#you guys are actually giving me anxiety about it

[ellecdc]

hello!! its me again😜, I've had this hyperfixation on poly!maraudersx reader x lily trope . I was wondering you can make an ff of like the reader is in another house and is a quidditch player, and theres a match between gryffindor and her perspective house and she feels really anxious because if her house won she would let them down and if gryffindor won she would feel guilty ro celebrate with them. 🩷🩷

this was a very cute idea!! thank you for the prompt <3

poly!marauders + Lily x fem!reader who plays for Hufflepuff [1.2k words]

CW: reader is in Hufflepuff, no house rivalry between our lovers

This game had been causing you more anxiety than you cared to admit.

Somehow, this far into your relationship with the Gryffindor’s, you haven’t had to play against the Gryffindor house since the season started, which seemed very odd considering they were one of only three teams that you could play.

But alas, you had managed to avoid the awkwardness of not only cheering against your partners’ team, but actually playing against two of them for a blissful stretch of time. 

Your luck had run out, however, and you could avoid it no longer as the Hufflepuff keeper. 

You found yourself in a tough position; if Hufflepuff lost, you’d feel horribly traitorous to be celebrating the Gryffindor team, but you couldn’t not celebrate when two of your boyfriend’s played for the team. However, if Hufflepuff won, you’d feel terribly guilty celebrating, feeling as though you were rubbing your victory in their faces. 

Either way, you were bound to lose.

So when Hufflepuff won, your feet had barely touched the ground before you were leaping from your broom and racing off the pitch, bypassing the showers at the quidditch pitch and fleeing to your dormitory, quickly showering and changing and making it to the kitchens before the no doubt raucous after-party could begin in the Hufflepuff common room.

This was better, you decided. This way you wouldn’t be rubbing your win in your partners’ faces; Remus and Lily wouldn’t have to worry about hurting Sirius and James’ feelings, and Sirius and James wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy for your sake. 

“Should Miss not be in her dormitory to celebrate?” Feenky asked as you watched her prepare a batch of pumpkin juice. 

“It’s just a party of one tonight, Feenky.” You reassured her. If she seemed unconvinced, she didn’t mention it.

“Well, Feenky thinks that Feenky has something for an athlete such as yourself around here somewhere.” She mumbled mostly to herself as she abandoned her task to search for something in some sort of storage closet. 

“There you are, angel!” You heard James shout, startling you so badly that you flinched almost violently and sent a mug of pumpkin juice toppling off of the kitchen island that you were leaning against.

With a lazy flick of her wand (and a haughty smirk), Lily quickly righted your cup and set it gently back down on the island before it could make contact with the ground. 

You grimaced as you turned to face your four partners, ready to be scolded for running off the pitch without saying hello to anyone, for winning the game, or for hiding, you weren’t sure. But you found your mouth falling open in shock as you turned to see your four Gryffindor’s completely decked out in Hufflepuff colours. 

“Wha-” You started, but quickly had the air knocked out of you when Sirius pulled you into him and spun you around.

“You were fucking fantastic!” He exclaimed as he put you back down onto your feet, hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling you in for a searing kiss.

It was only when you finally pulled away from Sirius (only to be pulled backwards into James’ front) did you notice that his hair was still wet from his own post-game shower.

“What are you guys doing down here?” You managed finally.

“We rushed after the game to come down for your after-party!” James responded for you, pressing a kiss to your jaw before relinquishing his hold on you when Lily came in for her own. 

“You really did look phenomenal out there, darling.” She murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I wasn’t surprised, though. If anyone can give these two a well earned run for their money, it’s you.” 

“Thank Merlin.” Remus muttered with a fond eye roll, ignoring one indignant ‘oi!’ from James and one ‘we duel at dawn, Moony’ from Sirius as he leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so proud of you.” He continued earnestly.

“You guys aren’t upset?” You asked, hating how small you sounded. Hating even more the way the four of them nearly recoiled in surprise before sharing confused glances with one another.

