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griavian · 3 years

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the 36 questions that lead to love

x <- read on ao3

dream finds a list of questions that can supposedly lead to two people falling in love, so him and george try it out on stream. turns out, they don't really need all 36.

“Come on, George. It’s just a couple of questions.” Dream pleaded into the call, making George roll his eyes. He’s been trying to end stream for the past 15 minutes, but Dream always convinces him to go “just a little longer!”.

“36 questions is not just a couple of questions, Dream.” George glances at his second monitor to make sure his green screen was still black and to check a few discord messages. He had no intention to fall into Dream’s trap for another hour of streaming.

“But it says it’ll lead to love!” Dream says, exasperated. He googled ‘questions to ask your friend’ earlier and found a list of them that apparently lead to falling in love. To George, it was bullshit.

“That’s such bullshit.” He expresses.

“You’re no fun.” Dream’s voice lowered, and George can feel the pout Dream has plastered on his face. He can already predict what the next 12 hours would be like with Dream: silent treatment and being a general dickhead. George was used to it when they lived an ocean apart, and even found it amusing, but it was a totally different experience living with him. Dream would mope around, go into George’s room randomly just to not talk to him, and go as far as to blast sad music from his own room across the hall while George was trying to finish up some editing. Sure, it was all light-hearted jokes, and Dream would stop his act in a heartbeat if George was truly annoyed by it, but George still dreaded it.

“Fine.”

Dream immediately cheers up and starts typing on his keyboard while George watches his chat fly by, seeing a lot of emotes and positive messages.

“Okay, um- first question. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom,” Dream mocks the formality, “would you want as a dinner guest?”

George’s nose crinkles. “How is that gonna make me fall in love with you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know! The queen?”

“That’s a stupid answer.”

“What!” George screeches and Dream barks out a laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“You gotta give me a better answer than that, or else we won’t fall in love with each other.”

George rolls his eyes, but decides to think about his answer. Truthfully, he wouldn’t want anyone special as a dinner guest. “Um. My mum.”

George eyes his chat as it’s filled with “aw”s. He almost scoffs.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” George wants to punt Dream into another universe.

“Alright, who would you want as a guest?”

“Tom Brady.”

“That’s the stupidest answer ever!” George yells, his eyes wide, perhaps offended that Dream picked Tom Brady out of anyone else in the world.

“Question two!” Dream ignores, “This one is kinda dumb, but would you like to be famous and if you do, what for?”

George hums. “Probably don’t want to be famous-famous. Maybe being well-known for being the first person to invent IRL-VR. I want my body to be submerged in the Minecraft universe.”

“That’s sick. I dunno what I’d want-”

“You’re already famous.”

“Shut up. I don’t even- I don’t even want to be famous, really. I just want to make whoever knows me smile.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet, Dream.” George teases and he knows Dream waved him off. George has his habits practically memorized.

“Whatever. How about you ask some questions?” Dream sends a link on discord and George reads through them.

“There’s no way these can make people fall in love. What even is this question? Before making a telephone call, do you rehearse what you’re going to say and why?”

“Trust the process. I mean, I do that. I don’t want my brain all jumbled up, I guess. Words are hard.” Dream answers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that. I wing it.”

“That’s very you. Next question.” Something about Dream saying that made George smile the tiniest bit, made the serotonin flow through his brain.

“What’s a ‘perfect day’ for you?” George reads. It’s quiet for a moment.

“Hanging out with you,” his voice is sincere, “You and Sapnap. Recording, streaming, anything like that. What about you?”

“Hm. Me too.”

George isn’t one to show his feelings often. He remembers being asked if he did, and he answered with “not ones that matter”. It still rings true to this day. His walls are still built up and that’s okay to George. Mushy feelings aren’t important, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say his heartstrings were playing a beautiful melody during this moment.

The questions and answers fall easily after that. George knows it’s around 1 am, and he should go to sleep, but answering the questions was kind of addicting.

“Do you have a hunch on how you’ll die?” Dream reads the question with a chuckle. “That’s such a weird question to ask someone you wanna fall in love with.”

George tries not to read in between the lines.

“Heart failure. For both of us.”

“You know how I’ll die?”

“We’re Minecraft streamers, Dream. We’ll probably die at 40.” They share jokes and giggles of scenarios where they die and what they’d do, and something about it feels a bit too honest.

“I’ll die the day you die, George. Emotionally and physically.” Dream says, dramatic as ever. George only huffs, and they leave it there.

“Name three things you and your partner have in common. Dream, do you have a secret girlfriend?” They start to bicker back and forth, because of course they do.

“It doesn’t mean romantic partner, you dumbass. Like- it’s like a science partner,” Dream sighs, “Well, we do have a lot in common. We have the same job, we care about the same things, and we love each other! Easy.” Dream answers.

“Who said I loved you?”

“You literally did last night.” George had closed chat a while ago, already prepared for what was to come. He can only imagine what they’re saying.

“They’ll never believe you.” George says with a sadistic grin.

“Ugh. Okay, what are you grateful for in life? You have to answer this.” George can hear Dream get a little closer to his mic, almost anticipating George’s answer. Dream knows how much he doesn’t like to express any feelings, and probably expects him to skip the question overall. George prevails.

“You. Obviously,” and before Dream can get out an aww, George says, “You made my career, dummy, and I’m grateful for that. And my friends, family, all the normal things. Chat! I’m even grateful for chat.”

“Well, I’m incredibly grateful for you especially.” Dream’s voice is soft, almost loving. George rolls his eyes. He could’ve guessed Dream’s answer, but it weirdly hurts him when it was spoken aloud. He doesn’t know whether it hurts because it might be a fun little joke or if it’s because someone might care about him that much. George decides to stop thinking.

They answer more questions, from taking four minutes to tell each other their life stories (“There was no reason to add that detail; you’re so gross, Dream.”) to what significant quality they would want to wake up and suddenly have (“You’re already good at code shit, George. That’s the saddest answer ever.”). They move onto section two of the list, which are deeper questions.

“Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing but haven’t yet, and why haven’t you?” George asks. He knows about Dream’s unfinished projects. There’s probably a million answers to the question, and George would listen to every single one.

“Uh, well. You know I was writing a book, yeah? I was halfway done with it, and I can’t make myself finish it. It’s probably writer’s block, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” George frowned.

“You can’t finish it with that attitude, silly. You’re annoyingly amazing at everything.” George says with a snort, “I don’t have an answer to this. What did you say that one time? Your future is my future? Well, your dreams are my dreams, then.”

George cringes a little at what he said. He doesn’t know his viewer count, but knows that at least a million people will watch that clip out of context. Dream doesn’t say anything back and moves on to the next question.

“What is your most treasured memory?” Dream asks, and George immediately laughs.

“I definitely know your’s.”

“Do tell, George.”

“Our first Christmas together. Sapnap insisted on getting a real Christmas tree, and when we started decorating the stupid thing, Sapnap sees a spider and screeches. Then, our neighbors come knocking on the front door and you had to explain to them that nobody was being murdered, it was just your roommate being a big baby. And as if it could get any worse, I got tree-sap all on my fingers and clothes and you couldn’t help me because you were laughing too hard.”

“Pretty sure I almost choked on my own spit.” Dream adds, and George scoffs. “But no, that’s not my treasured memory.”

George sputters. “What? You’re telling me I told that to thousands of people for nothing?”

“To be fair, you were all soft on Christmas morning, so our first Christmas might be your treasured memory. Anyways, remember the first time you helped me with a code?” George stays silent, giving Dream the answer. “Well, that was the first time we had a real conversation. I made you laugh, then I started to laugh because you laughed, and we didn’t get the code done. It sounds dumb, but I always smile whenever I think about it.”

George’s face falters a bit. God, he just wants to hug Dream; he wants to make a beeline for his room and attack him with affection and make sure he knows that George loves him, platonically or romantically, George wants him to know.

He just can’t express it with words.

“That… sweet.” George’s eyes travel down the following questions and panics, seeing how personal the questions are. He fakes a yawn. “As mushy and stupid this thing is, I’m really tired.”

Dream doesn’t say anything. It almost scares George, but he deafens on Discord and bids farewell to his viewers, who were completely freaking out. George doesn’t blame them. He’s abruptly leaving after a sweet moment? That’s a recipe for disaster, and George knows better. Yet, he clicks the end stream button.

The door to his office swings open instantly and startles George. It was Sapnap, someone he didn’t particularly want to see.

“What the fuck was that?” His roommate whisper-yells.

George groans and slides deeper into his chair, covering his face. “I don’t know,” he muffles.

“Are you even trying to hide your feelings at this point?” He can hear Sapnap close the door and flop on his office’s couch. “You might as well buy a billboard that says ‘I’m in love with my best friend! His name is Clay!’ with a big ass picture of your dumb face beside it.”

“I know,” George whines. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about knowing. I’ve told you a million goddamn times that he’s too whipped to notice. I’m worried about the fans. They’re gonna go fucking bonkers because of this stream. Clips are gonna be shared. People are gonna speculate.”

George uncovers his face and narrows his eyes at his friend. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he deadpans.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, dude. I know you’re very deeply in love with him in the gayest of ways, but you gotta be careful in front of the fans.”

“Oh my God. I know, Sapnap! I know. I forgot we were even streaming. It felt like it was just the two of us, and I got too comfortable. And it was so nice. I can’t even do anything about it now, so it doesn’t even matter.”

Sapnap sighs and pulls himself from the couch. “You need to talk to him before this gets out of hand. You know I love ya, and that I’m here for you.” George cringes out of habit, but nods. It reads as ‘I love you too, I guess’.

Sapnap leaves without another word, and George is left alone with his thoughts. It’s not long before he sluggishly makes his way back to his bedroom. He opens the closed door, enters, and shuts it. He turns around, only to be greeted by a familiar person in his bed, and yelps.

Dream laughs. He’s wearing blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair looks messed with, and his cheeks seem to have more color to them. George can’t help but stare.

“Well? Aren’t we gonna finish it?”

George cocks an eyebrow.

“Finish what?”

“The questions, dummy. You don’t… you don’t have to. I mean, it’s kinda stupid that I want to do it in the first place, but…” Dream trails off. George hops on his bed and grins lightly.

“Go for it.”

They answer questions they skipped, like what is your most terrible memory (“My, uh, grandma. She died when I was about 14. It was… hard on me.” “Oh, George…”).

The overhead light was off at this point, the only light coming from a lamp on his desk and the stars shining through the window. The two are on their sides, Dream on the right of the bed and George on the left, facing each other, occasionally looking at their phones to ask the questions.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” Dream asks, his voice softer than ever. George can almost not answer. He doesn’t know.

“I’ve never been a super affectionate person, so I don’t know. I’ll give you guys quick hugs of course, but with really close relationships, I don’t know what to do.”

Dream looks as if he’s searching for something in George’s face, and George can’t tell what he’s looking for. His movements are hesitant, George sees.

“Do- um. You wanna maybe,” Dream pauses, closes his eyes,and scrunches up his face. “Try?”

“Try what?”

“Affection.” Dream lets out a breath and opens his eyes. “Affection is my strong suit, afterall.” His mouth forms into a teasing smirk despite his eyes showing nervousness.

“Um. Take the lead.”

It’s slow. So, very slow. Dream’s hand raises up and lands itself on the dip of George’s waist. He’s whispering instructions, and George listens. His hands are hung around Dream’s neck, and their legs are starting to tangle together. They laugh when they realize how far apart they are, and Dream pulls him closer. George can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he lays his head where Dream’s right shoulder meets his neck.

“Do you want me to ask the rest of the questions, sweetheart?” It sounded like a coo, and George is surprised at how effortless the pet name comes out of Dream’s mouth.

“Was that okay?” Dream whispers after a moment of George going still. He perks up.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Okay.” Dream pulls George closer and rests his left hand on his back. He starts rubbing up and down in slow motions.

George simply melts.

The questions and answers go by slower, and their voices become gentler. Dream announces that they’re on section three now, and to state three true “we” statements. Dream goes first.

“We… are cuddling?”

“Obviously, idiot.” George chuckles. “We are really tired?” Dream hums.

“We meant everything we’ve said tonight.”

“We are going to mean everything we say tonight.”

“You can’t just steal my answer.”

“Just do your third one.”

“We will be ‘Dream and George’ forever.”

Forever is a long, long time. And yet, Dream’s statement is still true.

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Very vague.”

“Next question, Dream.”

“Alright, alright. Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone whom I could share…’”

Without a second thought, George replies, “My emotions with. Your turn.”

George swears he felt Dream squeeze him.

“My everything with. Every single little thing. Physical, metaphorical, emotional.”

“Even Patches?”

A laugh.

“Yes. Even Patches.”

“Next question.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them and be very honest.”

“Your voice. It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Does it get you going, George?”

“Shut up. I definitely don’t like your smart-assery.” George can feel Dream lean down into George’s shoulder and smile. “I like how you act around people. It’s always different depending on the person. Different with me.”

“I like how you act around people too. You’re almost always bubbly, even though you like to say you aren’t. And, God, your laugh. It’s so overwhelming, but in the best way possible. You have no idea how many times I’ve said the stupidest shit just to hear your little laugh.” George digs his head deeper into Dream’s shoulder. “I also… really like it when you say my name. My real name.”

George raises slightly, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence. “Clay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that.”

“Clay,” George whispers.

“George.” Dream sounds weak. So, very weak. George gets closer to his ear.

“Clay.”

George can’t tell if he’s joking.

“You’re gonna kill me, George.”

George’s lips brush against the outer of Dream’s ear, and his friend shivers. He decides this isn’t a joke anymore. He thinks the invisible line they had drawn in the sand many years ago has been kicked and stomped on to the point where neither of them remembers the line being there. George goes further.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” George is still whispering, slowly brushing his lips across Dream’s jaw, and the hands around his waist get the littlest bit tighter.

George finally raises his head to meet Dream, who was a mess. His cheeks are glowing and his eyes are almost bloodshot. His breath is labored and his hands are shaky.

“Calm down, love.” George whispers and raises his right hand to meet Dream’s cheek, who leans into the touch.

“Kiss me.” Dream begs quietly, as if saying anything louder would shatter the moment in little pieces.

An adrenaline rush fills George’s veins. “Anything you want,” he says, and closes the gap.

The kiss is soft. Dream is maneuvering their bodies to be more comfortable, meaning George is pulled on top of Dream. Their lips didn’t part once.

They move together in harmony, both in the kiss and their bodies, putting everything they got into it. It was unsaid feelings and years and years of thoughts, and George felt every single one of them. George is straddling Dream’s middle and Dream is leaning up to meet George’s touch. His hands are rubbing up and down and squeezing George’s hips and George’s hands find their way into Dream’s hair. It’s perfect and imperfect and everything George has been waiting for, yearning for.

They part, and Dream pushes their foreheads together. George assumes they look dumb, but how could he care in this moment?

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Dream says, his breath tickling George’s mouth. He lets out a breath and breaks out into a smile. His hands start brushing through Dream’s hair and George backs away to get a good look. Dream is staring back.

George lunges forward and wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, sending him flat on the bed with an “oof”.

“Jesus Christ, George. A warning would be nice.”

“I love you. I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-” George couldn’t get enough of saying it. George’s dam cracked when Dream held him and fucking exploded when they kissed. He doesn’t have to hold back anymore, so he doesn’t.

“Slow down, baby.” Dream says through a chuckle. He makes George lean up with tans hands on pale cheeks and a lot of eye contact. “I love you, too.”

George’s breathing slows down to a normal, less-adrenaline-filled pace, and Dream kisses him again. George forces his head back up.

“What does this mean for us?”

“Isn’t it a little obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Boyfriends, George. We’re dating now.”

“How do you know I wanted to even be your boyfriend.” George narrows his eyebrows in faux-suspicion.

Dream’s stare is blank. “I mean. You’re- well- you know, um-”

George dismisses this shortly and confirms, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Dream sighs in relief. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” George slides off Dream’s waist and lays facing him. Dream turns as well. “Was that question the last question?”

“No, actually. There were a few left.” Dream blinks, then muses, “Guess we didn’t need 36 questions after all.”

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said and I hate you for it.”

“You wound me, George. You wound me.”

George makes up for it by letting himself be engulfed in Dream’s embrace, and feels tiny kisses on the top of his head. George nuzzles closer.

Yeah, everything was going to be fine.

#idk how to tag this but um anyways u should read this #I SPEEDRAN THIS SHIT IN 3-4 HOURS #dnf fic #dreamnotfound #dnf #dreamnotfound fic #dnf fic rec #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound

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castiel-kline · 3 years

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happy birthday @angelfishofthelord !!!

here’s Cas being Old and talking about dinosaurs to hopefully make you smile <3

---

“Hey, there you are!”

Castiel is tucked in a corner of the library when Dean’s voice startles him out of the book he’s reading. He stands up, a million things that could have gone wrong racing through his imagination at top speed.

“Dean. Is everything alright?”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, no worries. Me, Sam and Jack are gonna watch Jurassic Park. You wanna join us?”

Castiel wrinkles his nose. He’s seen stills from that movie, and those plus the references Dean has made to it over the years make it sound like an inaccuracy-riddled insult to the beautiful creatures he once watched over.

But Cas has never been one to refuse time with his family, so he follows Dean through the bunker’s halls and takes a seat next to Jack on the sofa.

Sam passes him a bowl of popcorn.

“You made it!” he says, looking uncharacteristically relaxed. It’s… nice.

“Of course,” Castiel says, passing the popcorn to Jack’s eager hands and returning the boy’s smile. He’ll enjoy it more than Cas will. He cares much more about the people than the snacks or the film, anyway.

He takes in Sam’s easy smile again, and the calm in Dean’s posture where he stands preparing the DVD. Even Jack looks toward the blank television screen in excited anticipation, despite having learned by now not to trust Dean’s taste in cinema. Jack much preferred getting to explore films on his own, and Castiel was always thrilled to be included in his late night Netflix adventures.

He clears his throat, unsure why he’s so nervous. He does like dinosaurs, after all. “So… you like this movie, right?”

“Hell yeah we do,” Dean says. “Sam and I watched it in theaters when it first came out. He wouldn’t shut up about velociraptors for months.”

“I was ten,” Sam protests, pink creeping across his cheeks. “Besides, it wasn’t even velociraptors. It was... dilophosaurus.” He’d trailed off into a barely audible mumble in his embarrassment, but it was still loud enough for Dean to hear.

“Oh, that’s right!” he laughs, eyes alight with the delighted gleam of a sibling collecting ammunition to tease with. “He’d sit in the library for hours searching for any mention of the damn thing. I always said he’d be better off with a T. Rex obsession like a normal kid, but no-o.”

Castiel leans over, nodding in Sam’s direction. “Well, I think dilophosaurus is a very good choice of favorite dinosaur.”

