#I’m gonna have to make an appointment with the doctor when mum gets home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryhandstan · 4 years

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washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body.

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest.

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.”

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.”

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.”

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare.

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled.

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face.

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings.

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.”

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?”

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?”

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.”

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further.

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply, “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the exhaustion of the day washes over you.

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry #still not perfect but I like it so much more #hope you all enjoy it!

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fangirl-everythang · 3 years

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Happy Father's Day

Summary: (1/3) Y/n hasn't told Harry that she is pregnant yet, however, when the day comes around she finds out he's cheating.

Warning: Swearing, Taylor Swift Bashing (I love Taylor don't get me wrong, it's just for the story's sake.)

Word Count: 1492

It's been 5 weeks since I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to tell Harry the moment I found out. I scheduled a doctor's appointment to confirm it because you can't really trust generic pregnancy. But when the doctor confirmed it, I had no idea how to respond.

Hiding this from him has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Harry and I have been together for almost five years now. We met at his twenty-second birthday party in New York, I was twenty. He was pretty upset that he still had to tour for his birthday, but he said it was great making a new friend. Next thing you know we went public after two and moved in together for our third year. I'm so in love with him, but our careers are taking off, a baby would just interfere with all of it however Harry has always wanted children. He'd make such a great dad too, I can only imagine what our family will look like. But these thoughts often consume me, what if he doesn't want this?

I thought Father's Day would be the best day to tell him, you know like a surprise, and what a better time unless of course, he doesn't want our child. Our parents are coming over because of course, we have gifts and brunch so it's like three for one.

I've been distant from him recently, he's so concerned about me he thinks something is terribly wrong with my morning sickness and all. I figured I'd tell him with a gift which is a wooden base with yarn woven letters made of nails that spells 'dad' with the first ultrasound underneath, there's a card too! I'm so excited to finally start a family with Harry, I just hope he feels the same way. I have mugs for each of our dads that say, 'soon to be grandfather'. Honestly, I couldn't be happier. Opening the front door, I place the keys on the table next to me and walk the bags to the living room. That's funny Harry would've greeted me by now? He's probably asleep.

Setting up for later, I bring the balloons over realizing the tablecloths are upstairs. I work my way up the steps. These are gonna be a hassle with an extra 30-40 pounds on me. The closer I get to the top, I hear a light moan.

"I love y/n, she can't know about this" Harry's voice spoke.

Tiptoeing to peak into our bedroom I see my beloved boyfriend, father of my child shirtless kissing a pant-less Taylor Swift. Wow. Just my, fucking luck. Of course, he would! I mean what was I thinking.

"Of course not, my reputation is already bad" she breathes, cupping the side of his face.

I just watch him continue to kiss her after leaning into her touch. Debating whether to go in there, I feel frozen in my steps.

"This doesn't feel right" his deep voice sighs. No shit.

"She doesn't even care about you Harry, isn't that what you told me?" She says sweetly, such a snake.

He sighs and flips them, the scene before me, causes tears to come to my eyes. Opening the door making my presence known Harry turns to me with wide eyes while Taylor scrambles to find her pants and shirt.

"Y/n it's not-"

"I don't want to hear it" I say to him. Irritation and disgust line my voice. Grabbing the table covers I go back downstairs. I have what I need. After looking at my presentation admiring the work I've done. Harry and Taylor both come downstairs. His eyes red and puffy. I swear the tears make his eyes appear more beautiful, I hope my child has his eyes at least.

Astounded by my quiet stature he sits next to me and I stiffen. I'm just quiet because it's keeping me from crying. Taylor stares blankly at the floor.

"Why the fuck are you still here? Leave." I spit at her.

Oh, how I wish I could drink.

The doorbell rings alarming Taylor. I just walk her to the door and invite our parents in "Thank you Taylor" I say sincerely seeing her nod and pull off fast in her car. Tramp.

"What's that about?" Anne ask,

" New music" she smiles and comes in with everyone trailing her steps.

"Harry what's wrong love?" she asks wiping his tears.

"Nothing just allergies mum" she pats his back and sits at the table.

"Five years, I cannot believe it, Harry it's the longest you've had!" Rob states. "And the fans love you Y/n" Anne adds lightly patting my shoulder. "Our little girls all grown up" y/m/n wipes a fake tear from her eye. Everyone laughs. Thank god Harry is next to me so I don't have to look at him. He places his hand in my lap, but I push it off, going unnoticed by the crowd around us.

"Gift time!" I exclaim as he tries again. Placing each one down in-front of them, they all look up slightly confused.

"What's this?" Y/d/n ask.

"Open them, Haz just wait a few seconds after" they all agree. Rob opening his first then y/d/n they look at me then Harry, our moms looks match Harry's as he unwraps his gift. Stunned he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "Y-you're pregnant?"

"Yeah, surprise." Our parents run up to hug us.

