#these days i don't think either of them are anything to write home about

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ambersky0319]

Store managers said even a few minutes overtime will be a write up

I'm calling bullshit

[littledes1re]

Hiii, i love your writing. Could you please do one where you and Joel just started dating. And maybe go to a little event or social gathering and he sees a lot of guys looking at you and talking to you and he gets jealous and sad. Thinking you deserve better, younger and he gets insecure. But you make sure he knows you love him. Thanks!!

My Old man

Warnings: Joel is insecure, Age gap!, lots of fluff!!!

It wasn't the first time he'd felt this way. Countless times when you two went out for dinner together or were invited to some event in Jackson, you were stared at. The staring was from young men who wanted to dance with you, who thought you were pretty, hot. But the other old men were staring too. And even the women. They spent the evening gossiping about how the hell you could have landed as a pretty young girl with an old geezer like Joel. Is he holding you hostage? Is he manipulating you? You'd heard it all.

But you never paid attention to this. You were happy with Joel, more than happy. All those other men in Jackson could never give you what Joel gives you.

But Joel still took it to heart.

The looks from others, the gossip. He knew this would happen after he held your hand and said he wanted to be with you. He had his doubts; he never thought you, a beautiful young woman, could ever love him. But you pushed those doubts away every time. You loved him more than anything in this world, and you showed him that, every day.

You saw his face. Pouting and eyebrows furrowed. Deep in thought. This event was a small dance, nothing serious. Joel didn't even want to go, but Maria insisted. Every time any of those men even glanced at you, he got jealous and had a sad face, that looked down on the ground, just thinking. You couldn't bear to look at it much longer.

"Maria, I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well, so Joel and I are leaving early."

You worried Joel with that. He immediately set off alarm bells and asked you if you were okay. When you got home, the questions continued, but you had something else on your mind.

“You mr.miller gonna sit down and we will have a little talk about something.” His face was all confused while you pushed him gently down to the couch, making him sit down.

You sat down on the coffee table in front of him, his sweet eyes never leaving you, like an obedient puppy.

“Baby. My old man. There is nothing in this world that I want more than you. And only you.” You could see his face drop and even heart drop at that.

He sighed into the room, looked at you with a certain exhaustion, and sadness. Uncertainty. "Don't look at me like that, Joel. I mean it, and you should know it."

"Sweetheart, I—I just don't know what you see in me. Heck, these guys that look at you are all fit, they can go with you to those stupid events without whining about their backs, can keep up with you and they don’t have a past.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You sat up and gently sat down his lap, his cosy pullover hugging you just right.

“I can’t believe you think like that, joel. I don’t care about any of these guys. I don’t care about you ‘not being fit’ which is not true by the way—“ you stopped pointing at his crotch and winking, earning a chuckle from him.

“I don’t even want to go to these stupid events either, look— we went because of maria. Nothing more. Wanted to be home with my man and watch some stupid movies he loves so much.”

“Hey—they ain’t stupid.” He chuckled again.

“Yea yea, whatever. But this is what I really mean joel. Since I came to jackson you were the only one in my eyes. Didn’t care about your past, didn’t care about your back, didn’t care about the fact that you were grumpy—“

“Wait now you are putting extra things in there”

“Sh sh. Didn’t care about any other boys. I saw you and the way you handled things turned me on, your way of demanding, taking care of people, being so stubborn but also the kindest of them all. The one who came to my house because I skipped patrol one day and asked if I was okey.”

His sweet eyes turned glassy, as he held you on your hips and squeezed, letting out a little smile.

“You’re too good to me, baby.”

“Nah, it’s not being good, i’m telling the truth.” You nodded, gently stroking his hair, playing with his curls. “Of course, everything is going slower, of course there are things that you can’t actively do. But I love it just because of that. I enjoy slow evenings on the porch with you. I enjoy waking up late and drinking black coffee that tastes like poison—“ he let out a giggle.

“And I love your wood carvings, your handsome face, your white hair that suits you so much, that grumpy face you always make whenever you need to read something with your glasses.”

You looked into each other’s eyes, he leaned in and connected your lips.

“Can’t believe I have you, baby. My pretty girl.” He cupped your face softly, giving you a peck on your forehead.

“Promise me you are gonna stop having these thoughts about yourself.”

“Can’t really stop them, but I will try and do my best from letting them get me.” He whispered, nodding his head to you.

You put your forehead to his and looked into his beautiful brown eyes, the world around you going silent.

“I love you, joel.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @cuntyhunty22

[wxxpingangxls]

be my baby

guys this is NOT proofread so please bare with me :((

turns out you'd have to wait to see if he could lay it down after all, because armin was not laying it down that night. it was like as soon as he finished eating you out, he switched from freaky nerd to just...nerd.

and now you were upset, like so upset.

you met armin at a campus party, and you had yet to find a roommate compatible for your needs. the dorms needs of course. you found him sitting there on the sofa instead of socialising. typical. anyway, he needed a place to stay, and you needed a roommate, it was a match made in heaven.

he was quiet at first, which was nice, you didn't mind it. but as the months went by, you found out that he had a lot of other assets.

he was funny, witty and well, smart.

but there were a few things that you definitely didn't know and that was how perverse armin was.

oh yes, remember how i mentioned him to be like a typical nerd? think robbie from victorious, or rory from my baby sitters a vampire. pathetic, whiny, little to no female touch. it was cute yes, duh, but you know sometimes it was exhausting.

it wasn't until armin came home one day, after going out, to show you his new accessory. a tongue piercing.

let's just say it started to make sense why you liked all the men you did as a little girl. i mean, seeing that new piercing made you feel things, think about all things you'd do to him. remember how i said sometimes you thought about sitting on his face?

look whose the perverted one now...

anyway, you should've known that armin had some fuck ass tricks up his sleeve.

i mean, you never would've expected that he could suck the soul of out your pussy. that didn't mean that whenever he was rambling on, you weren't staring at his long fingers. long and slender.

"we need to talk," you were stern.

"what about? did you miss another assignment? you need me to write you another essay?"

"no? tf? we need to talk about the other night,"

his face was flushed completely and he started fiddling with his fingers again. it was cute, watching him get so easily flustered. you walked closer, bringing a hand to his cheek. you rubbed his cheek, once, twice, just to calm him down. "...are you mad at me?" he whined.

"what? no, of course not," you huffed. at this point, armin wasn't looking at your face anymore. with those perked up nipples piercing through your tank top how could he? i mean seriously? the minute he saw you staggering towards him at the party he knew he couldn't let you go so easy. his mouth started to practically water, as he imagined suckling on your tart nipples, with another hand down your panties.

"hello? the lights are on but no ones home, are you okay?" armin's ears immediately perked up as he started sputtering some bullshit excuse.

"yeah yeah yeah, whatever i don't care, i just wanna know what else you can do," you grinned slyly.

"what?"

"you heard me," you giggled.

see, while armin was perverse, he wouldn't do anything immoral - to some extent of course. and he definately didn't masterbate to you behind you back. ahaha. but either way, for him this was a dream come true. like, when was the last time we've seen a nerd and a pretty girl? as i said, dream come true.

for both of you in fact.

like i said, match made in heaven.

that's all you could think about as armin's tongue wrapped itself around your nipple, slobbering all over your boob. his left hand was squeezing that boob almost as if he were a breast feeding baby. and as for his right hand? yeah, it was in your panties teasing at your clit. your hushed moans egged him on further as his teeth grazed your sensitive bud.

your boobs felt like water balloons filled with warm water in his cold hands. "armin, you're so good to me," you whispered as his fingers lowered towards your slick hole, before nudging themselves in. he could feel you squeeze around his fingers as he curled them upwards whilst simultaneously playing with your tits.

boy, was he greedy.

his thumb swirled at your clit as his fingers searched for your g-spot. you found yourself bucking your hips once again for more of that much needed friction. armin groaned into your chest as he kept cooing you towards your orgasm. he wanted you to soak his fingers with your juices so that he could suck them off. his mouth started to water even more just thinking about it. it was like some sort of craving he had. to feel you, to hear you and see you. it made him feel sooooo good. too good.

"armin, i'm so close," your trembling voice wavered as he gleamed. he found that spot that'll make you cream and scream.

chants of his name echoed throughout the room alongside with the squelching of your cunt. a part of you would be ashamed and embarrassed, but how could you when you were distracted. "fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk," you squealed as he kept going at your g-spot, never once stopping. you figured all the nights he stayed up hand-writing notes from class, made his hand so strong.

his slender fingers kept playing at your cunt as he moved his face up towards your own. you took the initiative - because for some reason men can't - and gave him a sloppy kiss. your pussy convulsed around his fingers, almost as if they were trying to push him out.

he finally pulled them out before bringing them up to his filthy mouth and swirling his pierced tongue around each individual digit.

"you ever had your dick sucked before?" you teased breathlessly as armin flushed.

"n...no?"

"wanna try it out?"

he looked up at you from his glasses, "i like your tits," he smiled foolishly. that's when you realised that he was not listening to a word you said. either way, he was gonna get his dick wet tonight.

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

18+ MINORS DNI

or: how natasha proposed

part of the short n’ sweet universe

a/n: finally got this done! i’ve been working on this way too long lmao 😭 but here it is

also i hate writing/reading proposal speeches. can’t stand them because i never seem to get them right. tried my best anyway 🫡

summary: natasha wanting to propose + being an idiot about it

warnings: smut (brief, not too detailed)

word count: 11.8k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Not too long ago, you used to study under the best conditions possible. You'd shut every window, every door. You'd light aroma candles and clean your desk to avoid distractions. Your phone? On silent and hidden. With earplugs in to block even the slightest noise, you'd sit down and get started. If possible, you'd go to the library. At night, even, when it's quiet and empty so nothing can disturb you.

That's changed. You'd love to laugh at your past self for ever thinking that those conditions were necessary to study, but you can't. Unfortunately, your past self was right.

Your apartment isn't small, but it's not big, either. It's the perfect size for a family of three — snug, comfy, but with enough space to store the baby bathtub and stroller. You love that you can see the entire living room and kitchen from your desk, but you don't love that you can hear every single noise.

Niko's crying. He's colicky and teething and cranky. Natasha's on a rubber ball, bouncing him, her voice slowly turning more and more panicked. You've tried everything; nursing, chilled teething rings, a warm bath. But the poor little guy's uncomfortable, and he's letting everyone know.

This has been going on for days now. To make matters worse, he doesn't even sleep through the night. Instead, he wakes up twice (if you're lucky) and screeches until you give him attention. You've been hanging on by a thread. All-nighters, coffee, trail mix. A baby clinging to you, drooling and unhappy, and a midterm exam in molecular biology.

You stare at the laptop in front of you. Way too many slides for a midterm, way too detailed and complicated as well. You pick up your pen to take another note, but a particularly loud wail from Niko startles you.

"Sorry", Natasha says when you turn around. She looks sheepish, even if this isn't her fault. You sigh. "Want me to leave the apartment?"

A sweet offer, but you're not sure you want your girlfriend and your infant son to go outside when it's dark. It's a somewhat safe area, but there's no need to take high risk, low reward chances.

"No", you mumble, turning towards your laptop again. Niko lets out another cry. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine", she says, rubbing his back. He squirms against her and starts gnawing on her shoulder. "Just dramatic."

Apparently, the usage of the word 'dramatic' offends Niko immensely. He pulls back, then launches himself at her shoulder and bites like a baby shark. The noise she makes is anything but dignified, and you snort into your coffee cup.

Natasha gets up, still holding Niko. He starts fussing and thrashing in her arms. She leaves the room, quietly, and you hear a door fall shut. The door to his nursery. She's attempting the impossible, which is to get him to calm down.

You try focusing on your studies again. Protein metabolism — ribozymes, membranes, amino acids. Part of you almost regrets letting Natasha leave with Niko. You'd rather comfort a whining baby than read another word that ends in -ases.

You don't want to fail, though, so you keep researching and reading and summarizing. Things seem to be going well, at that point. It's 9pm, the crying has quieted down, and your brain is soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Silence really does seem to work wonders for your ability to concentrate and retain information.

About an hour later, the door opens quietly. Natasha steps out of the nursery, baby monitor in hand, and rubs her face. She looks beat — she didn't even manage to change out of her jersey after coming home, as you immediately shoved a fussing Niko into her arms. Her hair is in a low bun, which is now clinging on for dear life, and her eyes are half-lidded.

Then, she spots you. You're sprawled out on the couch now, an open textbook next to you and some flashcards in your hands. The exhaustion is gone instantly.

You don't miss the way she perks up and silently, you groan. For some reason, she's able to be more distracting than the baby. Whether it's intentional or not is a question you haven't been able to answer yet, but there have been dozens of instances of her being anything but helpful.

It usually starts as something innocent. Sitting down next to you, touching your thigh. Pulling you into her lap after a moment. A mumbled 'missed you' against your neck. At some point, fingers begin to wander. They slip into waistbands and nudge bras aside.

You know why. Between basketball practice, exams, and the chaos that comes with being new parents, you rarely manage to find time for just the two of you. When it does happen, she tries to make the most of it. You do, too, but you're less keen on admitting that.

You end up naked each time. You're not sure if that's something to be proud of, but Natasha may as well be one of those birds that puff up with pride.

When she plops down next to you on the couch, you immediately know that she's about to try again. Biology exam be damned — the last time you had a few minutes without Niko was a week ago, back at Clint's place. Everyone else had been playing a video game. They were yelling, laughing, so they were distracted enough to not notice the little sighs coming from behind them.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders. Her lips press against your cheek, then your jaw. Her free hand moves under your shirt to cup your stomach. You shift, stubbornly staring at a flashcard.

"How's biology going?", she mumbles, rubbing your arm.

"Fine", you reply, still not looking at her. She leans in and starts kissing your neck. Soft lips move over delicate skin, her tongue pokes out to lick a hot stripe over your pulse point. "Natasha."

"Yes, baby?"

You exhale, the frustration evident. Your midterm exam is in two days. Fucking on the couch like dogs in heat certainly isn't a study method that'll help you pass.

"Unless you're about to quiz me on molecular biology, you better keep your hands to yourself."

Natasha isn't too impressed. She hums, pretending to be deep in thought about this, then cups your breast and brushes her thumb over your nipple. Drops of milk spill, but it doesn't faze her. It's been more than half a year, she's aware that you're breastfeeding.

"We haven't had a minute to ourselves in a week", she murmurs. She massages your boob, and a wet patch forms on your shirt. "The damn kid's always interrupting."

"He's a baby", you say, grabbing her arm. "And I'm about to fail my midterm."

Natasha frowns and looks at you. Head tilted, eyebrows messy, eyes clear and intense. Maybe studying really isn't worth the effort, or at least that's what your hormones are trying to convince you of. She's still in her jersey, too, and she has that post game-smell. Sweaty and full of pheromones.

"You think you'll fail?"

"I've barely studied", you say, deadpan. "This is molecular biology. Understanding it isn't enough, I need to know it by heart."

"Right", she mumbles. She presses a kiss to your shoulder. "So you'll fail. Big deal?"

You huff and almost shove her off you, but she just grins. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You'll fail. So what?" She kisses your cheek, then pecks your lips. "You know what?"

You glare at her. She's treating this like a joke, and you're not having it. Natasha waits for you to say something, but you're getting more pissed off by the second, so she laughs quietly and tugs you into her lap.

"If you fail, I'm proposing. Who needs a degree? No wife of mine should have to work a single day in her life, anyway."

Your heart stutters in your chest, but it's hard to take her seriously. To you, it seems like this is one of her usual dumb jokes. But you never would've thought she'd joke about this. She may call you her wife in front of friends and teammates (despite you telling her to cut it out), but you didn't think marriage would be a laughing matter to her.

"Really romantic", you manage to say. "Truly outdoing yourself, Romanoff."

"Mark my words", she says. She tugs at the hem of your shirt, smirking. "If you fail, I'm proposing to you. Now go study unless you want to see me on one knee."

"I'd pay to see that", you mumble. You reach for your textbook and open it.

For exactly ten minutes, you're able to study. You recall information, quiz yourself, check your notes.

You're still in Natasha's lap, though. She still feels the rounded curve of your ass pressing against her, still feels your warmth and smells your scent. Perfume and something sweet and milky. She doesn't want to distract you — a lie — but she can't exactly control it.

You feel her get hard, pressing against you through the fabric of her shorts. You swore you'd study this time, that you'd keep your clothes on. But her hands grip your waist, her lips press against your nape, and you're actually alone for once. Before you know what you're doing, you're on your back and being pounded into the couch.

. . .

Monday morning, you make your way to campus looking like you're about to go to war.

Niko is strapped to Natasha's chest, feet kicking and smiles less gummy. His tooth came in exactly five hours before the exam, which Natasha deemed hilarious. He kept up the sobbing and crying and fevering long enough to keep you from studying, but managed to get the annoying little molar out as soon as it got too late for you to catch up.

He's the only one who's in a good mood, though. Teething aside, he's still suffering from being a little colicky, so he made sure you stay awake by screaming until his face turned red. It took a while, but he's better now.

"Lucky duck", Natasha mutters. She's surviving off energy drinks at this point. "You can nap all day long. I have a seminar later. Fucking Harrison Harris. I swear, whoever named that guy set him up for bullying."

You hum absently. You're staring at a flashcard, with dark circles under your eyes and a coffee cup in your hand. Your hair isn't even washed — you spent the few hours of silence Niko granted you trying to inhale every bit of knowledge you can. A bad idea, as you now feel like you're about to throw up biology facts.

Natasha glances at her phone. "Ten minutes", she informs you. "Want me to go with you? Help you find your seat?"

"I'm good", you mumble, still staring at a flashcard. Niko squeals, his chubby little hand suddenly grabbing and fisting it. "Oh, honey. I promise, that's less fun than it looks."

"He likes the drawing", Natasha says, leaning in. "Is that a peptide bond?"

"Yeah." You sigh and let go of the flashcard. Niko takes that as permission to put it in his mouth and chew on it. You get up and grab your tote bag. "Where are you two going?"

"Oh", she says, bouncing him and trying to seem casual, "we're meeting Wanda and Daisy for some coffee. They wanted to see Niko."

"Alright." You lean in and kiss the top of your son's head. "Bye, baby."

"I assume you're talking to me?", Natasha jokes.

"Both of you."

Smiling, she gets up to pull you closer. Her lips press against yours, her hands hold your waist. Unimpressed, Niko slaps the damp flashcard against your face, but Natasha quickly blocks him.

You pull away and cup her face. "He's rude."

"Got it from me", she agrees. She pecks your lips. "Go, go. Or you'll be late."

You peek into the study hall where the exam will take place. Sure enough, almost all seats are taken. The hallway has gotten empty has well. You nod and turn around, opting for a quick wave before stepping into the room.

Natasha watches for another second, then Niko tips his head back to look at her. He smiles, his single tooth making him look a little like baby Patrick Star, and she leans in to kiss his forehead.

"Come on, bud", she says, walking down the hallway. "Let's see what Wanda and Daisy know about proposals."

The four (three and a half?) of them end up in the little café right next to campus. Daisy secures a corner spot, Wanda grabs the highchair, and Natasha orders the drinks. Black coffee, iced latte, and a hot chocolate for the girl who claims caffeine makes her anxiety worse.

They're not aware of why they got invited here. Usually, they don't hang out with only Natasha; you're always there, as well. This time, she was the one to text them. She also asked them to not tell you, which — surprise — even Daisy succeeded at.

Niko spent the first five minutes in the highchair which Natasha cleaned with Lysol and baby wipes. It took one unhappy grunt for Wanda to coo and pick him up, though, so he's now in her lap and keeping her necklace in a firm grasp.

"So", Daisy says, stealing some of the whipped cream on Wanda's hot chocolate, "why are we here?"

Natasha side-eyes Wanda, who's offering Niko a cookie to suck on. "Oh, I...I'm sorry, can you take that away from him? Just 'cause he got his first tooth doesn't mean he needs a first cavity as well."

"He likes it", Wanda says, removing the cookie from his hand. He lets out a protesting screech, and she kisses his reddish baby curls.