Sam looks surprised, and Jack, who’d been watching the conversation like a tennis match, looks to Cas directly.

“You know about dinosaurs?”

Castiel frowns, confused. “Yeah, of course I do.”

They’re cut off by Dean, who keeps talking as he’s sitting down on Jack’s other side with the remote control.

“Could’ve sworn we watched this one with you before, Cas. When we found it at that movie rental place in Minnesota, after that ghoul hunt?”

“We would’ve,” says Sam, tone caked in playful bitterness. “But you wanted to get Mars Attacks instead, remember?”

Dean looks a bit sheepish. “Hey, sometimes you need a good B movie after a day of ganking monsters. Today, though, we gotta get the kid another check off the list of Spielberg must-sees, right? Cas, too. We’ve waited long enough as is.”

Castiel has just enough time to hope once more that this movie is of a better quality than many of Dean’s other favorites, and then his thoughts are swept away by the opening sequence lighting up the television.

---

Jack enjoyed the movie immensely. He liked the scares and the way it made his heart beat faster. He liked the way Dr. Grant was so protective of the kids. Most of all, of course, he liked the dinosaurs.

He’d found a book about them the other day when he was cleaning in the library with Sam, and when Dean overheard their conversation he immediately suggested this movie.

Jack thought Cas would be just as interested in dinosaurs as he was, but the angel spent the whole movie with a frown on his face and a furrow between his eyes.

As the brothers stand up, Dean to turn on the lights and Sam to collect the empty snack bowls, Jack nudges Cas’ arm with his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

Cas meets Jack’s gaze with gentle eyes.

“I’m fine. I- I thought that the ending was a bit sad.”

Jack frowns. “How was it sad? Almost everyone got off the island.”

“That’s not…” Cas shakes his head, and takes a moment to compose himself before giving Jack a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about me, Jack. It just made me remember when the dinosaurs died.”

Shocked silence falls upon the room like a fog. Jack knows he’s gaping in disbelief, and feels Sam and Dean doing the same.

Cas glances around, taking in everyone’s surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Dude,” Dean says. “Did you… are you…”

“Were you really there when the dinosaurs died?” Sam manages, sounding strained.

Cas answers slowly, eyes narrowed. “Yes? It was very sad, but it was a long time ago. I’ve had time to mourn.”

“But you were there!” Dean repeats, dumbfounded. Cas continues staring.

“Yes, Dean, I was there.”

“I mean, what- what was it like?” Sam asks, wonder in his eyes.

“Well, um. It was hot. And fiery.”

“It was hot and fiery,” Dean says, broken record. “Wow.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you… why is this such a surprise? I thought the dinosaurs’ extinction was common knowledge.”

“Yeah, but talking to someone who saw it is… it’s amazing,” Sam says. If he wasn’t holding the butter-greased popcorn bowls, Jack is sure he would be gesturing every which way. “Why didn’t you tell us about it before?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t know that you were interested. I thought if you wanted to know, you’d just ask me.”

“Dude. We didn’t know we could ask! I mean, we knew you were older than the pyramids, but the dinosaurs? That’s, what, fifty million years?”

“Sixty-five,” chime Sam and Jack, in unison.

“Wait a minute, how old do you think I am?”

That gives them pause. Jack exchanges hopeless glances with Sam and Dean, the three of them clambering for any exact number in the recesses of their minds. Jack draws a blank, both because Cas doesn’t really talk about his past and because time is a little twisted for him to begin with.

He knows he’s almost two, and that two years is not a long time, but to Jack it feels like forever.

He knows his mother was thirty-nine when she died, and he knows Sam and Dean are hovering somewhere near forty. Cas has lived millions of years, and though Jack can’t quite wrap his mind around that vast length of time, he knows that makes Cas near eternal. Like Jack’s supposed to grow up to be.

Oddly, it’s a comforting thought.

“How old are you?” He asks it to put an end to the silence, and because he’s realized he really wants to know the answer.

Cas hesitates, brow creasing in thought. “It’s hard to say. The first thing I really remember is the tiktaalik, so I suppose that makes me…”

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes. He must know what the tiktaalik is, Jack thinks. He’ll have to ask about it later.

“Three and a half billion. Approximately,” Castiel finishes.

Jack can almost hear Dean’s jaw hit the floor.

“That old, huh?” Dean asks. His voice is strained, and he sounds faint.

“I might be closer to four billion, actually,” Cas muses.

“Okay, whoa,” Sam interjects, before Dean’s brain melts entirely. “That’s… that’s really impressive, Cas.”

“I- really?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean manages. But Cas still doesn’t look convinced, so Jack speaks up.

“You’re prehistoric!” he says. “I think that’s really special.”

Cas takes a long moment to respond, inexplicably looking younger as he processes their praise. It’s like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders- like for the first time in eons he feels like the years behind him, drenched in blood and pain and regret as they are, can be a gift rather than a curse.

Sam and Dean clap Castiel on the shoulder and take their leave from the room, the elder brother murmuring something about “antique angels” as they go.

Jack steps closer to Cas, clearing his throat.

“I, um. I found a book about dinosaurs the other day. Dean said that this movie would be educational, but… I was wondering if you could tell me about them? I don’t think I learned very much.”

“I would be happy to.” Cas smiles, reaching out to squeeze Jack’s shoulder. “This film wasn’t very accurate, anyway.”

“Really? How?”

“Well, for one thing, most of those dinosaurs didn’t even live during the same millennium. And they weren’t nearly so lizard-like. They had feathers.”

Jack responds in kind, whispering conspiratorially: “Like birds?”

“Sort of. Come on, I’ll draw some for you.”

Jack follows his father out of the room, smiling from ear to ear. Though the full scope of Castiel’s age remains far beyond his comprehension, Jack thinks it’s incredible. With all those years behind him, it’s no wonder that Cas is such a good parent.

Time is a teacher, and Cas has had a long life in which to learn. He has so much wisdom to share- and it’s not all about the dinosaurs, not because of the things he’s seen or the battles he’s won.

No, Castiel shines brighter than the most beautiful of stars. It’s a brilliance that comes from the inside out, forged through fire and pain and a heart stronger than diamond no matter how many times it’s broken.

Castiel shines with four billion years of love.

#hope you like it!#castiel #team free will 2.0 #my fic #spn fanfic #kitkat writes

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

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Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story.

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you.

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them.

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast.

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically.

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day.

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth.

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes.

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully.

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.”

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript.

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?”

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.”

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind.

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks.

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face.

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.”

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head.

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand.

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley.

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with.

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates.

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along.

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity.

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?”

“Of course.”

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.”

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her.

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says.

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock?

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.”

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else.

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese.

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich.

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way.

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records."

"What've you got?"

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts."

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long."

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart."

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?"

"Times three deposits," Riley adds.

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash."

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?”

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.”

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen.

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all.

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?"

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger.

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy.

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces.

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while.

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.”

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good.

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?”

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?”

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?”

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door.

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment.

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him.

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door.

Ah.

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine.

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.”

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction.

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated.

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing.

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning.

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her.

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter.

Harley, it turns out, is no exception.

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it.

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there.

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes.

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.”

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel.

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells.

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.”

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life.

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?”

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.”

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.”

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants.

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog.

“This is Harley.”

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.”

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it.

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife.

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.”

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic.

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway.

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch.

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that.

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that.

He can’t.

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.”

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that.

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.”

Mac’s brain short-circuits.

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing.

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago.

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing.

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion.

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.”

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.”

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.”

He is not good. He is definitely not good.

And Riley knows it.

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously.

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them.

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one.

He’s screwed.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis #mac x riley #looking through a window au

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theloneliestshipper · 3 years

Note

MLT universe: Fairly early on in their relationship Boba has to sit and listen to some other bounty hunters having a discussion about Leia’s fine “qualities”. Bonus points if he gets called out for not participating

Ged’s Cantina was falling apart. The squat building had been part of Coruscant’s undercity so long that no one could quite remember when it was built. It was not a popular place. The main bar on the street level might see two customers a night but in the cellar of the old building mercenaries and smugglers could be counted on to keep the credits flowing.

It was a good place to find work.

Boba Fett had a seat along the wall where he could watch the customers come and go. Something would turn up. Something always did.

And as long as he kept that in mind he could ignore the nagging thought that he could have taken Leia up on her invitation that morning. What started as a polite goodbye kiss ended with breakfast dishes on the floor and her on the table with her legs wrapped around him.

“I have meetings all day, but I’ll be home tonight.”

He was still inside of her, his mind half-static. She said “home” and he wanted...

Something.

His attention snapped to the Twi’lek mercenary who had just entered the cellar. Qin. His sister Xi’an was with him, as usual, and someone else. A red-haired human with boots that immediately caught his attention. And he wasn’t the only one.

“No Imps,” Shobav grunted. Shobav was the bartender in the cellar. Human as far as Fett knew, but two heads taller than average and with enough bulk to let everyone know that it was extremely unwise to piss him off.

“I’m ex-imperial,” the man shot back. “And you really think I’m worse than the rest of your customers? Look at that guy,” he continued, gesturing at Fett. “He’s not even drinking.”

“Shut up, Mayfeld.” Xi’an hissed. “Low profile, remember?”

Qin sat down at the table between Fett and the bar. “New crew member,” he said, too familiar for the bounty hunter’s liking. “He’ll learn.”

“He’d better learn fast,” Shobav muttered. “What’ll it be?”

Xi’an leaned over the bar and ran her fingers over the bartender’s arm. “Three shots of muun and if anyone from Crimson Dawn asks, we were never here.”

“You got it.”

Qin’s head tipped up towards the holoscreen mounted above the bar. “Since when do you watch the news, Shob?”

“When they’re showing something I want to see.” He slid three shots across the bar to Xi’an, who drank one immediately and delivered the other two to her companions.

The image on the holoscreen changed, a green bar announcing that it was pre-recorded content. A woman stood at a podium in some kind of open chamber.

Leia.

Fett recalled now that she had said something about giving a speech the previous day. She always had too much energy after a speech, she told him. She was happy he was there.

“That’s what you’re watching?” Mayfeld questioned. “Some lady politician?”

“Quiet,” Shobav ordered, his eyes on the screen as the text of Leia’s speech scrolled by.

“Not just a politician,” Xi’an corrected him. “A princess. And a rebel. How many of your fellow soldiers do you think she killed?”

“I told you to be quiet.” Shobav’s tone made it clear that this would be his final request. “If you can’t keep a lid on it, find somewhere else to hide.”

“Okay, okay.” Mayfeld raised his hands in surrender. “I can’t blame you for wanting to look at her. I’d like to do more than look if she wasn’t a rebel and, you know, so far out of my league.”

Fett hardly heard him. The dress Leia was wearing had braided silver cords that criss-crossed her shoulders. It looked complicated but it wasn’t, there was a clasp in the back that loosened them and made them easy to slide down the curve of her arm.

“Maybe not as far as you think,” Qin remarked, his voice low. “She likes to slum it, I hear. She was with some Corellian smuggler.”

“I’ve heard more than that,” Xi’an said slyly. “Fett knows.”

Everyone’s attention turned to him, including Shobav’s. Tension coiled in his stomach but Fett was careful to betray none of it with his movements. He tilted his helmet back slightly. “What have you heard?”

The Twi’lek stood and took a few mincing steps toward him, a teasing grin on her face. “I heard that you got a personal audience with the princess when she was the prisoner of Jabba the Hutt.”

“What?” Qin turned in his seat. “I thought you never took Jabba up on it. It was always a losing bet.”

“Not this time,” Xi’an reported gleefully. “I heard it straight from someone who lost a lot of credits. Fett kept her chained to his bed for days.”

“Shit.” Mayfeld shook his head. “That’s messed up. So? How was it?”

The chair scraped harshly on the floor as Fett pushed it back and stood. The abrupt movement caught the attention of the other patrons and the cellar went dangerously quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own enraged heart beating in his chest.

The trio at the table saw the shift at once, they were ready for a fight. Xi’an was already on her feet and her knives were never far from her fingers.

“Turn it off,” he told Shobav.

The bartender complied, keeping his hands carefully within sight. “My mother was Alderaani. That’s all.”

Fett gave him a spare nod in return before he turned to leave. He kept a close eye on the 360 display in his helmet to make sure he wasn’t followed. He walked until his heart rate slowed. The problem was that he didn’t have anywhere to go. He still needed to find some work.

He could always go back to Leia’s apartment.

A hooded figure caught his attention, a well-dressed and well-guarded woman leaving a much nicer bar. His steps slowed and then changed direction. “Lady Qi’ra,” he said as he approached the Crimson Dawn lieutenant. “I believe you have a job for me.”

#boba fett/princess leia #rebelbounty #my fic #prompt fill #*slaps roof of fic*#I can fit so many guest appearances in this thing #boba fett #qi'ra #qin #xi'an #migs mayfeld #Anonymous

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

nine months (gbd)

having grayson’s baby is a dream come true for both of you, and he does everything he can to make it the absolute best experience that he can for you

word count: 11k (hahahaha fuck)

warnings/tags: the fluffiest fluff that has ever fluffed okay, seriously I don’t think I could have made this any softer, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy things (morning sickness, weight gain, etc.)

feel free to send in requests! i’ll write most things! hope you enjoy :)

january

8 days late. You were 8 days late. A few days here or there would have you a bit edgy, but it had never been this long before. And you just had an instinct that this time, it wasn’t a scare. You were almost positive that you were pregnant. You weren’t opposed to having kids - you knew that you and Grayson wanted to be parents together, and that you were going to spend the rest of your lives together. You decided to let things run naturally, and if something happened then it happened. But something about the reality of having to go out and actually buy a pregnancy test had your mouth dry. Were you actually ready for this?

But as soon as that thought came, there was another. Grayson was going to be over the moon about this whole thing. All he ever wanted was to be a father, and you knew he was going to be amazing. He would make up for any of your shortcomings and then some. With that newfound confidence, you grabbed your purse and decided to head out to the store.

“Where yah goin’?” Grayson’s voice came from the dining room table where he was working as you tried to scurry past him. You hadn’t thought of an alibi. Were you supposed to tell him? No. You didn’t want to get his hopes up if your instincts were wrong.

“Just running to the store. Cause I need some stuff. From the store.”

Fuck. Nice one.

“Okay....” he trailed off, obviously suspicious. “You alright?”

“Yep, perfectly fine. I’ll be back soon, love you bye!” You blew him a kiss and escaped out the door before you said anything else damning.

This was going to be interesting.

Your fingers were tapping away on your steering wheel the whole drive to the local drug store, trying to think of what the hell you were going to do. Should you surprise him? Plan out a big elaborate thing? Or maybe you should just tell him? Should you have told him you were going to get a test? But what if it was negative? He’d be so sad.

With your head spinning, it was a miracle you even made it to the store. But you pulled in and headed to the aisle you never needed to go to, grabbing a few tests and going to pay for them, trying to convince yourself that no one was staring at you. The cashier offered you a soft smile and it actually calmed you down slightly as you headed back to the car.

In order to make it a little less suspicious, you decided to get some coffee and bring it home for the both of you. You didn’t have to pee yet, and you knew you’d go crazy at home if you had to wait, so you went to your favorite local shop and got your usual along with Gray’s and Ethan’s.

The drive home was quick, but you chugged it as fast as you could, wanting it to hit you before you got back. You stashed the tests under your shirt so that Gray wouldn’t see, and tried to walk as casually as you could back into the house.

“I brought coffee!” You called out. If you directed the conversation, then maybe you wouldn’t get blindsided and give something away.

“I thought you were going to the store?” Gray asked. He was still in the same spot at the kitchen counter, and when you looked at his screen he was working on some new promotional posts for Wakeheart. Good. That would keep him busy.

“They didn’t have what I needed, figured I’d get some while I was out,” you smiled, passing him his cup. He leaned up towards you, asking for a kiss. You gave him a quick one before going to throw your cup away.

“You already drank yours? You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls in about 20 minutes,” Grayson teased. He knew how you got with too much caffeine.

“I already feel jittery,” you laughed. It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t from the coffee - you’d actually gotten decaf, remembering somewhere that caffeine wasn’t good for babies. You walked back to the room you and Grayson shared, not realizing until you got there that you still had Ethan’s coffee in your hand.

It didn’t matter, if you didn’t take the test right then you were pretty sure you were going to explode. So you sat the drink down on the desk, locked yourself in the bathroom and pulled the two tests out from their hiding places.

Peeing on a stick was just as awkward as you thought it would be, but you were proud that you got it on the first try.

And now, you just had to wait. Three minutes had never taken longer in your entire life, you were sure. But, you’d made sure to buy the tests that would clearly say one way or the other so there was no guess work. You tried to keep yourself calm, foot tapping as you watched the seconds click by on the timer you set. In just a few minutes, you were going to know if your instincts were right.

By the thirty second mark, you were hovering over the tests, watching the electronic bar load, flashing on the final stage. And then, the first one turned, revealing one word.

Pregnant.

“Holy fuck.”

You’d known. But now you knew. And holy shit. You were actually pregnant. The second test turned then, yielding the same result. There was no denying it.

The butterflies in your gut were overwhelming and you sunk to the floor, a hand going over your tummy. There was baby in there. And it was Grayson’s baby. You felt like you could scream, or cry, or explode.

“I’ve gotta tell Gray,” you mumbled to yourself. You wanted to do something special, but you also knew that there was no way you were going to plan an entire elaborate reveal - you’d break and tell him early. Something simple, something quick, but still something Grayson...

It clicked. Building. You immediately started searching on your phone for what you needed, deciding that you’d use his projector to put it on the wall. But should you film it? You didn’t want it to be a production deal, but a larger part of you wanted to have the footage of such a special moment. And you wanted it to be good quality, but you didn’t know how to work a camera for shit.

You needed Ethan. You quickly stashed the tests in a bathroom drawer and reached for your phone, pulling up your texts with Ethan.

Come to Grayson’s room, don’t be suspicious, bring a camera, don’t ask questions

You knew he would be confused, but you also knew that he would do it. You got excited all over again when you thought about telling Ethan the news. He was your best friend - hell, he was your brother, and you knew he was going to be over the moon for you.

It wasn’t five minutes later when he snuck in, closing the door and looking at you in confusion.

“What the hell is going on? Are you pranking him? Because if you are I so want in,” Ethan grinned. He was already filming - you wondered if you looked as wild on camera as you felt.

“Oh jesus please don’t make him think this is a prank. E, I need you to set up that camera so that you can see this wall with the projector. And then I need you to leave and not ask me any questions.”

If he started prying, you knew you’d tell him, and you’d feel terrible that Grayson wouldn’t be the first one to know.