"It's about time, I'm getting old over here!" Y/m/n shouts. Once they leave excitedly picking out baby names. I refuse to look at Harry. I make my way upstairs and begin packing some clothing.

"W-what are you doing?" Harry ask quietly.

"What does it look like Harry?" I say pushing past him going to the bathroom and grabbing some necessities. He just leans on the door frame watching me, still refusing to look at him. At first, I cared but I've made up my mind.

"How far along are we?"

"I'm almost 6 weeks but that doesn't matter" trying to walk past him he just grabs my arm and pulls me into him.

"I love you so much," he cries into my neck. I just stand there, motionless "I'm such a fuck up. Please don't leave me. I want to be here for you, for our baby. Y/n please." His hot tears continue to stream onto my shirt leaving a wet patch.

I soon give in rubbing his back gently. "Calm down Harry," I whisper into his ear as his sobs get louder "Breathe, okay."

Sitting on the closest surface near me, today has been long; I'm tired and pregnant give me a break. He stands between my legs looking down at me. I love him I do, and I want the best for our child, but this hurt. The one request I've had is he doesn't cheat, and he did. I stare at my feet avoiding him at all cost until his hand lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I'm not asking you to forgive me, but I am asking you to stay." He states softly placing a random string of hair behind my ear. He slowly starts leaning in I don't stop him. Suddenly feeling nauseous at the thought of him kissing Taylor, I shove him away from me crying.

He tries to hold me, but I just shake my head frantically, "Harry No," I cry. "How could you!? In our house Harry!" I shout. Continuing to pack my things making myself mad at the thought of his hands all over his ex.

"Y/n I'm so sorry please just stop," clothes I need clothes, just for a few days I'll buy more later. Walking into the bedroom opening my laptop ignoring his pleads. I book a hotel for two weeks, until I situate what is happening. He just sits on the bed trying to see what I'm doing but I soon erased my browser history and factory restarted the device so he can't track anything. Let's combine our accounts so our calendars sync. A swell idea. Wiping my tears, I pack outfits for each day that wouldn't show anything to the paparazzi. He sits there with his head in his hand's sharp intakes of breath audible.

As I approach him, he assumes I'm going to touch him, but I simply go into the drawer next to him. Cringing at the thought of him and Taylor who were here not over 6 hours ago, Grasping the more recent black and white photos gently until I get a photo album for them. Contemplating for a minute looking at the small framed version of my uterus I carefully tear one off handing to him before I seal my bag and walk away, taking my keys and loading my stuff in the backseat.

Looking through the rearview mirror, saying a silent goodbye to the home I hoped to raise my child. It'll get better- I hope.

A/n: Hello Loves! This is also a piece I had on wattpad. Most of these posts today will be Wattpad uploads. I'm trying to see which platform suits my work best. Bear with me while I figure Tumblr out. Masterlist coming soon!

xoxo Janelle

#harry #harry styles #harryx reader #y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #writing #imagine #oneshot #smut #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

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ok ok i have a random headcanon prompt!! what about amy really really wanting for breastfeeding to work because everyone says it's the best including her family giving her all the pressure but it turns out it just doesn't work for them.. how would she handle it

(oh noo 😭 that thought makes me so sad... They fought so hard for bébé I want Amy to have the newborn experience she dreamed of having! But it's pretty realistic...)

Going home from a doctor's visit has never really had a positive connection for Jake, to be honest, and their many saddening appointments during their trying phase did not help with that. (Of course he went along to all of them, even if they sometimes only needed Amy there. They were in this together, after all.)

This latest one really is not much better. It's another one where he wasn't actively needed - but he's glad he tagged along. If only to be the designated driver and babywrangler while Amy sat with the consultant. She'd had problems with breastfeeding, which the books said would be pretty normal for a first time mom, but she'd still wanted the opinion of an expert.

Well, she'd gotten that opinion now, and it really wasnt an uplifting one.

"You don't seem to have enough milkflow for the baby to really learn how to feed. We can prescribe supplements, and there are a lot of home remedies to increase flow, but it might not change anything. I'd advise getting the baby used to formula as well, to be on the safe side."

Amy looked so forlorn in the backseat, playing with Mac's perfect little foot to keep him entertained during the drive home. She hadn't really said anything ever since they left the doctor's office, and neither had Jake. He didn't feel like he was in any position to add something of worth to that particular topic, anyway.

She only spoke up once they were back home, Mac already asleep from that exciting venture outside of the apartment he'd called his homebase for the past two weeks.

"I can't believe my body is failing at this whole motherhood thing again." She laments. "It's really just not meant to be, is it?"

"Hey, don't say that." Jake pulls her into a hug that she only half returns. "Your body did an amazing job growing Mac so perfectly and bringing him into the world."

"I just... Maybe it's old fashioned or archaic, but I really wanted to breastfeed. It's important."