"It's sugar", Daisy says. "Of course he likes it. Romanoff, answer my question. Did you screw up again?"

"What?" She frowns. "No. No, I didn't. What kind of question is that?"

Both of them give her a pointed look à la 'remember Spring Break?', and she shuts up. She's screwed up before. To be fair, it's been a while since Spring Break happened — almost three years, if she's not mistaken — but she really hurt you. She didn't mean to, but she did, anyway.

"Fine", she relents. "I'm an idiot. Not the point, though."

A waitress walks past them and smiles, straight at Natasha. She's pretty, with her blue eyes and honeyed hair, and both Daisy and Wanda realize what she's doing. Subtly flirting with Natasha. Testing the waters. The basketball team's captain is somewhat of a little celebrity around here, after all.

Everyone is aware that she's taken. You're basically famous around here, especially since you're always walking around with a baby in your arms. Some women don't care about that, apparently.

They have different strategies, but the same goal. Wanda clears her throat and Daisy kicks Natasha's shin. She immediately sits up straight.

"Are you fucking kidding-"

"Eyes on us, idiot", Daisy cuts her off. "Why are we here?"

"Right", she mumbles. "I'll just say it, so, uh...how do I propose?"

First, there's silence. Then, Daisy bursts out laughing, so much so that poor Niko actually flinches. Wanda cradles him to her chest, but she doesn't manage to tell Daisy to stop — she's hung up on the fact that Natasha Romanoff is talking about proposing.

She doesn't want to say it out loud. Even if it's the truth, it'd be rude. But everyone knows that Natasha once claimed she'd never commit. Not fully. Campus is filled with girls who got their hearts broken by her. She's blocked double the amount of numbers she has saved as contacts.

Natasha shoots Daisy an irritated look. "Alright", she mutters, sinking into her seat and picking at the cookie on her saucer, "no need to laugh."

"I'm sorry", she wheezes. "You. You? You want to propose?"

"You're not being nice", Wanda tells her. She gives Natasha an apologetic look. "But I get her point. You're proposing?"

"I told Y/N I would if she fails her midterm", she explains, still disgruntled. "I'm serious about this. I'll do it. No matter if she fails, really."

"That's sweet", Daisy mumbles. "Basing a lifelong commitment on an academic failure."

Niko babbles and reaches out to Natasha. She scoops him out of Wanda's lap and immediately rummages through her diaper bag to find the bottle of milk she packed. In the meantime, he manages to grab the cookie she didn't eat and starts gnawing on it like he's been starving for the past week.

"Please", Natasha says. She steals the cookie back and replaces it with the baby bottle. Having forgotten about the sweet treat, Niko latches on. "That's not what it is at all. Look, guys. I'm serious about this. And about her. So either help me or I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving", Wanda says. She's digging through her backpack already, laying out notebooks and pencils on the table. "What did you have in mind?"

Natasha shrugs. She's been thinking about this for days. Actually, she's been racking her brains. Every second of her days are spent trying to find a good way to go about this. Not once in her life did she consider downloading Pinterest, but now, the red circular icon stands out on her home screen.

"Not sure", she says vaguely. "Maybe go on a date, hide the ring in a-"

"No", both of them interject.

"But you didn't-"

"No."

"Trust us", Wanda adds. "What else?"

Natasha shrugs and glances at Niko. He's still suckling, his feet kicking happily under the table. "Maybe a onesie that says 'marry me'?"

"God", Daisy groans. "That's, like, a surefire way to get dumped."

"Oh come on!"

"It's true", Wanda says. She flinches when Daisy suddenly starts hitting her arm like there's a mosquito on it. "What??"

"Jumbotron, jumbotron!"

This time, it's Natasha's turn to intervene. If there's one thing you'd like less than the onesie-idea, it's to be proposed to at one of her basketball games. A proposal in a gym full of sweaty athletes, fellow students and professors sounds like a nightmare.

"Absolutely not", she says firmly. Niko hiccups and spits up, simultaneously unlatching from the bottle. She quickly wipes his mouth. "No jumbotron, no basketball games."

"Boring", Daisy mumbles.

"I have to agree with Natasha", Wanda says. She taps the table and nods. "Did you write anything down? Maybe locations?"

Natasha shakes her head and fishes her phone out of her shorts. She swipes past the lock screen, which is still a half-naked picture of you, and opens one of the apps. She taps on the board she created and hands the phone to Wanda and her finicky eyes.

Daisy leans over her shoulder to peek at it. They're both quiet for a while, scrolling and silently judging. By the time they look up, Natasha's attention has long wavered. She's focused on Niko, who's babbling and playing with her hand.

"You'll need help", Daisy says. Natasha looks up. "I mean, a picnic?"

She frowns. In her mind, it was cute. Private and quiet, no prying eyes. Maybe on a beach, or in some park. Though, there aren't many pretty beaches nearby. And traveling isn't in the cards for you, especially while you're in college and have a baby.

"What's wrong with a picnic?"

"Bugs", Daisy quickly says. "Sand. Birds. Where do you put the baby? I know you guys don't like to leave him with anybody else."

Natasha shrugs. Niko, still in her arms, is now dozing off. The milk managed to make him sleepy.

"I thought I propose with him there."

"No", Daisy says. She frowns and taps a pen against her lips. "Hey, where'd you guys have your first kiss?"

Natasha pauses, one hand gently holding Niko's pacifier. She remembers it, of course, but sometimes, she wishes she didn't. The circumstances weren't romantic. It wasn't like in the movies. It was in a sweaty basement, filled with the stench of alcohol and weed. Everyone was on the floor, spinning a bottle. You kissed her because it landed on her, not because the moment seemed right.

She'd go back and do it differently, if she could. But it's too late for that.

"How's a party at Pietro's sound?"

"My hopes were too high", Daisy says, subtly rolling her eyes. "Your first time, you know..."

Natasha shakes her head. "Nope. Also at the party."

"Saying 'I love you'?"

Her cheeks flush, and her face goes hot. Another moment she wishes she could change. The night of the stabbed basketball, and the rainy hoodie, and the desperate sex in your dorm room. The fighting, the crying. It was all the result of what happened in Miami.

"No", she just says. No need for details, as she feels like they still haven't forgiven her for what she did at Spring Break. "It was in her dorm. We moved out of there, so..."

"Right, right." Daisy sighs and sinks into the red pleather of the booth's seat. "God, you two are complicated."

"You try proposing", Natasha mutters. She gently shifts Niko until she's able to put him back into the carrier. He stirs, but somehow doesn't wake up. "It's harder than it seems."

"Speaking of proposing..."

"No", Daisy says, shooting a glare at Wanda. Natasha frowns at them, and Daisy flips her off. "Don't."

"Are you-"

"Proposal", Wanda quickly says. "Your proposal. What does Y/N like?"

She gives them another skeptical look. They've been acting odd around each other for months now, but neither of them has had the guts to address it yet. She's not sure what exactly is going on, but truthfully, she's too tired to care.

She doesn't press it. Instead, she tries remembering everything you ever expressed fondness for.

"She likes me", she then says, grinning and rubbing Niko's back. All she gets are blank stares, though. "And him, of course."

"You could try taking this seriously", Daisy says, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously, what does she like?"

Natasha sighs and leans back in her seat. Her eyes drift down to Niko, who's sleeping and drooling all over her hoodie. She brushes her fingers over his red curls and tries to think, which is proven difficult due to her running on two and a half hours of sleep.

"Okay", she says slowly. "She likes black coffee. She likes lipstick, I think she has over a dozen of them. Uhm, I have a playlist full of her favorite songs, maybe we can use that. She doesn't like the dark, but she loves it when there are tiny lights everywhere. You know, fairy lights."

Wanda nods and writes everything down. "Fairy lights, there we go. What else?"

"She likes to dance", Natasha admits.

She's been dragged into a slow dance multiple times by you, and she always grumbles and protests. Getting her to actually try is harder than getting Niko to sleep during his sleep regression phase, but she never says no. Even if she's being an idiot.

"Dancing?" Daisy shoots Wanda a doubtful look when she writes that down as well. "How? When?"

"I don't know, hush. Keep going."

"Food", Natasha adds. Niko grunts in his sleep, one foot twitching, and she takes it into her hand. "Like, chocolate-covered anything. And she likes when I dress up a little, so..."

"Suit", Daisy whispers. She earns a glare. "What? You said it first."

"Suit it is", Wanda hums.

"I don't want a suit", Natasha interjects. Shes worn a suit twice so far — to your cousin's wedding, and at your grandfather's 90th birthday. She felt like an idiot playing dress up both times. "It's better if I wear something that's...natural, you know."

Wanda gives her a deadpan look, then adds 'suit' to her list, anyway. If you'll appreciate it, then she's doing it. No doubt.

They spend a total of two hours in the café. By the time they're done, Niko is awake and screaming for another meal. The bottle of pumped milk Natasha brought is empty, so she gets up and silently calculates when your exam should be done.

"I'll send you a text", Wanda says, packing up her stuff. "With the list and everything. Thursday, at my place? We still need to go over the details."

"And the ring", Daisy adds. She touches Wanda's wrist before wrapping her fingers around it, then she leads her outside. Sunlight blinds both Natasha and Niko as she follows them out the door.

"Right", Natasha mumbles, stressing. Niko lets out an unhappy scream. "Okay, okay, I'm getting you food. By the way, can you guys keep your mouths shut around Y/N? I know I told her, but..."

"Yeah", Wanda says, stopping. She reaches into her backpack and fishes out some applesauce for Niko. "No worries."

Natasha hesitates, then grabs the applesauce pouch. You're not the biggest fan of giving Niko sugary food, even if it's just applesauce, but she'd rather he stops crying. She unscrews it and helps him eat some.

"Aunt Wanda to the rescue", she says, smiling kindly.

"Preach", Natasha mumbles. She wipes his chin with her thumb and looks up. "Anyways. Thursday, 10am. Y/N is at a lecture. She'll probably try to skip but I'll make her go."

"All you have to do now is not spoil the surprise", Daisy reminds her. "Don't be an idiot."

Not spoil the surprise — easy enough, Natasha thinks, absently trying to keep Niko from eating her thumb instead. He squeals and grasps at her hand like it's the most precious thing his seven month old little brain has seen.

Little does she know that a), she will be an idiot, and b), not spoiling a surprise is hard when you're this much of a goner for someone.

. . .

Despite your protests and complaints, Natasha manages to make you go to your lecture. It takes a lot of convincing, energy and sweat, but she succeeds. You're not happy about it — you'd rather stay home with Niko, who's somehow teething again (apparently, none of you are catching a break anytime soon), but she finds enough arguments to convince you to go.

You give her a glare. She's in the doorway, dressed in a hoodie and the baby perched on her hip, helping him chew on a frozen piece of cucumber. Unlike you, she doesn't have to get ready for anything. She's spending the day with Niko, at the park, while you have to sit through an entire lecture. That's what she told you, at least.

"What?", she asks, sheepish.

"It's not fair", you say, turning back around and grabbing your makeup bag with a little more force than necessary. "You get to stay here and I have to listen to Gibson talk about statistics for almost two hours."

"It's important", she says, shifting Niko a bit. He tends to suddenly throw himself backwards — an annoying little habit he's developed over the past couple weeks. "You know, it's the last one before the midterm."

"I don't care", you say. You open a lipstick and apply some. "He sends us a video of the lecture, anyway."

Natasha, being who she is, automatically steps closer. You grab her hand and blot your lips with the side of her thumb. It's a routine by now, one neither of you has to acknowledge anymore.

"It's better if you're there in person", she says. Niko tries grabbing your hair, but she stops him. "So you can ask questions."

You turn around and stare at her. "You know I never ask questions."

Of course, you're right. You don't ask questions, and she knows it. She's accompanied you to lectures a bunch of times, mostly when you were pregnant or right after you gave birth to Niko. But she forgot about that little detail.

"Oh", she says dumbly. "Well, I..."

"Told you", you say, turning around again. You adjust your necklace and get up. Natasha watches you leave the bathroom before quickly following you. "There's literally no point in going, but whatever."

"One lecture", she says. "Then you're done for the semester."

You give a dismissive wave of your hand and start looking through your shoe cabinet. High heels, which you started wearing almost immediately after giving birth. A pair of old sneakers Natasha stuffed into the back. Ballet flats and combat boots, and finally, your favorite pumps.

Natasha lingers by the door, Niko still in her arms. She's watching you, carefully, trying to find out what to say to make the look on your face go away. She's pretty sure you're being dramatic, but the dejected expression you're wearing stings.

"It's for your own good", she adds unhelpfully. Niko screeches and grabs her cheek. "You'll focus better."

"I don't need focus", you say. You slip on your pumps and straighten up, then scoop the baby out of her hands. "I don't want to abandon him again."

"You're not abandoning him, he's with his favorite mom."

What she said does make the look of dejection on your face go away — but it's replaced with one of offense and, for some reason, deep disappointment. You glance at Niko, who's perfectly content in your arms, and it's enough to make your bottom lip stick out in a little pout.

Natasha panics. Instead of reassuring you, she only made the guilt worse.

"No, hey, you know what I-"

You glance at her and grin. She lets out a huff when she realizes you were messing with her.

"Calm down, love", you say, putting Niko on your hip. "We both know he prefers me. Walking milk bar and whatever. Don't forget his bottle if you go out, yes?"

On any other day, she'd act offended by this. But there's a smile on your face, on that says 'gotcha', and she's too relieved that her plan will work out to say anything. Instead, she rolls her eyes and reaches for her diaper bag.

Ten minutes after you leave for your lecture, she sneaks out of the apartment as well. You see her car round the corner right after you step out of a café.

It's enough to make you pause for a moment. You shouldn't be worried. Niko's with her, so she's got her hands full. They're probably going out for groceries or something. But all you can think about is her insisting you leave, which resulted in her being alone.

And now, she's leaving without telling you. She didn't even mention it before you left, which makes it feel like a secret. Your stomach twists at the thought, and you feel the guilt hit almost immediately after.

Natasha's not that person anymore. She hasn't been in a long time. These are your insecurities speaking, possibly even stemming from the dozens of marks pregnancy left all over your body.

Confused and still not fully calm, you stand in front of the café for another long moment. Iced latte in hand, sunglasses perched on top of your head. Lipstick, blotted with her pinky. Someone nearly bumps into you, which finally lets you snap out.

"Hey", the guy starts, a studied little smirk on his face. But you direct a glare at him. You're not in the mood to be hit on. "Hey, no worries. I'll just-"

"I'm not interested", you say, voice biting and about to incinerate him with a single look. "Fuck off."

He raises his eyebrows and steps aside, hands lifted. "Yeah, I got that. Jesus Christ."

"Shave that mustache", you add. At this point, you're just being petty. "You look ridiculous."

No reply. He scoffs, hands in his pockets, and hurries down the street. You stand there for another second, shifting in your pumps, then turn around and walk toward campus. Your thoughts, however, remain occupied by Natasha.

. . .

Before she manages to go through with the proposal, she nearly screws up three times. The first time it happens, she's in a jewelry store.

Rings in endless variations, shimmering in polished glass displays. Necklaces, gracing the pulse-less necks of jewelry mannequin stands. A stroller with a drooling baby, and a woman who has no clue what she's looking for. The ring has to be perfect.

Natasha nearly drops her phone when it starts ringing. For a second, she fumbles with it like it's a hot potato — much to Niko's amusement, who starts giggling like this is the most entertaining thing he's ever seen —, then she manages to swipe her thumb across the screen and answer the call.

Her voice, when she speaks, is hurried. "Hello?"

"Hey", you immediately say. You're in your lecture hall, leaning back in your seat. "Prof is giving us a five minute break, thought I'd check in with you."

It's obvious that she didn't expect you to call, at least not yet. She hums noncommittally, silently racking her brain for something to say. Niko kicks his legs in his stroller and screeches, and next to her, a young woman talks.

You freeze at the sound. A woman's voice, close to Natasha, sounding young and soft. Something crawls up your spine, and you're not even sure why.

You can trust her, after all. She's loving and committed. Hell, she doesn't even breathe wrong near other women. However, she did tell you she'd spend the day at home with the baby. Part of you would've expected her to tell you about any possible change of plans.

The saleswoman steps closer to Natasha and hands her another box. There's a ring inside it. One you obviously can't see. If you could, it'd maybe help you tone down your anxiety.

All you see, though, is the narrow table your laptop is on. The pen next to it, the baby sock you carry like a lucky charm. And all you hear is the female voice, mumbling something again. If she's this loud even while speaking softly, she must be standing close to Natasha.

"Who was that?", you ask warily. You hear stuttering, and then that same voice again, and you swallow. "Natasha."

"Just helping me with something", she says after floundering. You nearly let go of your phone. "I'll pick you up later, right? After your lecture. I'll bring you some takeout too, just tell me what you want."

Around you, people start returning to their seats. A guy jumps over the rows to get to his chair, a girl gingerly follows him and giggles. Someone edges past you, apologizing when they almost spill your drink. You, however, barely notice. Not even the professor is importantly, even though he's switching to a new slide already.

All you can focus on is Natasha. Natasha, who said she didn't have any plans. Natasha, who's now definitely losing her shit on the phone while pretending not to. Worst of all? — Wherever she may be, she brought Niko with her.

"I don't want takeout", you snap, absently starting to pack up your stuff. You slam your laptop shut with a little more force than necessary. "When will you be home?"

"Uh..." Natasha gives the saleswoman, who's still holding two new rings, a quick glance. "Half an hour?"

'Romanoff, I'm killing you' — those are the first words that pop into your head. But even with your hand balling into a fist on the table, you manage to exhale and calm down enough not to threaten her over the phone.

"I'll be at Wanda's", you say slowly. You're pushing through the overcrowded rows to get to the exit. "Half an hour, right? Pick me up."

"Sure", she says, nodding dumbly. "No takeout?"

"No. Just be on time, alright? I have to nurse."

Natasha gives the saleswoman a slightly more irritated look when she shows her another ring. But this time, instead of shaking her head no, she pauses. You're still panicking silently, still trying to get the thought of her with another woman out of your head. Natasha, however, has found the piece of jewelry she'll be proposing with.

After this, you get a week long break. Natasha makes plans whenever she gets the chance to — she opens her notes the second you're asleep (which she can usually notice happen as your voice will drift off mid sentence); she calls Wanda to ask about flowers and fairy lights and all kinds of stuff you may like (it was a firm no on the condoms, though); she secretly glances at your own Pinterest boards to see what you have in mind.

She's getting somewhere, slowly but surely. She's got the ring, which she hid in the very corner of her locker. She's got an outfit picked out, stored at Wanda's place. She's rehearsed her speech dozens of times. There aren't many things left to do.

The day you get your exam results is inching closer like a dark cloud in the sky. You can feel the weight on your shoulders, so much so that you've almost forgotten about Natasha's promise — if you fail, I'm proposing. A joke, surely. Nothing to be taken seriously.

Still, the hope lingers. She manages to shatter it anyway, and the second time that happens, you think you're about to lose her for good.

It was supposed to be a long day. Your professor had made you get into groups for a project, so you met up at one of the girls' apartment to get started on it. It was tiring, and your head is still hurting from the unnecessary amount of candles and potpourri she has everywhere, but you finished early. The only logical thing to do is go home.

Standing in front of your apartment, you rummage through your purse. Your nails are red and chipped, a bandaid around your thumb — Niko's favorite chewing toy. You open the door, step in, and freeze.

Nothing. Silence. All the lights are turned off, the stroller is missing, the apartment feels empty. Natasha and Niko usually nap on the couch in the afternoon, but it's empty now.

You smell perfume, though. It's not yours, and it definitely isn't hers, either. You see the hoodie slung over the back of a chair, and you feel your skin start to crawl. It's pink and definitely not her size, and it doesn't belong to you, either.

Miami pops into your head, unbidden and intrusive. Stepping through that door and catching her with a stranger left its marks. You like to pretend it didn't, but you know it's true. Right now, you know it more than ever.

You turn around a few times, like you're expecting her to magically step out from behind a corner. But you're alone, and the apartment is empty, and Natasha is standing in the middle of a lecture hall.