“Okay... are you alright? You’re acting weird, you’ve got me a little worried.” Ethan frowned a bit, concern on his face.

“I promise I’m fine. And I’ll tell you what’s going on as soon as I can. I swear,” you said, offering him the most reassuring smile that you could muster.

“I’m holding you to that,” he muttered, setting up the camera in a good place and making sure it was recording before heading back to his room. Once he was cleared out of the room, you pulled up the picture you wanted onto the projector.

It was a wooden crib, simple but cute. And it would serve its purpose, which was all that mattered. Once you had it as you wanted, you turned the projector back off so you could pull it up at the right time. Then, you grabbed one of the positive tests and hid it in the waistband of your shorts.

Trying to keep it together, you poked your head out of the door, willing yourself to do your best acting.

“Hey Gray?” You called out.

“Yeah baby?” From the sound of it he was still in the kitchen.

“Can you c’mere for a sec?”

“Comin’,” he responded. You felt like your legs were going to give out. Your whole lives were about to change in the next few minutes. He came in casually, rubbing at his hair. “What’s up?”

“Well. I wanted to ask you if you’d do something for me,” you said. He quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms. He was suspicious, but that was bound to happen.

“Okay....”

“It’s nothing bad, it’s just that I don’t know how to build it, but I think that you’d do it really well,” you explained. He relaxed a bit at that, leaning into you a bit more before wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Well now I’m excited. Show me,” he grinned - you were glad you’d picked this as the way you’d tell him, he got so excited about building.

With a deep breath, you turned on the projector, the picture of the crib popping up. You looked up to watch his face. As you expected, he was immediately confused.

“What even is that? Is that a bed?” He let go of you, moving to the wall and looking at it even closer. “It looks like a crib, with all the bars on the sides and stuff.”

“Yeah, I know it’s complicated. But you’ve got about nine months to get it done, so no rush or anything.” You were beaming, just waiting for the moment it would click.

“9 months? Why would I need 9 mo-”

You watched the realization come across his face, his mouth opening slightly into a little ‘o’, and then his expression turned to disbelief. Any of your nerves faded away as you realized this was all you ever wanted - having a kid with the man that you loved more than anything. You relaxed fully, trying to take it all in.

“No. No fucking way. No way.”

“Yes way,” you laughed.

“You are not. Is this a prank? Are you pranking me?” He was frozen to the spot he had turned at.

“I wouldn’t prank about something like this.”

“You’re pregnant? You’re actually pregnant?!”

“We’re having a baby,” you exclaimed, reaching for the test and pulling it out where he could see. That got his feet moving, and he only had to look at it for a second before he had his arms around you and you were both spinning around. You weren’t sure you could remember a time where you were happier.

It was good that you knew Grayson would never drop you because suddenly the two of you were sinking, and you realized he was sitting down on the floor, squeezing you to him in the tightest of hugs. It took a minute for you to register the wetness on your shoulder, and when you pulled back slightly, you realized that Grayson was crying.

“Oh baby, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry!” It was too late - you were already tearing up, but both of you had the biggest smiles across your faces.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so fucking happy right now. This is all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, voice cracking a little bit. You pulled him back to you, and the two of you rocked back and forth together, bodies close. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; neither of you knew, or cared.

Grayson was the first to speak up, and the questions started flowing.

“Have you told anyone else? When did you even find out?! Do we need to go to a doctor? Oh we definitely need to take you to the doctor.”

“Relax baby, I just found out like 5 minutes before I told you, I went to the store to get tests cause my period was late. We’ll get an appointment made, I already have a gyno. And no, I haven’t told anybody.”

“Holy shit. So just you and me know? I gotta tell Ethan! I gotta tell my mom!” He was already shifting, starting to stand up. You let him lift you, but you caught his hand.

“We should probably wait until we go to the doctor and get everything checked out before we tell everyone,” you cautioned.

He looked a bit puzzled. You hated to damper his mood even a little bit, but you weren’t ready for the whole world to know about a pregnancy that seemed so fragile to you. It clicked for him, and he immediately put a hand to your stomach, fingers splaying out over soft skin.

“You’re right.” He nodded his head, still looking down at your stomach in awe. There was an unspoken question that you knew he was biting his tongue on.

“We’re definitely telling Ethan though, for sure. Like right now,” you smiled. Grayson looked up, beaming.

“Oh thank god, there was no way I could keep this from him.”

“I have an idea,” you grinned, explaining it to him quickly. He agreed that it was perfect, and went to get the camera that had been recording the two of you so that he could capture this too.

You went over to the long forgotten coffee that you’d brought home for Ethan. It was cold now, but you could microwave it. You grabbed a sharpie from the desk, scribbling what you wanted on the cup before taking Grayson’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. You popped it in the microwave - it wouldn’t be great, but that wasn’t really the point - and Grayson set up the camera. Once everything was done, you and Grayson exchanged a giddy glance before setting it into motion.

“Ethan! C’mere!” You called out.

“What do you want!?” He yelled back in his typical I-don’t-wanna-get-up tone.

“Just c’mere real quick, I forgot to give you something!”

Grayson was giggling next to you, trying to keep it together.

“Alright, I’m comin’,” he called out, and a few moments later he was in the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“I forgot to give you your coffee earlier, here,” you smiled, handing him the cup. He took it gratefully, though he was giving you the when the hell are you going to explain earlier look as subtlety as he could with Grayson still in the room.

“Dude, what does your cup even say? They totally spelled your name wrong,” Grayson said, unable to wait any longer for his brother to notice. Ethan held the cup up a bit so he could read the writing on the side.

Uncle Eteeweetee

“Haha very funny, eteeweetee, you got me.” He rolled his eyes, taking a sip.

“Wait, what exactly does it say?” You asked. Grayson was giggling beside you.

“It says ‘uncle eteeweetee’, which is just fucking stupid.” He looked a bit peeved, knowing he was missing the joke. “What? What’s so funny about Uncle?”

“What if I told you that the big news I couldn’t tell you earlier was that you actually are an uncle? Or at least, you will be in about nine months.” Now you were beaming. Ethan figured it out immediately, sitting the coffee cup down.

“You’re joking. No fuckin way, are you joking? You’re pregnant?!”

You nodded, and before you knew it he had you wrapped up in a hug. You squeezed him back and then let him go to his brother. They held each other tight for a minute, and though their words were a bit muffled you caught the end of it.

“I’m so fuckin’ happy for you bro. You deserve this,” was what Ethan said, and you couldn’t have agreed more.

february

Oh you were definitely pregnant. Even without the tests, or the doctor’s visit or the missed period, you would have been 100% sure by now. This had become your morning routine, and you hated every minute of it.

Right around 6am on the dot you’d wake up, a thin sheen of cold sweat on you and a churning in your stomach. You threw yourself onto your feet, running towards the bathroom and immediately hurling up anything you had left in you. Usually it wasn’t much, and that somehow made it worse. Your throat was sore from the bile morning after morning. It usually took you a good twenty minutes to get everything up, and another five after that for your stomach to settle.

Each morning, at the feeling of you leaving the bed, Grayson was right behind you. He’d hold your hair back with one hand, other hand gentle and soft as they rubbed over your back. You knew how much he hated being around people throwing up, but he never even flinched.

When your stomach would finally empty, you’d come down off your knees onto your butt, leaning your weight back against him.

“This shit sucks,” you said one particular morning, fully exhausted.

“I’m sorry baby, I wish I could fix it,” Grayson murmured, kissing your temple.

“I feel disgusting,” you grumbled, turning a bit and nuzzling into his neck.

“You wanna shower?”

Usually, you weren’t a morning shower type of person, but between the vomit and the sweat, it had become normal as well.

“Too tired,” you said, curling up into him. The fatigue was real these days, and you occasionally felt bad for being so lazy. Grayson would have none of it, reminding you that not only were you growing body parts with your body, but you were also still doing more than Ethan was on the daily.

“I’ll do the work. C’mon pretty girl, let’s get you cleaned up.”

And he really did all the work, from stripping you down to washing your hair and body, then drying you off and handing you a toothbrush.

“I’ll get some clothes while you brush,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he disappeared. You were grateful for the minty taste in your mouth as he came back with a pair of his sweats and a t shirt. You let him pull the shirt over your head before you spoke.

“I don’t understand how I can be this fucking tired,” you muttered as you put your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself as you stepped into the legs of the pants that Gray was holding out for you.

“Fatigue is really common during the second month, it’s supposed to get better by the third though, so hopefully it won’t last too long,” he offered in reassurance. You smiled at that - he’d been listening to any podcast he could get his hands on related to pregnancy and parenting. It was the cutest thing, and every time you thought about it you started to tear up.

“Hey, hey, why we cryin’? What’s wrong?” His thumbs were wiping at your cheeks - it was like an instinct now since he had to do it at least once a day.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad,” you blubbered, leaning into his shoulder. You felt him chuckle a bit and you crumpled. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to. You’re just cute.”

You groaned. “Cute. Right. I’m grumpy, lazy and gross. Not cute.”

“You’re none of those things. Well, you’re kinda grumpy with Ethan, but so is everyone.”

It was true - you’d been very grouchy lately, especially with Ethan for some reason. The cute things he usually did to make you laugh got under your skin like no other, and you’d snap at him, which would in turn make him sad, which then made you feel guilty and ended in tears every time without fail. Ethan was a great sport about it, always accepting your teary apologies and teasing you nicely about the hormones, but you still hated not feeling in control of your emotions and yourself.

Knowing it would only be worse if you didn’t get any sleep, you stumbled your way to bed and climbed back under the covers. Grayson climbed in next to you, opening his arms so you could lay on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your back as you drifted back into exhausted sleep.

march

You stood in front of the mirror, hand rubbing gently across your belly. There was definitely a bump there starting to form, and it mesmerized you every time you thought about what was within it. It was tiny. Anyone else looking at you wouldn’t notice, or would think it was just a big breakfast. But you knew that it was your baby, growing away.

And you loved your bump, but Grayson was even more obsessed - any time you were sitting within reach of him his hand was across your stomach. Though he wouldn’t admit it, you knew part of it was protective. He’d become very cautious since you’d found out about your pregnancy, always making sure you were safe, not letting you do anything too ‘strenuous’. You’d had to get him to back off a few times, assuring him that stirring pasta wasn’t going to cause the baby any stress.

He’d been even more worried when you and the boys took a flight home to Jersey so you could tell Lisa and Cameron the good news. All through the airport he was right next to you, hand around your waist guiding you through the terminals.

“Grayson, flying is only dangerous if you’re like... super pregnant. Like might-deliver-on-the-plane pregnant. We’re fine.” You reassured him.

“We?” His face softened at that. It was the first time you’d really referred to the baby and yourself as a unit. It was a nice feeling - you were finally starting to get back to normal, and feeling like yourself. The morning sickness had let up, only about once a week now. Ethan didn’t piss you off any more than normal. You were still a bit weepy, but that was to be expected in some ways.

The biggest issue now was your cravings. They were so intense, way more captivating than you thought even possible. When one hit, you couldn’t think about anything else. And the worst possible place to get one? A plane.

“Gray. Grayson,” you whispered to him over the hum of the airplane engines.

“Hmm?”

“I want a soft pretzel. Like I need one.”

“Like you want one or you’re craving one?” He’d learned to differentiate between the two with all your wild food preferences these days.

“Craving. Craving so hard.”

“Well that’s a new one. I brought some of your other cravings just in case, but not gonna lie, didn’t bring a soft pretzel with my snacks. Do you want any of these?” He gave you a sympathetic smile and showed you the stash of snacks he’d brought for the 5 hour flight - lots of the candies you’d been craving, peanut butter, chocolate.

“Thank you, but for some reason thinking about eating any of that is making me nauseous,” you scrunched up your nose.

“What!? You ate like 20 twizzlers yesterday alone!” He looked a bit exasperated, but you just laughed and rested your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay baby, not your fault. Guess we’ve got a picky kid. Oops.”

The rest of the flight went without event, and when you went to go pee after you got off, Grayson found an Auntie Anne’s in the terminal and brought you back the biggest soft pretzel they had. You hummed as you ate it, wiggling a bit in excitement considering you were pretty sure it was the best thing you had ever tasted in your entire life.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” Grayson teased, taking your bag from you so you could fully enjoy your snack as you walked through the airport.

The drive to the Dolan household was about an hour, and you napped through most of it, head on Grayson’s lap in the backseat - the fatigue was fading, but it wasn’t fully gone. He woke you up gently as Ethan turned into the driveway, and you felt the excitement mounting. Not only were you getting to see Cameron and Lisa, but you were getting to tell them the news. You were finally comfortable with more and more people knowing, though you didn’t want it out on any social media.

When you came in it was three straight hours of hugs, smiles and stories, and there wasn’t even a lull in the conversation where you could have said something. Besides, this was Grayson’s family, so you wanted him to be able to make the big reveal anyhow.

He’d decided on a scavenger hunt that Ethan helped him set up; you stayed with the girls and feigned your innocence, which almost backfired completely.

“You seem different Y/N. Did you get new makeup or something?” Lisa asked, giving you the same suspicious look that Grayson often did.

“Um, yeah, yeah I got a new bronzer that I’m trying out.” You went along with it, hoping that if you somehow looked different she would attribute it to that.

“I thought so. Your skin is glowing!”

“Awe thank you!” You smiled, trying not to seem nervous. You’d heard of mother’s intuition, but damn. Luckily the boys returned then, sending their sister and mom on the hunt around the house. It took about 15 minutes, but finally they ended up with the card that had your most recent ultrasound photo in it.

Lisa blubbered for a good thirty minutes, all the mixtures of emotions about becoming a grandparent coming out. She held her youngest son close for so long, and you gave them their moment by explaining all your pregnancy woes to Cameron, who was beyond excited to finally become an aunt.

The trip only lasted a few days, but you enjoyed spending the time with Grayson’s family and watching him relax and recharge. When it was time to go and the boys were loading the rental car, Lisa pulled you aside.

“I know pregnancy can be really hard, so you just call me if you need anything, okay? Any questions, anything you need. I’ll fly out any time you need me.”

“Awe thank you Lisa,” you smiled, giving her another hug.

“No, thank you honey. You’ve made my whole family so happy, I can’t thank you enough.”

april

“I give up. I literally give up, I’m never leaving the house ever again.” You threw the shirt across the room, plopping down on the bed in defeat. Grayson spun his chair around, one ear of his headphones already off. He’d been editing, but heard you grumbling.

“What’s the matter love?”

“None of my clothes fit! I’m huge!”

“Well first off, you’re not huge. Second, you’re growing a fricking human, so yeah your tummy is gonna get bigger. Do you want me to find you a shirt of mine?” He offered, trying his hardest to console you. You’d been pretty good at avoiding the meltdowns lately, and he wanted to keep that trend going.

“No. I don’t wanna wear your stuff.”

“Baby. You ask me for my clothes like, every day,” he reminded you.

“Yeah. But I like having the option of wearing my clothes,” you pouted, looking at your discarded top on the ground.

“Okay, well then why don’t we go shopping tomorrow and get you some new clothes. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. You didn’t love the idea of having to buy new clothes in bigger sizes, but you knew you’d have to do it eventually.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gray smiled, patting his thigh. You obliged, climbing onto his lap. His hand went to your bare thighs, rubbing circles. “You’re beautiful, you know that right? Even when you don’t feel like it, I promise you that you are.”

You blushed at that, knowing better than to argue with him. Instead, you just kissed him, fingers gentle on his cheek.

“I love you,” you smiled against his lips.

“I love you more. Why don’t you go take a swim, I’ll come out as soon as I finish this edit.” His suggestion was a very good one - the fourth month of pregnancy was mostly nice, but you were starting to get sore, especially your back and hips. The best relief you could find was in the pool, and you’d never been more thankful to live in California.

You kissed him one more time before getting up and pulling out a bathing suit. He cheekily watched you change with a few side glances, making you blush even harder.

The pool water was inviting, and you swam around for a while trying to loosen up your muscles. Then, you climbed onto a float and drifted off into a nap. A nap that was ended quite abruptly by cold water being splashed at you.

You peeked an eye open and all you saw were red shorts.

“Rule number one Ethan. Never wake the pregnant lady,” you grumbled.

“I know I know, but I got you something! Look!” Ethan was beaming when your eyes finally adjusted to the sun. You had to look closely to realize that it was a pool float in his hands. Specifically, it was an avocado pool float.

“Awe, thanks E!” Even if you didn’t really understand the gesture (you had plenty of floats), you still appreciated it.

“It’s a pregnancy one, see!?” He exclaimed, pointing out the picture on the box. Sure enough, it had a hole in the design. “So once your bump gets like, huge, you can still lay on your tummy and then your bump is like the pit!”

He had such childish excitement that it was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You could feel the baby fluttering around in your tummy a bit as you giggled - you’d been feeling them move around some lately, though it wasn’t enough for Grayson to feel externally yet.

“Well, if I try to blow it up I think I’ll pass out, but I wanna see what it looks like!” You grinned. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, sitting on the edge of the pool and putting his feet in while he unboxed the plastic, finding the plug and beginning to blow it up.

You watched the process, which took a good while, but it was worth the excitement on his face when he stood up and held the giant avocado up.

“That thing is huge! How much did it even cost!?”

Ethan was known to spend too much money on things that no one really needed.

“Doesn’t matter, happy momma happy baby, and since I did it, happy baby means I’m the favorite uncle.”

“I think you already win favorite uncle E, but I’m sure the baby also loves the float,” you smiled as he blushed. Though he wouldn’t admit it, you could tell he was a bit nervous at the idea of becoming an uncle. Grayson was always the brother who took over when it came to kids, and Ethan felt a bit behind in that department, but you knew he was going to be great.

“Here, come try it out!”

You waded over to the edge of the pool by Ethan, who was holding the float steady at the edge. You took his other hand and he helped pull you up. And when you laid on your stomach, you realized just how uncomfortable the other float had been.

“Holy shit, this is nice E. Thank you. You should come hang out for a while, I feel like I haven’t seen you in like a week.”

“Lemme get changed,” Ethan smiled, letting go of the float and heading inside. It wasn’t often that you got to hang out with just Ethan anymore. He was your best friend, and you were grateful for such a strong friendship that had eventually led you to being friends (and then more) with Grayson. It was like having the best brother-sister relationship that you could imagine, with the teasing and the caring perfectly balanced. You were so excited to see him be an uncle to your kid that it wasn’t even funny.

When he came back in his swim trunks, he had a bottle in his hands. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Sunscreen, you’re getting pink on your back,” he explained, walking into the water from the stairs and coming over to you. He put some in his hands and starting rubbing it on your back. The groan you let out wasn’t voluntary.

“Ew gross, wrong twin,” he teased. You flipped him off.

