#nine month contract

[little-miss-romance]

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.75

I have a lot of thoughts, and a lot of feelings. Like a lot. So we will just start with the positive and go on from there.

Things I liked, Wyatt. Literally just him and the animals. I loved how protective he was and how he was just a caretaker. I’m love language is definitely acts of service so I really loved seeing all the things that he did. Leaving her breakfast and just wanting to care for Trista made me smile. I loved seeing that he wanted to be a dad and was so excited about the process and idea. I do wish that he was more up about his past earlier on, and that their communication was better. And I wish he had learned to express his concerns a little better, but honestly Trisha was so much worse with her communication.

The things I liked about Trista? She knew what she wanted in life, but that is literally the only good thing that I can say about her, I really didn’t like her at all even at the end. She rubbed me all sorts of wrong. Now I can respect the hustle of being a surrogate, but I really draw the line of dehumanizing yourself in the process. I HATED that she constantly thought of herself as a “cow” in order to remain detached to the pregnancy. And I also didn’t like how she constantly was back and forth with body positivity. And how her “independence” was causing more harm than good. It ticked me off that she was so accepting of everyone else doting on her but Wyatt. Oh also didn’t really enjoy that inner thought mattress sense (iykyk) like yeah I get what you are saying, but you could have used literally anything else to get the point across. I also didn’t like how she just kept pretending that she wasn’t pregnant or “forgetting” that she was pregnant. Like girl he is asking you to rest because you could be putting his baby that you are getting paid to carry at risk, and yourself. He ain’t trying to control you. 🙄

Also keeping your one friend gender a secret, not a good look, and Wyatt was absolutely correct when he said that she doesn’t work for Avery and that she didn’t need to show up every time he hit her up, until he is paying her, she is just “volunteering” and being used for free labor. I said what I said.

[pipperoni32-blog]

Nine Month Contract

by Amy Daws / 3.5 stars

I went back and forth with this one several times. There were parts I really enjoyed, and others I wasn't so big on.

After not finding what he was looking for with a traditional surrogacy clinic, Wyatt thinks he's out of options. Until his niece decides to find the perfect surrogate for him - with a helpful ad drawn up by his brother. This is too unhinged to ever work, and Wyatt has come to grips with never being a dad. After getting burned harshly, relationships aren't for him.

Everly is leaving for college soon, and she wants to do her best to make sure her uncles are happy before she leaves. This means it's time for a little matchmaking. She focuses on Wyatt first, and with the surrogacy ads, she's interviewing the women who respond to see if they'll be a good fit long term. When she meets Trista, Everly knows she's the one.

But Trista has her own issues with trust. She's never known a true family, so she's sure it will be easy to have a baby and collect the cash. When it comes with free housing, and a barn to keep the animal friends she tends to rescue, it's a perfect match. She'll have a start towards opening her own animal rescue once this is all over.

Despite Wyatt's grumpy warnings, his family is eager to meet Trista. Along the way, not only are sparks flying, but Trista is getting a glimpse at what a family looks like for the first time. Having people who would drop anything for you. She tries to remind herself that it's not for her, that she's just doing them a service, but the more time she spends on Fletcher Mountain, the more she wants to make a home there.

This is my second Amy Daws book, so I was expecting the spice - which is on the spicier side. I love the found family aspect - and the animals rescued along the way. Big families that drive each other crazy, but love each other unconditionally don't always come across as genuine, but the Fletchers do. One of the things I wasn't expecting was the language - it could be a bit overkill for me at times. Normally it doesn't bother me, and I find myself not noticing it here and there, but there was definitely a lot in this one, more so than Blindside I felt, the book I'd read previously by the same author. So be prepared for that, and make sure to mind the trigger warnings ahead of the time.

With all that said, I do want to see what happens with Calder and Luke. Calder's romance with Dakota has been introduced, and I want to see Trista get her animal rescue up and running. I feel like Daws is creating a bigger world outside of our main couple (something I felt in Blindside, though I jumped into a side story) and that's something I really enjoyed. Looking forward to the next one!

[impossibellebookrecs]

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Read 21/8/24-16/9/24

It is fine if you go into it wanting to read about the topic and take it all with a grain of salt. Got really tired of the cringy way things were written and the niece is so annoying, she’s really spoilt, entitled and too much in everyone else’s business.

[alyssalikestoreadbooks]

Nine Month Contract - Amy Daws

"I wanted to pummel my irritating brothers when they posted their own version of a wanted ad to help me with my life.

But I can’t fault the results once the right woman lands on my lap. Becoming a single father is not a decision I made lightly. In fact, it’s the biggest decision of my entire life. Which is why when I interview Trista, I know she’s perfect. She’s wild, she’s opinionated, she wears cowboy boots. Even my pet goat loves her… She’s the exact type of person I was holding out for.

And to my great horror, I realize on our first night of attempting this baby making dance…when the lights are low, the cheap wine is flowing, and the home insemination supplies are laid out on the kitchen counter… I want to do a lot more than just make her my surrogate. I want to make her mine."

Read Date - May 25th, 2024

Length - 358 pages

Genre - Romance, Contemporary, Plus Size

Rating - 6/10

Stars - ★★★☆☆

Notes - i should probably start off by saying that pregnancy is a special interest for my autism, so this book was CALLING for me. I NEEDED it, and i kept putting off reading it because i had so many books to read before this one. The writing style is very modern and can even come off a bit stiff at times, but im not mad about it. It corrects itself as the book futhers along, so the stiffness really comes off as New-Book-Troubles where starting off can be overwhelming with so many new characters. The way they proceeded about it was the stiff part but after introductions, its super smooth. They use the word Rizz more than once and i dont know how i feel about that. i think once the two finally move in and get in the process of planning and proceeding with the pregnancy, the book really starts to fill out. It wasn’t what i expected. i love the different twists and turns of the book, and the way it sets up the pregnancy. i think the romance building between the two is so sweet and i literally couldn't get enough of it, i was smiling so hard. i’ve never seen a possessive relationship written in a way that wasn’t completely toxic, and its clear to see that Wyatt has his own trauma in regards to women. I think its very well written, and gets the point across clearly for me personally. its very realistic without crossing boundaries. i think watching the both characters grow and move past their trauma’s is really important, and watching them both stop becoming controlling people its extremely interesting to watch take place.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

[ my review ]

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

i will get to those asks i just stayed up till 4 in the morning talking with my friends about anything and everything while stuffing our faces full of snacks. then woke up and 8. little has changed since we were teenagers but tbh just chilling for a night w mates is a damn good birthday party to me, and ive been surprised in advance with plans for lunch on my actual birthday<3 so anyway we didnt drink but i feel a lil hungover now<3

[elijah-loyal]

currently working on getting my shit figured out (the doctors have no fucking clue whats wrong with me)

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.]

A Christmas baby

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

Fluff jealousy childbirth angst

“Please come tonight, I really want to see you” Sarah spoke on the other end of the phone. You sighed brushing your hand over your nine month belly, the last thing you wanted to do was attend Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

You knew how much Sarah cared for you and how much she wanted you to be there but after having broken up with Joel just two months prior, it felt strange.

“My dad misses you” she spoke softly.

“I don’t know Sarah, there’s a lot-“

“Please just think about it, it’s Christmas. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

How were you suppose to resist? Besides Tommy inviting most of the neighbors and having nosey eyes on you, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

Since breaking up with Joel, you had seen him twice. You remembered coming out of your OB appointment and Joel sitting at the bottom step outside waiting for you. You hadn’t expected to see him there, especially being that he never made it to any appointments, constantly over booking himself at work. You remembered the arguments the two of you would have, sometimes you felt he overbooked himself on purpose to not deal with anything that had to do with the baby.

Maybe he had cold feet you thought, whatever it was it didn’t go well mixed with your hormones, your sensitivity at an all time high.

When you moved in with your sister Abby, Joel constantly called her to make sure you were ok. Every night you’d hear your sister on the phone repeating the same things over and over.

“She’s ok”

“I swear I’ll call you if anything”

“No shes not lifting anything heavy, Joel”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but crack a smile, Joel was always invested in making sure you had everything you needed but what you wanted more was his time.

Pulling up in front Joel’s house you could see the guests from the front window. A part of you second guessing what you were doing there, almost tempted to turn back. Then there it was again, a slow pain that kept coming and going from your lower back. This must be what Braxton hicks contraction’s were as the doctor had explained a week piror.

“You made it!” You suddenly heard from outside your car. One of the neighbors, Tilly spotted you just as she was about to go inside with her older brother Jim. Jim was a good friend of Tommy’s, Joel never seemed to be a fan of his, you never knew why.

“Guess I can’t escape now” you whispered to yourself before opening your car door.

“Here, let me give you a hand” Jim gave you his arm as you stepped out the car.

“You look amazing” Jim uttered low as you grabbed onto him. Not expecting his compliment you smiled.

“Thanks”

“That red dress looks great on you” Tilly exclaimed.

“Joel’s gonna be so happy to see you” she chuckled.

Anxiously walking to the front door, you stopped at the steps to adjust your dress.

“Don’t worry Jim won’t let you fall” Tilly whispered, excitement in her voice for her favorite day of the year. Just as you began to walk up the steps the front door opened, to your surprise Joel stepped out. Caught off guard he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, not expecting you to show up, much less holding onto Jim. You watched his eyes immediately turn to him, a stern look he couldn’t hide until Tilly’s high pitched voice distracted him.

“Joel! So good to see you!” He looked to her and gave her a nod, you could still see the disapproval he felt.

“Tommy’s makin’ drinks, ya got here just in time”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice” Jim made his way up the stairs with you before you thanked him and held your hands together awkwardly. Taking a quick glance at Joel you noticed him looking at you but you didn’t say a word, neither did he, until you were alone.

“I’ve been callin’ you” he stood against the door, cheers and laughter could be heard in the background.

“Abby told me” you spoke softly. His tongue sliding against his inner cheek, there was so much more he wanted to say, you could see it.

“How have you been feelin’?

His question making you finally look up directly at him. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, the one he knew you loved.

“Um-it’s getting harder to walk in certain shoes now” you chuckled showing off that you wore flip flops with your dress. Joel smiled, something he hadn’t done much of since you left.

“Oh my gosh you came!” Sarah’s voice made you both turn her way.

“Hey Sarah,” you smiled.

“Oh my- that red dress is so cute on your baby bump” she grinned with excitement.

“Thank you” you smiled brushing your hand over your bump making Joel’s eyes soften as he looked at you.

