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qitwrites · 3 years ago

Text

a numbers game

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Kiribaku

(AO3)

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

“So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

“Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks.

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?”

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie.

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

“Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.��

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”

Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

---

Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

---

dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

---

“So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

---

Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

“How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au???#if that's a thing??????#this one's a monster y'all

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me.

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes.

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name.

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him.

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed.

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him.

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer.

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes.

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee.

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking.

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee.

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion.

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply.

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker.

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do.

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned.

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere?

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions.

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious.

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing.

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk.

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has.

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually.

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face.

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out.

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue.

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see.

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection.

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey.

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work.

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while.

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open.

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here.

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go.

I should... but I don’t want to.

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind.

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas.

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him.

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar.

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time.

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide.

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day.

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over.

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides.

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan.

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch.

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it.

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater.

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap.

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over.

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him.

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy.

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet.

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it.

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him.

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit.

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half.

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car.

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building.

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside.

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today.

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss.

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader

#feyre #feysand #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #feyre archeron

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

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Cuppa Tea, Cuppa Tea

Request: The first request is that the reader kinda is yawning a bit, but "oh, it's fine, I'm just studying a bit harder" but they're either lying and doing a bunch of work deep into the night (maybe translating old books or something) or it's insomnia, or actually studying til 4:00am or something (lots of "ors" I'm so sorry) and of course spike finds out and is like "I'm supposed to be the nocturnal one??" And I had a brief thought of somehow the reader being tricked to drink sleepy time tea or something that will make them sleep as much as they need, but idk if that would be weird 🤔 but anyway, I hope that made sense ^^;

Pairing: Spike x gender neutral reader

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Y/N is at Spike’s studying for a chemistry exam when Spike starts to worry for them.

A/N: sorry for the delay!!! This was so easy to write because honestly it’s relatable. Enjoy X

Masterlist

The words on the page start to blend and nothing makes sense anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to process the words I'm staring at here. I have to pass this chemistry exam. I'm not even a chem major, stupid general education classes. I hear Spike move about behind me while his Passions episode comes to an end. Being one of the token full-fledge humans in the Scooby Gang means I'm sometimes dropped off at Spike's for safekeeping. Lately, there's a water demon terrorizing Sunnydale, so I've been instructed to come straight here after classes. Yet, Spike insists on meeting me right after the lecture. He went about finding out my course schedule so he can be thereafter my last class. Since I finish when the sun is still out, he has to use the tunnels on campus. He's the definition of smothering.

"Y/N, you need to go to bed," he advises, appearing beside the crypt I'm set upon.

My notes and textbook are laid perfectly on the crypt to study.

"Five more minutes," I yawn.

The candlelight is starting to radiate enough heat to feel it. They've been going all afternoon and well into the evening. Its light is starting to burn my eyes.

"You said that twenty minutes ago," Spike sighs, kneeling next to me.

"Oh bet, I thought it was only ten," I check my watch for the time.

Spike huffs in annoyance and snatches my textbook away.

"Hey!" I reach for the pages, but he moves it away.

"I'm so supposed to be the nocturnal one! Not you!" He reminds me with a fuss.

"Ever heard of insomnia?" I sass.

"It's not healthy," he preaches, setting my textbook down.

"Nor is being undead. That's a little pot calling the kettle black," I shrug while I reopen my book to the proper page.

"The more tired you get the more annoying you are," he grumbles, tossing his head back dramatically with a sigh.

"Dope," I nod with narrowed eyes.

"I hate you," Spike growls.

"Love to hear it," I mutter subconsciously as I continue reading.

"Ugh, oh my g-"

Absentmindedly, I read the chapter on proper chemical mixing. I can't even read the periodic table, how am I supposed to remember all of this?

I start to sing a familiar tune under my breath without much thought. "Oh say can you see by the dawn's-"

"Stop!" Suddenly, Spike's hand is covering my mouth. "Stop while you're ahead!"

"I was just getting started." My voice is muffled by his hand.

Spike slips his hand around and brings up the other to make me stare into his eyes.

"You're getting delusional!" He accuses.

"What's life without a little bad trip? Adds some spice," I dismiss carelessly.

"You're psychotic," he determines

"Says the serial killer," I shrug.

"You're! Losing! It!" He emphasizes.

"You! Eat! People!" I fire back mockingly.

"I need to so I can exist. You don't need to study to exist," he takes my textbook away again and strolls away.

"I need to so I can get a good job," I reason.

"Industrial America is overrated," he declares monotonously.

"You're also an old English man," I grumble.

"Yeah, so I know a few things," he smirks proudly.

"You never took school seriously?" I climb down from the crypt to fetch my book from him.

"Well... I went if that's what you mean. I had a rather expensive education," Spike describes vaguely.

I reach for my textbook and take it back civilly. "A White, upper-middle-class, during the Victorian Era, given a well-to-do private education? Well, color me shocked!"

"I can hardly stand you when you get in this mood. You need sleep," he rolls his eyes annoyedly.

"I hardly tolerate you every moment of every day. I need coffee," I correct.

"I will kill you," he threatens as per usual.

"Oh yes, bring me the sweet release," I grumble as I head back to my spot.

"You sicken me, you know that?" Spike questions sarcastically.

"Glad to hear it," I laugh humorlessly.

"Normally, people aren't so keen on being threatened," he reminds.

"Fair enough, granted I'm not 'normal,'" I form quotation marks with my fingers.

"Clearly," he mumbles.

"'Clearly,'" I mock his voice. "You even sound old!"

"I'm only one hundred and twenty-six!" He states, yet again, this week.

"Oh my goodness! You're right! My bad! You're practically a new spring chicken! Now get out there young one, and seize the day!" I tease.

"I'm going to make you a cup of tea," Spike declares, heading over to his make-shift kitchen. In reality, it's an electric kettle he plugs into an extension cord that's connected to somewhere outside.

"Coffee," I request, returning to my reading.

"Tea! You don't need any more coffee," he ridicules.

"You're depressing," I insult under my breath.

After a short time, Spike returns with a mug. I've managed to get through the last paragraph I've been struggling with.

"Here," he hands the white porcelain object to me.

The warmth of the mug contrasts the cold of my hands.

"What kind," I ask as I go to sip it.

"Green," he nods.

"Oo, so you are giving me caffeine," I wiggle my brows right as the liquid hits my lips.

"Only to shut you up," he sighs.

"Always the charmer," I wink.

After a moment of consideration and pondering, I can determine that this is good tea. Spike stands around waiting for my approval.

"This is nice, what brand is it?" I go in for another sip.

"An old one my mother used to use, been around for a while," he stammers.

"Lovely, thank you."

I compliment and he grumbles some response. ______________________ The sound of a distant lawnmower wakes me up in a jolt. I gasp for air, having been so deeply asleep that I hardly felt alive. I must've been more exhausted than I originally comprehended. My blurry vision adjusts to my surroundings and I'm tucked into a bed, but not my own. No, I know this bed. I've seen it before. The bright red sheets are hard to forget. Spike.

"What the-" I scream, "Spike!"

The bleach blonde vampy appears from behind a pillar across the room.

"Yes, Pet?" He says slyly, as though it's just any other morning.

"You asshole!" I curse at him as I hurry to get up.

"Feel refreshed?" He smirks.

"Did you drug me?" I come to the realization as I stand up that I don't remember falling asleep or getting into Spike's bed.

"Eh, somewhat," he explains vaguely. "I gave you camomile tea and maybe crushed up some melatonin in it."

My jaw drops, "you're insane!"

"Knocked you out like a bloody babe," he snickers, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"What time is it?!" I shake my wrist to my watch.

"Noon," Spike answers before I have the chance to check.

My eyes go wide as the harsh reality that I'm late to my class sinks in.

"Shit! Shit!" I rush to gather my things. "Fuck me! I have my test in thirty minutes!"

Spike strolls about casually around me, not giving two shits.

"You'll be fine," he assures calmly. "The sleep will help."

"It better!" I growl at the vamp.

"I'll pick you up after your class. We'll get coffee," he suggests with a smug expression.

"You don't drink coffee," I glare as I pack up my backpack.

"Damn straight, but you do. My treat," he offers.

"Oh, so kind!" I remark sarcastically as I struggle to slip my arms through my backpack and get my shoes on at the same time.

"Have fun!" He waves as I head to the door. "Good luck!"

"Fuck you!" I bid farewell as I slam the tomb door behind me.

"Coffee!" He shouts from inside as I stroll away. "Four o'clock! I'll pick you up!"

"Okay! Fine! Fine!" I yell in agreement, despite everything that just happened.

God, I hate to love him.

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mx-pibbles

#spuffy #spike x buffy #spike fanfic #spikexreader #spike #buffy summers #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagine

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lululawrence · 3 years ago

Text

Wordplay 5.0 Reflections

I dunno what else to call it lmao it doesn't sound right to call this a meme, but whatever it is, here we are! lol @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed came up with these questions after @wordplayfics wrapped up last year and I love them so i'm gonna use them for this year as well.

I'm going to start out with listing the prompts and linking the fics i wrote for each one for everyone's reference, though I'll be linking them again through the answers as well. I'm also putting all the questions and answers beneath a read more because, as usual, I rambled lmao Alright! Here we go!

Struggle: I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right Reduce: I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) Divide: He Carries The Key Rise: Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy Sketch: I Heard You Talking

How did you come up with your ideas for the fics? Can you take us through your process after first receiving the prompt?

I don't know that I have a set way I come up with my fic ideas for Wordplay. It all depends on the prompt and what fic ideas I've got on my "to write list" that might fit that prompt. If nothing on my to write list fits or can be tweaked for a prompt, then I just go through my prompts tag until something strikes me for it, or I just ruminate on the different ways the word can be used and see if something comes up.

So, when I did the random word generator for the first prompt and "struggle" was the word that came up, I immediately thought of "struggle bus". lolllll and when I went looking through my to write list, I saw the girl Payneshaw fic I wanted to write and I was like omgggggg Nick ABSOLUTELY is riding the struggle bus the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME and I knew that was my fic for the week. lmaoooo and there you have it.

What is your favorite fic you wrote for Wordplay this year?

oooohhhh this one is HARD AND MEAN lmaoooo i forgot this was a question asked. okay legitimately i cannot choose a favorite because i'm actually stupidly proud and happy with all of the fics i wrote this year.

If you’ve participated in previous years of Wordplay, what has been your favorite prompt from all years you participated in?

WELP. as the creator of this challenge, i've participated in all 5 years which means there've been 25 prompts i've written. lolllll and honestly i think my favorite prompt is STILL from the first year. it was "bloodsucker". like, how great of a prompt is that???

What was the shortest fic you wrote this year? The longest?

the shortest one this year was... I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right at 4381 words.

the longest one was... I Heard You Talking at 10580 words.

What fic of yours surprised you?

i think all of them surprised me in some way. that's part of the joy of writing fics, isn't it? lollll but i think the one that surprised me the most was Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy. it was a last minute change (i'll elaborate in the answer to the next question haha) and it was a VERY different direction than i had planned. it was all based off of a photo i saw on tumblr, and there was no prompt with the photo. i got to just take in the basic idea of the sticker being placed on a bridge overlooking the city and what might make that spot a good kissing spot.

now, as an ace who doesn't actually ENJOY kissing, i... didn't think about the fact that i would be writing a lot of it. lollll i actually have a super hard time writing kisses and trying to make them varied while also relaying the emotional intimacy of the moment, and then add on top of that the fact that once i started writing the fic, both harry and louis let me know pretty much as soon as words started getting written that they were both genderqueer and that worked differently for each of them, so harry would use they/them pronouns and louis would use he/him still, it just made things more interesting. and the way the fic developed??? like, i had a very vague idea of what would happen in the fic. so the way it actually came about all surprised me.

long answer short, from the very start, this fic surprised me and i was just along for the ride. it was a BLAST and i sure do love it, even if it does have the second lowest hits of all the fics i wrote this year haha

Were there any prompts you struggled to find an idea for?

STRUGGLED HAHAHA sorry. just funny since struggle was a prompt this year. ANYWAY. the prompt i had the hardest time with was defo rise. i've had this fic idea ever since greg james tweeted with shawn mendes months ago about how shawn basically forgot his interview with greg on the breakfast show, so greg had to last minute wing a LOT OF AIR TIME AND SHOW CONTENT and he did a great job, but it brought about some funny content... anyway. that made me wanna write a triad a/b/o fic where greg is louis and harry's beta. rise was going to be used in a lot of different ways through the fic, as well. because breakfast show requires greg to rise from bed early, he gets a rise out of harry and louis with his behavior and overt flirtations with shawn, they have to rise above their jealousy, etc etc etc. i was VERY EXCITED.

except i only had three days i was able to write every week this summer, and those were really really difficult to get. if i wanted to write on tuesday or thursday, i was often curling up with my laptop in a dark room with some caffeine and candles burning to soothe me after the insanity that is my life atm, and write for as long as i could before my brain stopped functioning, which was often only around 30 min. but see, that particularly week was the worst part of my son's 18 month sleep regression, which meant instead of him sleeping and letting me write, i was driving him around or trying to rock him back to sleep or letting him play in an attempt to tire him out etc etc etc and by friday morning i had to admit to myself there was no way i could write that a/b/o fic in my one guaranteed evening to write every week (saturday, btw). so i was suddenly left with around 36 hours to find a new fic idea and develop it enough to be able to write it in one evening.

as i said in the answer to the first question, i usually go to my prompts tag to see what might inspire me with this prompt word in mind, but for this one that wasn't the first place i went. i tried looking at more definitions even though i'd done that earlier and nothing was inspiring me. so i then spoke to several friends and was still having a hard time finding any ideas that felt like something i would enjoy writing and could do so quickly.

by saturday morning, knowing i had less than 12 hours to figure out what i was writing so i could actually WRITE IT in only like 2-3 hours of writing time, i finally sat down and scrolled through my prompts tag. once i did, i saw the photo for the "good kissing spot", and i immediately thought of sunrise. so i ran with it. but i wanted to make it stylinshaw, so how would i work that in, etc etc etc. it was just very fast and very difficult trying to figure out how i would structure it so it could be a fun meet cute kind of fic, but also work into them actually building a meaningful connection etc and... well. it was a lot. haha so yeah, it was just a hard time overall that week, but i'm super proud of it in the end.

Were there any prompts you had an idea for but ended up writing something different? If so, what made you choose to change what you wrote? Do you think you’ll ever write your original idea at a later date?

HA okay well i already answered most of this above, but for the last part of this question, yes i will absolutely write my original idea at a later date. the whole reason i decided not to do it wasn't because i couldn't turn it into a fic that could be written in that one writing session, but because i had hopes for what that fic would be, and i didn't want to shorten and condense it enough to do that. i didn't want to have to lessen the dreams i have for that fic in my head, so i decided i would just put it back on my to write list and save it for later. who knows when, but that fic will absolutely get written.

