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astonmartinii · 11 months ago

Text

a case of the cuddle bug | logan sargent social media au

pairing: logan sargent x fem!piastri!reader

someone check his temperature, he's got a serious case of the cuddle bug

author's note: thought we could all use some logan content to get us through the weekend

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 201,445 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: he's not racing :( more time to cuddle :)

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user1: if i find out that that t-shirt was made by them i may need to be shot in the head

yourusername: sorry to be the bearer of bad news 😕

user2: y/n where do we find a logan?

yourusername: date your brother's best friend - the romance books did NOT lie

logansargent: hard to be too sad when you're around

yourusername: awwwww logie bear 🐻 i love youuuuu

logansargent: i love you too come back to the motorhome the hospitality coffee is not worth it

yourusername: not even if i swipe you a cupcake?

logansargent: okay..... maybe ....

alexalbon: i'm sorry buddy, i promise i'll do us proud

yourusername: yOU BETTER 👹

alexalbon: i'm soRRY are you like a gremlin? did someone spill some water?

yourusername: i'm gonna ignore most of that cause gizmo is cute

logansargent: she loves you really alex

alexalbon: do you still love me logie?

logansargent: yes?

alexalbon: I' SORRY I HAVE.A GUILTY CONSCIENCE I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE BEING MAD AT ME

user3: lol mood ^

oscarpiastri: you could support your BELOVED BROTHER NOW (AT HIS (OUR) HOME RACE)

yourusername: ugh i guess

oscarpiastri: you literally said you'd support me any time logan wasn't racing :(

yourusername: unless he can come with me, we'll be supporting you from the williams garage

oscarpiastri: better than nothing i guess

logansargent

liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon and 459,046 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: no way around it, this weekend has been the hardest of my career. however, i'm thankful for alex for picking up a couple points for the team and for having y/n with me to support me this weekend, enjoy the cute picture of her (but not too much)

also i guess congrats to oscar on a podium at his home race 🤷🏻‍♂️

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user4: hardest weekend ever... here's a pic of my. hot gf :)))))

user5: he's real for that, just reminding us that he's still winning off track

alexalbon: thank you isn't enough logie, love you man, can't wait to see you back in the car next week x

yourusername: you're so lucky you got points otherwise your ass would've been grass xoxo

alexalbon: Y/N I SAID I WAS SORRY PLEASE STOP BEING MEAN YOU'RE MEANT TO BE THE NICE PIASTRI

oscarpiastri: you stole my soon-to-be brother-in-law's car and called me a shit padel player 🖕🏻

alexalbon: why is everyone ganging up on me :(

logansargent: you gotta take it for at least this weekend bro

alexalbon: i guess...

user6: they're so cute, but who is taking these photos of them?

yourusername: oscar makes himself useful sometimes

oscarpiastri: ugh i get NO CREDIT IN THIS FAMILY

logansargent: i at least appreciate it oscar 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: that's all well and good and i love you, you're my bff but sometimes i don't want to see you be lovely dovey with that hellspawn

fredvesti: let it be known i will no longer be sneaking out with you guys for ice cream on a race weekend, the risk was not worth the third wheeling

logansargent: i paid?

fredvesti: thank the lord you did otherwise i'd raise an official complaint

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 793,209 others

tagged: logansargent & yourusername

oscarpiastri: got a podium at my home race and i'm still not my sister's favourite

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user8: have we considered that y/n and logan have attachment issues?

oscarpiastri: she sat at the window like a woman waiting for her husband at war when he DARED to go home for christmas when we were 16

yourusername: as if you haven't cried over lily 🙄

oscarpiastri: i ACTUALLY don't get to see her very often, i can't separate you and logan

yourusername: LEAVE ME BE

user9: oscar says this as if y/n wasn't crying her eyes out at the podium

user10: and logan wiping her tears to prevent smudging her eyeliner - sigh

logansargent: don't hate the player hate the game

oscarpiastri: what happened to blood being thicker than water

yourusername: you know what else is thicker than water ... 😩😩😩

oscarpiastri: okay you can sTOP RIGHT THERE

landonorris: they're really one being huh?

oscarpiastri: believe me the dinner at mine? they were being TAME

yourusername: okay for the audience we are not that bad, we're just affectionate we aren't like making out in front of everyone

landonorris: .... shame

oscarpiastri: yOU HAVE SHAME THAT'S MY SISTER

logansargent: THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND

yourusername: AND THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND

landonorris: damn tough crowd

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 212,934 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: a wee break before my boy is back to knock your socks off

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user11: they're so cute your honour

alexalbon: dating a racing driver and not wearing a seat belt? interesting.

yourusername: dating a professional golfer and still shit at golf? interesting.

lilymunhe: she did get you there alex, soz.

yourusername: also we weren't even driving, that hair acting is all a fan

logansargent: practically a professional photographer now (the model definitely helps, she looks perfect doing anything)

yourusername: hehehheheheheheheheheheheeh

user12: y/n really just gagging alex at every corner

user13: she saw logan wasn't holding a grudge and decided to double down on hers

user14: and we respect that

logansargent: you knock my socks off everyday babe

yourusername: as long as it's only me 😘

logansargent: i've been in love with you since i was 13 👍🏻

yourusername: SNAP🫰

oscarpiastri: once again left out of the photodump

yourusername: you are not 'my boy' that would in fact be inappropraite

oscarpiastri: you couldn't just change the caption?

yourusername: you're not cute enough to be a lannister (cersei and jaime call me)

logansargent: ????

yourusername: *call us 😉

logansargent

liked by lilymunhe, alexalbon and 592,309 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: glad to be back in the car this weekend, though if alex could stop terrorising y/n that would be great

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user15: were oscar and y/n's parents in the williams garage?

user16: so oscar wasn't lying about him basically being family already 🥹

alexalbon: i was not TERRORISNG I WAS ENGAGING IN SIBLING LIKE BANTER

oscarpiastri: hold on buster, that's MY sister 🤨

alexalbon: i can't win with any of you three 😭

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO EAGLE BOY GOD BLESS AMERICA 🦅🇺🇸

logansargent: i'll let you have this one for once

yourusername: as an aussie that was very hard to say, please appreciate it

logansargent: thank you my little kangaroo?

yourusername: kinda offensive they're scary

logansargent: koala?

yourusername: YOU SAYING I HAVE CHLAMYDIA?

logansargent: well i've ran out of australian animals now :(

user17: thanks for the violent reminder of chlamydia being rife in koalas :(

oscarpiastri: gonna have to beat you this weekend to win back my parents' favour it seems

yourusername: let's be real, they prefer logan over both of us :(

oscarpiastri: true 😔

logansargent: i can't help the southern charm

williamsf1

liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 1,034,672 others

tagged: logansargent

williamsf1: LOGAN POINTS, I REPEAT LOGAN POINTS 😤

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user20: TRUST HIM, I REPEAT TRUST HIM

yourusername: THAT'S MY BOY LET'S FUCKING GO

oscarpiastri: you never get this excited for me?

yourusername: FUCK OFF THIS IS NOT YOUR TURN, IT'S LOGAN'S DAY

maxverstappen1: pretty sure i won the race

yourusername: FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU

user21: y/n crying her eyes out she's so real

user22: based on the faces in the garage i think she may have let everything out lol

user23: as she should

user24: can't expect two people to be attached 24/7 and not be ride or die for each other

logansargent: thanks for the support, glad to pick up some points for the team

yourusername: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

logansargent: i know you've shouted it in my face since i got back from media

yourusername: you need to know it :(

logansargent: i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user25: the whole piastri family going wild in LOGAN'S garage was not on my 2024 bingo sheet

user26: but it was cute as fuck

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 287,045 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: we're down bad with a case of the cuddle bug

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user27: the CUDDLE BUG?

user28: i need to be taken out of my misery

logansargent: i've got a high fever, a love fever

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS CORNY AS FUCK

yourusername: i thought it was cute :(

logansargent: and that's what matters

yourusername: exactlyyyyy

oscarpiastri: so fuck me, right?

yourusername: yes!

logansargent: yes!

user29: this whole interaction makes it so obvious oscar was the only boy growing up LOL

alexalbon: i'll concede, you guys are cute

yourusername: we been known

logansargent: no one does it like us

alexalbon: erm alex and lily erasure?

yourusername: lily cute, you not so much

alexalbon: stop being SO PROTECTIVE WHY ARE YOU A GOLDEN RETRIEVER WITH EVERYONE ELSE AND A RABID JACK RUSSELL WITH ME IT WAS JAMES' DECISION GO FOR JAMES' ANKLES

williamsf1: ???

yourusername: i thought it was friendly sibling banter (also james is logie's boss of course i'm not gonna go for his ankles dummy)

logansargent: she's my little guard dog 🫶🏻

yourusername: anything for you, come back to cuddle :(

logansargent: on my way cuddle bug!

fin.

note: i understand why williams made the decision they did, but i've had such a soft spot for logan since he admitted he's lonely in the paddock :( i hope he has a good next race to really prove himself to everyone xx hope you enjoyed! xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #logan sargeant social media au #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargent x reader

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jinhyun · 4 months ago

Text

—catalyst.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friend’s little brother au

word count: 5.4k

summary: when your best friend points out how there seems to be something more than just a platonic friendship going on between you and hyunjin, you couldn’t help but start questioning everything you’ve been doing together so far.

a/n: and we finally get y/n’s pov!! (and a little bit of hyunie’s as always lol can’t help myself). there is a lotttttt of overthinking on her end so please go easy on her, she just got hit by facts she hadn’t thought twice about before (thank u chan).

if anyone comes across this in the tags, this is part 15.2 of a social media series called heart out! you can read it as a stand-alone but i wouldn’t recommend it since there are a lot of references to the previous parts of the story.

as always i hope you all enjoy! if you do, please let me know your thoughts on it<3

When you woke up that day, you never would’ve expected to end up with so many unanswered questions by the end of it.

It was supposed to be a normal day — a great one, actually. You were having lunch at the Hwang’s household, and that itself was enough to make you happy as ever.

It had been a while since you’d last seen Hyunjin and Yeji’s parents, let alone shared a meal with them, so you took it upon yourself to get up extra early that morning in order to make some dessert for them —a lemon pie and a chocolate one, as they were Mr. and Mrs. Hwang’s favourites— and still have enough time left to get ready.

Yeji called you out as soon as she and Chan arrived to pick you up, ranting about how it wasn’t necessary for you to bring anything, while you and Chan could only laugh, knowing well enough she was already eyeing the lemon pie and thinking of how many pieces she would have.

What only made it funnier to you was that you knew you’d get a similar reaction from Hyunjin once you met him at his parents’, only he’d be eyeing the chocolate pie instead.

Said and done, as soon as you entered their house and Hyunjin came up to greet you —not without first letting you know just how hurt he was over you sharing a ride with your friends instead of him—, he began to go on about how he told you that you didn’t need to bring their parents any presents, like you said you would after his mother had so generously made you some soup when you were in bed with a fever a week ago. Nevertheless, you could see the way he stole a few glances at the chocolate pie, before offering to take it to the kitchen, while Yeji did the same with the lemon one. You could never get bored with these two.

Their parents, you knew very well by now, were just the same as them. It was clear where Yeji and Hyunjin got their humor and antics from.

You always had a very nice time with them, as they’d always find the right topic to keep the conversation going. But then for some reason your dating life made it to the conversation at one point and Mingyu was brought up by their mother asking you about the ‘handsome young man’ they met a couple of times; and somehow that alone would be the catalyst that set off a series of events that ultimately left you questioning your entire relationship with Hyunjin later that night.

“So you are definitely not getting back together with him?” Their mother asked at last, once the whole ‘Mingyu lore’, as Yeji called it, had been covered.

“Um…” you hesitated, eyes unconsciously locking with Hyunjin next to you, before you looked for Yeji, who was in front of him. “No, we’re not”.

“Oh, dear” she lamented. “What he did was such a shame, the two of you certainly made a very nice couple”.

“You heard how he turned out to be an asshole, though” Yeji pointed out, taking the words from Hyunjin’s mouth and inevitably having him and Chan nod in silent agreement.

“It’s a good thing you’re moving past him” their father chimed in this time.

You nodded, giving him a gentle smile. You were trying your best, for sure.

“His parents must be devastated” Mrs. Hwang lamented again, bringing your attention back to her.

This time, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, I got along really well with them, but I wouldn’t go as far as to think they’re devastated”.

“Losing a daughter-in-law as beautiful and attentive as you…” she explained, bringing some heat to your cheeks that you tried to play off by taking a sip of water. “The two of you would’ve made such beautiful children”.

The water you were drinking didn’t follow the path down your throat it should’ve at the sound of her statement, and you inevitably ended up choking on it.

“Yah, mum” Hyunjin called her out, gently patting your back as you tried to catch your breath. “Can we not mention children and her ex in the same sentence?”

“Right, sorry” she apologised, handing you a napkin and giving you a soft smile before her eyes focused on her husband; ignoring the way Hyunjin’s hand remained unconsciously drawing small circles on your back until you were able to breathe normally again. “But just imagine if we had that kind of genes in the family”.

“Did she just call us ugly?” Yeji frowned, locking eyes with Hyunjin, who couldn’t help but chuckle instead of acting offended like his sister — in his eyes you were on a whole other level of beauty after all.

“Honestly though, even I feel offended now” Chan butted in. “I don’t recall you wanting my genes this bad”.

“They met you when we were already a couple, she probably would’ve tried to bribe you too otherwise” Yeji let him know with a cynical laugh, having you all follow right after.

“Trust me, she’s already pictured how cute your children will be” Mr. Hwang let the couple know.

“Can we not?” Yeji pleaded with red cheeks this time. Chan, on the other hand, could not let the opportunity to tease her pass, poking her cheek and repeating in a squeaky voice just how cute their kids would be. “Back to the topic of Y/N’s genes, please” she begged.

“Jeez! Thanks, best friend” you ironically said amidst an incredulous laugh, earning a finger heart and an obnoxious smile from her in response.

“My point was,” their mother resumed her previous train of thought. “Now that Y/N’s single, I’m kind of wishing we had an older son. Imagine how beautiful their children would be if she became a Hwang”.

