So I Had One Of My Guy Friends Send Me A Couple Songs For A Playlist I Was Making And One Was From Daredevil

So I had one of my guy friends send me a couple songs for a playlist I was making and one was from daredevil and I just started watching and finally got to the part where the song is and I think he's trying to tell me something😶😶😶

could you do a blurb that james and reader has a height diff and they're showering and he's washing her hair so easily and it's all nice and calming? a sucker for height diffsss hahahahh

Pleaser (0.7k)

summary: james' height serves an advantage to you when it comes to washing your hair

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: non sexual nudity

a/n: I love this so so so so much it was so fluffy and ahhhhhh I love it ty for requesting it lovely anon <3 also I've been obsessed with the nickname angel lately, so excuse my hyperfixation of it on here

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You let out a small sigh of relief as hot water hits your skin, trickling all over your body and providing you with a soothing effect. Your hand came to rub at your sides, massaging just enough to get the tension out of your body.

Not a few minutes later did the door to your bathroom click open, you didn't need to slide the shower curtain aside to know who it was. James let out a small chuckle when you peeked out the shower curtain to give him a cheeky smile.

"Hiya, angel. Thought I'd join in, missed you." James said as he began to shed his clothes. He threw his jumper on the ground, joined my his trousers and his black boxers.

You tried not to stare too long at your boyfriends beautiful body, flustering instantly when he approached closer to you. You had seen him naked before, but moments with him like these felt more intimate than sex itself. It felt more domestic, just him casually hopping in the shower with you showed how comfortable both of you were with each other.

You made room in the shower, letting James walk in front of you and settle underneath the shower head that was still spouting hot water. "You okay?" He asks, paying attention to your tense expression, smiling at the small smile that you managed.

"Better now that you're here. Missed you too." You said, admiring how the water dropped down James' body and soaked his curls.

James leaned forward to press a small kiss on the top of your head, brushing your wet hair back and clearing them from your face. You sigh in content when he starts to knead the fats of your cheek in his hands. His fingers trace your features, occasionally leaning down to kiss your face. "Did something happen?" He asks gently while he starts to spurt some soap into his hands.

"Nothin', just really tired. My body aches and I want nothing more than to crash in bed, right now." You grumbled, but still managing the uncertain smile.

"How about we clean you up then we'll go sleep together, yeah?" He offers, already in the process of running soap up and down your arms. "Lift these arms for me, angel." He whispers, his actions as soothing as his voice.

You end up leaning against James' body for support, your face right below his neck and resting comfortably on his chest. "Mm, is this the new soap? I love how it smells."

James chuckles, "Bought it just for you."

You stay put in that position until James needs to soap up your legs. When he's finished, he rinses your body clean and takes a generous sniff of the lemony scent of the new soap.

"Alright, turn around and lean against me that way." He orders, dropping two gentle pecks on both sides of your shoulder. "Let me wash your hair and give you a short massage while I'm at it."

You stared up in awe, giving him the most grateful stare you were able to muster and he kissed your lips in return. "I love you, Jamie." You said, finally able to relax when he turns your body until your back is resting against his chest.

"I love you more, angel." He says quickly before his hands gather your hair and rub the soapy substance into your strands. James massages your head, his fingers are careful not to pull too hard when he rakes a hand through your hair. His height makes it easy to wash your hair, the angle not straining your head or making you uncomfortable. Instead, everything about him— especially his hands offer you nothing but comfort.

You probably waste more water than you were trying to conserve from the shower, but James takes care of you and releases your tension with ease. By the end of it, you already felt sleepy and ready to close your eyes. Not long after you dry up and change into clean clothes, James is out of the shower and quickly joining you with his own night routine.

After both of you are done, you switch off the bathroom lights and head to your shared bedroom. James settles with you under the covers, his hand wrapping around your back as you lay on top of him. It doesn't take long for you to drift off in his arms, physically comfortable and mentally at ease.

—@ wrathspoet

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under his skin

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

spoiler free | word count: 4k

summary: in which you and peter parker realize there really is a fine line between love and hate.

warnings: unedited, constant childish bickering and arguments, enemies to lovers, swearing, violence, assault attempt, mentions of blood, possessive!peter, slight ooc!peter, toxic a little?? maybe idk?

Peter Parker generally considered himself a friendly guy. In fact, he usually made it a point to be exceedingly nice towards others. It wasn’t in his nature to stand around and not defend the little guy. Nor was it in his nature not to treat others with kindness and respect. I mean, he literally held doors open for grandmas in his free time. It went hand in hand with being New York’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

But, for the life of him, Peter Parker could not explain his insatiable hatred for you.

