mock shock, then grabbed a piece of purple chalk and dramatically drew a huge, crooked heart around the name. “Fine. ‘Z’ it is.”

I didn’t say anything. Just grinned.

That afternoon turned golden, the way all the best ones did. We both chased each other through sprinklers, made a “soup” out of dandelions and tap water in mamans flower pots, and ended up collapsed on the front step, legs muddy, knees bruised, giggling breathlessly.

Someone handed us popsicles—our old neighbor, probably. Orange for both of us. It stained our fingers and dripped down our wrists as I swung my legs and leaned my shoulder into his without realizing it.

“Maman says you’re gonna be a doctor,” Charles said suddenly, eyes forward, voice calm.

I didn’t answer right away.

“She says you already know how to take care of people. That you ask questions like one.”

I looked at him, blinking. “She says you’re going to crash a car.”

Charles choked on his popsicle.

“I am not! I’m gonna drive one.”

“Yeah, into a wall,” i teased.

He elbowed me gently. “No walls. Just first place.”

We both sat quiet for a moment, chewing on the end of our popsicles, watching the sun sink behind the apartments.

Then I spoke.

“If you crash, I’m not fixing you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

I nudged him. “You’re the liar.”

But even then—even at six—I knew I would fix him if he ever needed it. Because that’s what I did. And because he was mine, just like I was his.

And long after the chalk washed away and the popsicles melted and time turned everything else into something new—

That part stayed.

—

present day

I giggled to myself and sent charles a voice memo reliving that memory. He really was my other half and always would be. I was at his first race, I’ll be at his last. He has been there for me every step in my career. I’d always fix him if he ever needed it. It absolutely warmed my heart that him and Lando have finally started bonding—Charles still remaining protective as always but has let up on Lando. Time to get ready to Celebrate us.

—

The party was exactly what it should’ve been—equal parts elegant and chaotic.

Somehow, between back-to-back races and media days, We had managed to squeeze in one night. Just one night to celebrate another year around the sun, together. It had started as a quiet dinner idea, but leave it to the F1 grid to turn anything into an event.

The rooftop venue in Monaco overlooked the sea, bathed in gold from the setting sun. Fairy lights strung across low beams, music pulsing just enough to set the tone but not drown out the sound of laughter—so much laughter.

“Thirty minutes in and Russell already spilled red wine on the seating chart,” I whispered to Lando, who stood beside me with a hand resting comfortably at the small of my back.

“I think he did it on purpose,” Lando replied, lips twitching into a grin. “He’s avoiding being seated next to Max.”

I laughed, shaking my head—and that’s when I spotted him. Charles, across the patio, in conversation with Pierre and Esteban, trying to look serious while holding a cupcake in each hand.

“Classic Charles.” I murmured to myself.

Lando leaned in, dropping his voice. “Happy birthday, Doctor Leclerc.”

Before i could reply, someone called out: “Birthday toast!”

The group gathered slowly, everyone herding toward the long table that had somehow become littered with champagne corks, and a pair of sunglasses no one claimed. Charles tapped a glass with a fork, looking far too proud of himself.

“Okay,” he started, “as the older twin—”

“You’re older by four minutes,” I cut in.

“—wiser twin,” he amended with a smirk, “I’d like to say thank you all for being here. Some of you flew in on a rest day, which means a lot. Especially considering there is no actual prize for tolerating two Leclercs at once.”

Groans. Laughter. Someone (probably George) shouted, “We deserve medals!”

“But seriously,” Charles said, tone softening as he glanced at me. “We’ve shared every birthday together. Some loud. Some quiet. But this one feels different.”

I raised a brow. “How so?”

“Because you brought your half of the grid,” he teased, gesturing toward Lando, who grinned and mock-bowed. “And somehow, even with all the helmets and rivalry… tonight just feels like family.”

The silence that followed was warm. Full.

And then, just like that, Max lifted his glass. “To Jules and Charles. May their sibling battles always stay off track.”

“And may Lando survive dating a Leclerc!” someone (definitely Alex) added.

