#hadley's 5k celebration

[moonknightly]

Babes:

blowing up their phone and receiving no answers (this either being the reason behind the argument or just adding fuel to the fire)

Would love this prompt with any of the moon boys but Jake would be preferred I'm imagining...

Jake is blowing up reader's phone because he's worried...and she's not answering for whatever reason (busy or something). He's genuinely worried she might be in danger and oh boy...

Smut would be nice but not necessary. Do what you will with this <3 Love you babes and congrats on 5k!

Jake's not used to this feeling, the one of absolute terror and panic vibrating through his chest, cracking his ribs and making it harder and harder to breathe with each passing moment. He's not used to the way his hands tremble and shake, or the way sweat trickles down the back of his neck and soaks the collar of his shirt. It's unfamiliar, unwelcome.

He doesn't get anxiety. He's always confident, always so sure and stoic and proud.

But now he's fucking panicking because you haven't answered your phone all day, and you were supposed to be home four hours ago.

Terrible thoughts race through his head. Where could you be? What if you're hurt? What if someone hurt you?

He feels sick to his stomach as every possible scenario moves through his head. Someone could've cornered you in an alley, or pulled you into their car and now you could be in someone's basement while they think about doing God knows what to you and-

Jake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying so so hard to calm his thoughts. They're not doing him any good.

No, if you're hurt he should be out there looking for you. He should be doing something other than waiting around the flat, waiting rather impatiently for your return that may or may not come at this point. He should be-

His thoughts are interrupted again but this time, it's not by his own doing. The sound of a key in the lock immediately catches his attention and he stands, fists clenched by his sides. You slip through the door and quickly close it behind you but he doesn't relax, doesn't let his hands return to normal, doesn't let his shoulders sag.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snaps before he can think better of it, his voice nearly a snarl, eyes on fire.

His anger shocks you, it's clear by the look on your face but it's not enough to get him to back down. Not really.

"Babe I'm so sorry, my phone died before I could tell you I had to stay late and I didn't have a charger and-"

"You couldn't have used your work phone?" he interrupts, taking a few steps closer. "Someone else's phone?"

"I don't have your number memorized honey. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..."

Your words do nothing to comfort him. He's still panicking, his mind is still so so loud and not in the way he's used to, his anxiety so intense he's completely blocked off Marc and Steven.

"I thought you were hurt! I thought something bad happened to you. I thought...I thought-"

He can't finish his sentence. He can't breathe. He doesn't remember how and the feeling of claws digging into his skin from the inside out is still there and he feels like his knees are about to give out and-

"Sweetheart," you say, your voice gentle and soft. Your hands are suddenly on either side of his face, the feeling of your skin on his bringing just an ounce of relief and Jake finally feels like he can pull in another breath. "You're having a panic attack, okay? It's okay, you're okay. I'm right here, I've got you."

"I don't get panic attacks," he forces out between clenched teeth, snapping his eyes shut and willing himself to just calm down. Marc is the one who has panic attacks, and sometimes Steven gets them but never Jake. Never him.

You might as well be ignoring him.

"You're okay," you mumble again, moving one of your hands into his hair, running your fingers through his hair in that way you know he likes, nails scraping against his scalp. "It's okay."

The feeling of your nails slowly starts to ground him, slowly starts to bring him back to reality and breathing becomes easier. His chest starts to feel lighter and the sweat on his neck starts to dry. He's calming down. You're calming him down.

He's pushed from the front before he gets the chance to calmly rationalize his thoughts to you, Steven taking the reins when the emotions running through his body become even more confusing and overwhelming.

That's fine, he thinks. It gives him a chance to think about how he's going to punish you for not answering your phone the next time he has the body.

this is TRASH I'M SORRY

[moonknightly]

hiiiii ❤️ congrats on 5k!!!!! 🥳🍾

i have a drabble prompt for you (if you feel so inspired): saving their name as something cute in your phone + nathan (or anyone really if you feel like it fits with someonelse better, i just thought it would be cute/funny because it's nathan, ya know? 😆) either way, thank you! 💖💖💖

You stare at the phone in your hand, blinking once, twice, trying so so hard to make sure that your eyes aren't betraying you and that what you see displayed on the screen in front of you is really there.

You'd tried calling Nathan only to find that he left his phone on the kitchen counter, the sound of it vibrating against the granite grabbing your attention. You'd walked over to where it lay, sighing in frustration because you couldn't find him and of course he wouldn't have his phone on him and you were getting ready to turn on your heel and walk away when something caught your eye.

You hadn't hung up the phone yet, the call still connected, waiting to reach his voicemail, your name still lighting up the screen except it wasn't your name.

"Sweetheart."

He'd named you "Sweetheart" in his phone.

It was almost comical, the way you'd picked up the phone and brought it so close to your face, like the proximity would change what you were seeing but even after the call ended, his voicemail notification still read the same.

