SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ When you enter the Love Island villa as a bombshell, you spark an instant, high-stakes connection with the intense and complicated Rafe Cameron. As you navigate each others web of secrets, messy betrayals, and jealous rivals, you must decide if your undeniable chemistry is a genuine match or just a casualty of the game...
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, smut, mentions of past relationships, suggestive content, mentions of addiction, circumstantial cheating/infidelity, general LI drama, arguments, mentions of mental health, drinking, more detailed warnings for each individual chapter
SERIES TAG NAV‧₊˚ #fic analysis☀️ | #sotb | #mailbox:sotb
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high school sweathearts. exes to lovers. forced proximity. opposites attract. cat mum. slytherin. manchester native. girls girl. always singing. the people's princess. laughs at everything. witty and sarcastic. oversharer. friends with everyone. love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. city girl. loud and opinionated. dangerous when drunk.
technically, there were four minter siblings—nick, johnny, simon, and her—but the age gaps had naturally split the house into factions. the older brothers were kind, calm, composed, and busy doing "older sibling" things. and then there was simon and his baby sister. built-in best friend, video game partner, co-conspirator since birth.
from the moment she could talk, she was yelling over him. and from the moment she could walk, he was dragging her into games she didn't understand but refused to lose in.
they did everything together. from football in the garden to secret snack runs to late night fifa. she couldn't care less about the offside rule—all she wanted to do was hang out with her big brother.
and simon? he let her. he shared everything. his room. his hoodie. his ps2. his terrible opinions.
when simon was 12 years old, he came home absolutely fuming. some boy at school — jj something — had called him 'lanky' in front of the whole class. she was nine. she didn't know what lanky meant, but she knew it had made her brother sad, and that was enough.
so the next time she saw jj's annoying younger brother, same age as her, teasing her in the school corridor with the same insult, she did the only thing that made sense to her at nine years old.
she punched him. in the face. broke his nose, even. it was a messy, chaotic fight that ended in two detentions, one very confused teacher, and a strange, shaky truce between the minter siblings and the olatunji siblings that would — against all odds — grow into a lifelong bond.
when simon started posting on youtube in his room, she wanted in. while he was uploading fifa videos on miniminter, she was sitting on the floor filming q&as on an old flip cam. lip gloss too bright. lighting non-existent.
they both grew. seperately, but together.
then came the sidemen.
by 2013, simon was filming every weekend, working with the og crew, growing a channel that would change all their lives. she was around for all of it — helping with thumbnails, occasionally hopping into a video, eating leftover pizza after shoots.
the boys loved her immediately. jj called her "miniest minter." josh made it a ritual to bring her iced coffee before a shoot. ethan was practically her cameraman. tobi let her paint his nails. vik even made vines with her. and simon? simon pretended he hated that she was always around — but never actually told her to leave.
wroetoshaw.
he wasn’t there at the start. he joined in 2014. which meant she didn’t know him. at least — not yet.
harry lewis came into their lives like a tornado in a blue hoodie. they brought him in like a missing puzzle piece. the perfect mix of explosive fifa rage and hilarious.
except… he didn’t know her.
the boys had been talking about her for months. y/n this, y/n that. so, naturally, harry asked. "sorry—who the fuck is y/n?"
simon didn't even look up from his phone. "my sister."
harry's ears immediately perked up. "you have a sister? how old?"
“yeah, your age,” josh chimed in, like it was common knowledge. “she’s around a lot. how have you not met her yet?”
tobi nodded. “you’ll meet her soon. she's... something.”
"she's fuckin' gorgeous, is what she is." ethan grinned.
simon groaned. “don’t say that.”
twenty minutes later, as if summoned, she walked in. oversized hoodie (stolen from simon), lips glossed, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, speaker poking out of her bag blaring graduation.
she didn’t even glance up at first. just waltzed in like she owned the place, humming to the beat of the song, nails clacking lightly against her phone screen as she dug through her tote bag.
“simon,” she called casually, still not making eye contact, “did you take my charger last night?”
simon didn’t look up either. “no.”
“liar.”
“check your bathroom drawer.”
“i did. all I found was your deodorant and a full bag of haribos.”
“so that’s where i left them—”
jj cut in, already grinning. “y/n, meet harry.”
she paused. looked up. finally. harry stood there, awkward and wide-eyed, a half-eaten flapjack in his hand and his soul visibly leaving his body because, what. the. fuck.
nobody said she’d be hot. he hadn’t known what to expect — maybe someone who looked vaguely like simon with glasses or braces or weird posture. he wasn’t ready for this. she didn’t look like simon at all. not lanky. not awkward. she was… gorgeous. completely unaware of it. or maybe very aware. either way, he was spiralling.
she tilted her head. "you're wroetoshaw?"
he nodded. “technically, yeah. i mean—yes. harry. i’m harry. but that’s—uh—yeah.”
she blinked. "... okay."
he cleared his throat. "you don't look like simon. at all."
"i'll take that as a compliment." she grinned and moved toward the couch. "hold this for a second, will you?" she gestured toward her coffee.
of course he took it without thinking. zero hesitation. and then… she walked off. sat herself on the couch like it was hers, casually pulling things out of her bag, legs tucked under her like she’d been there forever.
harry was still standing there. clutching her half-melted iced coffee. blinking. breathing weird.
she held out her hand, palm open, not even looking. he gave it back. obviously.
she leaned back, finally looking up at him properly. “nice to meet you, wroetoshaw.”
“harry,” he said again, a little too quickly. “you can—uh. call me harry.”
she smiled, lips glossy, eyes unreadable. “okay, harry.”
and just like that, he was gone. done. dead. buried. six feet under. fully fucking smitten.
from that day on, they just clicked. in a “bickering all day but also maybe sharing snacks” way. in a “she steals his hoodies and he pretends not to care” way. in a “everyone else noticed before they did” way. in a way that looked a lot like love — long before either of them would call it that.
it was just harry and y/n. y/n and harry. like it had always been them. like it would always be them.
then her youtube career really took off. people loved her. she never planned anything. just set her camera up on a pile of books, lit a candle for vibes, and started talking. about boys. about bad dates. quick grwms and girl advice. a stupid challenge or two. but they really loved her.
it didn’t take long before she had a solid fanbase. then a manager. then pr packages. then brand deals.
the modelling thing started by accident—like most things in her life.
she had posted a photo promoting her new video. that was it.
messy hair. glossy lips. stacked necklaces. low rise cargos and a white tank top. the most basic fit ever. mirror dusty. lighting mid.
someone at a beauty agency saw it, and that was it. in the blink of an eye, she was being flown to paris. then milan. then london fashion week.
one minute she was filming chaotic mukbangs on her bedroom floor — the next she was wearing silk dresses and glass heels and getting flown out for perfume launches.
suddenly, she wasn’t miniminter's sister, or the girl with good advice—she was walking for campaigns, fronting lookbooks, holding tiny designer handbags she used to manifest in her notes app.
but she didn't change. not even a bit. she was still the same girl who pulled up to sidemen shoots with pizza boxes in her hand. still vlogged in her pajamas. still did football slip-n-slide challenges with the boys because it was fun.
and harry?
harry watched it all happen — quietly, protectively, helplessly in love. he was never far behind. in her vlogs. in her comments. in the background of paparazzi shots, holding her hand. in her phone, always.
because no matter how many runways she walked or editorials she booked, she always came home to him. her favourite face to see after the cameras stopped flashing.