“Shut up, my back’s just sore, it feels nice,” you explained, relaxing.

“Still sore huh? That sucks dude.”

“Yep, you know just trying to make room for a human in here and shit,” you chuckled. He finished putting it all on and stowed the sunscreen on the edge of the pool. The two of you talked for a while, about work and Wakeheart, new video ideas and Ethan begging for the fiftieth time for you to let him buy the baby clothes already.

But as he was pleading his case for the baby needing a matching outfit to his, he realized that you had drifted off back to sleep. So he pulled the float over to the side of the pool, using one hand to scroll his phone and the other to push and pull it back and forth to create a sort of rocking motion that would keep you asleep.

When Grayson came out ten minutes later, he was a bit confused at the sight. Ethan immediately turned and put a finger to his lips.

“She’s out,” he explained. Grayson smiled at that - as much shit as he could give his brother sometimes, he really did have the biggest heart.

“Thanks for taking care of her man, I’m done with the edit I can take over,” he offered. Ethan brushed him off.

“Go take a nap or something, I’ve got this.”

Though he would never admit it, he really did like taking care of you. So Grayson let him, going to catch up on some sleep on the couch with a smile on his face.

may

“You okay baby?”

You frowned, wondering why he’d asked. Then you noticed that your knuckles were white where you were clinging to his hand. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous - it was just another ultrasound scan. Maybe it’s because of what you were finding out.

“I’m alright, just nervous. I can’t believe we’re finally finding out if it’s a boy or a girl.” You brought your other hand to your bump, rubbing gently over it. You already felt connected to the little human inside you, but the thought of knowing something else about them made you feel even closer.

“Then we can finally start shopping,” he smiled, bringing your hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

Your OB came in then, ready to begin your scan. You watched in awe as she moved the ultrasound head around, searching until a perfectly clear picture of your baby popped up. You watched their little heart flutter while Grayson watched in awe.

“Everything looks perfect, they’re growing great, got a good amount of fluid in there to swim around in. And if we can get them to turn just a little bit, I should be able to let you know if it’s a little mrs. or mr. in there. Are you all wanting to find out the sex today?” The doctor wasn’t looking at either of you, eyes focused on the screen as she spoke.

“Yeah, we wanna know, if you’re able to see.”

“Alright, well they seem pretty active so we should be able to get a good view here in a minute. Some babies start to wiggle when mama does something, is there anything you do that makes them move around more?”

“They move when I laugh, or when Grayson talks to them.”

Grayson blushed a bit at that. You’d told him over and over that when he talked to your baby, they moved around. He would talk to them every night, hands splayed across your belly, just waiting for some type of kick. And though you could feel them inside, he had yet to feel anything.

“Why don’t you give that a try Grayson, see if they’ll move,” the doctor encouraged.

Grayson was obviously nervous to be put on the spot - he was only used to doing this in the comfort of your room at home. He cleared his throat, leaned in close to your belly, and started to speak.

“Hey baby, it’s daddy. I know you’re probably really comfortable just chilling in there right now, but we need you to move just a little bit. Not too much, but maybe just towards me a little bit. I know, I know, it’s a lot of work, but you’re tough, you can do it.”

You loved the way he talked to your baby, so sweet and adorable. You were enthralled with his words, almost forgetting where you were.

“Well, it looks like you two have a got a major daddy’s girl on your hands,” were the words that pulled you out of your trance. You hadn’t even felt the baby turn.

“Girl? We’re having a girl?!” Grayson’s eyes were wide, and he had the biggest smile on his face as he looked at you.

“Looks like it. Congratulations guys! I’ll give you guys a minute and go get some of these stills printed, then you all are set to go!” The OB wiped the gel off of your tummy and gave you a warm smile.

As soon as the doctor left, Grayson pumped his fist in the air in excitement.

“I was gonna be happy either way, but I was totally pulling for a girl,” he admitted. He was beaming - you’d always known he wanted a daughter so badly.

“And apparently she’s already a daddy’s girl. I’m in trouble,” you teased. You held your bump with both hands, looking at it in a whole new light. “Hi baby girl. Momma loves you.”

june

You knew that this day would be hard; even harder than it had been for Grayson the last few years. So you weren’t all too surprised when you woke up to an empty bed.

Your back was stiff as you crawled out from under the covers, and you gave yourself some time to stretch and put some sweats on before heading out to the living room. You saw the silhouette of him through the glass doors.

Grayson was in the backyard, sitting on the patio couch, staring out at the view of LA. You decided to give him a few more minutes alone, going to make the both of you a cup of coffee (yours unfortunately decaf).

You made sure to make a little bit of noise when you opened the door, not wanting to startle him. He turned, relaxing when he realized that it was you. His eyes were puffy and red, and you knew it wasn’t from allergies.

“Hey,” he said, throat obviously tight. “How’re my girls?”

“We’re alright. Just wanted to come check on you, see if you needed anything.”

There wasn’t much you could say to make him feel better. Father’s day would always be very bittersweet for him.

You’d thought about getting him a card, or a small gift that was ‘from the baby’, but you knew that the day would be so laden with emotions that you’d rather not potentially make it worse.

You passed him the coffee as a comforting gesture, and he gratefully took it.

“I can give you some more alone time if you need, I just wanted to see if you were alright,” you offered, giving him a soft smile. Sometimes he preferred to let his emotions out by himself, and you respected that.

“Stay please. And thank you, for the coffee.” He patted the seat next to him and you sat down, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He leaned into you, and it wasn’t long until the shaking started. It was like the sobs were being ripped out of him, and it physically pained you to see him hurting. You did all that you could, pressing kisses to his skin and holding him as close as your bump would let you until the tears finally started to let up.

You wiped away what was left on his cheeks when he sat up to get some air, and he laid the weight of his head in your palm, obviously exhausted.

“I just miss my dad,” were his only words, and you swore you felt your heart crack right down the middle.

“I know baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I have so many questions for him, about being a dad, and raising a daughter. And I know he would have been so excited to be a grandpa. I wonder if he would have wanted her to call him grandpa, or poppy. And now she won’t even have one,” he said, a fresh batch of tears coming to the surface.

“He’s still her grandpa baby. I know he’s not here, and god I wish he was. But she’s gonna know about her poppy Sean, and what an amazing person he was. We’re gonna tell her stories, and show her pictures, and she’s gonna see all of his best qualities in you. You’re going to be an amazing dad, because you had an amazing example.” The words came spilling out of you, just like the tears came spilling down for both of you.

Coffee cups discarded somewhere close by, he took your hips in his hands and pulled you onto his lap. He buried his face in your neck and you held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. When he moved up to your shoulder, you felt him press a few kisses to your skin - a silent thank you.

“You really think I’m gonna be a good dad? You’re not just saying that?” His voice was muffled against your skin.

“I honestly think that you’re going to be the best. And I’m not just saying that, I swear.”

“But why? Why do you have so much faith in me? I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I. I’ve got motherly instinct to go on, and some babysitting, and that’s it. And I know you think you have no idea how to take care of a kid, but I know that you’re going to love her, and you’re going to protect her, and those are the most important things you can do. You already love her so much,” you explained.

There was an odd sensation in your tummy just then, and you gasped at it. It was new, a slow dramatic motion, and as you looked down you could actually see your skin moving. The movement tracked down the top of your bump and towards your belly button, which was pressed against Grayson. You didn’t have to ask - you knew he had felt it.

“Was that...”

“That was all her,” you assured him. You recognized the feeling as her stretching, but you realized quickly that it was the first time he’d actually felt her move. His hands moved to spread across your bump, the sadness that had been on his face now replaced with awe.

You both watched closely, waiting to see if she would do it again. You felt it first.

“She’s moving, she’s moving again, right here.” You took his hand and moved it to the right place, just in time for him to feel her kick. He looked up to you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit! I actually felt that! Does she do that all the time?”

“She’s been doing it a lot more lately. Guess she’s trying to make more room. I swear, she really does move around a lot more when you’re talking to her.”

Something about his voice made her decide to do flips all the time. Most the time it was fine, though sometimes it would be a bit sharp if her little feet or elbows found a rib. You’d never tell him that though - watching his face light up was worth any kick.

“Hey baby girl. Whatcha doin’ in there, huh? You showin’ off?” His voice softened every time he spoke to her, and your heart softened with it. On cue, she kicked again, right into his hand.

“No way! That’s so cool! Does it hurt?”

“Not unless she catches an organ or a bone,” you teased, loving how excited he was, and grateful that he was finally getting to experience this. It went on for another hour, both of you enthralled to see how she moved.

“I think she’s saying happy father’s day,” you said at one point, not thinking it through. But to your relief Grayson was beaming proudly at your words.

july

You spotted the glitter from across the store, and immediately started shaking your head.

“No. Absolutely not,” you protested as the boys approached you. Whatever it was in their hands, you weren’t going to let them buy it.

“But baby, look. It has ruffles on the butt,” Grayson explained, holding it up. It was a bright pink glittery onesie, that did indeed have ruffles on the butt of it.

“I am not putting my daughter in that.”

“I mean, Gray and I both want it. So technically you’re outnumbered,” Ethan countered, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well I’m growing her butt with my own body, so technically I get to decide that I’m not putting ruffles on it,” you mocked, eyes narrowing. He backed off, knowing better than to mess with you.

“What if we got one that wasn’t so bright? They have non-glittery ones,” Grayson offered. You always softened up when he suggested things, and looking at how small the newborn clothes looked in his hands had you in a puddle.

“Non glitter would be... better.” You said, still a bit suspicious.

It wasn’t that you were totally against girly clothes - you just thought all the baby boy clothes were so much cuter. Who wanted unicorn onesies when you could get some with jungle animals, or sea creatures? You’d found yourself wandering over to the boys section more and more, picking out little hoodies and things with simple patterns.

Grayson took you to the ruffle butt section, and you had to admit the ones in more neutral colors were quite cute. You picked out a few with him, and then it was like his eyes glazed over.

“Oh my god,” he said, head falling back a bit before coming back up to a pout he only got when he saw something too adorable. You followed him over to the sundress section where Ethan was already holding up a tiny little dress with sunflowers on it. Even you had to admit, it was adorable.

“I love it, but she’s due in September. I don’t want her to be cold,” you sighed, hand going to your tummy. You’d started to feel more and more protective of her recently.

“We’ll buy her a little jacket or something.”

You weren’t surprised that the next 30 minutes (and $300 most likely) were spent in the dress section. You decided to let the boys have their fun - you knew you’d be the one dressing her more often than not, so you could put her in whatever you wanted.

When you got back home, you headed to the nursery, which was really starting to come together. The boys were putting in so much work to make it perfect, and it made you so happy. There was a crib that Grayson had built, and tested about twenty times as well. You’d assured him that it didn’t need to hold 200 pounds, but he was very proud that it passed the test of him laying in it.

“What if she gets scared and needs me to sleep in there with her!?” was his main argument for that one, and you couldn’t fault him.

They’d painted the walls a dark gray with a few pops of light purple. There was a changing table and dresser built by Grayson as well, though right now you were focused on the closet as you put her clothes away.

“I can’t believe she’s gonna be here in like, two months,” Grayson mumbled as he hung a tiny dress up on a hanger. He was moving the delicate straps by pinching them with his fingers, which was somehow more adorable than the dress itself.

“I know, it’s crazy. Not gonna lie though, this bump is getting a little heavy. I wouldn’t mind her getting here a little sooner,” you sighed, leaning slightly to try to relieve some pressure on your back. Standing all day in the stores had your ankles swollen and your back screaming.

“Hey, I got this. Why don’t you go lay down, I’ll give you a massage when I’m done okay?”

You balked a bit at that. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him - he was perfectly capable of unpacking baby clothes. But your nesting instincts were coming in hard these days, and you were very particular about anything nursery or baby related.

“I...”

“Color order, and separate it by type of clothes and sizes, I know. Onesies in the drawer, plain on the left and cute on the right. Plus, you’re probably going to rearrange it all next week anyways.” Grayson reassured you, checking all the boxes you didn’t even have to say.

“You’re the best,” you smiled, standing on your tip toes to kiss him - the bump was getting in the way these days.

“I know,” he joked. “Now go lay down.”

You did as he said, and he was unsurprised to find you asleep in bed when he got back a mere twenty minutes later. The sight of you curled up on your side, cradling your bump, made him smile.

He helped get you changed into pajamas - you grumbled a bit as he moved your limbs, but you didn’t wake all the way up.

Then, he moved to your ankles, rubbing at the puffiness to try and get it to reabsorb - he’d looked up the best massages for pregnant women months ago, but they were really starting to come in handy now. By the time he got to your back, you were humming at the sensation, somewhere between dreams and bliss.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. Grayson wasn’t sure if you even knew you said it.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your bump. “Anything for my girls.”

august

You’d resorted to pool noodle violence, seeing that you were quite slow even in the water. You brought it down as hard as you could on Ethan first, then on Grayson.

“Enough!” you yelled, exasperated. The boys stopped in their tracks - they’d been wrestling and bickering about something for a while now, and you were annoyed. Not because they were arguing, but because the baby was doing all sorts of flips and kicks to the sounds of their voices. She had always responded to Grayson’s voice the most, but apparently Ethan’s was similar enough that he got the same response. Which meant them arguing was actually quite painful.

“If this baby kicks me in the ribs one more time because of you two, I swear,” you grumbled, rubbing over your sore stomach.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting,” Ethan apologized, giving you a look of sympathy.

“Sorry baby,” Grayson sighed, coming over to the edge of the pool where you were. It didn’t matter what you did these days - you were just uncomfortable. Your bump was huge, and you felt like a whale day in and day out. It was making you grumpy, and you hated it.

“No, I’m sorry. She just won’t stop kicking. Like girlfriend, you’ve gotta chill out,” you gestured to your bump, making both of them chuckle.

“You be nice to your momma, so that she’ll be nice to your uncle E,” Ethan said to your bump. “Oh my god, I wonder if she’s gonna get us confused.”

“No. She’s gonna know exactly who I am,” Grayson argued, a bit peeved.

“What if she likes me better?” Ethan prodded, trying to get more of a reaction as he often did.

“Hey. She’s still trying out for the world cup over here, whisper if you’re gonna talk,” you grumbled, pressing on the side of your bump to try and soothe the pain. Grayson’s hand replaced yours, rubbing soft soothing circles.

“I bet she’s kicking cause she thinks you’re annoying, like her dad does,” Grayson retorted, smirking a bit. It would have been a good comeback if he didn’t have to whisper it.

“I’m gonna be her favorite, cause I get to be the fun uncle,” Ethan countered quietly with a wicked smile.

“You both have useless nipples, therefore I’m pretty sure I’m going to be the favorite for a good 6 months at least,” you chimed in, defeating both of their arguments. “Now then, I’m getting pruny, I’m going in.”

Before you could protest, Grayson had already pushed himself up and out at the edge of the pool, coming to help you up. He wasn’t letting you out of his sight for even a second these days. He was afraid you were going to go into labor and he wasn’t going to be there.

The closer your due date got, the less worried you were. It confused Gray - he figured you’d be anxious about the delivery, the labor, all of it. But you were just excited to meet your little girl. You both hadn’t picked out a name yet - all you knew was that you wanted it to be strong, and have meaning. You were going to wait until you saw her face to fully decide.

Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize that you’d made the turn into the nursery instead of into your room. It was a bit hard to believe that you were going to have a baby of your own living in here in just a few short weeks.

“Do you wanna go back through your hospital bag and make sure we have everything?” Grayson’s voice came from behind you.

You shook your head with a soft smile.

“Oh. Do you wanna rearrange again?” You could tell he was a bit more hesitant on that one - you’d asked him to move the furniture around at least twice already this week. You couldn’t help the hormones, but you did feel bad for him.

“No, I think it’s perfect. Just picturing her in here,” you explained, taking his hands in yours.

“How are you not freaking out? Are you not nervous at all?”

“A little I guess. But I’m more excited,” you smiled.

“I’m terrified,” Grayson admitted a bit sheepishly.

“What’s got you so worried?” You wanted him to talk about it, mainly so you could try to figure out a way to help.

“I just want everything to go smoothly. My delivery didn’t go well, and I don’t want anything to go wrong with ours. Plus, I really, really, don’t wanna see you in pain. That’s gonna be really hard.”

“I’m pretty tough,” you teased, trying to address the only thing that you could actually comfort him about.

“Hell of a lot tougher than me, I know that for sure. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For carrying our kid. I haven’t thanked you enough for the sacrifice of it. You’ve given your body up for so long, so thank you.” He was looking down at your bump now, hands rubbing over the skin.

“Best thing we’ve ever done,” you smiled, pulling him closer to kiss him, though you both had to lean a bit. “Though I’m not gonna lie, it’ll be nice when I can actually kiss you normally again,” you teased.

“I’m pretty sure the baby will be stealing most of the kisses from me,” Gray said.

“Not all of them,” you assured him, leaning to kiss him again.

september 3rd, 3am

Grayson had passed behind you at least ten times. You watched him in the mirror with a bit of a smirk. You were brushing your teeth, breathing deeply through your nose as a contraction started.

“Are they close together? Oh god, I’m supposed to be timing them, shit, okay, hold on,” he mumbled, heading back towards the room again. You caught his hand, holding him there while you spit out your toothpaste and rinsed your mouth.

“Baby. Relax.”

“Relax? How are you so calm right now!? Aren’t you like, contracting?” His eyes were wide, panicked. You knew the only way to get him calm was to stay calm yourself.

“I mean yeah,” you shrugged. Right now, it was no worse than bad period cramps. You weren’t going to freak out - waking up to your water breaking wasn’t exactly your plan, but you were more excited than anything.

Grayson packed the car while you brushed your hair, and he came back in to walk you to the car. He held your hand for the whole drive, bringing your intertwined digits up to kiss the back of your hand any time you tensed up with a contraction. There was luckily no traffic at 3am, and the drive to the hospital was easy enough.

Ethan was at home, in charge of letting everyone know that it was time, and getting Lisa and Cameron when they made it into town. So it was just you and Grayson, and you loved it, even though he was freaking out.

You got checked in and taken up to your room. Grayson was at your bedside, hand in yours from the moment you got settled with your IV. The nurse was sweet as she came in to give you your first exam. It wasn’t comfortable, but you hadn’t expected it to be.

“Well momma, look at you! Already 4 centimeters dilated! If you keep up this pace, you’re gonna be holding that baby girl in no time! Around what time did you say that your water broke?”

“Around 2:45 this morning,” you said.

“Wow. You really are moving along quickly, especially for a first time momma. I’ll come check you again in about a half hour, and we’ll see how you’re feeling okay?”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you offered her a smile as she headed out.

When you looked back over, Grayson’s eyes were on your face.

