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captain-lessship · 1 year

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Toffee Pt. 3: Professor

You were walking the platform, having agreed to watch the students, specifically the first years get on the train. You were talking to a familiar face when you saw a ginger-haired and a dark-haired pair of boys, you did a double take.

"Ronald Weasley!" you said, smiling.

"Professor! How're you? You get to teach Fred and George, good luck."

"Aw, those two are my favorites! I am excited to see you around, Ronnie. If you and your..." you looked at the boy that was beside him and a million memories flashed into your mind. Her laugh, his laugh, his hair he combed with a little too much gel, her eyes that glowed hot with hope, her smile, his smile. You smiled, "Your friend ever need anything, do not hesitate to ask!"

Two ginger suck up behind you and screamed making you, turn around and swat at them. "Oh, you two! Always causing issues, aren't ya?"

"C'mon Professor Show Harry the bird!" Fred said.

"Unless you've gotten rusty, that is! You're what 3-" George stop when he saw you pull out your wand and a coin, "George if you know what's best for you, you will not finish that sentence." You threw the coin into the air and smiled as you swished your wand, turning the coin into a bluebird that fluttered up to the light to roost. You looked at Ron and Harry.

"You will learn a lot of magic at Hogwarts. You should have fun but," you thought about all the trouble James got into, "try not to get in trouble, dearies."

And one of the first things they did was get in trouble. Alerted by your students looking out the window, you watched from your tower in bewilderment as Harry seemed to be taunted by a blonde boy. Along with your students that were now crowded beside the windows, you watched as the blonde threw a ball of some sort and he flew and caught it with skill no first-year-first lesson should have taught. You would have a talk with him later but as he landed, Professor McGonagall walked out and took him off. You knew Gryffindor was searching for a new seeker and you grinned as you thought about him on the quidditch pitch.

You silenced your students before returning to face the blackboard, "Alright alright, shows over! Back to your seats, you have an ess- George, put that can opener down."

"You got eyes in the back of your head Professor."

Eventually, your class was over and you were walking to the Great Hall, book in hand. You stopped when you came to a certain window: It was where you and Remus would meet and sneak up to the astronomy tower. You smiled as you thought of your husband but scowled, he should be here teaching instead of doing hard labor that made his hands calloused and cracked.

You would return to him over the holidays as it was your rotation turn to go home. All the teachers had agreed to draw lots years ago that were marked with numbers between one and three and whichever you drew, that was your group. Having drawn a two, you had to stay last year but you would return to your quaint little house for Christmas. It was very early to be thinking about it but you grew excited. You were so caught up in thought until you heard your voice, you jumped and looked to see a short-haired girl in a Gryffindor robe.

"Apologies, Do you need something?"

"I have a few questions about your class and what it includes."

You were confused since the girl had to have been a first year, "Oh I don't think you ne-"

"I know a lot about muggles, being muggle-born, will that make it to where I can't take your class?"

"Oh, no, it won't. "

"Okay! Thank you, Professor. I'm Hermione Granger." She extended her hand and you reached for it. Something about her reminded you of yourself.

"Don't worry about my class, Miss Granger. It's two years away. You need to focus on the ones you have and enjoy your first year."

"I will! I will, Professor Lupin, I will."

You and the girl walked to the Great Hall, talking about her classes and how you'd be willing to tutor her during your free period, which she gladly accepted. You saw her to the Gryffindor table before smiling and waving bye to her as she sat down and you walked to take your seat at your table.

"Oh my god, Professor Lupin is just amazing! She offered to tutor me!" she shook with excitement. Harry looked at Ron.

"Isn't she the one we saw at the platform?"

"Yea. She is a family friend"

"You know her?!" Hermione asked Ron.

"Yeah, She always gives Mum Christmas cards and cookies."

The Twins nosed into the conversation, "Yeah, Ron used to have a crush on her." Fred said, queuing George to speak as well, "You cried for days when Mum broke it to you you couldn't date her"

"I was like four, I didn't know any better!" Ron justified.

You giggled and shook your head as you overheard the conversation, you sipped from your cup before turning to Severus, "So... I heard you fussed at Harry."

He looked up from his food with an irritated expression, "He's just like his father."

"Have you even talked to him?"

"No. You haven't either."

You rolled your eyes at him, "Hating him won't hurt James." you scoffed.

He just stared at his cup, you sighed, it was hard for him especially since you, him, and Albus had agreed not to talk about it with Harry and not seek out conversations about his parents and what you knew about them. You both thought it was a great disservice but agreed. Your job, with all students not just Harry was to keep them safe. But Harry seemed to have trouble following him.

You held your hands tightly together as you watched the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match. It was the first match of the season and Harry's first-ever match. And it was not looking good for Gryffindor, they had lost their Keeper, Oliver Wood, and two of their chasers. You didn't like preferring one house over the other but you were loyal to Hufflepuff first and Gryffindor second so you were cheering them on and wearing Remus's Gryffindor scar from your school days that he had sent when you wrote to him about it in advance.

Suddenly, Harry's broom seemed to be acting weird, you looked at the people beside you, and questions of how and why were floating about. You pulled out your wand, subconsciously readying yourself to cast a spell to grab him before he hit the ground but you smelled burning from a few rows down, you saw that Snape's cloak had lit ablaze and he was stomping it out. It distracted the people in your stand from the fact Harry was now on his broom chasing the Golden Snitch. You watched as he dipped to fly just above the ground and crashed. You let out a yelp and an Aw. Harry stood up, dirty and looking as if he was going to hurl but instead of his breakfast, it was a golden sphere. Cheers erupted from everyone. Except for the Slytherins.

You were sipping your drink when Qurriel ran in, screaming about a troll, in the dungeon until he reached the end of the house tables and fainted. You stood up and grabbed your wand but Dumbledore erupted with a 'Silence'. He ordered the houses to go back to their common rooms. You hurried to the Hufflepuss tables to count heads with the Prefect and Professor Sprout. You walked with them until you noticed a pair of boys running off to the girl's bathroom. You alerted Sprout and went to get your fellow Professors.

You were packing up your personal items when you heard a knock on your door, "Come in!" you chimed, your voice rich with excitement. You had received a letter from Remus and you missed him terribly. In stepped your favorite not-yet-student, she seemed as if she too would be returning home from the holidays judging by the bag she was were and trunk you could see just outside the door.

"Professor, can I ask you a question?"

She was a very curious girl so she was going to ask whether you said yes or no, "Of course, what is it?"

"Say... Hypothetically, if someone got caught in the restricted section, how much trouble would they be in?"

You were surprised, "Well, Most of the time it is detention for two days but every case is different. Things such as who caught them, their reason for being there, and whether or not they broke curfew often increase or decrease the punishment. A lot of things need to be taken into account." you swished your wand, locking a few cupboards. You looked at her and saw an odd expression on her face.

