#also I realised this was supposed to be a fluff prompt and I totally wrote it angsty so I'm sorry lena

[pajarinwrites]

you could ask

➳ fem!reader x Dino

➳ wc: 2.7k

➳ TAGS: pwp; fluffy smut, smutty fluff MDNI, my dudes; it's so sweet tho kjsdiasejnasd

➳ WARNINGS: fucking(?) it's super fluffy though; fingering (f receiving), kissing, marking, petnames (babe, baby for her)

➳ AN: i continue to surprise in that dino is my least biased member except now that i wrote this, he might not be anymore; he's such a cutie ugh; also this RAN! AWAY! FROM! ME! it started as a drabble but 2.7k can under no circumstances be classified as a drabble. also there initially was supposed to be piv sex but then it got too long. i'll definitely write a continuation one-shot for this ugh. anyway, ENJOY!

also that's my fave photo of channie

You look up from your phone as your friend enters the lobby. He has his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, wearing the usual cap, mask, sunglasses combo in public, in an effort to remain unrecognised.

“Hey,” you greet with a soft wave. He pulls off his sunglasses to reveal eyes crinkling with smiles. “Hey!” He replies back, pulling you into a short hug before calling the elevator.

“How was practice?”

“The usual. Except Hoshi-hyung was hungover.”

“Huh?” You ask, sure you must’ve misheard him. Chan laughs in reply.

“Yeah, he filmed that program with Youngji yesterday that you like watching.”

“And he didn’t tell me?” You ask in mock affront, one hand resting on your chest dramatically. Chan shrugs. “I guess he assumed I’d tell you. But I forgot.” He sticks his tongue out to you as you follow him to his apartment.

You pass Vernon and Dokyeom in the kitchen; they wave to you in greeting before you follow Chan into his room.

“Leave the door open, children!” Dokyeom screams after you, prompting your friend to scream a dry hahaha back and slam his door all the harder. “They’re not even funny,” he pouts, dropping onto his bed where you’ve already gotten comfortable.

“Ugh,” he groans as the climbs up to the headboard next to you. “What’s wrong?” You ask, looking at his tense expression.

“It’s fine, practice just kicked a little harder than I thought.”

“Are you still up for movie night? We can just move it if you’re too exhausted.”

“Of course not! I always have energy for you.” He smiles softly, scooting closer, resting one arm on his headboard behind you as if it did nothing to him. You cleared your throat, trying your hardest not to shuffle so he wouldn’t feel obligated to move his arm away again.

“What’ve you got saved on your laptop?” He asks as you pull it up and open Netflix.

“I mean, I’ve been dying to watch the Scream remake for a while…” You know his stance on horror movies. As expected, “ugh! Can’t we watch something cute and cozy that won’t make me pull a muscle from jump scares!”

“Unfair argument! First you say you’re up for movie night and when it comes to picking a movie you bring up the issue of your sore muscles!”

“Well I can’t just make ‘em magically disappear.”

“But you got to pick the movie the last, like, three times!”

“I’m not saying you can’t pick. I’m just saying pick a different one!”

“Nuh uh, I want this one.” He groans again, rolling his head.

“Okay, then what will you do about my sore muscles?”

“Me? Do you want me to massage your sore muscles for you? Since when are your sore muscles my fault or problem?”

He grins, and with how close his face is to yours, it’s doing all kinds of things to your heart. “If you want to watch Scream so bad, it is your problem…”

Oh, so that’s how it is, you think, realising he never expected you to make good on any muscle relief. Lee Chan knows damn well you hate massages unless you’re on the receiving end. The amount of times he’s given you one eclipses the times you have returned the favour, a grand total of zero times.

“Sure,” you smile sweetly, setting your laptop back down on the floor next to Chan’s bed. He stares at you, eyes wide as saucers. “Huh?”

You remove his arm from your shoulders and get up, motioning for him to lie down. If your best friend wanted to play a game of chicken with you, he absolutely could.

“Also, you obviously gotta take your shirt off.”

Instead of moving, Chan is sitting still as a statue, still staring at you as if your hair had spontaneously changed colour. You wondered if this was really all it was going to take but eventually he shuffles down on the bed. He shrugs off his tee and you pretend like you aren’t surreptitiously looking him up and down.

“Okay, but you gotta do it properly, “ he states as he rests his head on his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You inquire as you get into position, positioning your left knee beside Chan’s body and swinging the other over so that you are straddling his butt.

“Just that you can’t quit after five minutes, and you can’t do it all softly.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement, “elbow grease.” Chan giggles in response, but it turns into a groan as soon as you dig your thumbs into the tops of his shoulders.

“You really aren’t holding back, huh?”

“I’ve been ordered to give it my all,” you reply, bearing down on one especially tight trapezius. Chan’s breath stutters under your ministrations and you’re glad he can’t see your face heat up. As your hands wander lower you feel like he’s tensing up more instead of less.

“Hey, relax,” you instruct, “this was your idea.”

Chan grumbles something into his pillow in reply but it only takes him a few more minutes and a few sounds that veer suspiciously into moan territory before he shrugs you off forcefully.

You let out a yelp of surprise as you flop down on the mattress next to him. “What was that for?”

“You did enough, we can watch your silly movie now.” He avoids your eyes and you can see that his face has turned red, but you try to blame it on the heat of the room and the fact that you just treated him like bread dough for fifteen minutes. As he sits back up against the headboard, he pulls the blanket over himself, his hands in his lap awkwardly.

“What are you doing?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Preparing to be scared to death,” he replies with a chuckle you believe was supposed to be light-hearted.

“It’s okay, I’ll protect you. You can hide behind me if you get scared,” you offer graciously. Chan rolls his eyes. “Just start the movie.”

You pull up your laptop and snuggle into your friend’s side. Chan fluffs up his pillows, one behind your back, one in his lap, and welcomes you into his arms again. You’ve watched movies in this position before, but today you’re restless. Chan seems to exude extra body heat today, and maybe it’s your wild imagination but his workouts have really started to pay off, and the feeling of his biceps pressing into your side distracts you more than you’d like to admit.

You stopped watching whatever is going on on screen several dozen minutes ago when you finally clear your throat. You’d been sneaking glances over at Chan for a while, his uncomfortable shifting, the suspiciously placed pillow. You had a hunch when he shrugged you off him earlier but the longer you sat next to him, having to endure his endless shuffling, the more convinced you were. Of course, you weren’t entirely unbothered by his presence either. The glimpse of his naked chest and back hadn’t left your mind, although you were hard-pressed to admit, that that sight had been the reason for your inability to focus. 

“It’s a little boring, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” He asks, turning his frightful eyes from the screen. You hit pause.

“The movie, Chan.”

“Boring isn’t the adjective I’d use, but sure. We can definitely watch something else.”

“We could do something else.” You smirk, shifting so you can face him fully. Bless him, his expression betrays nothing but confusion. He opens his mouth to ask what you’re on about but you beat him to it.

“Chan,” you sigh, “is this going to be a repeat of Seungkwan’s birthday party?”

“Huh?” He asked. But the fact that he had turned a shade redder let you know that he was very aware of what you were talking about.

“You know, when we were in the kitchen alone and you leaned in and I was waiting for you to finally kiss me? But then you chickened out the last second and pretended you had just wanted to grab the vodka from behind me?”

Chan blinks at your, your words evidently not quite processed yet. “You wanted me to kiss you?” You rolled your eyes.

“For someone with such a big head, you can be pretty stupid, you know that?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? I can’t read your mind.” You lean in closer - resting your hand on his thigh - and take delight in the way his breath hitches.

“You can always ask.” You whisper. He moves in even closer, the pillow sliding off his lap and letting you see that you were right about your prior assumption. You bite your lip at the sight of the obvious tent in his sweatpants.

“Can I kiss you?” Chan asks, bringing your attention back to his face. He’s gorgeous, you think, in the half-light of his bedroom, his hair unstyled, his eyes shining. But he really isn’t going to budge if you don’t answer, it seems. “Yes, please,” you breathe.

His lips are on yours, softly, as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. His right hand is cradling your cheek. It makes you smile, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him down with you. Chan let’s out another groan, catching himself with his left hand next to your head instead of letting his full weight crash into you, which coincidentally happens to be exactly what you wanted. You nudge his hand away, hoping for him to get the hint. Much to your chagrin, he pulls back, panting against your lips.

“What—“ you mean to ask but don’t get around to it when you see the dark, almost desperate shadow in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” His gaze drops to your lips, he’s nipping at your lower lip, making his way down your jawline. You manage to hold out on him until he reaches your pulse point, attaching his lips to the sensitive skin and nibbling at it in a way that’ll definitely leave a mark makes you whimper. Right now you couldn’t care less.

“Chan,” you moan, “please…” You can feel him smirk but he complies with your unspoken wish, continuing his way downward.

“Can I take this off you?” He asks, tugging at you shirt. You look down at his eyes, blown out and looking at you like you created the universe.