“Upset?” Sirius repeated bemusedly. “Why on earth would we be upset?” 

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant as your face heated up nearly painfully in embarrassment. “Well…I-”

“Angel,” James cooed as he placed a hand on each of your upper arms and forced you to look at him, “did you think we were going to be upset that you beat us?”

“Well-” You attempted to explain, but Lily interjected.

“Can you blame the poor girl? You two are not gracious losers in the slightest.” She taunted, squealing when Sirius jabbed his fingers into her sides and tickled her in punishment for ‘the absolute slander you ridiculous, beautiful witch’.

“Nah.” James offered casually. “I’m happy to lose to our girl any day. Everyone else better watch their backs, though.”

“You guys are insane.” You sighed not unhappily, leaning back into James’ embrace as he nestled his face into the juncture of your neck.

“Is that why you’re hiding in here, dove? You weren’t going to celebrate at all?” Remus asked you softly, and Lily and Sirius both paused in their banter in order to tune back into the conversation. 

“It felt sort of…rude…” You admitted shyly, and Remus’ fond ‘awe’ and Lily’s saccharine ‘our sweet girl’ did nothing to tame the fire now roaring beneath your cheeks as James tightened his embrace around your middle and spun you around.

“Well now we’re just going to celebrate you that much harder! Our sweet little puffle.” He nearly sang as he placed you back onto your feet, Sirius arching his brow and gesturing to himself. 

“You haven't commented on how good we look, dollface.”

You weren’t even sure where they all got Hufflepuff jumpers, cardigans, and scarves from, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask when they looked so sodding cute.

“I think I look smashing in yellow.” Sirius continued simply, nodding at his own decree as he looked to the rest of you for agreement. 

“Honestly? I think it might be Rem’s new colour.” Lily stated earnestly, and the four of you got to watch Remus blush furiously as you all fussed over how well he wore the colour yellow. 

“Alright, alright. Enough chit chat.” Remus demanded; both an attempt to redirect the conversation from himself and an attempt to leave the kitchens. “We have a party to attend and a Hufflepuff to celebrate.” 

You accepted his extended hand and he pulled it up to his lips for a kiss before the five of you made your way out of the kitchens and followed the sounds of the thrumming bass pulsing from your common room.

[mattsturnioloz]

Then I lost you.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, unresolved angst (maybe)

A/N: (guys this is my first fic so please bear with me😭 l would love some feedback or tips though!!)

I was sitting on the couch scrolling through my phone and channel surfing, waiting for my boyfriend, Matt, to get back from filming a car video with his brothers, Chris and Nick. But over the course of the last couple of months, Matt has been distant and there was a rather uncomfortable feeling sitting in my chest. He would make up excuses as to why he couldn't hang out with me like he was filming, editing or streaming. It made me overthink. Did I do something? Does he still love- No, of course he still loves me. Right?

It was all too much and it gave me anxiety. Sure, I understand his career as a Youtuber can be a handful but I can't help but feel a bit neglected and it makes me feel guilty.. I sit there thinking for a moment, taking in the cool autumn smell that roamed through the house, listening to the patter of the soft rain drops falling onto the windows, trying to think of a way that I could get Matt to spend time with me.

I decide to cook a nice dinner for matt and I or at least attempt to, so I stand up and I head to the kitchen and decide on some ravioli which takes me about an hour but I did it.

Flashback

"What are you gonna get to eat?" | asked Matt.

"I'm not sure.. you know for a fancy restaurant, you'd think they'd have a variety of options." He says before raising his eyebrow at me, showing me the menu and we both chuckle.

"Our first date and i'm already messing up huh?" He says with a nervous chuckle.

"What?? No! you're not messing up i'm having fun." I said with a smile, reaching over the table to hold his hand and he gave me a lighthearted smile.

"Ravioli is the only decent thing they got here, think i'll go with that." He says closing the menu. "See? It's not all that bad, I just so happen to love ravioli. I think I can go for some too.” I smile.