"What is it, Miss Granger? Were you expecting me to go authoritarian on you and tell you that you will be strung up near the Whoomping Willow?"

"Sort of."

You laughed, "Oh dear, I did all sorts of things and I have a personal rule that I will not greatly punish a student for something I did unless they are doing it to purposefully cause harm to themselves or another student. What do you need from the Restricted section?"

"It isn't for me, well it kind of is but it's for Harry Potter." She said, "I won't have time to read it before time to leave."

You sighed, "That is a problem. I am also leaving for the holidays, you know, got to get home to the family."

"Do you have kids?" she asked, looking at the picture of you and Remus on your desk. It was taken when you were at Hogwarts during your graduation. You and him were hugging and laughing because minutes before

"No, No I don't."

"Is he your husband?"

"Yes, he is."

"Why don't you wear a ring?"

"I have a deep fear of losing it. It was his grandmother's ring and it is a size too big for me." you pulled the necklace from under your robe. You pulled it from your neck and handed it to her.

She gently held it and looked at it before returning it to you, you put it back on and reached for your tote bag. "Well, I must be off. Have a Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"You too, Professor."

You had a gift to deliver to a special someone.

You stomped your feet off on the outside mat before knocking on the door. Your face was hurting from how hard you were smiling, you were happy to be home and happy to see Remus. You heard the door unclick and it opened to reveal your man: Remus John Lupin. You practically tackled him, squeezing as if you let go he'd slip away. You pulled back to grab your suitcase and shut the door.

"Where are the cookies?" you asked, smelling gingerbread in the air. You looked at him and noticed a weak smile instead of his iconic 'missed you' one. That meant one thing. He seemed to be in slight pain as well. You sat your suitcase down and put your hand on his forehead.

'I am fine. They're in the oven." he said, trying to perk up. You shook your head.

"Please go sit down at least."

"But-"

"No buts. I will finish up the cookies and I will make us dinner." You took off your coat and slipped on your house slippers that stayed by the door. He reluctantly hobbled to the couch and sat down, feeling more tired than he thought he was. He felt so guilty for being this way and depriving you of a normal holiday season. Luckily, it was almost over and he'd be all better by Christmas Eve.

He sighed gently as he looked around the living room: It was painted by both of you, you had put up pictures and he'd organized the several bookshelves. You both had disagreed about the furniture layout at the start but you had eventually agreed on two comfy armchairs on either side of the fireplace and a three-person sofa further away, separated by a coffee table. He loved it because it was shared between him and you. Almost twelve years of memories, love, and happiness were in this house.

He stood up and went to the kitchen to see you mixing up the icing and coloring it. He just watched for a minute until you notice him. "Rem, I thought you were going to take a rest?"

he smiled as he walked to the plate of undecorated cookies that were cooling, "I would but fresh out of the oven gingerbread calls me." he said picking one up and blowing on it before he took a bite. You rolled your eyes.

"We could take a small break while they cool. I really need to unpack, wash my clothes, clean up and fix this disaster," you said, pointing to your hair. He fanned his mouth as he went to the fridge and grabbed the milk, "You better n-" he popped off the cap and took a swig. You have him a look that made him and he flashed his smile, making you huff but grin.

You and he walked through the kitchen and the living room, grabbed your suitcase, and went up the stairs to your bedroom. When you got to the bedroom, you sighed happily. It was your favorite place in the house. It was a very personal place and it was a safe place, you and he decorated every room but you took extra care with it. Remus was skilled at woodworking and made the bed frame, chest of drawers, and wardrobe. He was so good at it that he sold pieces that the house didn't need. You walked to the end and flopped down face first on the quilt your mother and you had made. You were so happy to be home.

"So," Remus sat down beside you, "I think you should get changed into pajamas and take that nap with me. Dinner time is a social construct, we could eat at eleven at night."

You lifted your head off the bed, "I would love that but-"

"Nope, we are going to talk about your day, get cozy and take a nice long nap."

You rolled over on your back, looking up at the ceiling. "Fine. Pajamas, here I come."

"I washed a pair fresh. They are up in the wardrobe on the right side."

You smiled, he and you had grown accustomed to both of your quirks. He had to sleep near the door, he couldn't stand the smell or taste of uncooked tomatoes and had to cut his own hair because no one else could do it right. You had to have matching dishes, had to wear your earrings so you could fiddle with them, and couldn't stand cold floors so every room had a rug of sorts.

You opened your wardrobe and pulled your yellow chemise-style sleep dress out and went behind the folding partition to change. Remus, having been home from work for a few hours, had already changed into his sleep clothes and house robe. He simply untied the robe and hung it on the back of the door and slipped off his slippers. He returned to the bed and folded back the covers before getting under them. You were changed at this point and were making your way to the bed, he folded back the covers for you and you slipped under them, exhaustion filling you. You had been up for hours since you were too excited to sleep, the long train ride didn't help and it was always comforting when you laid on your own bed, in your own house with something better than a pillow to snuggle up with. Speaking of that, Remus had looped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

"How have you been? Despite what your letters said, I know it's stressful."

You sighed, "It's very stressful but I love it. I love the students and my fellow staff though some of the students drive me up the wall. I had to save Draco from a pit, Harry nearly died during a quidditch match, Ron falls asleep in the halls, Hermione is going to go grey by the time she's sixteen, and my poor boy Neville is terrified of his own shadow."

He laughed, "Sounds like a fun group. Picked a favorite?"

"I don't pick favorites."

"It's Hermione, isn't it."

"Don't tell a soul but yes. She reminds me of myself at her age."

"Oh dear lord, she must be insufferable."

"Aw, shush! You decided to marry me so I couldn't have been that annoying and she is a very nice kid!" you swatted at him, making him laugh again. A comforting silence fell over the two of you. You missed him so much that just being around him seemed to ease the stress and make you feel as if nothing in the world could ever be going awry. You missed when it was like this and you wished it could stay like this forever.

You were calmly sitting in the infirmary, gently whispering a story to Harry. You got intense flashbacks to you rocking him and re-telling him Rumplesteelskin. You smiled to yourself as you also thought about James and Lily. You brushed some hair out of the boy's eyes to keep him asleep a while longer.

"You should not do this to yourself." you heard a voice say. You raised and straightened up.

"Albus, You know that I have to. He will need those memories to know he was loved. They are precious and I have so much to tell him." You looked at him, "I was lucky enough to have known them and now, I have been trusted with the ones he'll need and I will protect him from the ones he won't."

The old man's eyes grew soft behind the half-crescent moon spectacles. "I understand but it is important that Harry, the best he can, has a normal life."

You laughed sarcastically, "We are wizards and he is strange even for one of us. Normal isn't in the cards."

He grinned, "Let us walk. He needs rest." He turned and you stood and strode to him, turning to make sure the boy was still asleep. You closed the door gently.

"You miss them, dear friend. I know. You feel an obligation to be just as friendly with Harry as you were with them." He said.