Well, that certainly felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown right at Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin’s right here, though?” Chan pointed out before the youngest could begin to get lost in his —quite angsty— thoughts. “They’re both in their twenties, I’d say there’s hope for Y/N to become a Hwang”.

And maybe, if you weren’t too busy kicking Chan under the table, you would’ve noticed the shy smile curving up Hyunjin’s mouth, as well as his slightly rosy cheeks as he looked down to his still nearly untouched food.

Maybe if Yeji wasn’t too busy laughing at her boyfriend after getting hit and ever so poorly trying to comfort him, she would’ve noticed her brother being all flustered, too.

But, thankfully for him, his parents did. And that was enough for them to nod their heads in silent understanding.

That was the last comment they made about your dating life that afternoon, having no trouble directing the topic once again towards Chan and Yeji’s relationship instead.

You, on the other hand, although had managed to do a pretty good job at following whatever topic was brought up for the rest of the meal, could not seem to let Chan’s comment go.

It was out of place. Way out of it. What did Hyunjin have to do with it anyway? Like, yes, they were talking about you becoming a Hwang and, yes, he was the only son they had, but that didn’t immediately make him an option?

He was three years younger than you. He was only seventeen and still in high school when you met, whereas you were in your second year of university. It felt wrong to even think about it. And it was even worse considering that there was a reason his mum had explicitly mentioned her wish to have an older son instead of pushing you towards Hyunjin right away. It didn’t seem right for them either, as far as you could tell from what had just gone down.

Which is why you couldn’t let it go. Not even after you and Hyunjin got back to your place, like you had agreed to earlier that day when you decided to share a car with Chan and Yeji instead of him, and he wasted no time to secure his much needed alone time with you once you were done at his parents’.

You’d excused yourself to the kitchen to make some popcorn while Hyunjin was comfortably resting on your couch as he looked for any romcom movie to watch while he sipped on the hot chocolate you made as soon as you got home, and you took those few minutes away from him to text Chan and ask for an explanation.

And, God, did you get one.

You re-read the conversation over and over after he went offline, unable to understand where the hell had it all come from.

“He’s 23 now”.

“You may have met when he was 17 but he’s an adult now”.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

“I’m just trying to make you see and actually consider all your choices”.

“Hyunjin is not a little boy anymore”.

Every single text, hitting harder than the other.

Of course he was no longer a little boy. He stopped being one a long time ago, you weren’t stupid. But he was still Hyunjin, Yeji’s little brother. Nothing would ever change that.

You were supposed to care for him just like she did, to be there for him and protect him when the time came. He wasn’t supposed to be ‘a choice’ for you like any other guy could.

He was Hyunjin, the teenage boy who hardly talked to you the weekend you first met and would stutter almost every time he did, and who would so shyly let you and Yeji know dinner was ready whenever you stayed at theirs after that.

Hyunjin, the high school student you’d give some advice regarding the university admission test and applications throughout his last year of it, and whose graduation you attended later on.

Hyunjin, who made it to your university and would constantly ask for your help in his assignments, regardless of him having chosen a completely different major; and who you’d constantly check up on to make sure he was doing okay in his first year of it.

Hyunjin, who held you tight as ever the night Mingyu left you, and refused to go home like Yeji told him it was okay for him to until he was sure you were sound asleep and no longer crying, which didn’t happen until way past four in the morning.

Hyunjin, who would text to check up on you every single day after your breakup, even if it meant getting very short, cold answers from the heartbroken and detached persona that had taken over your body the following weeks.

Hyunjin, who included you in his New Year’s Eve plans and kept you company the entire weekend Yeji and Chan were away.

Hyunjin, who made it known he missed being as close as you once got to be years ago and took the lead to propose picking up where you left off.

Hyunjin, the man who had spent the entire past month making your days better by simply texting or showing up at your place — being there for you even when you didn’t need him to.

Had you really missed how much he was there for you? When was it that the roles reversed and he started to look after you instead?

You jumped when the microwave started beeping, letting you know the popcorn was ready. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you rushed to pour the popcorn into a bowl before making your way back into the living room.

Hyunjin’s head snapped in your direction, unable to hide his smile as soon as he saw you.

You gulped, trying your best to calm your heartbeats down before you took a seat next to him right as he placed the now empty mug on the coffee table. Maybe you should’ve texted Chan later that night, when Hyunjin was back at his place and you wouldn’t have to face him right away after being hit with so many questions.

“I was like one minute away from going over there to see what was taking you so long” he confessed.

“Just making us a small snack” you smiled cutely, shaking the bowl in your hands to make your point.

“I’m pretty sure popcorn takes like three minutes to make in the microwave,” he pointed out, shoving a single one into his mouth. “You took like seven”.

You scoffed in amusement. “Did you set a timer or something?”

“No, but I watched three whole movie trailers,” he admitted, earning a breathy laugh from you. “And that without counting the minutes I spent scrolling through movies to watch. I’d say you took at least ten minutes, actually”.

“Did you miss me that much to actually count the minutes?” You couldn’t help but joke.

“Well, yes” he answered with no hesitation, and no signs of joking either; very unfortunately for your already shaken up heart. “I told you earlier that I hadn’t seen you all week and wanted to spend time with you”.

“We’ve been together nearly all day” you reminded him sweetly.

“Not alone, though” his words made you feel warm inside, like they seemed to be doing a lot lately. “It’s not the same”.

“Sorry,” you pouted, and that was enough for him to melt. “I got kinda caught up texting and… here, I’ll just leave my phone on the table so we’ll just focus on the movie”.

Placing your phone next to his on the coffee table in front, you leaned back against the sofa, tilting your head up towards the TV, so he’d hit ‘play’ and you could get started on your movie night.

When five seconds went by and he didn’t move an inch, you focused your eyes on him instead.

“Hyunie?” You called him, moving your hand in front of him to pull him out of his thoughts and smiling once you did. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um, I just…” he struggled, having his eyes going back to your phone. “Was it work related? Like, was it… was he…”

“I was talking to Channie” you clarified when you got what was going through his mind. “Don’t be silly now, you really think I’d spend ten minutes of my life texting my ex boyfriend?”

“I mean, you guys have a project together now, so…”

“Still, we can just get it over with by email” you stood your ground. “I only spend that long texting people I actually enjoy talking to”.

He smiled, happy to know you would usually spend that amount of time texting —if not more— and, therefore, he was one of those lucky ones you enjoyed talking to.

Beaming after that realisation, and with the possibility of you talking to your ex out of the way, he grabbed the remote and pointed it to the TV.

“Is this one okay?” He asked, motioning towards the title ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ displayed on it.

You nodded quite effusively. “What are you waiting for, it’s one of my favourites”.

He bit his lip, but not even that was enough to hide the wide smile taking over his face as he leaned back against the couch as well and finally hit ‘play’. Of course he knew you loved that movie. He wasn’t choosing one only he enjoyed after all, and maybe knowing you’d get happy about it was the reason he ended up going with this particular one.

To be fair, he knew he’d spend half of the movie looking at you instead anyway. It was quite cute how you wouldn’t notice, being way too immersed in the plot you must’ve watched a hundred times by now.

Every now and then, he would reach for the popcorn at the same time as you, with the mere intention of his fingers faintly touching yours, but by the third time they touched and he got no reaction from you, he decided he wanted more — having your fingers touch without you noticing was not enough.

So, he slid slightly down the sofa, just enough for his face to be on the same level as yours, and then he rested his head on your shoulder.

That, you noticed. Hyunjin realised by the way your body tensed up under his touch.

And, for a moment there, he considered sitting up and going back to his previous position, hating the thought of his proximity making you feel uncomfortable; but you greatly surprised him by leaning your head on his before he could do so, silently letting him know right then that you did in fact enjoy being this close to him.

In the end, he had nothing to worry about when it came to touching you, for you had made it clear a while ago that it didn’t bother you. But, then again, he wasn’t sure whether you were only enduring it or actually enjoyed it. He didn’t know which touches were okay and which ones were crossing the line. And the thing was, so far, you enjoyed every single kind of physical contact he had tried with you. They were all brief, innocent even, sweet.

Him leaning his head on your shoulder hadn’t made you tense up because he crossed some kind of line, but because, unknown to him, your head was a complete mess right then. Unable to let your previous conversation with Chan go, you were now questioning the meaning behind this small action of his.

“Considering what’s currently going on between the two of you”.

Was this what he meant by that? You and Hyunjin being this kind of close?

This was the first time he rested his head on your shoulder out of all the times you’d been sitting down on your couch just like this, and now you couldn’t tell whether you were overthinking too much because of your friend’s words, or whether you would’ve started overthinking just the same regardless of it.

Yes, he had held your hand before, but it was an act for the hotteok lady not to feel ashamed after thinking the two of you were a couple.

Yes, you had cuddled through the night on this very couch, but it was only because you passed out without either of you noticing.

Every other ‘major’ touch you shared had an excuse behind it. Hyunjin lying his head on your shoulder, however? It didn’t have one. He just felt like it, wanted to be close to you. And ultimately you ended up giving in and resting your head on his simply because you felt like it, too. It felt nice. Regardless of the mess going on in your head, you wanted to be close to him, too.

Was it even an overthinking matter anyway? Friends did this all the time, right? Both you and Chan used to do it a lot before you and Mingyu started dating. You and Yeji still did it a lot, too, up to this day. Why did it suddenly feel different with Hyunjin?

Damn you, Bang Chan. You certainly didn’t need this right now.

Once again, your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. This one was softer than your microwave’s beep, though, more like a buzz coming from one of the phones on the coffee table. Considering your phone wasn’t on silent mode right then, you knew it was Hyunjin’s.

“Your phone just buzzed” you let him know when he wouldn’t budge.

“Leave it” he replied simply, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What if it’s important?” You wondered.

He sighed, already giving in — as easily as he always did when it came to you. “I’m too comfy, can you pass it to me?”

You nodded in a second, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped your mouth when you leaned over to grab his phone and he followed your movement, as he refused to lift his head from its comfortable spot on your shoulder.

Just as you were back in your place and about to hand him his phone, though, its screen lit up, letting you see a single message from Dahye.

As soon as you saw it, you panicked, practically shoving the phone into Hyunjin’s hands.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have read that” you apologised, shamefully looking away.

Hyunjin frowned, sitting up in clear alert before he could check what you were talking about. His eyes opened wide once he read Dahye’s text and he immediately realised what it must’ve looked like to you.

It was a simple question: “Are you coming over tonight?”

No hello, no ‘Hyunjinie~’; just straight to the point, which couldn’t help but lead you to wonder whether texts like this and him going over to her place at night were an usual occurrence by now.

Hyunjin had told you all about her at New Year’s Eve. From how they kissed when he was drunk to how she wouldn’t leave him alone even years after it happened. He told you it was one sided, that he was tired of her constant insistence. But then why did that one text from her make it seem like that wasn’t precisely the case?

Unlike him, you hadn’t read Han’s message following Dahye’s, for it had just been delivered when he checked his phone right then. You hadn’t read the one message that gave the whole context to Dahye’s obscure text.

“She means to the pregame,” he was fast to clear up. “Han just texted me and apparently we’re going to a noraebang tonight and pregaming at Haeun’s. Dahye’s staying with her, so…”

You nodded, feeling like you weren’t in the place to say anything. It was his life, after all. He could be with whoever he wanted. He didn’t owe you any explanations. Fuck, did you want any explanations?

You didn’t know if you were feeling embarrassed for reading a text message that was supposed to be private, or if you were upset over the idea that Chan had just planted in your head being tainted not even an hour later.

Maybe you’d been thinking too much over something that wasn’t even there, being influenced by your best friend and what he thought was going on between you and Hyunjin. Maybe it was nothing after all.

But you couldn’t deny that you did feel quite uneasy over her text.

Were you upset that she was talking to him? Were you upset they were possibly hooking up? Was it being about Hyunjin you were upset about? Or were you just upset over how much the scene playing right in front of you resembled the times you’d just started questioning Mingyu’s relationship with Hayun while you were still together?

The times you’d catch the suspicious text messages popping up on his notifications, how nervous he would get and how he would start to throw excuse after excuse for you to believe he had nothing to do with her… You knew this feeling all too well, and you hated that you were feeling it again, with Hyunjin of all people, when you were not even together, you had no feelings for him as far as you knew, and, most importantly, you knew he was nothing like Mingyu at all.

And yet, here you were, feeling the goddamn lump in your throat you had felt one too many times by now because of a guy.

“Y/N?” He brought you back to reality. He looked worried. “I promise it doesn’t mean what it looked like”.

You had to hold back the hopeless laugh that threatened to escape your mouth at the sound of his words.

Words you had heard and decided to let pass way more times than you were proud of, and which brought you right back to the downfall of your last relationship.

You didn’t know which one of your concerns had to do with the trauma of your past relationship and which ones were actually related to the current situation you had just found yourself in.

When did it all stop being about Mingyu and it started being about Hyunjin?

“It’s okay” you gave him the most genuine smile you could give him, to let him know you were alright. Still, he didn’t look convinced. “You should get going, though”.

“I mean it, though” he pushed it when he could tell you weren’t convinced. “You can go through the t—”

“Hyunie,” you cut him off, this time with a soft chuckle. “It’s okay. I believe you”.

Did you?

“But apparently there is a pregame taking place in a bit, so you should get going”.

“You don’t even know at what time it is” he pouted.

“It’s a little past seven right now,” you pointed out, checking the time in your phone. “I’m guessing at seven thirty? Eight at most?”

Looking down to the group chat with his friends and realising you were right, he only made his pout more prominent.

“Am I right?” You wondered with a teasing smirk.

“Yes…” he let out a defeated sigh.

When you laughed triumphantly, he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go yet” he mumbled.

“You have to if you wanna make it in time with your friends”.

“I can always just skip pregame” he suggested, then sitting up again and looking at you with a mischievous smile. “Or skip night out as a whole”.

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin” you scolded him. “You are not pulling a New Year’s Eve stunt on me again”.

“A New Year’s Eve stunt?” He wondered rather amusedly.

“You know, when you said you’d only stay with me until midnight and then ended up not going back to your friends that night” you explained.

“This is different, though. We had plans before”.

“Staying on the couch watching movies with me can’t even compete with going out with your friends”.