What do you think was the most difficult as well as the easiest part about the Wordplay Challenge?

most difficult was 100% finding the time to write. that was insanely hard for me all summer, but by the time wordplay was going, things at home had ramped up to being very overwhelming regarding the demands on me and my time, and what i had been doing to carve out some time for myself and writing wasn't working anymore, so i had to adjust even more with the understanding that i was working on a really strict timeline too. so yeah. just finding the time was absolutely the hardest part for me.

easiest part was the actual writing. these fics really flowed from me, outside of the pack fic, that one was actually pretty difficult to make sure i was getting the dynamics exactly the way i wanted to have them turn out, but even with that aspect, it still was like it flowed from me most of the time. these fics really just took over and i was along for the ride. it was a blast.

If you participate again next year, is there anything you’ll do differently? If so, what?

lmao well assuming people still want wordplay to happen again, i'll run it again and very likely will take part. so... with the difficulty i had in finding any time to do anything this summer, i was actually ridiculously stressed when it came to the writing part, but also the modding aspect of it. so i am not sure that i'll run it during the summer again next year. i might have it go during the early fall once school is back in session so i at least have only one child at home instead of three to battle lol so that's one thing i'll hopefully be doing differently.

as for the writing aspect, i don't think so actually. i've done 5 years of this, and i'm having fun with it. haha if i ever find a fic idea i think could work for it, i would consider doing a series for it next year, but it all depends on if there's something i'd like to write that could work for that kind of set up with this challenge.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading!!! xxx

#wordplay 5.0 #writing stuff #my fics #mine

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fandomlovingfreak · 4 years ago

Text

Mrs. Weasley, Dear (10/?)

George Weasley/Reader

Sequel to You Can’t Marry A Malfoy

Word Count: 1598

Rating: E for everyone ( trigger: pregnancy )

MasterList Link I AO3 Link

Summary: After their whirlwind romance, including a Pureblood Marriage Contract with a special clause, confessions of love from both, and a quick wedding, everything seems right in their world. Domestic life seems like it was meant for them.

Notes: We could be possibly nearing the end of this series (i’ll estimate 3-5 more chapters)! Which is sad, but all good things must end eventually! I’m excited to see where my Charlie Weasley series goes, but don’t worry! I’ll have more George and even more Fred content in the near future!

Enjoy

"Do you need help?" (y/n) is currently reaching for something on the top shelf of the cabinet, her pregnant stomach making the endeavor more difficult than normal.

I hear her sigh deeply before turning towards me, "Could you get me that mug?"

Chuckling, I reach over her shoulder to snatch up the violet mug she wanted. "Here you go, darling."

(y/n) frowns, taking the ceramic from me, "thanks." She sets it down on the countertop, "I'm sort of sick of suddenly being unable to reach for things."

"Luckily, you have me." Not only am I taller than my wife, but I was able to get my body within seven inches of the countertops. I joked about it once last week and caused her to tear up, so I won't be doing that again, but it was still sort of funny. Usually, (y/n) was always a good sport with his lighthearted teasing, but he's found out pregnancy hormones and joking sometimes do not mix well. Especially the random burst of irrational anger after he made a joke about how her sweater not fitting right, and she threw a shoe at his head. It missed, but she's bound to hit her target one of these times if he's not a little bit more careful about what he teases her about.

"I would rather be able to do it alone," she pouts, sitting down at the kitchen table. The caffeine-free tea sits in front of her in the violet mug, steam steadily rising from the rim.

"Soon enough." Three-ish months to be somewhat exact, which is insane. Time goes by so fast it feels like these days.

"Not soon enough," she takes a sip of her beverage. George admires her, the frown lines between her eyebrows, the way she refused to do anything with her hair this morning. The mornings were always spent with only him, and she knew untidy hair and all he loved her. Why put effort into something silly like made-up hair when she felt tired constantly. He rather (y/n) was comfortable than made-up. Plus, she was adorable in his oversized sweater.

"Mum wanted to know if we've chosen a name," he tries to steer her in another direction to take her mind off of her annoyance.

"What did you say?" She asks, already fully knowing what he told his mum.

"I said no." So much for steering the conversation.

"Was she disappointed? It's not like we haven't thought about it, but I want the gender to be a surprise. Something fun in the moment after--well, everything." (y/n) rambles on nervously. She hates the idea of pain in any amount. She has disclosed this with me multiple times in the past months. Assuring her I'd be there, right beside her the entire time, could only do so much to quell her anxiety, but I honestly don't know what else to do. It kills me to see her frightened.

"I know, dear. She just wanted to get a head start on the kid's sweater. You know how mum is."

(y/n) rolls her eyes fondly, "your mum and her sweaters..."

"Gotta pass on the tradition to the next generation." He grins at his wife, "do you need anything else before I head out?"

She taps the side of her mug with her fingernail, "Could you pick me up some of those blueberry muffins from that shop in Diagon Alley before you come home, please? The ones with the sugar on top."

George rolls his eyes, "I meant anything right now, but yes. I'll get your muffins."

"Thank you, darling." I lean down so she can kiss my cheek.

"I'll be back around five-thirty." I shrug on my coat.

"Sounds good."

I apparate to the Hogsmeade location, set on stocking up the shelves before students come into the store this weekend. McGonagall had only sent me a few messages about what the Hogwarts students were up to with Wizard Wheezes products this year. With the shop moving into Hogsmeade, the mischief had only increased. McGonagall tried to sound annoyed when she wrote, but I know she thought it was just a tad bit funny. I had to hand it to these kids; they were creative with the products I provided them with. The letter had made me proud, honestly. Fred would've loved to know we're still creating chaos years after 'graduating' from school.

***

I finish up the inventory and balancing the books around four, letting my new employee, Carina go home early. She's proven to be a great asset to the team so far. She was a year younger than Ron and had been in Hufflepuff. Real nice girl who knew nearly everything about each product and could sell each item just as well.

Locking up the door, I apparate to Diagon Alley to take a quick peek into what Ron's doing and to, of course, get my wife the muffins she requested.

"How's it going?" I ask when I walk into the original shop.

Ron looks up from where he's talking to a young wizard.

"Good. Why are you here?" Ron asks, excusing himself from the customer.

I pull a face, "can't I check in on my own store, Ronald?"

Ron rolls his eyes, "Yes, but you rarely do these days."

"Yes, the Hogsmeade location is doing well; thank you for asking."

"That's good. I'm sure McGonagall has complained."

"Multiple times, dear brother. But, that's the purpose of this lovely establishment. Causing chaos."

"All I care about is that the testing is no longer done on me."

I put on a mischievous grin, "I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

Ron's eyes widen comically, "have you been slipping me stuff recently?"

"Remember when you fell asleep in your soup two weeks ago, and Hermione convinced you that you were just tired?"

"You poisoned me!"

I roll my eyes, "I was testing a product. I'm practically lining your pockets, Ronald."

He mutters something under his breath, "Can't you test your products on yourself, perhaps?"

"I have a child on the way," I cross my arms, "you don't understand the stresses of having a pregnant wife and child on the way. Besides, the woman tried to take my head off last week for making a joke about her sweater. I'm already in mortal danger with (y/n) around."

"Hopefully, next time, she'll hit her target."

"You wound me, Ronald," I grin, "anyways, if the shops all good, I have to be off. The wife needs those muffins from that place down the street."

"Armadill Confections. They close at four-thirty. You ought to head out to catch them before they close up or (y/n) probably will finish the job."

"Ha-ha. I'll see you soon, Won-Won." I snicker when he rolls his eyes at the nickname.

I catch the witch working at Aramdill's right before she starts closing up the bakery. "Hi, Sorry! By chance, do you still have any of those blueberry muffins with the sugar stuff on top? I promised I'd get my pregnant wife some--"

The witch is maybe around my mum's age with slightly greying hair and kind green eyes. She chuckles, "of course, dear. I have four leftover from today. I can wrap them up for you if you'd like?"

"Yes, please. How much do I owe you?"

"It's in the house. I have a daughter who is pregnant currently, and she loves these muffins."

I chuckle, "I can't just take them for free. I'll be back probably in the next week anyway."

"I insist. I know how it feels to crave something specifically. And like you said, you'll be back again. Please, I insist."

He feels grateful that someone would be so kind, but really, he can pay! "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. Next time you come in, bring your wife in. I would love for her to try some of the other things I have."

"Well, thank you. She's going to be thrilled to get an offer to try some of your other stuff. She raves about these muffins in particular." I grin. (y/n)'s going to be tickled that the shop owner wants her to come in, "I'm George Weasley by the way."

"You don't say!" The witch looks surprised, "I went to school with your parents. You look a lot like your mother's brothers."

"Mum thinks so too. Well, thank you again. Have a good night."

***

"(y/n)," I yell when I walk through the door. Setting down the brown box on the countertop, I shrug off my coat.

"Hello," (y/n) stands on her tippytoes to press a kiss to my cheek. "You got the muffins!" She opens the little pastry box, taking one of the large blueberry muffins out.

"The shop owner wants you to come in whenever you want more muffins. I guess her daughter is pregnant too, and she has some ideas on what else you might like."

"Oh?" (y/n) asks in between bites, "that's nice. That'll probably be two days from now, honestly. I can't get enough of this woman's baking. It's so good."

"Lemme have a bite," I give her my best puppy eyes.

"Fine," she hands me the last bite of the muffin.

Popping the last bit of muffin into my mouth, I chew appreciatively. "Merlin's Beard...that's quite possibly the best thing I've ever eaten."

"Right?" (y/n) nods, "I got it in my head that I needed them like last week. You have no idea how satisfied I feel right now."

I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, "I'm sure, darling, I can't understand."

Taglist: @paigeyisme

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 5 years ago

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feels like we're dreaming, we're tripping and reeling

summary: requested: andy barber being obsessed with the thought of reader being pregnant and wanting nothing more than to be a dad. being the most doting, caring man throughout the whole pregnancy, rubbing reader's feet and going out to get all her cravings and rubbing her stomach constantly. crying when he feels the baby kick. painting the whole nursery himself and spoiling the hell out of their little bundle when it arrives. andy barber being domestic and soft as hell in general gets me so weak.

warnings: some smut. pool smut. not the same pool bc that was a public pool but it needed to happen so. andy being cute, as cute as i’m sure he was when his wife was pregnant. (my proof: that smile every time someone asks him if he’s jacob’s dad)

word count: almost 10,000. honestly, i was going to keep going but jesus 10,000?!

pairing: andy barber x reader

How many brands of pregnancy tests existed in this world?

Honestly, beyond 5, what the fuck was the point? They measured the same shit, did they not? You didn’t care enough to find out, but during the period of painful silence, you thought about googling the answer.

You were in the tub, wrapped up in one of Andy’s hoodies, just watching him. He was at the counter, looking at the timer. He’d gone out to pick up the tests for what you guys had decided would be your new routine.

You’d always had sex a lot, but lately, Andy didn’t want to go a night without. Not because he was under the impression that would be a more effective method, he just literally could not keep his hands off you anymore. He asked you that morning if you wanted to make Friday night the test night. It made sense, he had his weekends off and that meant he could skulk around the house if it didn’t happen.

Most tests took 2 to 3 minutes. Some took 15 for whatever fucking reason. He wanted to wait for all of them, so for a quarter of an hour, you were just stuck there. Waiting. With him. Which shouldn’t have been so stressful, but it was.

The day you told him you wanted to try for a baby, he didn’t let you out of bed. Even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen for a while since you needed to finish your last week and a half of birth control. He had just been so happy, any attempts made to hide his obsession with you getting pregnant were tossed out the window immediately.

He’d thought about it before you, he’d wanted it before you, but hearing that you finally wanted it too just triggered something. He bought parenting books because he figured during your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have that much time to read. He bought this huge ass book of names and after he fucked you, he liked to bring it out and try to talk you into names he wanted while you were in such a blissful state.

Every second of trying had made you fall in love with him more. Yes, you wanted kids, but honestly, babies didn’t much appeal to you. You understood that to get to kids, you had to deal with the babies and you were okay with that, but mainly, you wanted to make Andy a father. You knew he would be good at it, possibly the best in the world.

And even with all the wanting, he never put pressure on you. The morning you told him you were done with the birth control, he sat you down and had the longest talk with you just to make sure that he hadn’t done anything to make you think he was losing patience with you. He wanted a baby, but he needed a happy wife. He didn’t want any part of something that you weren’t completely on board with.

But with wanting to try, you needed to make some changes. You were always fairly active since Andy had his busy days and you didn’t like just sitting and doing nothing while you waited for him to get home. With trying to conceive, your workouts had to be a little more basic. Longer, but less intense runs, some yoga. Andy had read that cardio was important, you thought up swimming. The very next day, he was already making plans to expand the house and add an indoor swimming pool. When you gave him a look, he pointed out that the kids would love it when they were old enough to swim. How could you possibly say no?

Caffeine was next on the chopping block. Andy, the sweetheart that he was, knew how much you loved coffee and tried his hardest to cut it out as well. He wanted to show you that you weren’t in this alone. It was your body, yes, but he would make sacrifices, too. The first time you caught him falling asleep at the dinner table, you had to tell him to end his noble support. With a job like his, he needed his coffee. The compromise was that he wouldn’t drink it in your presence.

He also did insane amounts of research. Even after you stopped the pill, he insisted on using condoms for a month after so you could start getting some folic acid before ending up pregnant. That was quite the sacrifice. One of your favorite things on this planet was when he finished inside you. Not a fucking condom. But you were trying this thing where you didn’t express negativity because with Andy as your husband, there was no way not to feel like a brat. How was someone so perfect?

Your period hadn’t returned yet but that didn’t mean you were incapable of getting pregnant. Hence the random, shot-in-the-dark pregnancy test Friday plan. You didn’t feel pregnant and you knew that was stupid. Some didn’t know they were pregnant until they were giving birth. And you’d never been pregnant before, so how would you know what to look for? You just couldn’t stop thinking about how you didn’t feel it. You also didn’t want to tell Andy because you hoped you were wrong.

It had been a week short of two months without the pill and three weeks since he stopped wearing condoms. The chances of it just falling into place were slim—you didn’t have research to back that up, just some deeply-rooted cynicism. Maybe it was your defense mechanism, act like you saw it coming and you wouldn’t be disappointed. Right?

Wrong, which you discovered when you saw Andy’s face after he turned over one of the tests. You wouldn’t cry because it had been a total of 5 seconds and some people had to try much longer, and you didn’t want him to have to put aside his feelings to then console you. You did, however, want to cry.

“We should see a doctor,” you said.

He scoffed. “We haven’t really been trying that long.”

“But we can, why not?”

He finally turned to you, forcing his expression into something that didn’t break your heart just to see. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Andy, I told you that I’m ready.”

“I know, and trust me, there’s nothing that I want more. I just also think there’s still some romance in being old fashioned and just letting it happen.”

“Google is your new best friend, Andy. Why not consult an actual professional?”

“We can, if you want, but like I said, it hasn’t been that long. Besides, until you start your period again, it’s probably just a waiting game. Not always, but it can be. We should be realistic about this. I don’t want to waste a visit down to the doctor just so they can tell us what my new best friend already has.”

“Okay,” you shrugged, “if that’s what you want—”

“None of that. What do you want?”

“I want to be the mother of your children.”

He sighed, crouching down to your side. “You will be.”