“Only if yours comes off too,” you say, meaning to tease him. His shirt’s over his head and at the other end of his room before you can blink. “Better?” He smirks, usually you’d be careful not to stroke his ego too much, but right now all you can think about it tracing every ridge on the expanse of his body with your tongue. It’s so much more fun when you can look freely. It must show on your face because Chan leans forward, whispering, “You can eat me up later, baby. Right now it’s my turn.” You have half a mind to hold back your whimpers at the tone of his voice but at the end you’re just a human, not some saint, so you stand no chance against the carnal vices of the flesh.

Chan takes off your shirt so skilfully that a very unwelcome thought of possessiveness flashes through your mind but with how he looks at you (very much not like you threw on your oldest, most comfy sport bra) the evil little voice in your head stands no chance. There can’t be any lingering doubt over his feelings with the way he undresses you slowly, deliberately, with all the care in the world, makes you think he mistook you for a fragile piece of art. His eyes say the same, casting glances at your face again and again, questioning; like he’s ready to drop everything if you so much as breathe a word. You have to commend him, especially with how evident the tent in his sweats has been for the better part of this evening.

“Chan,” you whine, ripping him out of the worship of the skin on your tummy. He looks dazed already. “Please stop teasing.”

He smiles, “Am I teasing you? Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to. You’re just so beautiful.”

You want to tell him off for being a sap but he starts kissing a straight line downwards from your navel and your words are caught in your throat.

His hands skitter up your thighs, making you shiver as he finally presses a digit to your core. He groans, “So wet for me already, love, you’ve soaked through your panties.”

“Looks like you have to take them off, then.” You smile and he obliges easily. It seems he’s really had enough of the teasing because he presses his thumb to you clit immediately, circling it. You moan his name as he slides one finger through your slick, “wanna touch you too.”

“Later, baby. Let me focus on you for now. Can I keep going?”

You mumble a pathetic Ohmygod yes please, that earns you a soft chuckle from him. He wastes no time in sliding a finger into you. Chan moans at the feeling of you wrapped around his fingers.

“Shit, babe,” is all you get out of him before his mouth is back on your skin, kissing up the insides of your thighs as he stretches you out on another finger. “Wanna come on my fingers, love?” You don’t trust your voice right now, so instead you nod vigorously. He stops testing the waters as his fingers and thumb speed up, spreading a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. He shifts his weight upwards and is hovering over you, never ceasing the motion of his fingers.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

“If you don’t, I’m leaving right now,” you barely manage to breathe out between pants. From the way Chan smiles at you, you can tell you must look at least as fucked-out as you feel. He chooses not to tease you and you silently thank him for it. Instead he just leans in, meeting your lips in a manner that is nothing like the soft, innocent kisses from before. He pushes his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth as if he wanted to taste all of you. Just at that moment his fingers find that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You moan into the kiss, prompting him to mirror your sounds. Chan doesn’t let up on that spot, speeding up and hitting it again and again and again until the pressure becomes to much and the knot in your stomach snaps. He fucks you through your orgasm, leaving soft pecks all over your face until you’ve calmed down.

“Feeling better?” He asks. You’re forced to watch as he retrieves his fingers from your pussy, putting them in his mouth instead and licking them clean. He hums comfortably, “you taste so good, babe.”

You’re still staring at him, wide-eyed, trying to make sense of why the sight of your best friend licking his fingers clean of your essence is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He notices your state and his brows furrow.

“Hey, are you okay?” There’s real worry in his voice, so you nod in reassurance.

“I was just thinking that if this what I get for massaging your sore muscles a little, I’m definitely gonna start doing it more often.”

His eyes widen. “You wanna do this more often?” The disbelief in his voice makes you laugh in earnest. “Of course, in case you couldn’t tell, I had a lot of fun.” You’re unsure of your next sentence, but if you don’t say it now, you fear you’ll say it never, “and I like you. A lot.”

He has the dopiest grin on his face as he leans back down, giving you another sweet kiss. “In that case, let me take you out on a proper date before we do this the next time.” You cock an eyebrow.

“Chan, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” The man in question blushes, avoiding your eyes. “If that’s something you also want…”

You look at his expression, hopeful gaze lifting to catch yours. There’s a blush lingering on his cheeks, his hair all mussed up. You’ve never felt more comfortable with another person.

“Of course,” you reply, snaking one arm around his middle and pulling him close, “I’d love that, actually.”

[amberjazmyn]

how did you not notice?🫶

pairing : daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, platonic f1 grid x fem!reader

summary : based on my two prompts: "oh my gosh, eww, you peed on that... wait, are you serious?" and "you fucking peed on that and you made me touch it!", the f1 grid, girlfriends and wives find out that gianna and daniel, are pregnant with their first child.

warnings : fluff, pregnancy announcement, swear words

a/n : decided to write a happy pregnancy one for danny ric after the depressing pregnancy/miscarriage fic that i wrote! i promise this time this one is pure fluff! and reader's name is like mentioned in the summary, gianna <3

gianna couldn't believe her eyes. for maybe, almost close to a month into the f1 season, she hadn't been feeling too well, causing her to have to take certain races during the season off and other times have to watch it from hospitality so she wouldn't feel sick in the paddock. it scared gianna some that she couldn't figure out why she was so dizzy, lethargic, tired and nauseous but it wasn't until she caught up with kelly, max's girlfriend, her husband's former teammate and her best friend during a break in the race season that everything seemed to make sense to the younger girl. 

"...gianna, you okay?" kelly's voice had suddenly come through gianna's ears again and she maintained eye contact with the older brunette

"hmm? yeah, i...i'm fine kelly, just....i...i am so sorry, i'd truly love to stay longer but, i just forgot about some errands i got to run for daniel! can we raincheck lunch for a later date?" gianna seemed in a hurry, rummaging through her purse for a twenty pound note for the coffee and kelly didn't want to prolong her lateness, nodding her head enthusiastically 

"oh, of...of course, babe, don't even apologise! we can totally take that raincheck for a later date! stay safe and, i hope you get better soon!" kelly smiled sympathetically after the girls talked about gianna's symptoms and that was how kelly found out she was pregnant with her little girl penelope, which ultimately got gianna in a sprial without the woman fully realising it or intending it 

"thanks so much, kelly and, i'm always safe, you know that. especially considering who my husband is!" gianna chuckled, her angelic laugh making kelly giggle too as they joked about daniel, gianna's husband, fellow driver and former teammate of max 

"of course, i was just making sure!" kelly called out as the two ladies walked their separate ways to their cars, gianna shook her head as her smile never once faltered 

later on, that day after kelly and gianna had parted ways, the younger blonde walked herself into a pharmacy and bought herself a handful of clearblue pregnancy tests. after her conversation with kelly about how sick she had been feeling and how worried she was, it truthfully now made so much sense that she would be pregnant when she also suddenly realised that during this entire time she had been unwell, she hadn't gotten her period like she was supposed to during the second week of this month of the f1 season. she just hoped to some degree that she was pregnant and that daniel would be just as excited. even though this was a topic that daniel and gianna would have almost daily due to constant questions about it in interviews and things, it still somewhere in the blacklights of her head worried her that maybe, right now, they shouldn't be trying to settle down so soon. 

however, the moment that all ten of the pregnancy tests, yes ten, showed their results, gianna was so relieved and almost fell to her knees. all ten pregnancy tests had come back positive so, there wasn't a single doubt that daniel and gianna hadn't conjured up a junior ricciardo. because they did and the ten pregnancy tests proved all the evidence needed to support that claim. now, all that gianna needed to do was to tell her husband and then later on down the line, tell the rest of the grid and their significant others. with a small pep in her step, gianna decided to buy some infant unisex converse and decided that she'd announce her pregnancy to daniel with a youtube video challenge idea that she had seen her influencer sister do years ago. reminding the girl of how her elder sister georgia announced her pregnancy to her and her family, which was done in the same way.

daniel had very clearly noticed the new pep in his wife's step as he arrived back at the hotel after his day off with the lads. smiling with confusion at the set-up of a film camera, the couch and a box with a piece of fabric that covered a small side opening and then an open opening on the other side, he didn't question it and just followed his wife to the couch. 