“No, you’re right” he nodded. “It can’t compete because staying in with you would win every time”.

“Hyunjin…” you tried your best to sound stern and not melt over his words. “Go”.

“But…”

“I’m not letting you skip yet another night out with your friends because of me”.

“Come with me then?” He asked with puppy eyes.

You were quick to look away, knowing well enough you would fall for his charms otherwise. “I’ll have to pass this time”.

“Is it because of Dahye?” He carefully wondered, taking your following silence as a yes. “We can skip pregame and then I’ll tell my friends to make up some excuse for her not to join us at noraebang”.

“Hyunjin,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have to do that, just go have fun with them”.

“But I wanna be with you” he pouted once more.

“Hyunie…” it sounded like you were begging by now. “The movie’s about to end anyway”.

“And we were supposed to watch another once once it did” he reminded you, later allowing a taunting smirk to curve up his lips when a certain idea made it to his head. “Are you so set on making me leave right now because you’re afraid you might not want me to leave at all if I stay any longer?”

You snorted, playfully yet gently poking his forehead. “Someone’s gotten a little too cocky, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong, though?” He pushed it. “Do you really want me to go?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to go?” He repeated.

“Your friends—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you” he cut you off. “You have this really bad habit of always avoiding my questions, you know?”

You found yourself lowering your head, feeling oh-so-little under his piercing stare.

Although Hyunjin loved seeing you nervous because of him and it was a very rare occurrence coming from you, right then, he wanted your eyes on him. So, placing two fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back to his eye level — both of you only realising how close you actually were when your eyes met.

“It’s a simple yes or no question” he specified, gently removing a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me to go?”

“No” you answered truthfully this time.

He smiled brightly.

“But—BUT,” you emphasized before he could celebrate, leaning slightly back and lifting your index finger for him to pay attention. “Like I said, I’m not letting you bail on your friends again, there will come a time they’ll get tired of it. You deserve to let loose and have some fun only with them”.

“But we were supposed to hang out today…”

“And we did?”

He frowned, clearly not happy with your answer.

“Come onnn,” you tried your best to convince him. “We’ll hang out again tomorrow anyway”.

“We will?” He perked up instantly, enough to make you feel shy all over again.

“I mean, if you want to, of course…” you corrected yourself. You had really become that used to seeing him both days every weekend now for it to be more of a given, huh?

“I believe it’s pretty clear by now that I always want to hang out with you”.

You tried to hold back a smile — needless to say, your efforts were miserable. “Okay then, we’ll see each other tomorrow”.

“Okay,” he smiled, satisfied with your new plans. “Let’s go out this time, since staying in is too boring for you now”.

“When did I ever say that?!”

“When you said that this,” he motioned around your place. “Wasn’t competition for a night out”.

“That is so not what I meant?” You argued.

“Still,” he laughed, eyes softening when they locked with yours. “I’m taking you out for lunch, okay?”

You smiled timidly, nodding your head. “Let’s see if you’re not too hungover first. Might have to end up taking care of you instead”.

“Now I might get blackout drunk just to have you taking care of me tomorrow”.

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hide your amusement as you looked away. “Never mind, I will be sending either Yeji or your mum instead”.

“I’m joking, I’m joking” he laughed, looking for your eyes to lock with his again and gently grabbing your hands that were resting on your lap. “I’ll behave. Just let me take you out for lunch tomorrow, hm? Just us two”.

Staring down at your hands in his warm, soft ones, you couldn’t help but get invaded with more questions than answers.

It felt nice… being touched by him felt nice. Being close to him as a whole made you feel all warm inside. And he was right when he joked about you being scared you wouldn’t want him to leave at all if he stayed any longer, because truth was you already didn’t. You wanted him to stay, as close as you were minutes before.

Was it okay for you to be this close? Both physically and also emotionally? To the point of talking every single day and finding a way to see each other more than you saw your own best friends?

Did you enjoy his touch so much because it came from him? Or was it because you missed being touched?

Was he like this with everyone else? With Dahye? Anyone else at all? Did he treat you differently from them? Or was he just a flirty person and what you were now considering to be some kind of special treatment was just him acting the same as he did with every other girl?

Were you beginning to fall for him? Had you really been that oblivious to your own feelings? Or were you just looking too much into it now because of Chan’s influence, and mistaking a platonic —and rather strong— connection for something more?

Would Yeji be okay with it?

Too many questions were invading your mind, one right after the other, and you couldn’t find a single answer to any of them just yet.

However, although you didn’t know what you were feeling and were unsure about what demons were from your past and which ones were new, you did know one thing for sure: You were never as happy as when you were with him.

So, with a soft smile and a nod of your head, pushing any other thought for later tonight when you went to bed, you said the only thing you could answer to his request right then. “Okay”.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin @shyshyshytwice @nicoleparadas @broken-glowsticks

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thesvnandthemooon · 9 days ago

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: listened to juno in the car and had this idea 😋

summary: based on the song by sabrina carpenter (you babytrap nat); g!p nat, college!au, natasha's kind of a fuckboy

warnings: contains quite a bit of smut (hence the 18+ tag), babytrapping (= mildly toxic relationship?), buff athlete nat because that’s a warning in itself

word count: 11k (i fear it’s gotten impossible for me to write anything under 5k words lol)

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Initiating public sex in front of your friends should never be a good idea.

When you're as bored as you are right now, though, that opinion quickly begins to waver.

Hand under your shirt, your head on her shoulder. The movie you're watching is one you haven't seen before. Teen pregnancy, Michael Cera, indie soundtracks, yawn. You sigh, first quietly, then a little louder.

Natasha's nose brushes against your temple. Her hand travels higher up, fingers grazing your bra.

"Not a fan?", she mumbles. You lean into her, feeling her bicep against your shoulder. "We can ditch them."

"No." It's been a while since you last had time to spend with your friends. It's also been a while since you didn't sneak off early to fuck each other brainless. "Let's stay", you say, turning your head. "At least so we can see whether they actually fall for each other."

"No offense, but who would fall for that guy? Even I would look better in those shorts."

"Don't disrespect Michael", you mumble, smiling. "Also, you'd need bigger ones to fit everything, babe."

In front of you, Clint rolls his eyes. He lets out the longest sigh known to man and turns his head, his expression lacking any amusement whatsoever. He should be used to this kind of behavior, but to be fair, he just wants one night where your shameless PDA doesn't ruin everything.

"Alright", he says. "One more comment like that and-"

"God, you're a prude." She throws her empty red solo cup at him and he jumps up. "Chill."

He directs one last warning glare at you both, then he plops back down onto the floor. As soon as he's distracted again — drinking beer, talking to his girlfriend — she pulls you closer. Your hand finds her lower stomach, gently pressing against it.

Her breath hits your ear when she exhales, hot and slow. Your hand moves a little lower. Not too far, just enough to flirt with the limit. Her fingers curl into the soft skin of your stomach.

She doesn't say anything, though. Your fingertips dance over the fabric of her sweatpants. They graze the bulge there, prominent even when she's not hard, before finally cupping it. A sharp breath escapes her.

Still, she doesn't stop you. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, where Juno is currently giving birth. The way she's staring makes it seem like she's actually invested in what's happening, but you know the truth. One wrong move, and she'll either embarrass herself — or ruin her pants.

Or both. Most likely both.

You already look irresistible enough, wearing that sinfully short skirt. With your legs tucked under your butt and your vanilla perfume clouding her senses, your hand on her cock can only lead to a disaster.

"Y/N", she whispers through gritted teeth. You palm her crotch and feel her harden.

"Mhm?" You lean in and press your lips to her jaw. Red lipstick stains her skin. It's a sight so satisfying that you keep trailing kisses across her cheek.

Natasha closes her eyes. A noise, muffled and quiet, gets stuck in her throat. You scoff and move your hand to wrap your fingers around her length, only the fabric of her clothes separating you.

"What is it?", you ask, giving a few testing strokes. She shakes her head and you finally hear that soft whimper you'd been waiting for. "Aw, poor baby. All worked up."

In front of you, Steve mumbles something. He gets up, but before he can turn around and catch Natasha and you in this compromising situation, you move and quickly sit on her lap.

Bad idea. This might be worse than the almost-handjob you were about to give her.

Steve doesn't notice anything, but you do. Her head falls forward to lean against your shoulder, her hands grip your waist. You shift and grind against her boner, feeling her tip rub against the wet patch on your panties. At least your skirt hides everything.

You rub against her with more insistence, eyes closing. Her cock, though still clothed, fits perfectly between your folds. If you try hard enough, you can pretend she's inside of you.

"Fuck", she moans. You reach behind you to squeeze her, squeeze any part of her you can reach. "Fuck, I'll come."

Clint pauses, then slowly turns his head. You go completely still, eyes fixed on the tv and your hands folded in your lap. He knows you better than to believe this little act you're putting on, though.

You're surprised he doesn't drag you out by your collars, but you get sent back to your dorms anyway.

"Idiot", you say, grabbing the front of her letter jacket. You pull her into a deep kiss, her hands roaming your body. Salt and butter, sugar and green apple. The snacks of the evening created an addictive taste, and you silently thank Clint for not getting garlic knots again.

"You started it", she pants, trailing her lips down your neck. Your back hits the wall of the dormitory, her hard-on pressing against your hip. Her hand disappears under your skirt and palms your crotch, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. You're dripping down your thighs. "And I'll end it. Fuck."

You moan, the sound a little too obvious. It's quiet outside, apart from the occasional hum of car engines in the distance. Due to it being a Tuesday night, there are no parties. Most people are either in their dorms or pulling an all-nighter in the library. If anyone's got their window open, they'll hear you.

Natasha sinks her teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, a little louder, and she shushes you by nudging your panties aside with her fingers.

"Quiet", she mumbles, voice gentle like a praise. "Quiet for me, baby."

You writhe when she pushes two fingers into you. They slip in easily, your folds slick with wet heat, and immediately begin thrusting into you. You buck your hips to meet her movements, but she pulls out before you can even get started.

"Hey", you protest, ignoring the fact that she's already got her arm wrapped around you. Fingers in her mouth to lick off excess moisture, she pulls you toward the entrance. "Nat, I'm horny."

"Where's your roommate again?"

"Huh?" You frown, then lightly slap her chest. "Right! Good call."

She laughs quietly, the sound rough and strained, and walks up the stairs. Her hand moves to dip under your skirt. She gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. "I seriously don't know how you got into college, baby."

"Wow. Here I was, considering head tonight, and you made me change my mind."

"Oh, please." She pushes open the door and walks you to the bed. As soon as she's seated, you straddle her and wrap your arms around her neck. Her hands are under your shirt before you can even kiss her. Her tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open your mouth.

You grind against her boner, which only makes the ache between your legs worse. Natasha breaks the kiss to tug off your top. Her eyes dart a little lower, zeroing in on your chest. Full breasts, spilling out of a lacy bra with tiny hearts embroidered in it.

Her face sinks to bury itself between your boobs. You feel wet kisses on your skin.

"Taste so good."

"Nat."

"So soft."

"Nat."

She huffs, but doesn't look up. Her hands move your hips, making you rub against her cock. The crotch of her sweatpants is stained with a little wet patch. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me, not make out with my breasts all night long."

You feel the heat of her cheeks. Smirking faintly, you run your hand into her hair.

"Screw you."

"I'm trying." You twist a strand of her hair around your finger and tug. "Come on. I thought of a new position we could try."

That manages to make her look up, though she seems skeptic. It's almost like a game you've been playing — who can come up with the wildest position? Anything counts, as long as it leads to at least one of you having an orgasm.

"You better not disappoint this time", she says and kisses your jaw. Her hands splay out on your ass, fingertips brushing under the fabric of your panties. "That last one was a letdown."

You hum. You have to agree with her here — sidesaddle riding doesn't work no matter how you interpret it, apparently.

"This one's good", you say, getting off her lap. She groans.

"We could pause the game", she pleads, making puppy dog eyes at you. It's a fun game, sure, but sometimes, she wants to see your face while she fucks you. "Just tonight."

You tilt your head at her, eyebrows raised in silent approval for her to keep going.

"I'll let you top", Natasha adds. That's enough for you to be sold.

. . .

When you wake up, it's because of someone knocking on the door.

At first, you don't notice it. Too tight is sleep's grip on you, too warm is your bed. You're curled into Natasha, her arms wrapped around you and holding you close. But then they knock again, more insistently this time, and you sigh.

You squint to block out the sun and get up, stepping over the empty ramen cups you discarded on the floor after a late-night craving. Behind you, Natasha mutters something and rolls over. You slip into a loose shirt and open the door.

Randy, your resident advisor, pauses when he sees you. Messy hair, a thin shirt that barely reaches your thighs, your neck littered with marks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes?", you drawl. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His freckled face flushes pink and he coughs. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"There, uhm- there was a noise complaint", he says, fingers drumming against the clipboard he for some reason always carries around. "From one of the other students."

You give him a blank stare. "Okay?"

"No, not okay. Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, but maybe keep it down? The walls are quite thin, and the excessive noise, uh..." He sighs, eyes flitting down your body again. He shifts awkwardly, clipboard angled a bit, and you realize that he's trying to conceal a certain problem he's run into.

If the situation was different, you'd be irritated. But watching Randy, the 30-something guy who started working here two years ago, stumble over his own words and stutter like a nervous first grader, is too amusing to genuinely get pissed.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Deep breaths, honey. Don't faint on me."

He tries to glare at you, but fails miserably. "Y/N, I'm being serious. Others want to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll tell Nat."

Behind you, Natasha groans into your pillow. "Tell them to mind their own business", she mutters, voice rough with sleep. "Or move the fuck out."

He briefly peeks into the room, then directs his attention toward you again. You give him a challenging look.

"Nat", he repeats. The way he says her name does manage to irritate you now. You know what others think of her. You also know they're not entirely wrong. "Oh, yeah, fine. Good."

"Good", you repeat, stepping back with one hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Randy? I know you've been getting, like, zero action lately, but I just woke up. Not even you can be that desperate. Maybe touch some grass?"

He lets out a choked sound. Before he can say anything, you wave two fingers at him and close the door.