“Oh uh- I’m sorry for interrupting dad. I just-“

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m glad to see you excited” he assured her.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind I really need to use the restroom. I’m going every ten minutes now” you laughed before quickly and awkwardly excusing yourself to the back.

Coming out of the bathroom you gave Sarah your sweater and purse as you looked around the room to all the guests there, you honestly didn’t know where to put yourself.

“Look at you, I’m glad you showed up!” Tommy approached you with a Santa hat and beer in hand.

“How are you feelin’?” Tommy asked as Joel appeared beside him.

“Well my ankles are killing me, my back feels on fire, she’s constantly kicking me“ you chuckled.

“but other than that I’m fine” you sighed.

“Aw she’s just excited to meet her uncle” Tommy laughed as he leaned towards your belly.

“Ain’t that right lil’ niece?”

“Tommy” Joel uttered giving him a side eye.

“What? Just a few more weeks till we meet, I’m excited” he took a sip from his beer before being pulled away to dance. Joel and you stood beside each other, his arms crossed as he laughed at his brother before looking over at you.

“How about we get you a seat,”

“Um, it’s fine, I’d rather stay here plus all the seats are taken”

“So, I’ll get somebody up” Joel looked back at the full room quickly eyeing who he’d get the seat from.

“No, no it’s fine” as much as your ankles hurt, you’d rather have stayed away from everyone asking you dozens of questions.

“You wanna lay down in our room for a bit?” His question catching you off guard.

Our room.

“Thanks, Joel. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some water though, I am thirsty”

He nodded, his eyes remained on you longer than he meant to, drifting down to your dress laying perfectly over your baby bump.

“You look beautiful by the way”

Your heart skipping a beat from his words, you looked over at him.

“Thank you” you whispered before he walked into the kitchen.

Soon you noticed Mary and Lisa heading your way, two of the most nosiest neighbors you had dying to ask questions the moment you walked in. Those two women never seemed to know when to stop talking. Quickly turning towards the kitchen you walked off doing your best to avoid them when you heard a woman laughing in the kitchen. Silently stopping at the doorway you saw Maria with Joel, she was known for many things with men around the area, especially married men. Her hand on Joel’s shoulder as he held your glass of water in hand, you felt a jealousy you had never felt before.

“If it wasn’t for you driving me home that night, who knows where I would’ve ended up” she laughed as your heart sunk. It couldn’t be, Joel spent a night with Maria? Although you and Joel weren’t together, it was crushing to hear.

“Maybe you can drive me home tonight again…?” She spoke with a flirtatious voice as her hand creeped to back of his neck when you accidentally knocked something down beside you. Both of them quickly looking up, Joel realized you had heard everything but before he could say a word you quickly walked out rushing to grab your belongings from down the hall. Joel quickly put the glass down and pushed past Maria following you out as your heart raced with disbelief and hurt.

“Sarah where’s my stuff?” Your voice cracked as she looked up at you confused.

“In the room, are you okay?” You couldn’t respond rushing toward the bedroom as Joel quickly followed behind calling your name.

“It ain’t what you think-“ Joel appeared at the doorway slightly out of breath as you grabbed your sweater.

“Hey, hey-listen to me, baby” he rushed towards you trying to get you to understand him, desperation in his eyes, his hand attempted to grab your face.

“Don’t!” You screamed, tears building up in your eyes.

“The neighborhood whore huh?”

“No, dammit, listen to me!”

“No, you would-“ you suddenly stopped speaking as a sharp cramping like sensation took over you. Leaning forward you winced grabbing your belly, Joels expression instantly changing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He whispered, his hand reaching for your belly just as the wave of pain passed.

“Don’t” you shoved his hand away and took a deep breath. Getting yourself together you put your sweater on and grabbed your purse. Trying to walk past him he blocked your way, a look of concern he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave like this”

“Like hell you’re not!” You screamed, the music and the guests so loud nobody could hear you arguing.

“You can go continue your fun-“

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

“Too late for that” you aggressively put on your sweater.

“I didn’t do nothin’ with her! She was with Tommy, he passed out drunk in the car I was the only sober one so I drove. She got out the car went home and that was it, nothin’ happened between me and her”

“I don’t believe you” you shook your head as a tear fell from your eyes. You attempted to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“I ain’t lettin’ you drive like this-“

“What the hell do you care?! Go talk with Maria since obviously you have time for her but not our baby-“

“You know damn well that’s not true” he grabbed your wrists stopping you from pushing him aside.

“Let go of me!” You pulled your arms back just as another wave of pain took over. Quickly turning away you leaned against the wall.

“Ow-“ you cried out. The pain more intense than you had been feeling earlier.

Joel quickly coming behind you making sure you were okay, his hands on your waist.

“Come sit down”

“No, no…it’ll go away like it did earlier” you whispered in between breaths.

“What do you mean earlier?”

You stood silent as you slowly turned to him.

“What do you mean earlier?” He repeated himself sternly.

“It’s Braxton hicks, I had felt them last week and the doctor told me it was normal. I’m not dilated-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell!” You winced again from yet another wave of pain.

“I don’t think these are Braxton hicks, you’re getting them to close together, you’re having contractions“

“No I am not. Just leave me alone” you squeezed your eyes shut unable to speak.

“Stop being so damn stubborn, we’re gettin’ you to a hospital”

“No!” You whispered with a gasp just as Sarah ran in.

“Oh my god-“

“Sarah, tell uncle Tommy we’re goin’ to the hospital” he called out to her.

“Is she-“

“Yes” his voice somehow calm as he had you hold onto him.

“Oh my g- it’s getting worse” you whimpered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get in the truck now” he caressed your face.

“Is this actually happening right now” you whispered to yourself.

“I think so, baby”

Tommy ran to the truck with his Santa hat still on, opening the doors for you and Joel as the guests all watched on in shock.

“I don’t have my bag! My bag, Joel!”

“I’ll tell your sister to bring it” he buckled your seatbelt and closed the door rushing to the other side. Everyone watched as Joel sped off, each contraction becoming more intense you screamed in agony as Joel kept beeping the horn. If you weren’t so distracted with the pain you felt you would’ve seen how desperate Joel became with each sound you made.

“We’re here, baby. We’re here” the tires screeched as he made a hard turn into the lot.

Everything happened so fast, next thing you knew you were on the hospital bed being instructed to push. Joel holding your leg up, you cried feeling as if you couldn’t get through this.

“I can’t-“ you shook your head as Joel stood beside you, gently turning your head to face him.

“Look at me, yes you can. I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ no where, count with me” Joel began to instruct you with breathing and counting as the doctor prepped for the arrival of your baby.

After all the pain and chaos that occurred, it was all worth it. After the end of it all, you had fallen asleep and awoke to Joel humming Silent Night. Still feeling weak, you turned to see him looking out the window as it snowed. You smiled just as he turned and caught your eyes on him.

“I think she likes this song” he whispered making you laugh.

“You read the book” you spoke softly as he looked at you confused.

“The book I gave you about dads during birth”

He smiled with a nod.

“How else would I had known how to help you breathe through all that pushin’” turns out he listened much more than you thought he did.

“Mhm” your eyes began to uncontrollably close, you were exhausted.

“Get your rest, baby. I got her” without a word you quickly fell back to sleep as Joel looked down at his daughter with tearful eyes.

“The best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given” he kissed her forehead and continued humming the song..

Tags

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@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[kawowoa]

nine months

synopsis : texts between you and the jjk men during your pregnancy

characters : gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

info : fem!reader, fluff fluff n more fluff, swearing, slight spoilers in gojo’s ig if you even catch it, descriptions of pregnancies, talks of morning sickness in choso’s, and talks of contractions, petnames used : lovely lady, sweetheart, baby, girl, woman

a/n : was tempted to make a mpreg joke somewhere but i talked the demons out of it

[kleftiko]

❦ GIYUU X PREGNANT!READER

cw: none, this is fluff, fem!reader

"you have a wife?!" sanemi yelled.

"you’re lying." obanai mumbled. "that’s sad."

"tomioka, how sweet!" mitsuri called.

giyuu’s eyes narrowed at rengoku, the bright man just smiled innocently.

"i had no idea they didn’t know," he sheepishly said.

as soon as giyuu got back from his mission, the flame hashira informed him that his wife was in the butterfly mansion. something had happened, and she needed to be taken to shinobu. unfortunately, rengoku wasn’t known for being quite—blasted eardrums will do that to a person—so the other hashira in the perimeter got to hear (for the first time) that not only was giyuu NOT single, he was MARRIED.

they ended up following him through the halls, pestering him with questions until they reached the room you stayed in. your husband ignored them like usual, the only thing on his mind being your well being.

his nerves were calmed, however, immediately upon seeing you laying in bed, a smile on your face as you chatted with shinobu.

"how are you feeling?" giyuu’s tone was soft as he blocked you from the prying eyes of the other hashira in the doorway. he made his way towards your side.

"tired." you smiled at him, letting your husband hold your hand and run his thumb over your fingers. "shinobu said it was a false contraction."

"it was caused by stress," your friend’s calming voice said. "makes sense, tomioka, anyone married to you would be on edge."

your husband just grumbled at his friend as you giggled. he then helped you sit up in bed, the blankets falling off to reveal your pregnant stomach to the small audience watching.

"you had sex?!" sanemi screamed.

oblivious to the small mass of people staring at you, sanemi’s outburst startled you, causing you to grab onto your husband’s haori. he instinctively pulled you close, his soft look switching to a death glare towards the doorway.

"hush!" giyuu seethed at him, finally giving attention to the posse. "she’s nine months pregnant; shut up."

although listening and lowering his voice, sanemi didn’t let his question go unanswered. "you’re not a virgin?"

"go away," giyuu deadpanned. "all of you, go away. now."

"it’s okay, darling," you tried to soothe him. "maybe you should introduce me to your friends."

you felt him tense up at that. he didn’t let go of your hand, and he only moved half a step away from you (half of them still couldn’t see you), and he spoke with a monotone voice. "this is my wife, y/n. she’s pregnant with our first child."

the was no verbal reaction from the onlookers, just looks of disbelief from the four of them. it felt like you were an animal in the zoo with the way they were all staring dumbfounded at you.

it took a couple minutes for shinobu and rengoku to get the others out, leaving you and giyuu alone in the room. as soon as the door closed, your husband grabbed your face and peppered kisses all over it, causing you to giggle. he took a seat on the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

"i’m so sorry," he said, kissing your lips. "i’m sorry i wasn’t here."

"it’s okay, baby." you let your head rest on his shoulder. "i’m just glad i didn’t give birth."