The toast ended in cheers, clinks, and one overly enthusiastic pop of champagne that nearly hit Oscar in the face.

Later, after cake (two, of course—because they still couldn’t agree on flavor) and dancing, I found myself standing alone by the railing, watching the moonlight ripple over the water.

Lando appeared quietly beside me, slipping his hand into mine.

“You good?” he asked, eyes on me, not the view.

I looked at him, heart a little full, cheeks still warm from laughing. “Yeah,” i said softly. “I’m really good.”

Because here she was—celebrating another trip around the sun with the person who knew her best, and the person who loved her deepest. Surrounded by people who’d crash helmets for her in one second and pull her into group hugs the next.

—

Charles and I sat on the balcony in silence - just enjoying the view and each other’s presence.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

We both just sipped, staring out at the glint of the sea under moonlight, the air quiet enough to hear the city hum.

Then Charles said, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever miss it? Being just us?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because I knew what he meant. Not out of jealousy, not from lack of love—but from the ache of growing up. Of your worlds expanding in opposite directions.

Sometimes it was just easier when it was the two of us, sharing bunk beds and stolen cookies, futures still unwritten and intertwined.

I leaned your shoulder into his, like I had a thousand times before.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss it. But I wouldn’t trade this version either.”

He glanced over. “Even with Lando?”

I gave him a look. “Especially with Lando.”

Charles sighed dramatically, resting his head back. “Still weird.”

“You’re going to be weird about it forever, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Then, after a pause, more serious: “But he makes you better. You smile more when he’s around.”

I blinked, taken off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You always took care of everyone else,” he added, “but now… someone’s taking care of you.”

And there it was—that twin intuition, cracking my chest open in the way only Charles could. The way he always saw me, even when you didn’t want to be seen.

I reached over, laced my pinky with his like i used to when i was little and scared of the dark.

“I’ve always had someone taking care of me,” I whispered.

He looked down at my pinky looped through his. Then nodded once, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“Happy birthday, Jules.”

“Happy birthday, Charlie.”

—

Charles had left to join Alexandra with something.

The rooftop was empty now.

The last of the laughter had faded. The champagne flutes were cleared. The music had stopped humming through the speakers. And somewhere below, Monaco slept beneath a blanket of soft moonlight and glittering sea.

I was still barefoot, my heels abandoned somewhere near the door. Lando was behind me—quiet, lingering—watching the way my hair moved in the night breeze, the curve of my back as you leaned against the railing, still sipping the last of my birthday espresso like it was wine.

Neither of us had said much in the last few minutes. The silence didn’t need to be filled. It felt like something sacred now, this stillness. A pause between chapters.

Lando stepped forward.

I turned, and mybeyes softened the second they met his.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” I teased lightly, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not out of sadness. Just something deeper. Quieter. His fingers found mine, weaving through them carefully, like he was memorizing the shape of my hand all over again.

“I’ve been carrying something with me all night,” he said.

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his free hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket—pulling out a small, black velvet box.

My breath got caught in my chest.

“Lan—”

“I didn’t want to do it during the party,” he said quickly, voice low and steady. “Not in front of everyone. Not with Max yelling and your brother two seconds away from tackling me.”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. My heart was racing.

“I wanted it to be just you. Just me.” He looked around the empty rooftop. “Just this.”

Slowly, he sank to one knee, the box still unopened in his hand.

And suddenly it was like everything stilled. The sea. The stars. My pulse.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I realized how fiercely you love everyone else,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the way you carry the weight of the world and still find room for joy. The way you laugh like it’s the first time every time. The way you hold onto people so tightly that they never want to let go.”

He paused, smiling slightly. “You made space for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone again.”

He opened the box.

The ring inside was simple. Elegant. Timeless.

The way he thought of me.

“Jules Leclerc,” he breathed. “Will you marry me?”

I didn’t answer at first.

Because I was crying. Silently. Full-bodied, chest-aching tears—the kind that came from being seen so completely, so intimately, i didn’t know how to hold it all at once.

And then, through the blur of tears and the shaking breath, i whispered:

“Yes.”