"Obligation? No, not really. I see it as a courtesy. I, in a way, feel as if I stole their time together." you said, looking sadly at the ground.

"No. You gave them more with what you did."

"Tell us where you bitch!" one of them called out, blasting you with another painful beam. You cried out in pain. It was the third time and you felt as if you were going to break your bones from how violently you were thriving about like a trapped snake.

"I- No! Nev-" The spell hit you again and you let out another ear-piercing scream.

"I don't like to think of that." you said, feeling a certain word they cut into you and let scar down your back. 'Mudblood.'

You were sitting in your chair, to the left of Severus when Dumbledore stood to announce the winner of the House Cup. You smiled as you looked to the Slytherin table; while you hadn't been a Slytherin, you loved some of the students in the house, and your work best friend and actual friend, Severus was the Head of Slytherin. Of course, you weren't expecting Dumbledore to begin awarding last-minute house points. You couldn't help but laugh, which you covered politely with your cloth napkin when Gryffindor stole it right from under them.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" You said, walking with the class to the train with Hagrid as he had a habit of trailing after lost pets and not watching students.

"Do you think I could take your class next year? I heard you can make special recommendations."

You laughed a little bit, "Not two hours since your first year ended and you are already thinking about your next one."

"Well, I miss it already."

You smiled, "I know. I call it First-Year Syndrome. Had it myself. "

Harry looked at you, "What were you like as a first year, Professor?"

You sighed, pleasant memories coming back. "I was a very studious girl but I had my fair share of mischievous irks. I also was a sucker for a bribe, which I would not recommend you all be."

You looked at the three children and you seemed to get a premonition about them. You knew you'd see them again, yes but you knew they'd been seen together a lot. Harry is brave, and caring but has a thirst to know who he is and be who he wants, not caring about anything else. He reminded you of Sirius. Ron, although he could be stirred onto a different path, he was always here. He reminded you of Peter. So did his rat, kind of. You watched them get on the train and watched as it pulled out of the station, leaving you and Hagrid.

"You know what?"

"Whot?"

You felt as if James and Lily surrounded you and waved goodbyes well.

"I am getting a slight feeling of deja vu."

"I personally think it's a stupid idea," you said at the staff meeting.

"No one said it was ours nor that we get a say. It's what we, as a school, have been asked to do." Dumbledore said.

"I am with Professor Lupin. Why should we be expected to implore the aid of those creatures? If we need more help, Albus, we should do some more measures to protect them, yes but those things have a mind of their own. We could increase night duties, and protective spells and strictly enforce the curfew and maybe a buddy system!" Professor McGonagall said.

"I know. I really do have my hands tied. I rather not have them here but I fear what would happen if they aren't. We must return to our classes, students will arriving soon. We will talk about this next free period." He said. With a mixed grumble of approval and disapproval, they walked out, leaving you.

"Albus." you said, walking to his desk, "You know-"

"Professor Lupin. I can't do anything more."

You frowned "You know he's innocent! Why have you not said anything!" you said.

"Because of reasons."

You huffed, "An innocent man spent years in a literal hell for your reasons!"

He just looked at you, the look that let you know you weren't going to get anywhere with him.

"Professor Lupin, let's change the subject." he said with a smile, "How do you feel about having another Professor Lupin teaching here?"

You sighed, "We'll talk about Sirius later and I am," you paused, smile growing, "Rather excited."

You were in the Great Hall, watching the Sorting Ceremony. You glanced at your husband, who was fiddling with his shirt. He knew DUmbledore was going to make him stand. You gently touched his thigh, making him look at you. You gave a comforting smile and a thumbs-up under the table. He gave a scribbled smile as the last name was called.

Dumbledore told the students of what you and several other teachers were despising, The Dementor Division. They would be guarding the grounds of the castle but would not interfere with activities or lessons. You clenched your jaw, 'Of course, they won't...until it suits them."

He then introduced your lover, He awkwardly stood up and leaned a little bit. He hated being pointed out to a huge crowd. You clapped as he sat back down. Finally, dinner had begun, your eyes caught that of your favorite set of Twins, they did a kissy face at you and you raised your eyebrow at them. You then saw Hermione who was looking at you, then to her friends. You smiled to yourself as you raised up your cup. Remus leaned to whisper something to you, making you laugh.

"Aww! They're so cute!" Hermione said.

"Do you think he's a good teacher?" Harry asked, ladling out some of the soup.

"I think he will be. Apparently, he was up for Head Boy when he was here." Hermione said.

"He's been here less than an hour and you already know everything about him!" Ron said, eating a chicken leg.

"She told me about him. They really love each other from what she told me."

Fred decided to join the conversation, "The Lupins are very sweet, even on their own so it makes sense that they would be perfect for each other. Though, Remus is a lot more reserved than his lovely wife."

"It's gonna get confusing calling them both Professor Lupin, innit?" George said.

Nevile, who was overhearing this, chimed in agreement "What if you mean on Lupin but you mean the other?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "I guess we're going to have to use their first names too. Professor Remus Lupin. She gets plain 'Professor Lupin' privilege because she was first."

You were cutting a piece of cake from the black forest cherry one that had appeared, you handed it to Remus. He thanked you as he raised his fork to it and cut a piece off of his slice and held it up to you, you ate it and smiled.

"We will need to thank the House Elves later. All of it was lovely," you said, watching the student's dishes slowly disappear as they finished.

You and Remus finished your cake and stood up, he held out his arm for you to take. You did so and you two walked out the side door and out to the small foot path that took you around to the courtyard. You softly sighed as you both walked.

"Did you miss this place?" you asked.

"I did. I am happy you talked me into this."

"I told you my ideas are always good."

He rolled his eyes lightly. "Not always. But most of the time."

You laughed and he just looked at you, your sweet smile and lovely laugh. He looked into your eyes as the two of you walked. Enjoying each other. You looked up at the moon, it was Waning.

You and Remus had agreed to walk with a group of students to Hogsmeade. Remus had recovered from a full moon and finally felt like going out places. His chocolate stash was running low and you were going to get ingredients to make toffee.

"Draco!" You yelled, "Leave that boy alone!"

He was bothering Neville. You sighed as you walked to the boy, Remus following you.

"Thanks Professor."

"No problem, Where are your friends?"

The nervous boy rambled on about Honeydukes and how everyone always hung out in there instead of going to other places as he walked back to it.

You watched him go before looking at Remus, "Well, a little someone told me about the Boggart incident."

"Harry-"

"No, Neville. What you did was sweet."

"What did I do?" He said, grinning.

"You know."

"He is a good student and I was merely showing him that."

You looked at Remus, a gentle snow falling around him. "You are so sweet."

"You would've done the same."