“Looks like things are gonna go pretty smooth,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him, just trying to make him laugh. He smiled, shaking his head.

“You’re insane,” was all he could say.

“Hey, I told you I was tough! And I’m sure it’s going to get a lot worse from here,” you reminded him.

“I was fully prepared for you to be screaming in pain. And you’re just here, hanging out like nothing’s happening!” He was exasperated.

“Screaming isn’t really my style. Well, I guess it is sometimes,” you winked at him.

“You are not making sex jokes right now.” He had the biggest smile now, which was all you wanted. Another contraction hit then, low in your back. You sucked in a deep breath, squeezing on Grayson’s hand as it came through. You breathed your way through it, trying to get a rhythm down that you knew you could keep going. They’ll pass. They come and then they pass was going to be your mindset for the rest of the time.

And it worked. Each time a contraction came you closed your eyes and breathed deep, focusing on the sensation of the air coming in your nose and out over your lips. The only other sensation you were willing to acknowledge was Grayson’s hand in yours, his lips on your forehead, the sweet encouragements he was whispering in your ear.

And they got worse. Much worse. The nurse came and checked you often, reassuring you that things were moving well. It was a few hours later and you were already at 8 centimeters.

“I haven’t seen a first time mom move this quickly through labor in a long, long time. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” the doctor said when she checked you.

“But that’s okay right? It’s not bad that it’s going fast right?” Grayson was immediately concerned.

“No, no problems at all. Less time in labor means less stress on mom and baby, so better all around. You’re a natural Y/N, I’ll give you that,” she smiled. “I’d say we’re gonna be pushing in the next hour or so.”

“Sounds great.” You gave her a soft smile, trying with all your might to be pleasant. Your hips were on fire, like you’d been holding a wide squat for the last 3 hours. You knew it was just everything widening, but damn did it hurt.

“You’re doing amazing baby, you’re so strong.” Grayson’s words came at the right time.

“I think I’m ready to be done now,” you laughed a bit, and it was the first time you’d felt any self pity the whole time. But you were tired, and you knew that pushing was supposed to be the worst part of the whole thing. You weren’t sure you were as ready for that as you thought you were.

“I know baby, I wish I could make it better. But you’re gonna have your daughter in your arms so soon, and it’s all gonna be worth it,” he reminded you. His face was laced with sympathy as he leaned in to kiss you.

It was enough encouragement to help you through, though you weren’t as quiet as you had been. Each contraction was longer, and closer together now. You were groaning a bit at the pain, trying to keep it under control as you had before, but it was getting harder.

The time crawled by, and you shed a few happy tears when the doctor came back in and told you that it was time for you to push.

It was a bit of a blur from there, all guttural instinct and people counting and breathing. The only anchor you had was Grayson, who kept himself in your view the whole time, encouraging you and letting you know you were close, that it was almost over.

And then you heard it. A loud cry, a bit of a gurgle at first, and then clear as day.

Your baby girl was here.

The nurses were wiping her off just a tiny bit, and then she was there in your arms, on your chest.

“Hi baby girl, hi sweetheart,” you cooed, wrapping her up in your arms. The tears were streaming now, and you looked up at Grayson. He was crying too, a look of pride and happiness that you’d never seen on his face before.

“Congratulations, she’s beautiful! Dad, you wanna cut the cord?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grayson’s voice was rough as he moved to help, cutting the cord where the doctor’s clamped it off. You were mesmerized by your little angel’s face - she had Grayson’s nose and lips, you could tell already.

“Hi pretty girl, it’s momma. Welcome to the world,” you said, running a finger over her tiny nose.

“Alright momma, you catch your breath, we’re gonna get her cleaned up and swaddled okay?” The nurse gave you the warning before going to take her off your chest. You let her, and then you looked at Grayson. He was obviously torn, looking between you and your daughter.

“Go, go with her,” you encouraged him. You relaxed back into the bed, body spent entirely, but eyes wide open as you watched what was unfolding, trying to ignore everything that was happening with you, from delivering the placenta to the clean up.

They weighed her first - 6 pounds and 2 ounces - and then you watched as they wrapped her up and put a tiny hat on her head. The nurse turned and placed her in Grayson’s arms. His eyes went wide for a moment in nervous panic, and then he settled as she fit perfectly in his arms. His tears flowed freely as he looked down at her in awe.

“Hi precious. It’s daddy, yeah, it’s daddy,” he cooed, and you swore you’d never been more in love with him in your whole life. He walked slowly back over to you, leaning down and lowering her back into your arms. You scooted over as best you could, and Grayson got the hint, helping you move over with his free arm and climbing into the bed next to you.

You took her in your arms like you’d done it a thousand times before. She was peaceful there on your skin, content and happy. Her eyes opened a bit as you held her close, Grayson’s hand behind her head.

“She’s perfect. You did so good,” Grayson praised, running a thumb over her soft hair.

Gazing at her face, you knew that the name you’d secretly been considering was perfect.

“Bailey. I wanna name her Bailey. After you. And I want her middle name to be Shawn, after her poppy. We can spell it s-h-a-w-n, or s-e-a-n, either way,” you said, looking up at Grayson.

His tears were enough of an answer.

“Bailey Shawn Dolan. I love it. It’s perfect,” he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. You weren’t sure how long you sat there with them. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that there was much to come. Ethan, and Lisa and Cameron would be there soon. There would be more nurses, a lactation specialist, doctors. But right now, all you could do was watch little Bailey breathe, and be grateful for the perfect little family that you had.

#this took me FOUR FUCKIN DAYS #it was a labor of love #haha get it #ANYWAYS #pls give me feedback i will love you forever if you tell me what you thought :)#lynds writes #grayson imagine #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #grayson imagines

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whootwhoot · 3 years

Text

»»—— 𝘛𝘛𝘛𝘊 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 2: "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘴" ——««

Akaashi Keiji x Fem! Reader

author’s notes: holy shit im so sorry for the not posting in such a long time ;-; i had stuff i needed to clean up + i was lazy- anyways this is the second chapter for my first long fic “Third Times The Charm” sorry for the delay ^^ compared to the previous one this one involves more conversations since im not good at writing movements lmAO enjoy uwu

☕ synopsis: Iwaizumi Y/n, a student who goes to Aoba Johsai as well as the second year manager for the school’s male volleyball team. What happens when she sets eyes on the cute setter from Fukurodani?

[ CHAPTER 2 - First texts ]

“Oh shit.”

Your phone screen fades to black as you sit there biting your lip. Baffled by how stupid you were, you slam your face into the pillow next to you.

“You had one chance, one chance and you did what? You forgot about it, your stupid brain forgot about it. Are you kidding me?”

You let out a loud groan as you sit back up, the bed sheet wrinkles while you release that breath of air you’ve been holding. Your hands wandered around your phone’s keyboard, too nervous to reply but too anxious not to.

Akaashi seems like a genuine guy, he doesn’t show off or boast about himself. He’s just always there, the way he smiles when he successfully makes a perfect set, the way his delicate hands toss the ball, his eyes only focusing on you…

“Y/n! Get a grip! What are you even thinking?!” a couple more groans and turns on your bed and you are more awake than before.

Honestly you never expected a reply from him at all. Sure, the idea of that crossed your mind, maybe more than several times but the thought of it actually happening? There’s no way.

“It’s like my brain short circuited somehow.” you whisper while sitting up, leaning against the headboard of your mattress.

Maybe the impression of you from your previous lover affected you more than you want to admit. “You’re annoying.” “Undeserving of love.” “No one can even stand a clingy person like you.”

Your vision turns blurry as you feel cold tears gently running down your face. You wipe them away, hoping to erase the emotions bubbling up inside of you away too.

The insecurities you try to push away seem to have formed a wall, a never ending wall that just stacks higher and higher. Just when you thought you have gotten over it, the tiniest shard of the most fragile moment can make you fall back down again.

The creaking sound of your room door makes you jump as your brother peeks his head inside your room.

“Haji? It’s 2am you, you should be sleeping!”

“You didn’t close the lights in your room so I thought I’d check up on you.”

“Your eyes look reddish, are you okay?”

You lift your shoulders in a shrug, Hajime comes into your room and stands right in front of you and folds his arms.

“Is this the older brother's lecturing time?” you ask while raising your eyebrow

“And for the record, I’m fine. You don’t have to-”

“I think I do.” Hajime stares at you intensely

“You should've gotten over that jerk ages ago.”

“I know, I know” you release your breath and repeat the sentence he once told you “The first love cuts the deepest, but not every cut leaves a scar.”

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know but just… what makes you think I deserve love?”

“Iwaizumi Y/n, you are my sister. No one knows you better than I-”

“DOUBT! THERE’S NO WA-.”

“SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH.”

You laugh in amusement while Hajime licks his lips as his mouth forms a small smile.

“Ok but the point is, you’ll find someone who’ll love you as much as you love them eventually. No one in the world is undeserving of love.”

You rest your chin on your palm while eyeing and slyly grinning towards your brother.

“Eww since when have you learned to be so cheesy?”

“It’s called quality love advice, you should try them sometime.”

“YOU DUMBASS”

He ducks just in time to avoid the pillow you flung at him.

“Stop yelling or the neighbours are going to hear you!”

He continues to laugh while rushing to the door. He stands at your door and gestures his hand at the light switch.

You grab your blanket and nod your head while laying down, the bed softly creaking causing him to chuckle. Hajime closes the lights and leaves your room quietly.

His warm words hang around in the cold room as you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Thanks Haiji-nisan.”

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Hello, it’s me 😓

The girl who was randomly texting you last night

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

No reply

You furiously type on your phone while staring at the screen intensely in hopes that he sees your messages.

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I forgot about that photo 😓 😓 , I'm sorry if it seemed weird or uh rude

And uh i just hope that maybe we can get to know each other

Unknown:

Okay.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

Okaayyy he replied, so that’s a good sign… right?

Biting your lips, you place your thumb on the phone to prevent the screen from fading and eventually closing.

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Soooooooo I’m Iwaizumi Y/n 😇 😇

Unknown:

Akaashi Keiji.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“God damn it, he’s such a conversation killer.” you mumble under your breath

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I’m from Aoba Johsai!!

Akaashi:

You’re the spikers younger sister? Iwaizumi?

Y/n:

Well duh 😂

Where are you from?

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You ran your hand through your hair, cringing at how hard you're trying.

Maybe you could just tell him, you know like “Hey hot stuff, I think you attracted me with your stunning good looks so I want to date you.” you mock while pointing finger guns at the mirror.

Just then, the familiar ringtone of your phone notification rings and you scramble to see who it was.

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Heyyyyy, you got the text yet?

Y/n:

Yeah

El is best girl:

Daaaaaaamn I take it you're disappointed that it wasn't him who appeared on your notification? 😔 😔

Y/n:

NO NO NO OF COURSE NOT

I love texting you 😘

El is best girl:

Awhh save it lmAO

Did you text him back?

Y/n:

😤 He’s not giving anything to work with here

El is best girl:

Pshhh I mean just ask him how his day was or like

At least try to keep the conversation going

Y/n:

I'M TRYING

LIKE 😩

REALLY HARD HERE

El is best girl:

lmAoOOOO

Y/n:

HOLD UP HE JUST TEXTED ME

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You hurriedly press into your chat with Akaashi

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Akaashi:

I’m from Fukurodani.

Y/n:

Isn’t that just a few minutes away from my school 😮 ?

Akaashi:

I think so.

Y/n:

Cool

Anyways

Um how was your day?

“Akaashi is typing”

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“I can’t decide if he’s typing really slow or he’s sending a long text…” You decide to place your phone down and doodle on your papers while waiting for his reply.

----

“Bokuto-san, she asked me how my day went.”

“Don’t reply to her anymore! Let her wait for you to text back, it builds a sense of mystery.”

Bokuto suggests while winking.

“Bokuto-san it’s not really nice to leave people on read.”

“Akaashi, I’m the ladies man, listen to me and your love life this time wouldn’t end like the last two.”

Akaashi can’t help but grin at his confident “wingman”, it’s no secret his past relationships were… well not that good, but to ask for Bokuto for help?

“But-”

“Hey you were the one who asked for help when a girl texted you.” “Plus, didn’t you find her cute too? The short girl manager watched our match at camp.”

“What?”

“You were staring when she wasn’t looking, and after the first time you saw her from the bus you were trying to get to know which school bus it was.”

Akaashi’s jaw almost drops at his friend's observant nature that he didn’t know existed, apparently when it comes to love Bokuto isn’t as… well, dumb, as he seems. He tries to form words to deny Bokuto’s accusation but he can’t seem to find a reason to do so.

“Also just play hard to get, girls love a challenge.”

“...” “Maybe I’ll wait a little longer before I reply to her.”

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Um Akaashi? 😅

Uh 😅 😅

You know, if you’re not interested in talking to me you could’ve just said so

Akaashi:

Sorry I was busy, I had volleyball practice.

Y/n:

OH I’M SO SORRY

I didn’t know you have practice on weekends ;-;

Akaashi:

It’s all right.

Y/n:

Anyways how’s practice^^ was it fun?

Akaashi:

Yeah, it was like usual.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“HE’S” “SUCH” “A” “DRY” “TEXTER” “AAAAAAAAAAAA”

You scream inside your head while holding yourself back from banging your head on the table.

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Do you think we can maybe, meet up? 👉 👈

Uh 😶

Akaashi:

Date?

Y/n:

NO NO 😲

I mean we never met of course not haahahahaha

Akaashi:

Meeting up just to get to know each other then?

Y/n:

Ah yes that’s it, like a gathering

If you don’t mind

Akaashi:

I’ll see if I’m available.

Y/n:

Cool! Is next Sunday fine?

Akaashi:

We’ll see.

Y/n:

...

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Wowww playing hard to get huh

He sure is a tricky one

Y/n:

I don’t think I like where this is going

El is best girl:

It lowkey kinda ruins the impression you have of him huh

Ah well

It’s probably his first time or something

Have a little hope 😔

Y/n:

Well

I have one week to prepare

HAVE FAITH 😍 😍

El is best girl:

Hell yeah

Any thoughts on where you’re taking him

If you don’t I mayyyyy have suggestionsssssssss

AHHAAHAHAHAHA

Y/n:

God damn it El

We’ll just be talking okay

I do have a place in mind though

El is best girl:

Go on

Y/n:

You know the ice cream shop? At the street?

El to is best girl:

Ohh an ice cream shop

Very intriguing 🥺

Don’t tell me it’s because of that article

Y/n:

I mean

El is best girl:

LMAO you

You seriously believe you can tell someone’s personality by their favourite ice cream flavour?

Grow a brain Y/n

Y/n:

You’re one to talk 🙄 🙄

Anyways I’m off to prepare dinner for tonight

El is best girl:

Owh Iwaizumi-kun teaching you to cook again

Let’s hope you don’t bring the kitchen down with you okay dear

Y/n:

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends

El is best girl:

Nah it’s simple really

You looooooooove me uwu

Y/n:

Go away

El is best girl:

😳 😳 😳

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

- end of chapter 2 -

« masterlist / previous / next »

(author’s end notes: i hope yall enjoyed this lmAO its pretty long ^^ anyways im writing their texts from y/n’s POV so the nicknames she gives her contacts might change owo)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi scenario #iwaizumi hcs #haikyuu x y/n #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji fic #akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji #hajime iwaizumi #akaashi fluff #akaashi fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations

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blueeyedgeorgie · 4 years

Text

Close My Eyes(2)

I close my eyes and I make believe You’re the one that’s holding me…

Pairing: WillNE x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k+

Pronouns: She/Her

____________

"You really want my honest opinion?“

Will and Y/n sat side by side in front of his desk as YouTube had been pulled up on his computer screen.

"Yup,” Y/n gave a small nod as her eyes watched the screen scroll down through Will’s homepage.

"I think you’re being a bit harsh on Gaby. She was just trying to look out for you,“ Will stopped scrolling and looked to Y/n.

"Was I just being bitchy?” Y/n let out a small sigh.

"Well, I wasn’t there so I can’t decide that for you. But from what I’ve heard, I’m just assuming you were just being a little bit sensitive,“ Will gave a small shrug, looking back to his computer screen.

"Maybe it was just the engagement butterflies,” y/n replied. Will didn’t say anything, all he could do was focus on refusing to allow himself to cringe.

After a few moments of looking for random videos to react to, Will and Y/n had decided to watch a couple of 90 Day Fiance videos. With a lineup of five videos, Will turned on his camera and began his usual intro.

"Right, Hello! How’s it going? Welcome back to the-“

Will had only just begun his intro when a soft tug came from the top of his head, pulling the black beanie off his head to show his messy bed head.

Will looked to Y/n, seeing the girl place the beanie on her own head. "Yeah, so I plan on wearing this for the entire video.”

"Oh, okay-“ Will had paused, his voice cracking. Y/n let out a small laugh. The butterflies in Will’s stomach had only increased from her laugh. ‘God, you’re gorgeous.’

Will cleared his throat before he began to speak again, "Alright then, but you’ve just exposed how lazy I actually am.” Will had motioned to his hair, which seemed to never have met a hairbrush in its life.

Y/n merely stood up and walked out of the room.

"N/n? Where you going?“ Will called after her, turning in his seat.

Y/n didn’t reply, only to walk back into the room moments later with a hairbrush in hand.

"Did you go into my bathroom to find a hairbrush?” Will let out a playful scoff.

"Yes, now shush,“ Y/n smiled, turned the brunette back around to face the camera. For what felt like forever, Y/n had brushed out Will’s hair, fixing it up. While y/n was busy with that, Will had opened up a new window, pulling up Instagram. Soon enough, Y/n had finished up and sat back down next to her dear friend.

Will looked into the screen of his camera, seeing himself. "Holy shit, Y/n… it looks great.”

"I know,“ Y/n gave a nod as she watched him.

"Anyways, today we have y/n here to watch some good ol’ 90-day fiance,” Will immediately went back into his intro as Y/n gave a small wave to the camera.

The pair had ended up watching the first two videos on big Ed.

"Big Ed honestly scares me quite the bit,“ Y/n had spoken up just as they had finished the third video.

"I can understand why,” Will chuckled. “You’re a gorgeous young lady, Ed here would probably come after you telling you to shave your legs.”

'Did I just call her gorgeous?'

"Yo-“

Before Y/n could continue what she was saying, she had been stopped by the sound of her phone ringing. Everett was calling.

"Sorry for not turning off my ringer… do you mind if I take this?” Y/n let out a small sigh.

"It’s… it’s alright, go ahead,“ Will gave a small shrug, pulling out his own phone.

Y/n had left the room, only to walk into the hallway as she picked up the phone.

"Y/n, where are you?”

Y/n sucked in a breath as soon as she heard her fiance’s voice. He was clearly very upset. “I’m hanging out with… Will. We’re working on a video together.”