Keep reading

its actually kinda crazy how much i like this guy AH he just makes me feel 🦋💐💖💃🎶💫🦋💖🌻🤪 ¡!! anyways so-

dealbreaker [Sirius Black x reader]

word count: 4k

summary: you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased. “Maybe something else.” “Let me read it, I’ll take notes.” The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

tags: marauders era, fluff, flirting lol, reader works at a bookstore, getting together, james is a good friend (and a bastard), fem reader

requested by anon here

There was a ridiculously handsome guy in the bookstore.

You pulled your makeup bag out as casually as you were able, rifling through it for your mirror compact. The reflection that stared back at you looked decent, for once - the bookstore was always quiet during late February, school supplies and Christmas presents were already out of the way, and as a result you looked more rested than usual.

You used the pad of your fingertip to rub away the dark smudges of mascara under your eyes and smooth down your flyaways. Not a bad hair day.

You felt silly. It wasn’t as if someone as attractive as him was about to waste his time on a checkout girl at the bookstore. Still, when he finally made his way to the front desk, book in hand, you put on your friendliest smile.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, voice soft to match the dim light of the shop.

“Hi,” he said. God, even his voice was handsome, bright and smooth.

“Is this all I can help you with?”

This is where he gave pause. “Well-“ he placed the book down between you both so that you could see the title, “if I can ask, do you think this is the type of thing a guy my age would like?”

You studied the cover thoughtfully, looking between it and him with slow blinks.

He tilted his head.

“If you tell me what you usually like to read, I can be of more help.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” he smiled at you. “A friend.”

“Right,” you laughed awkwardly.

“He likes most everything,” he supplied.

You flipped the cover open to the first page, a list of reviews from other authors. You turned the book so that he could see it, trailing your finger under one of the review’s title.

“This one here. I read her novel, ‘Heaven’, not too long ago. It made me sad for a long time.”

“And that’s - bad?” He sounded genuinely interested in your answer.

You shook your head as though shaking water from inside your ear. “I think the way that it could even make me sad in the first place meant it was a good book. But I’m not sure, your friend might not think so.”

“And ‘Heaven’, you have that here?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry. Not until next week.”

“I’ll come back,” he said firmly. He’d pushed his hair out of his face, revealing his lovely, soft cheekbones.

“Alright,” you said. It came out wrong.

That should’ve been the end of the conversation, but he hesitated to move, and then said, “Is it busy here?”

You smiled, pleased. Not many customers spent time talking to you beyond a simple thank you.

“It can be. Especially in the month before school starts. The day before, even.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. I was always running around like a twat the day before term started.”

A startled laugh burst out of you and you covered your mouth with your hand. “Me too. I was never the organised sort.”

“You look plenty organised now.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, very much so.” He waved a hand at the tower of books you’d created earlier in the week that decorated the side of the counter. “A masterpiece such as this would never come about by someone who didn’t have sufficient organisational skills.”

You grinned, “Quite right. Complicated thing, stacking.”

“Yes, I’d think so.”

Your laughter petered out. He cleared his throat.

“Right then. I’ll be back next week,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” you said, kicking the toe of your shoe against the desk, wondering how to spend the next few hours.

-

Truth be told, you’d almost forgot about the handsome customer the next time you saw him. Life was busy and lonely and loud, there were clothes to be washed and dishes to be done and stock to be counted.

You thought of him when the new shipment of books arrived for March. Had he found a gift for his friend? You set aside a copy of  Heaven for him with a sticky note on top that said your name so a coworker knew who wanted it.

When he appeared the next time he was accompanied by a man with dark brown hair. You were in the storeroom, writing down figures, piling restocks onto your metal book cart.

Your coworker burst in. You raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a man here for you, asking about ‘Heaven’?” she said dubiously, raising her eyebrows at you.

“It’s a book,” you said.

“Sure, sweetie, sure it is.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging the cart behind you. You left it where it was when you saw him, making your way to the front counter. You pulled the copy of Heaven from your cubby. His friend had wandered off into the non-fiction section, leaving him standing by himself. He glanced at the counter and smiled when he saw you walking towards him.

“For you,” you said, offering him the book.

He turned it over in his hands. It wasn’t the most exciting looking book, and perhaps the story itself wasn’t exciting either. All you knew was that it was a damn good book.