"Buh-bye!", you call, just before the door snaps in. You twirl around and spot Natasha, still half asleep and sprawled out on your bed. Her red hair is loose for once, messy and soft, and you ignore the urge to get back into bed with her.

She hums, stretching like a cat, all lazy smiles and toned arms. An admittedly enticing sight. "Got rid of him?"

"Oh yeah." You run your hand along her arm. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. He's a creep." She puts her hand on the back of your thigh, tugging on it. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's scared you'll just slip away. "Feel bad for me. The abandoned girlfriend."

You huff, not budging. You'd love to go back to bed, but you have other things to do.

"Classes", you remind her, turning away. You take off your shirt and she groans. "Shower, too." Your panties follow. This time, she lets out a full blown moan.

You turn around and give her an unimpressed (albeit slightly amused) look. "And that is why we got a noise complaint."

"Come on", she whines. "Not even professors like their own classes. You can afford ten more minutes, baby. I won't even make you put on your clothes again."

"You say that like it's supposed to benefit me."

"It benefits both of us." Natasha grunts and finally sits up, slouching. Her arms are crossed over her lap as her eyes travel up and down your body. It takes you a second to realize why.

She tilts her head, cheeks pink. The expression on her face is both guilty and hopeful, like she's weighing her odds. A productive day or a few more minutes — maybe hours, if she plays her cards right — in bed with her?

Her chances aren't looking too bad.

"You can't be serious", you deadpan. Of course, she is.

"I'll be quick."

"You're never quick!"

"You can't blame me for that", she retorts. "God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you for the next few hours?"

"Next few 'hours'? Babe, you have practice today. Plus, I wanted to go shopping."

Natasha flops onto her back dramatically. It gives you a full view of her body, head to toe, with her not-so-little problem included. You bite the inside of your cheek frustratedly as you realize she's chipping away at your resolve.

"Practice isn't that important", she mutters, her forearms covering her eyes.

"Babe, you're team captain", you say, turning around. Focus on something else, anything else. If you cave, you will definitely be late. Or, worst case scenario, you won't leave your dorm before lunchtime — again. "Just...take a cold shower. I'll see you tonight."

She mutters something about 'showers being a scam' under her breath, then finally gets up. You watch her gather her stuff and get dressed, but you keep her letter jacket clutched to your chest. She raises her eyebrows and reaches out her hand.

"No."

"That's mine."

"Nope."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but ultimately just kisses you before slipping into her shoes. She can't help it — she's weak for you.

"I'll get you back for this", she says, then the door falls shut behind her.

. . .

The basketball circles the hoop once, twice, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats.

One leg crossed over the other, you lean forward. Red lips part slightly, manicured nails dig into the thin skin of your knee. All eyes are on the ball, which wobbles — but then it slips off and bounces away. You groan and toss your head back.

"Come on, Romanoff!", someone next to you shouts.

"Damn it", you curse. You go to her games all the time, and usually, you enjoy it. Watching her miss a shot, however, is not the most pleasant part of the experience.

Natasha runs her hand over her hair, clearly frustrated. She's been off her shooting game today, and she doesn't know why. She's not doing anything different.

You watch her trail backwards, bouncing on her heels and her eyes locked on the hoop. When she hears her team's complaints, she turns around. She yells at a teammate, then at a player from the opposite team, before the coach calls for a timeout.

She jogs to the bench, snatches her water bottle, and tips her head back to take a swig. Baby hairs stick to her sweaty temples, the veins on her arms popping. You lean forward.

"Nat!"

She looks up, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Then she realizes it's you and, just like that, her scowl softens. She glances at her team to check if anyone's watching her before approaching you. You're in the first row, right next to the home team's bench, so all she has to do is lean on the barrier separating the seats from the court.

"Hey", she says.

"'Hey'? Are you kidding me? What the hell was up with that shot?"

Natasha frowns and huffs. "Alright, I don't need a lecture right now. So unless you want to kiss me for good luck-"

A girl from her team — one you don't know too well — nudges her. Natasha barely glances at her, but it's enough for you to lean forward and tug at her ear.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm serious! You missed by, like, half a mile."

The glare she gives you is deadly, but you deserve it. You are being a little unfair. For good reason, though: whenever you're there to berate her, she suddenly starts playing much better. It's like magic. She needs a healthy dose of bullying from you for her performance to be at its peak.

"Alright", she snaps. "Be my guest. Suit up and try, if you think you'll do better."

"Oh, no." You reach up and brush your fingers along her jaw before resting them under her chin. "You're the best, aren't you? So show me that's true, and I'll reward you. But losers don't get a reward."

"You drive a hard bargain", she mutters. You smile innocently and tap her bottom lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll...do better, I guess."

"That's my girl", you purr and, with a light push against her mouth, send her back to her team.

The game continues.

Before halftime, Natasha's team was trailing 34-37, but after some strong defense and a layup, the score is tied again. That is, until the opposing team hits a couple of shots.

You're agitated, but confident. At least you're pretty sure you are.

Most of her games are like this. Her team needs to be slightly behind for her to be able to give it her all. You convince yourself it won't be different this time, either.

Eyes zeroed in on Natasha, you watch her every move. How she dribbles the ball, weaves through the defenders, loses the ball again. The game is a close one. They're playing against one of the better teams this time, and it shows.

It's a back and forth between the teams. The opposing team gets a small lead, which is quickly lost thanks to another shot. During the last minute, they're tied again. Teams are trading baskets, but you don't know whether you should stay positive.

For a while, it looks bad. Time is running out. Then, in a split second, Natasha is open at the top of the arc. The pass is fast, almost too high, but she catches it. Your breathing stops for a moment and you barely manage to restrain yourself from jumping up from your seat.

Five seconds left. The team's are neck-and-neck. Natasha has the ball.

Three seconds left. She makes her move, stepping back for a three-pointer. She rises, muscles coiled, and lets the ball fly.

One second left. After cutting through the air and briefly hitting the hoop, the ball swishes through the net.

66-64. The buzzer sounds. Her team has won.

You're on your feet before you realize it, yelling along with the audience. Natasha's team crashes into her the second she's back on the ground, but she only lets them slap her back and punch her arms for a few seconds before she weaves through the small crowd.

You hop over the barricade and into her arms, not caring about the fact she's all sweaty. Her lips press against your neck, her hand rubs up and down your back. She spins you around.

"You did it!"

"Because of you."

"That shot was amazing. More of that, please."

Natasha laughs, low and rough and exhausted, and tips her head back to look up at you. You smile and kiss her. She tastes like salt and Gatorade.

"Still the best?", she teases after pulling away. The soles of your sneakers make a quiet thudding sound against the vinyl floor.

"Always", you promise, pecking her lips once more. Natasha smirks and tugs off her jersey to hand it to you. With the fabric gone, she's almost naked. Only a sports bra and shorts cover her body. You earn a few stares from the opposing team, who isn't used to your little ritual, but you don't notice. It's a nice view, so you'd be an idiot to look at anyone but her.

You put on the jersey and let her pull you into her side again. She kisses you, slow and unhurried, while leading you back toward her team.

It's a last minute decision from the team to go to a bar together. Natasha takes a quick shower before you leave, now wearing something more comfortable. Getting her to dress up is a losing battle, so you don't even try this time. Plus, there's something distinctly attractive about the grey sweatpants she's sporting (or rather, what she's sporting inside the grey sweatpants).

You stay glued to her side pretty much all night. You're in her lap, her arm firmly holding you in place. The bass makes the ground vibrate and the alcohol is clouding your senses, but it's still early enough for you to be somewhat aware of reality.

You lean your cheek against her temple, then turn your head to brush your lips against her skin. She hums and squeezes your thigh, but her attention wavers. Two girls approach her, both of them around your age and probably fellow students.

Natasha glances at them, eyebrows raised. You cup her nape and brush your thumb against her hairline.

The girls smile, a little too brightly, and start talking about the basketball game. They're shameless — even with you, wearing Natasha's jersey and sitting on her lap, they're still going on and on about the game and the shots she made.

With every word that leaves their glossy pink lips, Natasha's focus on you slips more and more. Her hand on your thigh loosens. Her gaze, first flickering between you and the others, starts to linger on them. Her lips curve into that confident little smile you know too well.

You roll your eyes and scoot off her lap. If she has to do this, you don't want to be present. You excuse yourself and go to the restroom, where you freshen up. More lipstick, more perfume. You lift the front of Natasha's jersey and take a whiff to see whether it smells. It's not horrible, but noticeable enough, so you decide to change into the top you brought.

When you return to the bar, Natasha has leaned over to the girls. Arms crossed on the bar's counter, a lazy smirk on her face. The post-game glow is on full display. She tilts her head and mumbles something. It takes you a moment to realize she's flirting.

The girls are delighted. Giggling, shrugging, leaning forward as well. Their expressions indicate they clearly believe at least one of them has a shot. You understand why — Natasha, even after getting into a relationship with you, never quite got rid of her fuckboy-image —, but that doesn't mean you're not furious.

You want to compose yourself, you really do. You're pretty sure this isn't what it looks like, anyway. Fingernails digging into your palms, you watch them for another moment. Then, Natasha subtly bites her lip in that way that first drew you to her, and you've had enough.

You're next to her within seconds, your hand wrapping around her wrist. She lets out a grunt as you drag her away, leaving the two girls speechless and mildly annoyed.

"Have you lost your mind?", she complains, finally finding her voice again. You're already halfway into a bathroom stall.

"Have you?", you snap, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Natasha pauses, her eyes traveling up and down your body. The top, almost translucent and leaving little to the imagination, has her more than a little distracted. "My face is up here, you bastard."

"What? Hey!" She frowns. "What happened? What'd I do?"

There's a significant height difference between her and you, but it's not like that ever bothered you. You shove her against the wall, your eyes blazing. Her first instinct is to step forward — she's taller, all shoulders and muscle —, but she can tell you're pissed. Once she realizes she's fucked up, she lifts her hands and almost shrinks under your glare.

"Are you playing dumb? Don't play dumb!"

"What are you even- I was talking to them! They asked about the game!"

"You were flirting!"

Natasha scoffs, her cheeks a nervous-rosy pink. It'd look cute if you weren't about to slam her head through the plastic wall of the stall.

"I wasn't 'flirting'", she argues. "I was talking to them."

"No", you retort. "You were flirting. I could tell. They had that glittery look in their eyes stupid bitches get when you're close to them."

She blinks, caught off-guard, and her head tilts. The word you used is one you usually stay away from. The second you start cussing out other girls? Okay, now she knows you're mad mad.

"Baby", she says slowly, "I swear we were just talking. Nothing else. I don't give a fuck about anyone but you, and you know it."

"Right." You let out a bitter laugh. The sound makes her stomach tighten. "That's good to hear. Maybe it'd be believable if you hadn't tried to-"

The door of the bathroom stall next to yours opening cuts you off. You pause and turn when you hear the quiet pattering sound. Toilet paper rips. The person flushes. Then, shuffling of feet. It takes unbelievably long, and you let out a long sigh.

"Can you hurry?", you finally bark, and the person drops their purse. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry!", they say, their voice a squeak, and leave the stall. Water runs, more paper towels, then the door falls shut. You turn to Natasha again, whose ears are as pink as her cheeks.

You raise your eyebrows, as if daring her to say something. Her mouth opens, then closes, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Okay", she says. "Maybe it was flirting, in a way. I didn't mean to, though."

Your fingers tighten on the front of her zip hoodie. Her eyes widen in silent panic.

"You can't flirt without meaning to flirt!"

"You totally can", she says, her back thudding against the wall once more. "Can you stop that?! Jesus, you're scary."

That last bit is mumbled, but you hear it anyway. It's enough to make you laugh — a sound that slips out unintentionally — but you quickly shake your head.

"I can be way scarier, you know. This is nothing."

"I totally believe that", she says, frowning petulantly. "You're turning into a tiny terror."

Despite your anger, your lips twitch again. Your grasp on her hoodie loosens, your scowl softens the tiniest bit. It's enough for Natasha, who first tried to gauge your mood for a few seconds, to take a leap of faith.

"The sexiest tiny terror", she adds, pulling you closer. You sigh. "My tiny terror. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

"This feels like manipulation, babe."

Her eyes light up — babe. She's getting somewhere.

"It's not", she promises, kissing your forehead. Her hands roam your sides, your hips, and slip under your top. "I'm being serious. Scout's honor."

"You're so full of shit."

Natasha grins and keeps kissing your face. Your cheeks, your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth. Unfortunately, each press of her lips against your skin softens you further. You'll probably just have to accept she's an expert at buttering you up.

"Come on now", she mumbles, her mouth against your ear. You giggle quietly when her tongue briefly flicks against your earlobe. "You know you love me."

"I must've done something terrible in my past life to deserve this."

She hums, her hands palming your sides. You exhale and lean into her, willing yourself to not give in — and failing. Her lips brush against your neck, sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls up your spine.

Without really noticing, you press closer. Natasha's fingers find the clasp of your bra and swiftly unhook it.

"Hey", you protest, trying to bat her hand away. She buries her face against your neck, but doesn't budge. Her hand slides around to your front. "I can't believe I put up with you."

"Me neither", she mumbles, smirking faintly. "I'm a lucky idiot."

"Well, that's true."

Natasha kisses your neck, then your shoulder. Her hands push up your top and reveal your skin inch by inch. Your breath stutters when, suddenly, the roles are reversed and you feel your back against the wall.

Your hands come up to tangle in her hair. She grips your thighs and mouths at your neck.

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"Sure."

Her teeth sink into your neck. You barely manage to speak.

"I mean it."

Underwear around your ankles, you help her tug her sweatpants down. She struggles with the condom, but once the piece of plastic is wrapped around her cock snugly, she holds your hips in place and buries herself inside you. No time to adjust — she sets a fast pace.

The back of your head hits the wall and you let out a moan. Natasha keeps rutting into you, moaning breathily, your hands in her hair and her hands gripping your ass. She stuffs you up to the brim, cock pulsing and twitching, and pounds into you relentlessly.

Right as you're just about to tumble over the edge, the bathroom door opens again. You feel a moan rise up in your throat and quickly slap your own hand over your mouth, stifling the sound. Natasha laughs breathlessly, but then whines against your neck.