You and he talked a little more until you stopped and pointed at the ground, mysterious footprints were appearing in the snow. You were about to run to the footprints when Remus grabbed your shoulder and pointed to two familiar students: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. You stilled as you watched them try to follow the cause of the footprints. You looked at him, "You don't think that he has the," your voice lowered to a whisper, "the cloak?"

"It's the only thing I can think of that would allow him to do that." he said, watching the door attentively.

"Out of all the bloody possible heirlooms." you groaned lightly.

Remus looked at you, "Well, I guess we wait out like how they are. What on earth could he want from in there?"

"Your guess is just as good as mine."

You both waited for about fifteen minutes, talking with each other about all the things you both got up to during your days with the cloak. You stood up when you saw Ron and Hermione stand and follow what Remus guessed were the footprints. You followed the group until Remus tapped your shoulder and pointed to the path you guys used to take to sneak to Hogsmeade. You both ran up the path and by the time you got to the edge of the treeline on the other side, harry had taken off the cloak and was talking to Ron and Hermione.

"He was their friend!" the boy yelled out. You looked at Remus and saw on his face that he knew exactly who the boy was talking about. Sirius.

You were brushing your hair as Remus paced the room. His thoughts were radiating out and you could almost feel anger, confusion, and a drip of helplessness. You turned away from the mirror. "Remus. You're going to make holes in the rug." You stood up and walked to where the man had now stilled.

"I am sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

"It's unfair. How are we expected to just sit around and listen to all the rumors about our friend! He wouldn't take it if it was one of us." he grabbed his cardigan and walked to the door.

"Remus? What are you doing?"

"I am going to tell Dumbledore exactly what needs to be done."

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arrestedforhomestuckcrimes · 1 year

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What's your "Should have realized that was neuroatypical" habit from childhood? Mine was/is reading cookbooks cover to cover.

#Rolad Dhal cookbook my childhood beloved...#Domestic goddess cookbook and the frugal gourmet <3 #There was a red and white checkered one too. Built like a three ring binder.#Don't remember the name of that one #Those were the main ones from childhood #These days we're more focused on the DnD cookbook #The harry potter cookbook #The Woks of Life is good and VERY helpful for me #Love their char siu pork #Just downloaded a new one to my kindle <3

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ellecdc · 2 months

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The Winner Takes it All (you don't need to compete for the boys) + The Loser Has To Fall (companion piece) Swim Lessons (meet cute with swim instructor marauders) When One Door Closes (the boys support you as you end your toxic relationship) Hard Softie (you're feisty to everyone except your boys) 🫧 I wasn't running from you (slytherin reader feels insecure) Sweet Tooth (you love baking for the boys, and they love you) Beginnings (feisty reader stealing the 💖 of the only one not already in love) 🫧 Overthinking (you're convinced they're mad at you) The beginning (how feisty!readers relationship with the boys started) Where'd you go? (whimsical!reader wanders off) 🫧 What did you See? (Seer fem!reader Sees a happy domestic life) 🫧 -> Saw Bad (their oldest child inherits seer!reader's abilities) Our little gremlin (fem!readers sense of humour mini blurb) Sirius' Arch Nemesis (fem!reader finds a kitten) 🫧 The Sound of Music (muggle born gn!reader x poly!marauders) Two Steps Forward (fem!reader struggling with mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff) 🫧 Marauders + your younger sibling headcanons It's been you? (when they find out their gf is a secret animagus) Sight's Set (Seer slytherin fem!reader Sees a new relationship with the boys) raising harry with poly!marauders? (how that might look feat. whimsical fem!reader) James & Sirius & Remus & Lily &...you? (poly!marauders + lily x fem!reader) -> shy!reader's first date with the marauders + lily -> shy!reader doesn't know about Remus' furry little problem [marauders + lily] -> shy!reader learns about Remus' furry little problem [miscom trope] Slimy (the boys meet whimsical!readers pet snake for the first time) who are you talking to? (they find out their date talks to her cat) Too Much (marauders + lily x their shy!reader who gets overwhelmed) we've got you (the boys help gn!reader through an epileptic seizure)

🫧 = elle’s favourites

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders x you #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders

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bobluvbot · 2 months

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late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it) wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part.

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort.

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement.

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts.

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world.

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall.

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better.

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did.

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft.

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier.

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it.

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare.

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa?

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal.

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope.

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response.

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell?

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy.

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread.

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back.

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm.

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man.

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him.

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach.

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?”

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.”

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind.

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck.

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence.

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.”

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin.

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought.

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?”

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

Love Of My Life

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Part 5

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Four moments leading up to the big day, and the moment you and Max have been dreaming of.

a/n: I actually have SO much to say but I will save it for the end or maybe a separate post. title thanks to Mr. Harry Styles. Hope you all enjoy this one!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content

1. something old

“You should come over Friday,” Louise tells you over the phone. “I’m having some friends over, you’ll love them. It’ll be fun.”

You don’t have anything better to do, really. You’ve had a hard time making friends since you moved here- people were still hesitant to socialize due to Covid. But things are opening back up now, and the one friend you have made wants to introduce you to more people. You should take the chance. You’d be silly not to.

So you head over with a bottle of white wine. You slip your coat off at the door, finding the apartment full of people. You’re suddenly anxious. You don’t know anyone here besides Louise, and you feel like such an outsider already. These people are all already friends, why would you think you could just insert yourself?

Just as you’re thinking about putting your coat back on and pretending you were never there, Louise spots you in the hallway. She calls out your name and beckons you over. Now you’re stuck. There’s no escaping anymore.

She greets you with a hug, squealing in your ear- you can tell she’s already tipsy. You hug her back and smile at her when she pulls away.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she says, loud enough to be heard over the music playing in her apartment. “I’ve got so many people I want you to meet.”

She takes you to the kitchen first, where there’s a wide array of alcohol and mixers. You help yourself to a tequila & soda. Then she holds your hand and pulls you through the crowd, making stops along the way. She introduces you to all her friends one by one, and you start to put faces to the names in the stories she’s told you. Everyone is kind and excited to meet you- apparently, they’ve heard a lot about you, too.

By the time you meet Max, you’re three drinks in. Louise doesn’t give you any sort of heads up. You suppose it shouldn’t really matter- to her, he’s just her friend Max. You’re not a big F1 fan, but you know enough to know who Max is. So when you’re suddenly face to face with him in a crowded apartment?

You handle it well, all things considered. The alcohol helps, keeps your hand from shaking when you give him a little wave as Louise gushes about you. Max helps, too- for someone who should be intimidating, he’s incredibly kind. It’s not long before Louise is dragging you off again, someone else she needs you to meet.

Max yells after the two of you, his hand cupped around his mouth. “Nice to meet you!”

You echo it back and laugh as she drags you away. You don’t see him again that night, but Max’s soft smile stays imprinted in the back of your brain for days.