Jake isn't sure if that's really 100% true, but he's not going to question a woman about what her body is supposed to be doing, least of all his wife. So he does what he does best instead - looks for the silver lining.

"Hey, the doc said there's stuff that can help. We got those hormon supplements. I'm gonna buy every damn thing that has fenugreek in it tomorrow, and those teas and stuff too. We'll make it work."

"But what if it doesn't? Mac's already not latching right, and he needs to feed so much more than he does, and it's going to make him sick and-"

"He's devouring the special newborn formula they gave us at the hospital like it's orange soda or something. He's not going to starve, babe. We'll get him used to normal formula when it's time, too."

"Okay." Amy sighs again, leaning out of the hug and staring towards the nursery door, where Mac is snoring away and will probably wake up hungry soon enough, screaming for... Well, either the boob or his bottle, whichever works. Jake still has a hard time really understanding what's so bad about formula milk - if it exists as an option, it can't be that bad?

"My mum always said 'breast is best'..." Amy almost answers his unspoken question while she slumps onto the couch.

"I know you like those kind of mnemonics, but just because it rhymes doesn't make it true." He gets an appreciative glance at the fact that he remembered the word mnemonic, but its still not enough to make Amy smile again. "In the end, I think whatever keeps our little boy healthy and happy is what's best. Not what your mom or anyone else says."

Amy nods, still staring sadly into nothing. Jake sits down next to her, grips her knee and gives it a soft squeeze and a supportive smile as she leans back into him, her head on his shoulder like she so often does to steady herself.

"You're right, I know you are. I can just already hear the whole clan telling me off for 'not doing it right'. Like they did with all the pregnancy stuff already."

He hums, his hand sliding from her knee to her thigh and rubbing there gently.

"Remember what I did when they started that, though?"

At that, Amy stifles a little giggle.

"I remember some very long rants from you and debates in group chats. And once during family dinner. Didn't you tell my brother that unless he gets pregnant himself, he really shouldn't have an opinion on what my uterus does or how I handle it?" She vividly remembers the little gasp her usually so stoic dad did at Jake's very medically-informed word usage. He definitely got some good kisses as a reward for that.

"Yeah." Jake nods. "So if they start again, I'm just gonna double down on that."

She kisses his cheek, finally smiling just a little bit.

"My knight in shining armour." She quips, but there's hint of true appreciation in the joke.

"Anything for you, babe." He grins back. "And for Mac, too, of course."

The aforementioned seems to have heard his name, because there's a very obvious whine from the half open nursery door, which they know is going to evolve into a cry any second. Jake pats Amy's thigh to tell her to stay while he's already getting up.

"We're gonna work it out one way or the other, babe. And if nothing works - look at the bright side: that just means I can take over all night duties if need be. I know how to warm a bottle now, after all."

Amy smiles properly as she watches him walk away and then re-emerge with a only snuffling, not crying infant against his chest. She really couldn't have asked for a better father to her children, she thinks as he still hands Mac over with "Wanna give it a try anyway? “ and she nods.

They're gonna try. It worked itself out the last time, too. Whatever it takes.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #My writing #Ficlet

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

Text

take it out on me - honeybee extra

A/N: I don’t know if anyone has seen the video of those girls throwing water at Harry’s car but first of all fuck them and second that’s so not chill. I got a little upset but then I started thinking about going home with H and having him take it out on you. And then I started writing this piece which was supposed to be for BFHarry’s fic challenge and then it turned into husband and soon to be dad H with Beatrice and Harry! I am forewarning you that this is filthy and I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, Evil “fans”, pregnancy sex, mild choking king, dominant aspects, and cockwarming

Sometime in the fall of 2022

Friday, 6:00 PM, London

Being home in London felt good.

As a little girl, I always dreamed of living in the land of the Queen. I perfected my English accent by the time I was ten, whipping it out at parties and sometimes school plays. When I was 15, a freshman in high school, I auditioned for our school play that would take place in Kent, England. Our sister school would accept us in their homes for six months of the year while we rehearsed and learned together. I was crushed when I didn’t get the part and I was utterly terrified that I would never get the chance to see London or Brighton. But after meeting Harry, it was one of the first serious conversations we had. The third night of our relationship, we were cuddled up in his Malibu home, talking about forever. He mentioned going home to see his Mum after his first solo world tour and though I was upset that he would be so far, I was happy for him.

“I’m gonna tell her about you, you know?” He kissed over my wet cheeks as I sniffled. “Gonna tell my Mum about the girl I met in L.A and how she’s gonna be my wife someday.”

Three days.

That’s how long we had known each other when he said that.

And he wasn’t wrong about it.

I stepped out of my London car with my purse and to go coffee mug in hand. The car was far too expensive for my taste, but Harry insisted on having me drive the safest car on the market. Wanda, my very first Audi SUV, was big enough to fit myself, Harry, and the car seat he had installed for our future son. I dropped a free hand to my stomach, softly caressing my baby bump with a smile on my face. Ellis was kicking up a storm as he normally did around this time. I was done with work and the sun was setting which meant that a talk with Daddy would only be moments away.