He was up before I finished the word, arms around me, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my smile. We were both laughing and crying and saying I love you like it was the only language we knew.

Somewhere down below, the waves kissed the shore.

But up here?

Up here, time stopped.

And forever began.

—

I didn’t sleep that night.

Neither of us did.

Between the adrenaline, the endless kisses, the whispered “fiancé” muttered every five minutes just to hear how it sounded… we were floating.

Morning came fast.

The Monaco sun filtered through the curtains of the apartment, and I sat cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, oversized hoodie swallowed over my knees—his hoodie, of course. Lando paced with two mugs of coffee in hand and nerves in his throat.

“You sure we’re ready for this?” he asked, even as he handed me a cup.

I raised a brow. “What, telling my family? The people who’ve loved me through every single meltdown, breakup, and panic attack I’ve ever had?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Then absolutely not.”

He groaned, dropping next to me on the couch. I reached over and took his hand.

“They love you, Lan,” I whispered, pressing my thumb into the curve of his palm. “And they love us.”

“You sure Charles won’t try to tackle me?”

“Eighty percent.”

He gave me a side-eye. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

A Few Hours Later

It was casual on the surface: a quiet brunch with Charles, Arthur, and maman. We done this dozens of times. Croissants, espresso, sunlight. Maman flitting between the kitchen and the table, humming to herself.

But Charles had been eyeing us both for a solid ten minutes now.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked finally, fork paused mid-air. “You’re smiling like… serial killers.”

Arthur leaned back and smirked. “They’re definitely hiding something.”

I locked eyes with Lando. He gave a slight nod. It was time.

I stood up slowly, heart pounding, holding up my left hand.

The room froze.

“Jules,” maman whispered, one hand already rising to her mouth.

“We’re engaged,”I said softly, my voice cracking from the weight of it. “Lando proposed last night. After the party.”

Charles blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

And then—“You proposed after my toast?!”

Lando laughed nervously. “I swear I didn’t plan it like that.”

Maman was already pulling me into her arms, wiping tears from her cheeks as she whispered a prayer in French and kissed the side of my face. Arthur stood, grinning wide as he pulled Lando into a too-tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Charles, meanwhile, just sat there.

Silent.

Until he looked up at Lando with a sigh and stood.

Everyone held their breath.

Then—he walked around the table, stopped in front of Lando, and pulled him into a hug so tight, so genuine, it made my eyes sting.

“Just don’t break her heart,” he whispered into Lando’s ear.

“I won’t,” Lando promised.

“I’ll know if you do.”

“I know you will.”

Charles pulled back and nodded once before glancing over at you. “I hate that you’re gonna be a Norris,” he muttered.

I beamed. “I’m not. I’m keeping Leclerc.”

He fist-pumped. “Yes!”

“I have to go call Alex and Charlotte to start wedding planning!” I said grabbing Maman and entering the house, leaving the boys on the balcony.

Later That Evening

The nerves came rushing back as the video call loaded.

Lando and I sat curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under his, laptop perched on the coffee table between two mugs of tea we hadn’t touched. First on screen was Oli, then Flo, their eyes immediately narrowing like they sensed something was up.

“Okay,” Flo said, squinting. “You’re both sitting suspiciously close. Did you get a puppy?”

“No way, it’s a turtle,” Oli added. “You guys totally look like turtle people.”

And then, Cisca’s face appeared on screen—her familiar smile already easing the nerves in your chest. She looked cozy at home, a glass of wine in hand, gaze flicking between her son and the woman curled into his side.

“What’s going on?” she asked, the first to speak gently. “You’ve got that look, Lando. The same one you had when you drove a kart for the first time.”

Lando cleared his throat, fingers squeezing mine a little tighter. I nodded towards him.

He took a breath.

“We got engaged.”

There was a beat of silence—and then chaos.

Flo screamed, instantly flailing off-screen in excitement. Oli shouted “NO WAY” like it was breaking news. And Cisca—her hand flew to her mouth, tears already springing to her eyes before the rest of the sentence was even out. Adam just had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

“You—really?” she whispered, blinking.