"can we film a quick youtube video, babe?" gianna asks her husband as they pull out of a hug and peck each other's lips as he nods his head grateful he hadn't drunk his entire body weight as some of his bandmates had regrettably (but hilariously) had done

"course we can, no wonder why i was smart and didn't get drunk! should i be worried though?" daniel sarcastically said with a wink as gianna giggled after the memory of the last youtube challenge the husband and wife filmed went through her head (yes, daniel was drunk in that last video, hence his comment about him being glad he wasn't drunk this time)

 "not at all, i don't think..." gianna trailed off as daniel smirked before taking the seat next to his wife, a small four-legged chair sat in front of them, the box laid on top 

"...okay, babe, the first item is in the box, are you eyes closed?" gianna smiled as daniel giggled softly as he nodded his head 

"mhm," he vocalised, letting his wife know that his eyes were closed as she continued 

"ok, the fans who are watching the video can see what's in the box except you. so, just, stick your hand in and, feel around, pick it up, and see if you can figure out what it is, okay?" gianna explains as daniel laughs at the slight innuendo before nodding his head 

"o...kay...." daniel trailed off, his australian accent peeking through as he placed his hand into the opened side of the box as he slightly hesitated, flinching his hand before placing it back in 

gianna had placed in the infant unisex converse first because the pregnancy test would have been too obvious and easy she felt and then it wouldn't be so much of an amazing surprise, in gianna's opinion. so, starting off with the converse would act as a good clue to the fact that the shoes are for a baby - meaning that gianna is pregnant without telling him straight away with the pregnancy test. 

daniel chuckled, his head falling back as he felt the pair of converse, "are these like, converse for infants?" gianna sucked a breath in before a small chuckle left her mouth 

"can i pull it out to check?" daniel then queried as gianna vocalised a small "yeah", daniel then grabbed the infant converse and opened his eyes 

laughing at the infant converse, it seemed to gianna that it hadn't registered in his head that it was to announce the news of her being pregnant and the couple being parents. so, due to daniel's confusion she just set aside the infant converse, told daniel to close his eyes again and that she'd put the next clue to her surprise announcement into the box. 

biting her lip and willing away her joyful tears, she announced to daniel that he could place his hand in the box again and guess the next clue. it obviously stumped daniel as, unlike the first time with the infant converse, it seemed as if daniel hesitated in guessing what the item in his hand was. i mean, surely, it wasn't the first time the man had felt or even seen a pregnancy test but, it flew right past his mind because he didn't think he wouldn't notice if his wife was showing the symptoms of pregnancy or recognise that for the past month, they were the same ones that their best friend kelly and the other f1 mum's had when they were pregnant. however, it seemed as if five minutes later, he kind of figured it out since it was obvious that he hadn't noticed his wife's symptoms like he thought he wouldn't have missed.  

"is...is this a pregnancy test?" daniel finally calls out, his eyes adorably crinkled shut as gianna giggles softly as she watches her husband open his eyes and turn to his wife, his hand still holding the test 

"wait, it's been used?! ew, you fucking peed on it and you made me touch it!" daniel freaked out as he then brought the pregnancy test out of the box properly before he decided to take a better look at it after just touching it 

thinking it didn't have an answer on the panel thingy, he looked at it before it registered in his mind what it said. "gianna, are...are you serious?" daniel's voice trembled as tears shed his eyes as gianna smiled, nodding her head with a tender look at her husband 

"are you actually serious?" daniel's chin wobbled as he tried not to cry, gianna smiled brighter and nodded her head 

"dead serious," gianna smiled as daniel chucked the box, chair and the pregnancy test all to the floor as he pulled his wife in for a hug, letting his tears stream down his cheeks onto gianna's shoulder, hoping they wouldn't get a noise complaint from the hotel manager 

"we're having a baby!" daniel quietly sobbed out as gianna giggled and nodded her head, pulling out of the hug as she ruffled her husband's hair before stroking his cheek 

"mhm, we're having a baby, daniel!" gianna confirmed again, knowing that it was going to take a lot of confirmation for daniel to really believe his dream of becoming a father was going to come true 

after another two confirmations of the pregnancy, it seems as if daniel still hadn't cried all of his tears out as he continued to cry in his wife's embrace. daniel couldn't help the smile that was tucked away, hidden by gianna's sweater as she made small, rubbing motions of comfort on daniel's back to comfort him. finally though, thirty minutes later, it seemed as if every single tear that he could have shed, had been cried and the couple were now just coming up with ways to surprise their families and then the rest of the f1 grid family after getting the go-ahead by their ob-gyn. 

💌

a week or two had passed since daniel and gianna had found out about the pregnancy when it had been decided that they could tell their families and everyone else since gianna was now in her second trimester. telling both families, the ricciardos and the saints at the same time was so casual that it actually had such a delayed reaction that daniel and gianna thought they didn't hear them the first time. 

the way they told them was that, because georgia, gianna's sister is a nurse, gianna decided that after being offered wine, because she always does, she'd make a joke about the fact that her sister should know that drinking alcohol when pregnant is a big no-no. hoping that it would give the normal sometimes clueless families that gianna was pregnant. 

"wine, gianna?" georgia offers as gianna smiles, shaking her head no, confusing georgia as it was very well known how in love gianna was with alcohol

"ah, no thanks georgia," the pregnant girl responds which confuses everyone as daniel tries his hardest to not outwardly react or pull any attention onto himself in a way that could further clue everyone into the surprise 

"why? gia, you never turn down a glass..." georgia trails off as gianna decides to just tell her since no one had thought to look down at her slightly protruding stomach 

"...you're a nurse georgia, i thought...well, i'd hope you would know that pregnant women are highly advised to not drink..." gianna trailed off, hoping that both families would react but, it seems as if they weren't at all 

that was until georgia finally realised what her younger sister had just revealed. 

"...wuh...wuh...wait, gianna! no fucking way!" she squealed, almost dropping the wine bottle and rushing over to the other end of the table, pulling her younger sister in for a hug and almost out of her seat as the older sister held back her joyful tears as the sisters giggled, swaying side to side 

despite georgia's dramatic and loud realisation, it seemed as if everyone else was still so clueless that daniel and gianna were pregnant. so clueless in fact that it wasn't until gianna and georgia's mum finally looked down towards her youngest daughter's tummy, noticing the slightly curved baby bump that had been forming but wasn't totally hidden when she then announced out loud in a question that gianna was pregnant. 

"gia, you're pregnant?" mrs saint squeaked out as tears welled up in the mother's eyes, gianna nodding her head as daniel placed his hand on the small of her back 

"yeah, i'm pregnant," gianna confirmed as finally, the rest of the ricciardos and saints reacted in due course making gianna and daniel chuckle at the very delayed reactions of their families 

💌

she couldn't hide the nervousness that was welling up inside her as gianna waited for the moment the wags (kelly, carola, lily z, lily m, luisa, rebecca and alex) realised what it was that kelly was fiddling with. exactly in the way that gianna surprised daniel, the couple were surprising the partners and fellow f1 grid about her pregnancy with the "what's in the box challenge" with the other spouses being told first. 

kelly was extremely hesitant to place her hands inside the box with her eyes closed. due to her being a mother herself with one girl, she was extremely nervous to see what her best friends could be making her touch right now. and having the rest of the f1 girlfriends watching on in anticipation was making her feel more anxious about the item that she was trying to guess. however, it shocked gianna that kelly was so oblivious to the fact that she was literally fondling a positive pregnancy test that would announce gianna and daniel's first pregnancy and not be responding immediately with the answer of it being a pregnancy test. 

"--what is this?" kelly chuckles after nearly fifteen minutes of fondling the pregnancy test and not guessing it, the rest of the spouses chuckling at kelly forfeit

"are you seriously giving up, kelly?" gianna giggled, daniel biting his lip so he wouldn't laugh or again potentially give it away as he stood behind the camera that was filming the video

kelly giggled in defeat as she nodded her head, "yes, i give up, gianna! what is it?" kelly squeals out as she then furrows her eyebrows, her eyes showing a flash of recollection 

"wait, wait, i...i think i know what it is!" kelly called out in excitement as her eyes widened with joy, looking at gianna if she could take the item out, gianna nodding her head 

immediately, kelly yelped out, similar to daniel's initial reaction, the pregnancy test landing on the raised table in front of the group, gianna trying to keep kelly quiet so it wouldn't clue the f1 boys, "oh my gosh, eww you peed on that...wait, are you serious?"

the wags laughed at kelly getting grossed out by a used pregnancy test before it all clicked in their heads that it clicked in kelly's head that it was gianna's used pregnancy test. kelly had since let out a semi-muffled squealed sob, attacking gianna into a hug, the two girls falling onto the couch with the table that had the positive pregnancy test fall to the floor. the other girls' brains were slowly clicking in realisation when they noticed the way daniel was watching his wife and friend celebrate together, the other girls jumped up to pull daniel in for a hug. 

"you're pregnant, gia?" kelly whimpered out as she and gianna stood up off the couch, kelly wiping away her tears as the two girls saw the other girls hug daniel as they celebrated 

hearing kelly say if gianna was pregnant and seeing daniel's joy that they could finally tell everyone made the entire group happy. it was tears and joyus laughter all around for a while.

after calming down and the tears stopped, that was when gianna and daniel had to tell max, checo, oscar, alex, charles, carlos and lando.

similar to how they told kelly, gianna had max guess what was in the box. like his girlfriend, max fondled the pregnancy test for a few moments with no clue about what it was when a couple of minutes quicker than kelly did, he had the same exact freak out as his girlfriend had before him. 

"hold up, is this...is this a pregnancy test?" max chuckled, hanging his head low as he chuckled as neither gianna nor daniel responded at first which seemed to make max freak out even more

"gianna, are...are you pregnant?" max all of a sudden got emotional and teary-eyed, the other drivers still unsure about what was going on that was until they heard the part where max questioned if gianna was pregnant

perking up, lando then asked, "gianna, are you pregnant with you and daniel's first baby?!" lando smiled with the possible exciting thought of a new f1 grid baby being introduced into the world 

shrugging her shoulders, she nudged at max to reveal what it was that he was holding in the cardboard box, "i dunno lando...max, am i pregnant with me and daniel's first baby?" gianna teased with a shoulder shrug as an emotional max reveals the pregnancy test that did indeed reveal that gianna was pregnant with her and daniel's first baby 

immediately, carlos, lando, checo, alex, charles, oscar and then max, after throwing down the pregnancy test, wrapped their arms around their best friend and congratulated her on her pregnancy. daniel then joined them after it was then revealed that girls had already been told too. 

it made butterflies flutter throughout both daniel and gianna's tummies that they were finally getting the blessing of being parents for the first time after it being a point of talking after their marriage. after all the happy tears and squeals and jubilation over gianna and daniel's announcement, gianna couldn't help the jokingly snide comment that fell out of her mouth as she drank a mocktail. 