She has no idea how they managed to sneak in here. It's noon on a Saturday, and it was locked — but she shouldn't underestimate Wanda with a hairpin, apparently. It took some wiggling and huffing, but eventually, the lock had clicked.

"You're sure about this?", Daisy asks, dragging her finger over one of the windowsills. A thick layer of dust is left on her finger. "This place is gross."

"It makes sense", Natasha defends herself. She's standing on the stairs that lead all the way down to where the professor stands. Niko's in his stroller, asleep and quiet for once. "I mean, I told you. She's not going to expect this, that's for sure."

"She is", Wanda mumbles under her breath. She's all the way in the back, trying to figure out of to make this happen. She doesn't understand Natasha's plan, either. But she seems intent on doing this her way, and they have no choice but to trust her. She's the one who's proposing, after all. She hopefully knows you better than they do.

Daisy nods at the ceiling. "Think we could hang up fairy lights?"

"Scatter the tables with roses", Wanda adds.

"Nothing too obvious", Natasha insists, her hands tucked into the pockets of her basketball shorts. "It's a surprise."

"I still can't believe you convinced her", Daisy says. She walks to the blackboard and nudges it a little further up. "Maybe draw something on this. Or write. I don't know."

Natasha has never been the most creative person. Her skills lie in the physical fields — in basketball and cardio, not poetry and art. Staring at the blackboard, which is still full of little specks of chalk, she can't come up with anything. The best she can offer would be a game strategy.

Daisy, on the other hand, is approaching this with a little more confidence. A few practiced hand movements later, Natasha and Wanda are staring at something that looks a lot like a certain genital.

"Can you take this seriously?", Natasha eventually snaps.

"It is serious."

"What's coming out of-...oh."

Behind her, Niko grunts in his sleep. He's still dozing, but she knows she's approaching the end of his nap. If she wants to get this done, she needs to be quick. But she's still clueless, and the baby makes another noise, and her phone buzzing is the final straw.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and curses when she sees your name on the screen. Apparently, you're done early with whatever project you're working on. She'd know what it's about, but she's been a little preoccupied. Not even you could blame her for that.

"Who's that?", Wanda pipes up.

"Wifey", Daisy grins. She adds a condom wrapper and puts the chalk aside. "Look, no more accidental babies."

"Shut up", Natasha hisses. She picks up the call, hands sweating and mouth suddenly dry. Just weeks ago, she was joking about this. Joking about a proposal and marriage, joking about things that are now almost giving her more anxiety than the pregnancy did.

She clears her throat before speaking. You, on the other end of the line, frown.

"Yes?", Natasha says. She clears her throat again, and Niko finally wakes up enough to yawn and stretch. He blinks slowly, arms stretched above his head.

"Where are you? And where's my baby?"

Natasha tugs at the neckline of her shirt, silently trying not to panic. You sound pissed. If there's one thing she's learned, it's that you sounding angry when the apartment is empty is a bad sign. On any other occasion, you'd try and rest a bit. Instead, you're about to chew the hell out of her.

"Uhm", she says dumbly, but you're already on a rant.

"You can't keep doing this, you know! The apartment is empty, you idiot. You're both gone. It smells like perfume. Where the fuck are you? Do you know how worried I am?"

"No, I-"

"Who are you with?", you suddenly demand to know. Her cheeks are red and not by now, her eyes meeting Wanda's. All she gets from your best friend is a shrug.

"Listen", Natasha says. She's trying to explain without giving anything away, which seems impossible in that moment. A few years ago, she would've lied her way out of this without struggling at all. Unfortunately, she's somewhat honest now. "We're just, uh..."

"Okay, 'we'?"

"Wanda and Daisy!", she blurts.

There it is. You go silent on the other end of the line, and all she hears is a slow breath. Relief, probably. Or another wave of anger that's about to drown her.

You huff softly, but it doesn't sound angry anymore. Just tired. "Oh. Right."

"They wanted to see Niko", she continues, glancing at the baby. He's half-awake now, rubbing his eyes and his pacifier close to falling out of his mouth. "I thought, you know...we have the day off anyway."

"Got it", you say, nodding. You're feeling dumb now. Guilty, too. You should know better than to believe she'd do something like that. She's not a cheater. "Just come home soon."

"We're leaving in ten", she promises. You hang up again, and she slips her phone back into her pocket.

It does take them ten more minutes. Wanda gets a list of things to do, Daisy gets a list of things not to do. Natasha doesn't know what she's doing, but she's following her instincts. Hopefully, that'll be enough.

When she gets home, you can't even bring yourself to be mad at her. Red hair, in a low bun. A baby on her hip. A bouquet of roses in her hand, red and fresh. Her green eyes give you a look that's filled with half a dozen different apologies.

You want to cry. You're standing in the doorway, dressed in an oversized shirt and a pair of her boxers, all ready to fight. But she's sweaty and flushed, so all you manage to do is cup her face and kiss her stupid mouth. She doesn't taste different, thank god. Like plain chapstick and toothpaste, nothing else.

Not a hint of perfume on her clothes either, you silently register. Niko squeals and grabs your ear, and that's enough to make you pull away.

"You were worried?", she mumbles, snaking one arm around your waist. The roses press against your lower back. You reach up to brush strands of hair, curling slightly in the heat, from her face.

"Losing my mind, actually." You peck her lips again, your nose brushing against hers. "You brought flowers."

"You deserve them", she says, revealing the bouquet again. You accept it and try to breathe in the scent, but Niko is quicker. His chubby little hand darts forward and grasps one of the flowers. Red petals are squished between his fingers.

You raise your eyebrows at him and take his hand. A ticklish spot on his wrist makes his fingers loosen. Instead of trying to whine and complain, he stretches out his arms so you can pick him up. Natasha, his favorite mom — yeah right.

"He missed you", she adds, following you into the apartment. "I missed you. How was it?"

"The project? Not bad."

Natasha nods and leans against the wall. Her hands are back in the pockets of her shorts, and she's watching you as you change Niko on the couch. It's becoming more and more of a struggle every day. The more he wants to move, the closer he is to rolling off the couch.

"The exam results", she suddenly says. You glance at her, one hand resting on Niko's belly so he doesn't flop over. "Next week. You nervous?"

You grimace slightly. Exam results — two words you don't want to hear right now. You've been pushing those worries aside, as you can't do anything about it anymore either. Part of you is fairly certain you failed, though.

"Don't remind me", you say and reach for the wicker basket on the coffee table. You keep some of Niko's essentials, like diapers and wet wipes, there. "Do you know how much I'll have to work to make up for that? I'll have a nervous breakdown before summer starts, I'm telling you."

Natasha shifts and shrugs, a single red lock coming loose and blocking her left eye. "Not looking forward to it? Can't think of anything good that might happen?"

"Hold still", you mumble. Niko squeals and kicks at your hand, getting some diaper cream on his foot. You give her a quick, doubting look. "Are you on something? What's there to look forward to?"

Asking you this question was her way of gauging your mood. She's been worried about this for a while, because getting proposed to right after receiving a bad grade doesn't sound like the ideal way to get engaged. You might be too disappointed, after all. Or you might end up strangling her.

You're oblivious, though. You're too busy trying to keep your baby from somersaulting off the couch, so you close his diaper and use the heel of your hand to wipe the cream off his toes.

"I mean", Natasha begins. She falters. "I don't know. Like, maybe something nice happens. Come on, you can't be that negative."

The look you shoot at her makes her recoil a little. Eyebrows raised, you turn around to button Niko's onesie back up and scoop him into your arms.

"You're mocking me at this point", you say, irritated, and carry the baby into the bedroom. Natasha follows — she hesitates, but she follows. "You know I've been nervous for weeks, Nat."

"Yes, but-"

You stop in your tracks and whip around, jamming your finger into her chest. Her eyes widen and she comes to a sudden halt. You're in a shirt that's swallowing you whole, diaper cream on your knee and a sleepy baby on your hip. Yet, she's never been more terrified.

Except for once. She's not forgetting about the night in the dorm anytime soon.

"I don't need you to go on and on about this", you say firmly. Niko nuzzles your shoulder with his face and yawns. "I don't keep reminding you of basketball games either when you haven't been practicing enough. So quit it."

She lifts her hands. She's powerless here, and arguing would only make matters worse. If she wants you to say yes, she should probably make sure you don't leave her before she has the chance to ask.

"Alright", she says, furrowing her eyebrows. You sigh and put your hand on Niko's back again. "I'll let it go, babe."

"Good."

Natasha stays in the doorway, watching you sit down and lift your shirt. Six days — that's when you're getting your results back. Six days, and she has to make sure she doesn't screw up. The ring is in her locker already, waiting patiently behind old clothes and a stack of books.

There's not much time to make another mistake. But Natasha's a woman of many talents, and she manages to do it anyway.

. . .

Friday morning. Natasha's been up since 4am, and this time, it isn't Niko's fault. It's her anxiety, the tingling feeling in her stomach, the ring that's now hidden in the back of the closet.

You haven't noticed yet, somehow. You're at the kitchen table, attached to the breastmilk pump and yawning, one hand rocking Niko's bassinet. He's asleep with his hand resting on his tummy. You've been oblivious all morning, but that's about to change.

You watch Natasha as she darts around the kitchen like a restless bird. Pots clatter, the coffee machine grinds, and she curses when she drops a slice of whole grain bread. She bends over to pick it up, then goes back to opening one drawer after the other.

"Nat?", you ask, still rocking the bassinet. She doesn't even look at you. "Hey, babe. How many energy drinks did you have?"

"Huh?" She turns around, eyes sleep-deprived and hair disheveled. "None. Why?"

"You're running around like a headless chicken", you say. "It's making me nervous."

"That's not exactly my issue", she mutters, turning back around. She closes the drawer, but instead of doing it gently, she accidentally slams it back into place. Silverware rattles loudly, and Niko fusses in his bassinet. "Shit, fuck- sorry."

You frown, one hand rubbing the baby's belly. He goes right back to sleep. But what really worries you is Natasha, and her behavior these past couple weeks. She's somewhere else all the time. She's texting people at night, when she thinks you're asleep. You heard her take a call in the bathroom once, her voice a hushed whisper.

Something's going on, and she won't tell you what it is. Not knowing makes it all the more scary.

"Do you want to talk?", you ask and get up. You remove the breast pumps and carry them to the baby bottles by the sink. Natasha immediately leans in, pressing an apologetic kiss to your temple. "You're acting weird."

"Weird?", she mumbles, still nuzzling your temple. Her arms wrap around your shoulders. "Not weird. Hm, you smell nice."

You pull away to give her a confused look, but she doesn't budge. One hand sneaks to the waistband of your sweatpants, but you lightly slap it aside.

"I'm the one who's postpartum", you remind her. "Mood swings are my thing. What's wrong with you?"

Natasha frowns, clearly offended. Still, you see the anxious little flicker in her eyes. The one that hasn't disappeared in weeks. Not fully.

"Wrong?", she asks, putting her hand on your side once more. She hooks her thumb into the waistband. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just appreciating my beautiful girlfriend. You're so hot, you know."

"And you're acting off", you retort. You slip out of her embrace and grab the baby bottles. "We're leaving soon. Are you going to keep staring at my ass or make yourself useful?"

Your question doesn't even register. She's been thinking about the engagement ring in the closet all day, but now that she's able to ogle you, it's not the only thing on her mind. Unfortunately, you have different plans.

Before you leave the house, she manages to sneak into the bedroom one more time. The red velvet feels soft beneath her fingertips, and she slides it into her backpack.

You both have class, so you part for the first two hours of the morning. Much to Natasha's relief — she still needs to meet up with Wanda to make sure everything's ready.

Phone in her hand and hair in a low bun, she stands in front of her open locker. She's typing on her phone, her head almost fully inside the dark space. It smells like deodorant and something old, but at least she's not being bothered by anyone. It's quiet, it's allowing her to be deep in thought. All she can see is the lit up screen in her hands.

Then, someone taps her shoulder. Slamming her phone into the locker screen-down, she whips around. The eyes she meets are way too familiar. She sees them every day, every night. She's seen them in every situation imaginable.

There it is. The third time she almost screws it up.

"Y/N", she stutters, blindly reaching for the door of the locker. Her hand slips from it once before she finally shuts it. "What are you- I thought we're meeting in the library."

"We were", you say, a frown on your face. You didn't miss the way she tossed her phone into the locker. "Were you trying to climb in there?"

"No, just..." She shakes her head, sweating already. She thought she'd have at least another half an hour before she'd soak through her shirt, but maybe she was wrong. "Just looking for my hoodie."

You glance at the locker again, think about her phone that's buried somewhere in the mess inside it. Natasha tries to distract you by scooping Niko from your arms, but it doesn't work. She was texting someone. She was hiding inside her locker, and she panicked when you showed up.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other. Your fingers are twisting your earring nervously, but your voice is quiet and sharp.

"If you have something to tell me", you say, "you better tell me now. Seriously. I'm sick of your lies."

Natasha's eyes flicker up from Niko's face. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She was nervous before already — she barely slept, battled nausea and jitters all morning, tried to keep herself from bolting. After all this time, she isn't perfect. Proposing has turned out to be a bigger challenge than she thought it'd be, no matter how committed she might be.

"No lies", she promises. Niko squawks and slaps her chest. "Promise. You just startled me."

"Natasha", you hiss, stepping closer. "Stop lying. What are you hiding?"

She looks at you, heart beating wildly and face dumbfounded. You're not backing down from this. You're inches away from her face, smelling like perfume and looking like you're about to murder her on the spot.

She's trapped. There's no way out. Either she explains, or you're storming out and causing the plans she has to go up in flames. Neither choice is good, but she knows which one sounds less painful. She has to ruin the surprise, even if it stings.

But then, she looks over your shoulder just in time. Daisy is hurrying down the hallway, waving the phone in her hand. The midterm results are in, which means you'll get distracted. Natasha perks up.

"Hey!", she says. You frown and turn around. "Midterms! Came in five minutes ago!"

You blink, then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Natasha was right: you are distracted. You're still not happy with her, but you're too focused on logging into the course portal. The grade pops up on your screen, but you don't really have to check it. There's a word next to it, all capital letters and red, which tells you what you need to know.

FAILED.

Natasha peeks at the screen right as you turn off your phone. You're not too surprised, but the result is disappointing anyway. Catching up will be hard.

"Oh", she mumbles. She glances at your face. "Sorry, babe."

"No, I..." You exhale and shake your head. "It's fine. It sucks, but it's fine. I'll catch up, right?"

She hums, eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You're sad. I can think of something to change that."

You give her an irritated look. No way is she trying to use this to initiate sex. You're on campus, in the middle of a hallway, and she's trying to take your clothes off again. But she doesn't flinch, doesn't back down.

"You think that's funny?"

"It's not", she says, her voice sincere. She grabs your hand to lift it to her lips and press a kiss against your knuckles. "I know what'll cheer you up. Don't trust me?"

"No", you quickly reply. Natasha huffs. "You're acting weird. Again."

She tugs at your hand, as insistent as ever. She's always been like this. Even back then when you rejected her time after time, she kept trying. She knew it'd be worth it, and she still does. The only difference is that, now, it isn't about sex.

"Please", she says. Her hand squeezes yours, her feet start to move. The soles of her shoes squeak on vinyl flooring, and you're following her without really realizing. Niko's still in her arms, now dozing off. "Just this once."

"You've said that before", you remind her and narrow your eyes.

Natasha cracks a smile and shrugs. You've rounded the corner and are now approaching one of the lecture halls. Not having expected this, you blink a few times when she leads you towards it. She lets go of your hand to open the door.

Inside, it's different than usual. Not all of it is — the tiered seating, the fold-down chairs, are all the same. The smell of old paper and chalk, too, as well as the empty podium and the large blackboard.

But fairy lights hang from the ceiling. There's a thin stack of papers on one of the tables, as well as a pen next to it. Her cologne is woven through the other, less comforting smells.

You look at her, still wary. "What the fuck."

She rolls her eyes and nudges you toward the seats. You sigh and step closer, glancing at the stack of papers. All that's written on the front is your name in big letters. Natasha's handwriting.

"Sit down", she says. Niko lets out a sleepy yawn, but his green eyes are glued to the lights stretching across the ceiling. "Come find me after."

You shake your head, still staring at the papers. By the time her words have registered, she's left. The door has fallen shut and you're alone in the lecture hall.

The epiphany is sudden and unbearable. This is what she's been so secretive about. You've been distrustful and snippy about it, but she spent weeks working on whatever this is anyway. She kept going until the very last second.

Your footsteps are loud in the empty space. You slowly sit down, eyes on the papers, and reach for the pen. You flip the first page over and skim it — multiple choice questions —, then actually read the first question.

1. Where did we meet?

Ⓡ Library

Ⓓ University's main entrance

Ⓨ Parking lot

Ⓛ Behind a bar

It makes you pause. Every muscle in your body seems to go rigid for a moment. It's a pop quiz, a custom one Natasha made. And you're supposed to sit here, and answer questions, and hopefully find out what the hell she's planned.

You have an idea, but you don't dare hold onto that hope. Maybe this is a setup.

You hesitate for a second, then pull the cap off the pen and put a cross over the Ⓓ. If there's one thing you're not forgetting, it's where you met. How you met, really. You could swear you still feel a slight dent in the back of your head.

You look at the second question and purse your lips.

2. Great choice! What did I throw at you? (Sorry about that)

Ⓩ Water bottle

Ⓖ Eraser

Ⓒ Myself lol

Ⓞ Basketball

It's answer Ⓞ, of course. Your hand instinctively feels for the dent at the back of your head, but you can't find it. You probably imagined having one in the first place.

The next questions continue in a similar manner. From the color of her jersey to your favorite lipstick, your first kiss and your anniversary. You hold your breath when you reach the last one.

8. Who should not have to work a day in their life?

Ⓦ Me

Ⓐ Niko

Ⓤ Random guy from the gym

Ⓜ︎ My wife (you?)

You stare at it for a long while. Another thing you remember. The night you tried and miserably failed to study for your midterm. Endless slides of molecular biology knowledge, a colicky baby, a less than helpful but well meaning Natasha. Suddenly, her intentions are clear.

Your hand shakes as you put a cross over the Ⓜ︎. You skim the answers, the letters of the answers to be exact, and write them down one by one.

D - O - R - M R - O - O - M

You shove the pen aside with so much force that it rolls off the table, but you ignore it. Instead, you get up and leave the fairy lights-adorned space that Natasha may have changed forever. If you ever have another lecture here, you won't be able to think about anything else.

You know what she's talking about. Your old dorm — it's where you spent a majority of your relationship. Before Niko, before you even thought about calling this love. Back then, getting to the point you're at now seemed impossible. But things are different.

Your heart is pounding in your ears. Whatever she's about to do — she means it. That alone makes the weeks of fear and uncertainty worth it. Suddenly, the way to the dormitory seems unnecessarily long.

The door creaks when you push it open. Inside the hallway of the dorm, it still smells the exact same as it did about a year ago. Mildew, citrus, beer. There's a cigarette butt and some shards on the floor, but you ignore those. You reach the elevator and repeatedly push the button to make the old device react.

The doors seem to be stuck for a moment, then they finally slide open. You press the button to the desired floor without having to think about it. They slide open again, revealing a hallway that's dark and familiar. You step out and stare at the door across from you.

There were stickers on it once. Tons of them, covering it and giving it a little life. Whoever moved into the dorm room now peeled them off. They're all gone, except for a little part of Strawberry Shortcake's hat.

You hesitate when you see the flicker of light coming from the narrow gap underneath the door. But then you step closer, and the doorknob still feels round and cold in your hand, and a single twist of it reveals your old dorm room. Your heart stumbles when you see it.

A twin bed and a desk. An old closet. More fairy lights, a bunch of candles, and Natasha going down on her knee so fast she almost topples over. For once, she's in a suit. It's even ironed. You didn't think that detail would be the one to make you tear up, but somehow, it is.

The best part is her face, though. You've never seen her this nervous, and the tears in your eyes only worsen the anxiety. Her hands shake when she pulls out a little velvet box and opens it, and the ring inside shimmers.

