1. What’s your sexual orientation?
2. What are you obsessed with right now?
3. Ever done any drugs?
4. What piercings do you want?
5. How many people have you kissed?
6. Describe your dream home.
7. Who are you jealous of?
8. What’s your favorite show to binge?
9. Do you watch porn?
10. Do you have a secret sideblog?
11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?
12. What’s one of your fantasies?
13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced?
14. How would you spend a million dollars?
15. Are you in a relationship?
16. Do you follow porn blogs?
17. Are you angry with anyone right now?
18. What tattoos do you want?
19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to?
20. What is something you’re obsessed with?
21. Describe your best friend.
22. Tag someone you think is hot.
23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists?
24. What are three places you want to travel?
25. Describe your perfect Friday night.
26. What’s your favorite season?
27. What’s your pet peeve?
28. Who is the funniest person you know?
29. What’s the most overrated movie?
30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message.
31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better?
32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick?
33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like?
34. What’s your coffee order?
35. Do you have a crush on anyone?
36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes?
37. Have any tattoos?
38. Do you drink?
39. Are you a virgin?
40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals?
41. How many followers do you have?
42. Describe the hottest person you know.
43. What’s your guilty pleasure?
44. Do you read erotica?
45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?
46. How many people do you follow?
47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?
48. Describe your ideal partner.
49. Who do you text the most?
50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?
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This is too cute. I'm suing for the baby fever I just got.
today I’m soft and thinking about wifey and Andy during pregnancy makes me even more soft 😭 like how they discovered it? wifey food cravings? y’know all that stuff :)
there’s our peanut
pairing: Andy Barber x Reader (ex spouses universe)
a/n: GAH, i'm so sorry this is such a late reply, but i had to make sure this was perfect. hope you like it anon. for more drabbles search or click on the tag “ex spouses universe” or “college addition”
warnings: 18+ ONLY, fluff, slight angst in the beginning nausea, pregnancy talk and inaccuracies, ultrasounds, funnies, poorly edited
Christmas Eve, 2014, at Andy's parents house.
As soon as you both arrived, you were given just enough minutes to breathe and greet his family and then you were taken away from Andy by his mother. Marianne loves you like a daughter. She was so accepting of you since the beginning, her adoration for you only grew more after losing her only daughter. Not that you replaced anyone by any measure. You were just truly there for Andy and his family during the difficult times.
So it's only natural that you spend most of your time with her whenever you visit.
During this time, Christmas time, she loves to isolate herself in the kitchen for most of the mornings. Baking and cooking for the family. Even though you aren't that big on the kitchen front, you offer to help.
Gold and white, that's the theme they were went for that year. Going for a little minimalistic approach for the decorations. The tree stands tall and shimmering in one corner of the living room, taking up most of the space. The aroma of pine, cinnamon and peppermint wafting around the entire house are the indications that the holiday season is upon you.
In the kitchen, it smells like ginger bread cookies. A hint of cloves that's a tad bit sharp when you first inhale it, but soothing nonetheless, later on. The countertop and island are topped with decorated goodies that come in all shapes and sizes and pretty pastel colors. They all looks so good and untouchable, you don't have the heart to ruin anything by eating. More preparations are being made for the Christmas Eve dinner party at the Barber's. It's a feast, really. So much on the menu that they had to hire a professional chef for help.
Around 7 in the evening, the streets are blanketed in a thick layer of snow. The sun's lowered. That's when the guests start to arrive. You and your husband, greet each and everyone of them at the door with warm smiles and hugs. Andy takes their coats upstairs, while you make small talk and offer them some eggnog or drink of their choice.
That's when it begins. The repulsion at something you can't quite put your finger on. You push through it. Whatever that's making you nauseated can wait. It can't be that serious.
Around 9, you're all seated in the dining room. You're next to Andy, a light hand rested on your thigh. Lovingly brushing his thumb along the velvety fabric of your red dress, while he catches up with friends and family. The food's being passed around.
While everyone's praising the food and helping themselves with seconds, your plate is nearly empty—not because you've finished up. But because every time Andy goes to serve you, you shake your head or push your plate away from yourself.
“You haven't eaten anything except for the salad.” Andy looks worried as he turns to you. You're so goddamn hungry but none of the delicious food appeals to you. It all just lays right in front of you, taunting you. “Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”
“I'm fine, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.” You don't wait for Andy to react, suddenly getting up and leaving. The chattering doesn't cease but Andy's mother shares a look with him. He just shrugs shoulders, halfway across the dining room to follow you. He finds you with your head stuck in between the fridge doors.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Mmm?” You reappear, a bottle of OJ stuck to your lips as you drink as much as you can in one go. He rushes to you, only to find a bar of chocolate in the other hand.