"how did you guys not notice? i thought danny and i had made it way too obvious for you!" 

fin

when i wrote this for the first time, i didn't like it as much as i thought i would. then i wrote a kian egan version and i liked it a lot better. now that i've done a danny ric version, i think i know which one i like better! and now like i've done the last two times since writing this one-shot, here is some context for the title that's so vague. because gianna is married to daniel and daniel is an f1 driver who travels constantly during the f1 season in the beginning of the one-shot, i mentioned that for some of the season that gianna had been sick. mr and mrs ricciardo then thought that after finding out about their pregnancy and not trying to keep it a secret but not telling everyone, people would realise a lot quicker that potentially, gianna could be pregnant. however it wasn't until they literally had to spell it out for them that they realised she was pregnant. hence the 'how did you guys not notice?' title and comment. because they hadn't really tried to keep it a secret like supposed to so it was just a funny little jab at their friends lol.

[seydaneencensusoffice]

    @i-am-sharmat​ sent me the prompt “have you ever played in the rain?” :)

    When the people flocked around them in the village square, holding out their hands to accept the customary alms from the King and his retinue of guards and advisors, the woman looked like any other Chimer peasant, simply clothed and with a face bronzed by the sun. It was only when she made a movement under her cloak and, raising her arm, looked Voryn right in the eye — a determined stare, the unmistakeable look of a fanatic — that a shock of unease pulsed through him. His next thought, as he turned to warn Nerevar, who was already being dragged out of the way by Alandro Sul, was that a fly must have bitten the back of his neck. Then he staggered.

   Feeling as if a great vice had begun all of a sudden to constrict his head, his chest, vision blurring, Voryn heard Nerevar cry out his name… he sank to his knees, half-aware of someone supporting his arms, lowering him to the ground gently; coughing, he saw Nerevar turn to shout for help, and raised his hands to his mouth. They came away wet with blood.

   “Oh,” he groaned, then passed out.

   The guards carried him to the local temple, where the priest-healers made an upstairs bedroom into a sick room and put Voryn into a deep magical sleep, hoping to give his body the chance to overcome the poison. Nerevar refused to return to Mournhold until the would-be assassin had been interrogated and — the matter weighing more heavily on his mind, though he made an effort to conceal that fact — he could be sure that Voryn would survive. He had requisitioned the room next door to Voryn’s for his own, so that he could go through the papers and correspondence on hand, but in truth he was too anxious to focus on his work and spent much of his time checking in on Voryn.

   Laid out on the bed, with his arms limp at his sides and his face as pale as the white linen sheets tucked around his chin, he looked like a corpse dressed for viewing before going to meet the funeral pyre. Nerevar couldn’t stop himself from extracting one fine hand from the blankets and checking the pulse at his wrist, just to make sure.

   His hair, sweaty and in disarray, lay snarled across his brow. Nerevar frowned, thinking of the care Voryn took with his hair, how he’d hate to see himself so bedraggled; without realising what he was doing, he reached out to brush it back, tucking it behind his ears. He let his hand linger on Voryn’s forehead, which was clammy and feverish — the healers had said that was a good sign, that his body was fighting the poison. At least they’d washed the blood from his face… Oh, Nerevar, he thought, heart clenching as he watched Voryn in his lifeless sleep, his red lips parted slightly, what do you think you’re doing?

   “Ignoring my better judgement,” he said out loud, answering himself.

   Settling into a chair near the window, Nerevar watched over Voryn — his councillor, his friend — noting the rise and fall of his chest, the whispers of breath, and found himself begin to talk, first to himself, quietly and about things he had to remember to attend to back in Mournhold, and then, gradually, to Voryn, too. He was such a familiar conversation partner that Nerevar could imagine just what he would say in response to his rambling, how he would turn his head, the glint in his expressive eyes. When, every so often, the healers came in to check their patient, he noticed that they gave him sympathetic looks when they thought he wasn’t watching.

   Late in the afternoon of the second day, Nerevar had dozed off to the sound of rain outside the window when he was woken by Voryn’s voice, hoarse and weak, saying, “My lord?”

   “Voryn!” Leaping from the chair and rushing to the bed, he reached out on instinct, unable to stop himself from taking Voryn’s hand in his. “Azura be praised.”

   “That woman — she threw a dart… Lord Nerevar! Where is she?”

   “No, no, lie down, my friend.” Nerevar coaxed him back against the pillows, his brow creased with worry. “She’s in chains, being questioned.”

   “Oh…” Voryn collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, as if even the action of sitting up had exhausted him, and allowed Nerevar to fuss over him, tucking the blankets in and smoothing the hair from his face. He was in such a dazed state that he barely had the mental energy to recognise that it was Nerevar tending to him. “Thank Mephala she missed you…”

   Nerevar had decided already that he would not tell Voryn the truth — that, according to the interrogation so far, it seemed she had not missed her target at all — while he was in this weakened state. It was barely a lie, not if Voryn didn’t ask.

   “Yes, well, you must rest now,” he said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell the healers you’re awake.”

   “Not yet, just… could you keep talking to me, please, my lord?”

   Nerevar turned his head away to hide the flush of colour he was certain had rushed to his cheeks.

   “You could hear me?”

   “A little,” Voryn said with a smile, golden eyes drifting shut.

   “Well… your cousin Araynys should be arriving any moment now, from Vvardenfell; I’m sure she’s beside herself. Once you’re a bit better, you can go home with her… or come back to Mournhold, if you prefer.” He paused as a clap of thunder roared outside, staccato amidst the steady pouring of the rain. “Can you hear the rain? I bet the kids are out there jumping in puddles and throwing mud at each other… that’s what we used to do. Did you ever do that, Voryn? Play in the rain? I think you were a serious child, always inside reading books…”

   “I played in the rain,” mumbled Voryn from the bed. “Just ask Araynys.”

   “I’ll try to remember,” said Nerevar, laughing softly. “When we get back to Mournhold the gardens will be green and full of mushrooms, just imagine how beautiful it’ll be…”

   But, when Araynys arrived, there was no opportunity to reminisce about their childhood in Dagoth Ruhn. She looked furious, sweeping into Voryn’s room with her red cloak flying and her hands clenched into fists, and ignored Voryn’s half-hearted protests as she quizzed him on his health.

   “My lady,” he said at last, tired of the reproachful looks she was giving him across the bed, “I will leave you to speak with your cousin alone.”

   As he rose to leave, he was surprised to see her rush over to him. Leaning in close, so that Voryn couldn’t hear, she whispered, “This is all your fault.”

   Sometime later, once Voryn had fallen back into a heavy, medicated sleep, Araynys found the king outside the temple, pacing the perimeter of the fence bordering the priests’ guar paddock. He was smoking from a wooden pipe, face twisted into a mighty scowl. After many years without it — Dumac hated the smell of tobacco on him and insisted that the Dwemer cities had a carefully balanced ‘air profile’ which must not be disturbed by alien smoke —Voryn’s attempted murder seemed to have been enough to push him back into old nervous habits.

   Araynys rested her arms on the fence and waited, saying nothing, for Nerevar to speak.

   “You blame me,” he ventured, though there was no harsh edge of accusation in his voice.

   Gazing out over the fields, as the guar grazed and birds called out in the fading light, she stayed silent, and only gestured impatiently for him to hand over the pipe. He obliged, shaking his head a little in amused disbelief, and she wiped the mouthpiece with her sleeve before inhaling deeply.

   “You said this was my fault. Why?”

   “It’s always about you,” she said, exhaling in a cloud of smoke. “Don’t tell me you can’t see it. They think he shares the king’s confidence — and his bed.”

   There was a long pause; Nerevar watched coolly as she continued to smoke from his pipe.

   “Well, they would be mistaken.”

   “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Araynys shook her head in frustration. “Anyway, you’re doing nothing to dispel the notion… watching over him, holding his hand! You look like a worried wife.”

   Nerevar straightened his posture and stared right at her with narrowed eyes, a projection of kingly wrath.

   “Remember to whom you are speaking, Dagoth Araynys,” he warned. “I understand that you’re frightened, and angry, but you go too far.”

   She stared back, bold and fierce, her glittering black eyes the mirror image of Voryn’s. Blessed Azura, thought Nerevar, are all the Dagoths stubborn as oxen?

   “Forgive me, muthsera,” she said at last, almost spitting the syllables of the epithet. She thrust the pipe into his hands and turned toward the temple. “I must get back to my cousin.”