"Y/N-", she begins, voice just as unsteady. You don't really need to hear the rest, though. You're seeing enough, and you've known your answer to this for a while.

"Yes."

She looks up and blinks. Her eyebrows furrow a little and she tries to shift her weight. "Dude, I have a speech prepared."

You shake your head and rub your eyes. "Sorry, I..." You let out a choked little laugh and gesture at her. "You look ridiculous. Keep going."

Natasha stares for another moment, her heart thrumming. She clears her throat and tries to remember what she wrote down — a full page, which is impressive considering she doesn't like to write much. But the words fail her, and so she needs to improvise.

"I practiced this in front of the mirror", she explains, absently toying with the ring box. "I tried. I got interrupted. This will probably suck, you know, but I make up for it in other ways. Promise."

"Yeah", you mumble, nodding. "You do."

"I try", she adds. "Every day. For you and Niko. I don't want him to remember a day where there wasn't a ring on your finger. He should know how amazing his mom is. Because you are, and I want you to know that. I want to be the one telling you that forever. Every game I win is for you."

At this point, you're barely keeping yourself from dragging her off the floor and into a kiss. Your eyes are burning, your jaw is set stubbornly. But Natasha is still reciting quotes from the poetry book that her mind has turned into, and truthfully, it's too sweet to interrupt.

"I'm sweating through my shirt", she says, shifting again. You've seen her restless before, usually at important events. If she could, she'd wear sweatpants and a hoodie everywhere. "I ironed it myself. I think you can tell."

"I can't", you say. You opt for a faint smile, but your eyes are burning. "I don't know how to iron, either. Sorry about that."

Natasha smiles back, her grip on the ring box getting tighter. The fairy lights around her flicker softly and she looks down at the floor. She swore to herself she wouldn't cry, but she doesn't think she'll be able not to.

"That's fine", she says. "We'll survive wrinkly clothes. We survived everything else, too."

"Dramatic", you whisper. But she's right, anyway. You survived months of living off ramen, you survived the fights and the days where you didn't think it'd get better. Months of pining, which was worse because it was mutual.

There was no communication. All you knew was to get loud.

"No", Natasha says. "Not dramatic. I was the worst version of myself and you still wanted me. That's really fucking impressive, by the way. And...I had a quote prepared, but I think I forgot."

You shake your head. It feels like the room is spinning. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sweating through my suit", she adds, tugging at one lapel. "This was supposed to be longer, but I kinda feel faint. And I can't really ask you if I pass out, so...”

Natasha holds the box a little higher. She tilts her head to the side and smiles, but her voice cracks. "Marry me?"

You've said yes already. A bunch of times, actually — when you walked into the lecture hall and took the fake pop quiz. When you walked to your old dorm. When you saw her on one knee, hair just slightly messy and cheeks as pink as if she'd been practicing basketball for hours. She never needed to finish the speech.

You say it again, anyway.

"Yes."

Natasha stares, heart pounding faster than when they won the championship game last March. She almost drops her ring on her way to you, but remembers its purpose in the last second.

Her hand grips yours, and the piece of jewelry is slid onto your ring finger. Before she can do much else, you've grabbed the front of her suit and pulled her into a kiss that makes her stumble.

She catches herself quickly, though, and her hands land on your waist. She doesn't resist when you walk her backwards. In fact, a very obvious part of her seems to approve of being pushed onto the twin bed.

Natasha paid the girl who lives here now $200 to move her stuff out for the day and let her use the room. She never said anything about using the bed, but that's a problem for later. You're straddling her already, which makes it hard to think anyway.

Your hands fumble with the buttons of her shirt. Your mouth presses against hers again and again, lips slick and noses bumping.

"Where's...the baby?...", you ask in between kisses. You finally slip off her shirt.

"Daisy", she mumbles. She pulls away to start peppering kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. In the middle of sucking a hickey into your skin, she pauses. "Hey, I remember the quote."

"Not the time", you say, pushing her down. Your hands reach for her zipper, opening it and pulling at her slacks. She lifts her hips to help you. "No condom?"

She shakes her head and watches you undress. Her chest is heaving with each breath, and she's fighting hard for every single one. "We risked it once. Turned out fine."

You hum and sink down. You both moan at the same time, and you bury your hands in her hair once you've undone her braid. She leans in to bury her face in your chest.

"Love you", she mumbles. Hands on your hips, she guides every movement. "Thank you for saying yes."

You scoff, but it melts into a moan when she thrusts up into you. "Don't- don't thank me. Ruins it."

"You're right."

Natasha's fingers curl into your skin, her thumbs rubbing circles into it. Little stretch marks look like a map, and she's memorized them a while ago. Her lips press kisses to your chest, her face nuzzling it. You come with her body under yours and her ring on your finger.

Moments later, you're curled up on the bed together. You're playing with strands of her hair. The room smells like candles and the chocolate covered strawberries she forgot on the dresser.

Her hand runs up and down your back, tracing your spine. A kiss is placed on your forehead. You look up, immediately seeing her eyes, and tilt your head at the look in them. She smiles lazily.

"Want to hear the quote?"

[astonmartinii]

reluctant cupid | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem bff!reader

you could set your bestie up with a driver or you could confess your feelings? lando norris is dumb.

based on this request: Could you write something about being best friends with lando and he tries to help set you up with another driver you have a crush on, but then he realises he actually likes you so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and you end up together Idk if that makes sense 😭🫶🏼🫶🏼 -@mbappesleftthigh

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 49,340 others

yourusername: someone please save me from the grips of hinge and this oh so lonesome life

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user1: girl knows the whole f1 paddock and looks like that and is still alone there is NO HOPE for me

user2: this post might have thrown me over the edge

landonorris: "i'm so lonely" "why don't you approach that guy" "no too scary"

user3: that's so real though

yourusername: thank you!

landonorris: how do you expect to find a boyfriend when you don't like to talk to anyone and treat hinge like a gameshow

yourusername: i didn't come here for actual advice let me commiserate in peace. god, can women have anything these days?

landonorris: ???

yourusername: oh! idea! pretty please set me up with one of your friends? they have to be great otherwise you wouldn't be friends with them, right? RIGHT?

landonorris: i guess...

yourusername: please lando, i've never asked for anything before

landonorris: i can feel you pouting through the phone

yourusername: so you'll consider ?

landonorris: fine...

user4: bro either gotta admit his feelings now or be condemned to be in the plot of a weird romantic comedy

user5: i personally don't think i can wait until the third act break up with this side character LANDO ACT NOW

oscarpiastri: you'd really trust lando's judgement?

yourusername: he's friends with me, he's got good taste?

oscarpiastri: touche

maxverstappen1: whatever you really wanna say oscar, you gotta keep it in, these idiots will figure it out eventually

yourusername: ???

landonorris: ???

user6: the grid are so done with their asses i can't 😭

user7: but what if the universe doesn't intervene and lando really has just lost the girl forever?

user8: bestie we can't be thinking like this

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 812,047 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: being back home means being bothered by her (and whatever is her newest hyperfixation - it's sylvanian families this month if you couldn't tell)

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user9: i am so sorry but they are so in love

user10: it's cute in the movies, but these blind bitches are starting to piss me off

yourusername: THEY CAN HEAR YOU, BE A BETTER DAD

landonorris: they're not my children

yourusername: you take that back right now, you LOVE them

landonorris: you spent my money on them yes

yourusername: that's fatherhood, buddy. buckle up

user11: whoever he sets her up (if he's still dumb enough to do that) is gonna be the biggest third wheel in history

user12: who would willingly sign up for that

user13: me. i would. i have two working eyes and have seen y/n

maxverstappen1: who are these funky little critters and how can i procure some for p?

yourusername: finally a man with sense, literally any grocery store or toy store

maxverstappen1: perf

yourusername: if lando stops being mr. grumpy i'll ask him if i can come to a race and p and i can play animal families

landonorris: i am NOT mr. grumpy

maxverstappen1: you kinda are dude. is it the set-up is it stressing you out?

landonorris: nO

yourusername: then why are you putting it off !!! lando i might die from terminal yearning !!!

landonorris: i have an interested candidate

yourusername: really? do you think they'll actually like me? like this isn't a pity date right?

landonorris: nope!

user14: lando is typing through tears as we speak

user15: if y/n does go on a date with someone from the paddock i actually hope it goes well, as one lonely girl to another, it's tough out here we need one win

f1wagupdates

liked by user18, user19 and 11,043 others

tagged: yourusername & carlossainz55

f1wagupdates: turns out lando is a bit of a cupid as his childhood friend y/n y/ln was spotted out and about with carlos sainz.

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user20: HE ACTUALLY DID IT

user21: that moment when you're so down bad for a girl that you set her up with your best friend

user22: that moment when you're such a wimp you can't admit your feelings and set up the girl you like with a literal GREEK GOD

user23: i am so bamboozled by this move he literally looked like a kicked puppy on his stream bro this is your doing 😭

user24: she's a lover girl she's going to get her heart broken :(

user25: this has mess written all over it

user26: she's literally described herself as a terminal yearner i feel like she'll throw herself in and will get hurt

user27: UNLESS! this is all part of the plan? what if lando set her up with a messy guy like carlos so he can be the shoulder to cry on and that's how he slides in?

user28: that's very convoluted, very rom-com but i'll take it if it means we get lando and y/n together in the end

user29: i know this probably won't last long but can we all appreciate how hot this couple is?

user30: lando and y/n runs rings round y/n and carlos

user31: lol lando is a bad friend for setting her up with CARLOS him and charles are THEE red flags

user32: i hope y/n is prepared

user33: also lando hasn't thought it fully out if his plan is to be the shoulder to cry on because he's just opening her up to be called a homie hopper or a paddock bunny

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 702,554 others

carlossainz55: productive weekend with my girl

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user34: well that's not y/n

user35: that finished faster than i expected

user36: lando DO NOT quit your day job

landonorris: call me bro

carlossainz55: si, cabron

user37: i don't think they'll be cabrons after this call

user38: maybe this is all just going to plan?

user39: yall gotta give up this conspiracy theory maybe these people are just as dumb and mean as they seem to be

user40: soooooo... what did we all do this weeekend?

user41: i broke a girl's heart @carlossainz55 twins 👯‍♂️

user42: AHHHH???

maxverstappen1: oh that's not-

yourusername: you're so chronically online :(

maxverstappen1: you're alive?

yourusername: yes. coming at you live from the bed i'm currently rotting in

maxverstappen1: not going to say i didn't warn you?

carlossainz55: really? in my own comment section?

yourusername: one second, we're having a conversation here

maxverstappen1: yeah carlos, gosh.

carlossainz55: i'm so confused

user43: okay power move to just start a conversation in his comments?

user44: the power of confusion is simply unmatched

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 56,309 others

yourusername: certified boy hater

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user45: a ferrari boy will do that to you

landonorris: feeling hashtag victimised rn

yourusername: obviously doesn't include you girlypop. but you seriously need to reevaluate your judgement

landonorris: carlos is attractive?

yourusername: he ghosted me?

carlossainz55: i am right here

yourusername: blocked.

landonorris: did you actually just block him?

yourusername: yes 😀 !

landonorris: god this is a nightmare

yourusername: not if you'd take a GOD DAMN HINT

landonorris: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

user46: yall this is a public instagram comment section

user47: don't say that, this is their argument in the rain moment

user48: lemme grab the popcorn 🍿

maxverstappen1: this better not include the real number one girlypop here

yourusername: of course not pookie

oscarpiastri: you gonna continue the lil spat above this?

yourusername: no?

oscarpiastri: well some people (max and i) would like to listen so please continue

yourusername: no, i don't think i will

oscarpiastri: GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE INSUFFERABLE

maxverstappen1: what oscar said

user49: oscar and max are so real

user50: they can't leave us on this cliff hanger

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,043,788 others

landonorris: some snaps from '23

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user51: have we just been thirst trapped?

user52: i don't think it was intended for us

user53: this has "i am hotter than carlos sainz" written all over it

yourusername: posting tits on main, brave.

landonorris: i came second in singapore.

yourusername: sureeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. modesty, ever heard of it lan?

landonorris: slutshaming isn't cute y/n

yourusername: you kinda have to pull to be a slut lan. you are under qualified for the position

landonorris: if you keep being mean to me i will call your mum or my mum.

yourusername: try it. i see cisca more than you, i have faith in her

landonorris: the line is busy. are you on the phone to MY mum right now?

yourusername: maybe.

user54: we're so close to them getting their heads out of their asses

user55: don't get my hopes up

danielricciardo: i hope this works lol

landonorris: you don't think i'm sexy?

danielricciardo: it doesn't matter what i think

landonorris: i'm not sexy :(

danielricciardo: you're baiting me but yes, you are sexy.

user56: i'll fight anyone who made this man believe he's not beautiful

liked by yourusername

user57: I SAW THAT 📸

user58: someone just lock them in a cupboard at this point

oscarpiastri: noted.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 89,034 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: yeah, yeah. you can stop yelling at us now.

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user61: LET'S FUCKING GO

user62: it was worth all that yelling. i expect an invite to the wedding now.

user63: wedding? girly they only just realised their feelings after a DECADE

maxverstappen1: it was about fucking time

yourusername: okay miss ma'am. some people are EMOTIONALLY VULNERABLE AND NOT VERY GOOD AT PROCESSING THEM

maxverstappen1: you must've been emotionally constipated because this was painful

yourusername: it was painful for me too

maxverstappen1: so painful that you dated CARLOS

yourusername: one date! ONE!

maxverstappen1: carlos said can you unblock him so he can be mean to me?

yourusername: fine.

carlossainz55: STOP MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A BAD PERSON. YES I AM NOT THE BEST AT RELATIONSHIPS BUT LEAVE ME BE

maxverstappen1: lol

yourusername: lol

user64: unblocking carlos to hit him with the lol max and y/n might be more iconic than lando and y/n

landonorris: not on our relationship announcement post 🤨

user65: OOP.

landonorris: i love you doofus

yourusername: i love you too muppet

landonorris: how much was the betting pool for your family?

yourusername: it got to over £300

landonorris: ours was £750

yourusername: are we dumb?

landonorris: no!

oscarpiastri: two dumbass girls saying 'yass' to each other

yourusername: LEAVE US BE

landonorris: oscar :(

user66: not their own families betting on when they'd get together 😭

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,430,778 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: first win, hopefully not my only one.

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user67: MY BABIES

user68: i feel like i've been on this journey with them

oscarpiastri: thank god you guys got your shit together, i was THIS close to jumping out the nearest window if i had to watch lando mope around like a kicked puppy when y/n had the lil thing with carlos

user69: so it wasn't some grand plan?

oscarpiastri: no he's just dumb enough to actually set up his first love with his best friend

landonorris: OSCAR!

oscarpiastri: am i wrong?

landonorris: no... but! i got there in the end

oscarpiastri: good thing you're faster on track

user70: the grid being just as done with them as us is killing me

maxfewtrell: finally this unnecessarily long and overly convoluted saga has come to and end, lets never do this again!

landonorris: i'm locked in for life bro no worries

yourusername: awwwwwwwwwwwwww i love you too bubs

maxfewtrell: stop being sappy under my comment

yourusername: you just complained we didn't sort out our shit fast enough and now we're too sappy?

landonorris: STICK TO A STORY BOZO

maxfewtrell: now you're even more ride or die... can we go back?

yourusername: nope!

landonorris: nope!

maxverstappen1: i for one am very happy for you both

yourusername: thank you max !!

landonorris: not so fast, he had the biggest bet on us in the paddock

yourusername: get that bag sis

landonorris: ???

yourusername: we can't fight it anymore, let them have their jokes, we actually have each other now :)

landonorris: yes we do :) xx

user71: golly gosh this is so fucking cute

fin.

note: i hope this is what you were looking for and that you all enjoyed!!

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 1/3

where you’re just trying to make it through the day, and jamie thinks you’re his girlfriend (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

AN: hello i started this blog to post all of my writings that have been piling up! this has been sitting on my laptop for awhile, and i decided to post the first part to see how things go! lmk ur thoughts! btw this is not proofread oops

word count: 6k+

You think that the highlight of your day might be tending to your garden. 

It started as a bit of a de-stressing-after-your-job hobby. At first, you found joy in coming home and taking time to water the flower beds at the front of your home, faithfully tending to them with the sole purpose of making the exterior of the house pretty for passerbyers. That soon turned into your father helping you install a window box at your bedroom window, so you can wake up to the site of blooming Zinnias. You meticulously started planting more flowers in your yard, and soon the vegetable garden (a neighborhood favorite). 

Mrs. Dunphy from two houses down was the first person who inquired on the abundance of your radishes and carrots. Never one to turn down a request, you began to give her a generous amount of the vegetables you’ve grown. And she’s just too sweet of a woman, sometimes you will pick the best of your abundance to give. 

And once word got around the street that you were giving away free, fresh vegetables, more people came running. Mr. Taylor suddenly was wondering about any spare tomatoes for the sandwiches and salads he makes when his grandkids visit. Stevie likes to snack on cucumbers, and she’s one of the very few people you know around the block your age, so of course you’re gonna chop a few when she comes over to watch shitty reality TV with you (and pack a few for her to take home, of course). 

Your garden has become something to connect you with other members of your neighborhood in Richmond, thus making it a passion project of sorts. As well as a productive pastime—that might as well be a second job. You try to keep it a secret, but you’ve begun to talk to your plants. That one tip about how talking to plants is good for their health is pretty famous, right? 

You’re quietly humming to the acoustic radio station you have playing on your speaker, meticulously chopping up onions for your soup. You like the recipe you're doing—it’s creamy and rich and you have most of the ingredients in either your cupboards, or your garden. 

It’s one of those days where you’re off work early, and just looking forward to a day to yourself. It’s not abnormal for Stevie to come ringing the doorbell whenever she sees fit, but it’s a day where you know she’s going to be gone late for work. So unless you decide to call up one of your other friends, or maybe your parents, it’s just you. And you’d like to go that way: you’ve been waiting for a bit of a self-care day. Nothing can cure your stress like warm soup, some music, and the comfort of your home. 

You open your fridge, spotting the array of tomatoes before picking one to use. Though, nearly immediately, your mind wanders off to something. Your eyes instinctually glance out your kitchen window at the house next-door, seeing it empty of the typical car. 

A new neighbor had moved in recently next-door, and usually he’d be home by now. . . Is it weird that you know that? Maybe it’s a bit creepy. But, if you’re completely honest, you’re a bit hyper-aware of this neighbor. If it isn’t his status in England, it’s his wonderful personality. And if it isn’t his wonderful personality, it is the fact that he might be one of the most beautiful and fit people that you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

You remember the first time you met Jamie. 

“You need help?”

Your shoulder jolted slightly, and you nearly dropped the soiled crate of peonies from your arms. It’s hard to startle you, mostly because you think you’re pretty hyper aware of your surroundings. You can easily spot the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Michelin, as well as their boisterous voices. 

The voice that spoke, however, did not sound like a couple in their early-60s. You hadn't even heard the footsteps. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

You angled your hip around, adjusting the crate in your hands in a way that doesn’t hurt your fingers. 

Immediately, it was easy to recognize that the man is Jamie Tartt: not only the man who had recently moved in next door, but also the known striker for Richmond’s own Premier League club. It’d be easy to mistake him for a regular guy, though, if his pajama pants and jumper couldn’t make him look any more average. His hair parts evenly down the center with concerned brows raised up to nearly the hairline. 

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, seeming to mistake your quiet observation of him as you still being scared as balls. 

You huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“That’s my fault—no need to apologize.” He waits another beat before adding, “I’m Jamie. I just moved in next door. I kinda… saw you when I just walked out. Thought to introduce myself.”

You grin. “Trying to be on everyone’s good side?”

He returned your grin, looking less tense now that you had reciprocated the conversation. “‘Never had much of a good one to begin with in neighborhoods. I’m trying to change that.”