"Are you joking?“ Everett quickly shot back, "if he posts a video with you in it, how will that make me look? Like a fool. My fiance is hanging around other men and not even bothering to tell me of her whereabouts.”

"I’m sorry, Ev. Will’s just a friend, nothing more,“ Y/n let out a soft sigh as she leaned against the wall.

"I want you to come home right now. Just the thought of you hanging around him annoys me. You could be cheating on me at this very moment and I could never know,” venom was laced in Everett’s voice as he spoke.

"Well, if I could just finish the video with Will and he post-“

"Just come home, Y/n. Like I told you,” Y/n’s fiance had finally snapped, slightly raising his voice. Y/n flinched, pulling the phone away from her ear.

"Alright, alright… I’m on my way,“ Y/n had quickly hung up, walking back into Will’s bedroom.

Will turned in his seat to look back at Y/n, "You ready to film again?”

"I’m sorry, Will. I have to go… Everett needs me,“ Y/n bit her lip.

'I really don’t want to go. I just want to waste the day away filming with you.’

"Oh… okay then… Do you want me to walk you back to your car?” Will replied. There was some type of emotion on his face that Y/n couldn’t properly read.

'Please don’t go back to that jackass. Stay with me.’

"No, it’s alright,“ Y/n gave a small shrug. "You should get started on refilming… or just continuing the video we had already started filming."

'There’s nothing more I’d like than having you walk with me. But I don’t want there to be any chance someone spots us and Everett gets mad.’

"You sure?”

'I honestly don’t think I could be in the mood for filming once you leave.’

"Yeah… I’ll see you later.“

'God, I wish I could stay.’

"Yup, have fun with your fiance.”

'I fucking hate him.’

Y/n let out a small giggle, “I’ll try to.”

'Please make me stay.’

With that, Y/n headed out of the room still wearing Will’s beanie, her smile fading as soon as Will could no longer see her.

A week had passed by since when Y/n and Will had tried to film a video together. Anytime Will had tried to text or call Y/n, she’d only end up texting back something that wasn’t even a full sentence and she’d never bother to pick up. This had only made Will much more stressed than he had to be.

"Maybe she’s just been busy lately, Will,“ Alex had pulled Will out of his thoughts as soon as he mentioned 'she’.

Will was on a Discord call with the other Eboys, they had just been chatting about whatever came to mind and future plans for the Eboy channel.

"Yeah, busy fucking her fiance,” Will let out a dramatic scoff.

"Will, calm down. I told you that she’s probably just in love with the idea of love. She’ll get over Conway before the wedding even comes close to happening,“ George had commented.

"Wait, I’m actually confused here. Is there something going on between Will and Y/n?” James added on. James being James, he had never realized that Will had been crushing on his best friend, while both George and Alex had figured it out quicker than they should have.

"Will had been crushing on Y/n since forever,“ Alex summarized.

"Wait, and so you never told me Will, but you told both George and Alex?” James had asked his second question.

"No, they had just found out about it on their own,“ Will let out a deep sigh.

"I… I actually think you and Y/n would look cute together,” James had merely given a shrug even though the rest of the boys couldn’t see him.

"Same here,“ George had claimed after James had finished up talking.

"I honestly think all of us think that’s the pair of you would be a good couple, Will,” Alex had also pointed out.

At this point, Will had been listening to his friends while he stared at the iPhone he held in his lap. Y/n’s texts had been pulled up. He scrolled through, rereading their conversations.

"Honestly, I think you should just say fuck it and tell her how you’re feeling,“ James spoke.

Will looked up from his phone to his computer, "Are you kidding? She’s engaged, James. She’d reject me right away and everything would be awkward between us.”

"Well, at some point you’ll have your chance, Will,“ George let out a sigh.

Will only shook his head, looking back to his phone.

'Should I tell her?’

“Okay so, welcome back to the Eboys channel. Today I’m with-obviously the rest of the Eboys,” George had begun speaking to his camera. The boys had decided to film another video of the Eboys channel. Will had let out his usual laugh of joy as George had done the intro. “Please say hello.” At the same time, James, Alex, and Will had ended up waving to their cameras, let out their ‘hellos’ in different tones. “And today, we’ve done a green screen challenge. Now, who wants to explain what a green screen challenge is?” George had quickly finished his intro, beginning to speak about the topic of today’s video. “Probably you because you’re doing the intro mate,” Will had responded. Just as he spoke, his phone buzzed. Y/n had texted him. N/N: Proud to say I still have your beanie. A small smile came across Will’s lips as he quickly typed back; 'Jokes on you, I have plenty more.’ “Yeah, I think you should do it,” James commented, pulling Will’s attention back to the video. Alex had let out a slight wheeze from James as Will continued his laughing. “Basically, what we’ve done is we’ve recorded ourselves in front of our green screens, sent the footage to each other and basically come up with whatever we can,” George had tried to be quick once more in explaining what was going to happen. “Good explanation, George,” James had smiled to his camera, dramatically clapping. “I’m not good at explaining things but-” “So like the screen is like green and you like get rid of it,” Alex had cut George of, mimicking him in a snottish tone. Soon enough the boys got into reacting to each other’s videos and of course, some of them they absolutely could not put into the actual video. The rotation of who’s videos they’d watch first had gone from Will, who had made his videos quite chaotic in the best ways possible. Alex had gone after Will, his videos had been much more low-quality editing compared to Will’s but they were still hilarious. It was now James’ turn, and of course, all his videos had been more much darker than what the others had expected… except for one video. Will was on screen with a giant smile, “Hi, I’m WillNE. And this turns me on.” Behind him was a photo of Y/n. Will had turned red as soon as the video had played. Each member of the Eboys beside him was laughing. George had even fallen out of his seat. “I don’t think we can even put that video-” “Of course we can!” Alex had cut Will off in between his wheezes, “the internet knows Y/n.” “I-” “If you want to keep the video in say 'I’,” James had cut off Will. All three of the boys had quickly said their 'I’s’ before Will had gotten the chance to intervene. “Alright, looks like this clip will be staying in the video,” George had finally ended up back in his seat, readjusting his glasses. “Fans are gonna be wild about this one,” James added on. Immediately, Alex and George had gone back to laughing hysterically. For what felt like forever they had known about Will’s crush, and to have a video like this online was gonna end up making the fans go even more wild about shipping Will and Y/n than they had already been. “Let’s just pray she doesn’t watch this video,” Will let out a long breath, glancing at his camera with a worried look in his eyes.

Y/n found herself laughing along with the boys as she had gotten to the video of Will saying that she turned him on. Soon enough the boys had ended up posted the Green Screen video and of course the boys had stayed with their word that the video of Will would go into the final cut. Y/n had scrolled to the comments as the video continued to play, seeing all the different comments. (Ship name) IS ENDGAME I guess we’re all going to hell for laughing at James’s edits If Will and Y/n don’t end up together I will literally kms George kinda hot doe Will not wanting the video of him saying Y/n’s hot is such a sub move Y/n giggled to herself as she read what the fans had to say. “Maybe I should just leave one comment…” She found herself typing away for a second or two before she had finally hit the 'comment’ button. WillNE being turned on by Y/n L/n? This is some real tea boys Y/n had found herself replaying just the small bit of Will saying she turned him on. Why? Oh, she had no clue. Maybe she was just intrigued? But whatever it was, Y/n didn’t want to stop hearing Will say that about her, even if James was the one who had ended up editing it. “Darling, what are you looking at?” Y/n had flinched, shutting off her phone just as she had heard her dear fiance. He was standing behind her as she sat on the couch of their living room. “Just watching some YouTube,” Y/n had given a small smile. “Oh really?” Everett moved to sit next to her, “what exactly were you watching?” “Just a Memeulous video,” she gave a small shrug. “May I see your phone please?” Everett placed his hand out expectantly as his beady eyes stared at her. With a small sigh, Y/n had handed her phone over. Without hesitation, The raven-haired man had opened her phone. He had to know her password, she wasn’t allowed to keep her phone locked away from him. As soon as the phone unlocked, the video had begun playing again. 'Hello, I’m WillNE and this turns me on.’ Everett’s grip on the phone tightened. “This is the type of videos you enjoy watching?” His voice had deepened, “you enjoy watching your male friend say that he’s sexually attracted to you when you’re engaged to someone?” “Everett, it’s not like that-” “Then explain to me, Y/n!” Everett had snapped angrily, pushing the phone into Y/n’s face. “Because it looks like you’d prefer to have this fool over me!” At this point Everett had raised his voice, making Y/n flinch. “It’s just a joke-the boys are just playing around-” “Stop defending them,” Everett had yelled, keeping the phone pointed into Y/n’s face. “You’re supposed to be my wife soon, not Will’s!” “I know! I’m sorry-” “Oh shut up,” Everett stood up, still holding onto Y/n’s phone. “If you’re smart, you’ll behave. Until then, you’re not getting your phone back anytime soon.” At this point, Y/n had already started crying. She had ended up balling herself up, sitting on the edge of the couch. She felt like shit. Everett found himself walking into their room, slamming the door shut, causing the door frame to shake. He had quickly locked the door and sat at his desk, opening up his laptop. 'This jackass dares to try and take what’s mine,’ he had thought to himself as he began to google everything he could possibly find on his enemy. After around an hour or two, Everett had ended up collecting a handful of information. His name is Will Lenney and his birthday is March 11, 1996. He had known Y/n since forever and his fanbase had loved the thought of them being a couple together. He had played a charity game of football and he has over 3 million subscribers. The more Everett knew, the more he hated Will. Soon enough, he had found himself on YouTube with 'WillNE and Y/n’ in his search bar. There were tons of videos. But a certain video had caught his eye. ’Will and Y/n acting like a married couple for 6 minutes straight.’ Everett’s blood boiled as he clicked onto the video. The video began with a short clip of Will and Y/n dancing together from the time they had been invited to a party. They both were single at the time and had decided to go together. The dance had been sweet and gentle as Will’s hands had been placed on Y/n’s hips while Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder. The video had continued on to another scene where Alex, Will, and Y/n all sat in front of a MacBook on a white couch. Will had ended up laughing hard at something on Will’s computer, having him throw his head into Y/n’s lap. Y/n smiled down at him and had gently brushed her fingers through his hair. 'I think I’m just gonna stay like this for the rest of the video,’ Will had hummed, closing his eyes. 'I’m alright with that,’ Y/n giggled. The video had changed again. This time Will and Y/n sat in a room together at a desk, Y/n had been explaining something about 'stage kissing.’ Gently, Y/n brushed her fingers onto Will’s lips and leaned in. 'Wait so we’re not gonna actually kiss?’ Will had interrupted. 'Yeah, but you also get clickbait,’ Y/n hummed with a playful smile. Everett slammed his Macbook shut. He felt sick. All this time Will had been messing around with his girl, even before they had been together. 'I need to know what she has to say about this,’ Everett stood up, unlocking the door. As soon as he had stepped into the living room, his eyes glazed over the scene. She was gone. Everett was quick on his feet, continuing to look around for there to be any chance that she was still in the apartment. Nowhere. She was nowhere. With a loud sigh, Everett pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the one person who would know where she’d be. “What do you want, Conway?” Gaby’s irritated one could be heard. “Is she with you?” “No, she’s not. And 'she’ has a name,” Gaby could be heard scoffing loudly. “Whatever. Do you know where she is?” “I have a couple of guesses but I’m not gonna tell you.” “Tell me or I’ll revoke your wedding invitation,” Everett growled. That hit a nerve. Gaby and Y/n had been looking all over for a nice maid of honor dress for her to wear and Gaby had soon enough found a couple she actually liked. “She’s probably at Will’s home or something,” Gaby let out a long sigh. “Where is that?” “Why should I-” “I’ll gladly take you off the guest list.” Within minutes, Everett was in his car driving off to take back his bride.

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devils-yui · 3 years

Text

Yui Talks/Hyperfixates On:

Beast Wars

—-

Part 2 of my little series I’m making and am I gonna be consistent with the names? Maybe, since I’m too lazy to chance my previous one.

You can check out my previous one with Transformers: Prime

But I’m gonna hop directly into it and remember I respect your opinions on the show itself I’m just providing little tidbits of things I like and notice

And this does contain spoilers

• First of all okay wow— the animation and design kind of punched me while re-watching it since I remembered as a kid that that was my idea of peak animation.

• the theme song: “BEAST WARS!!” *epic guitar riff* I love that. It’s so stupid but in a good way

• The intro to how it starts in the first episode is— so funky— and I know animation was like to a limit back in the old days— (and considering this was made in the 90s) but the ships when they were crashing look like someone picked up a toy model of both the ships and are just moving them manually, very slowly, to a green-screened Earth.

• The explosions are “incredible”. They remind me of Deltarune explosions so much—

• ALSO THE FIGHTING SCENES— WHY ARE THE QUALITIES COMPARABLE TO RECORDED SCHOOL FIGHTS LIKE— WHERE IS THE CAMERA ANGLE GOING AND WHY IS IT BOUNCING AROUND LIKE THAT

• my brain understanding and trying to focus the fights are just:

(Two of these gifs combined)

• already saying it, I love Dinobot with all of my heart and I’d die for him

• But on the other end, he’s kind of like a little fucking bloodthirsty— which then again I don’t mind. If he wants to go ape-shit (considering that he’s like got a utahraptor alt mode), then he can go ape-shit I guess

• He reminds me of both Dreadwing and Starscream except with Dreadwing’s form of honour being a little— different(?) kind of. He’s like a tolerable Starscream to me.

• I am going through a love/hate moment with Terrorsaur and Waspinator

• Terrorsaur— I don’t know why but half of my brain says that man— right there— is fruity. Just a little

• Rhinox is literally carrying half of the Maximals in this war also— why the absolute hell does his rhino alt mode have sharp teeth. I just want to know why.

• Rattrap may be a bi-icon but if given the opportunity I’m chucking that bastard like this:

• Megatron sounds like if Robbie Rotten had a deeper voice, I don’t know why my brain decided that

• Scorpinok looks like a SoundCloud rapper— and at best a bulldog or a pittie. No you cannot change my mind

• Arachnid scares me, not like in a genuinely terrifying way just an uncomfortable “eeehh…” way

• Tarantulas too. I thought he was like a simp for the first several episodes for Arachnid and tbh most of the Predacons were. I was getting so many mixed signals about their relationship

• also there have been— so many times. That I’ve seen these characters get incredibly close like LITERAL several inches away from each other’s face, within kissable distance. It’s definitely given me more moments at times of watching where I can literally become hoarse just from saying, “KISS ALREADY!!”

• Optimus Primal in this series still has that Prime dad vibe but he most indefinitely has the “dad that has favorites” vibe.

• Cheetor is— so annoying to me. Maybe it’s that little brother vibe but— I don’t— I can tolerate him but whenever he talks I’m just—-

• The plot armor for the Predacons is— so fricking thick— these people could like— fall apart like Lego pieces and look absolutely destroyed upon recognition but in the next episode after taking a bath in the mason jar

I mean ahem— the restoration pools. they’re perfectly fine.

• Dinobot’s chompers and snarls: 💗💘💞💕💝💝💘💖💘💞💘💘💓💓❤️💝💞 (can’t a man appreciate some good teeth? Okay wait no that sounds creepy—)

• Also I’m most indefinitely gonna keep that headcanon in my mind, that he is most indefinitely a cannibal. HE ATE HIS CLONE?? HOW DO YOU NOT CALL THAT CANNIBALISM??

• Dinobot’s soliloquies are great to listen to. I enjoy them a lot

• Silverbolt and Arachnid’s relationship is.. iffy for me.. Along with Tigatron and Airrazor’s too, I respect those who ship it but I don’t see it— they (Airrazor and Tigatron) probably had time like— off screen to develope that relationship but ehh. Also Silverbolt’s ‘nice guy’ attitude with the “I can’t hit her she’s a lady!” rule kills me inside. Dude, this lady you’re talking about has manipulated people, kicked your comrade’s ass without hesitation, and most indefinitely has committed crimes. What. Are. You. Taking about.

• Inferno might be one of my other favorite characters, since I do find it funny how he calls Megatron, “Queen” but he’s kinda y’know *bonk bonk* in the head. Insane, is what I’m saying but I do love me some unhinged characters,

• Rattrap’s transmetal vehicle mode— his wheels— look like cola bottle caps.

• MEGATRON HAS HEELIES IN HIS TRANSMETAL BEAST MODE AND I AM LIVING FOR IT!

Other info:

• I’m still watching it but you can come back to see if this part has changed… but yeah that’s it

#beast wars #this show is like another one of the good shows I like coming back to and just poking fun at #but then realize horribly how invested I’ve become in it #transformers #might continue on later #Yui Talks & Hyperfixates #Dinobot #rattrap #Optimus Primal #Rhinox #black arachnia #Tarantulas #Inferno #Tigatron #Airrazor #Waspinator #terrorsaur

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years

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Whumptober: Unconscious

AN: Whumptober is just me seeing how quickly I can write something. It’s not quality, nor is it quantity, but it sure is fic. That’s about all I’ve got in me.

The alert went off just after 3:00 am.

Which was, as a general rule, not one of Tony’s favorite times to get alerts.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled him from his hyperfocus on the exposed circuitry in front of him, “I have detected strange anomalies in Peter Parker’s vitals.”

He looked up in surprise. “What time is it?”

“3:03 am.”

He blinked. “And why the fuck is the kid in the suit at 3:00 am? It’s a school night. His curfew is 11:00.”

“Mister Parker is not in the suit. My readings are coming from the biotech in his watch.”

Okay. That… that wasn’t exactly ideal.

“What are the anomalies?”

“Mister Parker’s heart rate is unusually elevated and his blood oxygen levels appear to be rapidly decreasing.”

Did the kid go on patrol without his suit? Tony was going to kill him. “Where is he?”

“In his bed.”

Wait, what?

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck? F.R.I.D.A.Y., track his phone.”

There was a pause as the AI completed the request. Then,

“It appears to be on the table beside his bed, Boss.”

“Call him. Now.”

“Of course.”

The sound of the phone ringing filled the lab. Tony pushed away his project. He had more important things to worry about now.

The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. Peter Parker is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you finish recording you may hang up, or press 1 for more-

“Push the call through, FRI.”

“Yes, Boss.”

There was a brief rush of static, and then quiet.

If he listened really, really hard, he could just barely make out the sound of someone breathing.

“Peter?” The kid must be asleep (or unconscious), because there wasn’t any answer. He tried again, louder. “Peter!”

He heard the rustle of sheets, then a huff of confusion.

“Mis’er St’rk?”

“Thank god, you’re alive. You had me wondering there for a minute.”

“Huh? Where’re you?”