“What is happening—” He snaps a red decorative tissue paper off the counter to wipe your lips and chin. In your haste and hunger, you didn't even realise some of the OJ missed your mouth. He chuckles, “Are you sure you're okay?”
“I don't know. Just everything out there makes me nauseate, the smell, the food. And suddenly, I remembered there was some OJ in the fridge and chocolates!”
The back of his hand is warm to touch when he grazed his knuckles on your forehead to check if you have a temperature. You're acting weird, he had to make sure you're not ill.
“You don't seem to have a fever.” He notes. The same hand cups your cheek, “What's the matter, honey?”
“I—I don't know... I haven't eaten since morning and I feel like I'll throw up if I eat anything on that table.” You sigh heavily, resting on the metalic door of the fridge. “I feel so bad for rejecting all of Marianne's hardwork. And all I want to drink is fucking juice!” You stare at the label, biting off a piece of chocolate.
“Hon... It's okay.” Andy pulls your attention back to him, “You wanna get some fresh air?”
It's like he read your mind before you could conjure the thought yourself.
When you nod, Andy rubs his palms over the length of your arms, nodding, too. Said he'll inform his mother and grab his phone from the dining table.
Andy quietly whispers to his mother that the two of you are stepping out for a bit. She seems hesitant but only for a second after Andy tells you're feeling a little under the weather.
“It's nothing to worry about, mom. I'm just taking her out for a little air.”
“Call us if you need anything.”
Andy pursed his lips and squeezes her hand in response.
“I upset her, didn't I?” You're fiddling with your nails at the entry way of the house, worry lining your forehead and it's so cute that you think even after years of knowing his mother, you could do anything to upset her or his family.
“Honey, she probably loves you more than she loves me.” He quips, a smile on his reddened lips, “If anything, she was worried about you.”
Andy takes the thick wool coat off the rack, helping you shrug it on. Dusting off lint off your shoulders before he wraps a thick scarf around your neck for good measure. Winter in Boston can be brutal. He makes sure you're properly bundled up before he layers himself up, too. He opens the door and you're both being hit by a cold gust of wind.
Both of you hurry towards the car. Not exactly getting any air, like he'd suggested. But he picked up on the fact that you needed to get away from the loud dining area. He starts driving, the car instantly heating up. Rubbing your hands together you muster some warmth in them too. Sighing in relief as your cheeks regain some of the heat you'd lost.
Unfortunately, relief doesn't stay longer. It's the smell of the car freshner card that dangles from the rearview mirror and leather seats that makes your stomach lurch. Your face twists and you hold a hand to your mouth.
“Andy, stop the car.” You mumble.
“I feel sick—I'm gonna throw up.”
“Shit,” He curses, looks out through all the mirrors only to find the road clear and pulls up on the side. You quickly reach for the door, opening it and stumble out. Before the cold, wet grass and dirt meets your knees, Andy holds you by your waist. A large palm running up and down your back as you empty the juice and bits of chocolate. The acids in your stomach act up, leaving a bitter burn in your throat and tongue.
He gathers some of the hair that's fallen loose around your face in one hand at your nape watching you throw up. The gears are churning in his brain, coming to a conclusion.
“Done. I think I'm done...” You meekly said, groaning at the sourness that coats your mouth.
“Honey...” Andy's tone is that of caution, “When was your last cycle?”
That got your thinking. It's not that hard to come to your own conclusion.
“You don't think that I might be—”
“Maybe... There were signs.”
Your head feels cloudy, millions of thoughts racing through the neurons in your brain. But your tongue's twisted up while Andy walks you back inside the car.
A quick stop at a general store, Andy is in and out and back in the car with a bottle of water and kit for a test. You drink the water, taming the bitterness from the acids. Andy had thrown away the car freshner as soon as he'd stopped at the store, so that scent was not a concern. The only one that remains is the smells from the seats. You can't do anything about it, except sit and wait for his childhood home to arrive.
Without alerting anyone in the house, especially his mother, he takes you to the guest bedroom where you're both staying. You take the test with you inside the bathroom and come out once you're done, with the stick.
The instructions say waiting period is 2-3 minutes. More like 2-3 minutes of anxious anticipation.
What if you are pregnant? Are you and Andy ready to have a baby? You haven't even had the talk yet. On Andy's part, he always knew he wanted kids, and at some point in your relationship you had said you'd give it a thought too. But nothing was solid. This wasn't in your plan. Neither of yours. This was supposed to be a thing to discuss in the distant future.