“You don’t know that—”

“No, I do,” he insisted. “Because I’m not going to stop fucking you. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go see a doctor. If there’s a problem, we will fix it. If we can’t, we will adopt. Are we clear? There is no way, Mrs. Barber, that you will not be the mother of my children one day. And because I damn well know that I deserve it, I will have the great honor of being the father of your children.”

You sighed and melted, but you hoped that much wasn’t apparent. “You’re so lame.”

He smirked. “Wanna get out of that tub so we can have sex?”

“Why can’t we have sex in the tub?”

“Do you want to?”

“Maybe, but no water.”

“Okay, that’s weird.”

You shrugged. “Fine, I’ll get out of the tub.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He went to stand up but you caught his arm before he could. He took one look at you and was already shaking his head. “Don’t even say it—”

“I am, though.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Ever.”

“I feel bad.”

“You shouldn’t. It could be me. It could be nothing. Baby, it is too soon to start worrying about anything. Avoid stress, that is what you need to be doing.”

He could say it a million different ways, you were still sorry.

It was troubling how excited you were to get your period back. Honestly, when the birth control had finally taken it away, you cried. Tears of joy. To have the same reaction over getting it back felt weird.

Andy also seemed excited until you outlined just how inconvenient the whole thing was. Okay, that was being negative, but you were kind of in a bad mood. Something he was not at all bothered by. Because of course. He hadn’t been bothered by a single thing since you told him you wanted to start trying.

Officially, four months into wanting a baby and the only thing keeping you holding on was your beautiful, loving husband. He always knew when you were feeling down, so he would talk about the future and how nice it would be when you could finally take the kids out on family trips. How great taking them to school would be. All the fun things you would get them into, dance, sports, anything that you both could go and support. You were completely lost on how he was so positive all the time.

You needed to keep going, though. Like he said, you guys had options. It was better to know sooner rather than later, so you pushed forward. Sadly, your periods were irregular so you would probably ovulate irregularly. And you weren’t even aware of when you were ovulating because Andy still wanted this to be “natural”.

The second Friday with negative results was clearly taxing on both of you. He decided to end it immediately. That was why you had taken to sneaking pregnancy tests any chance you got. You didn’t like not telling him but you always felt like a failure every time it came back negative. But life went on, that much he made sure of.

The pool was finished and he seemed to like it more than you did. In fact, your liking it extended only as far as getting to see him wet and shirtless. But you were still in there 4 to 5 times a week for 30 minutes after you got home from work on weekdays and early on weekends. Because you did everything you were supposed to do. Because you didn’t want to feel like this was your fault, like there was something you were doing that would prevent this.

He came in one Saturday morning just as you were getting out. “Done?”

“Yeah, I served my time,” you joked. “I should get started on lunch. Any requests?”

“No, whatever sounds good to you.”

You went inside, fully intending to make lunch. But something that just didn’t make sense was how much you craved sex with Andy. It seemed like the more you had, the more you wanted. You guys were always sexual. At the start, after a month or so, every date ended with sex. When you moved in with him, it was more nights than not, even after you got married. But this was every day, numerous times a day.

He was turned on by the idea of getting you pregnant. He was insatiable for that reason. Sex this often wasn’t normal and it probably wasn’t raising your chances of conceiving since you weren’t being too methodical about it, but you were thrilled with this change. You worried about how much sex you would have once you were pregnant anyway, you figured you should start preparing for the long months ahead.

You were only in the kitchen for three minutes, trying to find food that would interest you more than what was currently on your mind. It didn’t work.

You returned to Andy. He was swimming his laps, completely oblivious. You stripped out of your bathing suit where you stood at the edge of the pool. He only made it three more times back and forth before he must have sensed you there.

He turned up, brushing his wet hair out of his face. When he saw you naked, his eyes widened. “Here? Now?”

“Well, unless you want me to wait for you to finish. I could just sit and watch, take care of myself until you can.”

“Here,” he decided. “Now.”

You smirked, sauntering off to the right where the stairs were. He made his way to you just before you descended the last step. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you took your cue to jump up and wrap yourself around him.

He carried you further into the water, lips moving against yours. You clung to his shoulders and your legs locked around his hips. “You are wild and demanding,” he accused.

You scoffed. “Me?”

He pretended to think about it. “Well, I guess it was me who stopped dinner last night, me who couldn’t wait until we left the grocery store, me who had you pull over while we were driving a few days ago, and me who came in here naked—oh, wait—“

You laughed. “Well, I’m just trying to prepare myself for when we’re hardly doing this anymore.”

“When we retire?”

You snorted. “No. You know, when I’m pregnant.”

He scoffed, pressing you against the side of the pool. You felt a hand moving between you, working his shorts out of the way. “You think I’m not going to fuck you when you’re pregnant?”

“Well...I assumed, yeah.”

He nudged your chin with his nose until you tilted your head back, offering him your neck. He kissed you softly as he indelicately pushed into you.

You clutched at his shoulders harder, whining his name.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to be able to refrain from touching you. Especially while you’re pregnant.”

You angled your head so you could see his face. He looked downright amused at what you were saying.

The pace and pressure of his hips immediately became punishing. He held you tight, hands on your hips as he fucked you. “You don’t even know how hard I get thinking about you carrying my child.”

Maybe it was what he was saying, maybe it was that you had wanted him inside you since you woke up, but it wasn’t taking long to get you there. You brought one hand up to the edge of the pool for a little more support.

Andy began kissing your neck and nipping at your chest. “I think about how beautiful you’re going to look, I think about how I’m going to have you riding me every day.”

You could picture that. Fuck. You were rarely on top now because you loved being underneath him and he loved pinning you down to the mattress, but when you got bigger, you would have to adapt. It didn’t sound as boring as you’d had yourself convinced it was when he said it.

“Every morning before I go to work, I’ll wake you up with my mouth between your legs.”

You let out a shaky breath. “What’s stopping you from doing that now?”

“You,” he promised. “I can barely open my eyes before you’re telling me to get inside you. You’ll be slower when you’re pregnant, less of a predator, more of a prey.”

You scoffed but it became a moan. If he kept talking like this, you were going to come soon.

“Some women are more sensitive when they’re pregnant,” he asserted. “I bet you will be. You’re already so sensitive. I’m going to spend every weekend fucking you until you’re begging me to stop.”

“Andy.” You turned your head toward him and he kissed you. You whimpered when you felt his hand at your cunt, fingers pressing against your clit so gently.

You finished first but he was close behind, turning his head down to groan into your shoulder.

He rode out his high slowly, kissing any part of your skin that was in his reach. He lifted you out of the water, onto the tiled floor surrounding the pool. He kissed both of your knees, then your calves, all while keeping his eyes on you. “Sound like a plan?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “Really, I should make lunch.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You headed out, back to the kitchen.

“You’re not getting dressed?”

“Nope.”

Four months, one week, and six days later, you were pregnant. You’d felt weird, it was 3 in the morning, Andy was asleep, and you knew you weren’t going to be able to rest until you found out.

Technically, you hadn’t missed your period yet. Sometimes you started on the 17th, others the 22nd through the 24th. Oh, but there was also the wonderful time you had started on the 5th. That time, you did cry. He might have too, but never in front of you because he was trying to be the most positive man on earth.

You only took two tests, the ones with the least amount of wait time. The results came back positive and for a moment, you just sat there. You had been terrified that it wasn’t going to happen. You worried about how much that would hurt Andy. You also stupidly worried about the possibility that he would leave you over it.

But that didn’t matter anymore. You were pregnant and he was going to be thrilled. After being a little annoyed that you took the test without him, you assumed.

You weren’t sure how to tell him. When to tell him. It was 3 in the morning and he had to work. Maybe after he got home. If you told him when he woke up, he was just going to want to stay home.

Logically, you knew false positives were not the same as false negatives. But it was just like when you were in junior high and you didn’t get your period so you were convinced you were pregnant even though you were very much not having sex. Yes, you were paranoid but you just wanted to be sure. The only thing worse than not getting pregnant would be getting Andy’s hopes up.

You waited until he was at work and then made an appointment. This would also annoy him because he wanted to do extensive research when selecting a doctor. You weren’t robbing him of that, you just wanted to have confirmation. The second you did, you would tell him and start looking at doctors.

You had it scheduled four days out, Thursday. You could get in on your lunch hour. It was odd going and explaining to the nurse your thought process and why you couldn’t schedule a follow-up appointment after the confirmation. She must have thought you were an idiot, you possibly were, but you were a happy idiot.

That night, when Andy arrived home, you were waiting on the couch for him. Once again, unclothed. You’d gotten quite used to being nude, having him undress you every time either of you wanted sex was just ridiculous. There wasn’t a word said as he laid over you on the couch, not bothering to get undressed. He just moved his pants and then he was inside you.

He didn’t move at first, instead, he rubbed your clit until you finished around him.

You draped a leg over his ass. “Andy, fuck me.”

“Not yet, baby.” His fingers circled over your clit again, his eyes fixed on yours and wanting to see pleasure on your face. He was in a mood and that meant the sex was going to be exhausting. Worth it, but very unlike the easy and quick routines you’d gotten used to in all of the chaos of trying to get pregnant.

When he would join you in the shower because usually, you woke up earlier than him even though you went to work later, he would wrap his arms around you all sweet then shove you against the wall and make you come with him. When he would find you making dinner and fuck you over the counter. When you were up later than he wanted so he would just fuck you wherever you were until you were so exhausted that he had to carry you upstairs. No other married people had as much sex as you guys, you were almost certain.

You’d made a complete mess of his pants but he didn’t seem concerned about them. He sat up and set you on his lap, holding you in place as he thrust his hips up. There was always something amazing about sex with him still in his suit. It wasn’t like his clothing left much to the imagination anyway, you could see and feel the muscles in his arms and chest.

He continued fucking you until he was close, then he settled you flat against him and used his fingers to make you come again and again. Until he was sure he had come down enough from his almost-finish. Feeling your pussy move around him, the way you would tighten when you orgasmed, the way you continued to get wetter and wetter, he was addicted.

You grabbed his free hand and placed it on one of your breasts and he closed his mouth around the opposite. Again, he held you up so he had enough room to drive his cock into you, hard and deep, and so painfully slow. It must not have been the best day. He loved being in absolute control of you when he couldn’t be at work.

Once more, just as he was about to finish, and you could tell because his hands would tighten and his hips would start to stutter, he sat you on his lap.

You curled your hand under his jaw, pulling him from your breast up to your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, all tongue and desperate moans from both of you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he directed as he pulled away.

Your fingers instantly dropped to your clit and you began drawing yourself toward another end. He wouldn’t let you stop, not after the first, the second, the third. Your hand was shaking, you were shaking, he had to hold you by the shoulders otherwise you would have fallen back. The entire time, he remained buried in your cunt, hard and not doing a damn thing about it. He was using you to edge himself and that made you impossibly wet.

He repeated this, more times than you could count. He didn’t say a word either, just led your hand down to your clit or used his own when he knew you couldn’t. Sometimes the sex was like this, he was working through something and he didn’t want to talk at first. It was about proving to himself that he had enviable control, and he definitely did because it wasn’t like you made it easy for him.

When he laid you down on the coffee table, he began pounding into you. You could tell when he was almost there because he was getting louder, grunting into your skin, or groaning as he bit down on your shoulder, your breast, your neck.

He pulled out before then and you felt inclined to put a stop to this madness.

“Andy.”

His hand made its way back to your pussy as he stroked his cock with his opposite. Moments later, he was spilling out onto your skin. As he continued fucking you with his fingers, you ran your hands over your stomach, spreading his cum along your body until you reached your breasts. You loved having his cum on you and he loved seeing it on you.

After your orgasm, he sat back on the couch as he worked to catch his breath. “Sorry, that was kind of a waste.”

“Not really.” You continued teasing him with your hands on your breasts and these small mewls that you knew he was already getting worked up over again.

He probably didn’t even realize what you’d said, too focused on watching you pinch and pull on your nipples.

You turned down a few minutes later, meeting his eye.

He kept his eyes on your hands as he spoke. “Wanna get in the shower while I make dinner?”

You moved off the table, legs shaky as you made your way to him. You caught his hand before he could sit you on his lap and sat down on the couch at his side. Leaning over, you took him in your mouth.

“Jesus,” he hissed.

After swallowing as much of him as you could, you set one of his hands on the back of your head. He knew what you wanted.

Holding you in place, he began rolling his hips. It wasn’t too forceful but you could feel him in the back of your throat. He was hard again in a matter of a few moments.

“God, your mouth is fucking perfect, baby.” He was losing his steady pace, his hips jerkier, slower sometimes. “All I could think about today was you. Your beautiful cunt, your fucking mouth. I’ve wanted to see you covered in my cum for so long, but...” he didn’t finish his sentence, you knew why he hadn’t.

You weren’t satisfied until you’d swallowed every drop of him. As you pulled off, he grabbed your hips and brought you onto one of his thighs. He kissed your forehead and began running his fingers through your hair.

“How was work?”

He shrugged. “You know.”

“Rough day?”

“It usually is,” he attempted to dismiss.

“Sounds like you could use good news.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You have good news?”

“Well, I’m pregnant.”

He blinked slowly, then abruptly sat up straight as his hands dropped to your hips. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, okay,” he blurted out. He moved you onto the couch, standing and tucking himself back into his pants. “Do you want to take a test?”

“I already took the test.”

“Without me?” he demanded. “How many?”

“I took two, but I went to the doctor to get it confirmed.”

“Without me?!” he repeated.

“Don’t be mad, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I am mad.” But then he leaned down and started kissing you so you figured he was going to get over it fairly quickly. He pulled away, both hands coming up to your face. “I can’t believe you. How long have you known?”

“I took the test 4 days ago. Went to the doctor today.”

“4 days?!”

“Andy, I didn’t want to get you excited if I wasn’t actually pregnant.”

“Well, can you take another test so I can see it? We have a billion upstairs.”

You scoffed. “Do you want me to? I will.”

“Yeah, kind of. I know it’s stupid—“

You shook your head. “It’s not, I can do it.”

He got on his knees on the floor, gently pressing you back to the couch. “I knew it would happen, I just didn’t think it was going to happen this soon.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still okay? You still want this?”

“Of course.”

He leaned forward, kissing your throat all the way down to your stomach. You shivered at the sensation of his beard prickling against your skin. He continued kissing you and you ran your fingers through his hair.

He turned up to you, lips still pressed just below your navel. “It’ll be a girl.”

You scoffed. “Andy, you don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insisted.

“You never said you wanted a girl.”

“I want any baby you can give me.”

“Even if it was a demon baby that turned out to be a cannibal?”

“As long as it had your smile, yes.”

You snorted. “And your eyelashes!”

“And your cheekbones.”

You ran your finger along the bridge of his nose. “Your nose.”

“Is it red like all the other demon babies?”

“You’re in too good of a mood.”

“Impossible, no mood is too good considering you’re carrying my daughter.”

“Stop,” you scolded half-heartedly. “Look, you have a total of at least 15 weeks before you find out whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

“You have 15 weeks.”

“Andrew Barber,” you scoffed, “stop.”

“Let’s bet.”

“No!” You laughed.

“Scared?”

“Don’t even try that with me.”