There was a beat of silence before you said your name, feeling surprisingly awkward in this situation. You’re by no means a social butterfly, but it’s hard to startle you—especially on your own home property. Every conversation approached to you has always been reciprocated evenly by you. If Mrs. Michelin from down the street wanted to tell a story of the old diner she owned, you did your work quietly while listening, chiming in when necessary. If Stephen from down the block wanted to stop by for tea and gossip (which you’ve never been into the gossip part of it), you sip your tea nonchalantly and ask engaging questions that won’t entirely give away your true opinion on the matter: Mr. Barnaby is rude? What makes you think that? 

But for some reason, in the presence of your new neighbor, you found yourself quite speechless. Maybe it’s because Jamie is basically a celebrity. You had no doubt that he had millions of followers on every platform he ran—and the paps love him (she sees it on the news and papers). 

That’s probably why. 

“Well,” you cleared your throat, smiling. “Welcome! Everyone around here is pretty nice, but you can make those conclusions yourself when they inevitably pay you a visit.”

“Is it a tight-knit group around here?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded. “Quite. A lot of them come over sometimes to get veggies, and they seem to know about each other’s lives well.”

His smile turned into a full-grown grin. Immediately, you were desperate to know which words you said elicited that smile, so that you could say the same thing over and over again.

“You sell veggies?”

You shook your head. “I just grow them for everyone!”

In the next few minutes, you’re setting an arrangement to give Jamie a crate of carrots for his morning smoothies. You hide the giddiness you felt from the possibilities of seeing him again.

You’re placing onions into a pot on the stove, mind now away from your neighbor’s whereabouts, when your phone rings. You toss the chopped onions into the sizzling pot before picking up your phone and placing it between your ear and shoulder. 

“Hello?” you say cheerily. It’s been a decent day and you’re about to make your favorite dish, so you’re in a good mood. You balance the phone in between your ear and shoulder and you go back to tend to your uncut tomato. 

A lady on the other end—in a voice that seems quite familiar, but you’re still unsure of—says your name questioningly, in an almost frantic manner that has you furrowing your brows. 

Placing your cutting knife down, you wipe your hand on a rag before holding your phone directly to your ear for more support. “Yes?”

“Um—I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to deliver this news to you, especially since we’ve never spoken before… which surprises quite a bit…” the woman’s voice on the other line trails off, leaving you more confused. Setting your knife down, you lean a bit closer to the phone. “But, Jamie’s in the hospital. He’s hit his head.”

Jamie? Your next-door neighbor Jamie? Premier League Jamie? The one you were just thinking about? “Tartt?”

“Yes,” the woman replies, “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know why the woman is apologizing to you. Jamie’s the one who’s hit his head! It’s still confusing as to why you’re the person who received the call, but concern immediately seeps into your bones at the thought of someone so lovely not being alright. 

“No, no. I-It’s okay. Is he alright?”

“He’s got a concussion. It’s quite bad, but not horrible. I’m sure the doctor can explain what’s wrong better than I can. Do you think you can come right now? He’s been asking for you nonstop.”

You frown confusingly. “Me? Are you sure?” You and Jamie are far from strangers, and maybe more than just acquaintances. Sometimes you give the man carrots, that’s basically friend status. But you both are definitely not close enough for him to ask for you after being concussed. He should be asking for a parent, or a relative, or just anyone who is much closer than you are to him. 

The woman on the other end giggles. “I’m quite sure. He’s been yapping nonstop to see you—gave us your number and everything! I know this isn’t an ideal circumstance for his friends to meet you, but we really are a bit excited and curious to put a face to the name.”

What the hell has Jamie said about you? 

“So,” the lady says on the phone, reminding you that she’s there, “are you able to come?”

You stare at the pot boiling on your stove. 

“Send me the address.”

—

The second your eyes meet Jamie’s, his eyes soften until a smile goes over his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry…” your voice trails off, unsure of how to go about talking to him. Your body has barely entered the room in full, but the attention goes to you immediately. You feel the need to give a justified response for why your arrival has been so delayed (you didn’t even know this was happening until barely half an hour ago!). “I was cooking when I got the call, it all happened so suddenly. Are you alright?”

The smile remains on his face. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

There’s a pause in the room. All eyes seem to be on you as you stare back in shock at Jamie's words. A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone is awaiting your next response with surprised, curious eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, trying to ignore how your heart lurches at Jamie’s words. A sentence like that seems like something you would conjure up in the back of your mind during times you’d like to fantasize about Jamie. You try to push those thoughts aside, because he’s nothing more than your neighbor—possibly friend. A double meaning has to be coming from the sentence, and all you have to do is act cool so that no one will know how affected you are by this. “Am I supposed to be bringing him back to his home?”

The nurse looks down at his clipboard. “You’re his neighbor, correct? You know his address?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you should be fit to bring him home. Unless, you think it’ll be more reliable for someone else to? I know all of this must be stressful.”

You quickly shake your head. “Not stressful at all. I’m just trying to grasp why I was called here.” Surely Jamie had a family member to ring up, or even one of the people currently in the room, who seem to care about him very much. You walk closer to Jamie’s bedside to see if there are any damages to his face that you might’ve not been able to see from afar. Your heart beats at a less-rapid pace when you see that physically, he looks fine. He catches your eye with a smile as you look down at him.

Ted Lasso speaks up. You never thought you’d see him in the flesh, just a person on your television that you see when you eat dinner alone. “Well, Jamie here has been hassling us to see his lady since he’s been up. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name! ‘Been a long hour of wonderin’.”

Before you can even retort, like how you didn’t even know Jamie had a girlfriend (like why would you be here if Jamie wants to see his girlfriend—your heart sinks lightly at the thought, but it seems all too selfish to care about that when Jamie’s in a worrying predicament), the blonde girl speaks up.

“You know, I will say that I was mad hurt when I found out Jamie has a girlfriend and didn’t even tell us.”

Yeah, you think. He didn’t tell you, either. 

A tall man grunts from beside her. “How long have you lot been going out, anyway?”

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide. 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the room, “For Christ’s fucking sake, can you all stop bombarding her with questions?” He reaches out a small distance to grab your hand and pull you closer to his bedside, your hip now resting against the bed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Your mind freezes. You look down at your joint hands, then back to his face. 

Surely this has to be some mistake. Jamie is telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not; if this is some sort of bit he wants to play on the very many people in this room that care about his well being. The only time you’ve gotten even close to touching Jamie was whenever his fingers would brush against yours to pick up a crate of carrots. You don’t even know what the inside of his house looks like! There are many facts about him that—though, you would like to know—you don’t know at all. And now he’s gone and told everybody that you’re dating!

The only thing you do know, is that you and Jamie have now got five pairs of eyes on you. 

And they all think that you’re in a relationship. 

“Jamie…” you say, tip-toeing through your next words to make sure you don’t say something that will put him into shock. “How hard did you hit your head?” His hand remains firmly in your own. 

He pouts, turning to a man who’s sitting on a chair in the corner. He’s pouting guiltily, still in his Richmond kit with dirt on his knee pads. 

“Pretty fucking hard,” the man mumbles. His fingers are fidgeting, and you recognize him as Richmond’s captain—Isaac. 

The nurse standing by you nods. “Essentially,” he says, shrugging. 

“Like—extremely hard?”

The nurse sighs. “I’m surprised it’s just a concussion. But nothing seems to be truly wrong; the X-rays would’ve shown.”

(Clearly something more than a concussion must have happened for Jamie to believe that you’re his girlfriend!) 

“Are there any medications, protocol that we should be aware of, Nurse?” Ted chimes in, leaning closer to the center of the room. 

“Recommended actions will be included in his discharge papers. I would say wait a day or two before taking any pain medication. Avoid bright lights, like the telly or your phone. I suggest wearing sunglasses outdoors—though I don’t think that’d be any different than usual. Other than that, I think you will heal just fine. But until then, it looks like your girlfriend has to be your nurse for a bit.”

You choke up again at the mention of that term, a dry cough riding up your throat. Eyes snap towards you, concern immediately filling each iris. 

“Love,” says Jamie, voice in clear pain over his misinterpretation of your emotions. “I’m going to be okay. I always get better. You know that.”

No, you wanted to say, I don’t know that. You wanted to close your eyes and count to ten—meditate maybe, and think of your next moves. You wanted to be back home, stirring broth in a pot instead of getting tangled up in a fiasco that you’re ill-equipped for. 

Unfortunately, none of those are an option for you. And, as you look at Jamie in his hospital gown, your heart constricts. Something plucks a small melody on your heartstrings as you stare into his glazed and hopeful eyes. Hopeful for you. 

You try to give your best smile. One that says, it’s going to be okay. If you worry, it’s clear Jamie will worry. It’s obvious by his expression that his sole focus at the moment is you. 

You’re not sure how convincing the smile is. You feel like a fraud, pretending to be something for Jamie that you’re clearly not. You’re far from being his girlfriend, or even someone Jamie could fancy if his head hadn’t been so fucked up. 

But maybe, though, the smile is convincing enough: his face is elated at your positive acknowledgement towards him. 

“Fucking gross.”

Your body snaps around, yet again acutely aware of the presence of multiple bodies around you, all looking at you and Jamie the same: confusion mixed with wonder (or disgust). It’s clear, though, that the voice had come from Roy Kent himself. 

(He’s known for these things, you guess.)

Frowning, you turn back to Jamie. 

“Oi,” snaps Jamie, eyes shifting gloweringly to Roy. “She hasn’t got a clue of your attitude yet. Pipe down.”

Not wanting to upset Roy Kent, you shake your head vigorously. “Don't even worry. I’m just a little caught off guard at the moment.” You clear your throat, “Um… do you suppose I can speak to the doctor quickly?”

“Doctor!” says Ted loud and eccentrically, no doubt in hopes that his obnoxious manner would lighten the mood. “Let her see the doctor!” 

“Get the fucking doctor here!” says Keeley to the nurse, who merely sputters in return. 

“I-I’ll fetch her right now.”

It only takes a minute for a woman to peek her head through the door. “I heard I am needed.”

Roy groans, and she smirks at him like they both know something that not many get.

“Jamie’s lovely lady wants to have a word with you,” says Ted with a grin when you take a beat too long to reply for yourself.

She turns her head to you, and you nod. 

“Yes,” you say. Prying your hand gently from Jamie’s, you follow the doctor. “I’ll be back,” you add softly.

Once the door is closed behind you two, a large and panicked breath releases from your lips. You finally get to feel how clammy your hands have gotten. “Listen, Doctor…” you look at her quizzically.

“—Doctor O’Sullivan,” she says. 

“O’Sullivan. Thank you.: You breathe in. “I’m not very sure how to say this, but I’m really fucking confused at the moment. Kind of freaking out confused.”

The woman in front of you doesn’t hesitate to place a comforting hand on your elbow. “Is everything alright? Roy had said you were Jamie’s girlfriend; I know how hard this could be on—“

“--That’s the problem!” you can’t help but interrupt, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. I’m just his neighbor! I’m not sure how him banging his head led me to believe otherwise, but—but I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor stares back at you, mouth agape. 

“Yeah,” you sympathize, nodding your head. “I know.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Um,” she begins, “out of all things you could’ve said… I wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth.”

You nod frantically, your voice going down to a worried whisper. “Is his head—like—okay? I’m worried that if he’s remembering stuff that isn’t true, then something may be very wrong with his brain, or whatever part he hit.”

Dr. O’Sullivan sighs, looking down at her clipboard before jotting something down. “Memory loss… things like that tend to happen with the concussion he has. I would be far more concerned if the X-rays showed any trauma, but he truly does seem to be fine. My guess is his memory will come back—maybe slowly, but it will certainly recollect.”

“But do I tell him now?” you ask, in a minor panic. If someone this morning had told you that your neighbor (the one you have been minorly crushing on, mind you) would suffer from a concussion that rendered him thinking you two are in an established relationship… well, you probably wouldn’t know what to say in that situation. But this certainly hadn’t even been in your mind for unexpected things that could possibly happen. 

“My recommendation right now would be no; don’t startle him. His concussion has only just occurred, and it’s best not to confuse him even more. The first and most important goal is to get him back home to rest. Just check in on your comfortability as you go through this, okay? I’ll give you my personal cell, in case you have any dire questions.” She writes down her number on a piece of paper before ripping it off and handing it to you. 

You neatly tuck it into your pocket, nervously smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies with a more assured smile compared to yours. She rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “I mean it when I say reach out. This will be difficult to navigate.”

You nod, giving her one last look before you re-enter the room apprehensively. It’s quiet when the door creeks and all eyes are on you, as if wanting to observe your next move. In the array of eyes, Jamie is looking at you with an expectant look, a large smile on his lips as you fidget with the rings on your finger awkwardly. You want to run out of the room, but you remember Dr. O’Sullivan’s words: Don't startle him. 

“Jamie,” your voice is hoarse. The entire group leans a little closer at the sound of your voice, awaiting your next words. You clear your throat. “I’m very worried about you.”

His smile dims. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I should’ve been more careful.”

Everyone else in shock by his quick admission to his wrongdoings, Isaac stands up suddenly. “It’s my fault, bruv. Your girl should be mad at me.” He bows his head ashamedly. “I’m so sorry.” 

You frown, shaking. “I think everyone in the room can agree that none of this is intentional.” You look around the room for confirmation. “Right?” 

“Jamie’s lady is right!” says Ted. And then, “—wait, does me referring to you at Jamie’s lady dehumanize you? I apologize on my behalf. You are your own woman!”

That manages a small laugh from you. It’s clear Ted’s good-naturedness isn’t just a personality created in the papers. “I’m feeling perfectly humanized, thank you. I don’t blame anyone, I’m just glad you’re okay, Jamie. But I’m very worried. You don’t … seem the best.” You think that we are dating, when all I do is give you fresh veggies. “I want you to get better.” I want you to get your own memories back, because this fabrication in your head is extremely, medically concerning. “But it could be worse!” you add at the end. You could’ve forgotten your own identity, so there’s that! 

The room is silent. 

“I don’t know about y’all,” begins Ted. “But I’m lovin’ the element of concern with added positivity! You’re right, it could’ve been worse! Jamie could be dead.”

“Too much, Ted,” says Rebecca softly. 

Roy grunts. “I thought that was a wonderful, brief visual.”

Jamie’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, man?” 

The older man grunts, angrier. “I said brief.” 

You can’t tell if his comments are a joke or not.

Jamie, appearing to sense your uncomfortableness, is quick to reply, “Oi! What did I say about her not knowing your fucking attitude?”

“It’s okay!” you squeak, not wanting to create more problems in the room. “Let’s focus on getting you home first.” Don't startle him. You need to ease Jamie into any shocks that he might face. You don’t know if there’s anything else Jamie might have misconstrued due to his concussion. For all you know, the poor guy might forget another giant aspect of his life. He needs to rest. “Did you lot by chance take his car here?” 

Keeley nods quickly. “I drove it from the stadium. It’s parked out front.”

“Perfect,” you say, turning back to the man of the hour. “Jamie, is it okay if she drives it back to yours?”

“As long as I get to ride with you.”

Your heart rate strikes at his reply. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. “Good with me. Let’s get you home.”

The arrangement to take him home is simple enough, maybe even the easiest thing you have had to face since arriving. Jamie had already signed his discharge papers, and was free to walk on his own. He manages to look normal enough, but it’s a unanimous agreement for him to not drive on his own. Keeley is off to drive Jamie’s car back to his place, already knowing his new address. He bids goodbye to the rest of the group, and they offer their own forms of condolences (Roy’s is just a grunt).

“It’s a pleasure meeting you!” says Ted. “You’re gonna have to stop by Nelson Road sometime. You know, introduce you to the rest of the team.”

You fight a frown, because you shouldn’t. You probably won’t. But, hating to be rude to Ted, you reciprocate his hospitality with a warm smile. “I appreciate that. It was wonderful to meet everyone, even in these circumstances. I’m glad that Jamie is in the right hands.”

Ted nods solemnly. “Always. Now, go take care of that son of a gun!”

—

“Don't ever think I’ve ever been in your car before,” mumbles Jamie sadly. You’ve never been in my car. Or my home. Nor have I ever been to yours. 

You fight the thoughts running through your head, about to comment on his dejectedness, when you remember what Dr. O’Sullivan had said about Jamie avoiding sunlight. “Wait!” You open your glove compartment, shuffling through the various coins and junk inside until you find what you’ve been looking for. 

The sunglasses may not be what Jamie prefers. They belong to your younger cousin, Jolie. Sometimes you’re tasked with picking her up from school when your aunts can’t. Along with the task of picking her up and babysitting the six-year-old for a few hours, you often find things that she had left behind, or forgotten. You keep the hot pink cat-eye sunglasses for whenever she’s in your car and wants to put them on (they make her feel older). They may be a little small on Jamie, but you don’t care. His concussion is going to be treated attentively on your watch, whether he is okay with that or not. It’s the least you feel that you can do, considering roleplaying as his girlfriend isn’t exactly ideal. 

“Here you are!” you happily exclaim, unfolding the sunglasses, putting them on by yourself before he can get a chance to protest. 

The thing is, you truly don’t know what Jamie is like. You’ve had multiple interactions, but all so surface-level that it’s hard to tell if it’s a front he’s put up or not. For all you know—and for what you expect—he’ll take the sunglasses off and question why he has to wear that pair (toxic masculinity, and all that bullshit that you’re accustomed to from men). 

To your surprise, he doesn’t even make a move to adjust them. Instead, he moves the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. You giggle lightly as he moves his face around to observe his look. 

The sound makes him smile. “I look good. These mine now?”

You scoff. “They’re Jolie's, don't even think about it,” you reply starkly, not even thinking about the fact that he doesn’t know who Jolie is. 

For Jamie, however, that appears to be the first thing he thinks about. Because there’s a moment-long pause, and it feels very thick, before he replies, “Jolie?”

“Oh—my cousin,” you say plainly. You begin to pull out of your spot, checking your side mirror to see if any cars are coming by. 

You might’ve been driving for a minute, silently. You aren’t sure what to say because, again, this is not the type of interaction with Jamie that you’re used to. Besides, you figure that maybe the silence will be good since Jamie has spent god-knows how long in absolute worry and chaos. Your mind goes back to the soup on your stove. You had turned the heat off, and placed the lid on your pot to finish when you get home.

Jamie is the first to break the silence. He says your name slowly, almost embarrassingly. 

You furrow your brows at his tone, giving him a quick glance before laying your eyes back on the road. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Am I—“ he clears his throat, “Am I supposed to know about Jolie? Have we spoken about her before? I just don’t remember anything about her.”

You’re in shock for a moment, not expecting that question to come from him. 

You realize, at this moment, the weight of Jamie’s concussion. Not only is it going to be physically taxing for him to avoid doing certain things until he’s better, but the mental toll of feeling like he doesn’t remember things will also certainly pain him. He thinks that the two of you are together—meaning he expects himself to know aspects about your life that you two had never discussed before. 

Not only is Jamie a blank slate to you, but you are to him. 

The only problem is he thinks that the blank slate is wrong. 

“I’ve never spoken of her before, Jamie,” you say softly. 

You hear him exhale. 

“You don’t need to worry about forgetting, okay?” you add. “If I’m very concerned by anything you don’t seem to remember, I’ll be sure to tell you. And I’m sure everyone at work will do the same, as well.” You take a left turn, following the GPS on your phone back to your neighborhood. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. Patiently.”

A less-tense silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive. Jamie has his head leaning against the passenger window. You don’t need to see under the glasses to know that his eyes are shut, likely to gain as much rest as possible. 

When you finally arrive back at your neighboring homes, Keeley is already sitting on the steps that lead to Jamie’s door, his car parked perfectly in his usual spot.

After parking as close to Jamie's home as possible (you’ll fix your spot later), you move to open his passenger door, but he gets out by himself. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you off the edge of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Keeley smiles softly at the pair in front of her, extending her hands to give you Jamie’s set of keys. “Hey, guys!”

You smile back, quietly using the keys she just handed you to unlock Jamie’s front door while the two converse behind you on his current state. She worriedly asks him how his head feels, to which Jamie gives a very detailed explanation on how it feels like a giant is squeezing around his head with a pressure that can pop his brains out. 