"i would never forgive myself if i was gone for that." giyuu’s hand ran up and down your back comfortingly.

you sigh in relief, turning your head to place a kiss on his neck.

"well now that you’re here, let’s get this baby out of me."

[ponderingmoonlight]

HEYYYY so i dont really know if u write this stuff but i was wondering if u could do like toji/jjk men and their reaction when the reader goes into labour?? ❤️❤️

JJK men when you go into labor

Pairings: Toji x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Warnings: yk...birth, this is basically the same scenario for 3k words straight lol, never gave birth myself so idk if this is accurate 🥹

Toji Fushiguro

The day started like any other. Well, as normal as it can be when you’re nine months pregnant.

You are in the kitchen, trying to decide between a cup of tea or a snack, when a sharp, unmistakable pain shoots through your abdomen. You gasp, clutching the edge of the counter for support as the realization hits you with full force:

This is it. The baby is coming.

“Toji!” you call out, your voice trembling as another wave of pain rolls through you.

You hear the rustle of a newspaper being set down and the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching from the living room.

“Toji…” you try to keep calm, but the panic in your voice is unmistakable.

The man is a fortress, rarely showing any emotion beyond his usual stoic demeanor, but when he sees your expression, something shifts in his eyes. The usually cool, collected Toji Fushiguro is now all business.

Without a word, he’s right by your side, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to support you. His other hand comes up to gently tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“How long have you been feeling this?” he questions, his voice steady, though you can hear the underlying tension.

“Just started,” you manage to reply through gritted teeth.

Another contraction hits, and you instinctively grip his arm, digging your nails into his skin for support.

Toji doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he simply nods, assessing the situation with the same precision he would use in a fight.

“Alright. We’re going to the hospital now. I’ll get the bag.”

He guides you to the couch, making sure you are seated comfortably before he disappears down the hall. You can hear the faint sound of drawers being opened and closed, and within moments, he’s back with the hospital bag slung over his shoulder.

Toji lifts you into his arms effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to the car. His movements are quick but careful. And even though he’d never admit it, you can feel the tension in his body, a rare vulnerability in a man who’s usually so unshakable.

As he settles you into the passenger seat, he leans down, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You’re strong. You can handle this, babe” he mutters, his voice firm but with an edge of softness that he rarely shows.

The drive to the hospital is swift as usual, Toji weaving through traffic with the same precision he uses in combat. But his now soft hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin as if trying to soothe both your pain and his own worry.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

His jaw is set, the muscles on his neck visible tense. And yet his voice is calm, grounding you during your fear and pain.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Toji is all efficiency. He barks orders at the staff, making sure everything is ready for your arrival with all their attention on you. Despite the situation, his grip on your hand is firm, his presence unwavering while he stays by your side through every step.

In the delivery room, as the pain intensifies, you squeeze his hand to death, your nails biting into his now injured skin. Toji doesn’t do so much as flinch, his focus entirely on you.

“Breathe,” he reminds you whenever you need to hear it, his voice steady and commanding.

You manage to look up at him between contractions. And for a brief moment, you see something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

Fear.

It’s fleeting, quickly replaced by his usual determination, but it was there, a reminder that beneath his tough exterior and his sometimes sharp tone towards you, Toji cares more than he’ll ever admit.

As the contractions grow stronger, Toji’s calm exterior begins to crack. He isn’t panicking, but you can see the worry etched into his features, the way his grip tightened just slightly every time you cry out in pain.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but soothing.

“Just a little longer.”

When the final push comes and the cries of your newborn fill the room, you see Toji’s shoulders relax ever so slightly through wet lashes. When he looks down at you, a small and rare smile tugs on the corner of his usual so neutral lips. Those lips you’ll never get tired of kissing. Those lips who can be used as a weapon, those lips that do in fact hurt you from time to time. You know this relationship can be toxic, that Toji Fushiguro isn’t the definition of a dream husband.

But at this very moment, with glistening eyes set on you and that smile forming on his face, you can think of nothing else.

“You did it,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with something that almost sounds like awe.

When the nurse places the baby in your arms, Toji’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Get some rest, babe.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your new family and with your eyelids slowly but surely growing heavy, you see a side of Toji that he rarely let anyone see: a man who is strong but also deeply, fiercely protective of the people he loves.

Especially you.

Suguru Geto

The afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains when you sit on the couch, folding the last of the baby clothes that Suguru insisted on organizing earlier that morning. You smile to yourself, thinking about how fussy he was, making sure everything was in its place for the baby’s arrival.

You feel a twinge in your lower abdomen, brushing it off as one of the many discomforts that accompanied the last few weeks of pregnancy. But the pain returns just a few seconds later, sharper this time. Your face turns pale when realization hits you with full force.

This isn’t just another cramp. Those are contractions.

“Suguru…” you call out, trying to keep your voice steady as another wave of pain washes over you.

Panic starts to creep in, even though you try to push it down. You need to stay calm, need to make your way to the hospital to finally deliver that baby.

Suguru appears in the doorway almost instantly, his usually serene expression replaced with pure concern as he crosses the room to your side.

“What is it? Are you alright?” he asks with gentle and yet tensioned voice.

“I think it’s time,” you whisper, clutching your belly when another contraction hit, more intense than the last.

“I think… I’m in labor.”

Labor.

For a moment, Suguru’s eyes widen, a rare flash of panic crossing his features. But as quickly as it came, it vanishes into his usual calm composure.

He kneels beside you, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

“Alright,” he replies softly, his voice like a balm to your frayed nerves.

“We’ll get through this. Let me get everything ready.”

Suguru stands and moves with a quiet efficiency, grabbing the hospital bag and making sure you have everything you need. You watch him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who, despite the panic of the situation, is doing everything he can to keep you calm.

Until another contraction hits you like a truck.

He’s back at your side in no time, helping you to your feet with a gentle touch.

“Lean on me,” he instructs softly, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you while you make your way to the car.

The drive to the hospital is surreal. Suguru’s hand never leaves yours, his presence a constant source of comfort. He speaks softly to you the entire time, his voice a steady rhythm that you can focus on, grounding you through coming and going contractions.

“You’re doing amazing,” he repeats over and over, his tone filled with quiet admiration.

You try to focus on his words, his calm demeanor helping to ease some of your anxiety. Suguru is always the calm in your storm, the one who can bring you back to center no matter how chaotic things are. And now, when the reality of labor starts to set in, you are more grateful than ever for his steady presence.

When you arrived at the hospital, Suguru springs into action immediately, helping you out of the car and into a wheelchair with the same gentle care he always shows. He stays close as the nurses wheel you into the delivery room, his hand never leaving yours.

As the contractions grow stronger, you find yourself gripping his hand tighter, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Suguru is right there with you, his voice a constant source of comfort.

“Breathe, love,” he whispers, his tone soothing.

“You’re doing so well.”

Despite the pain you find yourself focusing on his voice, letting it guide you through each contraction. Suguru’s presence is like a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of the pain and chaos. He always remains close, his forehead resting gently against yours as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

“You’re almost there,” he murmurs softly.

“Just a little more, and we’ll meet our baby.”

As the final push comes, you could feel Suguru’s grip on your hand tighten, his breath catching in his throat while watching you bring your child into the world. Within the next second, the sound of your baby’s first cry fills the room, and the first thing you see are tears glistening in Suguru’s eyes.

“You did it,” he breathes out, his voice thick with emotion as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible.”

The nurse places your baby in your arms and Suguru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression softening as he looks down at your child.

“Welcome to the world,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love for that little creature that makes your heart swell.

Satoru Gojo

You are lounging on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, which honestly seems impossible at this stage of pregnancy. Satoru is in the kitchen, probably making another one of his infamous midnight snacks. The two of you spent the day preparing for the baby’s arrival, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen, stealing your breath. You hold onto your belly, realization dawning on you as the pain increases more and more.

“Satoru!” you call out, your voice laced with urgency.

Almost instantly, Satoru appears in the doorway, a sandwich in one hand and a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s up?” he asks casually.

But when he sees the expression on your face, his carefree demeanor falters in an instant.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I think… I think it’s time,” you manage to press out, your voice trembling as another contraction hits.

You see the color drain from his face for a split second before his usual grin appears bac on his face.

“Oh, it’s go time!” he exclaims, dropping the sandwich onto the counter and rushing over to you.

“Alright, don’t worry, babe. I’ve got this. I’ll just finish that sandwich later,”

You can’t help but laugh despite the pain.

“You…You really think about that sandwich now?”

 He helps you to your feet, his hands warm and steady as he guides you toward the door.

“Sure babe. Just breathe, okay? I’ll have you at the hospital in no time.”

He scoops you up with ease, carrying you to the car like you weigh nothing. As he settles you into the passenger seat, he is all smiles, though you could see the flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“You ready for this?” he questions, his voice filled with excitement.

The drive to the hospital is a blur of lights and Satoru’s voice, a constant stream of chatter meant to distract you from the pain and Backstreet Boys crying out of the radio. He weaves through traffic with an ease that only he can manage, glancing over at you every few seconds while humming.

“You’re doing amazing, babe. Just keep breathing.”

You squeeze his hand tightly, trying to focus on his voice as another contraction hits. Satoru’s grip tightens in response, and you can see the concern creeping into his usually carefree expression.

But he still keeps talking, trying to keep you calm with jokes, stories and boy bands, anything to make you smile.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Satoru is out of the car in a flash, helping you out and into a wheelchair with a surprising amount of gentleness. He holds your hand tightly as the nurses wheel you inside.

In the delivery room, Satoru stays by your side, his usual humor tempered by a seriousness you rarely saw.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face while you brace for another contraction.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Despite the pain, you manage a small smile. You, the strongest?

“No, you’re the strongest”, you press out.

He simply beams down at you while shrugging in a playful way. Satoru might joke around a lot, but in moments like this, you know you can count on him to be there for you.

As the labor progresses, you find yourself leaning on him more and more, his voice the only thing grounding you through the pain. Satoru’s grip on your hand never wavers, even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave marks.

“Just a little more, babe,” he purrs, his forehead pressed against yours as he helps you through the final push.

“You’re almost there.”

When your baby’s cries finally fill the room, you see the tension leave Satoru’s body all at once. He looks down at you, a wide grin spreading across his face, his eyes shining with tears he will never admit to.

“We did it,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

As the nurse placed your baby in your arms, Satoru’s hand comes to rest gently on the tiny head, his expression one of pure awe.

“Hey there, little one,” he hushes softly.