Present

I set up the table with bowls and utensils before making my way to the bathroom and realize that look a bummy mess so l spend the rest of the time I had left before he got back to make myself look at least a little presentable. I feel an overwhelming but nice sense of excitement to spend time with him again. I change into a casual but nice outfit and decide to do a simple and natural makeup look.

I soon hear the sound of the front door opening and chattering following behind it. I make my way out of the room to greet Matt who was laughing with chris and nick.

"Hey baby! How was filming??" | say almost too enthusiastically but I was too excited to keep my cool. "It was alright." He says nonchalantly, which makes me turn my happy demeanor down a notch.

Chris goes downstairs to get ready for something and Nick goes upstairs to do the same. Leaving matt and I alone which was perfect so I take the chance.

"I made-" before I could say anything Matt interrupted me. "Hey, me nick and chris are gonna go to top golf with madi, and nate so I might be home a little late." My heart sinks and i'm flushed with dread but I don't give up so easily.

"Well I actually made dinner for us.. I was hoping we could spend a little time together since we haven't in a while." | say fiddling with my necklace getting a bit anxious.

"I'm sure it's amazing baby but I should go get ready, Save me some yeah?" He says, placing a gentle kiss on my temple before he walks towards our shared bedroom to get ready.

I sit at the table where our food is now cold and I feel a lump in my throat followed by a cold sinking feeling in my chest.

658 words.

A/N: (This is sloppy and I kind of hate it, js wanted to try this out to see what yall think. if you guys like it, i'll keep writing, if not then im never writing again and since it's my first fic I kept it short but if you guys like it, i'll make the next parts longer 🫶🏼)

Taglist: @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @imwetforyourmom

[iinoyb]

Hello can I offer you an omegaverse arranged marriage Techno/Ranboo AU in these trying times?

Ranboo is the prince of a kingdom, heir to the throne. He is also an alpha. The rules of this country are that a royal cannot claim the crown before they have a mate, which in noble circles usually happens from the age of 20 upward, with most being mated by the age of 25 or so. They're often arranged marriages, with the omega getting little say in the matter.

Ranboo's parents died when he was younger. He has a capable regent who has been leading the country with his input, but as he turns 20 he is eager to get a mate so he can get the throne.

As is custom, a bunch of nobleborn omegas who are unmated are brought to parade in front of Ranboo, each hoping to win his favor and be the future queen of the country. Ranboo tells himself that he has little interest in who his mate is (normally his parents would pick for him anyway, Ranboo hates the decision anxiety), as he's more concerned with the whole coronation thing.

Until his eyes fall on an omega who stands out a little from the rest.

The omega in question is probably the oldest there at 24 years of age. He is tall for an omega (though still several inches shorter than Ranboo), more muscled than omegas usually are (though it doesn't completely hide the more curved, soft edges of the typical omega physique). He has scars, and long pink hair in a half-updo with braids, and he is wearing a long, red dress with details of lace, a bodice that hugs his chest a little too tight, and a high slit in the side that reveals maybe a bit too much of those powerful thighs that could crush Ranboo's head like a grape.

Ranboo might be an alpha but this poor guy is whipped.

So he has an instant interest, that only heightens as he interacts with the omega and gets to experience that dry wit, the clever mind, the spirited nature. He has non-traditional hobbies for an omega: horseback riding, archery, sword fighting. This is an omega unlike any Ranboo has ever met. One that isn't looking to bow down to an alpha ruler.

Obviously, not all omegas are completely submissive, but in the noble cirlces most omegas are raised on more traditional values. So this one is an outlier.

His name is Techno from house Blade.

Ranboo's advisors try to disuade him from the match. They say there are some nasty rumors about Techno. Common belief is that Techno was mated at age 18 like most omegas are, to a young alpha from a noble family. The alpha in question was a not good person though, and a not good mate. He was abusive, and evil, and wanted his omega to be a sex slave but nothing more.