He shrugged. “You sound scared. I never knew that the woman who gave me a hand job in a movie theatre would be such a baby—“

“Andy, if you don’t stop talking, all of this pregnant sex you’ve been fantasizing about is not going to happen.”

With a small smile, he shut his mouth.

“Upstairs? You want me to take the test?”

He scooped you up off the couch and headed toward your bedroom.

The next day, Andy was already working on all those grand promises he’d made. You woke with your calves draped over his shoulders, his lips wrapped around your clit, his hands folded over your hips to hold you down, and his beautiful blue eyes looking up at you.

Then he wanted to go shopping. He’d already called into work, not even bothering to lie about being sick. He was thrilled to let Lynn know that you were pregnant and apparently, she knew how big of a deal that was so she let him off the hook after making him promise to take pictures of what he was intending to do to the nursery.

He wanted to paint. You had wanted to leave it white. Gendered colors were stupid anyway. He’d said the same at the start, but he was currently waving pink swatches in your face.

“Andy, what if it’s a boy?”

He shrugged. “Then he’s going to have a pink nursery. Pink sky or pink pearl?”

You spared the colors a glance. “Pink pearl. Why can’t we just do one of those gender-neutral colors?”

“Because yellow is ugly and purple is loud.”

“Green.”

“Reminds me of spring.”

“Orange.”

“Pumpkins.”

“Red.”

“Blood.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, why not dark blue? I was kind of hoping we could do, like, a constellation theme.”

He thought for a moment. “Let’s do both. But instead of blue, we’ll use pink.”

“Okay,” and you were excited again. “You are insane, though. Just so you know.”

“Hardly. Do you know how behind I am? I wasn’t expecting this to happen so soon. I haven’t found the doctor yet, I’m just barely starting on the nursery. We don’t have a name, we don’t have a crib. Essentially, we have nothing.”

Was he seriously already stressing about this? And that probably wasn’t even a fourth of what was going through his mind.

You reached over, finger tapping on the only pink color you’d seen that you liked enough to put on the walls. “We have a paint color. If you like it.”

He glanced between you and the color twice before nodding. “Okay.”

Walking through the aisles, you decided to take over. You threw all the tools he could possibly need in the cart and didn’t stop until you spotted the glitter. You stared straight at it until he got curious enough about what you were so focused on that he made his way to you. Adding glitter to paint was difficult, you knew because you had attempted before. Your friend’s sister’s kid was turning 7 and wanted to redesign her bedroom and you tagged along because glitter. It ended in tears and Andy buying you ice cream to make you feel better.

He sighed. “You want the glitter?”

“I simply cannot live without it.”

With another sigh, a much more resigned one, he started tossing in bags of the glitter additive. “You know you’re not helping, right?”

“What? Because of last time—?“

“No, because you’re pregnant.”

“Andy, it’s not even a baby yet. It’s a fetus. Can’t I just do what I would have always done up until the point that I can’t get an abortion?”

“That is not funny.”

You snorted. “It kind of is. Stop worrying.” You rolled onto your toes and kissed the tip of his nose. “Otherwise, you’re going to look like a grandfather instead of a father. And hey, I’d still be pretty attracted to you but we have more kids to make, so calm down.”

He banned you from the house. Yep, you had a total of one friend who was currently married and interested in children. That was the friend he wanted you to focus on, not the others, he said, that they meant well, but couldn’t possibly be supportive at a time like this. In reality, he never liked most of your friends. You kept them out of college and he always thought they liked to go out and drink too much.

Your friend was excited when you asked if you could stay with her for a bit. Andy wanted to paint immediately and then make sure all lingering traces of the paint were adequately gone from the house before you returned.

Painting took two days. He called you both mornings, brought you lunch at work, took you out to dinner, and made sure to call you before you went to bed.

Then he checked you both into a hotel for 3 days. You had to force him to go to work on Monday, pointing out that he really needed to be making money. You loved your job but it wasn’t as if the salary was sufficient to raise a baby on.

Andy let you revel in the beauty of the nursery up until the weekend. The constellations were a soft champagne color and the glitter was mixed in perfectly, evenly. It looked professionally done, but you weren’t surprised. He was perfect and everything he did for you and his child would be perfect as well.

Next, his mission was to find a crib and pick the doctor. Something that kept him on his laptop most of Saturday while you slept soundly next to him. You were already beginning to feel tired and you weren’t sure if that was because of him or your baby.

Time went by in a blur. He’d fallen into a routine effortlessly. He would wake you up as he told you he would, eating you out, then he would get you in the shower with him, and make sure you ate a good breakfast before he headed off to work. He would call at lunch, just to make sure you weren’t too exhausted to be at work. You always felt inclined to tell him stories about working pregnant women every time. He would come home and fix dinner and wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help. At night, after he thoroughly fucked you, which honestly didn’t take much, you would fall asleep together. It was a great first two months.

At the start of your 3rd month, you were already showing. It seemed like it was the best day of Andy’s life. In fact, he wanted to start a scrapbook. He wanted to document everything and you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was absolutely crazy. Besides, it was pretty cute.

It was around this time that you had the most absurd craving for almond butter. He loved almond butter so it was always in the house and you never once wanted any part of it. Randomly, you thought apples and almond butter sounded great and you finished the entire jar before he got home. Something that amused him greatly, he promised he would get more on his way home the next day. That new obsession lasted for a week and a half, and you had yourself convinced that it was going to be the worst of it.

No. Swap out apples for Cheetos. Seriously, you wanted to eat Cheetos and almond butter. You were downright ashamed so you didn’t even ask him to get you anything, you just snuck out to the store before he got home one night and bought yourself a sufficient stash that you kept hidden in the very back of the pantry. This wouldn’t work for the entire pregnancy but until you were further along, you intended to hide these horrible cravings.

Well, as well as you could. He was anticipating more after the almond butter so he always texted and asked if you wanted him to bring something home. So far, your genius combinations had been tacos and chocolate, macaroni and cheese and sour patch kids, cashews and Doritos, French fries and hot chocolate, and orange chicken and lemonade. Andy drove everywhere at any given hour. If there was a store open, he would go. If it was closed and you couldn’t wait that long, he would go to a 24-hour fast food place. He’d started stocking your favorites as well, and hiding them until you really needed them.

The day before you were set to find out the sex of the baby, he went shopping. You were far too tired to try to leave the house, especially since Andy could shop. You thought he would come home with more for the nursery. Since he’d found the crib, he’d started looking at bedding and the other matching furniture. You knew it would be extreme since you weren’t there to stop him. What you did not expect was that he would sneak in and take full advantage of your unconsciousness. If he hadn’t dropped something, you never would have caught him.

When you found him in the nursery, he was in the closet. Hanging up clothing. Pink clothing. For a girl. “Andy.”

“We are having a girl,” he stated simply.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered to yourself.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad I’m witnessing this insanity.”

He gave you a flat look, fully turning to you with a tiny black bodysuit with white hearts printed on it. “This could be for a boy, I don’t know what you’re so upset about it.”

You smirked. “Anything can be for a boy if you try hard enough. Look, if you wanted a girl so bad—“

“I wanted a baby.”

“Andy, you bought girl clothes!”

“Because we are having a girl.”

“You’re going to have this child alone if it doesn’t stop making me crave the most ridiculous things.”

He hummed. “Is that why you’re up here?” Smirking, he made his way to you. As usual, his hands went straight to your stomach, he had to feel any movement and it was driving him crazy that he hadn’t. “What do you want?”

You scoffed tiredly. “A lot of things. Yogurt, peach and blueberry. Something lemon, lemon squares, lemon cake. A lot of pasta, I really want spaghetti. And despite your incorrigible behavior, I want you.”

“You do mean sexually, right? Because I read sometimes pregnant women want to eat things that aren’t food—“

You placed your hand flat over his mouth. “I take it back, I just want the food.” You turned away to escape from the room but he was right on your tail. “Andy, I’m hungry.”

“I’ll get you the food,” he promised. “Let’s just make a quick stop to the bedroom first.”

You didn’t put up much resistance as he began leading you that way. He had been correct about one thing, you were so sensitive. You’d given up on wearing bras or underwear, and your clothes had to be loose. Especially given the dreams you were having. Much to his simultaneous joy and dismay, you would send him pictures and videos of certain sexual situations at least twice a week just a couple of hours before he got home.

That cocky bastard was correct. A fact that had him beaming the remainder of the appointment, all the way home, and even in his sleep. You weren’t upset that you were having a girl. It wasn’t that you thought you had a right to be picky, but very simply, you wanted a girl more than you wanted a boy. You weren’t even sure why. Gender wasn’t real and it wouldn’t upset you if someday in the future that little girl told you that she wasn’t a girl at all. Logically, you knew there was no point. But you didn’t have to be logical, not while you were carrying a baby.

Even though Andy was annoyingly smug about the whole thing, you were excited. You finally got to take a look at the closet and discovered yesterday was not his first time buying clothing. You wanted to be mad at him but he had the softest look on his face. This was everything he wanted and you liked that you were able to provide it for him.

At 5 months, he absolutely needed to feel her kick. If he wasn’t fucking you or feeding you, or shopping, or at work, his hands were on your stomach. One of his favorite things, when you got out of the shower, was covering you in lotion, something you were supposed to do to prevent stretch marks, not that either of you much cared. During that time, he would speak to her, try to get her to give him any kind of movement. Or sometimes, you would wake up and he was just level with your stomach, whispering things to her.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d felt what you presumed were “flutters” and maybe one good kick a couple of nights ago, but you weren’t certain. You sort of enjoyed that she didn’t just give in to his murmurings of “come on, baby, give daddy a kick”, or “if you kick, I’ll never tell you no”. That line was dropped from rotation after you pointed out you would be holding him to that when she wanted to start dating.

She seemed to like his voice, you could admit. Sometimes it wasn’t him that woke you up, it was her responding to him. They weren’t fast movements, they weren’t particularly forceful either, but they were there. You didn’t understand how he’d yet to feel anything. And since you were still telling him you hadn’t really felt anything, he brought it up at the next appointment. The look of pure horror on his face when the doctor told him the likelihood of fathers never feeling any movement was sad, in a funny way. Kind of. Being pregnant had made you a little meaner.

He was pouting about it all night but you told him you were sure he would feel something. You told him you wouldn’t have her until she kicked for him. He knew you couldn’t control that, obviously, but it made him feel better.

At 5 months and 2 weeks, it happened. You were failing at staying awake and trying to read a book when you felt an abrupt tap. You startled awake, discovering the book on the floor. That had to be it, you just dropped it on yourself. But then it happened again, a bit harder and a tad painful.

“Andy!”

He bolted to your side in a matter of seconds. Seriously, he had to have broken world records with that trick. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed his hands, pulling his arms over the back of the couch, and placed them over your stomach.

“Are you okay? Do we need to go—?”

“Shut up,” you ordered.

After a couple of minutes, he sighed. “You felt an actual kick?”

“Sorry, she tends to move more when I’m so still.”

He moved around the couch and sat on the floor. “It’s going to happen. I’m not going to feel her.”

“No,” you argued. “Are you working?”

“No, just scaring myself with more books.”

You held your hand out to him and he helped you up. You crouched down to pick up your dropped book and handed it off to him. “Read it, she seems to like your voice... I’ll fall asleep, see if that works.”

You were settled in bed next to Andy, his one hand pressed to the side of your belly as he read the book aloud. You were trying to keep still but also trying to stay awake, you wanted to see his face when he felt it. That was out of the question, Andy’s voice was like honey, or a fall morning, or the feeling of being home after a long day. You were out after a few paragraphs.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure why. You saw Andy hovering over you fully with wet eyes and the softest smile you had ever seen. “Baby?”

“I felt her.”

You scoffed. “I told you that you would.”

He kissed all over your stomach, lingering each time. “Maybe she finally knows I’m her daddy.”

“She always knew.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Truth?” He glanced up at you and you explained, “I’ve been feeling her for a while now. That’s why I knew she liked your voice... I have some bad news, Andy. It seems like she already knows you’re wrapped around her finger and she is going to enjoy making you jump through hoops.”

“Just like her mom.”

You smirked. “Guess so.” You reached out to touch his face. “What are you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Every morning, I wake up and I’m so sure that my life couldn’t get any better but every day, it does. I didn’t know it was possible to love as much as I love you and as much as I love her.”

You turned to mush instantly.

“I didn’t have this growing up, you know. I didn’t have a dad but I’m going to do it right. I’m not going to be like him. I don’t understand how he could just walk away from his child, I would never do that. I could never do that. Or from you, my beautiful wife. For a long time, while we were trying, I just hated him so much. More than usual. I hated that we had to try so hard and that he was given a family that he just tossed away.”

“Well, he was an idiot. You are truly the best man I will ever know, possibly the best man that there is. And you’re going to be the best father, too... Okay, maybe second best after Ryan Reynolds, but still pretty high up there.”

He scoffed.

Feeling her kick was another addition to his day. Lips and fingers brought you to orgasm before taking you to the shower where he carefully wrapped his arms around your shoulders and fucked you from behind. He would dry you off, lay you out on the bed, and cover you in lotion and pay a lot of attention to your feet. His hands all over your body never failed to make you want him, but he had to go to work. You both knew if you started, he was going to end up being late. After breakfast, he would say goodbye to you, then he would lean down and ask his little girl for any kind of movement. She’d began to indulge him at least twice a day, when he was leaving and when he would say goodnight.

He’d always let you sleep in on Saturdays and even stayed with you for a great deal of it. Mostly because he knew you could sense when he wasn’t in bed and that would wake you. But with time, you were becoming less tired. Not entirely, you still were out like the dead at 9 every night, but sometimes you woke up actually feeling rested.

Saturdays were what he intended them to be. This particular Saturday had him wrapped around you, hands flat to your stomach, chin atop your head. You had another fantastic dream, one where you weren’t pregnant.

You loved your baby and you loved that you were able to carry her but you missed how hard he fucked you sometimes. You just couldn’t wait until he could pull your hair, choke you, spank you, tie you up, all of the things he loved to do to you. More importantly, you couldn’t wait until he was on top of you, pinning you down and leaving bruises.

Those dreams were why you woke up wet more often than not. Why you never hesitated to take his hand and slide it lower but you didn’t need that today, you just needed him. For you, he’d adapted to sleeping without clothes. It was easier that way and he’d never complain about you doing the same. Besides, the heat was getting the best of you the bigger you got.

You reached back with your heel, tapping his shin several times. “Andy?”

He hummed.

“It’s Saturday. Wake up.”

He scoffed, eyes still closed. “Yeah, it’s Saturday. Sleep in.”

“Fuck me,” you whined.

“I wish I could say that wasn’t enough to get me hard.”

“You were already hard,” you assured. You could feel him against your hip.

He grabbed your thigh and draped it over him. “You know, my love, when you’re not carrying our baby, I am going to have a lot of fun making you wait for it. I am indulging you now simply because you are giving me the greatest gift anyone could. But when I can tie you up, when I can fuck you, that is what I’m looking forward to.”

You moaned as he unhurriedly slipped inside you. “I miss your hands around my neck, that’s what I’m looking forward to.”

“So, I suspect you’ll continue being a brat long past your due date.”

“Yes, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” you taunted.