Lando smiled at her, all soft and proud. “Yeah, Mum. I asked her last night. After the party. She said yes.”

My hand lifted automatically, showing them the ring, and Flo reappeared on-screen with a dramatic gasp that nearly made me almost drop the laptop.

“Wait—oh my god. Jules. That’s so pretty.”

“I love it,” Cisca said softly, still a little breathless, her eyes fixed on me now. “I always hoped… but I never wanted to say too much.”

“You made a damn good choice, son.” Adam said causing lando to smile.

“I know.”

I smiled and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I love him,” I said quietly. “And I love this family already.”

That’s when Cisca’s voice wavered, eyes glassy.

“And now you’re part of it. Officially.” She blinked rapidly, then laughed, wiping her cheek. “God, look at me. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“Too late,” Oli teased.

Flo cut in, practically vibrating. “We need to plan a trip! I need to give you an in-person scream hug!”

Lando leaned closer to the screen. “We’ll come soon. Promise.”

The call stretched into an hour—stories, questions, wedding hints. And through it all, Cisca kept looking at me the way a mother does when she knows her son is going to be okay. When she sees the kind of love that doesn’t just burn, but lasts.

And just before the call ended, she reached toward the camera, like she could touch me through the screen.

“I hope you know,” she said, voice thick with love, “I already thought of you as part of our family. But now, I get to call you my daughter.”

My eyes stung again.

“I’d be honored,” I whispered.

Lando reached over, brushing a thumb over my cheek as the screen faded to black.

“She loves you, you know.”

I turned my head, smiling. “I know.”

“And so do I.”

__

paddock reactions! to the engagement

Race weekends were always a blur—flights, media, strategy meetings, adrenaline and tire smoke. But this weekend? This weekend felt different.

Because now there was a ring on my finger.

And the world didn’t know. Yet.

It started quietly.

Whispers. Curious glances. Subtle gestures between Lando and I —his hand always brushing over mine, his eyes softer than usual when he looked at me. The drivers noticed first, of course. They always did.

It was Oscar who caught it.

I was in the McLaren motorhome, mid-conversation with Lando about telemetry or tire wear—or pretending to be—when Oscar passed by, paused, backtracked, and squinted.

“Is that…?” He pointed to my hand, blinking. “Are you engaged?!”

I froze.

Lando burst out laughing.

And that was all it took.

An Hour Later

I wasn’t sure who told who next—Oscar or Carlos—but suddenly it felt like the entire paddock knew.

George cornered Lando during the cooldown after FP1. “Mate, you didn’t even text the group chat?!”

Alex demanded to know how many people knew before him. (The answer was two—my brother and my mother—and he still sulked.)

Lewis gave me a quiet hug in the Ferrari hospitality unit later, whispering, “You two are beautiful together. Protect that.”

Pierre almost tackled me in the hallway. “You said nothing in the driver’s lounge? Rude.”

He had always been like another brother to me.

Esteban handed me a croissant like it was a wedding gift.

And Sebastian Vettel, who just happened to be visiting that weekend, pulled Lando into a firm, fatherly hug and said, “She’s brilliant. You’re lucky.”

But it was the moment with Max that made me laugh the hardest.

He walked up with his arms crossed, glanced at my hand, and raised a brow. “Guess I lost the bet with Charles.”

I blinked. “You bet on us?”

“I said he’d wait until the off-season. Clearly, I underestimated his emotional impulsiveness.”

I turned to Lando. “That sounds like an insult.”

“It was,” Max said with a shrug, then smirked. “Congrats though. Genuinely.”

And then, of course, came the group photo.

The McLaren media team, never ones to miss a moment, pulled us both aside at golden hour behind the garage. Someone handed me a bouquet of orange pit boards tied with ribbon, and before i knew it, we were both posing, grinning like idiots, Lando’s arm around my waist and my hand—ring and all—pressed against his chest.

The caption was simple when they posted it:

“She said yes.”

I found Charles leaning against a pit wall, watching the sun sink low over the track.

“You okay?”I asked, sliding next to him.