I re-watched the Tana 20 v 1 and I’m imaging mrs bog joins as a joke without Harry knowing and gets jealous by Tana going on about how mrs bog is the hottest thing she’s ever seen and he’s just like “nah nah nah cut the cameras”
there would have to have a snarky comment though that would hurt him and then make him mad because she doesn’t see the flaw in it 🫠 there are so many things i can think of, usually to do with breaking up again (we know harry gets more offended abt the topic now that his mrs who can somewhat joke a little abt it now) sO even tana saying something so forward like ‘when y’all break-up again, i’m coming back here to FUCK.’ and it’s even just her winking and pointing at tana that has harry like ????? ok but if i did that you would have me 6ft underground ?
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summary: 9 months of growing babyMD. [6.4k words.]
pairing: reader x chrismd
notes: baby-related post for mother’s day! have a SMau to go with this hopefully in the next week or so! 🥰 let me know what you think! hopefully there’s not too many mistakes. lots of love, don’t forget to reblog. <33
IT WAS KIND OF EMBARRASSING HOW LONG IT TOOK you to find out you were pregnant. That you’d missed your period. That suddenly hating all your favourite foods and vomiting over certain smells wasn’t just a coincidence. No, they all in fact, soon added up to make perfect sense.
But still funny.
Chris had come home one day after shooting a video, finding you in bed, typing something into your laptop when he began to telling you about the day he had. You were smiling and intrigued to hear, but the sight of him pulling off his football boots on your lovely carpeted floor already had you closing your eyes and inwardly gagging.
They didn’t even smell that bad! But . . it was even the thought of them being sweaty and wet with grass — you had to hold your hand up to stop him from talking to run to your bathroom again.
“Y/n! They don’t even smell that bad!” He smelt them himself, and it was true, he’d had worse pairs.
The smell of freshly cut grass had you heaving. Your lavender candles had you heaving. When the smell of strong coffee had you debating to make a dash to the toilet you knew something was up.
“Are you alright, love? You’re looking awfully pale,” Chris’s mum voiced her concern, cupping your face to look at your little ghost face with tired bags. It was never the type of you. Always warm cheeks and a bright smile, makeup always done and hair at least styled when thrown into a ponytail.
You were bare — which was okay, but it wasn’t you.
Then again, it was peak flu season ‘til the start of March and you knew something was going around. “Little darling, are you ok?”
“I told her she probably has Covid,” Chris nonchalantly put his two pence in, ravaging his fridge back home.
You wanted to scoff at him. He just didn’t get it. Not everyone is as energetic as a golden retriever, ready to go! go! go! all the time. You did feel a little run down lately but you knew it was probably just seasonal illnesses and your weak immune system — as well as the possibility of a hormone imbalance or upcoming cycle. “I’m alright, I just need to eat more. Will you pass me a yoghurt?”
“You’re probably due your period as well, I bet.”
“Oh yeah, that’s just what I’d need,” you sniffed, thinking of having to deal with these flu-like symptoms alongside the horror of a period.
“Oh, it’s the worst,” she rubbed your hand, understanding the pain.
His mum doted on you. You’d both flown over to Jersey for Mother’s Day to see her (as well as your own) to give them all the little gifts you’d got them. She didn’t doubt for a moment that you picked every one of them, knowing her better than her son did. He’d be lost without you.
“Bring that up with you,” you nodded to the bag you could have easily have carried upstairs, but left it to Chris instead as you took yourself and your scrumptious snack upstairs.
Chris’s Mum looked to her son to see him engrossed in the label of the carton he was drinking from, having her almost roll her eyes from just how clueless he was.
“What?” He finally looked wide-eyed when he realised she was trying to grab his attention.
“Is she . . .”
He looked at her anticipatedly, “is she . . what?”
She waved him over hurriedly and he crouched next to her, lowering his ear where they whispered between them. “Has she taken . . y’know.”
“What?”
“Has she taken a test?”
Chris stood up again, and nodded. “Yeah, she did. It was negative, I was only joking,” he walked back over to the fridge.
His mum grabbed him by his clothes and pulled him, “NOT A COVID TEST, YOU TWAT! A pregnancy test!” She whisper-yelled to him, startling him by her unexpected raised tone.
A pregnancy test? Why . . no, of course you hadn’t taken a pregnancy test! Why would you? When had you ever?
Chris looked at his mum like she was crazy for accusing him of committing such acts! How dare she accuse him of such thing! How dare she . . even think I get up to such thing! Who does she take me for?! Why is she thinking this in the first place! Ew!
She wasn’t daft.
And her unimpressed face showed that. “What? Do you not think I know you have sex?”
“Wh— d— MUM!” He got all defensive. He didn’t think he would ever have this conversation in his life, especially at his big age. “Wha!—”
“Oh Chris it happens!” She was fed up with his stuttering. She didn’t care! She needed answers! “You have sex and you get pregnant! Have you . . recently, y’know—”
“MOTHER!”
“Christopher,” she warned. She wasn’t joking. She just wanted to help.
Suddenly, Chris’ face fell as he took in her words. Pregnant? Were you pregnant? Was that possible? He did the calculations in his head.
The last time you had your period . . was before . . and then after . . finished in time for Valentines . . or was it Valentines? He thought you mentioned something about being on it then or something.
Were you? He thought back to the occasion:
“Oh my God, you utter sap.” You gushed at the sight of the rose petals sprinkled across the bed with all your gifts laid out in gift bags. It was the wooden board with red velvet cupcakes sitting out on display that caught your eye most, with chocolate covered strawberries, and then the big Valentine’s card propped at the front, rather than the Dior giftbag and Harrods box sitting behind.
Chris made you laugh the entire night, especially because you hadn’t got the urge to drink so much, just lightly on cocktails, so you got to see him get there rightly after a mouth-watering meal:
“Come on.”
“Chris, no,” you laughed, trying to hold him off like a hyperactive dog with your hands on his face. He was more than tipsy, hot and bothered and so unbelievably horny. You were laughing so hard at him sitting on top of you in bed.