“Not right now, just you wait. You’ve been bad ever since you told me you were pregnant. Laying on the couch, naked. I know you had been touching yourself. I’ve been keeping track and your ass is probably going to be getting spanked up until you’re pregnant again.”

You snorted, turning your head back slightly. “Oh, and is that going to be immediately after?”

He kissed along your jaw. “Up to you.”

“You want another girl?”

“Yeah,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

You scoffed.

“But I wouldn’t be let down by a boy,” he promised. He started delicately rolling his hips, one hand coming to your center to rub your clit.

Watching you fall apart like this was something else. Andy found you utterly beautiful, your cheeks would flush, your eyes would fill with such desperation for him that made him feel wanted. The moans that spilled from your mouth were sometimes animalistic, inspired only by how much you needed him to give you what only he could.

Now that you were pregnant, he could cover you in his cum. He always loved doing that, an interesting discovery he’d made very early in your relationship. After you decided you wanted to try for a baby, he would often come inside you and tell you to leave it there, which was pleasing as well. But this. This was simplistic, classic beauty.

He pulled out, fingers filling you instead. Your hips moved frantically, seeking the pressure of his palm against your clit. Angling your head back, his lips hungrily met yours. You reached down and took him in your hand, he turned his head slightly to hiss a curse.

Once he looked at you again, you pretended all you wanted was an innocent kiss. Something you kept up until he was just about to come, and then you bit down hard on his bottom lip. He had no idea how to retaliate and seeing the frustration play out on his face was almost as satisfying as your finish.

You laid next to him patiently as he came down, anticipating his reaction. It was always funnier when he had time to dwell on the situation. For several more weeks, you had complete permission to be as bratty as you wanted. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t been taking advantage of that more.

He turned his head to you and you smirked. “That’s going on top of the list. You will regret that.”

“The look on your face was so worth it.”

“Teasing is also going on the list,” he warned.

The day your water broke was just a normal day. Of course, not your due date. No, this baby had been torturing you since the very start, why stop now? You expected it was just something in the Barber blood. Strong-willed, complicated, and the tendency to be a complete pain in the ass.

Regardless, your husband was at work. If everything went well for him today, there was one last case that he was going to tie up, and then he was yours and hers until he was ready to go back. You figured that wouldn’t be for a long while and that was exciting.

You would think that this would have been too much by now. You guys didn’t really have your friends, or regular company that you kept. No one had been in your home, save for Lynn who you insisted he invite over so she could see the nursery in person.

She’d also given you a gift and you wanted to receive it from her in person. You knew there was a special friendship she had with Andy. A woman in a position of power, you figured she didn’t have time for many. And Andy wasn’t a typical friend, a low-maintenance guy who was kind and smart. They just went together well, and you wanted to encourage him to let her in at least a little.

He answered your call on the first ring because he’d been glued to his phone for these past three months every time that he had to leave the house. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Are you busy?” you worked to keep your voice level. No need to rile him up before he could get home.

“No, not really. I just stepped out of a meeting with Lynn. We were talking about the last case she thought of giving me. She’s wondering if three days is—”

“She should give it to someone else.” You had taken to rubbing your stomach, mentally pleading with your baby. Please, baby, just wait for your daddy. I’ll never hear the end of this if he doesn’t see it.

“Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m fine…but my water broke—”

“What?!” he yelled. You distantly heard him yelling then, “Lynn, I gotta go! My baby is on the way and she was a bit of a jerk at the start, wouldn’t kick for me. I think she’s missing all those times she killed my soul and I’m terrified she’s going to show up before I make it.”

You could only imagine the look on Lynn’s face. Or the look on his face. A cross between terrified and thrilled, he probably looked like a serial killer.

“Can you wait for me to get home?”

“Did you just call our daughter a jerk?”

He huffed. “Baby.”

“I think so. I haven’t started having any contra—nope! No, there it is.”

He talked you to through breathing until it subsided. “Okay, listen, this is very important. I’m across town right now and there’s going to be some traffic at this hour—”

“Please don’t drive crazy.”

“I won’t, I promise. But first, I need you to get the timer…where are you?”

“On the couch.”

“Great, get the timer under the table.”

“There isn’t a timer under the table.”

“There is, I taped it there.”

“For what?” you pressed.

“This, obviously.”

“But why would you tape it?”

“There are about twenty timers all over the house, hidden so you couldn’t find them and move then.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward slowly to search under the top of the table for the timer. Yup, he was being serious.

“Okay, just keep track of them. And now, the second thing, I need you to promise me something. The neighbors, if you need them to drive you, they will.”

“What?”

“I’ve been creating these backup plans ever since you told me you were pregnant.”

“Oh, come on,” you complained. “I thought you were being nice to them because you liked them.”

“I mean, it’s not as if anyone in our neighborhood would ever say no to taking you. I just had to make sure that they were good drivers.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You had hoped that having a child was making him see the importance of social ties. These people lived by you, they were all having kids, most of them would probably end up in the same school.

“Honey?”

“I thought you wanted them to be our married friends. She just had her baby 8 months ago—”

He snorted. “Yeah, in addition to that other one.”

“Are you talking about Charles?”

“I know he’s 5, but he’s evil—”

“Andy!”

“Baby, listen. I’m getting in the car now. If you need to get to the hospital before I make it there, go left first. If they are not home, then go to the right. Left then right. Left first, right is the second resort.”

“You dragged the Johnsons into this, too?”

“Dragged ‘em all in, baby. Gotta go, stay calm and don’t move unless you need to. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You hung up and laid back against the couch. It felt like all there was to do was wait for your next contraction, something you did not enjoy the first time. They were just going to get worse, you needed your husband here.

You heard Andy pull up a little over half an hour later. He charged into the house like a maniac, showing up at your side, hands immediately going to your stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had a couple of contractions,” you reported. “They don’t last long and they’re pretty far apart.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He helped you off the couch, bringing the timer along with him. He let you control the pace to the car. You’d gotten bigger than you thought you would and walking three steps was nearly a minute-long ordeal.

Halfway there, you noticed the bag over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a bag in the car?”

“I packed the car bags sometime last week. Who knows what state of mind I was in? I can’t trust my competence.”

“Are you implying that there has been a moment during these 40 weeks that you haven’t been out of your mind?”

“I’m going to pay for this neighbors bit, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you promised.

Labor wasn’t a long process. Painless as many women had told you it was? Fuck no. It hurt, a lot. But Andy was there and he was all you needed. He talked you through the breathing, he never stopped touching you, your arms, your face, your stomach. He liked to make plans when neither of those things worked. He reminded you about all the great things you guys would get to do with children, and it was enough to get you through it.

You thought you knew what love looked like, because you loved Andy so much. But when he saw your baby for the first time after she’d been set in his arms, he looked at her in such an intense, breath-taking way.

Any uncertainty you might have been playing with in your mind was gone in that second. You’d gotten a bit paranoid over time. Wondering if you guys were just going to have the same marriage as everyone else. Like, you started in love and ended with affairs and really hurtful words. But you knew then that this was not a normal family. This was true, unconditional love.

#andy barber x reader #still writing i swear #another coming up soon #my writing

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ghstandpucks · 4 years ago

Text

Misguided Ghost ~ Zak Bagans Ch. 10

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you are all doing well! Student teaching, plus class and working on my TPA's is insane right now! My cooperating teacher decided to forgo the original plans for her 3rd graders in math, and tasked me with making the lessons for this week from scratch...and I'm being observed later today. Distance learning has been interesting to say the least lol

I am working on the next chapter of my Nathan MacKinnon story so hopefully I have that out around Friday/this weekend!

Enjoy!

Chapter 9

Catching Flights and Feelings

“Mia, have you researched anything on Mickey’s Tavern in Georgia yet?” Zak asked as he walked into my office Monday morning, a week after being back from my first lockdown. Things have been back to normal between Zak and I, if you call what we had before normal. I could tell he was getting used to me being around and the snarky comments had subsided. He spent most of the days walking between my office and his, usually to end up sitting on the other side of my desk with his laptop. I had placed a new air diffuser with the same scent I had in his office, but he still said it wasn’t the same and would just stay in my office. Aaron has been teasing me, but I just brush it off.

I nodded and held up a pile of papers while I was reading through an article for a different location. Zak took them from me and sat down in his newly claimed spot in my office. Once I finished the article and highlighted what I thought stood out, I looked over my laptop at him. “Why did you want that one? I’ve done research on like 10 other locations that came in before them,” I asked, curious because he hasn’t before asked me for information on a specific site. Zak sighed and looked up from the papers. “The owner emailed me last night, then called me this morning. I guess the activity is really becoming too much to where it’s affecting his business. He was hoping we could investigate it sooner rather than later,” Zak informed me. I nodded. “Ok so, I researched that one on Friday and from what I can remember the reports are kind of crazy. Are we going to go?” I asked, taking a sip of my tea. Zak smirked at me. “Crazy is what we do here Mia. Nervous?” he asked. I laughed at his tease, as I knew now he didn’t mean anything by it. “Put me in coach,” I smirked back. Zak let out a chuckle and with a wink, left my office to presumably tell the others. ~ ~ ~ Two days later we were all at the airport, waiting to board. I had just met Jay Wasley and he seemed nice. Our flight was at 6:30 in the morning, which means I had woken up at about 3:30 to make sure I was ready when Zak and Aaron picked me up at 4:30. I was listening to my music while everyone did their own thing when Nick walked up to me and nudged my foot with his as he sat across the aisle from me. I opened my eyes and saw him holding out a tray of coffee, with one marked as a decaf pumpkin spice latte. I smiled and reached for it. “Bless your soul sir,” I said, Nick laughed and handed everyone else their drinks. Zak came over and sat next to me. “So you do drink coffee?” he asked, taking a sip of his. I smiled and shrugged. “Decaf when I know I can handle it,” I informed him. He gave me a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?” I sighed, debating if I should tell him the whole truth. I didn’t mind talking about my anxiety, but it was also a conversation I try to avoid at times. “Caffeine messes with my anxiety. In grad school I developed really bad separation anxiety from my family. I had no one in San Francisco and apparently that is not good for me. I was already stressed out with school that everything just came to a head and I actually would get sick all the time and lost about 20 pounds. It was to the point I would shake and feel light headed when I didn’t eat at regular intervals. I stopped drinking coffee and I was able to manage it better. Turns out I always had separation anxiety when I looked back to elementary school with my mom. No one just really talked about it then,” I looked down at my coffee, unsure of what his response would be. “Do you need to eat something now? I can get you a bagel or something,” Zak asked softly. I looked back at him and he looked a bit concerned. I laughed lightly. “No, I’m better now. I gained a few pounds back when I got home from school and it helped. Also keeping myself busy and being around friends takes my mind off of it so, hence why I can drink decaf at least. Thank you though,” I smiled at him. “Oh so we’re friends now?” he teased me, and I bumped into his shoulder. “Well I was talking more about Aaron, but I guess I would consider you an acquaintance” I teased back. Zak put his hand to his heart in fake hurt. “Ow! Ok, I see how it is.” He laughed. “But seriously, that doesn’t sound great. Why chose to come to Vegas and leave your family again?” “It was time to branch out again. I don’t want my anxiety to control me, and it honestly isn’t as bad as others. I’m lucky that way. Plus, I figured a three in a half hour drive from home was better than a seven in a half one so I thought I would give it go,” I explained. Zak nodded. “Well, thanks for sharing that. I’m sure I didn’t help in the beginning,” he said, looking a little upset with himself. I was starting to see the guy away from the cameras that Aaron had told me about, and I wanted to see more. “Not really. But you’ve gotten better,” I smiled at him. He chuckled and took another sip as our boarding time was called out.

Perks of traveling for the Travel Channel, business class seats! Instead of being crammed in a three-seat row, we had spacious two seat rows and I was ready for our nonstop four-hour flight to Atlanta, Georgia. I sat next to the window as Aaron sat next to me as our tickets stated. Zak and Nick were in front of us, with Billy and Jay across the aisle. Aaron settled into his seat, then turned to look at me. I was staring out the window, but I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to him and raised my eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“You and Zak seem to be getting cozy,” he whispered with a smirk. I looked toward Zak and he had his headphones in so I don’t think he heard. Looking back at Aaron, he had a look on his face like he knew what I was thinking. “We’re just becoming friends. Leave it alone,” I whispered hissed at him. Aaron rolled his eyes but kept his smile. I laughed and shook my head, looking back toward the window. I felt him shift next to me and when I turned to look, he was leaning forward tapping Zak on the shoulder. I stared at him thinking he wasn’t doing what I thought he was. Oh…but he was.

“Bro I need to talk to Nick about something. Mind switching?” Aaron asked Zak. Zak looked at me as I tried to hid in the hood of my jacket and hoped my cheeks weren’t too red. I wanted to shove Aaron.

“Not at all,” I heard Zak say. I looked up as they switched and Aaron winked at me. I shook my head slightly, then tried to smile when Zak took a seat. “Hope you don’t mind,” Zak said with that charming smile of his. I shook my head and smiled back, bringing my knees up to my chest as we got comfortable and ready for takeoff.

About an hour into the flight, I had drifted off to sleep only to be woken with a start when the plane became bumpy and the captain came over the speakers to ask all passengers to put their seatbelts on. I looked around with wide eyes and Zak must have realized I had no clue what was going on. “Hey, hey it’s ok. We just hit some turbulence,” he said, reaching for my hand. I let him intertwine our fingers as my heart started to slow back down. I smiled lightly at him, slightly embarrassed by my panic.

“Sorry,” I said quietly. He smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he stated, and went back to looking at his phone. I looked down at our hands and I could feel myself start to blush. It was strangely comforting knowing he was right there. I squeezed his hand reflexively as the plane gave another jolt. It’s not like I’ve never been through turbulence on a plane before, but it still didn’t mean that I liked it. Zak gave a reassuring squeeze to my hand and put his phone down, shifting his body so he was facing me more. “Why don’t you tell me about the history of this bar we’re going to,” he asked lightly. “I’m ok, honestly,” I said, feeling bad I took him away from what he was doing before. Zak smiled.

“Who said I was doing this for your benefit?” he winked. I rolled my eyes but smiled none the less. I quietly began listing off what I remembered about the site, Zak asking questions here and there. Thirty minutes later the seatbelt sign was turned off again but Zak didn’t let go of my hand, and I would be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel like there were butterflies in my stomach. About an hour later, we were getting ready to land. Only then Zak let go of my hand to put his backpack away and I couldn’t stop myself from feeling slightly disappointed. Though we had started talking about the location, we then started talking about music and concerts we’ve been to, and just life in general. We were really starting to get to know each other, and I was happy he was trusting me enough to open up.

Once off the plane, we claimed our luggage and all the tech equipment, heading off to the rental car area. Because there were 6 of us and many bags, we ended up with two SUVs. Billy and Jay in one with all the tech equipment, and the rest of us in the other with the luggage. I sat in the back with Aaron as Nick drove and Zak was in the passenger seat. I was watching Aaron as he was trying to hid his phone from me, but kept looking up with a goofy smile. I laughed at him as my phone and Zak’s both rang with a notification. Aaron gave me a huge smile as I looked at him suspiciously. “I’m scared to look at that,” I whispered and Zak shot around.