   She was right, he knew — he had always been rash, had always allowed others to get too close to him without appreciating what it meant; he wasn’t sure he had ever resisted an impulse in his life. Once she had disappeared through the temple door, Nerevar turned to kick a nearby rock with such force that the chitin cap on the toe of his boot snapped in two.

   “Fuck!” he cried, foot aching, pressing the balls of his fists hard into his eye sockets.

   That night was sleepless; he thrashed about the bed, desperate to soothe his mind, but haunted by visions of assassins with poisoned blades and Voryn, motionless on the bed, but this time he really was dead… Nerevar tried to shake him awake, to breathe life into him, but a procession of people was filing into the room, all shaking their heads sadly, and saying, What did you expect? By morning, Nerevar had resolved to return to Mournhold at once.

   “You’re awake, Araynys is here; you don’t need me. I’ll see you in Mournhold when you’re recovered, my friend.” Smiling as he rested his hand on Voryn’s shoulder, he added, “I’ll write.”

   At the door, when Nerevar paused to glance over his shoulder, Voryn looked back, propped up against the pillows with the candlelight illuminating the wistful look on his face, and raised his hand in farewell.

[perseusannabeth]

I'll Hold Your Hand - modern AU Nessian fic

Summary:  Cassian is finally going to spend some alone time with Nesta, and he's going to woo the shit out of her. He's totally going to seduce her. This is his chance, finally! However, when he gets to Nesta's flat, he realises that this may not be the best time for seduction.

Notes:  This is not beta-read so please let me know if there are any mistakes! I wrote this for my friend @acourtofmarauders who asked for some Nessian fluff. If anyone has any acotar prompts they would like me to write, then please send me an ask!

Cassian would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t dressing extra carefully today. He had spent 2 hours going through every combination of outfits he could possibly wear, and another hour (once he had chosen an outfit) had been dedicated to fixing his hair. He was nervous, and that was a new feeling for him. Cassian never got nervous, especially when it came to women.

Nesta Archeron however, was no ordinary woman. In fact, when she was angry, he wasn’t even sure she was a woman, she looked like a dragon sometimes, with smoke blowing out of her nostrils when she got angry and ready to breathe fire and burn down whoever angered her, which was usually him. He loved it though. At first, he just loved pissing her off for the sake of it. He didn’t hate her, he just didn’t really like her either and she irritated him, got under his skin and somehow knew how to push all the wrong buttons. Now though, he just loved to watch the way her cheeks would flush, her brows would furrow, and the slight clench of her jaw. He enjoyed their verbal sparring, which he had come to see as a release for the tension between them, only the past few months it felt like the verbal spars were not enough to get rid of the tension.

If she could see him now, primping and preening in the mirror for hours on end, she would have insulted him till he begged for a reprieve, but he doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he looks irresistible but make it look effortless. She could never know his effortless look took him 3 hours. In fact, none of his friends could ever know. They would never shut up about it. He thanked the cauldron that Azriel was spending a few days away with Elain so he couldn’t witness what a mess he was. Sometimes living with your brother had its downsides. He was just thankful that Rhys didn’t still live here. He shuddered at the thought of Rhys and Feyre seeing him getting ready for his not-date with Nesta.

Cassian knew he was acting like this was a date, but he didn’t care. Nesta had invited him to go over to her flat when she was home alone to eat junk food and watch films together, and Cassian was ecstatic. If he had known that mentioning that he had never seen Lord of the Rings, despite having read all the books would have made Nesta so outraged that she’d invite him to spend time with her, then he would have mentioned it ages ago.

He looked at the clock again to check if it was a reasonable enough time to set off. He didn’t want to get there too early, as eager as he was, because that might annoy Nesta and he didn’t want to start their 12-hour marathon with Nesta being angry at him. He also would rather die than get there late, so he kept checking the clock. Nesta had told him to come over for 6 pm so they could marathon all three of the films. She had warned that it would be an endurance test and that if he was a “weak ass bitch” (direct quote from Nesta herself), then she would “leave him for dead”.

Cassian looked at himself one last time in the mirror. His hair was tied in a messy man bun that had taken way too much time to make it look so effortless and not as though he had run in the wind. He had kept his outfit simple, wearing a grey fitted shirt which he knew made his muscles look great, and his favourite joggers which he knew did wonders for his ass (not that it needed help but still, every little helps where Nesta is concerned). Nesta had warned him to dress comfortable, but that didn’t mean he had to dress like a slob.

He grabbed his favourite red zip-up hoodie, made sure he had his phone, charger and keys as he walked into the kitchen. Nesta had said she would have some snacks but Cassian wanted to do a little extra, so he had prepared a pasta bake, which just needed to go in the oven when he got to Nesta’s place. He had also taken the liberty of buying an assortment of junk food, including sour sweets (Nesta’s favourites) and Yorkie chocolate bars (Nesta claimed she started eating them out of spite and can’t stop. He’s too afraid to ask what that even means).

He somehow managed to lock up while holding the pasta bake and the tonne of junk food, and then went and put his things in his car. He tried to drive as slowly as he could without annoying other people on the roads, just to make sure he didn’t get there too early, but still ended up arriving 15 minutes earlier than he was supposed to. Still, Cassian decided Nesta couldn’t be too mad at him for arriving early (could she?) so he decided to take a chance and go up to her flat.

He knocked on her door cautiously and heard a muffled swear from inside which made him grin. Perhaps their little Lord of the Rings marathon wasn’t only making him nervous. The idea that Nesta was nervous too made Cassian grin even wider, his heart fluttering slightly at the thought of Nesta getting nervous because of him.

The door swung open, interrupting Cassian’s thoughts. Nesta stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. She looked… tired? It threw Cassian, seeing her like this. Her hair was in a messy plait that she had clearly slept in, she was wearing what looked like some Mulan pyjamas and a pastel pink fluffy dressing gown over them. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, she looked a little sweaty, her eyes were half-closed as she looked at Cassian. This was not the poised and ready to step on his balls while wearing high heels Nesta he was used to.

“Hi sweetheart, are you okay?” Cassian forgot all about any ideas to woo Nesta, worry at the forefront of his mind now. Something was clearly wrong because Nesta would rather die than be seen in this state, especially by him.

“Hmm? Don’t call me that,” Nesta protested half-heartedly, her eyes still half-closed as she leaned against the door frame, her head moving to rest against it as though it was too heavy for her to carry.

Cassian decided to throw all caution to the wind and step forward, lightly touching her arm while balancing the ridiculous amounts of food he had bought for the two of them. “Nes, you don’t look very well. Are you okay?”

“I was gonna call you to cancel but then I got really tired and fell asleep. It was just really exhausting getting out of bed to go to the bathroom and kitchen so I had to rest on the sofa.” Nesta said softly. It was strange hearing the normally sharp-tongued Nesta sound so soft and sleepy. He had never seen her so vulnerable, and it made his heart swell.

“Why do you have your head against the doorframe sweetheart? You have a temperature too?”

“Yeah, I think so. Also, I’m a little dizzy right now. I’m not too bad when I’m ill usually, but the flu always affects my balance because once I had an ear infection.” She moved her head from the doorframe, turning her head to look at Cassian with those beautiful, sleepy eyes. As she moved her head, she swayed a bit, her grip tightening on the door frame as she did.

“Right, hang on a second,” Cassian said, quickly spurring into action and moving past her to put down the food he had bought on the kitchen counter, before rushing back to the front door, closing it and slowly guiding Nesta back to the sofa in her living area. Once he had Nesta safely seated, he let out a breath he had been holding.

“Thank you. You don’t have to stay, you know. As you can probably tell, I’m in no fit state to watch Lord of the Rings right now. Plus, the only correct way to do it is to marathon them and I don’t have the energy for that,” Nesta let out a small, sad-sounding sigh which sounded more like she was struggling to breathe as she lay herself down.

“That’s fine, we can watch Lord of the Rings another time. I don’t mind,” Cassian smiled at her softly as he grabbed the blanket at the foot of the sofa and covered her in it.

Nesta frowned. “You don’t have to stay,” she repeated.

“I know I don’t have to stay, but I want to stay.”

There was silence as Nesta looked at Cassian, confusion written all over her face plain as day. She never made it this easy to read her, but Cassian enjoyed the fact that for once, he might be able to guess what’s going on in her head.

“I… I don’t… why?”

“Why not? You’re ill, nobody else is here. I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own, especially when you tell me you’re getting dizzy. It’s not safe. Plus, I don’t mind what we do, even if it’s just sitting here and watching some mindless TV while you doze off. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Oh,” was all Nesta could say to Cassian’s confession. He couldn’t be sure, but she almost sounded shocked? But surely not, because he always told her how much he enjoyed talking to her.

“Okay, so have you had any food, water or medicine today?” Cassian asked, getting into his ‘nurse Cassian’ way of thinking, as Azriel had lovingly named it back when Azriel had been very ill when they were younger. Cassian just couldn’t help himself, he always felt the need to protect those he loved.

“I had some water and 2 cookies when I woke up. I fell asleep pretty soon after so I haven’t had anything else yet.”

Cassian frowned. “Nesta, it’s now past 6. Are you telling me that all you’ve had today is 2 cookies and a glass of water? What the fuck!”