“Do you think your friend will like it?”

He seemed surprised that you’d even remembered the book at all, smiling gratefully at your question. “I think he will.”

“Is it the one pretending not to be watching us right now?”

He looked over his shoulder with the essence of a regal man. The friend almost toppled over himself in his rush to move from sight. The handsome guy sighed through his nose. “No, not that dolt. Please ignore him.”

You laughed, a quiet thing.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked him, fully expecting him to say no.

“Actually,” he started, shoving his free hand deep in his pocket. “My friend over there is expecting. Do you have any books on pregnancy?”

You beamed. “Wow, congratulations for your friend. You can follow me down here and we’ll see what we find.”

You led him to the parenting section. It was a decent sized bookstore with a good selection of books, so finding something worthwhile was easy as pie. You searched the spines, running your hand across them until you found an old classic.

“‘Baby and Child’ by Penelope Leach,” you read to him. “Lots of mother’s come in for this one.”

You pulled it from the shelf.

“Any friend of the family’s for it?” he asked, eyes scanning the front.

“You’d be the first. It’s nice that you care so much.”

“Well, I’m his godfather. Or I will be, when he’s born,” he corrected himself in a hurry.

He was much too attractive to be stumbling over words talking to you. He was the kind of guy you’d expect to see in Teen Vogue, or in the transatlantic films they played in the local cinema. Not the kind of boy to waste time asking you about baby books and buying thoughtful gifts.

“Can I help you with anything else?” you asked, straightening your skirt out.

“Oh - no. No, that’s great. Thanks so much…?” his voice lifted up at the end.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he smiled to himself. “Thanks for your help.”

“You're welcome,” you nodded, ducking away. You returned to your cart to finish putting the new stock away, watching your coworker checking out the handsome guy and his friend from the corner of your eye. You realised later that you hadn’t asked him his name in return.

-

The sunlight leaking in through the window was warming your face. Tired to begin with, you felt yourself close your eyes without thinking about it, face dropping where you held it in your hand.

It was still rather early in the year to expect any warm weather where you lived, so you savoured the heat. The pages of the book you’d been reading, hidden behind the till, were drifting shut around the fingers of your other hand. You were too tired to correct them.

The bell at the door jingled. It had been so peaceful that you flinched, straightening up on your stool.

It was the handsome guy from before. He drifted without preamble to the front desk. You hurried to look presentable, the first thought that ran through your head being, oh jesus h christ, he would come today. A day where you looked puffy and exhausted.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You did your best to contain a pleased smile. “I would say hi too, but I didn’t ask you your name last time.”

He leaned the palm of his hand on the counter between you, having to lean down just slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s Sirius.”

“Sirius,” you tested, the name sweet on your tongue. “Like the constellation.”

“Exactly like that,” he said. He was dressed smart as always, shirt rolled up to the elbows and slacks. You wondered what he did for work to dress the way he did.

“You need help?” you asked, closing your book.

He was watching your mouth. “I need a cookbook.”

“For yourself?”

“I’m hosting a dinner party,” he said. “Though ‘dinner party’ sounds awfully formal.”

“What kinda food do you want to make?”

He seemed reluctant to admit it, but he told you about how he was actually learning to cook for himself for the first time, and wanted to seem mildly put together at his house warming party. “Flat-warming party,” he corrected.

“You never cooked for yourself before?” you asked. He looked like he could be 20 years old, at least.

“I went to boarding school.”

“You did? Wow, what was that like?”

He grinned infectiously. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

You rounded the counter to lead him to the cookbook section. It was one of the biggest collections of books that you had, and he seemed appropriately daunted.

“There’s a few.”

You laughed agreeably. “I bet you saw some pretty good ones at school.”

“If you liked pickled newt and hogroast.”

“Private school, huh?”

He laughed, loud and startled, like it was the funniest thing anyone and ever said. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Basically.”

“I don’t think we have anything like that…” you dug your fingertips into the soft skin at the base of your throat, thinking. “You like seafood? I use this one all the time,” you said, shuffling a few books to pull a familiar cookbook free.

“You have it at home?” he asked.

“I do. You think your dinner guests like prawn cocktail? That’s super fancy. Little cups of sauce, all that cool stuff. Oh my god, and crab! That would impress them, I bet.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Well, maybe. There’s pasta?” you suggested, waving your hand vaguely at the Italian stuff.