“Dude, seriously?” he didn’t seem mad or irritated, just slightly chuckled and shook his head. I looked between the two of them. Oh God…I picked up my phone and saw the Instagram notification that Aaron had tagged me in a post. I opened it up and my jaw dropped. Crap…

Aarongoodwin: The newbie can’t handle early morning travel #ghostadventures #travelbuddies #adoptedlilsis

Above the caption was a picture that Aaron shot over his head with him making a laughing face. I was fast asleep on Zak’s shoulder, with my knees curled up to my chest and leaning in his direction as well. Zak looked unphased, face in his phone, not noticing what Aaron was up to. To be honest, the picture was cute. But I was slightly mortified. What is Zak thinking? What are the fans going to think? Aaron just posted the picture two minutes ago and it already had over 400 likes and 53 comments. But one stood out.

Realzakbagans: What can I say? I make a good pillow. I looked up to see Zak watching me. When I caught his eyes he winked at me, then turned back around. I laughed and shook my head.

NotMiaThermopolis: OMG! @realzakbagans sorry! @aarongoodwin I hate you. #notamorningpersonBoth Zak and Aaron checked their phones at the same time. Zak let out a bark like laugh as Aaron yelled “Hey!” Nick stopped at a red light and turned toward us.

“Will someone please fill me in?” he asked. Zak showed him the post and he started laughing. “Ok, that is a cute picture though. I will have my two cents in about it once we get to the hotel.” I looked at Aaron and shook my head as he gave me puppy dog eyes.

“You suck,” I laughed and smiled at him. He gave me a big smile as we all settled back into our seats for the hour drive out of Atlanta.

#zak bagans imagine #zak bagans x reader #zak bagans #Ghost Adventures #ghost adventures x reader #ghost adventures imagine #misguided ghost

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bellaireland1981 · 5 years ago

Text

Lights, Camera, Coffee in LA

Ok, this is my absolute first time posting a story I’ve written and I am anxious as hell about it lol. Please be kind!

Summary: Elena “Lena” is off to LA for the summer to visit her brother. Her summer gets off to a great start when she ends up sat next to none other than Chris Evans on the plane. (I suck at summaries!) Thank you SO much to @denisemarieangelina for reading and providing feedback, and a WAY better title than I’d managed to think of! You’re AMAZING!

Characters: Chris Evans x OFC Elena

Word count: 4921

Warnings: None... absolute fluff

“I’m boarding the plane now, Mikey,” I gasped, out of breath from running through the airport.

“Oversleep again, Lena?” He asked laughing on the other end.

“Actually, my Uber was late and then we hit traffic on the freeway, thank you very much!” I said, indignantly, making my way down the gangway and onto the plane.

“Ok, well safe flight, I’ll see you in a few hours.” he responded, “Love you, Sis!”

“Love you too, Mikey! Can’t wait to see you!” I was excited to see my big brother. He’d moved out to L.A. when I was 12 years old to pursue a career in acting. He’d made a name for himself on a soap opera, but had decided he preferred being behind the camera instead of in front of it.

I quickly located my seat and stowed my carry-on in the overhead compartment before dropping into the seat by the window. One perk of having Michael book my tickets was an upgrade to first class.

I had just finished another year teaching 2nd grade and was looking forward to spending time in California with my big brother. Due to budget cuts, we had ended up with overcrowded classrooms this past year (meaning I’d had a class of 30 second graders as opposed to the normal 20 I was used to!). Needless to say, I was exhausted and needed a break.

“Can I get you something to drink before we take off ma’am?” a flight attendant asked me, smiling.

“Do you have any tea?” I asked, smiling back at her, I hadn’t had time to stop for caffeine on my way to the airport and wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet. “Or at this point, I’d drink week-old coffee resembling mud.”

“We can’t have you drinking mud, I’d be happy to get you some tea” She replied laughing, “Any milk, sugar, or honey?”

“Just plain, please!” I replied, “You’re seriously a life-saver!”

“All part of my job title!” She said before collecting the pre-flight drink orders from other passengers settling into their seats.

“A fellow caffeine addict, huh?” A smooth, deep voice sounded next to me. It appeared as though my seat neighbor had arrived.

“Not even ashamed to admit to that! “In all fairness though, it is before 8 in the morning, and a Monday no less.” I smiled up at the newcomer, and almost swallowed my tongue in the process.

Chris freaking Evans was standing less than a foot away, placing his bag in the overhead compartment. He had on a gray Henley with the sleeves pushed up, jeans, and a NASA hat pulled down to help disguise his identity. Pull it together Lena, do NOT fangirl on the poor guy!

“Both fair points!” He said taking his seat and turning slightly towards me. Even with the added room in first class, he was still insanely close to me. I could smell his cologne or aftershave, which didn’t help my already overloaded senses. “I’m Chris, by the way.”

“Elena” I replied, smiling, “Everyone just calls me Lena though.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lena” He replied with a smile of his own. Ugh, his azure blue eyes were seriously going to be my downfall. “What has you headed to L.A?”

“My brother lives there. I’m just going to visit for the summer. “A much-needed break from reality.” I replied, impressed that my inner fangirl wasn’t showing through...at least I hoped it wasn’t noticeable to Chris.

“I can definitely understand the need for a break.” He said, “The whole summer, huh? Must be a teacher?”

“Very good deduction skills!” I said laughing

“My older sister is a teacher as well, it was an easy deduction to make” He smirked, winking at me. “What do you teach?”

“I’m a second-grade teacher, although there are days I’d say ‘kitten wrangler’ would be a better job title.” I replied honestly. “Especially this past school year.”

“An entire room full of, what… 8-year-olds?” His eyes widened, “That’d be like a room full of my nephews… yeah, you need a break!”

“Yeah, 7 and 8-year-olds… 30 of them to be exact.” I replied, “I’m a kitten-wrangling ninja, what’s your superpower?”

He threw his head back at that and laughed, his left hand coming up to grab his chest. I smiled like an idiot at the fact that I was able to make him laugh hard enough to get the left boob grab.

“Super-human strength, quick healing abilities, and I look damn good for 100!” He replied, cheekily.

“Your tea Ma’am” the flight attendant interrupted, bringing my much-needed drink.

“Thank you so much!” I replied, taking the steaming cup.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Evans?” she asked Chris, batting her eyelashes at him. I turned my head away to quickly stifle the snicker that was bubbling up.

“I’m good for now, thanks though.” He replied, then turning back towards me.

“Get that often, Mr. Evans. Or do you prefer Captain?” I asked as the flight attendant walked away.

“So, you do know who I am. I wasn’t too sure if you did or didn’t know.” He replied, laughing nervously.

“Yeah, figured that one out as soon as I looked up.” I replied gently, “But, honestly, I get that constant public adoration can get old, so I kept the fangirling to a minimum.”

“Fangirling, huh?” He asked, his smile getting bigger. “So, you’re a fan?”

“I may or may not be team Cap” I replied, my inner nerd shining through. “I’m also team Thor though, so…”

“I’ll take it!” He replied laughing, “You said team Cap first, so that’s all I’m hearing.”

It was my turn to throw my head back laughing at his child-like response. It was nice to see the playful side of Chris, the true person that he is not the actor everyone knows.

“Welcome aboard flight 723 with non-stop service to LAX.” One of the flight attendants announced, “We will be pushing back and getting underway here in the next few minutes. At this time, we ask that you make sure that your seatbelts are fastened and return any seats and trays to the upright position. We are right on time, and should be landing at LAX at approximately 9:55 am local time.”

“Ugh, this is my least favorite part of flying. I wish I could just click my heels and arrive wherever I want to be.” I admitted to him in a nervous manner.

“Not a fan of flying?” He asked sympathetically, looking over at me.

“In general, flying is fine” I responded, trying to keep my breathing normal, “It’s taken off and landings I’m not exactly fond of.”

“Did you have a bad experience?” He asked out of curiosity.

“Nope” I replied, “But the way I see it, if something goes wrong at either takeoff or landing, you’re close enough to the ground still where chances are it’s going to hurt. When you’re in the air, you’re high enough up where if you crash, you’re just dead and won’t know how much the pain sucks.”

Chris was momentarily speechless as he processed my theory. I’m sure the theory is flawed but hey, fears are generally irrational right?

“Wow” he said finally, “I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it that way before.”

“I’ve never actually put that into words before, and I will admit that it does sound absurd.” I replied, “It sounded much less insane in my head.”

“No, not insane.” He quickly reassured me, “Probably has some validity to it...somewhere.”

“You’re way too nice!” I replied smiling, “Let’s pretend I didn’t disclose that information, and you don’t know the level of my nerdiness.”

“We’ve all got some nerdiness in us,” he replied with a flirty smile, “But I have to admit that the nerdiness is pretty damn adorable on you.”

I could feel my face heating up at the compliment. Holy shit, Chris Evans just called me adorable. My inner fangirl was screaming.

Before I was able to form a response, the plane started moving away from the gate. I could feel anxiety starting to boil in my gut. I gripped the armrest of my seat, knuckles turning white.

“Hey” Chris said softly, pulling my attention away from the window, “Keep breathing, Lena” His

right hand reached over and gently engulfed my hand in his own. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax.

“I promise I’m not normally such a spaz.” I said apologetically, looking at him.

“None of that,” He said smiling, “We all have things that make us anxious. No judgement here.”

“So, are you heading back to L.A. for work or is that your home base?” I asked, trying to focus on something else.

“A little of both actually.” He replied, “I’m meeting with a director about a film I’m really interested in doing, but I do have a house in L.A. that I spend a lot of time at. Home though… that’s always Boston. Where is home for you?”

“I live in Providence, but I grew up in Newport.” I replied, “With the exception of my brother, the rest of my family is all still in Rhode Island.”

“Another New Englander!” He said smiling broadly, “It’s not Boston, but… you’re in the right region!”

“The only time I’m ever in Boston is when I’m catching a flight.” I admitted, “I always tell myself I’m going to drive up and spend some time there especially Salem, but something always comes up.”

“What!?” He exclaimed, “There is so much more to Boston than the AIRPORT!”

I laughed at the shock and dismay displayed on his face and in his voice.

“I’ll make a point to get there before I go back to work this fall.” I laughed, crossing my heart like the second graders I taught often did.

“I’ll hold you to that” He said, attempting to give me a stern look...but failing, as the laughter in his eyes gave him away. “What are you planning on doing while in L.A. this summer?”

“My brother actually lives in Malibu, so I will be spending as much time at the beach as possible.” I was very excited to spend time in the Pacific Ocean, surfing and hopefully diving at some point. The Atlantic was great, but definitely much colder. “I will also be buying an annual pass to Disneyland so I can go as often as I want and get my Disney fix. Once will definitely not be enough.”

“You’re a Disney fan too?” Chris asked, eyes growing wide, “You’re perfect you know that?”

“Far from it, I assure you.” I laughed, “Just ask my brothers.”

“Are you a Patriot’s fan?” he asked, turning his whole body towards me now. “Because seriously, if you are, I’m marrying you as soon as we get off this plane.”

I laughed and tucked a stray piece of brown hair back behind my ear nervously.

“I’m not really into football…” I replied smiling, “I’m more of a soccer fan. I enjoy baseball too.”

“I can accept that” He replied smiling widely, “I don’t know much about soccer, but what’s your favorite baseball team?”

“The Red Sox.” I replied, “My dad is a huge Sox fan, as are all my brothers. Mikey tries to play like he’s a Dodger fan now that he lives in L.A, but honestly that’s just to mess with my dad.”

“I was right, Lena.” Chris said teasingly, “You're legitimately perfect.”

“Even if I’m not a football fan?” I laughed. Butterflies were swarming in my belly for a whole new reason now. My fear of taking off, long forgotten. I glanced quickly out the window to realize we were in the air. Chris had kept me occupied to ease my anxiety during takeoff. “Well played, Evans.” I said, looking back over at him. He shrugged and gave me a boyish smile.

“Sometimes it helps to keep the mind busy when you’re anxious so that you aren’t focused on what is causing the anxiety.” He replied, seemingly from experience.

“Thank you” I replied simply. I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“So, what’s your favorite ride at Disney?” He asked, changing topics.

“Is it acceptable to say that I love them all?” I asked him hopefully. Seriously, how do you choose just one ride?

“Nope. You got to pick one,” he said, shaking his head, “No cop out answers.”

“Ok, well I adore Space Mountain, but I also love The Matterhorn. The Haunted Mansion though is also a favorite…” I replied, “Best I can do is Top 3 favorites.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” He conceded, “Good choices too. You went with the classics.”

“What are your favorite rides?” I asked, “And no ‘cop out’ answers either.”

“Space Mountain.” He said without hesitation. “That’s the one I could ride all day.”

“Favorite Disney movie?” I asked him.

“Of all time? Dumbo” he replied, “But I honestly love all the Classic Disney movies, and the newer ones too. What’s yours?”

“All-time favorite… Pinocchio.” I replied thoughtfully. “I adore Jiminy Cricket. But I also wore out two copies of the Oliver and Company movie.”

“I love Oliver and Company!” He exclaimed, “My dog, Dodger, is named after the Dodger in that movie!”

“It’s a great movie.” I agreed, “Where’s Dodger now?”

“He’s back in Boston with my mom and sister.” he said, a sad smile on his face. It was obvious he loved his dog. I’d read and watched interviews with him, whenever asked about his dog he lit up like a kid at Christmas.

“Are you going to be in L.A for a long time?” I asked

“Depends on my meeting with the director, I guess.” He replied, “If it goes well, I’ll bring Dodge out and we’ll stay out here until filming ends. I don’t have anything else on the schedule at the moment. Just finished my contract with Marvel.”

“It’s got to be a good feeling to have the freedom to just relax and pick what you want to work on.” I said, “I won’t lie though, I’m heartbroken you won’t be Captain American anymore.”

“It was hard to walk away after the last day on set, but it was definitely time. I was burning out.” he said honestly, “I feel like I went out on the right note though.”

“I’ll admit that I literally ugly cried in the theater during Endgame.” I confided in him, “Complete with crocodile tears, blotchy eyes...the whole nine yards. You broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“But it’s not like Cap died!” he reasoned, “He just finally got the chance to live out the life he wanted!”

“Although that part did make me teary, the part that broke me was watching Cap get his heart broken when Natasha and Tony died.” I explained, “The scene where you’re sitting there and the tears are falling… ugh.”

“If it helps, it was extremely difficult for us all to make it through that film.” He said, “We were all emotionally attached to the characters.”

“That does make me feel better, thanks.” I replied.

The rest of the flight was spent talking about anything and everything. I was so caught up in the

conversation that I never even heard them announce we were beginning our descent into L.A., so when the plane touched down and started to taxi up to the terminal gate, I was shocked.

“Again, well played Mr. Evans” I laughed looking back over to Chris. “Thank you”

“I really enjoyed this flight, Lena.” He said smiling, “I’m actually kind of sad we’ve landed.”

“I can honestly say, this is the best flight I’ve ever had.” I admitted, a blush spreading over my neck and face. “I wouldn’t have been sad if it had been longer.”

The plane had taxied into the designated gate and came to a stop. Around us people were rushing to gather up their belongings.