“You’re not even gonna shag me on Valentine’s day?!”
“No!”
“Why? I love you?” He complained, his lips ghosting your face due to the strength you had of pushing him off you. “I need you,” his hands rested at your sides, creeping up your ribs.
“No!”
“Why?!”
“Because!” You whisper-yelled, scared somehow fellow residents would hear your very personal conversation. “It’s dangerous territory! I’m ovulating right now and don’t have a pill to take for the next four days!”
“You’re what?”
“SEE! You don’t even know what that means!”
“Y/n, you can’t do this to me.”
You’d already checked to see if you could be dangerous tonight and get away with it but your tracking app had pointed out why exactly you shouldn’t do just that. It was the first thing you’d done when he’d picked you up - of course you planned to shag on Valentine’s day! But your prescription has been late coming in and you just had to deal with it.
“Chris,” it was so hard to keep a straight face. You would love nothing more than to ride him, but like you’d just said — it was a risk and a half. “Chris,” you repeated, laughing as he tried to lower himself closer in his slightly sweaty state, his shirt already off and his hair falling to his head due to the stuffiness and heat of the room, only worsening his frustrations. You could feel your hands growing clammy holding him at his chest.
“Y/n, I don’t care. We’ll deal with the consequences,” your elbows finally caved and his lips immediately puckered against your cheek, smushing your face against his as if he couldn’t get enough while trailing his mouth along your jaw and down your neck, “later,” his hands ran down your hips and to your legs where he smoothly pulled them apart.
“Deal with it later?!” You half-exclaimed, half-whimpered, already sucked into his trap as long as he didn’t take his lips off your neck. Sucking and biting, your mind was already foggy as his hand began to slip down between your legs.
No. This wasn’t good.
“Yes, if it happens, it happens,” the slight laugh in his voice made you laugh because of the whack he was talking - clearly saying whatever it was to get you to give in, and it didn’t take much for him to persuade you.
He looked unconvinced at his Mum. “No. No! She’s just sick! Get her a paracetamol!”
“Get her to do one, won’t you?” She grabbed his hand, she was really worried about you.
Chris never told you to do no such thing, he’d felt weird the whole ride home. He was too scared to tell you — you’d probably get all worked up, panicked and take it as him hinting you were packing on a few pounds - and then everyone was upset! You were still oblivious to the conversation and going about your day, still doing the washes of dirty clothes you’d brought to Jersey and shopping for your dinner every night of the week. Chris had gotten so unbelievably in his head about the possibility of you being pregnant he didn’t know how he was supposed to react.
The thing was — he wasn’t . . worried about it.
He wasn’t scared.
In fact, he caught himself fantasizing what if.
What if you did though, what if you had a baby.
Imagine he had to do up the back room into a nursery . . or have a little highchair slotted into your kitchen table. What if he got to tell all his friends or announce it to family.
It wasn’t the first time it didn’t seem like such a bad idea: you mothering his kids was something Chris always planned on. Not anyone else - just you. He’d laugh at the thought of having a child with anyone else. He’d always felt that way.
Having past jobs in childcare, assisting in nursery schools and coming home to tell him all about the funny stories 6-year-olds told you or showing the pictures they drew — he knew you were one of those people who’d make a great mum. A complete natural. You just understood kids and they loved you - the amount of times you’d told him a parent had to drag their own crying child off you on a Friday afternoon because they’d miss you over the weekend was crazy!
But you were young and he knew that; he knew it was a heat of the moment thing. Just ‘cause he couldn’t find any cons didn’t mean it was a good idea. He knew there was a time when the timing was right and you were both ready and willing, but for now, you were young adults, still grateful for your couples holidays and crazy nights out with friends.
The what if moment quickly turned to dust when he’d saw you lay out the pack of tampons on the counter when unpacking the weekly shop, stocking up because you knew it was due.
So he let out a breath, and shook the thought out of his head and went back to editing his video.
He was always working anyway. He was literally packing for a night away for a Sidemen video this week. He wouldn’t have the time.
He wouldn’t be able to parent at all! He could just about look after himself! And how did you even talk to a child? Chris, what are you thinking, mate. Just ‘cause you know your kids would be cute doesn’t mean you should have one.
But the tampons you bought were never put to use as you neared the end of March and you’d gone the whole 31 days without any sight of blood. It was concerning, considering it was usually on time, but you’d remembered how your prescription of your pill had a shortage and there’s been a small timespan of you having to scrounge.
Being sick once again at the sight of Chris’s grassy shoes left by the door, you checked your calendar for when you were free to make an appointment at your Dcotors, entirely fed up with feeling up the left. You were quite scared and your nerves ran wild incase it was a bigger problem than when you first brushed off.
But then you saw the date, the note you’d made of when your period was due before Valentines and how long ago the previous one lasted, considering your doctor had told you to track your days of ovulation for when you were in shortage of your birth control.
You drove straight to your pharmacy, the girl at the desk probably laughing at you as you’d only just collected your prescription a week before - and now you were lifting a pregnancy test.
Sitting on that toilet was the most terrifying moment of your life. You felt like you were 15 again.
You were convinced it would be negative anyway but it was still a terrifying 3 minutes - the longest 3 minutes of your life.
Chris was on his way home and you didn’t know if you did or didn’t want him with you to find out the results.
The alarm went off and you froze with it in your hand.
Pregnant 3+
You threw it in the bin and dropped your head into your hands.
No. Way.
Wrong. Incorrect.
You picked it out of the bin and sat with your hand on your mouth, reading these clearly false details!
How did — when even — where— you paused, thinking back to any moments that stuck out, but I mean when was the headboard not banging against the wall with you two.
Nope, nothing in particular stuck out as you thought over potential conceivable moments.
You stood in the bathroom, looking at the highly inaccurate test.
Fake.
You grabbed your car keys and headed for the door, jumping when it opened before you reached the handle. “WOW!”
“Wow,” you stepped back, keys rattling in your hand.
A smile broke out onto your boyfriend’s face at the sight of you. “Hello.”
“Hi,” you breathed, offering a smile back.
You were glad to see him home.
But not in this very situation.
“Where you going? You headed out?”
“Umm, just to the shop,” you improvised, watching him wheel in the small suitcase of equipment. Your heart was racing.
His smile faltered as he watched you stand tensely by the door, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you felt frozen with his gentle look on you.
“Do you . . want me to come with you?” He stood straighter, sensing your vibe from a mile off. Where was the reunited hug? Where was the kiss you greeted him with? And the comment on how cute he was? You were being strange.
“No, it’s ok, I'm just grabbing something. Do you need anything?” You watched him go into the bathroom after a long journey.
“No, I’ll come w—”
He paused, arms falling to his sides as he saw the white stick sitting out on the counter, and apprehensively he picked it up.