“It’s alright little love,” I winced at a particularly hard kick. “Daddy's home, just give me a moment to get inside.”

I let out a heavy sigh, walking up the few steps to our newest home.

It still wasn’t quite ready yet, walls unpainted and furniture askew, but it was home.

I was still working in Milan with Vogue for at least three more weeks and Harry was on his European leg of the tour. I was in town for my doctor’s appointment scheduled for Saturday, and Harry was free of any shows or interview obligations for the weekend. In three weeks, I would officially be home in London and on maternity leave. I would be working from home, skyping with Anna and talking with the board about the new London office, but it would be nice to enjoy some time with Ellis and Harry without any work obligations getting in the way.

“Darling,” I called out, shutting the door behind me with a smile. “Are you home?”

“Just in the kitchen, honeybee!” Harry called out.

I dropped my purse on the table by the front door, dropping my keys inside so they wouldn’t get lost before tomorrow. Next, I slipped off my shoes and then peeled myself out of my jacket. It was by no means freezing in London, but the fall chill was starting to set in. I made my way towards our kitchen, my hands pressed into my bump as my nose picked out the scent of oregano and tomato. Harry’s back was towards me, his hands working on something on the countertop. He looked delectable, as always, his back covered by a black t-shirt and a pair of highwaisted trousers settled on his tiny little hips. With a happy hum, I moved around the kitchen island.

“Hiya squid.” I pressed my lips over his shoulder, pressing my hands to his hips.

“There’s my girl.” He peered over his shoulder, dropping the knife he had been using before reaching for a tea towel. “Gimme a kiss.”

He turned around as I puckered my lips out, kissing him a few times before his hands took over resting on my bump. For a split second, we had a moment to ourselves. But it was over the moment Ellis started kicking around again, angry that he wasn’t greeted by his Daddy before me.

“Ellis, little man, you’ve gotta stop that.” I frowned, glancing down at my belly. “Mummy and Daddy are trying to say hello.”

“Is someone being a little bugger today?” Harry hummed, crouching down until he was at eye level with my belly. “That’s not very nice, Ellie, is it?”

Our son calmed down seconds after hearing Harry’s voice.

“I think he needs you to fall asleep.” I whispered, brushing my fingers through Harry’s hair as he looked up at me. “He’s been kicking around all day so I know he’s tired.”

“S’alright little one.” Harry kissed over my belly a few times before standing up. “Why don’t you get changed into something more comfortable and then settle in on the couch. Dinner is nearly done and I’ll be right there.”

“Alright.” I smiled, humming happily when Harry pressed his lips to mine again. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

Saturday, 10:00 AM; London

Harry and I’s pregnancy wasn’t news to anyone.

Working for Vogue and being Harry Styles’ wife meant that a lot of eyes were on me constantly. Anna suggested biting the bullet and doing a spread for the magazine would be our best option. A few months ago, we agreed. There was a maternity shoot done in our L.A home with me barefoot and pregnant and Harry doting on me as he always did. We did a quick interview on paper, a quick photo shoot, and a small video tour of our home before Anna called it quits. The world went crazy when it all came out, the official announcement on my Instagram promoting the video. Since then, it had been quiet. There wasn’t a lot of fuss over me and Harry was still getting his usual amount of fans at the airport and other places when he traveled, but other than that we were fine.

Until today.

“Mr. Styles,” The receptionist at our OBGYN’s office in London looked nervous. “There’s quite a large crowd of people outside of our building.”

“Bloody hell.” He grumbled under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’ll have it taken care of. I’m very sorry about that, love.”

“S’alright.” She said quickly. “We’ve locked the doors so no one is permitted in and our other patience won’t be her until after lunch. It should be fine.”

“Thank you.” She nodded before retreating from our exam room. “I need to let Jeff know. We need someone to have the car pulled around when we leave.”

“You can go talk to them while we wait, Harry.” I said softly, reaching for his hand. “Or after, even, I don’t mind.”

“M’not really in the mood today.” He mumbled, reaching for his phone. “I want you in the car, untouched and safe more than anything.”

I didn’t argue with him, nodding along as Ellis moved around in my belly.

Harry spent most of the wait typing on his phone, no doubt talking with Jeff. I sat there anxiously, twiddling with my fingers while I waited for our doctor to come in. Another ultrasound would be happening today and we would be going over the final steps of my pregnancy and birth plan. When Dr. Hillcrest stepped inside, my heart rate increased. Harry put his phone away, reaching for my hand as she greeted us.

“So, how have you been feeling Mummy?” She asked, sitting down on her stool with her clipboard in hand. “Any braxton hicks?”

“Once or twice.” I nodded. “First time I thought I was in labor, scared the hell out of me.”