“As crazy as this sounds, I’d really like to see you again.” Chris said, looking anxious for the first time since he’d introduced himself. It was as though he doubted, you’d want to see him again, which made absolutely zero sense!

“It doesn’t sound crazy, Chris” I reassured him softly. “I would like to see you again too.”

“Put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you so you have mine.” He said handing me his phone.

I quickly typed my number into his phone before handing it back to him. He finished saving the contact info and then sent a text to me. I heard my phone’s notification ping, alerting me to a new message. It was if the ping of my phone set off a swarm of butterflies in my belly. The anxiety from earlier in the flight was back, but for a whole new reason.

I opened up the message from Chris and quickly saved his contact info. Chris grabbed his bag down out of the overhead compartment then grabbed mine down and handed it over to me.

“I’m assuming since you’re here for a while, you’ve got more luggage checked” He laughed,

“Either that, or you travel extremely light.”

“Honestly, I probably over packed” I laughed, rolling my eyes at myself. “I never know what I’ll need or want when traveling so I just throw it all into the luggage and go with it.”

“That’s one way to do it, I suppose.” He winked at me, “If you don’t mind, I’ll walk with you that way. I’m getting picked up at arrivals anyway.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I replied, “My brother is supposed to be picking me up. I’m guessing he’ll be at arrivals too.”

We walked towards baggage claim, making our way through the large crowds at LAX. I noticed

Chris kept hat down low over his eyes, doing his best to blend in and not be recognized. He stayed close to me, trying to avoid being separated.

We arrived at baggage claim right as the bags were starting to appear on the conveyor belt.

Luckily, my bag came around quickly. I grabbed it off the belt and turned around, almost running straight into Chris. I hadn’t realized he was so close.

“Sorry!” he said, a boyish grin on his face, as he steadied me, “I didn’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

“No worries” I said breathily, enjoying the close proximity to him. “I think this is the fastest my bag has ever gotten off the plane. Thankfully, it wasn’t lost this time!”

“That’s happened before?” His eyebrows shot up in shock, “That must have sucked!”

“It did” I agreed, “I was in Germany too, which made it even worse. I was with a student group and we weren’t staying in one spot, so it was quite the production getting my stuff to me!”

“Well at least had it happened here, you’d have been stationary” He laughed, “How long did it take to get reunited with your luggage?”

“It took 3 days for it to catch up with us.” I said, “Thankfully, I had enough in my carry on that I was able to survive the separation.”

“LENA!” I heard a familiar voice yell. I quickly looked up and around for the source of the voice to find my sister in law, holding a neon green sign with my name in pink sparkles. I laughed, shaking my head at her.

“Talia!” I giggled heading over to her and hugging her. I adored my sister in law, in fact, she was probably my favorite. “Was the sign necessary?”

“Of course, it was!” she replied laughing, “I’d hate to be accused of being basic!”

“Extra… yes” I laughed, “Never basic.”

“I see you’ve made a friend already” She said, glancing over to where Chris was standing, his eyes dancing with laughter at the exchange.

“Talia, this is Chris.” I said making the introduction. I figured she had already figured out exactly who he was. “Chris, my sister in law, Talia.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Chris” She said smiling brightly. Talia is also a huge Marvel fan, but she’s more team Iron Man/ RDJ. Being married to my brother, she was used to being around celebrities and has perfected the art of remaining cool. I had a feeling I needed to take a page from her book this summer if I was going to survive in my brother’s world.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Talia.” Chris responded warmly.

“Ok, let’s get out of here!” Talia exclaimed, “Michael gave me strict orders to bring you straight to him before going to the house. I think he missed his baby sister.”

“I’ve definitely missed him too” I said, excited to see him.

We all headed out of the airport and into the balmy California weather. I smiled looking around at the palm trees and feeling thesunshine beat on my face. It was going to be a great summer!

Straight ahead of us was a pick up line filled with limos, black SUVs, and sedans along with their drivers holding signs with the people they were looking for.

“There’s my ride,” Chris said, seeing his name in the line. He wrapped me in a quick hug before pulling back and smiling. “I’ll text you later Lena and we can make plans to get together.”

“Sounds great!” I beamed, trying to remember how to breathe. Chris Evans just hugged me!

Talia and I quickly made our way across the pickup lanes and headed towards the parking garage attached to the airport.

“Already making friends with Hollywood Heartthrobs before even landing in L.A., huh?” Talia joked as I threw my luggage into the back of her black Land Rover.

“He’s super sweet, Lia!” I gushed, “He kept me occupied the entire flight, especially during takeoff and landing, so I wouldn’t freak out. We talked about everything, and he never made me feel like a major dork.”

“Michael has mentioned several times that he’s very down to earth and a genuinely nice person.” She revealed, “He’s actually meeting with Chris this week about a part in the film he’s directing.”

“Ohmygod!” I exclaimed, “THAT’S the movie he was talking about? He said he was in town to meet with a director but never said what the film was or which director. What is the flipping’ odds he’d be meeting with my brother?”

“Hollywood is actually not that big” Talia said laughing, “Everyone is essentially connected to someone through a mutual friend. Not that shocking he’d know Michael. I’m guessing Chris didn’t put it together?”

“My last name never came up honestly” I replied, “Well, I guess this means I’m guaranteed to see him again!”

Being that it was past rush hour, it didn’t take too long to get from the airport to the studio lot where Michael was preparing for his next film. Talia found a parking spot close to a large building that I assumed contained a sound stage.

“Alright, he’s inside meeting with a few set designers. He said to come straight in when we got

here.” Talia said getting out of the vehicle.

We walked into the building, which currently looks like a cross between an airplane hangar and a warehouse.

“There’s my Little-Bit!” Michael said jogging over towards us. He quickly scooped me up into a hug, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around. “I’ve missed your kiddo!”

“I’ve missed you too, Mikey!” I said laughing, “I hate that we live on opposite sides of the country now!”

“I know, Kiddo.” He said setting me back on my feet and taking a step back, “You know, there are plenty of schools out here you can teach at.”

“Don’t tempt me!” I joked, “We just had one of the worst winters in over a decade this year… the temptation to leave it all behind is strong.”

“I know you probably want to get settled and freshen up from your trip, but I couldn’t wait to see you” He said, “I have a few more meetings but should be out of here by early afternoon, so we can make plans to go out somewhere for dinner tonight.”

“Perfect, I am in desperate need of shower and clean clothes.” I replied, “Other than that, my social calendar is wide open.”

“For now, at least.” Talia teased, bumping into me and smirking. “I doubt it stays that way.”

“Yeah, I’m totally on the prowl to fill my calendar” I rolled my eyes, trying to play her comment off so Michael wouldn’t ask questions.

“That’ll be hard to do if you spend all summer at Disney, Little-Bit.” Michael teased, “Although, I hear Goofy is still single.”

“Oh wow, all have jokes today.” I laughed, turning towards Talia “On that note, I’m ready to leave now.”

“OK, you’re chariot awaits milady!” She responded, “I’ll see you at home, baby.”

“Drive safe, stay out of trouble.” He said, “Love you both.”

________________________________

I woke the next morning to my cell phone alerting me to a new message. I sat up and grabbed my phone. I was shocked that I’d managed to sleep past nine. I leaned back against the queen-sized headboard and opened up my text messages.

C: 7:35AM Hey Lena, I’ve got a meeting this morning about that project I mentioned but would

really love to see get together later if you’re available. Maybe get some coffee, or another beverage?

C: 8:00 AM Ok, that sounded really lame. Let me try again. Lena, would you like to go out for a drink later?

L: 9:04 AM Hi! Sorry, I just woke up! You didn’t sound lame at all. I’d love to get coffee...or another beverage with you later! I don’t think I have anything going on today. Let me track down my brother to make sure he didn’t plan anything.

I pushed the covers back and got out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet in the guest bedroom I was staying in. I pulled my long brown hair up into a messy knot on top of my head, deciding to deal with it later, and headed downstairs in search of Michael or Talia to see what the plans for the day were.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could hear voices on the back patio that overlooked the beach. I detoured to the kitchen first to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before heading out to the patio.

I opened the French doors and stepped out onto the cool bricks, before stopping dead in my tracks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Morning, Little Bit!” Michael said cheerfully, oblivious to my panic. “This is Chris, I’m trying to recruit him for my current project.”

“We actually met on the plane yesterday,” Chris said, winking at me with a smirk, “Morning, Lena. Love your shirt.”

I quickly glanced down, forgetting what I was wearing, and realized I still had on my old Red Sox tank and a pair or navy-blue sleep shorts.

“Thanks” I laughed nervously, “Good Morning.”

“Grab a seat Lena and join us for breakfast” Michael offered, “Lia had to meet with a client this morning, but will be back later.”

I sat down, next to Michael, which put me directly across from where Chris was sitting. I grabbed some grapes from the fruit bowl and placed them on the plate in front of me. Michael passed a platter of bacon and toast, so I added some of that to my plate as well.

“Lia made sure to make some of the bacon extra crispy for you too” Michael said shaking his

head, “although by that point it’s like eating straight bacon bits.”

“I’ll only eat it when it’s crispy because I can’t stand the idea that I’m gnawing on pig fat.” I replied, sticking my tongue out at him. “You’re lucky I’m even eating pork again.”

“There was a time you didn’t eat pork?” Chris asked, his eyebrow cocked.

“I had to dissect a pig in my honors biology class sophomore year.” I replied, “my lab partner was a little over zealous, and after a week of picking at a pig carcass, I couldn’t bring myself to eat pork anymore.”

“She wouldn’t eat any meat for about a month.” Michael added smiling at me.

“What made you decide to start eating meat again?” Chris asked curiously.

“I missed cheeseburgers” I shrugged, “Being a vegetarian wasn’t working for me, so I decided to be a porketarian instead.”

Chris laughed, shaking his head, “How long did you go without eating pork?”

“I just started eating it again about a year ago.” I admitted. “So, about 20 years.”

“That’s a long time.” he said looking shocked, “What made you decide to eat it again?”

“She missed bacon” Michael replied.

“Pretty much” I agreed. “I missed BLTs… and turkey bacon wasn’t the same.”

“Fair enough” Chris said.

“So, what’s on your agenda today Mickey?” I asked my brother, steering the conversation away from me.

“I have a couple of meetings at the studio but I should be wrapped up by late afternoon, I was planning on grabbing steaks on the way home so we can throw them on the grill tonight.” He replied, “What are your plans for today?”

“I was thinking of going to grab coffee, or a beverage of some kind today” I smirked at Chris.

___________________________

That’s all I’ve got! Should I make a part 2?? Thanks for reading!!

#chris evans #fanfic

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Birds ~ Stan Uris (Part 6)(final)

A/n: Yes we did finally get here haha! Here's the conclusion :) Sorry it took me so long! I really am the worst oof

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4100+

I wanna watch from somewhere undisturbing- quiet, calm, still. Sit right here and gaze at the unknown...

It had been an accident. Everything seemed to be these days.

The other Loser had kept Y/n and Stan up way past either of their bed times. Maybe you think that's silly but they were the kind of people that needed certain amount of hours of sleep to be functional, and it was far, FAR too late to be awake. The others had separated, leaving Y/n and Stan alone because they were being especially touchy tonight. With their sleepiness clouding their brains, they didn't have the usual things stopping them.

Hesitance. Self doubt. Shyness. Awkwardness. Even now, as they walked, they were hand-in-hand, fingers twitching and brushing as they interlaced them to remind themself and the other that they were there. Their voices were low and their words sweet and affectionate as they lightly teased and flirted - something they never did in words like now. Stan had walked home on autopilot and Y/n had followed him without thinking. So now they stood in front of Stan's house at the ripe hour of three a.m., hand in hand and blushing and grinning and giggling and trying to stay quiet.

Y/n sighed, their free hand raising to brush Stan's cheek. "I guess this is where I go."

"You don't have to," Stan blurted. "It's really late and something bad might happen if you're alone. Maybe- maybe stay here for the night?" All he was thinking was he didn't want them to go. They were warm and soft and adorable and glowing with sleepiness.

Y/n was thinking along the same lines. Stan's whole body was relaxed, eyelids nearly closed he was so exhausted. His smile was enchanting and contagious and the thought of turning him down and having it go away was unacceptable. "Okay," they whispered without really thinking about it or making the decision to. Not that they wanted to go, but a part of their brain was still sensible and knew this was a bad idea- if for no other reason than their parents would be pissed tomorrow if they never came home tonight. Despite knowing that, Y/n still accepted and didn't even think about turning back when Stan took their hand and began pulling them after him into the house, into his room, and towards the bed. "Are you wearing jeans and a polo shirt to bed?" Y/n asked, hesitating on getting into bed.

Stan thought for a second. "No," he more hummed than spoke, sighing as he said the word. "And you shouldn't have to sleep in your clothes either. Here, I'll give you some of my pajamas. Is that okay?" Y/n nodded, smiling. Stan pulled out some pajama pants and his most comfortable t-shirt and handed them to Y/n before moving into the bathroom. "Be right back."

Y/n began to change, shrugging before deciding that the best time to change would be here and now. They reached behind, hand finding their collar before pulling, tilting their head forward so the shirt came off smoothly. Next was the pants. As they put them on and then began to put on the shirt as well, Stan came out with clothes in his hands, topless. Both froze upon seeing the other not quite as dressed as they were used to being and seeing each other. Y/n cleared their throat, pulling the shirt the rest of the way down and stopping down to pick up their clothes. "Where do you want me to put these?"

Stan snapped out of it at the sound of their voice, moving to a basket in a corner to grab a plastic grocery sack from it. Y/n then noticed that Stan's room was perfectly clean and organized. Well, mostly. The closet was like some rich middle aged single man's from some corny movie; the floor bare and cleaned. Stan walked with socks, shoes tucked neatly in a corner on the floor by the door. The bed was made, the books all in a place on the shelves so that it looked like a one-shelf library. However, despite all the otherwise cleanliness and organization, there was a single writing desk in the corner that was covered in all kinds of writing utensils - pens, pencils, crayons, highlighters; the works - and books and papers. Some books were open, some were stacked willy-nilly in piled ready to tip over. Some books even had oddly bent papers shoved into them, out of line with the binding as if they'd been hastily shoved in as a bookmark maybe, before the book was closed, leaving the paper only to bend were it passed over the middle inside binding. Some papers looked old; some new. Some were single pieces; some were stapled or held together with a binder pin. The desk was all kinds of messy, looking wild and out of place and odd in the otherwise spotless room. Like seeing a wild, overgrown jungle in full swing with the insane climate and dangerous wild life and everything- in the middle of a suburb that, outside of the jungle, was casual weather and normal people all wearing the same generic clothes and working the same generic job.

Stan noticed where Y/n was staring and turned a deep shade of almost-purple red, dropping the bag at Y/n's feet to trip over himself as he tried to cover the mess on his desk. Without thinking, Y/n dropped their clothes on top of the bag, still on the floor, and moved to catch his hands. "I- I'm sorry about the mess. It makes sense to me but it bothers me too, I just don't really have a place for all of this and if I misplace anything because I'm used to it being in this specific place on my desk I might actually go crazy- like, it's this weird thing where everything has a place and these things kind of have made their own place before I could find them a proper, actual space and, God, I'm so sorry-"

It was the sound of the light giggle, full of adoration, that caused Stan to grow quiet. Y/n moved over to him, their hand rising to gently caress his face. He was suddenly warm, melting into the touch and smiling, his gaze turning super dreamy and lovey as he looked at Y/n. "It's okay," they whispered. "I think it makes me feel less like I'm going to break something if I touch anything if there's at least a little mess. Let's get into bed, yeah? It's late."