You looked up at him, tears in your own eyes when you see the way he looks at your child:

With all the love and devotion he usually tries to hide behind jokes and smiles.

In that moment, you know that Satoru will be the best father, just as he’s the best partner.

“Now…are you in the mood for a sandwich?”

“Babies aren’t allowed to eat sandwiches, idiot.”

Ryomen Sukuna

You are lying in bed like you did those pasts days, trying to ignore the discomfort nagged at you all day. Ryomen Sukuna sits across the room, his crimson eyes watching you with a mixture of boredom and curiosity.

He was never one to show much concern, but you noticed the way his gaze had lingered on you more often as your due date approached.

Then, without warning, a sharp, intense pain shoots through your abdomen, making you gasp. You clutch at your belly, the realization hitting you hard.

“Sukuna…” you manage to whisper, your voice strained.

He’s by your side in an instant, faster than you ever saw him move.

“What is it?” he questions, his voice low and dangerous, as if he’s ready to eliminate whatever was causing you pain.

“I think… I think it’s happening,” you press out, trying to keep your voice steady as another contraction hits.

“The baby is coming.”

For a moment, Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his usual arrogance replaced by something you can’t quite place.

“So, it begins,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

Without another word, he lifts you into his arms, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You’re not going to die from this, are you?” he comments, a hint of irritation in his voice, though you know him well enough to recognize the concern beneath it.

You manage a weak smile.

“No, I’m not going to die.”

“Good,” he mutters, his tone gruff as he carries you out of the room.

“I won’t tolerate weakness from the woman birthing my child.”

Despite his harsh words, you can feel the tension in his body radiating from his firm muscles, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly when you wince in pain. Sukuna was always a creature of power and control, and the fact that he can’t do anything to stop your pain seems to frustrate him.

How ironic.

He carries you outside, where a car waits - something he arranged without you even realizing it. Sukuna isn’t usually one to rely on human conveniences, but for you, he obviously made an exception.

“A car?”

“Shut up, brat. Teleporting us into the hospital might be too dangerous. I…I don’t know much about a pregnancy…”

“I can tell that.”

The drive to the hospital is silent, save for the sound of your labored breathing and the occasional growl from Sukuna when you tense in pain. He sits beside you, his eyes never leaving your face, watching you with an intensity that borders on obsessive.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Sukuna carries you inside, ignoring the shocked looks from the staff as he barks orders at them. His presence is intimidating, and no one dares question him as he demands the best care for you.

In the delivery room, Sukuna stays close, his usual arrogance tempered by something you rarely saw in him - worry.

“You’re stronger than this,” he tells you, his voice low and commanding as you fight through another contraction.

“You will not be defeated by something as trivial as childbirth.”

His words are harsh, but you can hear the underlying concern, the way his eyes soften ever so slightly when you cry out in pain. Sukuna was never one to show weakness, but in this moment, you can see that he’s in fact afraid. Afraid of losing you, afraid of something happening that he can’t control. Him, the king of curses, not in charge for this situation?

As the labor progresses, you find yourself relying on his strength, his presence a strange comfort in the midst of the pain. Sukuna’s hand find yours, his grip firm and unyielding, as if he tries to share his power with you, to keep you grounded in the storm of pain that washes over you.

“You will get through this,” he growls, his voice filled with an authority that doesn’t allow another argument.

“You are mine, and I will not let anything happen to you.”

When the final push comes, you can feel Sukuna’s grip tighten, his breath hitching as your baby’s cries echo through the room. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with something that might be shock. Or perhaps awe? You are too exhausted and filled with emotions to care.

“You did it,” he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks at the tiny, wriggling form in your arms.

“You really did it.”

For a moment, Sukuna is silent, staring down at the baby with an expression you’ve never seen before - an almost hesitant curiosity.

Slowly and hesitating, he reached out, his large hand resting gently on the baby’s dark head.

“This… is ours,” he mutters, his voice filled with a strange mix of pride and possessiveness.

You nod, tears filling your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Yes, ours.”

He might be the king of curses, a being of immense power and cruelty, but in this moment, he is also a father, and you know that he’ll protect you and your child with everything he has.

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[karvokr]

unscripted

it was all for show– until it wasn’t. now the lines are blurred, the feelings are real, and no one remembers who’s cast in what role.

pairings: actor!gojo x actress!reader x actor!geto content warnings: mdni, smut and angst, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), infidelity/cheating themes, love triangle, fake dating/pr relationship, secret relationship, they did NOT rehearse their lines series masterlist • episode 2 >>

S1, E1: casting call

You sign the contract on a Wednesday.

It arrives in your inbox under the subject line: “CONFIDENTIAL.”

A PDF. Nine pages long. Paragraphs of stipulations, contingencies, and conditions dressed up in PR language so pristine you almost laugh. Coordinated appearances. Joint interviews with dates staggered across press cycles. Exclusivity clauses for red carpet events. “Spontaneous” candid moments approved in advance. At least four public outings a month. A shared stylist to align aesthetics without making it too obvious. No real intimacy, but enough illusion to stir the right kind of attention.

At the bottom: “Duration: Minimum 6 months. Option to renew through awards season.”

Your name is already typed in the signature line, blank and waiting.

It’s ridiculous. A fake relationship designed to sell a real story– two beautiful leads, off-screen romance bleeding into on-screen chemistry, timed just right to catch the eye of the Academy. It feels like theater. Like marketing dressed in Dior and Versace.

Your publicist says it’s “industry standard,” and your agent reminds you that an Oscar doesn’t just happen. It’s built.

And Suguru Geto is a very good brick.

So you nod. Sign. Smile.

The next morning, you wake to two calendar invites and a wardrobe fitting already on the books. Friday is a blur of meetings– PowerPoints, color swatches, talking points, binders stacked with everyone else’s expectations. You’re poked, pinned, and polished into someone just glossy enough to photograph well. Saturday is quieter, technically free, but your nerves don’t get the memo. You feel it in your chest, in your skin– the stillness before something begins.

By Sunday, Suguru Geto is your boyfriend– on paper.

It’s not like he’s a stranger. You met him once– briefly– at a film festival in Toronto. It was years ago, before your first major role, before the PR teams and stylists and publicists started forming a protective wall between you and the world. You were still wide-eyed, still watching everything like it was a dream you’d wake up from. The kind of version of yourself that lingered too long at open bars and felt guilty for answering questions during panel Q&As.

Suguru was already someone then. Not yet a household name, but he was well on his way– fresh off a Cannes nomination and a string of indie shoots that made critics go quiet in their chairs. You knew him the way everyone in that circle did: respected, rumored, slightly haunted. He carried himself like someone older than his age, like the world had already tried to take something from him and failed.

You ended up in the same green room by accident. He was tucked into the corner of a velvet couch, thumbing through a paperback that looked older than both of you. Everyone else was networking, talking too loudly, smiling too hard. He wasn’t. He barely looked up when you walked in, but when he did, he blinked like he recognized you– from the festival lineup, probably– and offered the barest, quietest nod.

You’d been introduced by someone else– your manager at the time– and it was awkward. His handshake was warm but brief. He said your name like he didn’t want to forget it. And he was polite, thoughtful, soft-spoken.

But mostly, he seemed tired. Not rude. Just spent. A little hollow around the edges. Like he was doing his best to stay upright in a space that wanted too much from him.

You remember liking that about him. Not the weariness, exactly, but the honesty of it. There was no fake smile. No attempt to charm you. Just a quiet man in a crowded room who didn’t pretend he wasn’t drowning in it.

You’d watched him from across the room later that night at a private party. He leaned against the balcony railing, lit cigarette forgotten between two fingers, eyes unfocused like he was somewhere far away. When he laughed at something someone said, it was sudden. Soft. Real. You’d only heard it once, and it had stuck with you.

The festival ended. You moved on.

You didn’t think you’d ever get close to him– not because he wasn’t interesting, but because men like Suguru Geto didn’t orbit close to people like you. He existed on a different rung. Quiet, unreachable, curated by some invisible machinery you hadn’t yet learned to navigate.

And besides, you didn’t think you’d want to. At the time, you still believed in real chemistry. In relationships built on off-camera glances and unspoken moments. You thought PR couples were hollow. Manufactured. Maybe even sad.

That version of you didn’t know anything yet. She didn’t understand how useful illusion could be.

So when they first floated Suguru’s name– your team, the studio, the awards consultants already plotting headlines and camera pairings– it felt surreal. Distant. Like a ghost reaching back from a past life.

You were already flipping through moodboards and shoot schedules when they said it. “We’ve spoken with Geto’s team. He’s open to it.”

Open to you.

The version of him you remembered didn’t do this kind of thing. He didn’t fake romance for the press. He didn’t post birthday selfies or tweet cryptic captions about breakups. He was… reserved. Controlled. Private.

And yet here he was. Signing the same contract you were. Ready to stand beside you in softly blurred photos, his hand on your waist like it belonged there. Willing to laugh at your red carpet jokes, low and close enough that the cameras could catch it– but not close enough to be real.

The first staged outing is in West Hollywood. Lunch. Alone. Private– but not private enough to escape the paparazzi’s watchful lenses, peeking through bushes and around street signs. But it’s shaded, the espresso is good, and Suguru is already waiting when you arrive.

He stands when he sees you.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t overact. Just offers a gentle smile, takes off his sunglasses, and says: “Hey. You look… perfect for the role.”

There’s a pause. He lets you laugh.

You press your cheek to his in greeting. A soft brush. His palm grazes your waist. You smell cologne– cedar, bergamot, maybe vetiver. It lingers on your dress after you sit.

The cameras click in the background, but it’s easy to ignore. For a little while, it feels like lunch.

You talk more than you thought you would. He asks about your last film– not the big one, the little indie one that barely got distribution. You’re surprised he’s seen it.

“It stayed with me,” he says, stirring sugar into his coffee. “The way you didn’t say anything in that scene by the river. That kind of stillness is hard to find.”

You blink. Most people missed that scene entirely.

When you compliment his recent performance in a war drama, he winces a little. “Too loud,” he says. “Too much grit, not enough meaning. But thank you.”

It’s rare, you think, to meet someone so deliberate. He listens. Really listens. He’s not trying to impress you. He’s not trying at all.

And that makes it easier to relax.

The lunch ends. He walks you to your car, lingering just long enough to let his hand graze your arm– not for the cameras, not to garner buzz for the movie. Just to steady you in heels. A small gesture. Unremarkable, maybe, to anyone else. But it feels intentional.

You think maybe it’s just how he is. Quietly thoughtful. Present without pressing. Almost caring, but in a way that never risks anything.