2. something new

Just before Christmas, you and Max host a party. Half your friends are out of town visiting family, but you invite the people who are there to come over for dinner and drinks and games. Daniel, who is usually first to arrive and last to leave, gets there far too early. He rings the doorbell and Max looks at you with a wide grin. He has oven mitts on his hands, and he’s wearing an apron. It’s all very domestic, and it makes your heart sing.

“I’ll get it,” you say, sliding off the kitchen stool and heading for the door.

You take a deep breath before you open it. Daniel comes tumbling in, arms full of food and drinks, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He’s grinning so wide at you that for a moment you think he already knows, but Max had sworn he hadn’t told him yet. He heads towards the kitchen, already talking a mile a minute, but when he turns over his shoulder to look at you he stops in his tracks. He cocks his head at you.

“Something’s different,” he says, one brow quirked. “Did you cut your hair? Something’s… new.”

You shake your head and frown at him. He frowns right back. Then he drops the bottles and bags of food on the couch. He casts a glance towards the kitchen, where Max has his head in the fridge. For a second, you’re worried about what he’s going to ask you.

Then he reaches for your left hand, and you start to laugh.

His grin grows impossibly wider when he spots the ring on your finger. He pulls you into a tight hug before he says anything. You hear Max let out a noise of confusion in the kitchen, but you’re busy hugging Daniel back.

“Congrats,” he says, voice low. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

You laugh, tears suddenly threatening to build up in your eyes. “Thank you. And. Thank you,” you say. “For picking me up and bringing me here that night.”

He nods, squeezes his arms around you once more before he pulls away. Max is standing at the kitchen island, watching the two of you with a soft smile.

“Told you he’d notice immediately,” he says. “Lando’s the one who’ll be oblivious.”

Daniel charges across the room to get to Max and wraps him up in a bear hug. Max reciprocates happily, smiling at you over his friend’s shoulder. They hold onto each other for a long time.

“Wait, so is this an engagement party?” He asks, and Max laughs. “Wait, when did you ask her?”

“Just after we got back from Japan,” you answer.

Daniel turns to you, eyes wide. “You little assholes! You’ve been keeping it a secret for weeks?”

He shoves Max’s shoulder lightly. Max shoves him back. Before long, the two of them are playfully wrestling in the kitchen. The timer on the oven goes off, but it doesn’t seem to stop either of them. You sigh, walk over, take the oven mits from the counter, and sidestep the scramble to get to the oven and pull the tray of cookies out.

Louise walks in without knocking and takes in the entire situation- you, a tray of cookies in your hands, Daniel, his arms around Max, Max, with Daniel in a headlock, and she starts to laugh.

“Oh my god, did you guys get engaged?” She asks.

“How did you know?” Max squeaks- Daniel’s pinched his side mid sentence.

“You’re wearing an apron that says fiancé,” Louise laughs.

You collapse into laughter, barely making sure to set the cookies down on the counter. You’d forgotten about the apron, a gag gift from you to him that he’d insisted on actually wearing. Max looks down at his own chest, tucking his chin comically to do so. He still has Daniel in a headlock. The other man is jabbing at Max’s stomach now.

“Huh. Forgot about that,” he says with a shrug.

“Let me see the ring!” Louise says, making her way towards you.

“Shoes off!” Both you and Max call out, pointing at her feet.

She sighs and shares a look of exasperation with Daniel. He rolls his eyes in agreement. Max sees and remembers his previous fight with Daniel, and seems to decide to return to that, shoving his elbow into his friend’s side.

You ignore them and head for Louise, holding your hand out to her. She squeals over the ring, holding onto your hand tightly, eyes lit up.

“Wouldn’t be here without you,” you tell her.

“And that awful strawberry wine,” she says knowingly.

She’s not exactly wrong. Without that night, the strawberry wine that everyone else hated but you and Max liked, you’re not sure what would’ve happened. You like to believe you would’ve found your way to each other- something else to have in common, something else to share. But you wouldn’t trade any of those shared bottles of wine for the entire world. You treasure each moment.

“They got engaged like three weeks ago!” Daniel calls out. “They’re assholes!”

You slip the ring off your finger and turn it around so Louise can see the strawberry, and you watch her face crumple into a sob. You laugh and feel yours do the same.

“Shit,” Daniel says. “I didn’t mean it.”

Max gives up on wrestling Daniel. “Baby?”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, as you pull Louise into a hug. “Happy tears.”

3. something borrowed

You follow Max to Bahrain for the beginning of the F1 season. He’s often busy before he gets in the car, and you usually spend the time hanging out in hospitality or in the garage. But before the first practice of the season, he finds you and pulls you to the side.

He slips the bracelet you gave him from his wrist and hands it to you. “Keep this safe for me?”

You know the rest of his jewelry- his other bracelets, his watch, and any rings he’d worn- are sitting in his driver room. Your chest warms at the thought that he’s worn this one as long as possible, and that he wants you to hold onto it. You smile up at him and slide the bracelet into your own wrist. It’s a bit too big, but it’ll work.

“Sure, I’ll just borrow it for now,” you tell him.

A wide, soft smile spreads across Max’s lips. “Oh. That’s. That’s nice.”

His face has morphed into something warm and full of affection. His eyes are trained on the bracelet, sitting on your wrist, the way it hangs loosely against the base of your hand. It’s comforting to you, too.

You laugh, noticing the tears in his eyes. “You big sap.”

He brushes his thumb against your wrist and kisses your forehead. “But I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, and you kiss his cheek. “Forever. I’ll see you soon, love.”

After the practice, he finds you, his race suit tied around his waist. He pulls you into a hug, and you slip the bracelet off your wrist and onto his. And so, the tradition begins.

By the end of the race the next weekend, the two of you have it down to a science. He takes it off just before he heads to the grid, leaves it with you. You rub your thumb against the metal during the race, wrap your whole hand around it during the more stressful moments. The cold metal against the palm of your other hand is grounding, somehow. When he crosses the finish line in first, you run to greet him with the crew. He pulls you halfway over the barricade when he finds you, helmet still on, and you press your lips to the top of it as he holds you, strong arms right around your middle. He smells like sweat and shakes with the adrenaline of it all. There are people slapping his shoulders eagerly, people reaching to tap his helmet, but for just a moment, all he’s focused on is you. He reaches for your wrist.

You slip the bracelet off and put it back on his wrist for him. You watch his shoulders relax, like the last bit of tension is draining away. You hold onto the sides of his helmet, staring into his eyes, which are nearly squeezed shut. He holds your face in his hands for just a moment, fingers pressed to your skin.

He’s going to be your husband. In all of this chaos, you’re the person he wants by his side, the first one he runs to. It hits you like a freight train, and you swallow down the tears.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises, smiling through all of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, as you let go of him.

Someone pulls him away- he has other things he has to do now. But he’ll come back to you. He always does.