He blinked. “Try your phone, bud.”

“Wha’? Why’re you in my ph’ne?”

No, no, no, no, no. The spark of concern that had settled at the sound of the kid’s voice lit right back up, bright and sharp. This was a serious step above you-just-woke-me-up-and-I’m-still-half-asleep confusion. This was… that was something much, much worse.

“I-I’m not. I called you, Pete.”

“Called me?”

“Mhm. Are you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y. says your vitals went wonky and you seem… a little out of it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’ feel good.”

He sat up straighter on the bench, hands clenching with fear. He’d known something was wrong before, but hearing the kid admit it only gave purchase to the panic. “What do you mean?”

“Feel weird.”

“Define weird.”

“Dunno. Head hurts. Feel sick.”

Tony blinked. “FRI? Does he have a fever?”

“No, Boss. Although Mister Parker’s O2 levels are dropping low enough to be an imminent concern.”

He leapt to his feet. A little early morning trip to Queens wouldn’t kill him. Who needed sleep, anyway? “Pete? I’m coming over, okay? Can you get up and wake May?”

“Not here.”

“May isn’t there?”

“No. Graveyard shift.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. I’m gonna come take care of you. Just keep talking to me.” The suit folded around him and F.R.I.D.A.Y. flipped the call to his heads up display without being prompted. “Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Mhm.”

“If you need to, just do it. I’ll clean it up later.”

“M’kay.”

“Good boy.” He rushed out onto the roof and shot into the air. He was so hasty in his takeoff that he had to quickly correct his trajectory with his thrusters, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Did you feel sick before you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.” He muted himself and finally let the panic seep through his voice. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What the fuck is wrong with him? Is it the flu?”

“The flu does not usually involve such a rapid drop in oxygen levels.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“My sources indicate-”

“Those sources better not be WebMD.”

“They are not.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded offended. “As I was saying: my sources indicate that Mister Parker is likely suffering from a drug allergy. However, it is also possible that the symptoms are the precursor to an epileptic episode or a brain hemorrhage.”

“Why the fuck would he have a brain hemorrhage?”

“Considering Mister Parker’s age, state of health, and activity level, the most likely cause would be trauma. Until I can run a more in-depth scan, your best course of action would be to continue assessing his mental status.”

He switched his audio back on, nodding as if F.R.I.D.A.Y. needed his confirmation. “Hey, buddy. You still with me?”

“Mhm.”

“Good job. Hey, I have some questions to ask you, and it’s really important that you answer them honestly. I swear I won’t get mad.”

“M’kay.”

“Did you go on patrol earlier? Without the suit?”

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“Mhm.”

“So no injuries I should know about?”

“No.”

“Did you take medicine before you went to sleep? Ibuprofen? Anything?”

“No.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Have you ever had a seizure, Pete?”

“Wha’?” That question seemed to wake the kid up a bit. “No. Why?”

“I’m just checking. How do you feel?”

Peter seemed to contemplate that for a second.

“‘M... ‘M really tired, Mis’er Stark.”

“No. Nope. Stay awake, okay? I don’t know what's wrong with you yet.”

“Somethin’s wrong wi’ me?”

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. “Yeah, buddy. You told me you didn’t feel good. Remember?”

“Mm. Oh, yeah. I really don’ feel good.”

“I know. I’m,” he glanced at the ETA F.R.I.D.A.Y. helpfully threw up on the screen, “I’m three minutes away from you. Hang on.”

“M’kay.”

There was something impossibly frightening about having something wrong with Peter and not knowing what. He’d had to get used to the idea of the kid getting hurt on patrol, rolling into the Tower clutching a bleeding wound or a broken bone. It was an uncomfortable truth, but one he’d learned to assimilate into his life.

But this… this was exponentially more frightening. This was something happening to Peter, not Spider-Man. He could sew up bullet wounds and cast broken bones. He couldn’t fix something he couldn’t even diagnose.

God, he hated being stuck in the dark.

“Can you tell me more about what’s wrong, kiddo?” Honestly, he didn’t really expect to learn anything useful. He was just trying to keep Peter as lucid as possible until he could get there. “What feels bad?”

“Head.”

“Your head hurts?”

“Mhm.”

He could see Peter’s apartment complex now. Every inch closer made his heart rate climb. “Anything else?”

“Dunno. ‘M just… tired.”

“Alright. Remember what I said, though, right? No sleeping.”

“No sleepin’.”

“That’s it. Good boy.” He landed on the fire escape outside Peter’s room with the discordant clatter of metal on metal. It was loud enough to be unwanted at 3:00 in the goddamn morning, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m here, bud.”

“Took a long time.”

Don’t I know it, kid.

He ended up climbing through the window into Peter’s room. There was a part of him that nearly went into the main entrance and took the elevator to the apartment (May had given him a spare key, so he could’ve just let himself in), but the half-panicked ball of worry in his chest convinced him otherwise.

“Pete?”

The lump on the bed shifted. “Mis’er Stark?”

He rushed to the kid’s side, metal-clad knees knocking into wooden floors as he knelt beside the low-slung mattress. “Hey, squirt. Told you I was coming.”

Suddenly, an alert, red and flashing and impossible to ignore, exploded onto his heads up display.

WARNING: DANGEROUS LEVELS OF CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED DO NOT REMOVE HELMET INITIALIZING OXYGEN RESERVES OXYGEN RESERVES INITIALIZED

He froze in realization.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Mister Parker’s symptoms match those of carbon monoxide poisoning, although it is notoriously difficult to diagnose without context. There is likely a leak somewhere in the building.”

“What do I-”

“It is advised to remove Mister Parker from the contaminated area and into fresh air as quickly as possible. I have notified emergency services. They should arrive within five minutes to assist the other residents.”

At some point during his hurried conversation with F.R.I.D.A.Y., Peter’s eyes had fallen shut. He didn’t move when Tony pressed his gauntlet against his shoulder. He shook him, first gently and then with more vigor, and the kid just stayed limp.

“Pete?” Nothing. Shit. “Alright. Don’t worry about it, kiddo, I’ve got it handled.” He tore Peter’s comforter away in a manner that definitely did not denote I’ve got it handled, but he supposed it didn’t really matter when Peter was unconscious. “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay? We’re going on a little trip.”

Peter offered no resistance when Tony scooped him up. And, fuck, the kid was heavy. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kid was 5’8” of pure muscle.

Pure muscle that was now a complete deadweight.

Great.

He clambered onto the fire escape with a lot more grace than he’d really expected. Then again, he had the added motivation of not wanting to jostle the precious cargo cradled to his chestplate. As he went, he found himself babbling nonsensically to the kid.

“It’s all gonna be fine. I’m gonna take you back to the Tower and pump you full of oxygen. That’ll be nice, yeah? And I’ll call May, tell her that you can both bunk at the Tower until the leak gets solved. It’ll be great. You love sleepovers.”

Peter didn’t twitch during the flight back to the Tower, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t alert him to any worsening vitals, so he did his best to focus through it. He didn’t waste time taking the suit off when he landed on the roof, just headed straight for the MedBay.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called, skidding his way into one of the MedBay rooms. “What do I do? Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“He needs oxygen, Boss.”

He felt like screaming. “He’s getting oxygen.”

“Not enough.”

He deposited Peter onto the bed in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs. His lips were tinged with blue, just slightly, and the sight made Tony feel like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen himself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He winced in sympathy as the kid’s head lolled unnaturally against the plastic mattress. “I’ll make you comfy when you can breathe, kiddo, sorry…”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in before he could even process that he needed her help. “The oxygen tanks are located in the hallway supply closet, along with tubing and a mask.”

He jogged out the door and tore open the closet door. It only took him a few seconds to bundle everything he needed into his arms, but they felt like wasted moments all the same.

He’d helped set up a few oxygen tanks in the past, and it wasn’t necessarily difficult. Attaching the tubing was made slightly more complicated by the tremors running through his hands, but he pushed through it.

“There ya go, buddy.” Relief rushed through him once the mask was snug over the kid’s face. “All better now. Or, at least, we’re on our way, yeah?”

The next few minutes dragged by. Tony resisted the urge to glue himself to the vital monitors. Instead, he forced himself to trust F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s judgement, and stuck right by Peter’s side, brushing his hair back and talking gently. He knew firsthand the adrenaline rush of waking up in a place different than the one you lost consciousness in, knew how terrifying and disorienting it was. He wanted Peter to have an anchor: something that he understood, even if he didn’t understand anything else.

“His oxygen stats are improving rapidly, Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. offered after what felt like an eternity. “I estimate that he is likely to regain consciousness soon.”

Sure enough, Peter groaned a minute or two later, forehead wrinkling and he shifted weakly against the mattress.

“Hey buddy,” he murmured, cupping Peter’s face and tilting his head so he’d be lined up perfectly in the kid’s vision when he opened his eyes. “C’mon. Look at me, yeah? Let me know you’re alive in there.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. For a brief second, his entire body keyed up, muscles coiling, but then his gaze cleared and his pupils found the face hovering above him and Tony could see recognition shoot through his expression. He melted, then, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.

“Morning,” Tony whispered. Peter just blinked up at him slowly, brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s alright. Just keep breathing, nice and slow.”

A sluggish hand fumbled up to the oxygen mask, but Tony caught it before he could pull it off. “Yeah, I know. Leave that be. It’s helping.”

“Patrol?” Peter slurred, and Tony had to strain to make out the word through the mask.

He shook his head. “Shh. Don’t worry about it right now, alright?”

To his surprise, Peter relented, eyes drifting closed again, any hint of lingering tension releasing from his expression. “M’kay.”

Tony let his head bow forward, shaky with relief. He felt like he’d spend the rest of his life chasing after Peter Parker, scooping him up and stitching him back together again.

“I’m really glad you’re alright, buddy,” he said, voice low and strained.

Peter didn’t answer, just turned his face sleepily into his palm, but Tony didn’t need to hear anything from the kid, anyway.

He knew.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for ages #and i slapped it together and wrote in the gaps and now it's for u #i was gonna write an entirely different concept #but i decided to save it for 'bleeding out'#not to be a massive downer in the tags but #i'm havin a rough time so please be patient with me while i get my feet underneath me again #thank ye #whumptober2019 #whumptober 2019 #whumptober day 10 #no. 10 #tw: carbon monoxide #is that a trigger?#idk but i'm tagging it #losingmymindtonight writes #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #tony & peter

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hazelandglasz · 4 years

Text

OMG They Were Zoommates

Based on this post

I really couldn’t resist, and like @tchrgleek said, “Everything is a Klaine prompt”!

On AO3

All things considered, yes, this quarantine is a huge hassle.

Kurt doesn’t particularly like to be forced into confinement, and while he can put on a professional face like pretty much any thirty year-old, he doesn’t like being forced into social interactions through video conferences.

He may be an introvert, but even he needs more than this second-best choice to get in touch with his colleagues and partners.

Speaking of which.

“Mrooow?”

“Oh, stop being judgmental, Wildcat Jackson,” Kurt tells his cat, who is sitting on his bed and looking at him with what is, truly, a judging look. “At least I put on pants.”

The cat looks down at his legs before rolling herself into a ball, away from him.

“They’re pants,” Kurt mumbles. Yoga pants, sure, but they are still pants.

And Kurt put on his pristine pink shirt and his brooch.

From the camera’s point of view, he’s every bit the professional he needs to project for this meeting with their new partners.

The Zoom meeting is not planned before 2pm, but it’s 1:50pm when Kurt logs in, because that’s just the kind of person he is. And yet, he’s not the first one in the Zoom.

“Um, hello? I just logged in.”

The person was away from his computer, and Kurt had just enough time to see a bookshelf filled to the brim with books, manuals and several Funko Pops.

Nothing unusual from a company specialized in developing educational apps for teenagers and young adults.

But then the man slides back in place, and wow, that is not how Kurt pictures Dalton's CEO.

“Hi. I’m Blaine Anderson.”

The man looks like a lot of things—a model from the 1950s, a romantic male lead, a wet dream in the flesh, your pick—but not like the man who sent several emails regarding the intellectual property of both parties and who was a stickler for proper language.

Kurt waves. “I’m Kurt, Pavarro’s founder and CFO.”

Mr. Anderson smiles, waving back at Kurt. “Looks like we’re the early birds.”

“I always prefer to be early. Fashionably late is too 1990s.”

Blaine nods, waving his hand toward Kurt. “Though you seem to know a thing or two about fashion.”

Kurt looks down at his (visible) outfit and cocks one eyebrow at Blaine. “So do you,” he replies appreciatively, swallowing whatever flirtatious sentence was about to follow when other participants join in the conference room.

Blaine straightens up, his hand smoothing down his tie, before smiling to the camera.

Kurt can’t help but notice it is a very different, tighter smile than the one he had before.

“Now, I want to begin this unusual meeting by thanking all of you for agreeing to the accommodations we all had to make…”

---

They are at the very beginning of the negotiations to include Pavarro’s music sheets and vocal coaching videos to Dalton’s latest app, designed for high school students wanting to focus on the Arts.

After a dozen or so Zoom meetings involving different members, it quickly comes down to only Kurt and Blaine meeting through Zoom, either to explain the technicalities ...

“No, Kurt, I’m not saying this coaching lesson is wrong, all I’m saying is that maybe the coach shouldn’t look …”

“What.”

“Constipated.”

... or to compare their business models and projected numbers.

“Blaine, if I may …”

“Of course, Kurt.”

“You seem overly enthusiastic about the potential breakthrough we would have in the Midwest.”

Through the meetings, both Kurt and Blaine have relaxed, both in outfits and composure.

Kurt is this close to say that they’re friends (for want of anything closer).

Blaine sighs and leans back in his chair, his yellow polo slightly stretched over his chest causing a hitch in Kurt’s heartbeat. “It’s where I’m from, Kurt. I need to be optimistic about my home state. I need for it to grow to become a place of origins for artists.”

“Midwest, uh?”

“Ohio.”

Kurt sits up, leaning toward the screen. “Ohi--no way! Me too!”

Blaine looks startled. “Really?”

“Lima!”

“Westerville!”

They both start laughing, before Blaine returns his attention to his notes. Kurt takes advantage of the moment to admire Blaine’s face so close, his eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheeks in the soft glow of his screen.

“We may have been just a teensy weensy bit enthusiastic, though,” Blaine finally says, looking up and surprising Kurt who can feel his face heating up immediately. “I’ll get over it with Wes and we’ll have to meet again in a couple of days.”

“Ah, the hardship.”

“Ha, ha.”

Blaine has mastered the art of talking with his eyebrows, and his cocked one clearly says “I see through your bullshit, Hummel”.

“I’ll let you set up the next meeting, then,” Kurt rushes to conclude the meeting before he lets himself blurt something totally unprofessional and embarrassing. “In the meantime, Tina will send David the singing coaching videos we developed while in confinement, so please disregard the poor quality and focus on the subject, ‘kay?”

“Will do. Take care, Kurt.”

“You too. Good evening, Blaine.”

As soon as the conference window is shut, Kurt picks up Wildcat and screams into her soft belly.

This crush has to stop.

…

It won’t stop, will it?

---

Kurt knows that he’s in the right conference Zoom, because he clicked on the link Blaine sent.

That’s the only element he has to know that he didn’t get “lost”.

Because right now, filling his screen, is not Blaine’s gorgeous mug.

An adorable mug it is, sure, but not the one he was expecting.

“Blaine?”

“Oh shit, ‘Gana, move!”

Blaine rushes into the screen, picking up the smiling corgi and unceremoniously pushing her away. His shirt is opened and Kurt wants to thank whichever deity is having fun right now for the sight, both of Blaine’s chest and of his blushing cheeks.

“I am so, so sorry for that, Kurt,” he whines softly. “I don’t even know how my dog came up here.”

“That’s a cute corgi you got here.”

Blaine runs his fingers through his hair and smiles, obviously relaxing. “She is very cute. And very stubborn.”

“What’s her name?”

Blaine’s blush is back at full force. “Um …”

“Come on, I promise I will level the field.”

Blaine cocks his head to the side and shrugs. “Fine.” He moves away before returning with his dog in his lap. “Kurt, meet General Pupgana Anderson, leader of the Resistance.”

On the Corgi’s collar, Kurt does notice a couple of buttons that give clues about Blaine’s political leaning.

Particularly, a rainbow one.

Interesting.

“Your turn.”

Luckily, Kurt’s cat was just out of frame, lying on his desk to catch the afternoon Sun. He picks Wildcat and presents her like an offering. “Here is Wildcat Jackson Hummel,” he says, and Blaine frowns, resting his chin on top on his dog’s head before snapping his fingers.

“Hey look me over, lend me an ear

Fresh out of clover, mortgage up to here

Don't pass the plate folks, don't pass the cup …,” he sings, not even off-key.

Wildcat opens one eye and bats the camera, interrupting Blaine’s singing in favor of laughter.

Kurt really doesn’t know which sound he prefers. All he knows is that he should have recorded it.

“I didn’t know you were a singer too,” he comments, letting Wildcat walk away in a huff.

“Oh, yeah,” Blaine says, absentmindedly fluffing up his dog’s already fluffy ears. “I was the leader of my school’s choir, back then.”

“Choir?”

“Ok, Glee club. Happy?”

Kurt beams at the camera. “Would be if you had proof.”

“No.”

“So you tell me if I search Blaine Anderson choir on YouTube, nothing will come up?”

Blaine mumbles something.

“Beg your pardon?”

“It. Better.”

Kurt bursts out laughing. “Okay, fine. I won’t look it up.”

Blaine cocks one eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I will look it up, but I won’t bring it up.”

“Hm-hm.”

“I won’t make it a big deal.”

“Right.”

“Pinky swear.”

Blaine smiles crookedly at the camera, a look of disbelief on his face, before he does hold up his pinky in front of him.

Kurt mirrors him, all while quietly and internally losing his shit over how cute Blaine is.

That level of cuteness and geekiness and just gorgeousness should be illegal.

“Now, back on the matter at hand. Let me show you the new numbers we cranked up for our Midwest penetration …”

Oh Lord, Kurt thinks while putting his glasses on, do not let me focus on the idea of penetration for the next hour.

…

Try again.

---

“I’m sorry, Kurt, but the files have been compromised in the transfer.”

Tina looks like on the verge of tears, and Kurt himself is this close to cry.

“How did it happen?” he simply asks.

“Artie is looking into the tech of it, but in the meantime, we, um …”

“What?”

Tina glares at him. “Don’t bite my head off, Hummel, I can smack you down via video and we both know it.”

Kurt takes a deep breath. “What?” he repeats, softer this time and with a smile plastered to his face.

“We need to re-record the songs we planned to send to Dalton.”

“You know what we could do, instead?”

“Fling ourselves through the window because nothing matters?”