You don’t hear from him the rest of the day. Not the next morning, either.

But late the following night, just as you’re settling into the kind of silence that feels too big for the room, your phone lights up.

Suguru [11:12 PM]: Are you awake? Suguru [11:12 PM]: If not, don’t worry.

You stare at the screen for a moment– thumb hovering, heartbeat heavier than it should be.

Then you call him. It rings twice.

Then his voice, low and unguarded: “Hey.”

You sit back in bed, tuck the phone against your shoulder. “Hey. Sorry, I just saw your text.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t sure if I should bother you. It’s late.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Silence stretches– not awkward, not tense. Just quiet.

You hear a door shut on his end. Something rustling. Maybe a blanket. Maybe a cigarette box. You imagine him in some hotel suite somewhere– dim light, half-buttoned shirt, bare feet on cold tile.

“Rough day?” you ask.

Suguru breathes out. “Long. Not bad. Just… hollow.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I get that.”

Another silence. This one more personal.

You don’t know why it’s easier to talk to him like this– through a line, without his eyes on you. Maybe it’s because there’s no script here. Just the two of you, drifting closer in the dark.

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy this,” he says eventually.

You blink. “The… PR thing?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint creak of a mattress. “Figured it’d be fake. Cold. But you’re… not.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. You tuck your knees up under the blanket. “You’re not what I expected either.”

“Oh?” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice, just a hint.

“I thought you’d be more–”

“Arrogant?”

“I was going to say distant.”

He hums. “Maybe I still am.”

“You’re here, though,” you say. Quiet. Honest. “Talking to me at midnight.”

“That’s true.”

You listen to each other breathe for a few seconds. It’s strange how comforting it is– the intimacy of being heard without having to perform.

“You don’t have to be anything with me, you know,” you say softly. “Off-camera, I mean.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quietly, “that’s the hard part. You make me want to get to know you.”

Your chest aches a little at the way he says it. Not fragile, but resigned. Like someone who’s used to being alone in rooms full of people. Beautiful, adored, unreachable.

“I don’t mind you,” you say, teasing just slightly.

He laughs, just barely. You wish you could see it.

“You’re easy to like,” he murmurs.

You feel warmth creep into your throat, your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for a moment, it’s just that. The softness. The space. The two of you suspended between pretending and something that might not be.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say eventually.

“Looking forward to it.”

You hesitate. “Suguru?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you texted.”

Another pause. This one full. 

“Me too.”

You hang up a minute later. Your phone lights up again after a few minutes. A photo– from him. A blurry one. Just your feet next to his on a sidewalk after lunch. You hadn’t even noticed a camera had caught it.

Suguru [11:46 PM]: This one feels real.

You stare at your phone longer than you mean to. Then you type: “Maybe it was.”

You don’t send it. You just watch the words sit there– half-formed, unfinished– like a secret only you know.

The next day, you're both scheduled for a surprise sighting at a bookstore in Silver Lake. The type of place where the press just happens to catch you with your fingers brushing over the same dog-eared copy of some retro novel no one’s actually read.

But Suguru gets there early. You spot him near the poetry section, tucked into a quiet corner chair like he was born to inhabit silence. There’s a book in his hands and a pair of wire-framed glasses balanced on his nose. He doesn’t look up when you walk in.

He looks up when he feels you.

You crouch beside his chair, the hem of your coat brushing his shin, and he smiles at you like he knows something you don’t.

“Tell me that’s not just for the cameras,” you say, eyeing the book.

“It isn’t,” he replies, closing it gently. “But I wouldn’t blame you for assuming.”

You end up sitting across from him on the floor, backs leaned against the same bookcase. No photographers yet. Just you and him and the faint smell of old paper and something woodsy lingering on his coat.

He reads you a line from the book– something Rilke, something sad– and doesn’t flinch when you look at him too long after. Neither of you says anything about how close your knees are. Or the way he looks down at your hand like he’s memorizing the shape of it.

Another night, it’s a low-profile dinner. Outdoor patio, dim lighting, no press invited this time– just a couple of phones in the hands of distant patrons who might or might not realize who you are.

Suguru orders for both of you without asking. You let him.

You talk about dumb things. Favorite comfort foods. Least favorite roles. He tells you about a movie he almost did, then didn’t. You tell him about the one you regret turning down. When dessert comes, you end up sharing it.

He doesn’t touch you. Not once.

But his knee brushes yours beneath the tablecloth, and he doesn’t pull away.

You wonder if he notices how close your breath gets when you laugh.

There’s a photoshoot the day after. Joint promotional spread. All silk and soft light and posing like your arms fit naturally around each other’s waists.

At one point, you’re positioned facing him, chests almost touching, eyes locked.

“Closer,” the photographer says. “Tilt your face toward him, not the lens.”

You do.

Suguru’s breath is steady. So is yours. But something in the air between your mouths feels like a wire strung too tight.

The shutter clicks.

Later, he shows you a shot on his phone. One no one else has seen yet. Your face is turned toward him. His eyes are on you, not the camera.

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you for a second longer than he should, and then locks his phone.

You text more than you mean to.

Mostly in the late hours. He sends you half-thoughts. You send him blurry photos of your takeout. He sends you voice notes when he's tired– one of them is just him humming something you don’t recognize.

You listen to it three times before you place it– Erik Satie, maybe. One of those pieces that feels like a memory you forgot you had.

You [12:03 AM]: you always sound like you're somewhere else when you talk at night Suguru [2:14 AM]: Maybe that’s the only time I’m anywhere at all.

There’s one afternoon where it rains unexpectedly and you're both caught leaving a meeting in Midtown. No umbrella. Just the two of you ducking into a covered alley behind a hotel entrance, laughing like you’ve been running through puddles your whole life.

He’s soaked. You’re worse. Makeup smudged, hair plastered to your cheeks.

He takes off his coat and gives it to you without thinking.

“No cameras,” you whisper, curling into the warmth of it. “You don’t have to play the part.”

He glances at you, a drop of rain sliding from his temple to his jaw. “Maybe I want to.”

You don’t answer. Not out loud.

But when the valet pulls up and you climb into separate cars, you realize the smell of his cologne has already settled into the lining of your sleeves.

A few days later, you’re on the rooftop of a downtown hotel for a fashion house pre-party. Your heels are too high. Your dress is too sheer. And the wind is just aggressive enough to ruin every shot the team set up.

You step aside to fix your hair and find him standing by the railing, holding a glass of whiskey and watching the skyline like he’s trying to memorize it.

When he sees you, he doesn’t say anything. Just lifts the glass in a lazy toast. You walk over.

“Cold?” he asks.

“A little.”

He shrugs off his jacket. Drapes it around your shoulders.

You both stay there a while– saying nothing, not moving. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like pretending.

Then comes the gala, and it’s all polished surfaces and curated light– a sleek event for the casting reveal of the film you’re starring in with Suguru and the opportunity to go officially public as Hollywood’s latest co-star couple.

You stand beside him for photos, and his hand settles against your back like it belongs there. Warm. Steady. Measured down to the inch.

He leans in between flashes, voice low and careful, whispering little things to keep you calm. 

“You’re doing great.” 

“Don’t lock your jaw– just breathe.” 

“You’re a natural, stop stressing.”

It doesn’t sound rehearsed. It sounds like he means it. And for a moment, you let yourself believe he does.

And then, like a needle skipping over a record, the elevator dings. The air changes. A new energy enters the room like a shift in temperature. Like a spotlight without a switch.

Satoru Gojo walks in– late, unbothered, and dressed to be looked at. White tux. Shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sunglasses dangling from the bridge of his nose like he forgot they were there. He’s in the movie too, but everyone knows he’s better suited for chaos: tabloid rumors, non-committal nights out– the kind of press you can’t plan for.

You? Tied to someone like that? No one would’ve bought it for a second.

He looks at Suguru first. Smiles like there’s history in it. Something private. Sharp-edged.

Then he turns to you.

And suddenly, the room feels too small. Too loud. You’re hyper-aware of everything– how your body holds itself, how Suguru’s hand rests on your waist, how close you are, how visible it all is.

Like just standing there, being touched by someone else, is enough to offend Gojo. Like your posture alone is a challenge he’s already accepted.

But you don’t realize what’s shifting– not yet.

Not until he starts walking your way. Not until he says your name like it tastes good. Not until the weight of his gaze makes you feel like the scene has already started– and you missed your cue.

thank you for reading! <3 ily

comment to be added to the taglist: @twilightsumu

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ9 MONTHS AFTER * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N's and Matt's babies are finally born after 9 long months of waiting; OR, where Matt is finally a dad.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Pregnancy, crying, mentions of labor, pain.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The contractions hit Y/N like a tidal wave, her breath catching in her throat as she gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles turning white. The pain radiated from her lower back, wrapping around to her abdomen in tight, relentless waves. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

They had been waiting for this moment for nine long months, and yet, now that it was here, the reality of it was almost overwhelming. She tried to call out for Matt, her voice wavering, but the pain was so intense that it felt as if it was squeezing the sound right out of her.

Matt was in the living room, his eyes glued to his laptop as he reviewed some emails. It had been a busy few weeks leading up to the due date, and he was trying to get ahead of things before the twins arrived.

The sound of Y/N’s voice, strained and filled with pain, cut through his concentration like a knife. His head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat. He leaped from the couch, knocking his laptop to the floor, and sprinted into the kitchen, his heart racing with panic.

"Honey? What’s wrong? Is it- oh God, it’s happening, isn't it?" Matt’s voice was a mixture of excitement and sheer panic as he reached her side. He placed a gentle but trembling hand on her back, his eyes wide with concern as he watched her struggle to breathe through the contraction. "Breathe, baby, breathe. Do you need water? No, wait- sit down. Should you sit? Or should you lie down? Oh my God, I should call 911!"

Y/N squeezed his hand, her face scrunched up in pain, but she managed a breathless laugh.

"Matt, relax... it’s okay. Just-" She interrupted her own sentence when a new wave of pain invaded her whole body.

"Come here, sweetheart." Matt gently guided Y/N to the edge of the kitchen chair, his expression shifting from sheer panic to a momentary calmness, trying to ground himself in the situation.

He knelt down in front of her, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on her knees. His eyes, wide with worry, locked onto hers as he tried to steady his breathing.

"How long has this been going on?" His voice held a perfect mix of calmness and nerves, the gravity of the situation starting to dawn on him. He reached out instinctively, his hand gently resting on her stomach, feeling the tension in her muscles.