You wondered what he was doing, wondering if you could just slip out without him, but then horror hit as you realised what you’d forgot to hide from him coming in:
“ARE YOU JOKING?!”
Your face fell.
He walked out with it in his hand, eyes glued to you.
Were you joking?!
What?
“Is this a prank?” He asked, almost sounding annoyed. Looking annoyed.
That made you worry even more. You shook your head hurriedly, unable to talk. “Chris, I-I, I d—I”
He kept looking at you and it was worsening your nerves, striking a slight tremble to your fingers.
He looked around him, for your phone, for a camera, but he couldn’t see any, just your phone that was face down by the kitchen sink, abandoned.
“Is this real?” He spat out.
You gulped.
You didn’t know what the right answer was. Did he want it to be a joke? Did he not? Your response was solely based on his reaction, because if he wasn’t ready, you weren’t ready.
You shook your head more, not wanting to upset him further. “I promise,” you spoke gently, “it’s real. I need to take another, but I’m about to—” the look in his eyes made you stop talking.
Was he . . going to cry?
His brows were still pulled but his eyes weren’t angry.
You looked at him cautiously, “Chris—”
He took a step back, pulling away like you were going to take it off him.
Tears. Tears welled in his eyes and he immediately turned away to hide his emotions, bringing his arm to stop any falling.
You were frozen on what to do.
“Chris,” your hand grabbed his arm to pull him back, “Chris, what’s wrong?” You panicked, why was he getting so upset? “Chris.”
“Is this real?! Are you serious?! Is this yours?” He spat out, not meaning to sound so angry but he didn’t want you to have him on right now.
You nodded hurriedly, concern written all over you - you still didn’t know if these were tears of frustration or not.
“You’re pregnant?”
You nodded again, “I—y-yeah, well I wanna do another one to make sure but—” you didn’t know what he was getting so worked up for. You cupped his face to stop him, “what’s the matter? We can fix this, y’know!”
His features changed and his brows immediately furrowed again as he held onto your wrist that held him. He screwed his face up at that, “what are you talking about?”
Now you pulled a confused look. “What? Chris, you don’t need to get upset over this, we still have—” options.
“I’m not upset about it, Y/n,” he interrupted you, “I . . I’m fine about it.”
Now your face really was a picture. “What?”
“I’m not annoyed,” he lips began to turn shyly into a smile, sniffing his nose, “I . . are you sure?”
Now you were struggling to get the words out. “Y—yeah. Yeah! Yeah, it’s mine. I swear. We can take another one to double check but i’m . . it says so . .” you shrugged, not knowing what else to say. You felt like you were dreaming. You knew this couldn’t be his reaction, there was no way. You were still shaking.
His teary eyes tore from you to the test in his hands, where he lifted it to inspect to confirm the sight he was seeing. You couldn’t believe the sight. You had to be dreaming! What was he doing?! You would never get that image out of him staring down at that stick like it was made out of gold.
“Oh my fucking God,” he exclaimed in a hush, almost into himself, the same way he did when he watched his team steal the ball from on his phone, and were headed straight towards the net. He couldn't believe it. He couldn’t believe this was his. And yours. “Oh my fucking God!”
“Are you actually okay?” You still worried this was all just sarcasm.
“Yes, Y/n! I’m-I’m—” speechless. “Are you really . . gonna have a baby?”
That struck you with the worst anxiety as he said it aloud, making it more real, but seeing that face anticipated with excitement and hope, you knew now was the perfect timing. “I–I guess so,” you finally broke into a giddy smile as the realisation hit you for what this meant.
You were gonna have a baby!
Tears were shed in your home and not long after, it kicked in more than ever when you found yourself going to all your appointments and filling your shopping bags. You couldn’t believe it was real.
You were supposed to be the emotional one but it was Chris who done all the crying.
Sitting in the hospital room, Chris taking a seat to stare at the monitor, the midwife pointed to the tiny spec on the screen that was your baby. You were almost 6 weeks along. The combination of the sight and sound of the speedy heartbeat: Chris looked at you and immediately crumbled: lips and brows frowning and quickly hiding his eyes as he cursed himself for crying again. He gripped your hand for dear life.
And it almost made you cry - but you’d tearfully laughed instead, besotted by this highly emotional side whilst feeling like you were the one doing most of the comforting.
He showed that sonogram off to everyone. Kept in his wallet and made into his lock screen, he’d use any excuse to tell people: store clerks, his barber, the postman.
Announced online with the pair of you holding up an infant’s Arsenal kit, the internet went into shock, hundreds of thousands of people liking and commenting their congratulations, including footballers you barely knew but Chris of course appreciated. The world was excited for a Baby MD.
Your family were in hysterics; sobbing for days upon realising just how grown up you both were. His family were the same, they hadn’t seen it coming, even though his Mum had guessed it, she still burst out into tears at the news with a wobbly voice, “—I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.”
Friends were stunned, and your girls were over the mood for you.
“Ahh!! Mummy MD!” Faith jumped up and down with you. You laughed at the name whilst it warmed your heart. She’d already organised all the shopping dates you were to go on this week to buy all things pink and girly — no football kits yet.
“I already know this baby is going to be the cutest thing i’ve laid my eyes on,” Freya dabbed her eyes over brunch, clutching the scan in her hand.
“I already know Chris is going to have her down as a professional footballer in the making, or a professional athlete at least!” T claimed.
The boys were stunned, few wondering how the hell Chris MD was going to cope with a baby and kiss goodbye those laddish nights out and match outings - but hearing him talk about the plans he already had in mind when they were born and his effort into accompanying you in practically everything — they realised he was probably more than ready out of all of them. He’d never been so excited for this little surprise in all his life.
“You’ve actually surprised everybody with how you’re going about this whole thing, and I’m excited for you man. What was it like finding out?”
“I thought he was fuming at me,” you revealed.
“—I didn’t mean to sound angry! I sounded like I had such an attitude but I was gonna be annoyed if it was a prank! I thought she was joking—”
“I was scared that he was annoyed at me, so I didn’t know if he wanted me to be joking or not—”
“So how did you actually tell him though, what happened?” Calfreezy asked as you both sat across from him on set of The Fellas Podcast, getting quizzed by both him and Chip as you sat with your four month sized belly.
“He found out himself.”
“I came home from filming and I opened the door to her going out - to get another test! And I went to the toilet first and just saw it sitting there.”
“No,” Chip said.
“Yeah, I actually shit, I was like how stupid could I be to leave it sitting?”
“And then I went off on one ‘cause I thought she was messing me about.”
“That’s crazy. And did you discuss your plans or—”
“I was only gonna be ready if he felt ready. I wasn’t gonna be able to raise a child if he wasn’t alongside me, you know? He has the busier schedule and stuff and I–it just depended on if he felt like we were ready.” You answered, looking to your boyfriend to your left.