Kurt blinks. “Err, no. No. We’re not going to do that. What we are going to do, is mirror what the musicians from the National French Orchestra did.”

“Play Ravel’s Bolero?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No, but we can have a Zoom conference with Blaine and David--”

“Blaine, uh?”

“Yes, Blaine.” Tina’s smile could rival the Cheshire’s. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m glad you and Blaine managed to build such a good relationship while apart.”

It’s Kurt’s turn to glare. “I see what you’re trying to imply, Cohen-Chang, and it’s not--it’s not that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I may wish it was that, but it’s not, so can you please drop it and brainstorm something with me for a good …”

“Audition?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

Tina’s smile is softer as she ends the call, promising to come up with a list of songs they wanted to add to their catalogue anyway.

As the call ends, Kurt swirls around in his chair, worrying his lower lip.

Has he been so obvious?

Does every participant into their Zoom meetings see how he feels about Blaine?

Does Blaine know?!

Blaine must know, oh shit.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, pushing himself off his chair to get a well deserved homemade pumpkin spice coffee because he needs it and he’ll be a cliché in his own damn home if he so chooses it.

“Blaine?”

For once, Blaine seems very unfocused today on their meeting. He frowns into space, asks Kurt to repeat what he just said and just seems … upset.

“Yes, sorry. I’m here.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Kurt asks, pulling Wildcat into the frame.

Somehow, along the weeks, adding their respective pets to the discussion has become a signal that the meeting is about to take a turn for the more personal.

Blaine hesitates, before leaning down and picking up Pupgana, who seems delighted to see Kurt.

“So, what’s going on in that cute head of yours?” Kurt continues, throwing caution to the wind, mostly because Blaine doesn’t react one way or another to his little flirting.

Which is both a blessing and a curse for Kurt’s mental well being.

“I had tickets for a play for tonight,” Blaine says softly. “And I understand the lockdown, I understand the quarantine, I understand the necessity and the safety of it …”

“But.”

“But,” he repeats, smiling sadly at Kurt. “There is no way to be sure that the play will be reprogrammed for a later date. I have been reimbursed and everything, but still.” He sighs. “I was looking forward to it, and it may make me sound like an entitled white man, but …”

“But,” Kurt echoes. “I had tickets for an opening last week, too. One of my best friends plays in it, so I had first row tickets too.”

“Oh? Which show?”

“Six.”

Blaine straightens up immediately. “No. Way.”

Kurt can feel his jaw clicking open. “No.”

“Yes!”

“You--”

“And you!”

Kurt leans back in his chair, a startled, breathless laugh escaping him. “Wow.”

“Took the word out of my mouth.” Blaine chuckles. “Which part was your friend supposed to play?”

“Ah, Mercedes was supposed to be Queen Catherine of Aragon herself.”

“Mer--your best friend is Mercedes Jones?!”

Kurt preens a little. “Yep. Since high school.”

“Wow. You keep getting more and more interesting, Kurt.”

His face heats up enough to make him worried about getting a fever, but Kurt knows it shouldn’t have anything to do with the pandemic. “...Oh.”

Blaine’s cheeks do pink up too, but he doesn’t lose his composure. “I mean it, Kurt. You’re probably--no, without a doubt, the most interesting man I have ever met.”

“And we haven’t even met yet.”

Blaine leans his head against his closed fist and stares into Kurt’s soul--that is, into his camera. “Do you really feel that way?”

Blaine’s voice is soft and low. Intimate, in a way Kurt cannot comprehend or translate or interpret in his emotional state.

“I …” he starts, ready to deny whatever Blaine is imply, but he can’t.

Kurt can’t lie to those golden green eyes.

“No, I don’t. Feels like we have known each other forever.”

“It does.”

Kurt sighs, and Blaine follows.

When Pupgana imitates them, they chuckle and look away, focusing once again on arranging Pavarro’s demonstration for Blaine’s board.

---

It goes pretty well, if Kurt may say so himself.

Adding the Beatles has always been a goal of his, if only because his dad loved the British band so much, and performing “Blackbird” to the camera, while Tina provides backup and Artie plays the guitar, along with their teaching methods, was a stroke of genius.

Everybody agrees that the demo is a success. Wes, David and Trent leave the Zoom chat first, having another appointment with investors, and Artie spends some time talking to Blaine about how their codes could be more compatible--a conversation that flies over Kurt’s head--but after a while, it’s just the two of them, alone again in their Zoom meeting.

Blaine seems thoughtful as he looks at Kurt every two seconds, his eyes and fingers otherwise busy typing away.

“I could get used to this,” Kurt says to break the heavy silence.

“Hm?”

“You, me, working together. It feels right.”

Blaine bites his lip as he nods before pushing his keyboard away. “Kurt, I have to tell you …”

This is it, Kurt thinks. He’s going to tell me that I have been inappropriate, that we’re barely friends, that we need to stop talking to each other every day…

“... I didn’t expect to feel so emotional about your performance.”

Ah.

Ah?

“I mean, I heard recordings of you singing before, but that was … You moved me, Kurt.”

“Oh, really?”

“I had to restrain myself from clapping when you were finished.”

“Blaine …” Kurt takes a deep breath. “You know that a lot of the subjects we talked about during our meetings were not my forte.” Blaine cocks his head to the side with a frown. “Why did you decide to have them with me anyway?”

“Oh.”

“Not that I mind, but it just feels …,” Kurt hesitates and lets his silence fill in for him.

It just feels … odd.

Abnormal.

Surprising.

Like it’s leading to something else, please tell me if there is something else, because I am feeling that “else” too.

“You know, Kurt, since we’ve been in lock down, I didn’t think I would--,” Blaine pauses, looking away and muttering something Kurt doesn’t catch. And then, Blaine looks back up, jaw squared as if getting ready to enter battle. “Kurt.”

Kurt has never been more focused on the sound coming from his speakers.

“There are some people you meet along your Life’s journey, and it doesn’t feel like a meeting but like a reunion with someone you already know. When we first met, I thought “oh, there you are”, like I had been looking for you forever, like all my decisions ever since Ohio were meant to bring us back together.”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

“And I know it may sound like a rehearsed speech, and yeah, I did, a little,” Blaine continues, running his fingers through his curls and chuckling self-deprecatingly, “but I didn’t have to look for the words. I had to rehearse to be able to say it all without stuttering over my own heart. Because he’s in charge here, and he told me to do anything necessary to spend more time with you.”

Kurt is about to faint, and he doesn’t even care.

“I know we met in an unconventional way, but I can tell you that all I want right now is to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

“I would.”

“Oh,” Blaine blushes, looking surprised (and, really? Surprised? So he didn’t know?), relieved and, well, ecstatic, really. “I guess we both know what we’ll do the first time we meet without cameras between us.”

“Oh, I do. Describe it.”

Kurt knows he’s pushing his luck, but a cute, intelligent guy just made him the most romantic love declaration, he is high on feels.

Blaine cocks one eyebrow, his smile turns into a slightly cocky one and he leans closer, describing in excruciating details all the micro-actions that would lead to their kiss.

Truth be told, Kurt is no longer a blushing virgin, but it still leaves him blushing fiercely and hot all over.

And that was just a virtual first kiss.

They don’t know how long this confinement is going to last, but Kurt knows one thing.

It won’t be boring with his new boyfriend.

Wildcat Jackson Hummel

General Pupgana Anderson : https://www.reddit.com/r/corgi/comments/b11ngx/pancake_would_like_to_facetime/

#sometimes i write #klaine au #covid-19 au #colleagues to friends to lovers #mutual unrequited pining #fluff #adorable pets

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dinoyoongi · 5 years

Text

Cuddles & Kitty Cats

SYNOPSIS: After a night of drinking, you go to Yoongi’s dorm for some quality cuddles. Unfortunately, you’ve forgotten that you are currently giving him the silent treatment.

PAIRING: Yoongi x Reader

GENRE: Fluffy angst

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2292

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have a million other things that I should be writing but this spontaneously jumped into my head. Nothing was planned, I just wrote whatever popped into my head. Hope you all enjoy!

_______________________________________

“Yoongi! Y/N is downstairs! Should security let her up or are you two still arguing?” Jin yells from the foyer of the apartment. Yoongi, who is currently slumped into the living room sofa and attempting to decode the obviously inebriated text messages you had just sent five minutes prior, lifts his head in confusion. He sighs heavily.

“I think she's drunk. Tell them to let her up.”

Your boyfriend and Jin idle by the door for what seems like fifteen minutes, waiting for the doorbell to sound. Yoongi is about to go search the floor for you when there's suddenly a loud banging on the door, followed by a pitiful whine. Jin yanks the door open quickly and both boys are startled when your body tumbles inside, crumpling to floor at their feet.

“Ow,” you half squeak, half hiccup. You slap the pristine, gleaming tiles with the palm of your hand. “Big Hit too cheap to spring for carpeting?”

“I don't think they anticipated drunk girls breaking their head open on our linoleum, Sweetheart,” Jin says, watching in amusement as Yoongi pulls you gently to your feet. He steadies you when you wobble, keeping one of you arms around his shoulder. Feeling his limbs against yours, you yank yourself away as if his skin is made of lava.

“I don't want to talk to you,” you say snottily, wrapping your arms around yourself. Yoongi snorts humorlessly, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Then why the fuck did you get dropped off here?”

Jin has to stifle his laughter when you genuinely look confused – why did you instruct your taxi driver to take you here? It wasn't because you subconsciously wanted to make up with Yoongi and cuddle him all night. Nope. Absolutely not. No way. You were punishing him with the silent treatment and would continue to do so until he apologized for the things that he had said yesterday.

You hiccup again, your eyes moving toward the taller boy. He's surprised when you shove a finger in his direction. “Jin! I came to hang out with Jin. Jin is my best friend.”

Before Jin can even process what you've said, you have him by the elbow and you're dragging him into the living room, pulling him down to sit next to you on the sofa that Yoongi previously occupied. Yoongi leans against the wall of the entryway, already exhausted of your theatrics.

“So, Jin, how have you been lately? Tell me everything new that's going on!” you exclaim, kicking your leg up over your knee. Yoongi's eyes narrow at the expanse of skin that is suddenly revealed when your skirt shrinks in on itself with the movement.

“Uh,” a panicked Jin throws a worried glance at Yoongi, who motions with his hand and the rolling of his eyes to play along. “I've been … good. Things have been … good. Nothing new going on – just recording music and learning choreography and photoshoots … you know, BTS stuff ...”

You nod your head. “Of course. Sounds hectic.”

There's an uncomfortable silence. The weight of your expectant gaze targeted right at Jin is even more uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “And … yourself?”

By the way you perk up, shoulders squaring and posture suddenly proper, Jin can tell that you clearly didn't give any kind of shit about how he has been or what was new with him. He locks eyes with Yoongi again, both of them realizing what kind of game you were playing.

“I've been just peachy, Jin. Just peachy. I broke up with my neglectful boyfriend yesterday-”

Yoongi scoffs loudly. “We did not break up.”

“As I was saying,” you talk loudly over him with as much sass as you can muster, “I broke up with Yoongi and went to the bar tonight to find myself a new man who will actually remember my birthday and not call me immature for being upset about it.”

“You forgot her birthday?” Jin asks in incredulity, facing the younger boy with wide, disappointed eyes.

“I was only one week off!” Yoongi exclaims defensively. “I thought it was on the 18th instead of the 10th! I even had her present already bought and wrapped!”

“We've been together for three years, you asshat. And we've known each other for even longer than that. It is against the law for you to forget my birthday by now!”

Jin grimaces. “Err … that's not a law, Y/N.”

“Well it should be!”

“And this is why I called her immature. You're hammering the nails right into the coffin, Babe,” Yoongi drawls, shaking his head in amusement at your ridiculousness. The smug look on his face only enrages you further in your intoxicated state.

“And this is why I broke up with you! You are also hammering your -”

“You did not break up with me,” Yoongi interrupts, smirking when he sees your face flush red with anger.

“Shut up!” you screech, grabbing the first solid object that your fingers can reach and whipping it in his direction. Unfortunately for you, it was a stray sock and barely traveled halfway to where Yoongi stood. He stares at the piece of laundry for a few seconds before bursting into loud guffaws. Somewhere between throwing the sock and Yoongi laughing at you, your liquid courage dried up. A sudden wave of humiliation washes over you and you jump to your feet, ignoring the pain when your knee knocks into the coffee table hard as you run past Yoongi into the nearest bathroom.

Jin sighs, grabbing the edge of the coffee table to right it's position. “What I just witnessed was ridiculous. You know that, right? She's drunk. Why are you antagonizing her?”

“She came over here looking for an argument so I indulged her,” Yoongi shrugs. Something about Yoongi's nonchalant attitude sits wrong in Jin's stomach.

“Do you really think she came all the way over here to argue? She got drunk and probably missed you. And whether you'd like to admit it or not, you do owe her an apology for forgetting her birthday. That's kind of messed up.”

Yoongi sighs. “She understands. I forget important dates and anniversaries all the time and she always lets it go. I don't know why she's freaking out this time.”

“Do you ever forget my birthday? Namjoon? Jungkook? Any of the other members? Hell, you even remember to send some of management gift cards on their birthdays. Imagine how that must make her feel, Yoongi. She probably doesn't feel all that important to you.”

Yoongi's eyes fall to the sock on the floor by his feet. Jin was right – of course, he was right. When he forgot your birthday the first year, you were so calm and understanding. Yoongi had panicked and prepared for the worst but you soothed his worries and forgave him with no fuss. When he forgot your anniversary the next year, he could see that you were visibly upset but also let it go with a smile on your face. After that, it became routine. Yoongi didn't think these dates mattered to you all that much so he didn't put forth the effort to remember them. Has he been taking advantage of you and your feelings this entire time?

“You're right,” Yoongi sighs, rubbing the spot between his eyes with his thumb. “I really am an asshat.”

“I know you hate to do cheesy things, but I think you have to just suck it up this time. Go in there and apologize and be nice. And then bring her to bed because she seems on the brink of passing out. I'll make her a sandwich so she isn't so sick tomorrow.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Yoongi pats his elder on the shoulder before padding down the hallway to the first bathroom. He raises his fist to knock but leans his ear to the wood instead when he hears a faint whimpering from the other side. “Y/N? Jagi? Are you okay?”

When there's no answer, Yoongi turns the knob. Surprisingly, it opens. He finds you sprawled across the bathmat next to the shower, wet, mascara-streaked eyes trained on the screen of your phone. There's a faint melody of familiar music playing but he can't place a finger on what it is until you begin singing.

“It leaves me feeling seasick, baby ...” you half-sob, half-sing from your spot on the floor. Yoongi sighs, crouching down next to your body.

“Are you okay? Did you get sick?” he asks, lifting the toilet seat to check. The water is clear as crystal.

“No,” you whimper. The sight of your bottom lip quivering makes Yoongi's chest throb. “But I don't have any kitty cats for Jimin.”

Yoongi's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The kitty cats!” you howl, sliding your phone aggressively to where Yoongi is crouched. He's overcome with a mixture of understanding and amusement when he sees the agency page of BTS World running on your phone. “Jimin is so sad but I don't have any kitty cats left to give to him.”

Yoongi hides his chuckles with his hand. Even sloppy drunk with smeared make-up, you still managed to be both infuriating and adorable at the same time. He picks your phone up off of the ground, sliding it into his back pocket before reaching down to gingerly lift you into his arms. Fortunately you don't fight him, choosing to instead wrap both arms around his neck for support. As Yoongi carries you out of the bathroom and into the hallway, you catch sight of Jimin leaving his bedroom.

“Jimin!” you wail. Your mouth is near Yoongi's ear and the volume makes him wince. It startles Jimin, too, who stumbles over his own feet. His eyes are wide as saucers as he stares at you; eyes puffy and red, makeup everywhere except where it should be. What a sight. “I'm so sorry that I couldn't give you the kitty cats. I tried so hard. All they gave me were the stupid flowers. I'm so sorry.”

Jin's laughter is high-pitched and loud from the kitchen. Jimin opens his mouth in confusion but Yoongi shakes his head, jerking his neck forward as if giving permission to carry on. He brings you into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him and lowering you softly onto his bed before heading into the bathroom for a damp washcloth. He sits down next to where you lay, dabbing and wiping gently at your ruined makeup.

“I hope you remember this in the morning because I'm terrible at this but … I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry for not being attentive and forgetting so much that is important to you, to us. I'm sorry for being mean when you got upset. And I'm sorry for teasing you tonight. I'll be better, I promise.”

“And I'm sorry for throwing the sock at you. Violence is never the answer.”

A tired, amused smile stretches across your boyfriend's face. “That's right.”

“But Yoongi? Am I important to you?” you mumble pitifully. Yoongi's chest throbs harder.

“Of course you are, Jagi. You are the most important person in my life and I'm sorry for making you feel like you're not. Can you forgive me for being an asshat this whole time?”

You push down the queasiness in your stomach to roll onto your side, reaching out to grab his arm. He understands your motives and lays down next to you, tucking you into his side. You sigh in contentedness. This was what you wanted. This is what you came here for tonight. Yoongi cuddles were the best cuddles and you craved them even when you wanting nothing to do with him.

“I love you so I suppose I can forgive you,” your words are muffled by his shoulder. He chuckles. “Only if you make me something to eat, though.”

“Your best friend is in the kitchen making you a sandwich right now.”

“Oh? Why is she here? Did I bring her with me? Yoongi, she's a terrible cook. Can you ask Jin to make me something instead?”

All Yoongi can do is laugh. He reaches for the edge of the blanket and pulls it up over your body, knowing you enough to be prepared for the sudden slumber that you always fall into after you stop making sense. He watches your eyelids begin to droop.

“Jagi?” he asks, moving a strand of hair from your face. You hum in response. “You said you went to the bar to find a new man … you were joking, right?”

“He wanted to buy me french fries, Yoongi,” you mumble sleepily, your eyes never opening. “But I said no thank you, sir, I have a boyfriend.”

Yoongi's responding laugh is louder than he thought it would be. He slaps his hand over his mouth but the effort is wasted as you have already fallen asleep, your lips parted with soft snores. Still snickering, he leans down to kiss you lightly on the forehead before clicking the lights off and making his way back into the kitchen. Jin is already plating a large sandwich stacked with meats when Yoongi finds him. Jimin sits on a stool at the counter, flipping through the week's schedule.

“Might as well wrap it up and put it in the fridge. She's fallen asleep but I'll make her eat it for breakfast. Thanks, hyung.”

“Did you two work things out? No fighting?”

Yoongi smiles. “We're good. No fighting.”

“I'm really happy that you and Y/N are on good terms again but I have a question,” Jimin chimes in from his seat. Both boys turn to look at him. “What kitty cats and flowers was she talking about?!”

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