"Oh God, I don’t know." Y/N replied, wincing as another contraction hit, this one even stronger. She grasped Matt's hand tightly, her grip involuntarily squeezing his fingers. "Maybe an hour or so... but it’s so much worse right now."

Matt’s eyes widened, the shock and concern evident in his expression. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

"Okay, okay, don’t panic." His voice was a bit firmer now, though a subtle tremble betrayed his nerves. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring as he looked deeply into her eyes. "We need to time these contractions, okay? See if they’re far apart or getting closer together..."

Y/N nodded weakly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to focus on his words. Matt quickly grabbed his phone, fumbling with it slightly as he opened the timer app. He sat back on his heels, his eyes darting between the screen and Y/N's face, waiting for the next contraction to hit.

When it did, she squeezed his hand again, and he hit the timer. They both watched the seconds tick by, the silence in the room only broken by Y/N's labored breathing. The contraction passed, and Matt stopped the timer, noting the time with a furrowed brow.

"Okay, that was... three minutes." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked up at her, his heart pounding in his chest. "We’re close, Y/N. We need to get you to the hospital now."

He helped her to her feet, moving with a newfound urgency but still managing to maintain a steady calmness, knowing he had to be strong for her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her as they made their way out to the car, his determination stronger than ever.

He opened the passenger door of their car, gently easing her into the seat before rushing to the driver’s side.

"Matt, the... the bag."

"Right! The bag!" Matt practically yelled as if suddenly remembering the concept of bag. "I'm gonna be right back, baby!"

He darted back to the house, running around the kitchen like a man possessed, searching for the hospital bag they had packed weeks ago. He spotted it by the door and grabbed it, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to get back to Y/N.

"Here, I’ve got the bag! And... what else? Do we need snacks? Maybe you want something to eat before we go?"

Y/N's response was a groan as another contraction hit, stronger this time.

"Okay, no snacks, got it. We’re going to the hospital now, I promise. I’ll get you there, Y/N. I won’t let anything happen to you or the babies, okay?"

As he started the car, his mind raced. He had planned for this moment, had rehearsed it in his head a thousand times, but now that it was happening, he felt completely unprepared. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he glanced over at Y/N, who was trying to remain calm despite the pain.

Matt hated seeing her in so much pain, his heart aching with every sharp intake of breath she made.

"Okay, okay, we’re going. We’re going." He muttered to himself as he pulled out of the driveway, his voice a mix of determination and barely contained panic. The streets of Los Angeles blurred past them as he sped toward the hospital, his mind racing with all the things he needed to do.

"Siri!" He suddenly barked at the car’s dashboard, his voice urgent. "Send a text to Chris and Nick."

"What would you like to say?" Siri responded in its calm, robotic tone.

"Um... Uh..." Matt hesitated, trying to form a coherent sentence as he glanced nervously at Y/N, who was breathing heavily beside him. "Tell them... we’re on our way to the hospital. Y/N's in labor. Get there by tomorrow morning. And don’t panic like I am because... just get there!"

"Sending message to Chris and Nick." Siri confirmed, and Matt let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he continued driving.

Y/N chuckled softly, despite the pain, and Matt shot her a quick, incredulous look.

"What? What's funny?"

"You are." She managed to say between contractions. "You're... adorable when you're freaking out."

Matt’s face flushed as he gave her a sheepish grin.

"I'm just trying to keep it together here, baby. You’re the one doing all the hard work."

"Trust me... I know." She replied, wincing as another contraction rolled through her.

Finally, they pulled up to the hospital entrance, and Matt jumped out of the car, nearly forgetting to put it in park in his haste to get to Y/N's side. He waved frantically at a nurse standing nearby, who immediately came over with a wheelchair.

"She's in labor! It's happening! We need to- she needs- help!" Matt's words tumbled out in a rush as he helped Y/N into the wheelchair, his voice rising in pitch with every word.

The nurse smiled reassuringly, clearly used to panicked fathers-to-be, and guided them inside.

"Don’t worry, we'll take good care of her. Just follow me."

As they were whisked away to the delivery room, Matt's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of what was about to happen. He couldn't believe that in just a few hours, they would finally meet their babies.

Once in the right room, Y/N was settled onto the bed, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as the contractions intensified. Matt stayed by her side, clutching her hand as if it was his only lifeline. He leaned in close, his voice trembling but filled with love as he whispered,

"You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes locking onto his.

"I need you to stay calm, okay? We've got this... together."

Matt nodded, swallowing hard as he brushed a few strands of hair from her face.

"Together. I’m right here with you, every step of the way."

The room buzzed with activity, doctors and nurses moving around with practiced efficiency, but all Matt could focus on was Y/N’s face, her eyes squeezed shut as she battled through another contraction.

Time seemed to warp in the delivery room. Minutes stretched into hours, the pain of each contraction relentless, only broken by brief moments of respite. Matt stayed by Y/N’s side, his voice soft and steady as he encouraged her, even though his own nerves were frayed to the core. He watched the monitors anxiously, every beep and flicker, causing his heart to jump.

"Matt." Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion as another contraction hit. "I can’t... I don’t know if I can do this."

Matt’s heart broke at the sight of her so vulnerable, so exhausted. He took a deep breath, brushing a few strands of hair away from her sweaty forehead and leaning in close, his lips brushing her temple.

"You’re the strongest person I know." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You’ve got this, baby. I’m right here with you. And in the end, everything will be worth it, yeah?"

Hours later, after what felt like a lifetime of labor, the doctor finally said the words they had been waiting to hear.

"It's time to push."

Y/N gritted her teeth, her entire body trembling with the effort as she bore down, Matt’s hand in hers, his words of encouragement a constant in the whirlwind of pain and exhaustion. The room seemed to close in around them, everything else fading away as they focused on bringing their babies into the world.

"Breath." Matt murmured, his hand gently rubbing her tense shoulders. "Just focus on your breathing. In and out, slow and steady. You got this, sweet girl. It's almost ending."

The first cry shattered the tension in the room, a tiny wail that echoed in Matt’s ears like the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He watched in awe as the doctor carefully lifted their first baby - a tiny, wriggling girl - into the air.

Time seemed to freeze as the nurse quickly wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to Y/N. Matt felt tears well up in his eyes as he looked down at his daughter for the first time. She was perfect, with a shock of dark hair and rosy cheeks, her eyes squeezed shut as she continued to cry.

"She’s beautiful." Y/N whispered, tears streaming down her face as she cradled their daughter against her chest, gluing her small head to her chin. Matt leaned down, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, his own tears finally spilling over.

But the moment was short-lived as Y/N was hit with another wave of contractions. The doctor quickly reminded them that there was still one more baby to bring into the world, taking their daughter away from them so Y/N could concentrate.

"One more, honey. Just one more. You can do this. You're so strong, I know you can." Y/N, though exhausted, steeled herself for the final round, and with Matt’s unwavering support, she pushed again.

Minutes later, another cry filled the room, this one just as heart-wrenching and beautiful as the first. Their son was born, his tiny fists clenched as he wailed with the full force of his little lungs.

"I don't... I don't know how to hold- Oh, okay." The nurse placed him in Matt’s arms, ignoring his sentence. He stared down at his son in awe, his arms trembling with fear of holding him in the wrong way, or worse, dropping him.

The baby boy was the spitting image of his sister, with the same dark hair and tiny features, though his cries were slightly less intense.

"He's... he's so small." Matt whispered in awe.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he carried his son over to Y/N - who was already holding their girl again -, his heart swelling with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. He gently placed their son in Y/N’s free arm, and for the first time, they looked down at their twins together, their hearts filled with an indescribable mixture of joy, relief, and pure, unconditional love.

"We did it." Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she looked up at Matt, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They’re here, and they’re perfect."

Matt could only nod, his throat too tight with emotion to speak. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his daughter’s tiny forehead, then his son’s, feeling the warmth of their little bodies against his skin. They were so small, so fragile, and yet so full of life.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The next morning, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds of the hospital room, casting a warm glow over the quiet scene. Y/N was resting peacefully, her exhaustion from the previous night’s labor evident in the serene expression on her face as she slept. The twins were nestled in their bassinets beside the bed, their tiny chests rising and falling in a synchronized rhythm, the only sounds in the room being their soft breathing.

Matt sat in the armchair near the window, his eyes moving between Y/N and their newborns, a small smile playing on his lips. He had hardly slept, but he didn’t mind. He was too filled with wonder, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he was now a father to two perfect little beings. The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on him, and every time he looked at his family, his heart swelled with a mixture of pride and overwhelming love.

Just then, a soft knock on the door drew Matt’s attention. He stood up quickly, careful not to disturb Y/N, and opened the door to find Nick and Chris standing in the hallway. Both of his brothers looked a little disheveled, their hair slightly messy from a night of restless sleep. Chris held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and Nick had a stuffed animal - a small bear with a yellow bow - tucked under his arm. The moment they saw Matt, their faces broke into wide grins.

"Hey, Dad." Nick joked softly, giving Matt a one-armed hug while still holding the bear. "How’s it feel?"

Matt chuckled, the sound low and full of affection.

"Surreal." He admitted, stepping back to let them in. "Come on, they’re right over here."

Chris was the first to approach the bassinets, his breath catching as he looked down at the sleeping twins. He placed the bouquet on a nearby table, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out, but then hesitated, as if afraid to disturb the peaceful scene. Nick followed, standing beside him, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of his new niece and nephew.

"They’re so tiny." Chris whispered, his voice cracking as he looked over at Matt, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Oh, my God, Matt... they’re so small."

Nick nodded, his usual bravado momentarily stripping away as he gazed at the twins.

"Yeah." He added, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "How is this possible?"

Matt felt a lump form in his throat, seeing the raw emotion on his brothers’ faces. He watched as Chris finally let out a shaky breath and reached down, his fingers gently brushing against his niece’s tiny hand. The touch seemed to undo him completely, and within seconds, tears spilled over, streaming down his cheeks.

"Chris." Matt said softly, his voice full of understanding as he placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. "It’s okay, man."

But Chris couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, he just nodded, tears continuing to fall as he stood there, overwhelmed by the sight of his niece and nephew. He had always been the emotional one, the heart-on-his-sleeve brother, and in this moment, he felt everything with an intensity that was impossible to contain.

Nick, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain his composure. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. He wanted to be strong, to keep it together, but seeing Chris break down and knowing just how much this moment meant, even he couldn’t hold back completely. He let out a shaky breath, wiping his eyes quickly.