Whoever entered seems oblivious. They're on the phone, talking rapidly, while water flows in the background. You hear the clinking of stilettos on tiles and then smell a faint waft of some overly sweet perfume.

This whole situation usually wouldn't pose much of an issue. You're close enough, and you know from experience that you can keep quiet when needed. But Natasha, being who she is, slows down. Her grip on you loosens, her movements are drawn-out. Your thighs tremble and you groan against your own palm.

"I'll kill you."

"Ssh, baby", she mumbles, dragging her lips along your jaw. Her hips meet yours, again and again and again, but she's going too slow to really achieve anything. "Don't get us caught."

Every deliberate roll of her hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You whimper and bite down on your palm harder, meeting her movements with your hips. The pressure increases, and so does the need to push Natasha to go faster. Your thighs clench around her, but all she does is smile against your neck. You rock against her hips, desperate for more.

"Fuck you", you hiss, but the words die on your tongue when she picks up the pace. She ruts into you, urging you closer to the edge while you wrestle with the impulse to shout her name.

"I love you", she says, each word punctuated by a soft grunt. The bathroom door falls shut, and you finally get coaxed into that sweet high of mindless oblivion.

. . .

The sun is long gone, replaced by the milky light of the moon that's seeping into the library.

Natasha called it a 'study-session', hoping it'd turn into something else entirely. But exams are coming up, and as much as you'd like to hide in the encyclopedia aisle and hook up again, you'd rather she passes.

You're sitting on the table in front of her, with her head in your lap, as you test her knowledge on the subject. Sports Law — something you've only gotten familiar with since dating her.

"That's wrong", you say, running your fingers through her hair. "It's title IX of the education amendments of 1972. You should know that, babe."

She groans and turns her head, burying her face between your thighs. You smile faintly and drum your fingers against her scalp.

"Who cares? I'll pass, anyway. I always do."

"I want you to ace this one, though."

"Pipe dream."

"Nat."

Another groan. She pushes up the fabric of your shirt and shifts, her lips brushing against your lower abdomen. You bite back a soft sound of pleasure.

Not now. You have other things to focus on. But god, her hands start massaging your thighs, and her lips feel warm and plush, and the library seems empty enough. Heat pools in your lower belly and you quickly shove her off you.

"No", say, voice strained. "Study. Now."

"You're boring", Natasha mutters, grabbing the book and skimming the pages. "I know all of this. It's easy."

"You got four questions wrong", you counter, glancing at the screen of her phone when it buzzes. Her wallpaper flashes on the screen — a picture of you, only wrapped into silky bedsheets, with kiss marks on your shoulders and your hair a mess. But that's not what catches your attention. It's the message that just popped up.

A girl named Tara.

Natasha lifts her head and peeks at her phone. You snatch it before she can reach for it.

"Who's that?", you prompt.

"A girl from Sports Economics", she says, sitting up. She tries to grab the phone, but you hold it out of her reach. "Babe."

"Why's she texting you at midnight?"

"Not sure", she replies, irritated, and tries to grab it again. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the phone. "I could tell you if you'd let me read the damn text."

"She always texts you this late?", you ask, glancing up at the phone.

A simple message — hey, you awake? :) — but still unexpected enough to annoy you. You squint and try to look at her profile picture.

"Hold on, is that the girl who said hi to you in the cafeteria the other day? The one with the pink eyeshadow?"

"Yeah", she says, her arm dropping in defeat. "Tara. Like I said, I know her from Econ."

"It's midnight", you mutter, bringing the phone back down. Before Natasha can protest, you've used her face to unlock the phone and opened the chat. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs, so you pinch her bottom lip. "You should tell her to find some new makeup. I thought she was fighting for her life against allergies."

"You're mean."

"Her makeup sucks."

"Doesn't make it any less mean", she argues, resting her head on your lap again. She sighs, eyes closing, and waits for you to finish whatever you're doing. "Still scrolling?"

"It's a long chat", you mutter, thumb swiping over the screen. Luckily, the messages seem innocent enough. At least Natasha's do. "She wants you."

"I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Nat", you say, putting her phone aside. "Straight girls want you, too."

She looks up, smirking. You flick her forehead.

"Ow!"

You narrow your eyes at her, watching her rub the spot you flicked. "You're enjoying this."

"I am", she says bluntly. "You're going on and on about some girl I really don't care about."

"She cares about you", you argue. "In the past, that seemed to be enough."

Natasha scoffs and sits up, leaning back in her chair. She studies you for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then sighs. Her legs stretch out under the table.

"Exactly", she finally says. "In the past. Not now, not last week, but when it didn't matter."

"I feel like some things don't stop mattering."

"Like my love for you", she flirts. You kick her side and she lets out a quiet 'oof'. "What'd I do to deserve that, huh?!"

"You can't flirt your way out of everything, you know!"

"I'm not flirting my way out", she protests, looping her arms around your waist and tugging you closer. You sigh, thighs snugly wrapped around her torso. "I love you. Nothing can change that."

"No?" You give her a skeptical look. She just shakes her head and leans in, pressing a few kisses to your chest.

"No", she mumbles. "I love you. Period. Now stop worrying."

You stare at her as she nuzzles and kisses your chest, slowly moving upwards. Her thoughts are somewhere else already, whereas you're still stuck. Tara, the girls at the bar, the stares Natasha gets all day long. Your worries, fears, and how easily she can dismiss them. How, when you're mad, she manages to worm her way out of just about everything.

Smooth words and soft touches are her specialty. She uses them like a tool, which can be hot, but also incredibly frustrating. You know why it's so easy for her — because she knows you'll stay. You won't leave. She claims that the same thing is true for her, but maybe she'll need to prove that.

The thought creeps in slowly, dangerously. It's nothing more than a small, fleeting idea at first, but the longer you watch her, the more drawn to it you become.

Natasha says she's yours. She says there's nothing to worry about. You'd love to know whether she actually means that.

She loves you, after all. Logically, she'd love a tiny version of you just as much.

"Hey", you mumble, eyes focused on her. She pauses, lips pressed to your jaw. "You seem distracted."

"Can't help it. I'll need a different study-buddy to be able to concentrate on anything but you."

"Oh yeah?" You glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. Almost 1am. "It's late, you know. We might as well leave."

She hums against your skin and looks up. "Your dorm's still empty?"

"Mhm", you say before you're able to reconsider this whole plan. "We got the whole room to ourselves."

"Well then", she says, getting up and pecking your lips, "what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The hallway is as empty as the library was. Natasha presses you against the wall, caging you in between a corner and her body, and kisses you. Hands bunch up your shirt, feel heated skin. You wrap your arms around her neck and hum into the kiss.

Her hand dips into the back pocket of your jeans. She fishes out the key to your dorm, then leads you down the hallway. One arm wrapped around your waist, she unlocks the door using her free hand.

Bodies tumble onto the mattress together. Breathy laughter, stripping of clothes, bare skin on bare skin. Natasha turns, opens the drawer of the nightstand next to you to look for condoms, but you tug her on top you again. She doesn't resist and kisses you, lips moving and messing up your makeup.

You feel her nestled inside of you, every vein and throb noticeable. She grabs and angles your thigh for deeper access, her moans mingling with yours. Lipstick marks smudged on her cheek, hickeys on your chest. The bed frame hits the wall with every thrust, muffled thuds filling the air.

Her hand finds your lower belly, pressing down on it. Natasha feels her own outline through the soft skin and groans quietly. Teeth nip at your neck, her hips meeting yours a few more times. Then, the anticipated release and the relief that comes with it.

Warmth pools deep inside of you. It drips down your thighs, staining the bedsheets, but all you manage to do is turn your head and bury your face in her neck. Your fingers brush against your stomach, and the full acceptance of what might happen starts to set in.

. . .

Weeks have passed. Late spring has turned into something resembling an early summer.

A little '+' confirms it.

You're alone when you take it. It's quite early, not even 6am, but you got woken up by someone yelling in the hallway. The test was right next to you, lying on your nightstand like a bad omen, then you finally grabbed it and got up.

Taking it wasn't hard, but checking the result is. You stare at the test in your hand, your brain too tired and sleepy to process everything. Leaning against the wall of your dorm's bathroom, you try to let reality sink in. It doesn't feel real. Not yet, at least.

Knowing it is real helps, though. You put the test aside and exhale, fingers drumming against the tiled wall behind you. Your thoughts are more of a mess than you thought they'd be.

It was a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. It was also incredibly stupid. Yet you're here, eyes glued to the ceiling, and find yourself regretting nothing at all. At this point, not even the thought of her reaction scares you.

She said she loved you. All you're doing is putting that love to the test. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bullshit. You know you've fucked up.

You meet her after class, as you agreed on earlier that morning. She seems calm, happy, completely oblivious to what secret you're (literally) carrying with you. Hands on your waist, she pecks your lips, then she grabs your backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

It's a warm afternoon, so you head to the mall. You grab a few things you need — new pajamas, some shampoo, a water bottle to replace the one you lost. Natasha tosses a pack of condoms into the shopping cart and you barely stop yourself from reacting too obviously.

On your way out, you pass a store that exclusively sells baby-related items. Strollers, onesies, highchairs. You avert your eyes and stay close to Natasha's side.

Late evening. You're back on Clint's couch, passing around pizza and trying to decide on a movie. Clint complains about Laura's last pick — Juno — which, apparently, most of you didn't like too much.

Natasha pulls your legs over her lap, lightly massaging your shin. She's only in a white tank top that leaves her shoulders and arms on full display. You'd be distracted if you weren't worrying about other things already.

"I wasn't a fan, either", she says, glancing at Clint. "But I did like what it led to."

"Right. I swear to everything that's holy, if you start something like that again-"

"Seriously, calm down." She raises her eyebrows. "Keep ranting like that and poor Laura will think you're going celibate."

He rolls his eyes and slumps into the couch, one hand swatting at her. She laughs and bats him away. When she glances at you, she notices how quiet you are, and nudges you.

"You're unusually non-hyper verbal, baby."

"I'm good", you say, stretching. "Just...bored."

You're not bored. You're far from bored. But you needed an excuse. However, Natasha takes it the wrong way, and a tiny smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?", she says, running her hand higher. First it touches your knee, then it brushes under the hem of your dress. "Bathroom's empty. Maybe we'll even make it into the bedroom. I heard Mr. Prude over there got a new mattress."

"Romanoff, I will-"

"Shush." She raises her eyebrows at him before leaning closer to you. Her breath fans your cheek, her voice is a raspy murmur. "If you want us to ditch them, just tell me. I'll get us outta here."

"I'm fine", you assure her. "Just get me a beer."

Natasha nods and turns, grabbing a can from the ice bucket they prepared. She cracks it open right as you realize you probably shouldn't drink it.

"Actually", you stammer, "I'm good. None for me. Thank you."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment on it. Shrugging, she takes a sip.

"Sure", she says. "I can get you a coke?"

"No, thanks." You shake your head and sink into the cushions, trying to keep the heat from your face. It's difficult, though, and it only gets worse when a character in whatever movie you're watching (truthfully, you aren't paying much attention) is revealed to be pregnant.

You rub your neck, throwing glances at Natasha every now and then. She's still oblivious. Then, she catches you staring, and her head tilts in silent question. You pause before getting up and dragging her along.

"What...?"

"Not in my bed!", Clint shouts.

"We're not having sex!", you yell back, slamming the door to his bedroom shut.

"We're not?"

You turn toward Natasha. "No", you say, awkwardly crossing your arms. "We're not."

"Shame", she says, smirking, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She studies you for a moment and her smirk softens. "You alright?"

"I'm fine", you lie. "We need to talk, though."

Her smirk disappears entirely. She frowns, her gaze steady and attentive. Alright, you think. You're mine now. Have fun finding out about it.

"Talk?", she says, leaning against the closet. "About what, baby? Did you do something?"

"Uhm..."

"You did?" She grins faintly. "Wow. Didn't expect that to ever happen. How bad is it?"

"It's not funny", you say, plucking at the strap of your dress. "You won't be grinning like that once I tell you."

"Don't underestimate me", she teases, hands slipping out of her pockets to rest on your arms. "Anything can be funny, if you're looking at it the right way."

"Oh yeah?" You pause. "How funny is us being in this for the long haul?"

"Not very funny, honestly. I wouldn't mind, though."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. Your heart beats faster and faster, but at this point, you have to say it. "Good to know."

"It is?" Natasha hums and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your nose. "Want to make it official, or why's that?"

"I mean, having a baby is pretty official."

The second those words leave your lips, Natasha freezes. First, she just stares at you. Her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, then another, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched into her face.

The gears in her head start turning. She tries recalling whether you've been using protection, but then her brain fails her, and she exhales sharply. Silence lingers, heavy and uncomfortable, before she finally blurts out.

"We're what?"

"I'm pregnant", you say. "Took a test. It's positive."

"You...I..." She rakes her hand through her hair, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another step backwards, and her back collides with the wall. "We were careful."

"Oh, no." You watch her, growing more worried. "We weren't. Not that night after the library."

Natasha looks at you. Her brain eventually catches up.

"Oh, fuck", she curses. "Fuck. Y/N!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!"

"Can you calm down?" You tilt your head. "You said you're in it for the long haul, no?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Uhh, guys?"

You whip around. The door is still shut, but Clint is standing behind it.

"What?", you call, irritated.

"Look, no idea what the hell is going on in there, but if you need help..."

"No help. We're fine."

"Are we?", Natasha hisses. You look at her.

"Oh, relax", you say, rolling your eyes. "You'll live."

She lets out a panicked wheeze and scrubs her hand down her face. You're being too calm, too nonchalant, whereas she feels like she's about to have a dozen panic attacks at once. She's not one to let herself get tied down. At least, that's what she always told herself. You may have changed that belief, but old habits die hard.

"I can't have a kid now! I- I have practice, I have games!" Then, as if the thought just hit her: "This is like a teen pregnancy."

"You're in college."

"Same thing!"

"Absolutely not the same thing", you argue, stepping closer. "Look, it won't be easy, but it could be worse. I mean, you love me — now imagine how much you'll love a tinier, cuter version of me."

She shoots you a glare, her breathing still uneven and rapid. "Don't think you can get much tinier."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Absolutely not", she mutters. "Pretty sure that's what got me into this mess."