“Damn, that’s sweet. And now look, you got a BabyMD due in the Fall, am I right in saying that?”
“Yep,” Chris nodded, trying not to get too excited.
“Jeez! So we got a BabyMD and Baby Behzinga on the way, double whammy!” Chip hit the desk. “Who’s next? Me and you?”
Freezy looked at him, “what? Me and you have a child?”
“Y . . . yeah.” He went along with the joke.
“Yeah, ok.” He shrugged. “Fuck it, let’s wrap this shit up and get to the adoption centre.”
“ChipFreezy.”
“Was your Mum excited?” Cal asked the next question.
“My Mum was soo excited,” Chris swayed in his seat as he thought back to the moment in his head.
They were stunned. It was the excitement in Chris’s face when he told them made it all that more wholesome, and seeing your smile whilst watching him just proved to them how perfect a match you were; and how lucky this beautiful little baby would be to have you as it’s mum and dad.
His Mum, despite tearing up, wanted to roll her eyes at the football-related babygrow in the box, and Kelly was simply unable to comprehend it and shouting and hitting her brother to stop lying to her.
They helped pick things out for the nursery. It was a project Chris had begun in an instant. He stripped the walls, gave his opinion on decor and built every piece of furniture there was, sometimes with you, sometimes with his Dad, and sometimes - over a beer with mates. Reev was most helpful. Behz and Theo would give the updates on the current match score as Stephen would sit back and observe, making backhanded jokes. Harry wanted to help as much as he could but all he’d done was screw wrong parts to wrong parts, but it was the thought that counted. It was adorable to see them seem so excited for their friend - you were convinced they fed off his excitement which was why everyone was so buzzed.
“You better bring them to PitchSide with you, you better.”
The gender reveal resulted in even more excitement.
You slightly dreaded the day, just because you were anxious for how Chris might have reacted if it wasn’t what he had envisioned the entire time.
I mean a boy was what every guy wanted, no?
And Chris — you just knew he’d been dreaming about that bond with a son since before kids had even come into the equation between you two - to do all the stereotypical stuff, to have them be their mini-me.
To play football; to watch football; to discuss football — to breathe football like he did.
It didn’t mean to say he couldn't do those things if he had a girl, but having a girl automatically had him thinking of playing dolls and dressing up. He didn’t think he could make it appeal to them when they had you as their mother, their fashionable, trendy, shopaholic mother. You’d probably bring them along for matching pedicures before he could suggest kicking a ball about – it’d been your excuse to get out of filming a video before!
But the day came and Chris was in tears regardless of the colour. Had he hyped you both up that it was a boy the whole time? Yes.
Did he realise just how much he needed a girl when pink exploded from that football he kicked in front of all your friends and family? Absolutely.
“Are you okay?” You cried with happiness as your friends around you shouted and cheered. Chris was in shock the minute he saw the colour and felt his eyes gloss over immediately after, bringing his face to his hands as it hit him.
A baby girl.
His baby girl, to love and protect forever.
“Chris, darling! Are you okay?” You smiled more with a croaky tone, trying to get him to look at you instead of crying into his hand, until eventually, he lifted his head to nod at you, tears flowing with a big emotional smile, pulling you close to him to hold.
Finding out it was a girl affected nothing. Could you now paint the nursery pink and buy a couple little dresses and bows? Yes! Did that stop the other half of the wardrobe being packed with multiple football kits? Of course not!
“Oh my God,” you heard him say from her room, walking in to find him standing by the changing table with a bow-clip between his thumb and finger, rummaging through her stuff again, “this is the exact same shade red as this!” You glanced at the Arsenal jersey on the hanger.
Chris made those 9 months heavenly. Let the Baby Mamas hate because he made your pregnancy a breeze where he was able to! If you suggested to get something, it was bought. If you suggested you do something, he’d have it done.
“If her favourite food isn’t yoghurt, I’m going to be really fucking surprised,” he sighed, getting ready to head out to by you yet another pack of different yoghurts. You ate about 5 a day.
“They’re so good!”
You didn’t tell him . . but you knew he was already whipped before she’d even arrived.
He was so persistent, and low-key kind of clingy. He was even more protective with you, wanting you in his sight at all times to make sure no-one was of inconvenience. He wanted to stay in a lot of the time unless you argued you needed a night out, even if you were only drinking mocktails, you didn’t want to miss out from all the fun.
He kept a hand on your bump at all times if he could, eyes trained on your surroundings.
That baby girl was his prized possession and he would do anything to keep her safe.
He’d already began to view you in a different light; fuzziness taking over when he saw you doing so much as mopping the floor or washing all the newborn clothes, swarmed with gratitude and love knowing you were carrying his child.
An utter milf. There were no cons to you being pregnant: subtle glow, bigger tits and heightened sex drive?! This man had a spring in his step those whole 9 months.
But even on your low days, when you maybe had a breakout of acne on your face or felt all disgusting and achy, he was always there to pick you up.
“Well that’s what they say about girls, they take all your beauty,” you huffed, feeling like a hippopotamus as he put your shoes on for you.
“Well if she gets so much as a smidge of beauty from her Mum, she’ll be the most gorgeous girl in the world,” he stated. “My gorgeous girl,” he winked up at you, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies it embarrassingly gave you.
He thought you were godly, being able to go about your day as normal with a literal human being growing inside. He couldn’t believe there was one just chilling in there as you slept at night! “Stop giving your Mum a hard time, she’s lovely you know,” he spoke against your skin as part of his nightly routine, shirtless and with a hand pressed to your belly, he did his bit in trying to make his voice recognisable. “She can be a bit moody when she doesn’t get her own way, but she’s lovely.”
You fell in love with him even more too, in continuous disbelief by how . . smitten he already was for this baby. How he was present for everything and eager to know all.
“—and we’re gonna go on all sorts of adventures, we have your first holiday to look forward to . . fun days at the park where i’ll let you score as many goals as you want if i’m feeling nice enough . .” you barley tapped his head, “we’ll go to Jersey all the time so you can see your nan and grandads, go on all those flower fields dates your mum loves to go to and pick peonies of strawberries or whatever . . oh and paddle boarding . . days at the beach, the farm, Emirates of course, as well— you get to meet all your uncles very soon, Reev has his calendar marked and Arthur has gotten you about 100 books already so you’ll be nice and smart when you come out. We’ll get to hear you say your first word which is obviously going to be dada—”
He had it all planned out and his eagerness made your heart swoon. You couldn’t have asked for a better half. Sometimes, it felt like he was ahead of you at times.
“—so you take this off and it goes in here, then you press this button and it’ll run for about 20 minutes,” he showed you his discovery of working the sterilizing station for your newborn’s milk bottles. He’d been bored in the house while you’d gone baby shopping with Faith and decided to take it out of the box.