“It is quite scary when you’re not used to it.” She chuckled. “As we’re nearing the end of your third trimester, there are some things we need to go over. We’re doing tests for Glaucoma, Anemia, Hep B, and a few other things. We’ll be going over the final steps of your birth plan today as well. Have you toured any of the hospital’s in Milan?”

“Yes, I did a few last week.” I nodded. “I’ve decided on Mangiagalli.”

“Perfect.” She said. “I’ll get in contact with the head of the Maternity Ward today and I’ll make sure they have all of the information.”

“We’re really hoping he’s not born in Milan.” Harry chuckled softly. “It would be a bit odd to have him there while Beatrice is trying to close out the office.”

“Odd is a very nice way to say it.” I laughed. “But I’m glad we’re prepared.”

“Babies wait for no one.” Dr. Hillcrest let out a soft chuckle. “I hope you don’t deliver there either, I would love to be there with you when you deliver.”

It took another hour or two before we were finished in the office.

I was told that in about four weeks, I would need to stop flying.

That gave me plenty of time to get things finished up in Milan before making it home to London. Harry had plenty of questions for Dr. Hillcrest and I was thankful that he remembered all the ones I wanted to ask as well. When we were done with the testing and the ultrasound, Harry helped me slip back into my comfortable clothes before lacing his fingers with mine. The nervous smile he gave me meant there was still a crowd outside that we had to deal with. I squeezed his finger, reassuring him that no matter what happened, we would be fine.

“The car is up front.” He said softly. “We’re getting you in first and then me. No stopping, no talking, just get in the car.”

“Alright.” I said softly. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He kissed me quickly before leading me outside.

The cheering increased, loud screams and Harry’s name being chanted nearly shocked me. I hadn’t seen a crowd this big outside of a building before. I glanced over at Harry, my heart rate picking up a little as he talked to a man dressed in all black. Harry glanced back at me, pulling me closer to his side before ushering me to the car. He opened the passenger side door for me, shielding my body from the crowd as my hands started to shake. He reached for my seat belt, his eyes full of worry and anxiety.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He cooed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “S’gonna be alright. Just give me a minute, yeah?”

“I love you.” I said, reluctant to let his hand go.

“I know, honey.” His lips pressed into mine. “You’ve gotta let go so I can get in, okay?”

I nodded weakly, loosening my grip up.

Harry shut the door and I tried to avoid looking out the window, but there was a crowd of girls moving in closer and closer. I was afraid that they would get to the door before I did, but I couldn’t lock Harry out. I gasped when the drivers side door opened, snapping my head around to see Harry. He locked the doors before flipping the car in drive. Seconds after we started moving, I heard thudding against the side of the car door. My anxiety was washed away by anger, water splashing against the side of the car as they continued to throw their bottles at us.

“Fucking hell.” I snapped, my fingers balling up into fists. “That’s just ridiculous.”

Harry didn’t say a word, peeling out of the lot and onto the streets of London.

He was careful not to speed the entire way home, but I could tell that he wanted to.

At some point, his hand landed on my thigh, squeezing firmly as his jaw clenched. I watched the profile of his face, worried more about how he was taking it than myself. These were his fans that had pissed him off. They had come to close for comfort and they had crossed a line when they started throwing things at us. When we made it home, he slammed the car into the park before getting out. Gently, he helped me out of the car, his hand landing right on my bump as my feet hit the ground. The small action sparked something in me, a pool of wetness beginning to form between my thighs. When we made it in the house, Harry started to move away from me.

“Wait,” I said, holding his hand tightly. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna go blow off some steam.” He said. “I’m fucking livid.”

“I know.” I nodded. “Take it out on me.”

“What?” He said, his wild eyes growing wider as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’m not gonna do that, Beatrice.”

“I want you to take it out on me, Harry.” I stepped forward, reaching for his other hand. “Fuck me.”

“Beatrice, no.” He said. “What happens if I’m too rough? What happens if I lose-”

“As if I would let you do anything to harm me seriously, Harry.” I scoffed. “You’ll be fine and I promise to tell you if it’s too much. But please, fuck me.”

His chest was heaving as he looked down at me, his lips shiny from licking and biting over them nervously in the car. He let out a soft curse before lunging forward, his hands grabbing my face firmly. I whimpered in relief when he pressed his lips into mine, his tongue showing no mercy as it explored my mouth. It had been weeks since we made love and months since we’d had a proper fuck. Things were more tender for us in the bedroom, Harry’s fear of harming me or Ellis ever present at the front of his mind. When my bum collided with the couch, I knew I was going to get what I wanted from him. Harry pulled his lips from mine, tugging my shirt over my head quickly.

My leggings were next to go, my hands pressed into his shoulders as I clumsily stepped out of them. I didn’t bother with a bra or panties, knowing that our only stop would be the doctor's office today. When Harry’s head disappeared past my bump, I whined. Seconds later, I felt his teeth scraping over my thigh before lightly biting down. I welcomed the sting, a rush of warmth flooding over me as my pussy began to throb before him. Harry pulled back when I started to move my hips closer to his face, wanting to feel his tongue caressing my clit.