He shook his head, holding his hand out for the cookbook. “If I take this one, you’ll mark down your favourites?”

“Sure.”

-

One day your coworker was grinning so widely you felt as though she was about to tell you something scandalous. You looked at her apprehensively.

“What?”

“There was a dashing young man here yesterday. Tall, dark, handsome. Spent 20 minutes loitering by the front, and then left.”

You smiled despite yourself. “He did?”

Your coworker smirked, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“I told him you’d be in again tomorrow.”

You gasped. “You didn’t!”

“He had that book you liked; I thought you’d be happy to see him.”

You went to the bathroom, frenzied, to apply a fresh dab of concealer under each eye, a new coat of sticky, shiny lip gloss. Your hair looked lackluster. You ran your hands through it, wetting your fingertips to push down the flyaways.

You spent hours behind the counter, at first attentive and then less so. Eventually you realised he probably wasn’t coming and stopped sitting ram-rod straight, your shoulders aching from the effort.

You took your lunch break as usual, eating a simple, squished sandwich with one hand and turning the pages of a new book with another. A romance, smutty, the kind that needed its cover to be hidden away to consume without shame.

The girl was shy, lonely, attending a Christmas party at an acquaintance's house. The love interest was intelligent, smooth. They were flirting. The guy had just said something that brought heat to your cheeks when a familiar voice broke your concentration.

“I fear I’ve come at a bad time.”

You flinched, shutting the book with enough force to make the stool wobble underneath you. He put a hand out to catch you instinctively. You recovered, dropping your sandwich back in the tattered cling film you’d wrapped it in.

You swallowed without chewing, throat burning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the bell.”

“Yes, you seemed rather… entranced.”

The blush intensified. “How are you?” you asked, desperate to move the subject on.

He seemed pleased. “Brilliant. Yourself?”

“I’m good, yeah. Had a day off yesterday.” As soon as you said it, you felt stupid. He knew you’d had a day off.

“Get around to anything?”

“I did about as much as I do here, which, as you can see, isn’t a lot.”

He leaned down, resting an attractive forearm on the countertop. He looked you dead in the eye, which was enough for you to flush again. “You do plenty.”

“No, really. Getting up to find my lunch was about as much as I’ve moved today.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushed his hand into the big pocket on his jacket. He procured a slightly worn copy of Heaven. “I borrowed this from Remus - the friend, not from last time - and I wanted to talk to you about it, if you’ve a second?”

“Yes, oh my god. Did you like it?”

“It was sad, like you said.”

“It was.”

“And the ending-“

“Infuriating,” you supplied. He nodded, sending you a smile like you were both in on a secret.

“I kept waiting for him to go and see the painting she loved. I thought they’d go see it together, at least.”

“She left so suddenly, too.”

“Right? I thought maybe, before it finished, he’d go see it himself if he couldn’t go with her,” Sirius said.

You searched for the right words to explain your thoughts. “I think… I think because the painting was never really called heaven, that it was a name she chose for it, that when he sees the trees at the end and he’s crying - he’s seeing a version of heaven himself. Not like, God’s heaven. Her heaven.”

Sirius never once looked away from you, didn’t look bored or like he disagreed. He just listened.

“I still have to wonder what the painting looked like,” he said after you’d finished.

“What would your heaven look like?” you asked him. It was perhaps too personal.

“My friends. For you?” he asked.

You weren’t sure. You knew you should say your family, your friends, but something made you really think about it.

“Have you ever gotten up so early it was still dark outside, and you go outside and it’s so quiet, it feels as though nobody else in the world is awake? And you look at the sky - it’s blue with the yellow horizon, it’s purple, or it might even be those clouds tinged pink. I don’t-“ you paused, embarrassed at your babble, “I don’t think I could choose one to be, like, immortalized as heaven. But maybe then.”

He was smiling at you.

“I’m sorry, I must sound like a terrible person.”

“No, of course you don’t. The heaven she spoke about wasn’t necessarily what she loved most in the world. She went there when she was sad.”

You smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing. “Was it only sad?”

His face was handsome, poised, and although he doled out happiness generously you couldn’t work out how he was feeling . “It made me think about stuff I’d forgotten - how people do things to other people without thinking about it. For fun.”

He was so serious. You nodded, twisting your hand in the fabric of your skirt.

“It was a good book. But uh,” he pushed his hand up through his long hair. It fell down into place, looking amazingly soft. “Maybe you can recommend something happier, this time.”