“Good. You can be in charge of that, then,” you patted his back, needing to sit down asap.
He’d come home with things he’d picked himself that you didn’t necessarily disapprove of. “I got this for her room. I know it’s not with the colour-scheme but look how cute it is,” he held up a lamp that was an adorably carved into a wooden bear, “and then I saw these. And then I just grabbed this because we can put it on when we change it around. Oh! I saw this,” he held up a little summer dress with daisies plastered on it, “do you like it?”
He was the cutest ever. “That is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” you agreed, closing your Baby Names book.
Your bump wasn’t as big as you’d first expected, it felt big and felt heavy, but considering you and Chris weren’t the biggest people, you could have felt a lot heavier. She was going to be a small girl.
“—and there’s another one just 15 minutes down the road on the other end where your daddy also films, so your mummy can push you around the path while your daddy works and you can see what he does! And then—” he went off on another rant as you both laid in bed, his head on your popped stomach, talking away to the tiny being chilling in there. “—you can help out one day, maybe you’ll be able to get in a video! Shoot a couple pens!”
You wanted to roll your eyes at the football talk but your heart burst from the sweetness of his tone, from the gentleness of his hand rubbing little circles on your hump. Stroking his hair as he rambled on, you realised how lucky you were. How lucky this baby was to have him.
“And what happens if you use all of that? What do you do?”
The anxiety really began to kick in when the final days rolled around and you were getting your hospital bag ready. Arthur (TV) sat on your couch as you used the floor, rolled another babygrow into the small case, better put, shoving it between all the things you’d been advised to pack for her, and for yourself. “I mean hopefully I won’t use up everything if it’s a short stay, but if not, Chris will probably just have to bring more from home,” you reached for the second pack of vests to be put in.
“I actually love her so much and she’s not even here,” Chris held the tiny onesie tightly in his hands after exhaling the heavenly scent you’d used when washing all her things in the washing machine.
“Have you got any names?” Arthur smiled at him, a little excited too, considering his friend, his childhood friend, was having a kid. He was always gonna be such a cool dad.
The question has you looking at your boyfriend with a knowing gaze. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know! You’re about to pop, y/n!”
“I know, Arthur! D’you not think I know that,” you laughed at him, throwing a tiny pair of mittens at his head.
“I’ve given her a list of names and she says—”
“—I’m not naming my child after a football player, sorry, it’s just not happening.”
“It’s not even— oh my God, Arthur, who do you think of when you hear the name—”
“Aw nah, Chris, don’t bring me into this,” his good friend replied, regretting asking the question, although amused.
You weren’t naming your daughter after Arsène Wenger, Thierry Henry, Arteta or anyone like that!
Not. A. Chance.
“I said we’ll know her name when we see her,” you quipped, inspecting a freshly washed one-piece.
“. . . not even a middle name? Vieira? Like Patrick Viei—”
“NO!”
Just when you thought you were all good to go and play the waiting game, you seemed to remember something you’d missed.
Like setting up the bloody baby monitors, or fitting the car seat in the back of the car.
“Oh my God, I can’t wait to see her,” he grumbled impatiently, making sure it was safe and secure for his little pea he would be bringing home any day now.
“Me too,” you huffed, feeling like you had a bowling ball strapped to you as you ate your Müller yoghurt. Clothes weren’t fitting anymore and it was rare to see in anything other than his hoodies and running shorts.
“I wonder who she’s gonna look like.”
“I hope she looks like you. I think she will,” he came out of the car to stand up straight. He looked at you watching him unconvinced, smiling at that challenging look about your face when he said something competitive to your word.
“I dunno, I think those MD genes are pretty strong,” you pursed your lips.
He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I don’t care. As long as she’s healthy,” he kissed you again, “and has a good right foot.”
You pushed him away, shaking your head at his joke.
And you know what?
She did come out with a good right foot, with all 5 toes, she was born in the early hours of a Saturday morning, weighing just under 7 pounds. A tiny girl, but she was perfect.
Obsessed. Everyone was obsessed. You couldn’t believe the little tiny person sleeping on your chest was yours.
Chris was shaking the whole time, even when holding your hand, you could feel him trembling more than you, riddled with nerves, he just wanted everything to go well. The instant he heard those little wails, he felt a shift in his world.
He wanted to stay in this bubble forever, enjoying those first few hours with his newly born daughter, holding her close in the hospital room, he wanted to protect her forever. He was obsessed with her, she was his whole world now.
Tears pricked in your eyes at the sight of him, how he cuddled the little doll, swaying her softly up and down in his arms, he couldn’t stop kissing her soft baby cheeks and head.
He carried her into the nursery, into the room you’d designed and the boys had built, and switched on the little bear lamp he’d bought as he introduced her to her room, her home. “I hope you like it . . I did it all myself.”
“Ahm!” you coughed.
“Well, your mum designed it . . and did some bits. .” he kissed your cheek reassuringly, “I-did-most-though.”
You shook your head with a roll of your eyes, but your heart burned with gratitude.
You were so lucky to have them both, and couldn’t wait for all the new adventures you’d get up to as a family . . whether it was those sunflower fields, the beach or stadium dates, you were ready to do it as a three.
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request: heyy could u maybe do a social media au where kylians girlfriend is like a medical student or smth, has that typical beauty and brains to her, and kylian is always posting abt her and her achivements always letting her know how proud of her he is and everyone just admiring them
faceclaim: lexie grey
ynusername
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KMbappeNews congratulations to Y/N, another medicine award and another win for women in the science’s world. kylian was there 🥺💗
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user1 kylian was smiling ALL THE TIME
user2 he was so proud of her :(
user3 SHE’S SO SMART
user4 it is so good to see young women winning such important awards
user5 worldwide famous football star with his smart doctor girlfriend
user6 kylian is having the best moment of his life
k.mbappe
Liked by ethanmbappe, antonelaroccuzzo, and 3.018.944 others
k.mbappe ta réaction quand tu as vu que tu avais gagné un autre prix est la plus belle chose que j'aie jamais vue. merci d'étudier et de travailler si dur pour améliorer la qualité de vie de nombreuses personnes. tu es la personne la plus étonnante que j'aie jamais vue, je t'aime infiniment. (your reaction when you saw that you won another award was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. thank you for studying and working so hard to improve the quality of life for many people. you are the most amazing person I have ever seen, I love you immeasurably.)
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ynusername thank you for you immeasurable support. love you!
user7 HER SMILE
user8 kylian is so in love lol
user9 they’re so cute omg
user10 she’s so adorable
user11 kylian’s support is so important :(
user12 @user11 fr, they are so so cute!!
ynusername has added to their story
ynusername
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ynusername extremely happy to have delivered my beautiful friend's baby, welcome to the world! thank you for believing in me, @marco_verratti92 and @jessicaaidi! the prettiest baby girl ever.