"You're saying I should've gotten railed by someone else?"

Another glare. This one shuts you up. Natasha turns, looks out the mirror, glances at the striped bedsheets and the painting on the wall. Finally, she looks at you.

"I shouldn't even ask, since you seem perfectly fine", she mutters, crossing her arms. "But what about you? You okay? I mean..."

"I'm fine", you say, more quietly now. She nods and looks away again. You step closer and cup her face, standing on your tiptoes to litter small kisses across her cheeks and forehead. With every touch, her panic softens into mild anxiety. Then, at last, her arms wrap around your waist.

You look at her. Natasha exhales sharply, like she's trying to make peace with it all. She doesn't smile, but her fingertips graze your lower belly.

"If we're doing this", she mumbles stubbornly, "I get to teach them basketball."

"Fine."

"They get a jersey. A tiny one. With my number on it."

You sigh. "Sure."

"Also, no more junk food. The baby eats what you eat."

You scoff, squishing her face. She gives you another halfhearted glare.

"I will end you", you say, squeezing again. She shakes her head and tries to pull away from your grasp. "I mean it! What's life without fries?"

"Depressing", she says, hands sliding to your front and then back to your waist. "But healthier for whatever is growing inside you."

Your expression turns deadpan. "It's a baby."

"Show me an ultrasound first."

"You know what, maybe I did make this up."

..."Excuse me?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"No", she protests. "Now I want to see a doctor's note."

You let out a long exhale and pull her closer, your face against her neck. You press a kiss to her pulse point to keep yourself from slapping her. Sometimes, you wonder whether she's annoying intentionally.

But then, she softens. Her arms wrap around you, muscles enveloping you in safety and warmth, and her lips press kisses to your hair. Her heartbeat against your ear, her scent everywhere around you, you feel yourself melt a little.

"If this is real", she says, shushing you before you can interfere, "I'll do my best, alright? I'm not good at sticking around. I know that. But you have made me stick around, and I'm sure the baby will only make me stick around longer."

"'Longer'", you mumble, voice muffled, "better mean forever in this case."

"I said what I said."

"Romanoff."

She laughs, still shaking a little, and tightens her hold on you. Her nose is buried in your hair.

"We're also finding an apartment", she murmurs. "The dorm's too small. Can't fit a crib in there."

"Obviously."

"And we're not telling the others. Not yet."

You hum, hands sliding under her top and feeling the muscles on her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, making you press closer to her. She groans softly.

"No?", you ask, drawing shapes on her lower back.

"No. Not until I don't feel like passing out just thinking about it."

You laugh, fingertips pressing into her skin. You look up at her and smile. The smile you get in return is a bit strained, but her hands come up to cup your face. You lean in and kiss her.

First, it's soft and slow. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. A quiet hum comes from her throat.

Then, you're walking backwards. You feel the mattress against your legs. You pull away and raise your eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Cut me some slack. I need to relieve stress."

You huff, but she's got you on your back before you can say anything else. Your hands fumble with her hair, releasing it from the loose bun, and watch the red strands come free. She hums and kisses your shoulder.

Her hand dips under your dress, traveling upwards until her fingers reach your stomach. She touches it, tentatively, before fumbling with your underwear. You let out a sound of approval, head dropping onto the mattress.

"This baby better not change anything", Natasha says, bunching up your dress around your waist.

"Change what?", you ask lazily.

"This. Us." She leans down and kisses your thigh. "You know what I mean."

"I truly don't."

She palms herself through her sweatpants, her eyes shooting you an unimpressed look. "You can't be that dense. Jesus Christ, my child is going to be a moron."

You scoff and flick her shoulder, but there's a faint smirk on your face. This is good. This is safe, familiar. "Can't believe I let you knock me up."

Natasha smiles. For a split second, her fingers twitch against your lower stomach before she focuses on pulling your underwear down. As if on instinct, she reaches for the condom in the pocket of her sweatpants, but then pauses. She glances at you. A look is exchanged, and you both start laughing.

It's slow, this time. Slow and lazy, unhurried. Your earlier 'fight' scared Clint off, so he doesn't even interrupt you. Neither of you is sure what's coming next, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

. . .

By the way Natasha is staring at the screen, you'd think she's seeing an alien.

Truthfully, it might be one. You're not sure. All you know is that the white blob does not resemble a human in the slightest.

You glance at the ob-gyn, who seems unfazed. She keeps moving the transducer over your gel-slicked stomach, making the image on the screen waver. Finally, she stops and hits a button. The image freezes.

You squint at the screen. A blob. A vaguely human-shaped blob, maybe, but still a blob.

"There's the baby."

You look at Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, seeming helpless. Where?, she mouths.

The doctor is used to this. She doesn't even need to ask you anything to zoom in and point again, but it only helps minimally.

"Oh, yeah", Natasha finally lies. "I see it."

"Yeah", you add, trying to avoid the ob-gyn's eyes. "It's cute."

The woman sees right through you. She smiles faintly and prints the picture for you, then she wipes your stomach down with a few paper towels. "It's fine if you don't see it", she says, throwing the towels away. "Most parents don't. Babies do look a bit deformed in the beginning."

"But it's healthy?", Natasha asks.

"Completely healthy. Don't you worry." She smiles and tugs off her nitrile gloves. "I'll be back in a minute, alright? Feel free to look at the image and play 'Where's Waldo.'"

You hum noncommittally and glance at the ultrasound picture. Still a blob.

Natasha's fingers twitch against her knee and she shifts. All of this is becoming way too real way too soon.

"It's gonna come out looking like a real person, right?", she mumbles, frowning.

"You're kidding."

"Sorry, but it looks like something you'd see under a microscope."

You grab the first thing you find — your cardigan, bunched into a ball — and toss it at her. She catches it and spreads it out over your legs.

"Nice one", she says drily. "Come on, you can't tell me that looks like a baby."

You roll your eyes and glance at the picture again, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. She's right. It doesn't even resemble something supposedly alive, let alone a human being. But it is a human being, according to the doctor, and that's all you need to know.

"Maybe it's taking its time getting cute."

"That'll take a while."

"I hate you."

. . .

Nobody knows. Not yet. But hiding it is getting harder with every day.

Basketballs bounce, shoes squeak, the air smells of sweat and gym air. You watch the ball be thrown in your direction and you catch it, then toss it aside.

It was a flirty text that led you here. You were in bed, drunk on sunlight and half-asleep, when your phone buzzed. The picture you got was one you couldn't complain about — Natasha, in front of a mirror, only wearing boxers (just slightly tugged down to reveal an additional sliver of skin) and a bra. A picture taken in the locker room of the gym, right before practice. It was enough to get you semi-conscious and shoo you out of bed.

Practice is over now, so you walk onto the court. Natasha wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, her hand sneakily moving to your stomach — still pretty flat, but your shirt hides the tiniest of bumps.

"You did good", you say, smiling, and cup her face. The heat is making the ends of her hair curl, and strands of baby hair stick to her sweaty temples. You scrunch your nose, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Really good. But that last shot was...meh."

"Criticizing me?" She scoffs and presses her lips to yours. Around you, her teammates talk and grab their stuff before heading to the showers. "A little more support would be appreciated, you know."

"This is me supporting you", you point out, walking her out of the gym. "What else do you want me to do, huh? Cheer? Fetch some water?"

"I wouldn't say no to seeing you in a cheerleading uniform."

You scoff, your hands wrapping around her lower arm as you lead her across campus. Only a handful of students passes you — it's summer, and most people are either visiting their families or vacationing. Not you and Natasha, though. You're spending your free time looking for an apartment.

"You'll have to wait around 6 more months for that." You pause, quickly re-calculating. "I think. My brain isn't working the way it's supposed to."

"Nothing new", she mumbles, shooting you a smirk when you jab your elbow into her side. "Kidding, kidding."

She squeezes your waist and leads you to the campus parking lot. She's still in her jersey, all sweaty from practice, but you have an appointment for an apartment viewing soon. Actually, you've got a whole list of apartments you want to look at. Natasha is taking apartment-hunting very seriously.

Too seriously, you're starting to think. Suddenly, not only the size of the apartment and the neighborhood where it's located are important, but also a bunch of things that are, in your humble opinion, simply not relevant.

"This next one has a basketball court nearby", she says, adjusting your seatbelt for you. "Good for early practice, you know. For the kid."

You raise your eyebrows. "For our fetus?"

"Hey, never too early."

You keep your thoughts on that matter to yourself.

At the apartment, the landlord shows you around. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems to be going fine. Despite still being in a sweaty jersey, Natasha manages to make a good impression. Then, he dares ask about your current family situation. That's when the usually so composed woman starts stuttering.

"Well, engaged. I guess. I mean, not yet, but in a way. Uh...fuck. Y/N?"

You glance at her, frowning. "Engaged? Where's the ring, then?"

Natasha looks at you. The panic in her eyes almost makes you laugh.

"Are you engaged or are you not?", the landlord asks. "It's fine if you aren't. Not that important, really."

"We're not", you say. "One day, though. Or so I hope."

"Yeah, yeah", Natasha says, still stressing. "One day."

A few more apartments you look at are enough to wear you out. You collapse onto the bed in your dorm, face buried in your pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. Natasha sits next to you and squeezes your butt, smiling.

"Hey", you mutter, voice muffled.

"Hey yourself", she teases. Her hand travels lower, tickling the inner part of your thighs. You squirm and she laughs quietly. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Can't blame you for that, baby." She leans in, pressing a kiss to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts. "Want me to order dinner?"

You glance at her, eyes lighting up with hope. "Pizza?"

"We said no junk food."

"You said no junk food."

"Think about the baby", she says, tugging at your shorts. "Mhm, you could take these off."

You snort and kick at her blindly. You manage to hit her in the ribs. She lets out a grunt and pinches your butt cheek. You roll over, one cheek reddened from the pillow, and give her a challenging look. "Ouch! Come on, I'm growing your kid. Least you can do is get me a pizza."

Her fingers trail up your spine. Before you know it, she's lying behind you with her front against your back. Pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space separates you.

She kisses the back of your neck. Her hand rests on your stomach, rubbing gently. "You're right", she mumbles. "You've trapped me. Pizza it is."

The words trapped me make your cheeks go warm. You snuggle into her and ignore the guilt and satisfaction warring inside you. This is something she'll find out about one day. Maybe. But right now, you're too happy in your little bubble to make it pop.

"I want garlic bread, too."

"So demanding." She hums and dips her hand into the front of your shorts. Her bulge presses against your butt. "How hungry are you, exactly?"

You whine softly. With the pregnancy making your body overly sensitive, every little touch sends sparks of want through you. Heat pools in your lower belly and you shift, grinding against her. She hums, her fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. White lace is revealed, and she moans.

"Really hungry, actually", you mumble, squirming. "But I'm willing to wait."

"Thank god", she says, peppering your shoulder with kisses. "I was considering jerking off in the bathroom otherwise."

"Gross."

"Love you too."

Natasha somehow manages to place the order. It's difficult, though, especially when you roll over. One leg hooked over her waist, she whines and rocks her hips against yours pathetically. You laugh and then moan, feeling her hard-on nudge all the right spots.

You bury your face in her neck and place kisses until her entire neck is covered in lipstick. Finally, she tosses her phone aside. You both ignore the sound of your roommate's lamp crashing to the ground and instead focus on each other.

. . .

Natasha was never one to get easily distracted by an audience.

Now that there's a tiny viewer in the stands, though, that has changed.

Niko is barely old enough to stay awake for longer than two hours, but that doesn't mean he can't go to his mom's basketball games and watch. One hand wrapped around your finger and earmuffs that look way too big on him, he's undeniably the star of the stands.

You thought he'd be a tiny you. As it turned out, Natasha's genes are a little too stubborn for that. His eyes are still baby-blue, but the redness of his hair is unmistakable. Paired with the matching jersey he's sporting, you feel like you're carrying a much smaller version of her around.

You ignore the looks and the delighted whispers. As always, your focus is on Natasha. That's something that, even now that you have a baby, never changed. It's her game. She's the important one here.

You watch her dribble the ball as she scans the court. Focus unwavering, she dodges a defender and leaves them stunned. With one leap, she soars into the air and lets the ball swish through the net.

Not too long ago, you would've jumped up and cheered. But you don't want to jostle the baby too much, so you settle for clapping awkwardly while holding Niko in one arm.

Natasha turns, eyes glistening, and spots you in the crowd. You take Niko's hand and make him wave at her. Her smile only widens.

Minutes later, the buzzer sounds. Another victory.

Natasha comes rushing to the stands before anyone can even attempt to congratulate her. She helps you over the barricade, then takes off her jersey to hand it to you. The piece of fabric is swapped for the baby, who clings to her like a little koala.

"Did you see that?", she asks, breathless, and pats Niko's back when he starts fussing. "What a shot!"

You nod, laughing, and kiss her cheek. Sweaty as always. And, also as always, you don't find it in you to care.

"I did", you say, putting on her jersey. "Much better than in that first halftime, babe."

"Yeah?" She looks at the baby. He's still fussy, one hand grasping at her shoulder. "What about you, bud? You like it?"

"Didn't even cry once", you say, brushing your fingers over his tuft of hair. "Which is a miracle."

"It definitely is."

You linger by the barricade, talking and smiling, exchanging quick kisses. Natasha's teammates approach you to ask whether you want to go out and celebrate, but you decline. They leave, buzzing with joy, only for a few girls to introduce themselves to Natasha.

This time, all they get is a brief smile. She kisses Niko's cheek and leads you away from the court, away from the crowds, away from the noise.

"Not gonna stay and talk a bit more?", you tease. It's surprising, how much has changed. Her habit to flirt excessively seems to be gone. It's something you're thankful for — having to fight her about that was tiring.

Natasha shakes her head. You walk through a hallway, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and turn a corner. The locker room is empty when you enter it.

"Nah", she says, sitting down on a bench. She gently takes the earmuffs off Niko's head and watches him yawn. "I'd rather get home. He looks tired."

"He is, yeah."

"You're tired, too", she points out. You tilt your head and smile faintly.

"And here I thought I applied enough makeup."

"Don't worry, you're gorgeous. But you also look tired."