Rumor has it that Techno snapped and killed the alpha when he couldn't stand it anymore.

(Rumor would be correct.)

The matter was more or less swept under the rug, but no other alpha would consider giving Techno a second look. A lot of them were scared to end the same as Techno's original mate. Others didn't bother with an omega who wasn't a virgin anymore, who had been bitten and marked and soiled by another alpha once. Others were disgusted and turned off by the idea of a mate who was so independant and not submissive. And maybe a very few actually were traditional enough to believe that omegas really should be just sex slaves, so they weren't keen on Techno either.

But Ranboo has decided. This is the omega he wants. He's sold. Head over heels, "mommy? sorry.... mommy?" vibes.

The marriage is arranged (and slightly against Techno's will initially) though Ranboo knows that he wants to do right by Techno and win his trust, slowly peeling back layer by layer, and showing Techno how nice it can be to have a good mate.

And hey, maybe eventually Techno even trusts him enough to show his softer, submissive side. Because trust me Techno definitely has one ;)

[moeblob]

I am really tired of a situation rn.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[todayisafridaynight]

no ones ever gonna understand how much i love daigo doin this stupid shit after dissolving the tojo

[incorrect-riordanverse]

im so mad that this is a side blog account and not a main account. i started this blog when i was still relatively new to tumblr and i think i was… like. fourteen years old or something. i never thought i would continue for this long, and i never knew so many people would like the content i put out here (i have over 9k followers which is literally mind-blowing, like wow….).

because this isnt a main account, i cant respond to replies left on my posts, i cant really reply to anyone unless i reblog !! i cant even follow people with this blog, it just comes up as my main blog (which is not pjo-related… rip my failed attempts at organising my fandoms to different blogs). so my avenues of interaction with a lot of you are seriously impeded.

so i just want to say i am so thankful for all of you, i read every single person’s tags who reblog my stuff, i read all of your replies and every time im crying screaming rolling around on the ground in agony over the fact i CANT REPLY!!

i know my posts are super inconsistent these days, im glad so many are still here! i think i may change some of my content eventually (never gonna get rid of the incorrect quote stuff, i’ll just be adding some other things like pjo headcanons or analyses or something), just to spice some stuff up on here.

[princessmyriad]

.

[gaytobymeres]

i am going to be one of those annoying photography people. sorry.

[constant-state-of-self-discovery]

Starting to think I need to reevaluate who I follow on this site.... Not even in a moral sense just as preferences. Y'all are loudly and unabashedly horny all over my dash and I adore that for you but god damn does it make me uncomfortable/hj

[britneyshakespeare]

i am like. unreasonably mad right now.

[autism-corner]

always caught between 'im taking necessary rest' and 'actually im probably just avoiding hard things and am plain weak' =3=

[floral-hex]

okay, so lil steroid shot seemingly hasn’t done much for my breathing, but it did give me a bit of… uh… *squints at side effects* insomnia and sore butt

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Is That A Promise? (Venom One-Shot)

Eddie Brock x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Telling you about Venom does not go entirely how Eddie planned.

CW: mentions of monster fucking, Eddie is oblivious and a dumbass (I think I have a type)

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’d known Eddie Brock a good while by this point. You’d started dating him a while back, and while he put others on edge, you’d found the way he talked to himself out loud rather charming, actually. 

At first, you weren’t sure if he was just unmedicated, or undiagnosed. But then the news broke about the symbiote, and then there was the footage. And when Eddie started coming home right after news broke of some other attack or taking out of a bad guy or criminal or whoever, you’d put two and two together. 

It was kind of hard not to. Particularly as his conversations with himself could vary from topic to topic in the span of six words or less.

 

Eddie had asked to meet up for lunch today at your favourite restaurant. He’d seemed a bit off on the phone, and given how prone you were to anxiety, your immediate thought had been that he was breaking up with you and that you’d done something to upset him or his bodily guest- who you did not officially know about, of course. 