“I fell asleep, that’s why! I only just woke up when you knocked on my door. Plus, it’s not so bad, I woke up at 1 pm today so it’s only been a few hours,” Nesta said defensively, a little sharpness returning to her voice.

“No wonder you’re feeling dizzy, you’ve not had any medicine or anything of nutritional value to eat, and most of the day has passed! Come on, what do you want to eat? Anything specific?”

“I don’t care as long as it’s not soup. I’m not dying, I still want real food, and soup never tastes good. Plus, I used to have it all the time when I was younger, it reminds me too much of starving and shoving random things in a pot to make ‘soup’ that we would have tiny little portions of so that it would last us a week.”

Cassian has never heard Nesta talk about their childhood. He knew from Feyre how tough things had been, but Nesta had never once spoken about it. He had always assumed that she didn’t care, and from what Feyre had told them, both her and Elain had pretended nothing was happening. Perhaps, Cassian mused, there was more going on there too, more than what she had let her sisters see.

“Okay, no soup. I made a pasta bake so we could always have that. It just needs to go into the oven for a little while. Does that sound good to you?” Nesta nodded, making Cassian smile.

He was glad that his pasta bake would come to good use. He was just glad that despite the fact that Nesta probably didn’t want him here, she didn’t seem to be kicking him out. He wanted to be able to help her and look after her. She hated people seeing her vulnerable, he knew that, and he was honoured that she was putting up with him and allowing him to be there for her.

Cassian walked over to the kitchen, put the oven on and pulled some dishes out of Nesta’s cupboards while the oven warmed up. Once the oven was warmed up, he put the pasta bake into the oven and set a timer on his phone, making sure it was on vibrate so it didn’t make too much noise and startle Nesta.

While he had been rattling around in the kitchen, Nesta had put the TV on and started Netflix up and was looking through to find something to watch. She eventually decided on Queer Eye but had the volume on very quietly, so it was just some comfortable background silence. Cassian glanced at her on the sofa and saw her struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Where do you keep your medicine?” Cassian asked, deciding he should also see what she had in her medicine cupboard too.

“There’s some in the small cupboard right at the end and then there’s some stuff in the bathroom cupboard too,” Nesta answered, jolting at the sound of his voice as she kept almost falling asleep. Cassian could see that she was fighting valiantly to stay awake. She would probably fight the illness with the same kind of energy and knowing Nesta, be fine in no time through sheer determination alone.

Cassian looked through the cupboards and managed to find some lemsip tablets in the bathroom, as well as the powdered stuff in the kitchen. “Do you want lemsip powder or tablets?” he asked as he walked towards her, holding both up in his hands.

“Ugh, the tablets for sure. The powered stuff tastes like shit. I used to suffer through it and drink that shit until Feyre told me that there was a tablet form of it.” Nesta looked at the offending powder with disdain, narrowing her eyes at it as though it had offended her.

“Okie dokie! The powder stuff is definitely evil. I don’t know how we’re expected to drink it. It does not taste like lemon and lime, it tastes like lies and poison.” Cassian said, throwing the powder back into the cupboard.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he quickly went to take the pasta out of the oven. He quickly plated it up for Nesta, putting it on the coffee table in front of her along with the biggest glass he could find, full of water. He then went to get his own plate and water and sat beside her.

Nesta looked at him suspiciously and then looked at the pasta in front of her. Cassian just grinned at her and started eating. Nesta watched him for a minute, before following his lead. Cassian knew as soon as she had put the fork in her mouth because Nesta let out a positively sinful moan.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” Nesta said, looking over at Cassian, her eyes widened with shock.

Cassian felt his cheeks heat a little, a combination of her praise and the incredibly sexy noise she had let out. He would usually have made a dirty comment after hearing a noise like that, but he decided to hold back for once, only going easy on Nesta because she was ill.

Nesta ate the food at a slightly alarming pace, and Cassian was half worried that she would choke on her food at the speed she was eating, and was on edge just in case he needed to quickly stop her from choking. Nesta didn’t pay him any attention, eating and watching Queer Eye.

When her plate was empty, she drank some of her water. Cassian got up, taking both the plates to the sink and grabbing the cold and flu tablets and handing them to Nesta. She silently took one, before lying back down again.

Cassian turned back to the kitchen when he heard a soft “thank you” coming from the sofa. He stopped in his tracks, not quite sure he had heard it right. He looked at the TV, wondering if he had just heard it from that, and then looked at Nesta, who was watching him.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Cassian asked as he started washing their dishes.

“I know you heard me, don’t ruin it now by being a bastard.” Cassian simply raised his eyebrow at her, before drying his hands and putting cling film on the remaining pasta and putting it in the fridge. “I said, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed the food,” he said, sitting down near Nesta’s feet. She lifted them to make room for him. As he sat down, he pulled her feet back into his lap. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. I guess you were right about the whole food thing making me feel better.”

“Wow, who would’ve thought we’d see the day where Nesta Archeron admits I was right?” Cassian said, feigning shock. Nesta huffed and gave his leg a light kick. “But seriously, you knew the food would make you feel better. You should take better care of yourself. Or maybe, let others in to take care of you from time to time. Like this, us right now.”

“But I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Nesta said, not angry, the way she had said those words many times in the past. Just softly, stating a fact, but her voice tinged with confusion.

“Look, Nesta, admitting that you need help occasionally doesn’t mean you’re weak. Everyone needs help from time to time. Needing someone to take care of you when you’re ill doesn’t mean you’re needy or dependent or a burden on someone, it just means you’re human. And believe it or not, not everyone is out to get you. There are people in your life who would gladly help you, and ask for nothing in return.”

“Like you?” she looked at Cassian with an emotion etched on her beautiful face that he had never seen before. It was hope, softness, and perhaps maybe even fondness for him, all rolled into one.

“Nesta Archeron, I would drop everything to come and help you with whatever you needed, however stupid or mundane you might think it is.” Nesta looked away, and let a small smile grow on her face. Cassian had seen Nesta smile before, don’t get him wrong, but they were more smirks and ‘I’ll kill you’ smiles, in the heat of their arguments. This smile was something different altogether, and it reminded him of how Nesta truly took his breath away.

“I’m tired,” Nesta said after a few minutes of silence.

“Okay, well then you need to sleep.” Cassian stood up, switching the TV off, pulling the blanket off of her and picking her up. She barely weighed anything, which worried Cassian. He didn’t want to annoy Nesta by monitoring her eating habits, especially because he didn’t know why she was so underweight and that could be a risky move, but he hoped he would be able to get her to eat more. He’d even cook for her himself if she wanted.

Nesta, surprisingly, did not react when he picked her up. She just put her arms around his neck and stared at him as he carried her into her room. He placed her softly onto the bed, took her dressing gown off her and hung it up, then tucked her into bed. He then went back into the living room, picked her glass up from the coffee table, filled it up with fresh water and put it on her bedside cabinet, next to some more cold and flu tablets. He then turned to leave Nesta in peace, when she called out for him.

“Cassian?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked, turning around. “Do you need anything else?” Nesta nodded, then gestured for him to come closer.

He walked closer until he was looming over her bed. She slowly reached out for his hand, and kissed the back of it, then let go and smiled at him. “Thank you, for taking care of me.”

“Is that what the kiss was for?” Nesta nodded. “Well sweetheart, if you want to thank me then there are plenty of ways you can thank me when you’re feeling better,” he smiled.

“I would’ve kissed you properly now but I don’t want you to get ill either. I’m nowhere near as good of a nurse as you are.”

“What you might lack in the care department, you could make up by wearing a sexy nurse costume.” he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

She laughed. “I think that would make you stay sick for longer.”

“I think you’re right,” he said, joining her in her laughter.

Nesta’s laughter subsided. She stared at him openly, her eyes roaming all over him. “Will you stay?” she said eventually, so quiet he could’ve missed it if there wasn’t total silence around them.

“Stay here?” he asked dumbly, not quite believing she would want him to continue to intrude, especially when she was about to sleep.

“Yes. Stay with me, please,” she said, her soft sleepy voice returning, her eyes starting to close before she opened them again. Cassian could see how much force and effort it was taking for her to keep her eyes open. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He grabbed Nesta’s armchair, where she no doubt spent many an hour reading her romance books, and pushed it until it was close enough to the bed that Nesta could reach out for him if she wanted.

He sat down on the chair, and Nesta instantly grabbed his hand, the same one she had kissed. He watched as she drifted off in a matter of minutes, the medicine making sleep come to her a lot quicker than usual. Even as she drifted off, she did not stop holding his hand at all. Cassian ran his thumb over the back of her hand softly, repeating the motion as he stared at the beautiful woman before him. He wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a dream, but if it was he never wanted to wake. Nesta’s face was much more relaxed now she was asleep, the frown lines and pursed lips smoothed out. She looked, younger, and almost carefree, apart from the clear signs of fatigue that lined her face. The bags under her eyes were prominent, and Cassian knew she studied into the night, working herself too hard.

Still, Cassian mused to himself, perhaps now that Nesta had let him in, he could convince her to take better care of herself. He needed to make sure that she knew that Cassian was in this for the long haul, and perhaps she would lower her walls more, and finally let him in.