No point in denying that. Niko is merely four months old, and he's far from sleeping through the night. In addition, Natasha is unable to get up most nights, since practice and the games are demanding. She tries her best to juggle college, basketball, and an infant.

"Fine", you admit. "He kept me up all night. But I'm okay, I swear."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'd look more put together, but you try applying lipstick while holding a squirming baby."

Natasha laughs and reaches up to take your hand. You're on her lap before you know it, nestled against Niko. She kisses your shoulder.

"You look put together", she assures you. "Tired, but put together."

You smile and lean into her. Her arm is strong around your waist, biceps swollen and veins popping, and you turn your head to kiss her cheek.

"All for you", you mumble. Then, you tap Niko's nose. "This' all for you, too."

"Oh, I know." Natasha nuzzles her face against your shoulder. "Lucky me. Lucky you. We're all lucky."

Lucky you, indeed.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #beefy!nat #x reader #lesbian #wlw #fanfic #marvel #marvel mcu #wlw smut #smut #fluff #cw babytrapping #moon’s fics

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unriding · 2 months ago

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sweetest cy … it is 12 when this posts !! so of course, i get to post this heh!! thank you for such a sweet gift … i have left a little ( <- little? hm ) message for you below !! i am so so very sorry for the length ><

rb 1 / 2 :

cy … i have just finished reading it and my heart is beating a thousand times a minute !! are you serious — ARE YOU SERIOUS /pos because how will i type coherent tags when such a kind gift has already brought me to tears ( countless times !! the amount of breaks i needed to wipe my tears so i could read the rest of it sisnjdjxj ) THOUGH … at the same time ,, i was so red reading this !!! >//////< exactly like this !!! AGHH i really don’t even know where to start !! 🥺 perhaps i will type out a message to *you* first cy !!

thank you ???!! <- what a severe understatement, but i don’t know what other phrase i could even use to express my gratitude T T i know you have been so very busy lately ): i know you’ve been swamped to the point of not resting enough … so i just want to give you a huge hug and pause time to let you rest !!! but the fact that you did such a thing for :’) me :’) when you’re already so busy just makes my heart so ?! IM SO TOUCHED ??? you did not need to !! ): and you did !! I LOVE YOU !!! though aside from this, i’ve seen you making your way to inboxes and giving sweet to tags to fics and everything — you are so kind cy ): !!

i love you. you have so much love in your heart and i know everyone’s face just lights up when they see you on the dash — and i am the same way ^^ also .. we must talk about your writing since i have a small inkling i will use the 30 tags to scream /pos sjsndjkdkdk i have mentioned this before, but i adore your writing style !! it flows so nicely and reads sooooo smoothly i just ?! can see myself reading any amount of words from you in one sitting because of how nicely you write !! also .. you said moze might be ooc but i thought he was so in character 🥺 oh i adore your writing …..

𝕄𝕠𝕫𝕖 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

heaven is a place on earth with you

Synopsis: Moze goes shopping to purchase something for a certain someone. What on earth could that be? And who is he giving it to? Read to find out!

Word Count: 2.6k | Reading Time: 15 minutes

Note: Reader is referred with she/her pronouns and mentioned to be wearing a dress. I do not claim to know this character a 100%. I am writing him based off the voice lines and a some of the lore that I know about him.

A bead of sweat begins to form on the elderly shopkeeper's temple. His gaze weary towards the grey-haired man before him. After all, Moze has yet to say anything in the past half-hour while intensely gazing down on the merchandise the shopkeeper has presented him. A hand on his hip while the other brushes lightly against his lips. His brows furrowed and lips pursed tightly.

What kind of merchandise could possibly cause such distress towards both Moze and the elderly? Well, the answer is actually quite simple: jewelry.

Oh, but not just any jewelry.

On the far right, there is a pair of earrings. Elegantly furled out petals that have a striking resemblance to wings with pearls of varying sizes at the very base, silver chains dangle with matching pearls. Next to that is a gold chain bracelet with a moon at the very center as the pendant accompanied by a pair of stars on either side. A constellation of tiny jewels from around the moon; it resembles that of the Capricorn. And lastly— a necklace. Silver chains with pearls in the softest shade of pink and white alternating to make a lovely pattern. Adjacent chains in between to showcase a gem shaped like a teardrop to complement the beads. And at the very center of it rests a dangling chain adorned with similar pearls and a small ribbon.

A part of him considered just buying all three of them. However, that may not get a positive feedback from the receiver. In all the while of knowing that person, he'd come to have a feeling that they'd feel flustered and guilty over such a purchase— even though it barely put a dent on his wallet. He'd rather not have them worry instead of enjoying the gift over his indecision. Though doubt did begin to eat away at his nerves the more that he stared at the jewelries before him. Questions begin plaguing his mind one after the other making his brows meet in frustration.

Would they even like any of these? Maybe they were too straightforward based on what he knew about them? Would they already have a plethora of similar items and prefer something new? What if they had recently changed their preferences with him unaware?

Moze lets out a disgruntled groan. The shopkeeper winces, worrying if he's somehow done something to displease the intimidating man before him (even though he's only stood there and kept to himself since presenting the items). Both of them were now comically distressed over the situation.

A moment later, Moze's phone vibrates.

Finally— his gaze averts from the assortment to fish out his phone. A message from Jiaoqiu. Target is on her way to the shopping district. He almost rolls his eyes at the term used. Although jokingly meant, still seemed quite crude considering his usual profession. Moze simply sends a single worded response before tucking the gadget back into his pocket.

With a final glance at the items, he takes a deep breath and finally chooses one. He hands it to the shopkeeper along with the strales to pay for it. The elderly man takes a relieved sigh, his shoulders sagging from the release of tension before turning to his side to neatly place it inside a box and tying a bow to keep it secure.

The moment that Moze receives it, he blends back into the shadows.

Hours later, the sun begins to set. Golden hues cast over the city to create a picturesque scene. Most of the people begin their march home to bid the day farewell. The streets are kept lit by the lamps and establishments either still open or only starting to. Moze lingers in the corner of the street as he watched the people pass him by. His mind wanders far off as he rehearses a few lines in his head over and over again. Making small changes and adding a few words every now and then. All this as he patiently awaits for a certain message—

Ding! Ding! Ding!

There it is.

He doesn't even bother checking his phone, he already knows what the content of it would be. It doesn't take long for him to make his way down the street towards a nearby restaurant. From the outside, it would seem closed. Doors shut tight while the lights of the halls are turned off, leaving it to a mystery what lies inside.

While approaching, he hears your voice.

Moze stops for a moment to spot you with Guinaifen and Sushang. There's a blindfold over your eyes while the two lead you towards the restaurant. A hand reached out to nothing as if grasping for air while Sushang held the other. Guinafen warns you about a rock you need to step over, which you oblige in making a dramatic step— despite there actually being nothing. Sushang lets out a laugh before playful chastising the street performer for her mischief. Though both of them apologize at the pout forming on your expression.

The sight has the edges of Moze's lips curling upwards. He turns his head away to enter the back of the restaurant. By the time he enters the main hall, he can hear the soft murmurs and gossip amongst the people inside. A few feet scuffle around as everyone gets in place to be ready. Hushes amongst each other echo when muffled voices can be overheard outside the restaurant. The entire hall turns silent as the doors creak open.

Light from the street lamps illuminates three frames. Sushang lets go of your arm to shut the doors closed while Guinafen makes quick work of the blindfold over your eyes. The two of them step away from you to join in with the others in the dark, leaving you to let your eyes adjust to the lack of lighting.

Both of your hands reach out before you as you call out to the two girls. You take a step— and the lights turn on, the tip of your foot getting caught in the carpet, causing you to stumble forward. A small squeal slips past your lips as you feel your body falling. Moze catches on, his body moving before he could think. It only takes a fraction of a second before he catches you.

"Happy Birthday!"

Voices synchronized in greeting. Party poppers echo throughout the room. Colorful paper confetti sway in the air. Pastel colored ornaments decorate the walls of the restaurant matched with balloons and ribbons. Dearest friends stand around with party hats over their heads.

Though details of that can come later, no? What draws your attention the most is the man right in front of you. His familiar scent fills your senses. Your face buried against his chest. Gloved hands on your shoulders to help balance you, he makes sure to avoid scratching you with the sharp steel in one hand. The steady beat of his heart is pressed against your ear.

Oh, how lovely you looked in Moze's eyes.

You tilt your head enough to meet his gaze, and it's enough for that steady heartbeat of his to falter. He swallows, fingers twitching as if to refrain himself from tucking that stray lock of hair behind your ear. In that moment, it vaguely occurs to him to give you a greeting, but all he manages to do is part his lips—

"Okay, lovebirds!" Jiaoqiu announces with a clap of his hand, "You can have your moment with her later, Moze. Settle with sharing her with us for now."

Moze furrows his brows and casts his glance at the fox for those words while you pull away with cheeks stained a pinkish hue. The others chime in to steal you away for the festivities even if for a moment. Loved ones taking turns to greet you for the special occasion as the night goes on for the celebration.

Throughout the trickling hours of the party, Moze keeps an eye on you. Catching glimpses of you speaking with the others. Opening the variety of gifts they've prepared for you. Cheering on Guinafen along with the others who perform on a makeshift stage. All of them enjoying the food and drinks laid out on the table.

In the midst of the raucous event, he catches your silhouette slipping through the crowds to make way for the stairs. Nobody seems to have noticed it just yet. The weight of the box tucked safely in his pocket urges him to follow after you. He keeps in mind to do it discreetly in hopes to have a moment with you. The fluttering of your dress just before you make turns along the building is all that he sees as he catches up without you noticing. Eventually, your path leads you to the balcony of the building.

The sight before him has him stopping in his tracks.

How kind of the moon to grace you with such elegant hues of her light. Your frame basks in the soft glow of it. Silken strands of hair shine akin to the finest silk as the evening breeze plays with wisps of your hair. There's a warm smile on your lips that's a sharp contrast to the coldness of the night. Perhaps all that was left would be a halo hanging over your head and wings to sprout behind your back for him to believe you'd secretly been a halovian this entire time. You kept your gaze on the celestial bodies painting the sky; all he could see was you.

A cold breeze rushes past, a shiver runs through your body from it. Your arms fold across your chest while the palm of your hands rub warmth into your own frame. A chuckle slips past your lips, accompanied by the fall of your expression as you mutter how you should have brought a jacket with you.

"Here," Moze snaps out of his daze to shrug off his hoodie and placing it over your shoulders. "It'll help with the cold."

You tense up at the brush of his fingers against your shoulders, your eyes wide at his sudden appearance. It takes a moment before you relax and hold the hoodie closer to you. The smile you wear seems to be wider than it was earlier as warmth begins to spread through your cheeks as well.

"Thank you." Your voice a gentle dulcet he'd never tire of. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"It's not expected for the celebrant to be away from the party either." Moze responds, taking his position beside you.

Your eyes flicker to the evening sky, and how beautiful it looked with all the dazzling stars and the moon full. What a lovely scene, no? And yet Moze kept his gaze steady on you. Taking in the sight of how the sky seemed to reflect in your eyes. Though he didn't want to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he looks to the sky as well. Only ever sneaking glimpses of you in your direction whenever he thinks you won't notice.

Small talk is exchanged between the two of you. Trivial events that have occurred throughout the day until now. Musing over the party that still rages on below despite the late hour. All the foods and gifts you've received are placed safely far from the crowd. Soft chuckles and easy glances are exchanged every so often. The noise of the festivities downstairs lulls into a soft hum in the background. With only the two of you in the balcony, it almost seemed like that moment was truly yours and his alone.

Moze takes in a deep breath— it falters by a fraction when you let out a hum to face him. Your eyes meet his, and somehow that's all he can think of. All the words he'd practiced the entire afternoon slipped past him like a shadow shying away from the sun. The seconds that pass by almost seem like a lifetime before he clears his throat to pull out something from his pocket.

"A gift." His tone would almost sound dull if it weren't for the hesitation in his voice.

In the palm of his hand rests a white box with a pink ribbon at the very top. He nudges it closer to you as if reassuring that it's yours to take. And you do. Your fingers brush against his as you hold the box in your hands, keeping it secure as though you're afraid the wind would steal it away from you. Moze drinks in every expression and detail that dances on your expression.

You glance back and forth between him and the gift as you tug on the end of the ribbon. Its silken material loosens and is undone swiftly, leaving only the box. Finally, you take off the lid of the box to reveal its content.

Inside rests a necklace. It was the choice Moze had made among the three earlier. The moonlight shines down on the item, casting an iridescent glow to it. Your eyes shine the same way the gems reflect the moon's glow. You lift your gaze to Moze, as if silently asking for reassurance it truly was yours and not some mistake he'd made. He nods.

It's yours.

"May I?" Moze gestures a hand over the item, gently picking it up before stepping behind you. He unclasps the hook of it and waits for you to sweep your hair aside. Once done, he places the accessory around your neck, the tips of his fingers brush against your skin. An accidental caress yet feels far too delicate and gentle to be a phantom's touch. He secures the necklace in place, tugging on it once before retracting his fingers.

He takes a step back and you tidy yourself a bit, letting your fingers feel the weight that rests on your neck. It wasn't heavy at all. Simply that the fact that the man beside you had been the one to give you such a thing was enough to remind you of its value. The pinkish hue on your cheeks resembles the dainty pearls around your neck.

How the way your face lights up makes him forget that it was still evening— Moze is unsure. All he knows is the gratitude he felt towards himself for choosing that gift for you. That you've come to appreciate such a small thing that the smile on your face was bright enough to sear itself into the back of his eyelids. So that even as he closes his eyes, he'll see this moment vividly with his eyes wide open.

Moze's feet move him closer to you before he could think better of it. His hand rests on top of yours, just right above where your racing heart resides. The back of his fingers brush against your cheek with such tenderness it could be reverent. His forehead rests against yours until your noses touch, and the warmth of his breath tickles your skin.

Close. Possibly far too close. Part of him warns to pull away lest he makes you uncomfortable. Just one more second. He almost voices out loud. Give him this one instance to be selfish. To let the growing greed in his heart that yearns for your proximity be sated just this once. Reprimand him afterwards— just don't despise him for it. His throat constricts, the words stuck in his throat. The way you look at him both serves as damnation and salvation to the man. How ironic is that? Enough to make a smile tug on his lips when he meets your gaze that is.