Stan nodded, suddenly completely at ease for some reason. He climbed under his covers, Y/n following after him. They lay there a second, shoulders an inch apart so they weren't touching, before Stan snapped. He turned to face his crush. "Can I... hold you? Like, cuddle?" He had such a hopeful look in his eyes, but that wasn't what got Y/n to say yes. They wanted it as much as he did. Soon Stan was pulling them close, their back to his chest and his arms wrapping around them. Y/n rose their hands so their and Stan's fingers interlaced. Their legs tangled just a bit to bring them closer and make the situation even more comfortable. "Good night," Stan whispered after a second.

A contented sigh came from Y/n before they whispered, "'Night, Stan the Man." They were asleep before either could think any further about it.

The next morning, waking up next to each other was amazing. Stan was awake first, his arms tightening around Y/n as his mind slowly recalled the night before. Y/n pressed closer against him and he closed his eyes, trying to keep the moment for a few seconds before his anxiety got the best of him. Maybe he had nodded off again, or had just not been awake enough to properly register the passage of time, because it seemed only a second that he had blocked out the world, but when he opened his eyes again, it was much brighter and Y/n was facing him now, where they’d had their back to him before as he held them close and against him.

As if sensing Stan's being awake this time around, Y/n opened their eyes. Upon seeing Stan looking back, they smiled. Stan's whole body grew a degree warmer, buzzing a little like he had just drunk a lot of caffeine. "Good morning," Stan whispered. The moment was almost reverent. He was scared of disturbing it by talking too loudly.

Y/n seemed to agree. "Good morning," they whispered back just as softly. There was a while where they just sleepily smiled at each other and said nothing before Y/n broke the comfortable silence to speak again. "I like waking up next to you."

Stan was sure he was blushing. "I like it too. Especially because it means I can..." he deliberated on maybe not saying what he was thinking a second before adding, "Hold you. When we sleep. You're warm."

Y/n's grin was enough to wipe all the doubt from Stan's mind. "I like your morning voice."

Now Stan was DEFINITELY blushing. "I like your bed head," he shot back. The two still spoke just as softly as they'd begun.

Suddenly Y/n got much more serious. Not quite shier, but more genuine. "I like you."

Without any hesitation, Stan replied. "I like you too."

Y/n frowned, which isn't what Stan was expecting them to do. "No, Stan." They sighed. "I LIKE like you. I think about holding your hand and kissing you and wonder what it would be like for you to be my boyfriend. Like, romance like you."

Stan's smile had wavered before but now it returned back brilliantly. It was Y/n's turn to be shocked. "I know. Me too." He paused, letting Y/n process that. Right when they were about to say something, he threw them off yet again. "You know, my dad says that there's a difference between like and love. You can love someone but not like them, because you have loyalty and long term care even if you sometimes don't want to be around them." Another, shorter pause. "I like you." He smiled wider, his voice growing even softer as if what he said next was a secret for just them. "I also love you." In a way, it WAS a secret. But he was tired of it being a secret that he kept from Y/n.

The longest pause yet stretched as Y/n processed that. Stan waited patiently. Y/n didn't lean away or push Stan away or seem to be upset on any level. Stan knew that Y/n at least liked him. Wanted to date him. There wasn't anything for him to worry about, really. Or maybe he was still tired. Maybe he'd think about this later and wonder what had possessed him to be so reckless.

He wouldn't regret it, though. He didn't know how he knew, but he did indeed know.

And he was right.

Y/n finalized their thoughts with a nod, snuggling even closer. "May I kiss you?" Stan mirrored the nod they had done and the two teens moved their faces closer, pressing their lips together softly. Stan didn't realize how tense Y/n was until they melted into him, body relaxing as the tightness caused by anxiety slipped away. Worry he, for some reason, just wasn't feeling. When they parted, Y/n stabilized their breathing before whispering, "I love you too."

For a moment, time stopped. They didn't age. Nothing mattered. There was no past or future- only now. Them. Here. Together. And it always would be them, here, now, like this. And it was perfect.

I don't wanna fly in the sky, I just wanna be alone. It's not a big deal, or anything... I just wanna be alone.

The little girl squirmed until the adult set her down. The second she was able, she shot off like a rocket and began scrambling onto the playground. The man next to the adult who had originally been holding the small child sighed, shoulders sagging. "I guess I was wrong. She doesn't like it after all. She's too young."

The other adult didn't agree though, watching the small girl climb and shoot right past slides and poles and everything else she usually so adored. Until now she'd never been able to deny the pull of them, but now they seemed to mean nothing as she climbed the jungle gym with a purpose that neither adult could quite pin point the source of. Until, that is, she reached the very top. She looked at the tree the man had been pointing to only a few moments before, pulling her binoculars from resting around her neck up to her eyes. The adult that had been holding her before laughed. "Ah, wrong after all! She just wanted to get higher up to see better!"

The man was glowing. "I'm right again!" He turned his gaze to his spouse. "Will you ever get tired of being wrong about matters like this? The pull of birds is strong- to those of any age!"

"Oh, heaven, Stan." The other person's head tilted back as they laughed. The light made their skin glow and the happiness on their face reminded Stan of how wonderfully attractive his partner was. "Must you always remind me when you're right?"

Stan nodded firmly, his pride lessening as his fondness overpowered his smugness. "If I don't, who will?" Y/n hummed, eyes returning to the child as if they were actually considering it. Stan knew better though, not expecting another word for a while. The conversation had ended and a comfortable, familiar silence fell between them. Y/n leaned close, resting their head on Stan's shoulder. His arm found its way around Y/n's waist, his cheek resting on top of their head.

When the small girl returned, this time it was to Stan. She yawned and Y/n chuckled. "Think it's time for bed?" They asked Stan. He simply nodded, as Y/n had already stood and gathered things so they could go.

By the time they got home, the girl was asleep. It was Y/n who unbuckled her as Stan went inside to make sure the house was quiet and the path was cleared to allow Y/n to walk without tripping over anything they wouldn't see around the girl in their arms. As Y/n passed the living room they nodded at an enthusiastic Bill who was sitting next to Mike. Across from the two men were Ben and Richie, with Eddie leanings against the back of Mike and Bill's couch and Beverly perched on the arm of Ben's seat. Ben had a hand over Richie's mouth and no one was moving.

When Y/n was gone and they were all sure the sleeping child wouldn't wake if they were quiet enough, Ben lowered his hand. Stan crosses his arms, his glare deep even if it was tainted by amusement. "What are you all doing here? We gave you an extra key for emergencies only."

With a sheepish smile, Mike held up a chip bag that Stan hadn't noticed at first. "It WAS an emergency," Eddie piped up, as quiet as Stan.

"We needed munchies man!" Richie input. Ben nudged him- he hadn't lowered his volume. He chuckled. "Sorry." This was quieter.

Before Stan had to pretend to be mad for too long, Y/n returned. "Are you guys just here for snacks again?"

Bill laughed, covering his mouth. "Actually, we're here to kidnap you two," Bev piped up. "Ever since Laila was brought into your little family, we haven't seen much of you guys."

"Actually, we haven't seen much of each other at all," Mike sighed. "When was the last time we were all in the same room together for an extended amount of time? Your guys' wedding? That was YEARS ago."

Y/n rubbed the back of their neck. "Well, we have a kid now Mikey. We can't just up and leave her alone."

Bev slid off the arm onto her feet, hands on her hips. "I called Kay. I told you guys about her right?" Stan and Y/n nodded. "Well, she said if we can convince you guys to come then she'd be more than willing to babysit Leila, as long as you're both okay with it."

Stan looked slowly, hopefully at Y/n. He tried not to give anything away. If Y/n was too tired or not up to it he didn't want to get too excited because then he wouldn't be able to hide his disappointment and then Y/n would feel guilty- or, even worse, would force themself to go. Y/n was grinning though. "Aw I'd love that! You know I've been dying to meet this special friend of yours for a while now. What did you have in mind?" At 'special friend' Y/n winked. Bev blushed.

Richie was next to stand up. "Remember when we used to go the Quarry?"

Y/n actually giggled. "You are too old to be jumping off that cliff!" they joked. Y/n and Richie had been teasing a lot about age recently, to make it seem like less of a problem. It was easier to ignore things when you simply just laughed at them.

Richie rolled his eyes. "I am NOT. We're bigger now; it's not as tall. And we can stay until the morning and wake with the sun rise!" He said this very dramatically, making the others feel a kind of childish excitement.

Stan rubbed his hand along his partner's back. "It took us hours to convince Mike and Eddie," Bill piped up. "Honestly you'd be the worst if you didn't come."

Y/n rolled their eyes. They were convinced the second Bev mentioned Kay babysitting, wiping Leila from their worries and opening the possibility to actually have some fun. Therefore it was unnecessary for Stan to lean close and whisper, "How romantic would that be? It would be like when we were kids. Except now I can take work off tomorrow and spend my time doing something much more fun than catching up on homework." COMPLETELY unnecessary, but TOTALLY welcome and encouraged.

Grinning, Y/n nodded. "You know, it sounds like a good idea."

No one else had heard, but there was an instant reaction from the others. Ben and Mike exchanged amused expressions as Richie yelled, "DAMN Stan the Man! GET SOOOOOOME!" on the top of his lungs, causing Eddie to throw his hand over the other man's mouth, hissing quietly to remind him of the sleeping child not too far away. Y/n and Stan got ready as they waited for Kay to show up. Here, Bev energetically introduced her girlfriend finally to the people who used to be her closest friends. Her family. Who had seemed to be far away of recent.

After that, it was time to go. On the ride there - Mike was driving, Bill in the passenger seat - everyone got caught up. Bev told about the divorce from her abusive ex husband and how Kay helped her get over him... leading Bev to fall in love with Kay. Mike and Ben were engaged, but they hadn't decided on when exactly the wedding would be quite yet. Richie and Eddie were thinking about adopting, since Richie was Y/n and Stan's number one go to babysitter and Leila's presents had them both baby hungry. Bill laughed as we poked at him for being the only one of us still single, eagerly updating us on his newest novel and how happy he was just... chilling, for now.

The time at the Quarry was just as fun and light hearted. Just like when they were kids. They stripped down to boxers and bras and jumped from the top. Richie and Y/n antagonized Eddie and Stan into a dunking match, nearly killing Ben in the process. Bill absolutely refused to do a chicken fight, causing everyone to tease at doing it the rest of the time, cracking up when he'd panic just a little without fail each time. They were shoving and screaming and cursing and Y/n and Richie were insulting each other so much that the others wondered for a second if one of them was actually mad. But no. They were just idiots. Nothing unusual.

For dinner they had a picnic, and then it was time to bundle up and dry off as they watched the sun set before making a small fire and starting up dessert. There was something unearthly about s'mores amongst friends when you were all laughing until you couldn't breathe and were acting like you were thirteen.

Ben stood up to begin telling ghost stories, only to be matched by Bill, who kept adding or giving input and making it even better. The two went back and forth before Bev and Y/n winked at each other, cutting in purely to top their fairly good story telling with ridiculous dramatics. This got Richie started, which then had Stan rolling his eyes as the chaos as Mike lost his mind laughing in the background.

After they calmed down from the 'storytelling' they all got in sleeping bags. Stan and Eddie had pushed for tents but in the end the others had won out- they wanted to sleep under the stars. ("With the bugs too?" Eddie had inputted, but he was a lot more chill with things like this than he had as a child so the others didn't worry about it too much.) One by one they began to fall asleep in the quiet chatting. The day took a toll on Ben first, Mike soon following as Ben's even breathing and heartbeat got to him. Next went Beverly and then Eddie. Richie was mumbling but Bill shut him up and after a few seconds his speaking was replaced by soft snoring. It was kind of adorable that the loud Trashmouth had such a soft snore. Y/n was sure Stan had finally succumbed too, despite being determined as he lay on Y/n's chest, picking at grass.

Just as Y/n was dozing off, Bill spoke. "Anyone awake?"

"Me," Y/n hummed lightly.

Bill waited a few seconds, seeming to see if anyone else was too. No one else responded. "Y/n can I ask you some advice?"

"Of course Billiam. What's up?"

Bill snorted at the old nickname Richie had dug up again early that day, but soon turned serious again. "If you're in love with someone... well. What should you do?"

"Go for it," Y/n answered immediately. "It's so much better to have it off your chest and know the answer than waste time not being with them if they like you back, or wondering what could have been if you had spoken up. Eve if they reject you, at least you'll know."

Quiet again, for longer this time. "What if they're with someone else?" Y/n didn't respond to that for a second. "What if they're one of your best friends? And you may sort of also love the person they're with?"

Y/n smiled. "I think you should talk to both of them about it. Initiate it. Just establish that you have feelings for both of them and see how they react. I mean, you don't want to break them up right?"

"No," Bill answered immediately. Y/n imagined that his eyes were large, offended.

"I thought not. Make sure they know that. You can always move on - though dear lord that sounds so much easier than it is - but, I mean, what if's are the worst. That shit'll follow you forever."

Bill sighed. "Would you be down for a movie date with me if they reject me?"

"I'll bring the ice cream."

"I'll bring the tissue." This came from Stan, surprisingly Y/n and Bill both.

Y/n laughed. "See Bill? We've got your back."

Bill murmured a, "You have no idea how much of a relief that is."

Stan hummed in doubt. "Though, you should totally tell us who it is now. It's obviously not us, since we were your go to plan if you failed. So spill, Big Bill."

Y/n giggled. Stan smiled fondly. Bill watched them, his eyes falling slowly to Eddie and Richie. Y/n saw. They hummed knowingly and Bill looked away, blushing. "Yeah. Anyway. I'll let you know what happens."

After thinking a second, Y/n said, "I think we all had some crush or another on you at some point Bill. I'd be astonished if they didn't both jump on the idea of being the ones to win you in the end." They winked at Bill who blushed. Stan just agreed quietly, causing Y/n to laugh again. Stan and Y/n cuddled more into each other, falling asleep and leaving Bill to think.

Wherever the rest of their lives took them, they'd always find each other again. Just as they always did. No matter how long or what drama tore them apart, in the end: Once a Loser, always a Loser.

In the morning, birds woke them up. Stan was staring at them, a curious smile on his face. "Good morning," he whispered, and no one replied because they all knew he'd been greeting the birds. As they all packed up and headed out, back towards Stan and Y/n's, Stan leaned over to his partner, whispering, "You know this trip has me thinking. Maybe we should go on dates more often."

Y/n grinned. "Bird watching?"

"What else?" Stan shot back immediately, grinning.

Y/n had never been more grateful for the little, feather beings than they were now. Without them, where would they even be? Looking at Stan, they pushing possibilities out of their head. It didn't matter. They were here. What else could they ask for? What more could any of the Losers ask for?

Tag List: @campcampie @cedricisnotonfire (I can't seem to tag you but I'll send it to you!)

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