“Not now.” He growled out, standing up. “Upstairs, on the bed.”

“What?” I squeaked out, sure that I would get my proper fucking right here. “What’s wrong with the floor?”

“Now, Beatrice.” He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, his voice stern. “On all fours.”

When I turned around reluctantly, pouting at the missed opportunity for floor sex, I felt a sharp smack on my ass. I cried out, glancing back at Harry as I pressed my hand over my bum. Harry smirked at me, crossing his arms as I waddled away with narrowed eyes. I had asked for it and I was definitely going to get what I wanted. I climbed up the stairs slowly, waddling towards our bedroom. When I made it to our bed, I did as I was told. My hands and knees pressed into the plush mattress, our duvet soft on the skin of my knees. Maybe this was better than the floor.

After a few moments, Harry was pushing into the room behind me. He wasted no time stripping himself down before kneeling on the bed behind me. I opened my mouth, prepared to make a smart comment about him being eager, but I was cut off before I could even speak. The head of his cock pushed into me first and then the rest followed. I gasped, dropping my head forward as his hips collided with mine. I clenched my eyes shut, welcoming the feeling of Harry’s length.

“Always squeeze me so good.” Harry moaned out behind me and I could imagine he’d dropped his head back in bliss. “Hold tight for me, yeah? Tell me if it’s too much, Beatrice. Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” I gasped out as he pulled away, his cock leaving my walls vacant and begging for more. It didn’t last long before was fucking into me again, harder this time as his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips. “Oh!”

Harry’s soft grunts and the force of his thrusts had me sitting on cloud nine. I was enjoying the pounding I was getting, his hips slapping against mine as he gave me everything he had. I was a babbling mess below him, begging for more, harder, faster, please! Harry met my every need, angling his hips perfectly so that he was hitting every spot within me that I needed to be satisfied. It didn’t take long for me to cum around him, my walls fluttering without warning as my arms started to grow weak. Harry was quick to mold his chest to my back, pulling me up until my head was dropped back on his shoulder. He had no problem fucking me just as hard as I came around his cock.

“V’got you honey,” He nipped at my ear. “I’ve got you. Gonna make you cum again for me, okay? Can you do one more for me?”

I nodded, but that wasn’t enough.

“Say it.” He grunted, sliding the hand that was holding my belly up to my throat. “Use your words.”

“Please, Harry.” I whimpered as his fingers rested over my throat. “Make me cum again.”

“Good girl.” His teeth raked over the skin of my shoulder before he bit down on me, a loud moan tearing from my throat. “There’s my girl, so fucking good for me all the time.”

“Yes, yes.” I cried out as he delivered a few thrusts that were harder than the others. “M’gonna cum, M’gonna-”

“Do it.” He said. “Cum on my cock honey. Give me a good one.”

A flash of white took over my senses as I tightened around his cock.

I wasn’t sure if I had moaned, my mouth dropped open as I reached out for Harry’s hand on my hips. My body jerked against his as he stilled inside of me, grunting loudly in my ear as his hips flexed forward. He pushed his cum inside of me, almost as if he was trying to put another baby in me. When I finally came back to my senses, Harry was slipping out of my walls and I was crying.

“No, no.” I sniffled, reaching back for his hips. “Stay.”

“Honey, I’m...I can’t.”

A soft sob ripped out of my throat and seconds later, Harry was guiding my body to the bed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” His hands were flying all over my body, pressing into my skin to make sure I was fine. He settled his palm on my belly, his eyes wide with fear. “What hurts?”

“I just wanted you to stay in me.” I sniffled, reaching up to wipe under my eyes. “I’m so empty now.”

“Oh, honey.” He collapsed on the bed next to me, kissing over my face. “It’s alright, it’s gonna be alright.”

I curled myself into his chest, digging my fingers into his sides as he covered our naked bodies with the throw at the end of our bed. He pressed gentle kisses over my forehead, brushing his hand up and down my back in soothing circles to try and calm me down. Rationally, I knew it was pregnancy hormones, but I still felt empty without his cock in me.

“Turn around fo’ me.” He whispered, patting my thigh. I did as he said, turning on my side as another sob pulled from my throat. “It’s alright, honey. Lift your leg up and put it on the pillow.”

He guided one under my leg, brushing his hand softly over my thigh as he moved his front closer to my back. Seconds later, I felt the head of his cock at my entrance.

“Hold on, sweet girl.” He whispered. “You ready?”

I nodded my head, reaching back to hold onto his hip as he slipped inside of me, harder than he had been earlier when we started our little escapade.

“So fucking tight, honey.” He whimpered into my ear. “S’that what you wanted?”

“Yes.” I gasped out wetly, nodding my head. “S’full.”