As he drifted off to sleep, still holding her hand, he realised that perhaps she already had let him in.

End Notes: Thank you to everyone who is reading! Please let me know what you thought of it. Also, I've realised that perhaps some of the things I mentioned are very British? I'm not entirely sure but I figured I'd give an explanation just in case.

Yorkies are a chocolate bar, which used to have the slogan 'not for girls' which is obviously very dumb. They changed it years ago, however, before they changed it, when I was younger, I ate the chocolate bar out of spite because the slogan and some boys said I couldn't do it. The adrenaline rush was just wow, a lot at the time for an 8-year-old.

Lemsip is medicine for colds and flu. Most people tend to have the powdered stuff, which you have to mix into boiling water and drink like its tea. It claims to be lemon and lime flavoured but it's actually just lies and makes me gag because it's disgusting. I was very offended because I suffered for all these years but then my sister told me there were tablets too??? Betrayal??? Nobody bothered to tell me???

[theclaravoyant]

High school AU: popular Bobbi has a crush on adorkable Jemma. Only problem is that Jemma hasn't realized she's gay yet.

AN ~ This was so much fun! I hope you like it.

Rated T for some sexual references, but it’s mostly fluff & mutual (& eventually resolved) pining

Currently accepting Pride prompts! here’s my askbox.

Read on AO3 (~3500wd)

Suddenly I See

“Shh – it’s Jemma’s turn.”

At Stanley High, the word of Bobbi Morse was law, so the students around her hushed. Bobbi leaned forward a little in her seat as Jemma Simmons, in jeans and an unassuming pale-pink t-shirt, stood and stepped up to perform. She laid a copy of the play from which she was reciting at the front of the stage, but of course, she didn’t need to double-check it. Katherine’s monologue from The Taming of the Shrew spilled from her lips in a lilting chant, word-perfect and faithfully emphatic. When she ended it on her knees with her hands raised up to an imaginary Petruchio, a murmur went around the room and the class halfheartedly applauded, as they had done for everyone else.

Well, most of the class applauded. Bobbi didn’t even clap once, though one hand absently drifted in an attempt to do so. The other one was too busy digging into the material of the seat, reminding her to be cool.

Lincoln elbowed Bobbi.

“Shut up, Campbell,” she muttered.

“Mr Campbell,” called the teacher in a crisp tone. “Perhaps you have something you’d like to share with the class?”

Raising his eyebrows at Bobbi mockingly, Lincoln obediently got out of his seat and jogged down the stairs, turning to bow up at her just as mockingly, before nodding a noncommittal apology toward the teacher and taking to the stage for his rendition of Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet. His monologue was a bit more bumbling than Jemma’s, in terms of word-perfection, but it was delivered emotively nonetheless, and Lincoln was her friend, so Bobbi applauded properly at the end of it - even if her eyes did keep drifting down to Jemma all the while.

While Bobbi was thus distracted, the gangly form of Antoine Triplett climbed over the row of seats that had separated them, and dropped down into Lincoln’s now-empty place.

“Hey now, what’s that face?” he wondered, prodding Bobbi with a finger.

“I’m going to do it,” Bobbi swore, her eyes fixed on Jemma. The bell rang – she was running out of time – she twisted in her seat. “I’m going to tell her how good she was.”

“Was she good though,” Trip mused, “or just English?”

“I don’t know,” Bobbi retorted. “Was your Othello good, or just Black?”

“Damn, jumping out of the gate fast with that one!” Trip exclaimed. “I’m just looking out for my girl! What’s the first rule, Bobbi? Your first rule? Never fall for the straight ones.”

“She’s not –“

Bobbi cut herself off. Her heart sunk. It was all well and good to imagine, but Jemma wasn’t out and in fact, as far as Bobbi could tell, hadn’t even thought to question the idea that she could be anything other than straight. In terms of her actual sexuality, that didn’t mean much, but in terms of Bobbi’s dating prospects, it meant a lot. It was an elephant in the room that would be incredibly poor form for her to point out. She’d helped many a fledgling gain their little gay wings, but the beginning of the journey was a path Jemma’s own feet would have to find.

Bobbi told herself this whenever she was overcome with the desire to grab Jemma and make out with her against a locker.

It was becoming less and less effective.

In fact, Bobbi was even starting to weave a story in her own head of a queer Jemma, based on their interactions, and the things that Bobbi had seen and imagined; nebulous possibilities fuelled by subtext. She was, more and more, getting her hopes up, and her first rule was collapsing under the weight of a crush with such potential that she had not even realised how far she had taken it until now. Until this moment. Until she watched Jemma, laughing and content with Fitz and Daisy down the front of class, utterly unburdened by this crush, or by the tumultuous self-inspection that came with questioning oneself intimately. She was happy, and Bobbi was happy, but also frustrated, because she couldn’t tell Trip that she hadn’t broken her first rule after all.

(Well. She couldn’t tell him yet.)

-

They hurried to next period in their own groups, and sat apart, like they always had, until the teacher rearranged them.

“Jemma Simmons – Bobbi Morse.”

Jemma squirmed with glee, and packed to change desks so hurriedly she almost dropped everything before she pulled her head in. Of course, in that moment, even she was not sure why she was so excited to be partnered with Bobbi. It was not as if they had not worked together before. It was not as if there were not half a dozen people of comparable ability in their class (though, she would argue, none on the same par of neatness or commitment as the two of them were). It was not as though Bobbi would consider it a memorable experience, either; in fact, Jemma found herself rather nervous that it would go badly. For all her intelligence and general likeability, she had a penchant for being blunt and, when she tried to steer away from that, “off-putting” or “suffocating.” It was a balance she had always struggled with but one that, for some reason, seemed especially important today. She must refrain from putting her foot in her mouth for the course of this two-week assignment. She could manage that, right? Yes. She and Bobbi would be friends, if it killed her.

(Friends. Later, she’d laugh about that.)

Friends could admire the way Bobbi seemed to look like a professional in the school-issue lab coats, right? It was purely aspirational. The rest of their class tended to look like bumbling children in oversized, overly generic white jackets. Bobbi looked like a proper Doctor, and one that Jemma would trust with her life. In a totally platonic, professional-admiration-based kind of way.

Friends could admire Bobbi’s handwriting too, of course, and smile at the little loops it made, right? Jemma wondered: how did she have time to write like that? Had it been bred into her? Genetically engineered? It wasn’t as if Jemma had the most chicken-scratchiest penmanship, of course, but when Bobbi wrote, she oozed perfection and Jemma couldn’t entirely quantify what it was. It just felt like anyone who could write both that level of content quality, and aesthetic quality, was worth mooning over.

Friends could admire the way Bobbi’s eyes looked, too. Couldn’t they? Of course they could. It was a matter of objectivity. Not only were they bright and intelligent, but they were an unusual and pleasant shade of blue: it was only natural to find them attractive. Bobbi’s face was made of bold shapes, with a strong jaw-line and cheekbones, and her eyes stood out. Her face was aesthetically pleasing. That was just a fact.

Right?

Not for the first time, Jemma’s eyes trailed down to the rainbow Pride flag pin that Bobbi kept on her pencil case. She herself had always admired Bobbi’s – well, her pride, Jemma supposed. Her out-ness, her confidence with it, and the way the school seemed not to mind about it all that much. No doubt she’d faced her fair share of demons, probably, but Bobbi was one of the popular girls here – even amongst guys, which Jemma found fascinating… had found fascinating… now was starting to find fascinating in a whole new light. Bobbi, everything Bobbi, had seemed unattainable just a few days before, but unattainable in a conceptual, personality-trait kind of way. Like the kind of person who had her life way too together to be real. But now, once it had entered her mind, another thought lodged in Jemma’s brain that maybe, her fascination had been related to the fact that Bobbi had been unattainable in other ways, too. Surrounded by her clique, and so high-achieving and beloved and athletic at the same time, and a social butterfly on top of that – Bobbi was enviable in her own right. But smart, fit, charming? Were those not all desirable traits too?

Jemma shook her head and twirled her pencil between her fingers, trying to draw herself back to the task at hand with a few rapid-fire conclusions. She had dated boys. Quite liked a few of them, and quite liked their advances too. She had never dated girls, or looked at one sexually really, except for objectively, but everyone did that, probably. She had a few female celebrity crushes, but didn’t everybody? So she wasn’t gay. Ipso facto, she didn’t have a crush on Bobbi and never had and never would and all that unattainability rubbish was just her getting up in her own head again. Damn psychology.

(Fortunately for her, Jemma would later recount, it is not that easy to kill an idea.)

-

Jemma shoved her eyes back to the board somewhat forcefully and Bobbi lowered her own, twirling a pencil absently as she stared. She sighed. She had been hoping, always hoping, and though somewhat prepared to be let down, it still hurt a little each time it happened. Each time Jemma looked, and then looked away; each time it seemed like there was a question, or even just a breath, on the tip of her tongue, and she did not let it fall. Bobbi was frustratingly sure now, that she was not imagining things, but Jemma seemed just as frustratingly sure to keep said things to herself. Sometimes, Bobbi daydreamed up a collection of haphazard, farcical scenarios designed to trigger in Jemma a rom-com-like revelation, but the thought of forcing it – whether she was imagining things or not – made Bobbi feel predatory and wrong. There was nothing to do but wait it out and see how things developed. Her crush was her own problem, not Jemma’s. And besides, Jemma clearly had enough of her own stuff to sort out.