You laughed. “Yes, I think so.”

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased.

“Maybe something else.”

“Let me read it, I’ll take notes.”

The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

-

It was busy in the shop one day the next week. You didn’t have a chance to sit down, carrying back and forth enough notebooks and new fantasy novels to fill a school library. Your legs shook by the end of the day. You basically had to crawl back to your countertop.

There, clear as day, was a bouquet of roses. They were small, barely blooming, the color of candy floss. They were wrapped in clear plastic and resting on their side. It wasn’t a grand display, but they were beautiful.

There was a note, written on a weird parchment that didn’t have any lines in ink. You gawked at it.

‘Busy day?’

You slipped the parchment between the pages of your current read to use as a bookmark, grinning. You took the roses home, where they lived on your dresser for a month without showing any signs of wilting.

-

Somebody was staring at you in the food shop. You could feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You turned around, a little worried, to find a cute young baby gazing at you excitedly. He was extremely happy looking, a funny looking rattle in his cute chubby fist.

You waved at him. He babbled at you.

His mother was turned from you both, looking at the pasta shapes.

The baby chucked his toy as hard as he could towards you. You laughed so abruptly his mother turned around in surprise, watching as you retrieved the rattle and offered it to her. She smiled at you in thanks.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, pushing her long, shiny hair from her face.

“Don’t be, please,” you said.

“Harry’s recently learned that when you throw things, somebody will pick it back up for you,” she said, half-amused, half-bitter.

“He’s gorgeous. He can throw things at me as much as he likes.”

“He’s the image of my husband,” she said, waving her fingers at Harry. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t tell me what?” James asked.

You’d seen him before. He was the friend that accompanied Sirius to your bookstore a few weeks ago, peering at you around the corner.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said.

“James?” Lily questioned, looking between you both, mildly perturbed.

“This is Y/N. You work at the book shop near us, don’t you? Where Sirius goes,” James said, dropping the kitchen towels in the cart. Harry’s happiness was tenfold. “Hello, little man.”

“I’m Lily,” she introduced herself. “Sirius is Harry’s godfather, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, though you weren’t sure at all. Harry looked very old, and Sirius had mentioned a friend who was expecting. Looks could be deceiving, but Lily didn’t appear pregnant at all. James was watching you with an amused look on his face.

“He’s 8 months,” he said, grinning.

“He’s lovely.”

“So, you know Sirius then?” Lily asked. They were a stunning couple, grinning and fresh-faced.

“He buys a lot of books.”

They both laughed. “I bet he does,” James said.

You frowned, feeling as though you’d been walking down the stairs and missed the last one.

“James,” Lily scolded.

“I haven’t seen him for a while,” you rambled nervously.

“Don’t fear, he’s off helping Remus with a pest problem,” James said.

Lily and James were amazing at making small talk. They were the kind of people you felt like you could easily have been friends with in another life, both of them enamoring you with their charm and obvious love for each other. They moved like they were facing the same winds, like blades of grass next to each other. And baby Harry was an adorable plus.

Only because Harry was beginning to get annoyed with his constraints did they bid you goodbye. You’d retrieved your basket, telling them to come around the bookstore any time, and mentioning the storytelling hours on weekends. Lily promised to be there.

“And Y/N!” James called.

You turned back around.

“Sirius is allergic to shellfish!” he said over his shoulder. His wife punched him in the shoulder.

-

It took you a while to piece it together.

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it became. And even though you weren’t sure what a charming, stunning guy like Sirius wanted with a girl like you, you were 67 percent sure he fancied you.

You waited for the next time you saw him. He was loitering by your desk and trying his every best to look as though he’d been there by pure coincidence. You might’ve believed he was, if you didn’t know what you did.

“I was wondering if you could help me find a book,” you asked him. He turned to you, surprised. You continued. “On how to get a guy to ask you out.”

He gaped at you. Unusually, for somebody so well-composed.

“‘Cos I think I’m doing something wrong.”

“What gave you that impression?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“This boy keeps coming to the bookstore. A while ago, he asked me for a book on pregnancy for a friend who’d already had the baby. He bought a cookbook I recommended knowing he couldn’t eat a single thing in it, and the one time I wasn’t here he went home without buying anything. He even left me flowers.”

You took a deep breath, all the bravery rushing out of you. You looked down at his shoes.

“Despite all this, he hasn’t asked me out.”

“He sounds like an idiot.”