“Love you so much, Beatrice.” He whispered as I started to drift off. “Close your eyes for me honey, go to sleep.

“Love you, too.”

#honeybee #smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles original fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #my writing

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

U N P L A N N E D, part five

An unexpected phone call from Harry while he was out of town certainly wasn’t what your rising level of hormones needed. You were seven weeks pregnant, nauseous at random times in the day, and still incredibly tight lipped about the tiny pea-sized human inside of you.

But the phone call wasn’t really what had you in tears--it was his request for a FaceTime call so you could meet his mum and his sister. He promised that they were shocked but excited nonetheless, happy that you weren’t a complete stranger and certainly not just a random hook up.

Okay, so I guess he’s a liar, Lexi laughed, unintentionally dredging up the embarrassment that slept in the pit of your stomach.

But he swore they were excited, especially once he promised you that he didn’t make it sound like you were a longtime friend or a girlfriend. Don’t lie to them about how we know each other, Harry, don’t make it sound like this wasn’t an accident.

So when the call came across your phone, you swallowed the panic and the nausea and hoped for the best. Lexi and Glenne sipped margaritas at the counter and pretended they weren’t there. They wrote notes on paper and slid suggestions your way. Ask about what they’ve done as a family while he’s home. Say you can’t wait to meet them in person!

It was fine enough--they wished you well and promised to meet face to face soon. His mother cried a bit and said she was happy--shocked, I’m not going to lie, but happy nonetheless.

So you didn’t expect to hear from him for a few days. He’d be home on Sunday--he’d mentioned it in passing on the FaceTime call--so you were sure you’d have time to settle and prepare for whatever was upcoming.

But when your phone rang on the counter Thursday night, Lexi was eating a bowl of cereal in her underwear in front of an SVU marathon. You slid your thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

His voice was quiet, you tried to do the math of what time it was there. “Hi--s’me.”

“Hi,” you paused to stand over the sink, your back to Lexi for whatever sliver of privacy your apartment could afford.

“What are you up to?”

“Just got home from work, actually. We’re just gonna hang out tonight, kind of tired, honestly.”

He hummed in response, you could hear the sleep in his voice. You wondered where he was. In bed? About to brush his teeth? You didn’t ask why he called.

“Do you feel alright?”

“Yeah,” you reassured. “I’m fine. Kind of nauseous and just more tired than usual--but I think that’s normal.”

“Right. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know,” you laughed. “It’s been a minute. What have you been up to?”

“A lot of meetings, honestly. Spent a few nights in London for a photoshoot for the album cover, merch stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

You held the phone in place with your shoulder, shifting over to the fridge to find an appetizing snack. “That sounds cool--better than getting angry emails about your font choice.”

“Yeah I can’t say I’ve experienced that. But look, I, uh, I’m glad you got to talk to my family the other night.”

You paused, a swell of emotion in your eyes. It might not have been your most cherished social interaction to date, but he hadn’t said anything to make you think it had crashed and burned. “Me too, it was almost sort of fun--aside from all the crying I’m doing.”

Lexi’s ears perked up at that, she made a face from the living room. If she didn’t know who was on the phone, she did now.

“Right,” he laughed. “S’the hormones, I guess, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “When do you think I could, you know, see you again?”

“Dunno,” You sighed, a rush of heat on your cheeks. “You’re back Sunday and it’s a busy week at work, next week. So, maybe next weekend or something?”

“Yeah--okay, I just, miss you, is all.”

“Oh--uh, yeah, it’s been forever,” you looked over at Lexi, still pretending like she was watching TV and not eavesdropping. You didn’t know if you should say it back. Did you miss him? Sure--maybe you felt a little weird not knowing what he was up to or not wanting to text him about new symptoms, but--you didn’t know if that counted as missing him. In all honesty, you were kind of surprised he said it.

So you settled on something in between. “Yeah--I can’t wait for you to come home. Or, back to LA, I guess.”

“I can stop by, when I land, if you’re around Sunday.”

“Yeah--I should be here, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“What time is it?”

“One in the morning,” he stifled a laugh. “I saw my dad for dinner tonight--hung out with my sister. Just getting to sleep now and wanted to see how you were.”

You licked at your lips, trying to ignore the spark in your veins when you realized that he was thinking about you. You were out of sight, but not out of mind. You expected to be out of both.

“Alright--well, I’m fine. You can sleep, you sound tired.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay--so I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then, Harry. Night.”

You hung up and set it down on the counter, surprised at the smile on your face.

Lexi looked up from the bowl of cereal she had on her lap. Eyes wide, she held your gaze for a second. “You are so catching feelings, homegirl.”

You made a face, a scoff before you retorted. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are!” She put the bowl on the coffee table and crawled over on the cushions to get a better view of you in the kitchen. “I had fun too, that sounds so cool, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

You rolled your eyes--her impression of you wasn’t too far off, but she managed to raise the octave of your voice when she twirled a piece of her hair around a finger.