4. something blue

Soon, it’s late summer in Monaco. The hazy afternoon sun is about to slip below the horizon. You’ve just climbed out of bed after a long nap with Max, both of you having been exhausted from the race weekend and the journey back home. For once, you’d been the one trying to coax him to stay in bed. He’d insisted on getting up, on trying to scrape together dinner from what’s left of the groceries in your apartment. So far, you haven’t made much progress beyond opening a bottle of wine and starting a playlist playing.

“Maybe this could be a first dance song,” you suggest, some sappy love song playing over the speakers in the kitchen.

Max shakes his head, wrinkles his nose. “You don’t even know this song.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“It has to mean something, no?” He says, reaching out and pulling you close. “Not just… sounds pretty.”

“Yeah, but… how do we pick a song that sums it all up?” You ask, and his shoulders drop. “I mean. Have you found the song yet?”

“I have ideas,” he says.

“So do I,” you answer, and then you sigh. “But I don’t think any of them are the one.”

Max stands there, hands on your hips. “Let’s test them out,” he says.

You blink up at him, sliding your hands up his abdomen. “Now?”

You look down at yourself, and at him. He’s shirtless, in nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants and socks. You’re not much more dressed- one of his navy Red Bull tshirts, big enough that it falls down to mid thigh, nothing but your underwear underneath, a pair of light blue cable knit socks on your feet. Your hair is a mess. There are definitely dark circles under your eyes, courtesy of your near-permanent jet lag.

“Yeah, now,” he says, brushing his thumbs against your hips. “You’ve got a list, so do I. How are we going to know which one’s right till we try them out?”

You shrug, then nod, reaching for your phone. You open your music, scrolling to the playlist you’ve already made. Max looks at the screen upside down, trying to read the names of the songs. When the first one begins to play, he takes you into his arms and starts to dance.

The kitchen is big, but it’s no dance floor. The living room might be better, but he seems insistent on staying put. The two of you sway on the tile floors, careful not to bump your hips on the countertops. He spins you in dizzying circles, ones that make you laugh and smile and send you crashing back into his chest. And when you’ve heard enough of each song to know it’s not the song, you skip it.

“Too boring,” he says about one.

“Too cheesy,” you respond to another.

He wrinkles his nose at the next one. “This is even cheesier.”

It’s not long until you’ve exhausted both of your lists. You sigh in defeat, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand sweeps up your back.

“We’ll find it,” you tell him. “Or we’ll get Charles to write us a song.”

Max snorts out a laugh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“He was the first of your friends that I met, you know,” you remind him with a teasing lilt.

He bends his head to kiss your forehead, but he stops halfway. His brows furrow. Then he reaches for your phone off the counter, swiping to open it.

“What?” You ask, softly.

“Danny- he suggested a song, a while ago. A long time ago, actually-“ he says. “I had forgotten about it. But. We should try, no?”

You nod. He pressed play. You don’t recognize the song as the first chords play out, but you’ll give it a shot. You rest your head against Max’s chest, let him hold you and sway back and forth. For a moment, you think you’re starting to feel it. That this might be the song. There’s a flutter in your chest.

And then the chorus hits, and you hear the lyrics, and you just know. You look up at Max with tears in your eyes and you know he feels it too. The sun is long gone, now, and the kitchen is filled with that blue, post sunset light. It matches Max’s eyes, brings out the color in them. He leans you back in the kitchen of your apartment and kisses you like you’re his wife- like this could be your first dance at your wedding. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him right back.

You’re not sure how many times you listen to that song that night. Enough to learn all the lyrics, enough to commit the feeling of it to memory. By the end of the night, Max is singing it to you while you wash your face and laugh, and you’re humming it while you climb into bed. You lay there, your head on the pillow, looking over at him. Neither of you can wipe the giant smiles off your lips.

5. and a sixpence in your shoe

You wake up just after the sun on a Saturday morning in early January. The year is still fresh, and Max is in bed next to you. He’s got his arm around your waist, face pressed into the pillow. The sight makes you smile.

Today, you get to marry him. You can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face. As Max starts to wake up, you see the smile slip across his face, too. He opens his eyes and meets yours, and the smile only grows. He reaches out, runs the back of his finger over your cheek.

“My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, softly.

You laugh. “My handsome boyfriend.”

“We have to use that up, you know. Say it while we still can,” he says.

He tugs at your side to pull you closer. You go easily.

“We’re getting married today,” you say to him.

He nods, eyes tracing your face. “Any second thoughts? Cold feet?”

You laugh and bury your face in his chest. You press your feet to his calves and he hisses, rolling over on top of you in retaliation. He presses quick, ticklish kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you squeal and try to push him away. He’s much stronger, though, and he keeps you pinned under him.

“My feet are always cold,” you tell him. “But no second thoughts. I’m all in.”

“Are we getting married or playing poker?” He teases. When you groan and shove at his shoulder lightly, he laughs into your neck.

“What about you? Second thoughts?” You ask.

Max laughs again, louder this time. He presses himself closer, if that’s even possible, and kisses the hinge of your jaw gently. His nose brushes against your temple, then, as he presses his lips to your ear.

“Never,” he whispers, making you shiver. “I’m all in, too.”

He pulls away to look at your face, and you’re met with a soft gaze that sends your heart into overdrive. He leans close, lips aiming for yours, his nose bumping against your nose. You let your eyes fall shut, and then there’s someone knocking on your front door, loudly.

“You two better be decent!” Daniel calls out. “We’re here, time to get up!”

You sigh, throwing your head back on the pillow. Max lets out a long, loud groan, hands suddenly everywhere on your body, like he’s trying to get as much touching in as he can before it’s too late. You laugh and try to push him away again, but it’s no use.

“Why’d we tell him to come get us so early?” Max says, bordering on a whine. “And why did he listen to us?”

“He’s your best man,” you remind him. “You chose him.”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a schedule to keep. It’s your wedding day!” This time it’s Louise, who’s your maid of honor.

You sigh and try to sit up, bringing Max with you. He doesn’t go easily, or willingly. He seems perfectly content to stay tucked in bed, despite the threats from your friends. In fact, the second you’re halfway sitting up, he’s trying to push you back down onto the pillows.

“Max. I’m not wearing a shirt,” you hiss, gesturing down at yourself. “And Danny is threatening to come in here-“

Max sits up suddenly, eyes wide. “Okay, okay, we’re getting up,” he calls out. “Give us a minute to get dressed, yeah?”

You meet the two of them in the kitchen ten minutes later. Max is in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, while you’re in a cream lounge set your friend Audrey bought you as a wedding shower gift. You have one of Max’s shirts overtop of it, unbuttoned and hanging like a jacket. Daniel and Louise are sitting at the kitchen counter, coffee and breakfast waiting for both you and Max. Your friends greet each of you with hugs and then rush you both out the door.