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k.mbappe this baby was born in the healthiest way because she had the best doctor in the world. ❤️ congratulations, friends. 👏🏻
ynusername @k.mbappe i love you!
antonelaroccuzzo so pretty 😍
marco_verratti92 thank you so much ❤️
jessicaaidi we are so happy, thank you for being part of this very special moment in our lives. 🥺💗
georginagio 🥹🥺❤️
ethanmbappe ❤️
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ynusername
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ynusername amazing night with friends 🫶🏻
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k.mbappe i’m so lucky
ynusername @k.mbappe naaaah i’m the lucky one
antonelaroccuzzo hermosísima 😍
ynusername @antonelaroccuzzo te extraño, amiga 😓
ethanmbappe miss you sis
ynusername @ethanmbappe let’s go out next saturday, miss you 💗
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ynusername
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ynusername psg’s all-time top scorer. 7️⃣💙 you were born to make history and i am very happy to be able to accompany you as you conquer the world with your talent. you deserve it. i love you! 🤍🫶🏻
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k.mbappe you and me forever, i can't put into words how much you help me everyday. thanks for everything and i love you! 💗
ynusername @k.mbappe 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
leomessi felicidades @k.mbappe por el récord!! 👏🏻
antonelaroccuzzo 😍😍😍
marco_verratti92 starboy!!!!
antogriezmann kyky de bondy ❤️❤️
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k.mbappe
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k.mbappe i’m beyond proud of this hardworking woman, thank you for everything. my partner in crime 🤍🫶🏻 i love you.
a/n: i've always imagined how it'd be like to be friends with these guys. their group must be so much fun to be with. comfort national team ): lmk if you want a part two with the rest of the brazil guys! hope u enjoy ⭐️
synopsis: headcanons of the seleção brasileira during the world cup 🏆
—
neymar
u and ney met for the first time at the brazil world cup
u had been a fan of his since his glory days in santos and his starting years in barcelona
through ney, u got to know the brazil legends
say ricardo kaká, say phil coutinho, say roberto firmino; say literally any brazil player, u have met them before
no one would dare to touch u because ur ney's friend
that's how powerful he is
he always offers to take u out with brazil during the international break
after training, ney insists u and the guys play a friendly game
u could pick out ur team and all, it's very cute (in my head)
he makes sure u get the best seats to watch the game
he invites u to squad dinner after every game brazil had under their campaign
overall, he's just a really amazing dude
it's a blast to get to hang out w him
richarlison
besides u and neymar, richarlison is the other dude ur attached at the hip w
u think he's the funniest guy you've ever met
and he thinks ur the prettiest girl he's ever known
u helped him dye his hair platinum blonde for the world cup
yep it was u
he gave u the shirt he wore on the very first match of brazil's campaign
and u wore that shirt every time brazil had to square up until their loss against croatia
i feel like richy is the kind to invite u to his hotel room so he could get a shit ton of room service
kinda weird. but it's actually kinda cute
he would make jokes solely bc he wants to hear ur laugh
if u don't laugh at his jokes, he literally dies inside
he's pretty overprotective
more overprotective than neymar, i'd say
he'd always have his arm around u
his height also intimidates a lot of people so it helps
he just overall cares so damn much about u
amazing guy
vinicius jr
vini's the kind to tolerate everyone's bs
he kinda just laughs at the squad's antics
trust me, the guys are all weird in their own ways
vini's the neutral guy
he's weird
but then again, he isn't
tbh w u, he's only weird when rodrygo's around
every time u would come visit him and rodrygo and eder, he brings along his nephew to the bernabéu
his nephew loooooves u
bc of vini, u have every real madrid kit u could think of
u have his, rodrygo's, eder's, even benzema's
awesome dude, he cares a lot about his friends
ur lucky to be friends w vini
lucas paquetá
okay i lied
u think lucas is the funniest guy in the seleção
don't tell richy
only u would tolerate his antics
every time one of the guys get paired up with lucas on the plane, they'd ask if they could switch w u
bc only u could match w his shenanigans
his wife n kids LOVE u
i cannot stress that enough
they see u as family
tia y/n
u love benício and filippo the same
but pippinho's ur favorite, ur not fooling anybody
richy joins u guys sometimes
he's the same amount of crazy, not to worry
u and lucas would brainstorm different dance celebrations
u were the mastermind behind his celebration after his goal against south korea
u and lucas would send each other tiktoks every day
whether it be dance related or just mad dumb shit
u appreciate having lucas in ur life
u have always wanted a best friend like him
and now that u do, u never want to let him go
antony
u and antony are very parent-like to one another
u both are around the same age
antony being a few months older than u
he wouldn't live it down
"eu sou mais velho que você, respeite os mais velhos, y/n" [i'm older than you, respect your elder, y/n]
"então você admite que está velho" [so you admit you're old]
u would joke w him ALL. THE. TIME.
"eu apoio todos os clubes, exceto o manchester united. porque você está nele" [i support all clubs except manchester united. bc you're in it]
"okay, agora isso é apenas maldade, y/n" [okay, now that's just mean, y/n]
all jokes aside, he'd go livid if anybody ever hurts you
absolutely hurt and angry at yesterdays game between Real Madrid and Valencia.
the racial abuse that Vini Jr has been receiving is disgusting and inhumane.
yesterday was my high school graduation and the news of the match came to me during my party after and dampened my mood.
La Liga has to take action about the matter of racism that is so rampant in the league and deal with it.
and it’s not just la liga. serie a and many other european leagues and fans are just as disgusting with their chants and taunts at our black players. it has to stop.
it’s almost every week and i don’t know how much of this we can take.
as a young black person, these things really take a toll on us mentality and emotionally and are incredibly damaging.
to all of the young black kids out there, whether they be athletes, performers, speakers or whatever, we stand with you, support you, and love you.
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You stand with your hands on your hips in front of your boyfriend in the kitchen. "Hm?" he hums, placing his phone on the counter and looking down at you. "Of all the shelves, Ky," you start. "Are you doing it on purpose?" The confusion is still etched between his eyebrows as you wait for a response.
"Cherie, what are you going on about?" he responds. "My training bag, I can't reach it..." you admit. Everything you needed for your gymnastics competition was set out but your duffle bag was nowhere to be found. Until you checked the highest shelf in the closet. Unreachable and only accessed by one other person.
“Ah, cmon then,” he replies and you both ascend to your shared bedroom. Kylian hasn't admitted it to you, but he secretly loves doing tasks like this for you. Your small stature makes top shelves practically foreign to you and you’re reliant on his height for help. As inconvenient as you think it is, Kylian doesn't see it that way, and he would spend every free moment helping you with the mundane task if it meant you needed him.