He didn’t look at me right away. “You’re not my little sister anymore, you know.”

I nudged his shoulder. “Was I ever? It’s only four minutes, Cha.”

“Still feels like it sometimes,” he murmured. Then, after a pause, he added, “He makes you happy.”

I nodded. “He does.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

He finally turned to look at me—his eyes a little glassy, though he’d never admit it.

“But if he messes it up…”

“I know,” I grinned. “You’ll ruin his life.”

Charles smirked. “Exactly.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc is with lando

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 12,378,368 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : can’t wait to spend forever with you

—

comments on this post have been limited.

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story.

{caption ; my sister is getting married!! time to start wedding planning}

seen by charles_leclerc, lando, arthur_Leclerc and 338,378 others.

lando : she is an angel- so perfect

alexandrasaintmleux : truly!

—

part four done! let me know what you guys think — requests always open. thank you for all the support 💐💐

[connorsui]

“Out of all the things that could have happened today... this is at the bottom of the list,” Megumi deadpanned, his arms crossed as he watched the floating toddler.

Yuuji, on the verge of losing it, waved his hands frantically. “How do we get her down!? Gojo-sensei is going to be coming back soon!”

“I didn’t even know she had this much cursed energy to begin with! How is it possible she’s already out and about like this!?” Nobara added, eyes wide with disbelief.

Before anyone could come up with a solution, the giggling toddler blinked out of existence, causing all three students to simultaneously shout, "Eh!?"

“She’s...” Megumi began.

“She’s gone!?” They all said in unison, now staring at the empty space where the child once was.

“What do we do!?” Yuuji panicked, grabbing at his hair.

“This wouldn’t have happened if Kugisaki hadn’t demanded we go out on one of her shopping sprees!” Megumi shot back.

“Oi! Don’t you dare pin this on me! You two were supposed to be the ones looking after her!” Nobara snapped, pushing Megumi with a sharp glare.

Before the argument could escalate, a familiar, lazy voice interrupted them.

“Now, now, let’s not fight over something soo cute.”

All three turned, only to find Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his wife by his side, cradling their daughter in her arms. The toddler was happily babbling and playing with her mother’s hair, seemingly unaware of the chaos she had caused.

“Gojo-sensei…” Yuuji mumbled, face turning pale.

“Umm... where did she teleport to?” Nobara asked cautiously.

Gojo grinned behind his blindfold. “Not too far. You kids are lucky... my precious little bundle of joy decided to teleport straight to us!”

You smiled warmly at the trio before your expression turned more concerned. “Are you three okay? Yuuji, you look like you’re—”

“I’m fine!” Yuuji interrupted quickly, attempting a smile that only made him look more distressed.

Nobara cleared her throat. “Are we going to get punished for this by any chance?”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Hmm, I don’t know... Let’s ask the missus here.” He turned to you with a teasing grin. “What do you think, my love? Should we punish these kids for allowing our precious baby of adorable life to almost get away?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glare crossing your face. “Punish them? If anyone’s getting punished, it’s going to be you, Satoru! You were supposed to be watching her!”

Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji watched in stunned silence as you and Gojo bickered, their eyes darting between the two of you. Gojo’s dramatic pout grew deeper as you scolded him.

“I leave her with you, and everything just goes to chaos!”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped, his exaggerated sulking only causing your daughter to giggle harder as she watched her father silently sulk. “cmoonnnn you know I didn't mean too?”

You cut him off with a sigh, adjusting your hold on your daughter, who had now buried her face in your neck. “sure you dont”

The three students shifted awkwardly as Gojo dramatically sighed once more, still sulking. He leaned in toward his daughter, who was still giggling at his antics.

“Your mom is so scary, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I heard that.”

Gojo laughed, his usual carefree demeanor back in full force. “Alright, alright. No harm done, right? She’s back safe and sound. So, no punishment for the kids. I think I’ve suffered enough.”

You smiled softly at him, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Satoru.”

“But thats why yooou loooove me,” he teased, flashing you that signature smile.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately for me, yes.”

Behind you, the trio silently muttered to themselves: “why do we have to deal with this"