You ride to the wedding venue together, and even as you head to get ready, you don’t separate. This is what you both decided- you get ready for every other big event in your lives together, side by side, so why would this one be any different? Your friends all join you, your family members too, trickling in and out of the space. The morning is full of love and light. Max sits next to you and watches you get your hair and makeup done. Your makeup artist has to tell him to stop making you laugh- she’s worried she’s going to mess up your lipstick.

Max just grins and shakes his head. “We can’t have that,” he teases. “That’s my job.��

You wait until the last possible second to put on your dress. That’s when you leave Max’s side, letting go of him until you meet him at the end of the aisle. He's in his tux, a blue bow tie around his neck. There’s this peaceful smile on his face, one that grounds you and comforts you every time you see it. He kisses your temple to avoid messing up your makeup, and you smile up at him softly.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, see you soon,” you answer, feeling giddy.

The wedding itself is a tiny, intimate affair. Just your closest friends and family and someone to officiate. You can see the garden where you’re going to get married from the room you’ve been getting ready in. The guests are all in the seats- your family and Max’s in the front row. GP and his wife are there, craning their necks when they spot Max. Lando is there, sitting next to Martin. Your mutual friends take up a whole row, the ones you met the same night you met Max, the ones who welcomed you with open arms. A whole lot of love in such a little space.

You take a deep breath and head downstairs with Louise, who helps make sure your dress is perfect before you head down the aisle. You stay hidden, watching through a window as Max walks down to the front. Daniel gives you a gentle hug, tears already forming in his eyes. Then the music begins, and Louise grabs you by the shoulders.

“This is your last chance,” she says. “I can be your getaway car.”

You laugh, tears already forming in your eyes, and you shake your head. “No. No second thoughts, no cold feet. I’ve never been more sure.”

She grins at you and squeezes your shoulders. “Cool, because we would’ve had to steal Danny’s car. Oh, I have something for you.”

She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a coin- a sixpence. Suddenly, you remember the old rhyme, and panic rushes through your body. She’s smiling, though, and shaking her head.

“Something old,” she says, pointing at the vintage bracelet you’d been gifted by Max’s mother for the day. “The something new is the perfume you bought special for today.”

“Something borrowed,” Daniel chimes in, a wide grin on his face, “is the pair of cufflinks I lent Max. And something blue-“

“His bow tie,” you say, softly. “I picked it because it brings out his eyes, but… it works, right?”

Daniel and Louise both nod, grinning brightly. Tears are already forming in your eyes. Louise swipes them away quickly with a tissue as you slip one of your heels off and place the coin there. You take a deep breath.

“Now I’m ready,” you say with a firm nod.

But really, you’ve been ready since the day you met him.

The rest of it is a bit of a blur. It’s like one moment, you’re standing there, watching it all from the outside. Then the next, you’re at the front with Max, his hands in yours, tears in both of your eyes. You hate crowds, hate public speaking, but for him you’d do anything. For him, you’d shout it all from the rooftops.

He has that soft look on his face, the one that makes you melt every time. His cheeks are rosy red, and you have to fight the urge to sweep your thumb against his face, to lean in and kiss him right there. You barely hear what the officiant is saying, but that’s okay because you already know it by heart.

“Now, I believe the two of you have prepared vows?” The officiant says. “Max, would you like to start us off?”

Max nods, squeezes your hands, smiles at you. You smile right back and hold onto him tightly.

“My wonderful love,” he says, voice so soft and tender it makes your chest hurt. “I spent a lot of my life before I met you wondering how you know when it’s love. But you’ve taught me that it’s not just a feeling, it’s a choice. At every turn, I choose you, and you have done the same. You’re my sunshine, my quiet in the noise. So in all the messes, in the stressful days, I love you. Not in spite of, or anyways. I love you in all of it, the good and the tough parts. I’d choose you over and over again.” He squeezes your hands softly. “I promise to save you the best strawberries, to listen when you need to talk, to talk when you need to listen. Most of all, I promise to always walk you home.”

God, you love him. You love him so much it’ll burn you up, so much it aches deep in your chest. You can’t quite believe that you get to spend your whole life with him. You hold onto his hands and blink away tears. His blue eyes stare straight into yours, calm and kind as always. If you could, you’d kiss him right then and there. You take a deep breath instead and begin to speak.

“I heard a quote once, that said there are years that ask questions and years that answer. I think that since I’ve met you, it’s all felt like an answer to a question I didn’t even know I had. You pick me up when I fall, you cheer me on when I succeed, and I love being able to do the same for you,” you say, softly. “I am so thankful for every moment I get to spend with you, from the dances in our kitchen to watching you win on the racetrack. You’re the best part of my life, my steady rock, my anchor in a storm. I can’t wait to be by your side for the rest of our lives. I promise to always share the wine, to cheer you on, to be the sane person in a room full of chaos.” He grins widely at that, eyes glittering with tears. “Above all else, I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Then it’s the I dos and the rings, handed to you by Daniel, who’s got tears in his eyes. Your hands shake as you slip the ring onto his finger. Max’s do too. The bands sit perfectly on your fingers, and you can’t take your eyes off Max’s hand- the ring, the bracelet, too. When you finally drag your gaze away, you look up at him again, tears slipping down your cheeks. His face mirrors yours, teary eyed but oh-so-happy.

When the officiant tells him to kiss the bride, he sweeps you up in his arms, the same way he did in the hallway of the club all that time ago, when you were still unsure, when you didn’t realize he wanted this, too. He kisses you sweetly, holds you close, and you feel it in every bone in your body, every muscle, every nerve. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You could do this forever. Forever and ever.

…..

While the wedding was small, the reception is huge, and it’s packed with people. Everyone you or Max have ever spoken to seems to be there. There’s good food, better drinks, and enough strawberry wine to supply the entire city for a month, you’re sure. Someone forces you and Max to sit and eat dinner- you do your best. Then you wander the reception, hand in hand with him, greeting all of your guests.

You’ve changed dresses since the ceremony- out of your more simple white dress and into a bit more of an elegant one. You give so many hugs you think your arms will fall off, and accept countless compliments on the dress and the decor and the food. People tell you how proud they are of the two of you, how happy they are for you, how in love the two of you look.

You’ve just barely collapsed into your chair again, wincing at the ache already present in your feet, when they announce the first dance. Suddenly, you’re rejuvenated. Max grabs your hand and helps you up, a wide smile on his face.

“My wife,” he says, seemingly never tiring of using your new title. “May I have this dance?”

“My husband,” you respond, smiling. “This dance and every single other one.”

He laughs. It’s incredibly cheesy, overly sappy. But someday, a long time ago, you pulled your heart out of your chest and handed it over to him. And he took it, wrapped it up and held it safely, promised to protect it with his life, and then gave you his in exhchange. You have the right to be sappy and cheesy and emotional. He leads you to the dance floor, a million eyes on you. You just stare into his, and the rest of the world disappears as the song begins to play. It’s not the typical kind of music you two listen to, and it’s probably not what your friends were expecting. But when the chorus plays…

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

You rest your head on his shoulder as he holds you close, one hand linked with yours.