Even if she was taking so long about it, and dancing so painstaking close to the truth, that Bobbi wanted to snap a pencil.

It wasn’t all frustrations though. Bobbi did allow herself some pleasantries in her own head, and complex bundle of attractions aside, Jemma was great to hang out with. She was smart, in lots of ways and on lots of topics, and she was energetic and kind for the most part, and she loved to talk. She was honest, about the good and the bad, and sometimes she was blunt to the point of rudeness to which Bobbi, though she’d struggle to admit it, could relate. Bobbi loved her, in ways that could not clearly be divided into friendship and romance. She loved the way Jemma’s eyes lit up when she got excited, because it was beautiful, but also because it meant she was happy. She loved the way Jemma tucked her hair behind her ears, both at the same time, whenever she was nervous or needed to concentrate. It just felt very her. Bobbi loved the care and enthusiasm with which Jemma distributed cupcakes to Bobbi’s group one lunchtime. Half of them were made with applesauce instead of butter, Jemma told her. Fitz had bet her they wouldn’t taste as good, so she wanted a blind test. Scientifically rigorous; fluffy and adorable. The eternal dichotomy of Jemma Simmons.

(The cupcake test was definitely not, Jemma maintained, an excuse to spend more of the day with Bobbi. And she definitely did not, she insisted, spend the rest of the day thinking about the way Bobbi had licked the soft pink icing off her lips, or how much Jemma wished those lips had been her own.)

Bobbi, of course, swiftly resigned herself to daydreaming alone about that icing and how good it would taste on Jemma’s lips. She dreamed about how Jemma’s pupils had dilated at the sight of it, and how much more it would’ve taken – not much more - to make her weak at the knees. She dreamed about spending a lazy morning baking with Jemma, dancing around in their pyjamas and making a mess of a fantasy kitchen she must have pulled from a movie or advertisement she’d since forgotten. Sometimes they had a dog, for some reason. She didn’t question it. It was only a daydream, after all. A stockpile of fuel for her unquenchable crush - not that she was trying that hard to quench it: if she only had two weeks, she was going to make it count.

But as those two weeks came to an end, Bobbi gathered her dreams and fantasies to one side, and committed herself to enjoying their last few days together for the fun and challenging assignment and vibrant friendship that it was. When the night of the science fair came at last, and it was time to present their project, it all flew by, flawless and fast. Too fast. Afterward, when the gravel crunched under her tyres as she pulled into Jemma’s drive to drop her home, Bobbi held her breath.

“Well… thanks for the lift,” Jemma said.

Her voice sounded a little shaky and wistful, but maybe that was just an effect of the silence, and Bobbi’s own mind. Or maybe she could feel it too – that slight ache that was now making a home in Bobbi’s chest. An ache full of the knowledge that they could have had so much more and that they were about to watch it slip away. Tomorrow, they’d return to their normal seats in biology. They’d return to their regular groups at lunch, and to sitting on opposite sides of the theatre in drama, and to their pre-This patterns of after school lives and extra curriculars. They’d return to how it was, which had been fine, but hadn’t been all it could be.

Still, Bobbi smiled.

“No problem,” she said, but the words left her lips just as Jemma took in a rush of air and blurted:

“How did you know?”

-

Jemma startled herself when the question came out, but her fingers refused to reach for the door handle and her body seemed determined to hold her here until she’d got some kind of response. First, Bobbi took a moment of silence to turn the car’s engine off (and to lock away her crush; it was not the time or the place for it). Then she looked back at Jemma with more longing than she meant to, and with a smile.

“Know about what?” she asked, because know about me, or know about you? felt like it would send Jemma running.

“Know about –“ Jemma stumbled through it. “You know, that you liked girls. How did you know? And, when? Why? What does it feel like?”

Not the questions of somebody curious, or looking for a thread to pull. No. These were questions Bobbi herself had asked, on more than one occasion, and they made her smile deepen.

“It feels amazing, first of all,” she said. “Although, there’s a lot of doubt involved too. I’m working on it, but sometimes it feels like there’s something to prove.”

Jemma felt her heart swell and shrink again, in a moment. Bobbi had answered a question she hadn’t thought to ask, and Jemma knew in that moment that Bobbi had seen through her. Strangely enough, though, it didn’t make her want to run. Rather, she felt like reaching down into herself and pulling out more of herself, of her soul, to show Bobbi. She listened instead.

“I guess I’d say I knew,” Bobbi continued, “a long time ago. Well, not that long. Middle school. My first kiss was a girl, even though my prom date was a guy. He dumped me the day before the dance, and my friend found me alone outside ‘coz I’d still gone for some reason, and we ended up kissing. Just a little peck on the lips, really, but it was a kiss. I was twelve. It opened up a door for me, I guess, and I went exploring through it, and here I am. But not everybody knows that young. And not everybody knows with a kiss. Sometimes it’s a lot more conceptual and harder to figure out. It’s like, you think you want that girl’s dress, you know, but then actually it’s more like… you want that girl’s dress on your bedroom floor.”

She laughed, and Jemma found herself laughing too. She’d been expecting this conversation to be a lot heavier, and while it certainly felt significant, with every piece of advice Bobbi offered, her heart felt lighter and lighter. Bobbi didn’t ask her to share her own feelings and talk through them – for which Jemma was grateful, although she did offer the occasional tidbit – but they talked for a long time about the nature of different forms of attraction and the complexity of figuring it all out. It seemed simple and complex both at once, Jemma thought to herself, and as Bobbi talked her through some of the labels – the complexities - she felt the acceptance – the simplicity – settle in the back of her heart and her mind.

I like girls.  

I like Bobbi.

I like girls.  

I like Bobbi.

Does she like me?  

“…and – oh, shit,” Bobbi cursed. “I’ve got to be home by midnight. Sorry to kick you out, but I’ve gotta go.”

“It’s no problem,” Jemma assured her. “I should be getting inside too. Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime.”

“But- um, don’t tell anyone at school about it, okay? I’m still thinking through it.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.”

Jemma sighed, relieved and satisfied, and got out of the car, gathered her books, and strode up the drive with a spring in her step and a grin on her face. Bobbi grinned after her as she started up the car, and tried not to fist-pump the air as she drove away.

-

It didn’t go back to the way it was before – not quite. How could it, why would it, after that? Jemma did go back to spending more time with Fitz and Daisy, but she smiled at Bobbi when they passed in the hall, or sat across the room from each other. Bobbi put in the Good Word of a Popular Girl on Jemma’s behalf when she wanted something, and helped pull sway in the Student Council elections – in return, she jested, for some more of those applesauce cupcakes, which Jemma was happy to provide. They danced around each other for a while, a pleasant equilibrium of mutual crushing, while Jemma sorted herself out. Bobbi slipped her resources and kept her secrets. Jemma told Fitz and Daisy, and when she was ready, came to school with three little star badges in a row on her pencil case: one pink, one purple, one blue.

At a gesture from Jemma, Bobbi took the seat beside her instead of her usual in biology. Their partners swapped without a word, if perhaps a bit of a grin. Nobody questioned the ways of Bobbi Morse, but the rumour mill was in full swing by now. This bit of gossip was one of the juicier ones in the saga so far. Watching the other students murmur excitedly, Jemma tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. Bobbi shook her head.

“Ignore them,” she said, and nodded at the stars. “You figured something out?”

Jemma beamed, and felt her chest expand a little.

“I’m still tossing up between yellow and purple,” she said, “but it’s early days, so I’m happy.”

“Well, that’s good.” Bobbi found herself blushing, cheeks burning with the question she’d been hanging onto for so long. Instead, she asked: “What’d you get for production? Happy with that too?”

“Lead.” Jemma grinned smugly.

“Of course,” Bobbi agreed. “I’m stage manager.”

“Well, you know what that means.”

Jemma’s tone was laden with possibilities that captured Bobbi’s attention like the smell of freshly baked goods on a windowsill. She almost laughed at Bobbi’s expression as she expanded on her offer:

“Lots of after-school stays… Long rehearsal hours together - I’ll be called a lot, after all. And I might need a ride. A few rides, in fact.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow, and Bobbi caught on.

“Some of those rehearsals go to six, seven o’clock,” Bobbi mused. “We might have to get dinner together sometime.”

“That we might.”

“I guess it’s settled, then, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

“How are you feeling?”

Bobbi laughed a little, watching the blush creep up Jemma’s cheeks instead of a verbal answer. That dizzying validation: Bobbi remembered it well, so instead of probing Jemma further, she intertwined their fingers together below the desk. Their hands hung together until the teacher walked in, when they reluctantly crept apart and back to work. A few of the students behind them snickered with laughter, but this time Jemma didn’t seem bothered. She sat taller, as attentive as ever, and the class launched onward, with the pleasant pressure of Bobbi’s grasp still tingling in her fingertips.