“Gross,” mumbles Keeley. “Please go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jamie, “that’s what everyone’s telling me. Thanks for bringing me car, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. My payment requirement is—sorry to jam it—get some fucking rest.” She stands by the doorway as you and Jamie enter his house. “Roy’s a couple of minutes away. I’m gonna wait out here and contemplate stealing those peonies from that house down there.”

You pause. “… That’s my place.”

“Oh shit! My bad, babe. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything.”

You laugh. “Please, go ahead if you would like. I’ve been told it’s practically a forest.”

She laughs. “Maybe next time. Stay safe, yeah?” She’s walking down the steps as you both bid her a goodbye.

You smile up at Jamie as he guides you further down his hallway, and into the kitchen. He immediately goes into his fridge to pull out some water, chugging it down.

You stand in your spot awkwardly, watching as Jamie pulls the sunglasses further up when his head finally levels from drinking. “...Um, if you don’t need anything else, do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” you ask. You feel better now that Jamie is in the comfort of his own home. “I had food on the stove, and wanted to finish it up. I’ll have a bowl for you as well, if you’d like.” You already make a plan in your head to put it in an isolated thermos to leave on his doorstep so that he can still access it and have his alone time.

“But you’ll be back, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the thing he’s most sure of. 

You smile. “Then I’ll be back,” you reply, mind scrapping the doorstep plan. “With creamy vegetable soup.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says. He closes the fridge and makes his way to you. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting… maybe a hug at most. 

But your eyes shoot up as Jamie leans down, his lips puckering slightly as his face inches closer to yours. 

You instinctively place your hand on his chest, quickly stopping him from going any further. “Woah, wait.”

Jamie pulls back further immediately, his brows furrowing from above the pink sunglasses he wears. If this were any other situation, you’d find his look comical.

“What’s wrong, love?” he says so sweetly that you may feel sick, if the nickname isn’t enough to nearly make you faint. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly. 

You try your best to conjure up words for this situation, as well as trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the soft ministrations on your shoulder. “It’s just—we’re moving too fast. You’re moving too fast.”

“Huh?” replies Jamie quizzically, “Do we not… kiss?” When your eyes hold more panic, he makes the conclusion for himself. “So, we’re dating and we’ve never kissed? Am I a fucking idiot?” The last part is mostly to himself, and you backtrack immediately, rewiring your brain into thinking of a half decent explanation. 

“I mean… I don’t know. I just feel bad,” you say. “You have a concussion and don’t remember some things. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and make you do things that you might regret.”

Jamie frowns. “Why would I regret kissing you?” 

You wince, making the edges of his lips turn down even more. 

He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...Would it make you uncomfortable? If I kissed you?”

“It—“ you think about it for a moment. You don’t think kissing Jamie would make you uncomfortable at all. It is something you fantasize about, but only when you’re alone. And not under these circumstances. So, you reply truthfully, “I think it would,” because you just can’t find it in you to physically reciprocate affection that was never properly established in the first place. 

“Is it because I don’t remember our first kiss?”

There never was one. “… Yeah.”

Jamie looks off before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do everything in my power to remember,” he says surely.

Well, shit. It’s going to be very hard for Jamie to try and remember something that never even happened. You wonder now if you should just alleviate the guilt right now, and break the truth to him: you have never dated, nor even kissed once. Maybe the interactions you’ve had with him when handing over a batch of carrots seemed delusionally romantic in your mind, that’s not how it went at all. 

There’s a feeling in you that makes you want to take care of Jamie and make sure that he’s okay. The thought of abandoning him now feels almost cruel, he clearly trusts you enough to keep you around. 

Normally, this would be no issue. 

But with what you know, a heavy weight fills your chest.

[saturnznct]

how he acts when you're pregnant | enhypen x reader

➸ request from anon; heyy, I’m so happy you’re back! You’re fics were always my go-to if I wanted to read anything dad/pregnancy related, loved them all! can you please write about how enhypen would treat you during pregnancy, like their protectiveness, taking care of the reader, or when she’s having complications etc. 🤍

➸ note; hehe me too thank you so much!! that makes me so happy!! i don't love some of these but I hope they're what you wanted <3

➸ word count; 2335 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun, seren; in the womb lol

➸ warning(s); mentions of vomiting, implied sexy time, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, mentions of possible birth complications

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

Heeseung can’t take his hands off you.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re newlyweds, or if it’s because you’re pregnant, but he can’t stay away.

At least one hand is always somewhere on you, on your shoulder, around your waist, on your thigh or knee. 

At night, it doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of summer, his arm is snaked around you and his head is buried in the back of your neck.

Once you reach your second trimester, and your bump becomes noticeable, Heeseung is always touching your bump, tapping it absentmindedly with his fingers, beaming from ear to ear when eventually he can feel your baby boy squirming underneath his touch.

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night to the push of feet against his palms, it made him smile every time.

Heeseung is also completely whipped for you, he’ll do anything you ask. 

Your cravings get intense, and he doesn’t complain when you wake him at three in the morning whining about salted popcorn with cheese on. And he goes to the store for you, every time.

Heeseung isn’t usually very sappy, but as soon as your bump pops up he’s the most sentimental soppy man in the world.

Every morning and night he talks to your bump about anything and everything. Even during the day he will randomly address the bump asking it questions.

‘Okay, little one,’ Heeseung sinks to his knees one morning, resting a hand on either side of your bump, ‘kick once for cornflakes. Kick twice for the chocolate cereal.’

You giggle, ‘you’re an idiot.’

‘I’m indecisive. This boy needs to pull his weight and help me. He’s already living here rent free for the next however long.’

You roll your eyes, going back to your own breakfast.

‘What do you think baby boy?’ Heeseung gently pokes at your bump attempting to illicit a response.

Eventually your son delivers a single kick, causing you to choke on your coffee. 

‘Unlucky,’ you laugh at his disappointed face, ‘cornflakes it is.’

‘I will evict him as soon as physically possible. How can he disrespect me like this in my own house.’

‘Can’t wait until he’s actually here,’ you murmur.

‘Me too,’ Heeseung kisses your bump before getting up to kiss your head and reach for the cornflakes.

jay

Jay isn’t too overbearing during your pregnancy. He’s not the type to constantly ask if you need anything, he will wait for you to ask him.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t anticipate your needs, you’ll come home from a late shift to find your pregnancy pillow already set up, your cravings are always fully stocked and there’s always plenty of bubble bath.

Where he does get somewhat intense is in public.

Jay constantly worries about harm coming to either of you. When you go shopping, he’s careful not to be recognised, wearing hats and glasses as to not to draw attention to you. In airports, his arm is always around you, guiding you around. 

So, when he’s on tour during your pregnancy and you come to visit, he’s on high alert.

‘Jay, I can walk around the venue by myself,’ you’re escorted into the dressing room by a security guard.

Jay pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head, ‘there’s lots of equipment around baby, what if you hurt yourself?’

You roll your eyes, ‘have I ever hurt myself backstage before?’

‘Let me look after you,’ he pecks your lips, ‘anyway, it’s soundcheck soon. There’s a nice chair set up for you beside the stage for the actual show as well-‘

‘Wait, I’m going to watch from backstage?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Jay says, ‘going out there can’t be good for you, or the baby-‘

‘But you know I love being in the audience,’ you pout, ‘Jay, I want to be out there singing along with my lightstick just like everyone else.’

Jay tilts his head, ‘I don’t know, sweetheart, you’re so far along and the fans can be so intense…’

‘I’ll be in the stands with your managers, I’ll have so much space!’

‘I just have visions of you falling over or someone bumping into you..’

‘Please, baby,’ you pull out the puppy eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, and you quickly see him crumble.

‘Fine, but minimal dancing,’ he taps your nose, ‘and a security guard.’

Just then, a stage runner knocks on the door, letting Jay know he’s needed for soundcheck.

‘Come on, I’ll take you to your seat.’ 

‘Jay!’

jake

When you first found out you were pregnant, Jake sort of panics a little bit.

You’re hunched over the toilet and throwing up he doesn’t really know what to do. This is completely new territory for him. Your early symptoms often have him incredibly flustered, you’re emotional, your boobs hurt and you’re constantly dizzy.

One night, Jake comes home from practice, and it’s like his instincts awaken when he sees you in the bathroom, on the floor sobbing.

‘Jake,’ you cry when you see him, and he’s instantly at your side on the tiles, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Jake takes you into his arms, letting you cry into his shoulder.

‘I know I haven’t been the most.. helpful,’ he murmurs, ‘but I know you, and you are so strong, and you can do this. And I will do everything and anything you need from me, okay?’

From then on, Jake is the most attentive boyfriend, and is very touchy. You don’t even have to ask, and he’s giving you a foot massage. You come home from work, and there’s already a bath run for you at the perfect temperature.

Once you’re four months in, your bump becomes noticeable, and Jake’s level of affection is just exacerbated. 

Every night he rubs your lotion on your bump, tells the bump about his day, and sleeping with his hand on it.

When you’re hormonal, he holds you.

‘Everything hurts, Jake,’ you sob, ‘all day. She’s been sitting on my spine all day, and I’ve been having braxtons, and my boobs hurt and they’re leaking, I tried to nap but I just couldn’t-‘

Jake from month one in your pregnancy would’ve freaked out at your outburst, but this Jake, in month seven, is calm and collected.

He runs you a bath, filling it with lavender bubbles. On your insistence, he gets in behind you, rubbing your back, shoulders and achy breasts.

’Is that better?’ Jake murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine and stirring up your hormones.

‘Much,’ you roll your head back against his shoulder, ‘you’re the best.’

He kisses your head, ‘how about we get out and go lay down?’

‘We can get out,’ you nod, ‘but can we do more than lay down?’

Jake grins cheekily, ‘incredible idea.’

sunghoon

For your whole pregnancy, Sunghoon is just filled with pride. He shows ultrasound photos to everyone and talks nonstop about your incoming baby girl to anyone that will listen.

Sunghoon becomes a bit of a pregnancy expert. Every book he can get his hands on, he reads cover to cover. He knows what to expect, what was abnormal and everything in-between. 

So Sunghoon did notice just how much you were needing to go to the bathroom. 

It was relentless. He would wake up several times a night to you wriggling out of his arms and padding into your ensuite. During the day, you’re constantly up and down needing to pee, when you’re driving you have Sunghoon pull into service stations constantly. 

He brings it up to your doctor at the next scan. Your doctor agrees that the rate of your bathroom trips are a little out of the ordinary, so he refers you for blood tests. 

‘Gestational diabetes,’ you read the words on the leaflet, slumped in the passenger seat of your car.

‘Y/N..’

‘This is my fault.’

‘Y/N, you heard the doctor. Sometimes these things just happen,’ Sunghoon rests a hand on your arm.

‘What if something happens to her because of this? I know he said that the risks were small, but what if?’ you begin to tear up.

’She was perfect on the scan the other day, remember? I’m going to help you through this. We’re going to get through this.’

Sunghoon stayed up all night that night reading article after article about gestational diabetes. You woke up the next morning to find a full google doc with meal plans, exercise routines and a schedule to check your blood sugars.

He happily did everything with you, eating the same meals and cutting down on sugar. 

On an evening, the two of you would go down to the pool in your apartment complex for a swim. You would slowly swim around while chatting, usually about the baby or work. 

‘You’ve made this so much easier for me,’ you stand over your daughter’s empty crib, damp hair occasionally dripping onto your bump, ‘thank you.’

‘It’s what I’m supposed to do,’ Sunghoon gently turns you around by your waist and kisses your nose, ‘as your husband and her father.’

‘We love you, Hoon.’

‘I love you too.’

sunoo

Sunoo feels totally out of his depth. 

Suddenly his fiancee is pregnant, something you never expected. He doesn’t know the first thing about pregnancy, and doesn’t know how to respond to your symptoms. He sort of just treats you as if you’re sick, bringing you soup and tea but keeping his distance. At the same time, you’re hormonal, and can’t understand why he’s staying away.

You worry he doesn’t want the baby, that he’s having second thoughts, or you’re bothering him too much with your requests. In reality, Sunoo is just so worried that he’s not being helpful, or that somehow he might hurt or upset you.

One night you’re laying in bed together watching TV in silence, you essentially lose it.

’Sunoo,’ you’re tearing up, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ he whips his head around to look at you, ‘for what?’

‘You’re just distant, and you keep away from me, I barely see you. If it’s me or the baby I would rather you just tell me-’

’No- no, that’s not it at all. I want you and the baby more than anything in the world.’

Sunoo is quiet for a few moments, ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just scared. I’ve been retreating into my head and haven’t been there for you like I should be.’

‘Sunoo, we need to talk to each other. I need to know how you feel. If we’re going to be parents, we need to be a team, we need to be in sync.’

‘I know, you’re right. I promise going forward I’ll be more open with you about how I feel.’

From then on, he’s obsessed with all things pregnancy and baby.

Every few days you’ll come home to a package addressed to you that you didn’t order, containing a weird pregnancy product that he saw on TikTok.

You and Sunoo talk constantly. You chat late at night in bed, in the morning on your balcony as the sun comes up, in the car on an evening, all about your excitement and fears surrounding the baby. 

Sunoo also becomes somewhat clingy, especially at night or when you’re in crowds. While before you were pregnant he would usually just throw an arm around you, now he sleeps completely pressed against you, his chest to your back.

‘I love you,’ he mumbles into your neck one night, ‘thank you for giving me my dream.’

jungwon

Your pregnancy with Serin is very turbulent. 

For the first half, everything is fairly smooth.

You get sick, and Jungwon holds your hair back. You have mood swings, he tries his best to be empathetic. 

Jungwon knows enough to understand that these things are par for the course, so he’s supportive but not too concerned about your symptoms. 

You were around halfway through your pregnancy when the less than normal symptoms began.

Jungwon would come home from practice to you sitting in a completely dark room. 

‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’

Your head was in your hands, unable to be lifted.

‘I have the worst migraine I think I have ever had,’ you whine, ‘I have taken as much paracetamol as I am allowed. I had a bath in the dark, put a cold cloth on my forehead. Wonnie it’s so bad, I can barely see..’

Jungwon holds you, massaging your head until you fall asleep hours later. 

When the headaches and vision problems persist, you make an emergency appointment. 

‘Bed,’ Jungwon practically pushes you up the stairs when you get home, supervising and making sure you were changing into comfortable clothes and getting under the covers. 

Your intense headaches turn out to be preeclampsia. Although at the moment Serin was measuring well, the doctor had warned you of the potential complications, including preterm labour or low birth weight. 

You’d been ordered to take strict bed rest. 

For the remainder of your pregnancy, Jungwon waits on you hand and foot. 

He’s suddenly fussing over you, messing with your pillows and cushions. He brings up your food on trays, eating every meal beside you. The two of you tear through countless shows on a plethora of streaming services. He holds you when you cry in frustration. He holds your hand when the doctor visits every week.  

‘Baby, it’s ready,’ Jungwon enters your bedroom, approaching the bed.

‘Really?’ you warm with excitement at the prospect of getting out of bed, ‘can I see?’

Jungwon helps you get up, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. 

He leads you down the corridor and into your daughters nursery, which he, Jay and Heeseung had spent all day decorating.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ hot tears spring to your eyes, ‘you guys.. It’s exactly how I imagined.’

‘She’ll be in there so soon,’ Jungwon lays a hand on the rail of the crib, ‘and no matter what happens, she’ll be fine.’

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

⚡︎ . 🫐 DESPERATE TO SAVE ?!

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 paring : God of war Mydei x chieftain fem!reader

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 warnings : nsfw/smut, slight dubcon, dark content?, size kink?, virgin reader, pet names, fingering, possessive-ish Mydei, nipple teasing, vaginal, fingering, kissing, marking?, biting/nibbling, big d!ck Mydei, holding orgasm. & other stuff!!

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 summary : When the plague ravaged your village, you sought out Mydei, the god of war. He promised you to save your people, but only if you have s*x with him and become his wife. With no other option, you agreed. GOD OF WAR MYDEI SERIES.

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 Extra : I forced myself to write this even if I wasn’t feeling like it, I needed to write this. ( ⸝⸝ ◡̀ ᴗ ◡́)੭ ✧ The plot where “you become his wife, and he’s some god.” is from a book I read when I was 16. I forgot what it was called. If you know the name PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME. I LOVED THAT BOOK SO MUCH. I need to re-read it.

The village was on the brink of destruction. A deadly plague had swept through, leaving the sick to suffer and the healthy too terrified to help. Families were falling apart, their homes empty as people either fled or waited for the inevitable. The once thriving village now felt like a ghost town, and as the leader, you could do nothing but watch as your people slowly withered away.

You had tried everything, sending for healers, offering prayers to the gods, even calling for help from nearby villages. But the disease spread too fast, and nothing seemed to stop it. The helplessness was suffocating, and you felt the weight of failure pressing down on you with every passing day. You had to do something, anything, to save them.

In your desperation, you remembered the old stories about Mydei, the god of war, who had the power to end any battle or sickness. They said he could bring destruction, but also renewal. You knew finding him was risky, but you had nothing left to lose. So, you set out, hoping he would listen and end the plague before it claimed your last breath.

“P-Please my Lord! Oh please save my village!” You begged the god of ear named Mydei, to save your village that was suffering from the plague. You kneeled down in-front of him, while Mydei was sitting on his throne.

He looked down at the trembling figure before him, your words hanging in the air like the heavy scent of fear and desperation. Ah... the price of salvation, dear one. So high, yet so reasonable, don't you think? His gaze lingered on her bowed head as a sly smirk curled his lips. “If your village's fate rests upon your accepting, then be certain, I will indeed bestow my patronage... but in exchange, you must surrender your virginity to me. Become my bride in the carnal sense, so that I might take your innocence and in its place, deliver your people from this plague's grasp.”

He reached out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his stern yet alluring countenance. “Can you find it in your heart to meet my terms, my dear? Will you be mine, body and soul, for the salvation of your kin?” A mischievous glint danced in his eyes, awaiting your response to seal their fates together... for better or worse.

Your eyes widened at his words, you bit down your bottom lip and looked up at him in a confused and frightened face expression. But you know you had no choice but to accept. “I accept my Lord.” You said in a smooth tone, trying to look confident.

He chuckled darkly, finding your hesitation amusing. But your eventual acceptance seemed to delight him immensely, his grip on your chin tightening possessively as his other hand went to card through your hair, savoring the soft texture. "Excellent choice, my dear. You've made the right decision," he purred, leaning in close, his hot breath ghosting across your cheek and lips before he nipped at your earlobe. "And do not worry," he whispered conspiratorially, "I shall ensure you've countless children with which to populate your village once our ritual is complete." With that promise, he stood, pulling you up with him, and guided you through the labyrinthine halls of the divine palace.

They arrived at a grand bedchamber, the air heavy with incense and the unmistakable scent of anticipation. Mydei turned to you, his eyes glinting with barely contained lust. "Now, my soon-to-be wife, let us not dally further. I grow impatient for the privilege of deflowering you myself." He began to disrobe, his muscles rippling beneath his taut skin as he shed his divine garb, leaving himself tantalizingly bare.

“M-My Lord…just please hurry up and do it now. I really, really need to save my people now…” you pleaded, your fingers digging against your long dress.

His intense gaze intensified as he watched you squirm with growing anxiety, a wicked grin spreading across his chiseled features. He could sense the desperation coursing through you, and it only seemed to fuel his own ardent desire. "Patience, my love," he crooned, his voice a deep, seductive rumble. "Your people's salvation will arrive all too soon... once I've claimed what's rightfully mine."

With that, he closed the last bit of distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved past your parted lips, tangling with yours in a heated dance as he backed you towards the lavish bed. You could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against yours, the evidence of his arousal a throbbing pressure at your lower belly.

He broke the kiss to trail scorching lips and teeth along your jawline, down to the tender skin of your throat. "Mmm, such sweet urgency," he murmured against your pulse point. "I'll indulge you... but on my terms, my dear bride." With a swift motion, he pinned you to the mattress, his weight a heavy warmth on your smaller frame as his powerful thighs nudged your legs apart.

You squeaked out loud, as blush formed on your cheeks. “U-Uh! Wait! I don’t think I’m ready!” You raised your hands and shook them, as you gave him and akward grin.