Andy still has got some important things to focus on career wise. He was planning to start his own firm. You, too have a lot going on in your firm. There were talks of offering you a partnership!
But even if everything is going well in your careers. There's still a bigger concern left: are you really ready to be parents?
It probably nothing. It's not a big deal. You're probably not even pregnant. It might just be the weather or something you ate during your trip here. It's nothing.
But the thought of swaddling a baby in your arms. Half his, half your. It makes your heart swell. It could be a good thing. You've been together for so long, it would be nice to have a little addition to the family. A little nursery in the house. You might have to shift homes! Oh, god. This possibility opens so many doors. A new house. Toys and a crib. The room? Should it be painted blue or pink? Or maybe something neutral. You don't want to enforce gender norms on your kid.
Oh, god. It is even worth thinking about anything, when you're not even sure?
One leg bouncing nervously. Forehead resting on his shoulder, fingers threaded through his, tightly as you both sit on the edge of the bed. Waiting. Worried what the other might be thinking. What the result might be. Would it make you feel happy or fill you with regret. But it's all about the moment. What you really feel once you see it.
His phone beeps, the timer going off and he springs up to his feet. Hovering over the cabinet where you'd kept the stick.
A nervous huff and a chuckle.
“Listen, babe, I'm okay with whatever, okay?”
“Me too.” You nod at him, reassuringly.
“And we can't be too sure. We'll still need to see an OBGYN.”
“But only when we get home.”
“Yeah, obviously. I mean they'd probably freak out if they even get a hint—” He laughs, referring to his family.
“What do you really want it to be?” You timidly ask just when he goes to take a look.
“What if we're not on the same page?” He stops immediately.
“Even after being together for almost 9 years?”
“Impossible, right?” He said, and finally checks the stick.
“Two line.” he announces, a flick of his wrist to show you. “Honey, you're—” there's a smile pushing his cheeks up.
“Pregnant?” You complete for him, somehow mirroring his expressions. A frantic nod from him and you immediately stand up, rushing to him to check it yourself. “Oh, my god! Andy!”
His arms go around your waist, embracing you, lifting you up in the process with a swift spin.
“We're—we're gonna have a baby.” The reality of it sets in as you say the words out loud.
“Yes,” Andy confirms, pulling you up for a quick kiss.
“Little Baby Barber.”
“I'm gonna be a grandmother?!”
Both your eyes widen at each other, smiles dropping at the sound of a third person. Slowly, your heads turn and it's Marianne, in tears, a smile similar to Andy's on her aged face.
“You better decide what you want the baby to call you.” Andy grins, opening his arms to invite her but she hugs you instead.
“Wow,” Andy stumbles back, mock offence in his tone. Your chin resting on her shoulder, you beam at Andy. “Told you, she loves you more than she loves me.”
“Oh, hush you! I'm congratulating the mother-to-be. It's got nothing to do with love.”
“I, too, am father-to-be!”
. . .
Back home, at the doctor's appointment, you find out you've been pregnant for around 6-8 weeks. You could feel your heart jump to your throat while the two of you listen to a heartbeat. Something that you both created, is growing inside you, is living inside you. Has a heartbeat. Hand in hand, smiles so wide as the Doc pointed towards a little dot—it was questionable, you couldn't see anything!
They gave you a picture of the ultrasound. And you cocky husband kept teasing when you asked him, countless times—
“Where's the baby? I can't see the baby!” Eyes squinting, staring at the picture, only half paying attention to where you're walking towards. Andy has to guide you with hands on your elbow and waist towards the car parked outside the clinic.
“Honey, I showed you three times already.” Andy chuckles softly.
“Well, you can't really blame me, it's the size of a peanut, Andy!” You stop near the hood of the car, dropping the hand that holds the image with black squiggly lines. That's all you could see, really. Lines and curves.
“Alright, I'll mark it for ya when we get home.”
“God, I can't find my own baby! I'm gonna be a terrible mother.”
He scoffs, pulling you into a hug and kisses your temple to release the lines gathering due to frowning, then kisses your lips to replace that pout with a smile.
“You're gonna be the greatest mother ever.” He said, as a matter of fact.
“You think so?”
“I know so, honey.” He pecks your lips once again. Plucks the picture from your fingers. Points the exact spot he'd memorized when the Doc showed both of you the ultrasound.
“There's our peanut.”
. . .
if these two don't make you smile, idk what does tbh :')
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