It feels good to be needed.
"Thank you, baby," you say, turning to place the empty bag on the bed and finishing up your packing. Kylian pulls on your wrist, forcing you to turn to him. He taps his lips, motioning for you to thank him with a kiss. Your balance is typically incredible, which is why it’s always a bit shocking when kissing Kylian makes you want to freefall because you know he'll catch you.
Balancing on the top of your toes you reach up and out to place a sweet kiss on his lips. Kylian takes this as an opportunity to lift you off your feet and deepen the kiss. A whisper of I love you is pressed to your lips as you step back to actually start packing.
A few hours later, you and Kylian are off to a national gymnastics competition. You’ve done this before but the nerves are ever-present. He pulls to a stop in front of the athlete's entrance and places a soft hand on your thigh. "Good luck, cherie," he smiles softly. "I know you can do it."
You place a hand on his cheek and gently stroke your thumb along his jaw. "Thank you, Ky," you reply, stepping out of the car and walking towards the entrance.
You were surrounded by other gymnasts who were stretching, putting the finishing touches on their hair & makeup, and marking out their routines. You did a once-over in the mirror and started your pre-competition rituals: steady your breathing, warm up your face for the large smile you needed, and whisper some words of encouragement to yourself.
The floor routines were only 90 seconds. You had 90 seconds to impress a panel of judges and hope to be remembered by your fellow competitors. You walk out to a pop song and do a bit of a strut before moving into a front handspring, a handful of leaps that all end in a solid landing. On your final move, a split leap followed by an aerial cartwheel, you land gracefully and straighten upward with your hands pressed to your side.
The eruption of claps forces you to exhale and relax your shoulders enough to walk off quickly but confidently. You raise your head to scan the crowd, a wide grin on your face, and see Kylian on his feet smiling right back at you.
When the judges announce the first-place winner and your name is called, everything stops. As soon as it is placed in your hand, you clutch the golden trophy for dear life. The feeling of everything you worked for paying off something you may never get used to. Kylian is standing out in the crowd, blowing kisses as you accept the award and you send a wave in his direction.
Now the hard part: navigating the crowded floor.
You see him before he sees you and race in his direction. When you stop right in front of him, Kylian uses his hand as a visor above his eyes and pretends to search for you in the distance. You laugh, waving your hands in the air, hoping the shine of your trophy is hard to miss.
"There you are! I was looking for you everywhere," Kylian jokes, finally looking down at you. He embraces you tightly and the side of your face presses into his chest, your ear level with his heartbeat. With his arm around your shoulders, you walk towards the changerooms.
“Be back in a minute, baby,” you say before walking into the change room and towards your locker.
When you return, Kylian is right where you left him but with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Your smile widens and he shoulders your bag as well. You kiss him sweetly as a thank you, your lips saying everything you wanted to. Thank you for being here, for being so supportive, for loving me while doing the things I love. You are each other's biggest supporter.
"I think we're running out of space on the trophy shelf," Kylian muses, earning a chuckle from both of you. "Could probably fit you on there if we tried hard enough."
What?" you asked, not realizing the joke. Then it dawned on you. You swat at his chest in a joking manner, "Kylian, you're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously right."
•••
a/n pt 2 cause i can't shut up: i really hope this fulfilled the request cause the incessant feeling of anxiety while writing this made me want to curl up i have severe perfectionism issues clearly
summary: slightly specific things i know think jude would do as my a boyfriend
a/n: win-win cause yall get a peek into the actual most delusional brain ever aka mine (confirmed by science) AND i can free up space in my head
• zoning out and staring at you constantly asks you about your day just to watch your lips move, cheek leaning on his hand
imagine ur explaining a situation that came up between your friend group and you ask "what should i do?" "kiss me." "huh?" "sorry repeat your question, got distracted..."
• competitive beyond belief by making everything a challenge "first one to the door has to take the trash out!" and he already started running???
• don't be fooled cause the minute you mimic him and beat him at a challenge he's like "didn't count, you rigged it, i let you win!" like please hold the L
• he secretly loves to coordinate outfits and is constantly buying you clothing items that are the exact same colour as a pair of his shoes, a bag that is the same brand as his sweater, etc.
• then he'll suggest you guys wear the paired items at the same time "wow, we're twinning!" "you literally pulled this out of my closet for me..." and he's taking a million pics together
• insists on pushing the grocery cart while shopping you give in to his demands cause the boy can't drive! give him the experience! also it's mostly an excuse to tuck you between him and the handle
• his privileges are revoked after he hits your ankles for the 100th time (sure he apologizes every time but goodness just be careful sir)
• he is the world's most wanted lip balm thief imagine you're kissing him when he comes home and literally pulling away with a confused face "are you wearing my lip balm???" "whaaat... m'not, i swear." "you taste like strawberries, jude."
• helping him unpack and he's been hoarding multiple tubes of chapstick his excuse is "tastes like you when you aren't with me!!!!" and having to check all his pants pockets before doing laundry
• lets you fall asleep in his arms and he’s basically unreachable during that time like he will minimize all distractions and noises until you wake up kisses your temple and hushes you back to sleep when you move
• sometimes he falls asleep with you and in those few hours the whole world wants to contact you both “pass me my phone, love.” “you have FIVE missed calls from your mom!” "well shit." "I HAVE FIVE MISSED CALLS FROM YOUR MOM?!"
• always curious about what you're doing re: skincare & makeup picking up your gua sha, serum bottles, toner... "what's all this for, love? do you actually need all of theses?" like "yes, jude." and explaining their purposes
• with makeup you just do a whole get ready with me demonstration for him and he just swatched random things like he’s in a sephora and giving you suggestions on what eyeshadow look to do, which lipstick colour (also imagine he notes down your fave products and restocks them randomly for you aAAhhh)
• hugs from behind except they range from cute, sleepy, romantic hugs in the morning to him creeping up behind you, lifting his shirt and trying to trap you in it
• tapping your hip as a greeting, when he's trying to slide by you, when you're standing next to or infront of him and when you ask him about it he says it grounds him "reminds me you're really here, really mine."
• constantly asks what would you do if i... questions and it's the most outrageous suggestion like "what if i made a mixtape" "what if i went skydiving" like ??? very imaginative boy
• that reminds me of you boyfriend that sends you random scenery pics, flowers at a stand, those rainbows in puddles... and eventually you ask him about it and he says "they're pretty, reminds me of you."
• absentmindedly shares his food with you sitting next to him while he eats a late dinner telling you about his day and although you’ve eaten earlier he just offers you a bite mid convo
• bonus points if it’s something he knows you really enjoy eating and he’ll just surrender the last bite to you