Matt noticed Nick’s struggle and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It’s okay to cry, you know." He said quietly, his own eyes misting over. "They’re your niece and nephew. This is a big moment."

Nick managed a small, watery laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Matt grinned, pulling both of his brothers into a tight hug. The three of them stood there for a moment, embracing each other, their silent bond stronger than ever before. When they finally pulled away, Chris wiped at his eyes, sniffling a little as he turned back to the twins.

"Can we hold them?" Chris asked, his voice still shaky but filled with awe.

"Of course." Matt replied, his heart warming at the thought of his brothers meeting their niece and nephew properly. He carefully lifted his son from the bassinet, gently cradling the tiny bundle before handing him to Chris. "This is your nephew." He said, watching as Chris took the baby with the utmost care, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world.

Chris’s breath hitched as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

"Hey, little guy." He whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m your Uncle Chris. You’re going to be so loved, I promise."

Nick took his niece from Matt, holding her close, his eyes wide with wonder as he gazed at her tiny features.

"Hi, princess." He murmured, his voice soft. "I’m your Uncle Nick. And don’t worry, I’ll always have your back. You’re in good hands."

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, but when the little girl's tiny hand grasped his finger, Nick’s composure slipped. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears, but a few escaped, trailing down his cheeks.

"They're perfect... You and Y/N did good, Matt."

Matt felt his own eyes sting with tears as he watched his brothers, their love for his children evident in every trembling breath, every tear they tried to hold back.

"They really are." He whispered, his voice filled with pride as he watched his brothers bond with their niece and nephew.

The soft rustling of sheets drew Matt’s attention back to the bed, and he saw Y/N slowly stirring, her eyes fluttering open. She looked groggy, her movements sluggish as she tried to orient herself.

"Matt?" She called out, her voice hoarse and weak, a faint frown creasing her brow as she tried to sit up.

Matt was by her side in an instant, his hand gently brushing her hair back.

"I'm here, baby." He said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "The babies are right here, and Nick and Chris are with us."

Y/N’s gaze shifted to where Nick and Chris stood, each cradling a baby in their arms. Her eyes softened, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she saw them.

"Hey, guys." She murmured, her voice raspy but filled with warmth.

"Hey, Y/N." Chris replied, his voice thick with emotion as he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding the baby boy close to his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I’ve been hit by a truck." Y/N joked weakly, managing a small laugh despite her exhaustion. She reached out for Matt, her eyes pleading for his help. "Can you help me sit up? I want to hold them."

"Of course." Matt said, his voice tender as he gently supported her back, helping her sit up against the pillows. He adjusted the bed to make her more comfortable, his movements careful and precise, always mindful of her comfort.

Once she was settled, Y/N looked at her babies, a rush of love flooding her system. Chris carefully handed her their son, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he watched Y/N cradle the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby boy squirmed slightly, his little face scrunching up as he nestled into Y/N’s embrace, and Y/N felt her heart melt at the sight.

"Hi, sweet boy." Y/N whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks as she pressed a soft kiss to her son's forehead. "Mommy’s here."

Nick, still holding their daughter, hesitated for a moment before offering her to Matt, a silent question in his eyes. Matt nodded, and Nick carefully placed the baby girl into his brother’s arms. The little girl yawned, her tiny fist curling up near her face, and Matt felt his heart swell with a fierce, protective love as he looked down at his daughter.

"She's got your eyes." Nick teased softly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"And her nose." Chris added, his voice still wavering with emotion.

Y/N smiled, looking at Matt, who was gazing down at their daughter with such love and awe that it made her heart ache in the best way. She could see the tears in his eyes, the overwhelming emotion that he was trying so hard to keep in check, and it made her love him even more.

"It's like I've waited my whole life for this moment."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Ready?" Matt asked, his voice soft as he looked over at Y/N, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she gazed back at him.

"Ready." She whispered, her voice steady, filled with a quiet determination.

They walked up the path of their house together, Matt balancing his baby boy in one arm while Y/N held onto his other arm. The front door, painted in a cheerful shade of brown, seemed to welcome them home as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of home - fresh linen, a hint of lavender, and the comforting smell of wood - washed over them as they crossed the threshold.

Matt paused in the entryway, taking a deep breath as he looked around. Everything was exactly as they had left it, but now it felt different, infused with the anticipation of this new chapter.

"Welcome home, little lovies." Y/N whispered, leaning down and brushing her lips against her daughter’s small head covered by her light pink beanie.

Matt led the way, his steps slow and deliberate as he carried their son into the living room. He paused in the center of the room, turning in a slow circle as he looked around.

"Look, little guy, this is where we'll spend most of our time together." He said softly, his voice taking on a warm, inviting tone as if he were talking directly to the babies. "Right here, in this room. We'll have family movie nights, and you’ll play with your many toys on the rug... and when you’re a little bigger, we’ll build forts with blankets and cushions."

Y/N followed him, her heart swelling with love as she listened to him talk. She could see it all so clearly in her mind; tiny feet pattering across the hardwood floor, peals of laughter filling the air as they chased each other around the coffee table, and sleepy cuddles on the couch after a long day of playing. It was the life they had dreamed of, and now it was finally real.

"And this." Matt continued softly, leading Y/N out of the living room and down the hallway to the master bedroom. "Is Mama and Dada's room."

He pushed the white door open, revealing the room they had shared for a year now - after they moved in to their own shared house -, now feeling so much more significant with the addition of their new roles as parents. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed and arranged just the way Y/N liked them, and the soft curtains billowed slightly in the breeze from the open window.

"This is where you’ll come when you need comfort." Matt said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at their son, still cradled in his arms. "Where you'll crawl into bed with us on stormy nights, or just because you want to be close. And we'll always be here, waiting to hold you, to keep you safe."

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Matt, her heart overflowing with love for him, for their children, for the life they were building together.

"They’re so lucky to have you as their dad." She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "And I’m so lucky to have you as my partner in this."

Matt’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes filled with the depth of his love.

"I'm the lucky one." He murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "I get to spend my life with you and our beautiful babies. I don’t think I could ever ask for more."

Leaving the bedroom, Matt led them to the one right by the side, stopping in front of a door that had been carefully painted in soft pastels. He pushed it open gently, revealing the nursery inside. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon sun, and the soft colors of the walls and furniture created a peaceful, serene atmosphere.

"Now, this is your room." Matt said softly, his voice full of pride and love as he stepped inside.

He carefully set the bag that was held by his free arm down on the plush rug in the center of the room, turning to Y/N as she entered behind him.

"We've spent so much time getting it ready for you." Y/N muttered, her eyes shining as she looked around the room.

"That's right. This is where you'll sleep, where you'll have sweet dreams and where we'll sing you lullabies every night. Also, where your mama is going to read all those cute little stories every day."

Y/N carefully placed their daughter in the crib, brushing her fingers over the soft white blankets they had chosen with so much care. She looked around the room, her heart swelling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of love.

"It’s so beautiful." She whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she looked up at Matt, her eyes lowering to her baby boy still on his arms, his big blue eyes now appearing smaller with the heaviness of sleep that dominated them. "They’re going to be so happy here."

Matt’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining as they stood together, looking down at their tiny daughter, who was already drifting off to sleep in the crib.

"We all are."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

I also wrote it while listening to a really beautiful brazilian song about pregnancy. I'm gonna let it right below so yall can listen to it and see the translation through Spotify! 🩷

© vanteguccir

[no-144444]

When are we getting more playing favourites? I’ve read it like 3 times now and can’t wait for more!

firsts- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries, smut! (in this chapter) 18+

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve more to come...

Your hotel room was quiet. Eerily so. 

“We’ll get through it,” he shook his head, pacing the room. “We have to.”

“Oscar,” your voice broke, arms wrapping around your legs as you sat at the top of the bed. His head snapped to you, eyes wide with panic. “We can’t fight them.”

He crossed the room and sat beside you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you, smoothing down your hair. “We have to,” he whispered. “We will.” 

“And what can we even fight them on?” you whispered, a tear falling. “Unlawful termination? That’s not going to get you a contract with them again. I need to start fighting my contract. I need to get to Aston Martin-”

“You can’t win a championship with Aston-”

“Why would I ever want to win another championship without you?” You questioned, a confused look on your face. He stopped for a moment. Did you really mean that? You’d give up a championship for him. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut and hugged at the same time, and he didn’t know what to do other than kiss you. You kissed him back, just as desperate, as if you were searching for an answer to your impossible situation. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much,” and he kissed you again. Oscar was acutely aware you’d never said you loved him back, but he felt it. He felt it in the way you stuck to him like glue. How you always took time to make him a hot chocolate when you made your coffee. How you listened to him talk and talk, all the fucking time. How you spoke to and spent time with his family. How you kissed him. How you’d give up a championship for him. 

A thousand thoughts at once ran through your mind, you’d both been teetering on the edge of this for months. Those heated kisses and borderline explicit touches, and yet you’d never done anything really. You wanted the first time to be special, and I guess it doesn’t get much more special than realising you’ll have to either fight a lawsuit or work out of different garages. You pulled at his hoodie, signalling that you wanted it off and he pulled back, eyes wide. “Are you-?”

“Are you okay with-?” 

You both stared for a beat, then chuckled. “You go first,” you offered, heat crawling up your cheeks as you watched him blush. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, sitting back. “And if you do, just remember we can pull the plug anytime, right?”

You nodded, biting your lips. Why did this feel humiliating? “I’m sure,” you looked down, then back up at him. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He could barely hide his smile, though he did try, and it just made you laugh. “I’m pretty fucking sure,” he nodded, and pulled off his hoodie. It always shocked you how fit Oscar was. Like obviously, he’s hot, you have eyes. And you two always work out together, so you know he’s strong, it just doesn’t register in your head that Oscar would be so built. You smoothed a hand down his chest, letting your eyes explore as he watched you, an amused smirk on his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, throwing his hoodie off the bed as you chuckled. 

He leaned over and kissed you again, his hands venturing under your hoodie and holding your hips with a kind of care you’d never felt before. You froze. He noticed and pulled back immediately. He didn’t want to fuck this up. He didn’t want to make this awful for you. He wanted this to be one of the only ‘firsts’ in your life that wasn’t tainted by something bad happening, not after your first win. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ve never… done this before,” you admitted. “I’m kind of… scared.” 

He shrugged. “That’s alright,” he smiled. “We can take it slow,” he offered. “Or not at all.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I want to do it. Maybe, just slow, if that’s alright?”

He nodded and reached out a hand to take yours. “We’ll take everything at your pace, yeah?”