"Happy Birthday.”

VIP Taglist: @unriding

To the sweetest and kindest person on this hellsite! Happy Birthday, Evie! I hope you enjoyed this fic. Moze might be a little OOC but I tried my best. May you have an absolutely wonderful day ahead of you <3

I was actually stuck between putting this in your inbox or making a pdf file and sending it on disc. This was so fun to write that it shocked me seeing that it was over 2k words! I didn't think it'd be appropriate to send you that via inbox. But I don't really know how to edit on pdf to design it? Hence, I made a post abt it instead. Hope you don't mind? I'll still send you the file but it'll just be plain. Sorry!

#彡 queue!#彡 evie’s 21st!#彡 cherishing.#彡 cy!#cy … oh my most precious cy you should have seen the way i almost spat out my drink this morning when i clicked on this /pos !!! i am so ?!#you didn’t ?! you did not !!! when you’re so busy ??? cy !?!?! and your rest ?? i will explode into pieces because i am so emotional starin #at this ack !!! and i have not given you a proper response to your previous gifts … please forgive me cy !! T T i have drafts and drafts #piled up of my responses to you — yet none of them are right ): none of them really express my gratitude to you and oh — if only you could #take a peek into my brain for just one moment !! you would understand how much i adore you and how there is a big room in my heart to store #cy + cy gifts … thank you )): alas i will use the rest of these tags for live tag this fic !! and then write everything else under this fic #if you don’t mind !!! i am sorry in advance for the length of these tags … i know it will end up so long oh dear .. IM SORRY AND THANK YOU!#i am only the first paragraph in and have started both 1) blushing and 2) laughing to myself because this is too cute !!! him so lost in #thought … and i have an inkling that he is looking quite scary to the passerby lol! also he is thinking so hard 🥺 it is just the cutest #thing ever !! what is clouding your mind most precious birdy :> CY THE MENTION OF CAPRICORN !!! MADE ME GO ?! :O !!! THESE DETAILS )): I #love you !! also all three options sound gorgeous !! T T cy — they all sound like things i would love ): thank you for all this thought ):#i have already begun to tear up /pos because this is so kind of you!! T T and now i am laughing once again at his little predicament bahaha #and the shopkeeper being scared — i had a feeling !!! oh this is making me grin ear to ear ( and sniffle quite a bit /pos ) TARGET???? this #made me laugh again siendjx target !!!! oh i long to be moze’s target— anyways!! THIS IS SO CUTE ACK i love your writing so much!!!! T T #the relieved sigh bahahhahaa he is friendly not to worry mr shopkeeper ^^ oh this is a beautiful day you are describing cy !!! sunsets do #remind me a lot of you actually :] the warmth !!! hehe — also . him rehearsing lines ??? the fact that he would plan out something like #words is so important to me ): that is so sweet !! when i was younger — i used to be very quiet and i used to rehearse words too heh! ^^ it #takes quite a bit of time to remember them by heart … so this means a lot to me :’) sorry for the random lore dump sjsndjx anyways !!! you #write him in such a cute way !!! ))): OMGGG and the fact that you added sushang & guinaifen !!! i love those two !! T T omg cy ): your #attention to detail is so amazing !! also — THEM TEASING ME!!! how dare they do such a thing /lh bahahahha omg the grasping out for air — i #already do that when the lights are off and i need to find my room !!! 😭 ALSO MOZE WITNESSING MY DRAMATIC STEP OVER NOTHING I AM SO RED IN #THE FACE /pos and him smiling ?!?!?! my heart is beating 1000 beats a minute ?!?!?! as soon as you said there were other people — my eyes #teared up so fast /pos 🥺 OMG AND THIS SCENE IS WHERE I STARTED SOBBING full on -> 😭😭 i had to take a break at this point !!! /pos THE TRIP #AAAAJSSJ DID HE CATCH ME ? OMG THE HAPPY BDAY I CAN SEE IM CRYING /pos OMG ))): CY ))): YOU ARE TOO KIND ))): FACE ? BURIED ? IN ? HIS ? CH #CHEST ????? HIS HEARTBEAT AGAINST MY EAR …. MY HEART IS BEATING SO FAST SISNDJDJ CY !!!!!?????? THE TUCKING HAIR BEHIND MY EAR I WILL EXPLO #JIAOQIU IS SO FUNNY EHENDJXJXJ oh my gosh !!! my heart !!!! /pos 😭😭😭😭 oh cy you would not believe the smile i have on my face right now iej

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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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I actually kinda like the accidental pregnancy trope idk just two characters learning to coparent and then eventually falling in love is kinda cute 🥹 I’d love to see what you write for gojo I feel like he’d be scared but end being such an amazing dad

gojo x reader | accidental pregnancy trope [drabble]

little miracle. a gojo x reader story

a/n. ok anon i basically started answering this ask very minimally but i couldn't stop myself from writing and it basically became an entire story so enjoy i guess?? LOL my bad <3 warnings/tags. domestic fluff, angst, mentions of sick parent, mentions of death, pregnancy symptoms. there is happy ending!! word count. 2.2k

gojo and you are in your mid twenties but you're both just barely getting by, you're a new writer living in a tiny apartment in a big city and gojo is the cute waiter at your favorite diner who's just saving up some money because he wants to go back to school and you're both kindaaa crushing on each other, flirting w one another. the restaurant gojo works at ends up starting meal delivery option, and you order some pizza to your apartment just so that you can see him on a weekday and he's soooo super cheeky with it leaning in the doorframe entryway of your apartment with the pizza in his hand like "it says here someone ordered a hot guy in some super sexy black jeans, well he's here now" and you're like "you're such a fuckin idiot" and you abandon said pizza to fuck him on your facebook marketplace couch.

fast forward the next day n you wake up, but he's not there anymore. he left you a little note that says he's going away for a month since his mom is sick and he needs to be w her. you're confused by the note, and you wish he left his phone number because you realize you have no way of contacting him. but that's ok, he'll be back soon, right?

in the couple weeks following the night you both hooked up, you're feeling like shit in the mornings, nauseous, you realize you've missed your period but you shrug it off because it was never really normal anyways. but one morning you throw up, confused as hell, wondering if you got food poisoning. but as you swing your legs back and forth in your paper gown, sitting high up on your primary care doctor's examination room bed, they tell you that you're pregnant and you act like you've never even heard the word before.

there's no doubt gojo is the father, you haven't slept w anyone except him in months. and a baby was just...you can barely afford to pay your bills, you're already living paycheck to paycheck since your book isn't even out yet and you're just surviving w the advance from your old job. what the hell were you going to do? and you can't even tell him that you're pregnant, because he's god knows where, stranding you with no phone number to contact him and you feel so left behind and alone.

the first person he comes to see when he gets back into the city is you. he looks tired, probably from his travels, or possibly from what he saw back home w his mom laying sick in bed. but he's still so happy to see you, and he kisses you and tells you he missed you and you stop him to tell him that you need to talk. for him, there was life before you told him you were pregnant, and then there was life after. and now he was living in the after. standing still in the tiny living room of your apartment when you tell him he's the father, and the words that leave your mouth afterwards are drowned out in his head because he can only focus on that one thought at once.

father. he's going to be a father? whatever heaviness he finds in his chest from the word is replaced with adoration when he looks at you.

keeping it, was what you had told him next.

it was tough at first, because of the morning sickness and the hormones and the yelling at him for not bringing you the kfc you craved so badly a minute before he did, and then the crying that follows suit when you realize you're being mean to him. but he does everything you want, everything he knows how, because he doesn't know how to be a dad, and he figures the least he can do right now is know what to do for you. and the thought scares him, to death every day. as he's driving you to your doctor's appointments, he's praying under his breath that you and baby are ok and healthy. while he's waiting tables at work, he puts on his best smile for an extra tip because it's extra money for the baby, because she isn't even here yet and he already wants to give her everything she's ever wanted.

yes, she. a baby girl. you were having a baby girl. you cried when your ob/gyn slipped and told you the gender, because you asked for it to be kept secret, but what hurt even more was that you told gojo he didn't need to come to this appointment. just a routine little check up, not a big deal. i'll just have my friend drop me off, you said. little did you know it was the one where you would find out you two were having a little girl.

oh, gojo knows nothing about girls. would it be different from raising a boy? can he play wrestle w her when she's a little older, or would he have to be gentle with her? would he learn how to make flower crowns for her with daisies from the field just to see a smile on her tiny face? how will he ever be able to deny her anything, especially if she looks just like you?

the second trimester, you two felt like a young married couple, and for once it felt like things were bright. like you two knew what you were doing. like it wasn't a mistake, but a blessing. you wanted him, desired him, and he'd never desired anything more than he desired you. it took you a while to come around to having sex again, it felt wrong, because that was what got you two into this mess in the first place. but those feelings melted away when you two moved into his little ranch together on the outskirts of town and you knew what it felt like to be hugged by him in the mornings, his sleepy voice drawling in your ear about how much more beautiful you look with every passing day. in those moments, all the regret melts away.

it all comes crashing down in third trimester. you're angry, he's tired, you're sad, he swears he's trying his best but he just can't seem to understand what you need from him. you say you wished this never happened, he says he didn't ask for any of this, and you're sobbing on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands because it all just feels like some cruel twisted joke. like a dream you should be waking up from any second from now. he sits down on the cold tile beside you, solemn in the face. he already looks so much older than the bright eyed boy he used to be, twirling a pizza box around on his finger in the doorframe of your apartment. his cheeks have sunk in, and you realize we all die someday. his hand reaches out to hold yours, and he kisses the back of it, and he says he'll never leave. not like how he left all those months ago, with nothing but a note. no matter what it comes to, one thing he can always promise you, is that he'll never leave like that ever again.

when your baby girl was born, nothing else mattered. it's like all the turmoil you faced in the past eight months was not even worth paying a moment's care towards when you cradle her in your arms. gojo had been fighting back tears the entire time, mostly provoked by how difficult childbirth had been for you as he watched feeling helpless, but the moment he held his little girl in his arms, he couldn't fight back the tears anymore. and he cried, and he cried, and he cried. few fathers could treasure their daughters as much as gojo did, and he knows it's a promise every parent makes to their child, but he vowed he'll never let anything hurt her. never let anyone upset her. for as long as he lives, he'll keep all the cruelty away from her, and keep her safe forever. you both named her yuki, for snow drifting outside of the hospital window when she opens her eyes for the first time.

you two make the tough decision that it's best for gojo to go back to school like he originally planned while you take care of the baby at home. it's hard having him away, and it's torture for him too, since he seems to breathe and live just to make yuki giggle and smile. but it's what made fiscal sense, since you knew what it was like to grow up in a household with little money to feed or fend, and the two of you wanted more than that for your daughter.

gojo's mother succumbed to the very illness that had been haunting her since he visited her for a month over a year ago, and he cried to sleep when he realized she only got to hold her granddaughter once before she passed away. and for the first time in his life, gojo learned what it really meant to be a parent, and it was only found in losing his own. there was no time to grieve in the capacity that he wanted to, because he needed to be there for you and his little girl. a year ago, he would've been broken, beaten, and bruised, but now he bleeds only in his dreams, then buries and braves the seasons for the sake of you two. as he slips his shoes off at the front door after a long day, then walks into the dark of the house, turning the corner into your shared room, he sees you humming peacefully while rocking his daughter to sleep. and he realizes his entire world is sitting in that chair.

gojo graduates from his two year engineering program, and lands a job in the city. the same city you left to go live with him when you were pregnant. it was tough to come back to the same city you fled, because all you remember of it now is morning sickness and fear of your career and falling in love with a boy that had a boyish charming smile you knew would ruin you one day. and now he's taken you back, moving the little family you've made together into a house. a house! he bought you a house. it was a little one, with no more than two bedrooms, but there was enough room in your hearts to raise your daughter with love, and that was all she'd ever need. she can walk now, mumble words. she said dada first, and gojo never stops teasing you about it. and when she finally says mama, you felt like your whole heart would burst.

he proposes to you on the waterline of the city's park, at the top of golden hour while the wind is subtle and tame but still ruffles the fabric of your dress. waiter boy, on one knee in front of you, years of waiting tables but he cannot even bare to wait one more second to hear your answer to the most important question he'll ever ask anyone in his entire life.

and you say yes. and he promises he'll love you for the rest of his life.

the wedding is small, because you two decided not to invite all of the family that had become estranged ever since you told them that you were pregnant with a man's child who you weren't even so much as dating. his family became yours after that, with his aunts and uncles congratulating you and yuki's cousins playing with her before she was to skip down the aisle as flower girl. it was sad to see your side of the church so empty, but you could never truly feel empty in this world anymore. not with what all that you've gained in the process.

there is fear in love, and in life. there was fear in gojo's heart when he learned he was going to be a father when he barely even knew right from wrong. there was fear in learning you were going to be a mother when you knew you cannot protect your child from the same hurt that has haunted you for a lifetime. but there was joy too. joy in seeing your baby bump for the first time, joy in holding your daughter in your arms for the first time, joy in seeing a sparkling stone in a tiny box presented to you on a sunday by the boy who still made your heart skip a beat just by looking at him, and there was so much joy in marrying him too.

but you find the real joy comes in the moments that you expect nothing from at all, but they happily surprise you with the feeling nonetheless. like now, as you sit on a picnic blanket at the park and you watch your husband running across fluttering grass in the wind, chasing after your daughter whose giggles and shrieks fill the summer air. he catches her, throwing her up into the air before spinning her around in his arms, and you tuck your hair behind your ear as you watch it happen. you expected nothing from anything life had given you in the past four years, and yet it gave you all the joy in the world. where you could've expected sorrow and sadness, it gave you something beautiful instead. you never would've thought that the boy you locked eyes with through a shy flutter of your lashes underneath warm restaurant lighting, the one that winked at you with no shame despite you being surrounded by all of your friends, you never could've imagined he'd be who he is to you today. but for certain, now, you believe in it. you believe in little miracles.

[the end]

a/n. what the flying fuck. i'm gonna go cry now lmfao.

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