Nathan Bateman gave you a cute nickname in his phone. The man you were sure had never muttered the word "sweetheart" out loud before, choosing to exclusively call you "babe" or your name.

It made a flurry of butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach, a frenzy that didn't disappear even after you were interrupted by a voice behind you.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

You turn, a bright smile plastered across your face, hands still clutching his phone. Your smile turns into a proud smirk when he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side, and when you don't give him an answer he asks a second question.

"You snoopin' through it or something?"

You shake your head and pass it to him. He only looks even more confused, lips pursed, a third question on his lips but this time you beat him to it.

"You left your phone on the counter."

"...yes?" he hums, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "And what about it?"

"I couldn't find you, so I tried calling you."

"Okay?"

He still hasn't put it together. For someone so smart, you can't believe he hasn't pieced it together yet. You just stare at him and wait, biting your tongue to keep yourself from giggling at the truly puzzled expression on his face.

It seems to finally hit him and the tips of his ears turn pink, though he doesn't say anything. He just looks shy, an expression you're not used to seeing him wear and you finally let that giggle escape you.

"Shut up," he mumbles, shoving his phone into his pocket, rolling his eyes. "What, you can't handle a simple nickname?"

"It's not a nickname, it's a petname."

"Same thing," he argues, grumbling, turning on his heel to go literally anywhere else you're sure.

"No it's not!" you call after him, your giggles still echoing about, reverberating off the kitchen cabinets.

"Yes it is!"

"Oh but it isn't," you hum, quick to catch up to him in the hallway, playfully jumping onto his back, pressing a kiss to his cheek that he pretends to hate but really doesn't.

You can't wait to spend the rest of the night teasing him.

this really made me realize how much i like run-on sentences lmao

[moonknightly]

Congrats on 5k followers! I was wondering if you could write a oneshot with Santiago using this prompt from the pre-argument list: sending the scary "we need to talk." text; but with a twist.

Reader sends it Santi, and he thinking “oh god she’s breaking up with me” and is fully prepared to get on his knees and plead for her to change her mind, and it turns out that the Reader is pregnant, and wanted to talk to Santi over whether or not they should keep it.

No argument, I just thought this would be a great idea for a bait and switch 😂

Santi's dreading the moment you come home.

Normally he's excited, of course he is—you're his partner and his everything and the fact that you choose to come home to him at the end of everyday is something he will never take for granted. He loves you more than anything, you've given him a purpose now that his bad knees have taken him out of commission.

But you'd sent him a text in the middle of the day that made his heart stop in his chest, made the blood in his veins turn to ice.

"We need to talk."

Of course, Santi starts trying to figure out what exactly he's done wrong. There had to be something, right? There's only one reason you would send him a text like that...

Whatever he's done, it's apparently bad enough for you to want to break up with him. He's sure that's what you want to talk about, there can't be another option here, at least not one that he can figure out. No, you're done with him, he knows it. Just like everything else that he's touched, he's going to lose you too.

So he spends the day panicking, unable to do anything but pace and clean and pace some more. He finally decides to take a shower right before you're due to walk through the door, thinking the hot water will help calm his nerves but it doesn't. His heart is still racing and there are so many unwanted thoughts running through his head.

He apparently doesn't realize how long he's spent in the shower, his goal having been to get out before you get home but when he walks back into the bedroom in search of some clean clothes, you're sitting on the edge of the bed, your legs folded underneath you.

You look like you're going to be sick, and Santi doesn't take that as a good sign. His stomach drops and his chest feels tight, like someone's digging their fingers between his ribs. He opens his mouth, not above begging, not at all. If the only way to get you to stay is for him to get on his knees, he'll do it.

But you beat him to it and speak first.

"I'm pregnant," you say, not wasting any time, not beating around the bush at all.

Santi actually sighs in fucking relief.

And it catches you completely off guard, but not necessarily in a bad way. Not really.

"Thank God," he mumbles, running a hand through his still soaked curls. "I thought you were going to break up with me or somethin'."

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. "Why would I break up with you?"

"Why else do people send cryptic 'we need to talk' texts?"

He has a point, that much you can admit. You open your arms, silently beckoning him closer and he doesn't hesitate to fall into your arms, burying his face into your neck.

"I'm not breaking up with you...as long as you don't break up with me for being pregnant," you tease, though there is just a hint of truth behind your words. You're terrified that he's going to leave you.

"Why would I break up with you for that honey?" he purrs, pulling back just enough to get a better look at your face, his hand falling to your stomach. "You really are?"

You nod your head, heart soaring as his thumb gently moves across your belly. "I really am."

You don't have to ask Santi what he wants to do, whether or not he wants to keep the baby. You get your answer when he kisses you, your lips almost unable to keep up with his and the excitement coursing through his body.

Santi's so fucking glad you're not breaking up with him.