“I love you,” you whisper, fingers dancing in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you, liefje,” he says, brushing a kiss against your forehead.

He kisses you on the lips at the end of the song. Everyone cheers, and you smile into it, unable to help yourself. Max raises one fist above your heads, like he’s just won a race, and you start to laugh. It’s one of the happiest moments of your life.

…..

When the reception ends, the afterparty begins. Most of the older or calmer guests head out. Louise helps you change your dress one more time- from the ballgown to a short party dress. You ditch your heels for a pair of white sneakers and sigh in relief at the feeling. By the time you make an appearance, the party is truly in full swing, and you spot Max up on the DJ stand with Lando and Martin. Years ago, if you’d have guessed who’d DJ your wedding afterparty, you’d have never suggested Martin Garrix and Lando Norris, and yet, here you are.

You climb up there with them, greeting your two friends with hugs before sliding up to Max’s side. He’s lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way, and his neatly tied bow tie hangs loose and crooked from his neck. You reach to try and fix it for him. He looks you up and down, a sly smile on his lips.

He wraps his arms around you, letting his hands fall low on your back. “This might be my favorite dress of the day,” he says into your ear.

You shove at his shoulder lightly. “You’re just drunk and horny.”

He shakes his head and kisses your cheek. “No, it’s just… you look the most like you in this one. Like the you I fell in love with.” He nudges his foot against your sneakers. “More comfortable, too.”

You feel warm and soft over that, over the way he’s looking at you right now. “Aw, Maxie,” you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I mean, you also look hot,” he says, hands slipping down to squeeze your ass. “But that is just an added bonus.”

You laugh, your forehead pressed to his chest. There are people all around you, music pounding in your chest, but you’ve got Max, and that’s all you need.

“Should we go dance?” He asks.

You press your lips to his jaw, then his ear. “Yeah, we should.”

The two of you climb down from the platform. Soon enough, you disappear into the crowd of people, his hand linked with yours the whole time.

You stumble out of the club at 3am, Max’s arm wrapped around your waist. Daniel, ever the dutiful best man, is the one to get the two of you into the car, despite Max’s protests that he can walk you home. You wave goodbye to all your friends, who cheer and wave from the sidewalk. Max has his arm around your waist as you lean out the window to hug Louise, and he yelps and pulls you back in when you start to lean too far.

By the time you’re halfway through the elevator ride up to your apartment, you’re pinned between him and the mirrored wall, his lips on yours. It’s messy and hot and you drag your hands down his torso as his hands slide down your back. When the elevator doors slide open on your floor, he picks you up easily, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the front door, pins you against it so he can unlock it, and then stumbles inside, your legs wrapped around his waist. You press your lips to his neck and laugh.

“My wife,” he says, kicking his shoes off and shoving them aside.

You nip at his jaw. “My husband.”

He carries you all the way into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. You’re a giggly mess, covering your face with your hands as he tugs your shoes off your feet for you. When his hands are free, you reach for him, pulling on his dress shirt until it comes untucked from his pants. The motion knocks him off balance, and he catches himself with both hands on either side of your head, face to face with you.

You always love him, really, but he’s your husband now. It makes butterflies swirl in your stomach, makes you giddy and warm inside. You reach for the collar of his shirt and start working on his buttons.

He starts pressing kisses all over your face- your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. Each time you try to chase his lips with your own, he pulls away, kissing some other part of your face. You’re three buttons in on his shirt when you give up, grab for his jaw, and start doing the same to him.

When you pull away, he smiles down at you, and you admire your handiwork. There’s lipstick on his cheeks, now, smudged and messy. There’s a line of it down his jaw, leading to a spot that looks so inviting you have to leave a mark there. You dive in and seal your lips there, pulling a groan from his.

You’ll admit it- you’re the first one to yawn. You have your hands under his shirt, pressed against his warm skin, and his lips are dragging against your neck, and the exhaustion hits you all at once. You cover the yawn with your hand, blinking frantically to try and wake yourself up. You can’t fall asleep during this part of your wedding night.

But. Max’s lips are slow against your neck, and his kisses are messier and messier. You run your fingers along his side and he sighs softly. When you feel him yawn, you nudge his shoulder until he looks up at you. His eyes are half lidded, lips red and puffy, and he looks exhausted.

“Do you really want to have sex right now?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair.

“With you? Always,” he mumbles into the bare skin of your collarbone. Then he lets his head drop back against your chest.

“You’re literally falling asleep,” you say, tugging lightly on his hair. You get no reaction. “See? I just pulled your hair, and nothing. That always makes you-“

“Mm. Yeah. Morning sex it is,” he says, nodding against you. “Probably for the best. We have a flight in…” he looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Six hours.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands again. “Why did we do that? It’s your plane, we could’ve picked any time.”

“Your plane, too,” he says against your skin. “Our plane.”

You stare at the ceiling with wide eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex? That sentence was hotter than it should’ve been. Ours.”

Max laughs against you and squeezes your hips. “How about this. We sleep. Wake up at the last possible second. Get in the car, go to the plane. Maybe more sleep. Then, we have-“

“Sex on the plane,” you say with him, nodding. “Fuck, we really are married, huh? We’re scheduling sex.”

“Yes. But it’s okay, because it’s mile high club scheduled sex, so it’s cooler.” Max says, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

Then he shoves at your hips, trying to push you further onto the bed. You go willingly and he follows. The two of you fall asleep still half dressed in your wedding clothes, with his head on your chest and your lipstick all over his face.

…..

You’d had a thought, a long time ago, about a honeymoon phase with Max. It’s what those first weeks had felt like, before anything was official, when you thought nobody knew. Now, you lay between his legs on a beach chair on your actual honeymoon, running your hands through his hair, your chest against his. The morning sun beats down on your skin, warming you up the same way he warms your heart. You look at him, at the smile on his face that matches the one on yours, and you think that maybe this is what relationships are all about. Finding the next honeymoon, the next thing to jump into headfirst, together, hand in hand.

“You’ll walk me home, right?” You’d asked him, so many nights ago in the restaurant lobby.

“Always,” he’d answered.

You look at your rings on your finger, laying against his chest. You feel his ring against your cheek when he cups your face, cold in stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, the warmth of him. Always.

That sounds pretty perfect.

a/n: I actually didn’t know about the sixpence in your shoe part of the wedding rhyme until I wrote this. learn something new every day! anyways. this all started with a oneshot and somehow transformed into this. i have a deeper love for max and a deeper hatred for his affinity for wearing Red Bull merch- it makes it very difficult to make fic headers. thank you to everyone who has helped encourage me while writing this fic, and to everyone who has read any of it i love you all! And now, we say goodbye to the strawberry wine universe, thanks for reading! 🍓🍷

ps. this is the last full part but i might have some blurbs if anyone is interested

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

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