You smiled at him and nodded, lunging up to kiss him again. You loved kissing Oscar. It was so simple, but so lovely. Something so intimate about it too. 

His hands reached the bottom of your hoodie and he pulled back for a brief second. “I’m going to take this off, is that alright?” 

You nodded quicker than you thought you were, and held your arms up for him. Now you were in a bra and a pair of his boxers as sleep shorts. You could feel the slight chill from the open window, but felt the heat radiating off of Oscar even more. You shivered as he kissed you again. 

“Is this alright?” he asked through kisses, his left hand gently making its way into your underwear. His voice was deep, deeper than you’d ever heard it. It was hot. He was hot. You nodded, pulling him down by his hair so you could kiss his neck. The second his fingers made contact with your clit, your brain short-circuited. You let out a moan as he started with soft circles, gently touching you, testing the waters. If the way you were writhing beneath him was any indication, he was doing a good job. “Feels good?”

“Yes,” you whined, closing your eyes as he sped up his movements. You tried to continue with your assault on his neck, but your body was just so focused on what was happening between your legs. “So good.”

He slowly pushed a finger into your cunt, and you gasped. He chuckled lightly. “You’ve never played with yourself?” he questioned, his voice low, like it was a dirty secret. You shook your head, looking up at him as you gripped at the back of his neck, grinding onto his hand. “Fuck,” he groaned, biting his lip. “You’re so beautiful.”

You involuntarily whined at his words, making him chuckle yet again. You looked away, embarrassed, but he used his other hand to pull your face back. He kissed you gently, a smile on his lips. “You’re doing great, baby,” he whispered. “You just focus on how you feel.”

You nodded, following his instructions, feeling everything he was doing to you. It was maddening, the soft circles, the way he spread you out for himself, his voice, everything. Slowly, pressure began to build in your stomach and your grip tightened. He noticed, because of course he did. His fingers moved faster. “Close, pretty girl?” He didn’t need an answer to know he had guessed correctly when you tightened your grip again, and moaned straight into his ear, the noise going straight to his cock. “Alright?”

“Holy shit,” you whined, your hands cupping his cheeks. “I’ve been missing out,” you joked, and he laughed, dropping his head against your chest. 

“Yeah, you have,” he chuckled. “But we’re here now. Are you alright to keep going?”

Though you were tired, you nodded, not wanting this to end. He slowly took his hand out of your pants, you hissed at the loss of contact and he genuinely didn’t know how long he would last if you kept making those noises the way you were, and how your nails had been digging into his back. He’d never guessed he’d be into being scratched, but it felt good. Anything with you felt good. “Okay, I’m going to take these off now then, is that alright?” He asked, his hand at the edge of his your boxers. 

You nodded. This was the moment. This was it. “Yes.”

He slowly pulled them down your legs. You sat up (to his surprise) and his mouth actually watered as you pulled off your bra. Fuck. How was he going to get through this without cumming in his pants? He quickly pulled off his shorts and underwear and grabbed one of the complimentary condoms the hotel had in every room (he’d chuckled at it originally, mentally joking about how he’d never use it, how wrong he was). He caught a glimpse of your face, your jaw was dropped. 

“What?” he questioned, panic in his voice. 

“You’re huge,” you admitted, not even realising what you were saying, just staring at his dick and wondering how the fuck he was supposed to fit. He smirked. Ego = boosted.  

“It’s kind of average, no?” he questioned, trying to hide his smirk as he blushed. Granted, he knew he was above average, but not by much- anyway, he moved on to the important thing. “I’m going to push in slow, alright?” he told you, and you nodded. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am, are you?” you asked, taking his hand. He liked this. The gentleness. The softness. 

He smiled. “Better than alright.” 

And he slowly pushed in. He was huge, filling you so much so you thought you could feel it in your lungs for a moment, after a moment to get used to the stretch, he started moving, and god, it was euphoria. Why had you never had sex before? Why had you never fucked Oscar before? He was so sweet, so perfect, so… him. 

“You doing alright?” he checked, slowly moving in and out of your dripping pussy. Your breath stuttered with every thrust, and he could see the way your eyes glossed over as you focused only on the sensation he was providing. It gave him more motivation to not cum. He had to make you feel good. 

“Perfect,” you said, breathless, right before a particularly hard thrust pulled another moan out of you. His lips lowered to your neck as his thumb started gently rubbing over your clit, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Gotta stay a bit more still baby,” he grunted, placing his hand on your stomach, holding you down. Your hands went to run up and down his back, moaning into his shoulder as the sensation built, hot and heavy in your stomach for the second time that night. “Let go whenever you’re ready, I want you to cum for me.” 

Fuck he was hot. Like, really hot. He changed the angle, somehow getting deeper than before, and you almost screamed. He chuckled, kissing you again. “Osc, I-I’m going to cum-”

“Cum for me, please baby, cum all over my cock,” he had a filthy mouth. As he picked up the pace, so did his grunts and small whines, they were music to your ears, making you tighten around him. “Come on baby, all over my cock.” 

And you did. “Fuck! I love you,” you rushed out as your body spasmed, cumming on his cock. His jaw dropped and he started moving quicker, racing to get to his own high. 

He did. “I love you,” from his lips like a mantra. He stilled inside you, pushing in as far as he could and cumming in the condom, your name on his lips. 

You stayed like that for a moment, your eyes closed as your pussy contracted around him, him on top of you, closer than you’d ever been. “Fuck,” he breathed out, pulling out of you as you hissed at the overstimulation. “Are you alright?” he asked, sitting up beside you, disposing of the condom in the bin beside the bed. 

You were exhausted, but more than happy. You nodded. “Better than alright,” you cracked a smile, turning to him. You weren’t nervous, being naked in front of him. You weren’t scared of what he’d say. You trusted him, utterly and completely. 

“You said you love me,” he chuckled, emotion building in his throat and behind his eyes. “Did you mean that?”

You reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him down to kiss you again. “I love you,” you whispered. He nodded. 

“I love you too,” he smiled. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking your hand in his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled. “And we’ll fix this.”

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omg i have either a jack abbott/dr robby idea where his wife is a nurse in labor and delivery and is pregnant herself and is called down to the ER to help a patient deliver their baby. and then his wife goes into labor herself right after they wrap up the case!! so cute

Double Shift

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Nurse!Reader

You were eight months and three weeks pregnant. Not that you were counting.

Technically, you were still on duty—light rotations only, per hospital policy—but your belly had other ideas. You’d started waddling instead of walking three days ago. Your compression socks were a second skin. And even the L&D nurses had started side-eying you every time you clocked in.

Still, when the ER called up for backup on a woman about to deliver without prenatal care, you didn’t hesitate. You slid on your coat and waddled your way to the elevators, radio in hand.

“Where’s Nurse Abbott?” someone shouted when you arrived.

“Right here,” you said, brushing your hair back, cheeks flushed. “What do we got?”

Dr. Collins gave you a rundown, but you were already locking eyes with the patient—young, terrified, crowning fast. Instinct kicked in. You pulled gloves on, barked orders like muscle memory. Jack always joked you were the real boss around here, and right now? He was absolutely right.

Forty sweaty, heart-pounding minutes later, a baby cried into the air. You handed the little girl to the mother, heart swelling as the woman sobbed with joy.

That’s when the cramp hit.

It wasn’t a Braxton Hicks. You knew Braxton Hicks. This one curled low in your pelvis and grabbed your spine on its way out. You nearly doubled over.

“Okay,” you muttered. “Okay, nope, we’re good, we’re—shit.”

Someone noticed. “Nurse Abbott? You okay?”

“Get me a wheelchair,” you huffed. “I think I just clocked out.”

By the time Jack burst into the ER, wild-eyed and still in his scrubs from surgery, you were gripping the side of a gurney, muttering curses between contractions.

“You weren’t even on the floor,” he snapped, running to your side. “You were supposed to be resting!”

“I was helping!” you groaned. “It was one delivery! One very complicated, very crowning delivery!”

Jack looked like he might strangle someone. “Of course you would go into labor helping someone else give birth.”

You flashed him a weak smile. “I’m just on brand like that.”

He laughed, half in awe, half in panic. “Jesus, I’m not ready.”

“You’ve had nine months to get ready, Jack.”

“And you had two hours left on your shift!”

“Then let’s call this poetic timing, huh?”

He kissed your forehead, hand gripping yours tight as the team wheeled you upstairs.

“Poetic timing,” he echoed. “Alright, Nurse Abbott. Let’s meet our kid.”

The lights in the labor and delivery suite were soft. Calming, allegedly. Not that you noticed — your teeth were grinding, your back felt like it had been split open, and Jack Abbott was hovering.

“You’re breathing too fast,” he said gently, wiping sweat off your temple with a towel. “Come on, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your—”

“I swear to God, Jack,” you panted, eyes wild, “if you quote Lamaze at me one more time I will suture your mouth shut myself.”

He smiled, but there was real concern behind it. His hand curled tighter around yours.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured. “So great.”

A nurse at your feet — someone from your own floor, which only made this more surreal — nodded. “We’re almost there. One more big push, Nurse Abbott.”

“Y’hear that?” Jack said, eyes glassy now. “Almost there.”

You gave him a look. “I live here. I know how far we are.”

Still, you bore down. Screamed into your teeth. Clutched Jack’s hand like a lifeline.

And then—

A rush of sensation. A sudden quiet.

Then the sound. That piercing, staggering, perfect sound.

Your baby’s first cry.

You sagged back into the pillows, tears slipping from your eyes before you realized they were falling.

Jack was standing frozen, stunned. Eyes locked on the baby the nurse was already bringing over.

“It’s a boy,” the nurse whispered.

Jack blinked. “A boy?”

You smiled, dazed and exhausted. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I just… it’s real now.”

You reached for him, voice soft. “Hey, Dad.”

That finally cracked him.

He bent over the bed and kissed you, long and slow, hand cradling your face like you might disappear.

When the nurse placed the baby on your chest, Jack pulled the blankets around you both with trembling fingers, then sat beside you and stared like he was watching the sunrise for the first time.

“Look at him,” you whispered.

Jack didn’t take his eyes off the baby. “He’s perfect.”

“He’s stubborn,” you mumbled. “He already made me go into labor two hours before shift change.”

Jack huffed a soft laugh, brushing a finger over the baby’s impossibly tiny hand. “So… just like his mother.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, content for the first time in hours. The three of you breathing in sync.

Jack looked down at your son, then at you. His voice was low, reverent.

“You delivered someone else’s baby… and then delivered ours.”

You smiled.

“Double shift.”