“He isn’t,” you denied. “He’s striking, intelligent and thoughtful. He’s not an idiot at all.”

“I think I have been.”

“Well, maybe a little,” you admonished.

He stepped into your space, shoes a millimeter from your own. You knew if you looked up that he would be incredibly close.

“Would you look at me?”

You held your breath, looking through your lashes at his face. His expression was hard to describe, lips in a straight line, eyes intense. He used his index finger to gently tilt your chin up towards him.

“I’m sorry to mess you around, but I’ve never been a big reader. If you think you can look past that, I’d like to take you out. Wherever you want to go.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself. “It’s a real deal breaker, but I think I’ll get over it,” you said quietly, feeling a shyness creep into your words that you didn’t recognise.

“Yeah?” he asked. He was closer now, his exhales tickling your face. You blinked slowly.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward. You closed your eyes, dazzled at the sensation of his nose against yours. He paused, a second, with his lips just above yours. The second was enough to make your stomach feel as though it had been inhabited by a family of butterflies.

He held your chin between his finger and thumb, finally letting his lips touch yours. He was firm, tender. You brought your hand up to his face, barely able to withhold the urge to run your fingers through his hair, relishing in the way he inhaled at your touch. You let him guide you, kissing you sweetly. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

He pulled away, moving his hand up to the side of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“Wherever I want?” you asked, seeing stars.

“Wherever you want. Heaven, if you’d like.”

<3

the book they talk about is heaven by meiko kawakamI, which didn’t come out all those years ago but i put it in anyways! it’s a brilliant book and i recommend it to everyone

tag club :3:

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @etneufaled @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust

if u want to be added or removed or i forgot you pls message me! thank u tag club

😵💫😵😵💫💫💫💫😵 yes pls matty

I want Matt to tamper w my birth control and have a happy lil accident🥺🥺🥺

the poor man just wants a family so bad. he wants to be a daddy, and he knows - knows - that you’d be the most perfect mommy. there’s really no one else he’d rather carry and care for his child than you <33

every time matt listened to you take that little pill, he couldn’t help the little scowl that would cross his face subconsciously. he thought about how much of a waste it was - how that stupid little pill was standing in the way of him putting his baby inside you every time he fucked you with that purpose.

and after weighing the pros and cons, and for fucks sake just being sick of it, the man decided to take matters into his own hands - and fuck, were those placebo pills worth it once he’d heard the rapid little heartbeat of his baby coming from your belly weeks later.

when he’d heard it, he had to refrain from melting on the spot. he had to refrain from sweeping you up in his arms and letting the tears that brimmed his eyes fall. he had to refrain from falling to his knees just to be closer to you and his baby and from letting endless “thank you”’s fall from his lips.

he refrained from all of it because he wanted you to find out on your own; he didn’t just want the time to lessen your options, but he wanted to give you that - he wanted to give you the build up. he wanted you to have the symptoms, the stress and the wonder, to be there when you have your doubts, and for you to take that test and have that final epiphany. the one that made you realize how you didn’t just want to have a baby, but you wanted to have a family with him.

so, matt bit his tongue and fought a smile when you woke up with a gasp, jumping out of bed and running to the washroom with a strained, “i’m gonna be sick” falling from your lips. he bit his tongue and fought a smile when you clipped your bra together and hissed, muttering under your breath, “stupid fucking bra. you were comfy two days ago, you fucking traitor.” he bit his tongue and fought a smile when you complained about the smell of the eggs he’d made one morning, telling him, “i’m sorry, matty. i dunno why this is happening, i’ve just been feeling so sick and weird lately,” to which he responded by planting a kiss against your forehead and citing that, “you don’t have to apologize, honey. it happens.”

and when he finally, finally, hears you uttering an alarmed “fuck” from the washroom, realizing that you’ve missed your period, all matt can do is hold his breath until you’re coming up to him the next day with a thudding heart and a test in hand.

through your doubts, he reassures you that, “whatever you want to do, baby, we’ll do it,” he makes sure to hold you close, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes and resting a palm against your stomach, letting his thumb drag back and forth subtly as you melted into his touch, “no matter what, i’m here.”

his heart skips a beat when he hears you huff a laugh, feeling his chest vibrate with it from where your head rested as he held you, “of course you are.”

his heart nearly explodes when you lean up and let your chin rest against his chest, allowing your eyes to scan his face fondly as shaky sigh leaving your lips before a small smile fought its way onto your face, “i mean, you would make a good dad, matty.”