An impatient growl rumbled from Mydei's chest as he glared at your feeble protests, his blue eyes flashing with annoyance. Though his divine form was magnificent, there was nothing remotely gentle about his demeanor at present. "By the gods, woman!" he snapped, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. "

You're wasting valuable time. Every moment you stall, your people fall increasingly ill under that accursed plague." A muscular thigh pressed insistently between yours, the obvious intent behind it clear. His heavy arousal ground against your hip, an insistent reminder of the pleasure awaiting you. "So I advise you to cease your dilly-dallying at once. Embrace me fully, body and soul, and together we'll conquer this trial." He leaned in once more, his lips hovering mere inches from yours as he waited for the submission he craved to manifest.

“Fine! Alright! Just be gentle! Promise?” You stated, while still had that awkward grin on your lips.

A low, approving hum rumbled through his chest, the vibrations tickling your skin where he held your wrists. But it was the flash of his fanged grin that truly showcased his mirth at your capitulation. "Oh, I promise you, my sweet little bride," he whispered with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "gentleness is not my forte... but I shall indulge in your delicacy, for now."

With that warning, he sealed his lips to yours, claiming your innocence with a possessive hunger. His free hand slid down to grasp the gentle curve of your bottom, applying a bit of pressure to arch your back and open yourself to him as he explored your mouth with a skillful tongue.

His exploration continued unabated, each stroke of his tongue against yours evoking a pleasant heat that spread throughout your limbs. Breaking the kiss, he nipped at your bottom lip before whispering against your skin, "Ready, my love? For it's now or never if we're to sate your people's plight." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a deep breath, you nodded, steeling yourself for the impending rite that would seal your vow to him.

Mydei's eyes blazed with triumph as he proceeded to shed what remains of his divine attire, revealing an altogether formidable and awe-inspiring male form. Positioning himself between your thighs with deliberate care, he gripped your hips and guided you to the edge of the bed. Pressing your lower back, he urged you onto your elbows and knees, presenting your most intimate recesses to his avid gaze. You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, equal parts embarrassment and trepidation at the intimate knowledge he so clearly desired. "So beautiful," he crooned, his voice a low, reverberant thrum in your chest, "so ready to be made mine."

“P-Please strech me out first…” you announced to him, your thighs quivering from both excitement and fear.

His golden eyes, normally bland with a warlord's intensity, softened ever so slightly at your request. A benevolent gesture for a being not known for his gentle nature. "Of course, my darling," he murmured, placing a reassuring hand on your lower back. "I shall stretch your passage to accept my girth, easing your debut into womanhood."

With those reassurances, he leaned forward, his broad chest pressing against your spine as his free hand guided two fingers into the delicate flesh between your thighs, seeking out the small entrance that held both hope and your deepest fears. "Relax, my love," he coaxed, his warm breath ghosting across your ear as he waited for your body to yield, to open to his touch. "Let me take care of you...let me save your people as I take you as my own."

Your breath hitched slight, as your hands gripped onto the bed sheets. The fingers probing inside you gradually thickened and extended, inch by tantalizing inch, until the pad of his middle finger brushed against your untouched entrance. A bead of sweat trickled down the nape of your neck, testament to the mingling of apprehension and anticipation. Your body reacted of its own accord, instinctively tensing around the invading digits. You let out a soft moan through your lips. Mydei's touch remained patient and coaxing, slowly working your body to accommodate him."Easy, love," he crooned, his soothing timbre a balm against the nervousness gripping you. "Just breathe through it...let your body learn to accept me." Withdrawing his fingers slightly, he then resumed the gentle stretching, repeating the process with a meticulous tenderness that belied his reputation as a war god. The deliberate pace allowed your inner walls to relax and stretch, conforming to the contours of his digits."As you grow more accustomed to my touch," he huskily whispered, "I will claim you fully. And then, the village's salvation will be within our grasp."The unspoken promise hung heavy in the air - the union of your bodies would not only seal your union but also guarantee the reprieve of the plague plaguing your innocent people.

Mydei's touch intensified, his fingers gliding with greater proficiency through the slickness of your arousal, teasing your sensitive flesh with measured strokes. Your soft moans only spurred him on, igniting a burning hunger within him to possess you completely. "Oh, good girl," he praised, his low timbre sending shivers down your spine. "Let me hear that sweet surrender. It pleases me greatly." He added another finger, spreading them slightly to stimulate your inner walls and pleasure points as he continued the methodical stimulation.

The bed creaked softly beneath your intertwined bodies, a rhythmic accompaniment to the increasing intensity of your intimate encounter. "You're soaking me, my love," Mydei muttered, his free hand leaving your hip to wrap around and palm your breast. "So eager to welcome me inside you. How delightful." His thumb found your nipple, circling the hardened peak before giving it a firmer squeeze.

The combined sensations overwhelmed your senses, your hips instinctively pushing back against his fingers as your moans deepened and grew more frequent, lost amidst the hazy fog of lust."Soon," he promised against your skin, "soon I will make good on my vow..."

“O-Oh! I t-think i’m going to cum!” You warned in a loud tone, your lips parting as you whimpered while Mydei continued to pleasure you.

Mydei released your nipple with a deliberate pop, his hand retreating to firmly grip your hip, anchoring you in place. "Hold it, little bride," he commanded, his piercing gaze fixed intently on your face as his fingers resumed their deep, deliberate strokes amidst your quivering folds. "Your pleasure is mine to control. So bear it, on the edge of bliss, teetering on the precipice of release...until I deem you ready to fall." His words were a sensual mantra, designed to heighten your anticipation and prolong your agonizing suspense.

With every thrust of his fingers, he edged you closer to that tantalizing precipice, until finally, at the peak of your endurance, he slowed the motion to a maddening crawl. Your body screamed for release, a silent plea that only he could grant. His grip on your hip tightened, a manifestation of his own unyielding control and lustful possession. "Not yet," he admonished, his breath hot against your ear. "Not until I have you." With maddening slowness, his fingers began to move once more in your slick heat, their rhythm as deliberate and precise as a warrior drawing steel from its sheath.

Your eyes widened, you bit down you body lip as your legs began to tremble. “I-I don’t think I can take it a-anymore my Lord! Please let me cum!” You begged for release, you really needed to cum so badly.

Mydei's mouth curved into a wicked, anticipatory smile as he heard your desperate plea. His fingers picked up speed once more, driving you closer to the edge of your release as he savored the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon you. "Silence, darling," he commanded, his voice a sinful blend of gentleness and mastery. "No begging, no pleas... only surrender." He emphasized his point by increasing the pressure and thickness of his stroking, his other hand traveling down to palm your sex, thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that threatened to undo you entirely.

The combined stimulation was almost too much to bear, and yet, he held back, his willpower a palpable force that belied his every intention to bring you to the height of ecstasy and beyond.

Your body was putty in his hands, helpless and at his mercy as he teetered on the razor's edge of granting your release. With a guttural growl, he dipped a knuckle inside, rubbing expertly along the front wall of your passage before withdrawing to circle that throbbing bud. "Look at me," he demanded, his piercing gaze unwavering. "Meet my eyes as the world around you falls away and there is only... our union."

“Please just let me cum!” Your eyes began to water, you couldn’t take it anymore. “M-My Lord I promise we’ll find another pleasure! Just let me cum!”

A triumphant snarl escaped Mydei's lips as your desperate pleas turned to heartfelt cries, the warlord within him reveling in the exquisite control he wielded over your quivering form.

His fingers tightened around your sex, his thumb pressing insistently against that throbbing nub as he ground the digit mercilessly against your flesh. "No, not another pleasure," he grated, his voice a low, seductive growl that teased the hairs at the back of your neck. "You will cum... but only because I wish it. Only when I decree it. And for now, you are bound to my will, heart and soul."

With those final words, he dipped his fingers deep inside you once more, stroking your inner walls with a deliberate thrust that sent jolts of electric pleasure radiating through your entire body. Your back arched off the bed as a scream tore from your lips, your orgasm cresting over you in an unstoppable wave of ecstasy. Through it all, Mydei observed your pleasure with calculating intensity, his grip remaining unyielding as you spasmed around him, his very presence an anchor that kept you grounded amidst the turmoil of your surrender.

After a few minutes, Mydei finally let your release, your warm, sticky essence coating his fingers as your body trembled softly. However it was clear that he wasn’t finished yet - he still needed to fill you with his own.

As your inner walls clamped down around his fingers, Mydei groaned at the exquisite sensation, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of pain, a testament to the unyielding possession he craved.

Though you had been granted the respite of release, he knew the true rite still lay ahead - the union of your bodies as he claimed you utterly as his bride. Withdrawing his fingers from your spasming sex, he wiped the remaining evidence of your pleasure onto your slick thigh before guiding you back onto your knees. His powerful physique loomed over you, the rigid length of his arousal throbbing against your skin, a scorching brand of his impending desire. "Open for me," he commanded, his patient tone belying the primal hunger that drove him forward. With a swipe of his hands against your wetness, he notched the broad head of his cock at your entrance, his hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Now, my love, receive your lord's bounty."

A single flex of his powerful thighs impelled him forward, the engorged crown of his manhood breaching your entrance with a slow, deliberate ease that belied the monumental significance of the act. Your eyelids fluttered shut as a gasp escaped your lips, your body instinctively yielding to accommodate the thickness invading your passage. "You feel exquisite," Mydei rasped, his hands spanning your waist to steady you as he took himself to the hilt.

A shudder ran through him, the pleasure of being sheathed inside you almost enough to incite his orgasm on its own had he not been careful to stave it off. His hips pressed flush against your backside, the hard planes of his lower body unmistakable even through the layer of moisture slickening both your flesh. His fingers gently combed through the curls at the crown of your head, the silken strands cooling against your flushed skin as he whispered, "I am home here, within and without. The pleasure we could share is limitless, my love." His words stirred a fresh wave of want surging through your veins, matching the insistent throb of his cock pulsing deep inside you.

Mydei groaned as your tightening sheath gripped him like a velvet vice, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his very core. He held still for a moment, savoring the exquisite sensation, before gradually withdrawing until only the tip of his cock remained inside you.

The movement was a tease, a precursor to the full claiming he intended to bestow. Once he had wrung every last droplet of anticipation from your body, he plunged forward again with deliberation, driving back into the welcoming heat of your passage. Your keening moan echoed through the room as he moved with purpose, powerful strokes that rocked your whole body and filled the air with the lewd slap of flesh meeting flesh.

A bead of sweat trickled down Mydei's temple, a testament to the Herculean effort it took to maintain his control in the face of your enthralling tightness. Each plunge brought a fresh volley of grunts and groans from him, a primal soundtrack to the rhythmic claiming of your eager body.

Time lost all meaning as you surrendered to the primal dance of love and lust, your bodies moving as one in a cadence forged by ages of instinctive bonding between warrior and female. Mydei's pace remained relentless, a masterful exploration of your innermost depths, each thrust designed to bring you closer to ecstasy, to quench his own raging desire, and to solidify the bond between you.

Your pussy spasmed and tightened around him, a relentless pulse of need and want that threatened to trigger his own climaxes at any moment. But he wouldn't be swayed, intent on dragging out the pleasure until he had wrung every last morsel of bliss from your quivering form.

With a guttural growl, he shifted his angle, the new position sending sparks shooting through your nervous system as he brushed against your throbbing pleasure center with every drive home. "So eager to take me," he rasped, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulled you back against him. "Good girl, I'll make sure you're well and truly filled. Prepare to receive your husband's offering."

“F-Feels soo good…” you moaned out loud, your eyes rolling back as your mouth rolled out of your mouth. Making a lewd expression on your face.

The cadence of your breathless moans spurred him on, the sultry undertones of your voice a sensual caress to his ears alone. He leaned in, his lips whispering against your ear as he continued to drive into you with calculated rhythm. "Mmm, yes, you were made for me. Every inch of you, a perfect fit," he purred, his words dripping with satisfaction and desire.One large hand slid upward, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of your sides before settling on the swell of your breasts.

His thumb found a nipple, toying with the sensitive bud as it puckered beneath his touch. The other hand remained anchored on your hip, guiding your movements, deepening the penetration. "My bride, you have no idea the depths of pleasure I will take you to," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. With every word, he punctuated his claim, his cock throbbing within you, yearning for release. And yet, he held back, determined to draw out the moment until you and he both climaxed in unison, forging an unbreakable link between your bodies and souls. As the pace quickened, the bed creaked beneath you, a sensual refrain to the primal rhythm of love and lust.

"Your welcoming heat and tight passage make every moment a pleasure." He leaned over you, his powerful body covering yours from behind, as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck and shoulder. "You were made for me," he insisted, his words punctuated by the sensual sounds of flesh meeting flesh and your impassioned moans. "No other man could ever compare to the man who possesses you so thoroughly now." With renewed vigor, he pounded into you, the force of his strokes jolting your entire body against the bed. Your breasts bounced with each impactful plunge, the nipples hard and aching for his touch. He seemed to sense your need, releasing one hip to cup and fondle the pliant flesh. His thumb swept over the peak before tugging hard, adding the delicious friction to your already intense sensory overload. Your pleasure reached a fevered pitch, each pulse driving you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The pressure built relentlessly, your orgasm approaching with terrifying swiftness until...

Mydei felt your inner muscles clamping around him like a vice, the telltale signs of your impending climax unmistakable. With a low, animalistic growl, he continued to assault your trembling body with unrelenting depth and intensity, determined to be the one to coax that bliss from your clenching pussy.

Just as you teetered on the edge, ready to tumble into the abyss, he reached between your thighs, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that would send you hurtling into rapture. With a few expert rubs, he managed to stave off the onset of your orgasm, instead prolonging the delicious tension to his own benefit. "Oh no, beloved," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "We're not quite finished here. Bear with me just a little longer." His fingers returned to work, teasing you mercilessly until the sweet relief of release nearly became an obsession. You writhed beneath him, a symphony of moans and desperate pleas issuing from your lips as he masterfully kept you on this razor's edge of ecstasy. "Please... I can't take it anymore," you begged, your voice a whimpering plea.

A triumphant smile curved Mydei's lips at the sound of your needy pleas, his masculine ego stroked by the extent of your wanton desperation. "Patience, my love," he counselled, his tone a soothing balm amidst the tempest of your passion. He continued his tantalizing ministrations, coaxing euphoria from your very core with deliberate slowness.

The world narrowed to just the two of you, bound together in a dance of primal ecstasy. Your body quivered, every fibre of your being focused on the crescendo building inside you, straining towards the ultimate release. Still, he held back, savoring the delicate balance of your pleasure.Then, in one decisive move, Mydei drove deep, the thick, hot length of his manhood plunging to the very tip of your womb.

Your screams echoed off the stone walls, a shrill symphony of raw joy and intense satisfaction as you finally yielded to the maelstrom of bliss. Waves of euphoria crashed over you, each contraction of your clamping cunt drawing a satisfied grunt from him as he surrendered to the relentless tide of his own release within you.

“L-Let me cum! Please!” You begged, you didn’t want to hold another orgasm. Though Mydei couldn't resist the unrelenting pleas spilling from your trembling lips, your desperate cries fueling the already unquenchable lust burning within him.

With a final, deep thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt, his thick cock stroking against your inner walls as he grunted his own surrender to the overwhelming desire. A fierce groan rumbled through his chest as your spasming pussy clamped down around him, each aftershock sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his veins. His own climax arrived with cataclysmic force, his seed erupting from the very core of him in mighty spurts that painted your insides with the essence of his manhood.

"Cum for me, my love," he groaned, his grip on your hips flexing with the overwhelming rhythm of his release. "Fill me with your pleasure." As your orgasm surged in response, you bucked against him, your trembling body writhing in the throes of ecstasy. He held you tight, the pulsing heat of his climax mingling with yours until, finally, the maelstrom began to ebb.

Slowly, the intense pleasure began to recede, leaving in its wake a dull throb of satisfaction and contentment that spread through Mydei's body like warmth. He drew in a shaky breath, his chest heaving with the exertion of their passionate union. As the final pulses of his climax faded, he withdrew from your welcoming heat, his softening cock slipping free with a gentle squelch. Mydei settled back onto his heels, gazing down at the sight of his seed trickling from your still-closed folds with a satisfied smirk. "Magnificent," he praised, his voice heavy with exhaustion and awe. "You took me beautifully, my queen."

He reached out to gently brush a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek with whispered tenderness. "Are you alright, my love?" His worried gaze searched your flushed face as he awaited your response, ever the devoted partner, ensuring you were sated and content before focusing on his own needs.

“Y-Yeah…” you gasped, your breath hitching. His smile broadened at your affirmative nod, the relief evident in his features as he registered your acknowledgement. Mydei knew that in the aftermath of such intense coupling, words often fell short, yet his queen had spoken volumes with her nod. Embracing the unspoken understanding between lovers, he leaned forward to capture her mouth in a tender kiss, his lips brushing against the soft, plump flesh in a gesture of comfort and affection.

The gentle kiss seemed to speak volumes, conveying the depth of his devotion and the joy he derived from their intimate connection. When he finally broke the embrace, he rested his foreheads together, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "Rest now, my love. Let your body recover from our passion." He caressed your face, the gesture a soothing balm as he guided you to curl into his side, one strong arm encircling your waist to draw you close. In this moment of intimacy, the world outside receded, leaving only the two of you, basking in the afterglow of your love-making.

“Just go save the village already…” you blurted out, frustration lacing your tone. You knew he didn’t need the reminder, but the thought of him hesitating, even for a moment, was unbearable.

Mydei's brow furrowed at your abrupt shift in tone, the warmth of afterglow momentarily usurped by a hint of sternness. He straightened, casting a piercing look at his queen. "I will," he confirmed, his voice firm with purpose. "But know this, I will not return until the bastards who terrorized your home are nothing more than memories." His intense gaze held yours for a beat longer, promising vengeance, before he stood and retrieved his worn, battered sword from where it lay on the dresser. With a final, lingering kiss to your temple, he strode towards the door, the very air seeming to crackle with his barely contained fury and pent-up strength.

Just as he reached for the handle, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. He paused, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "If anything were to happen while I'm gone... if you need me..." His voice trailed off, the implication clear in the unspoken plea. Mydei swallowed hard, the depth of his need and longing palpable in the tense set of his jaw. "Send a runner," he finally instructed, the bare minimum yet the only order he could bear to make. "I'll come without fail."

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[princessofmarvel]

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst! 

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids. 

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on. 

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone.  He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her. 

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes. 

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up. 

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much. 

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt.  Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke. 

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up. 

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one. 

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this” 

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. 

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.” 

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.” 

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away. 

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came. 

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him. 

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more. 

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.” 

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?” 

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest. 

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time. 

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close. 

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.” 

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left. 

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly. 

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan. 

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada. 

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in. 

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious. 

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered. 

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.” 

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out. 

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man. 

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour. 

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising. 

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison. 

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face. 

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.” 

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled. 

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” 

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following. 

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers. 

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes. 

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.” 

[gguk-n]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could please write a redbull driver with multiple wdc x platonic grid

But the older drivers like max Charles Lewis lando etc get jealous of her constantly being with the younger ones like franco kimi and Ollie all fluff n funny n fans going crazy bout their jealousy

Thank you

Rivals of the Track

{Reader's POV}

It was the Azerbaijan GP, Kevin wouldn't be racing so Ollie had replaced him for the race. He was this tall lanky British teen who rightfully corrected me saying that he was an adult now, he was funny. Ollie was with his best friend Kimi, who had come to support him for the race. I found their friendship endearing and reminded me of my best friend who would try to come to as many races as she could. The other drivers would argue about who my best friend was, but I knew who my best friend was and it was Y/BFF/N.

"Y/N, did you colour your hair?" Kimi asked. "You can tell?" I asked slightly shocked, "I just went for a lighter shade of burgundy than the last time" I elaborated. "Yeah, you look prettier" Ollie chimed. "Thank you. You boys are so sweet, unlike some people I know" I said looking at the other drivers who were stood a few feet away who were very confused when I asked them if anything was different about me. "You're always pretty" Franco added. "Okay, okay, flattery will only get you so far" I laughed. "We're being honest. Having some one as talented and beautiful on the grid that we can learn from is an honour" Kimi said solemnly. "Okay, is there a body you boys wanna hide?" I asked laughing. They laughed back.