You’d gotten there early to prepare yourself for whatever shitshow was about to follow and to your immense surprise, Eddie had shown up pretty much right after you. Eddie was always running late, so this change in pace was also mildly concerning. You were not sure how this was going to go and you did not like that one bit. 

“You’re here early, too,” Eddie had said, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact. You nodded, and cleared your throat, gesturing for him to sit down at the table opposite you. 

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we had a spot,” you replied, smoothing down your shirt. Bit of a nervous habit. That and ripping at your nails, but that was beside the point. 

“Right,” Eddie replied. 

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. You spent a good five to ten minutes appearing to read over the menu as if this wasn’t a regular spot for you and you didn’t know exactly what you were going to order. In fact, you’d be surprised if the cooks weren’t already making it up for you even though a waiter hadn’t come over yet. 

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed quietly. You peered over the menu to eye him curiously, one brow arced in question. 

“I didn’t say anything, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, I know. I- uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed, and put the menu down to give him your attention. 

“About me shutting up?” 

“No- God, this is not going at all like I planned.” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

You said nothing, waiting patiently for him to work out his wording.

 

���I really like you,” he started, and you nodded, replying with the same sentiment. “And, well, there’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”

 

“Right…” This is where you expected him to tell you he was married (doubtful but not impossible) or had cancer or something terrible. Dear God, please no. 

“Look- you’ve seen on the news, yes, the, uh- the attacks. Yeah?” 

You nod. Ah, so he was finally telling you about his friend living literally rent-free in his body. Okay, you could relax a little. 

“He’s me. Venom, he lives in my body. He’s in my head. Like, all the time. Right now.” 

Eddie looked at the table where he was picking at the tablecloth. You were silent for a second, and Eddie clearly took that to mean you were horrified or disgusted or something. You were a little nervous about it, sure, but you’d also been living with him for the last few months. If Venom was planning to take you out, he would have done so by now, surely. You figured this to mean you were safe enough. You’d also seen your fair share of monster porn, so you weren’t exactly unkeen on the idea of dating someone who sometimes had a monster body. It was kind of hot, actually. You shook the thought out of your head and tried to focus.

“Oh, yeah- I knew about that,” you replied, and the way Eddie’s head snapped towards you was almost comical. 

“You what?”

 

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

 

Eddie blinked, and a black residue appeared on the back of his hand. It swirled and gathered on his hand before reaching for you delicately. You met it, brushing your finger over it softly. The goop (for lack of a better word) seemed to shiver pleasurably and you smiled.

 

“Can I meet him later?” 

Eddie nodded, watching the interaction with disbelief. He’d thought that you’d go running and screaming through the doors or something, not be rubbing your fingers over Venom like you were fingering some Play-Doh. 

“Y-yeah, later,” he agreed. “Not here. When we get home.”

 

You grinned and the black substance retreated back into Eddie’s skin as a waiter appeared by your table. 

“What can I get for you? The regular?” 

You looked at Eddie and clicked your tongue thoughtfully. 

“The usual with a serving of chicken nuggets on the side, please.”

 

The waiter nodded, scribbled it own on his pad and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie looked at you in question. He knew you weren’t big on nuggets. 

“They’re for Venom,” you explained, propping your head up on your palm. Eddie looked to the side as if listening to something carefully. 

“Venom says thank you-” Eddie said before cutting himself as Venom said something else in his head. “No, I’m not saying that. No. No.” 

“Say what?”

Eddie sighed defeatedly- something you think he did a lot when it came to Venom. 

“Venom said he could kiss you right now.” Eddie looked mortified as the words left his mouth. You burst into laughter. 

“Is that a threat or a promise? I hope it’s a promise,” you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at the two of them. 

Eddie swallowed thickly and blushed as Venom said something else. You’d have to see if Venom could swap hosts sometime. It would be nice to have a conversation while out and about like that. 

“Promise,” Eddie replied. 

Good.