"Can you introduce us to Lewis?" Franco whispered while we were stood there waiting for the media interviews. "Sure" I said. "He's so cool and we aren't sure if he'll talk to us" The other two boys added. "Oh, no, my babies, he's a sweetheart. You could just walk up to him and start talking. I was scared of him when I first joined too but we're pretty good friends" I explained. The 3 boys smiled at me, nodding in agreement.

Every time I would be talking to these 3, trying to make them feel at home like all the times the others did, I could feel eyes on me. I wasn't sure why they were all glaring at me.

I was doing my post quali media after qualifying P4. "So, what a race? Are you expecting a win or a podium?" The interviewer asked. "Obviously going to go for the win, podium isn't too far away either, let's see, I have a Ferrari and a McLaren to fight off though" I laughed. "We've seen you hanging around with the younger drivers, do they remind you of your rookie days?" she asked. "Yes, they are so nervous and scared but full of energy. They are fun to hang out with too" I said. "Does this mean you find the older drivers boring?" she prodded. "Never said that" I tsked. "I'm just trying to make them feel at home" I said. "Well, the fans are eating your interactions up. They find it so cute, you're like the mother duck and they are your ducklings" she said. "I wouldn't say that they are wrong" I chuckled. "I interviewed your teammate Max a while back and he didn't seem too pleased with your blossoming friendship. Why is that so?" the interviewer pointed out. "We're all competitive. I guess they are competitive about friends too" I shrugged. "It was nice talking to you, can't wait to watch you on the podium" she stated. I smiled and talked away.

I met the others in my drivers room. "I think this is a confidentiality breech to have all the other teams here" I laughed. "We're staging an intervention" Max stated. "For what? I don't have an addiction" I pointed out. "Since we're losing our bestie" Lando said. I couldn't help but laugh, "Who?" I asked. "You, you dumbass" Charles said. I sat on the chair that was unoccupied. "What's up my fellow drivers?" I asked. "We aren't only your fellow drivers, we're best friends" Lewis said. "Arguable but okay" I shrugged. "Are we not best friends?" Daniel fake cried. "My best friend is Y/BFF/n. You guys, I tolerate at best" I laughed. I could see all them visibly pout. "We don't like it" they said in unison. "What do you not like?" I asked. "You hanging out with the younger drivers or that we aren't best friends. Are we too old for you?" Carlos asked. "I'm as old as you guys. They just remind me of my siblings, they are like my ducklings and I'm their mother duck" I chuckled reminded of the analogy. "So, you aren't replacing us?" Oscar quipped. "Obviously not, they are my children. You guys are my friends" I said face palming myself. "Group hug?" Yuki asked and then we all huddled together. "What about us being best friends?" Max asked. "Still Y/BFF/N. I don't feel like a girl when I'm around you guys, she reminds me. We all have something special, we're competitors and friends" I said. They all seemed to nod in agreement.

After an abysmal race, I was laying in my hotel room going through twitter when I saw people talking about how I had taken the younger drivers under my wing and how they would follow me around like lost puppies while you could see the others stare daggers at them. At some point in the weekend, Max did almost carry me away from them, out of jealousy it seems and the gif was circulating all over the internet. I laughed at the tweets, my friends can get jealous, they would be jealous when I hang out with Y/BFF/N but I do need a get away from all the testosterone, but they are nice people, just bad at communicating.

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce and Viktor Dating Someone with ADHD • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hiiii how are you? I love your stories so I was wondering if you could write more jayvik x reader but who has adhd? TYSMM -- anon and Your Jayvik + reader headcanons have me are giddy and are healing my soul. Is it possible to ask for a some headcanons with a reader who has ADHD and also forgets to eat because of it?? I hope your day is kind to you! -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, reader has ADHD, mentions of food and eating/not eating, these are lowkey kinda short im so sorry lol

A.N: Disclaimer: I don't have ADHD but I have many friends that do and while ADHD presents itself differently for people, I tried to keep this a bit generalized, I hope that's ok!! If anything needs changing or needs to be deleted for being inaccurate or anything, just let me know! Hope you guys enjoy!!

•

Jayce and Viktor are both very understanding people, so when you told them you had ADHD they didn’t have a problem with it. They are, however, problem solvers (they are inventors with the dream of making Piltover and Zaun better for the people), meaning they are very curious about your habits and how they can help. They don’t want to “cure” you, because there’s nothing to cure, but they want to understand how to reassure you and how to make living with ADHD easier on a day-to-day basis

If you’re someone who fidgets with things a lot, Jayce will happily pick up the task of making something that satisfies your need to occupy your hands and your thoughts. He loves being in the forge and he’ll gladly let you sit in there with him and listen to you describe what you would want. He’ll sit next to you, sketching out the design while you ramble about what textures are better than others or how weighty it should feel in your hand. Jayce honestly loves this little side project; not only does it let him work on something other than his research, but it also puts a smile on your face

If you like rambling for hours about your latest hyperfixation, Viktor is the best for that. He has a naturally curious mind and would love to learn something new. He especially likes it when your head is resting on his chest in the middle of the night. Viktor likes watching you move your hands as you talk excitably about the plant life in Ionia or the history of the Yordles. He doesn’t just listen—he’ll ask you questions or give you reading material he thinks you may like as well

Going to Council parties or even just walking through Piltover can really overwhelm you sometimes, either with all the noise or the texture of your clothing feeling off, so your partners are very attentive to your wellbeing. The three of you set up a codeword for anyone to use when someone needs or wants to leave. They try to make it something funny every time to hopefully ease the panic a little bit. Usually Jayce and Viktor are glued to either side of you hip, but in the off chance they have to roam around the room, the two of them will try to keep an eye on you. They will always reassure you that it's ok that they are leaving these sorts of events early (Viktor barely wants to go in the first place), and when you get home the three of you will do something to calm everyone down and get into comfortable clothes

Having ADHD, you tend to get distracted/forget to do certain things. This usually includes eating. Your partners never want to seem overbearing or like they're smothering you, so they will try to subtly remind you to eat/do certain things. Jayce likes writing you little notes and putting them in the apartment. Usually they have little hearts in the corners with some encouraging remark after "remember to eat!" Viktor will usually try to eat with you, so you won't feel alone while eating. He'll be making something and he'll set the table for either two or three and that just reminds you to actually sit down and eat what Viktor makes

Your partners are very patient and are always open to new ideas. if you want them to do something different or if something works really well, they would love to hear it. They absolutely will not be mad at all, they love you so much and all they want to do is help make things easier for you

•

[writing-girlie]

Just for tonight

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

Blurb: When Jack finds you sitting around after shift he doesn’t ask you to explain, just offers a drink and a moment of quiet. No expectations, no pressure.

WC: 1k

Warnings: [Soft] smut, unprotected sex, I think thats all?

Notes: I don't know where this came from. I can't stop writing for this man.

You had reached the end of another shift. This had been your life for a few years now and you loved it but it was a lot. You’re hunched over on the bench, elbows to knees, staring down at your fidgeting hands. Jack stops walking when he sees you.

“Your shift ended nearly half an hour ago.”

You exhale a slow breath, “Yeah. I know.”

“Rough day.” Jack leans against the wall across from you, arms crossed. You let out a soft, dry laugh.

He stays quiet. You finally glance up. There’s no sharpness in your voice, just tired honesty.

"I just needed to sit for a moment. Breathe before I go home like this. I didn’t want to bring it with me.”

“Most of them are. I just want something that feels good. Something real, even if it’s just for a night.” You shake your head, embarrassed by the words as soon as they leave your mouth. “It’s stupid. I know. This isn’t exactly the job for comfort.”

Jack looks at you for a long time, like he understands exactly what you mean.

“No,” he says finally. “It’s not stupid.”

You blink up at him.

“Come to my place, just for a bit. We’ll have a drink. Sit down. You can breathe.”

You nod.

The drive to his place is quiet but not uncomfortable. When he opens the door you follow him to the living room. His apartment is calming, lived in but organised.

“I’ll get you a drink” he says, his voice quieter now.

You nod, sinking into the couch. You let your head fall back and close your eyes. Jack’s footsteps softly echo to the kitchen and back again. When you open your eyes, he’s holding out a glass of whisky.

“Thanks.” He sits down, not too close, not too far. You both take a sip.

“I didn’t mean to come off desperate earlier.”

“You didn’t.” He’s quick to reassure you.

You exhale, eyes still forward. “I just- I go home, force down a bite of something, I barely sleep, and when I do stop moving, I feel like I’m going to break.”

“You don’t have to keep doing it alone.” He softly says.

“You say that like it’s simple.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, glancing your way now. “But neither is walking around with all that weight and nowhere to put it.”

You hold his gaze for a second too long. Then you both look away at the same time. You place your drink on the side table to stop yourself from taking constant sips just because you don't know what to say.

When your eyes meet again, it’s different. You both lean in at the same time, your lips meeting in the middle. It’s not what either of you expected when you agreed to come over. You feel his hand come up, settle against the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek, and when you pull back just slightly, your forehead rests against his. You don’t say anything. Neither does he, but he knows what to do next.

He gets up, places his drink down, and reaches for your hand. When you take it, he leads you down the hallway to his bedroom. You just stand for a moment, fingers laced in his. He reaches for the hem of your shirt slowly; he moves with care, giving you every chance to pull back, but you don’t. You lift your arms, letting him pull the shirt over your head.

You do the same for him. Your eyes trace over his well-built frame, the freckles that are speckled over his shoulders, and the soft rise and fall of his chest. Piece by piece you undress each other; nothing is rushed. You both know that this is about feeling something real and grounding.

Jack guides you back a few steps. When you lie back on the bed, Jack follows, bracing himself over you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then over your collarbone. With the soft kisses, he reaches down and lines his hard length with your pussy. He pushes inside inch by inch, filling you completely, your arms wrap around his back, and your nails softly trace over his skin.

You both stay still, just embracing how you feel until you whisper his name. He starts to move, setting a gentle rhythm. You can feel every part of him, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’ll break. You lift your head to kiss him again, and your hand then naturally finds rest in his hair. His pace never falters or speeds up. It feels like he’s trying to remind you that you’re still worthy of softness.

The space is filled with the sound of shared breaths and a quiet creak of the bed. His eyes meet yours again, and something about it makes your heart beat faster. You move one of your hands from his back to besides your head to hold his hand. He holds your hand, gently squeezing it.

Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him closer as you feel yourself get closer to the end of this moment. Your voice is barely a whisper.

“Don’t stop.”

Jack's hand tightens around yours briefly, silently telling you that he won't stop. He rests his forehead against yours, your breath mingling. He lets go of your hand and slips it beneath your back, holding you closer.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice husky, and that’s when you feel yourself slipping, unravelling into the safety of his arms.

Your breath hitches as you reach the peak, and soft moans follow. It hits you gently, like rolling waves, and it leaves you trembling, your body pulsing around him. You nod at him, and mumble a please. You feel Jack's body tense as he fills you up. He buries his face into the crook of your neck.

After a moment he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your lips. He rolls onto his side, pulling you with him. You snuggle into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You listen to his heartbeat with the sound of the city as background noise.

In that silence it’s just him and you, and the quiet realisation that maybe this isn’t just a one-night escape.

[moonstruckme]

hellooow i love your writing and characterization is so good 🤌🤌🤌 could you write something about james and r talking about their future together and james is like "yess and we'll live in a nice house with two or three little us running around!!" and reader is like "haha thats so cute love but i don't want kids... ._."

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You tsk, adding a picture to your pinterest board. “It’s decided. Someday, when we move out of this apartment, I simply can’t live without a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.” 

“Mm.” James’ hum vibrates on your chest. He’s been lying there for some time, in and out of dozing while you’re on your phone. “I think that can be arranged. I want a fireplace.” 

“You just want to chop up wood.” 

You feel his smile spread against your skin. “And so what if I do?” 

“It wasn’t a criticism. So long as I can come watch.” 

His laugh is a warm puff of air, followed by a soft kiss just below your collarbone. This commences a fascination that involves his lips making a slow, idle perusal of your skin. “Do you think you want a big house?” 

“Not really.” Your attention has been pulled from your screen, the sight below you too adorable to ignore. You thread your fingers into James’ hair. “Too much cleaning. Honestly, if you have any questions you should just look at my pinterest. I’ve got it all laid out. We can make room for whatever TV you want, though, I suppose. Plus a secret tunnel to Sirius’ and Remus’.” 

“Obviously,” he agrees. “Yeah, I’m the same. All I need is my fireplace, you, and maybe a nice backyard for the kids.” 

Your hand stills on James’ head as a heavy weight drops into your chest. 

You’ve managed to evade this conversation, you’re not sure how. You’re not sure why either. Maybe just to make a good thing last, for as long as you could. But you know how much James loves kids. And if you’re honest with yourself, this, the proof that he does expect them one day, has always felt inevitable. You feel like a liar for not bringing it up with him sooner. 

Maybe it worsens your deception, but you keep your tone light as you ask, “Would you settle for a backyard for a couple of dogs instead?”

James gives a little laugh, tinged with bemusement. It makes you feel worse. 

“Or cats,” you say, voice growing smaller. “Or no pets, up to you.” 

It’s probably your obvious unease that tips him off. James looks up at you. You straighten his glasses for him automatically. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, and there’s no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. 

A low buzzing burrows into your ears, not unlike how you imagine it’d sound if you were drowning. 

“I don’t really want kids.” 

James’ face falls, and your heart splinters. 

“You don’t?” It’s like he thinks he might’ve misheard you. 

You shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, immediately angry with yourself for apologizing but not angry enough to overshadow your guilt. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just don’t. It’s not that I hate kids or anything, I just, I don’t want to have any of my own.” 

“Oh.” The word seems to leave James on a breath, faint and hollow. “Okay.” 

Your eyes burn, and you cannot cry right now but you can’t seem to shut up either. “If I ever did want to, it would be with you. But I just—” your voice fractures “—I don’t want to bring kids into a home that doesn’t want them, even if—if it’s only me that doesn’t. It’s not fair.” 

“No, you’re right.” James’ voice sounds a bit more like him now. He’s nodding, slowly, like he’s still wrapping his head around things. “You shouldn’t have kids if you don’t want them. For you and for them.” 

You nod. Hot tears trudge down your cheeks. 

Wordlessly, he sits up and wraps his arms around your shoulders. James is a really good hugger. Tight and warm, like he’s given and received plenty in his life. You know he’d be a great dad. Any kid would be lucky to have him, someone who comes from a love passed down and strengthened through generations. You’re just not meant to be a mom. 

You hold onto each other tightly, and you wonder if it’s the last time you will. You know in your heart that you’re doing the right thing for yourself, that you should never make such a life-altering choice based on someone else, but right now you’re desperate enough to consider it. You think you might do anything to keep him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

James pushes his face into your neck. You think, to your horror, that he might be crying too. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” 

“I wish that I wanted to.” 

“You don’t. It’s okay.” 

You sit there like that for long minutes. When James pulls back, he sets his hands to your face, smiling ruefully as he thumbs away your tears. You choke out a little laugh and do the same for him. You have the urge to kiss his cheek, warm and beloved, but you don’t know if you should. 

“We can have pets,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. “And if Sirius and Rem or Lily or anyone has kids, I can just be their favorite uncle.” 

“You would be,” you say. “Being their aunt would be fun, too.” You study him anxiously. “Are you sure?” 

James’ lies down beside you, seemingly exhausted. “Sure about what?” 

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know, I guess that you’re okay with this.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, which you appreciate. You want him to think about it. A sigh leaves him, long and heavy. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea,” he says finally. 

“But…for right now, you don’t want to break up?” 

“What?” James turns to look at you. Whatever he sees makes his face soften. “Oh—no, honey, I don’t want that. That wasn’t even…I wasn’t thinking like that.”

“Are you sure?” you ask again, though it threatens to bring another wave of tears. “I know you pictured things differently. I’d get it.” 

“I always wanted all of that with you,” he says, soft and yet somehow firm. “It’s going to take me some time to change how I picture the rest, but you’re not going anywhere. Not if I can help it.” His mouth curves slightly as he holds out his hand in invitation. You place yours in it. He brings your palm to his lips, kissing your heart line. “It’s you and me, yeah?” 

A pleasant feeling skitters up your arm to sit in your chest. “Yeah.”

[matchamiko]

hello!! could I please request prompt 25 with toshinori?

˚₊ ⊹ 25. The first makeout session that could lead to more + Toshinori Yagi

˚₊ ⊹ Warnings: dry humping, previous established new relationship, canon small-might, making out.

He was - grading papers? Finishing off a report on the last homework he set? Actually writing the next homework assignment in fact? Either way, his coffee table was strewn with papers, some in neat piles and some discarded none to kindly, caught under the fans of his laptop open on a word document baring names and grades and percentages he’s not really focusing on right now.

You came over a few hours ago with a bento box or two for the next days at school. It was just something you started doing for him, claimed it was because he wasn’t eating enough and that your love language was cooking food for people, but you loved that he would kiss your cheek and parade it around the school wrapped in its cute cloth with its cute bow. And you kind of never left, chatting idly with him from the kitchen while you brewed tea, something soft for him and a herby concoction for yourself, something to make you sleepy and all the more acceptable.

Toshinori could taste it in your mouth. The tea and something else, something distinctly you. Leaning backwards as you cup his sharp jaw, smiling when you hum and kiss his nose affectionately. There was something on the TV, something mind numbing and calm, a documentary about Geisha's he thinks but he's too focussed on his work, and on you. The futon you'd insisted on setting up for him was comfortable, soft and heavy at the same time, a perfect support for his back while he was tucked up by the coffee table while you lounged like a cat on the couch behind him, asking lazily every few minutes for a kiss. This was the first one on the mouth. You'd started on the back of his head, then on his long frazzled strands framing his face and then his forehead, then his nose and when you pecked his lips; Toshinori found himself chasing and chasing and chasing.

"Don't tell the kids that I abandoned their grades for you," he's twisted at a strange angle with his lips muttering yours, a prayer only for you to taste, "Aizawa'll kill me if he knew,"

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed and drawing your hands up the sinewy expanse of his neck,

"You have your priorities in perfect order, thank you very much," Toshinori allows you to slink down to the floor, following the droop of your legs and curling into his lap with deep, yearning sigh "I require kisses and you're supplying them, you're serving your duty to your partner,"

He laughs and then moans with the shape of your lips on his jaw,

"I suppose, if you put it like that," he looks at you for a moment, a soft smile stretching over his features and you return it, a little something extra in your eyes he can't quite make out. You two had kissed before, a lot and often but this felt different, felt like honey trickling down his bones and crystallising hot in his belly. Toshinori hums with the tracing of your mouth over his neck, sucking something mean into his delicate skin and he shifts, hands settling on your hips.

Hips that slot deeper against his and give this shy little shudder. A large slender hand cups the back of your head where you practically vibrate against him, the air suddenly palpable and sweet. You think he might ask you to stop, that you've gone far enough and that he's not quite ready for anything more intense, given his injuries and situation and maybe he wants you to go home or even take a break or even -

"Do that again, please," he's far from sober, drinking your lips and swallowing your gushing whimpers, desperate for the kisses and the licks he's come to know so well. These are different, headier, a little smoky and a little dangerous, slow and hard and all things moreish. His free hand guides your hips, into what he's not sure but you gain confidence at his request, undulating with such wantonness that he's the first that moans out loud. Punched and loud and startling, Toshinori flushes right down to his stomach, peaking from where you'd shoved your hands under his shirt, hardly denting your frantic kisses. His grip is harsh, demanding and selfish, smoothing to your ass and this time it's you that grunts at the way he massages a spreads you, slouching lower and wider against the couch.

"I want - I wanna -," you're stuttering but it's from lust, from the sheer magnetic want for the man beneath you, heavy lidded and panting open mouthed, "Please, can we - we don't hav'ta but also, y'know?"

Toshinori kisses you again, slow and deliberate, decisive with his answer; wordless save for a whimper and a jerk.

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