“I’m being nice to him, he’s the father of my unborn child, is that okay?”

“More than fine,” she laughed, waving a hand at you. “That’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard.”

You settled on a spoonful of peanut butter to hold you over until dinner. You uncapped the lid of the jar. “It’s nothing, okay? We’re friends. Don’t you think we need to be friends if we’re having a baby?”

“Y/N, look--” she stood from the couch and came over to the island, watching as you dipped a spoon inside. “I love you, with all my heart. I love the little lump of cells in your uterus--and I would regret it if I didn’t say that you and Harry falling in love would just about make my 2019 altogether.”

You shoved it in your mouth and spoke around it. “Alright, well, don’t hold your breath.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, dismissing your comment before she turned to go back to the couch. “You’re obnoxious.”

“I’m reasonable and rational. Just because I got over my whole hating him phase doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

“Okay, first off, you never hated him. So I don’t even know who you’re trying to play.”

“Well I didn’t really like him at first. And I definitely didn’t like the idea of being pregnant with a stranger’s baby, okay? This has been a weird two months.”

“Exactly. You’re two months pregnant with a popstar’s baby--one who happens to be cute and rich and charming as fuck! And you’re saying you’re not gonna catch any feelings.”

You shook your head. It wasn’t like that. “I’m co-existing with the father of my child and being friendly. We’ve hung out, what? Maybe like, seven times? And two of which were to sign paperwork about how I won’t sue him or blackmail him and another two were for doctors appointments? That’s not exactly for fun, Lexi.”

You didn’t mean to sound so defensive--but maybe you were saying it for your good as well as hers. No one needed to get their hopes up, especially not you.

She laughed, reached for the remote to unmute her show. “Okay--well, when you wake up one day and realize you’ve got it bad for him, don’t say I didn’t call it.”

“Okay,” you promised sarcastically, “I’ll be sure to tell you when that happens.”

He didn’t stop by after the airport like he’d said. His flight was delayed and by the time he landed you were fast asleep, though you did wake up to a few messages.

Harry (11:56pm): I just landed, took so long, I’m sorry. Are you up?

Harry (12:02am): I’d still love to stop by if you are.

Harry (12:04am): I’ll see you soon xx

You replied the next morning, promising that it was fine and you were asleep and you’d definitely, certainly see him soon. You didn’t tell Lexi that you really wanted to.

So you had to make an excuse when she asked if you wanted to meet her for dinner on Melrose, and then you had to dodge Simone on your way out of the office on Monday.

“You were such a help today,” she said, catching up with you when you flicked off the lights in your office and shut the door. “I never thought Carson would admit that he made a mistake, but, there’s a first for everything.”

You had your work bag over your shoulder, sunglasses on your head when you laughed. “I’m glad he took me seriously, for once.”

“You’ve been busy lately--I feel like you’re never here.”

Her comment wasn’t loaded, Simone was always encouraging everyone to have a better work-life balance.

“I know--I’ve had a lot going on, but I’m all good.”

“You sure? Do you need help with anything?”

“No--I finalized that ad today for the new line of home tech, so--we should be fine.”

“Okay,” she smiled, a sliver of skepticism in her eyes. “Where are you off to now?”

“A friend’s,” you said casually. Not a lie. “Haven’t seen him in forever, so--just catching up.” Not completely a lie.

She raised her eyebrows a bit. “A male friend? That’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not, I swear. But I should go--the 405 is already a shit show, so.”

“Yeah, okay,” she fell into step beside you, pulling off at her office door that was only a few steps down the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The parking lot was full and the Southern California sun beat down on the pavement--you called your mom on your way to Harry’s and asked if hot flashes came along with being pregnant. She was glad you got to FaceTime with his family, but jealous, she admitted. I’ll come to town when they do, she promised. We’ll all go out to brunch!

The drive up through the hills was nice, windows down, radio hummed and made you feel as if all was normal. The butterflies didn’t kick in until you parked and walked up the front steps.

He greeted you at the door, hair coiffed in the afternoon sun. He squinted, lips turned up at the corners when he let his eyes sweep over your figure. “Hi,” an outstretched arm to offer you a platonic side-hug. “How was work?”

“Fine,” you said, stepping inside the air conditioned walls. You let your work bag fall onto the floor beside you. “My coworkers definitely know that something is up.”

You were surprised when a look of panic didn’t cross his face. He laughed, headed over past the stairs and into the kitchen. “Yeah--why’s that?”

“Cause I’ve had to work from home a fair amount and I don’t tell them why.”

His forehead creased, worry on his face as if something was wrong.

“Just when I have a doctor’s appointment or something,” you reassured. “But normally I’d tell them why and I haven’t and then today when I was leaving, Simone--she’s on my team--asked why I was in a hurry to leave.”

“And?” He grabbed a glass from a sleek black cupboard, placed it beneath the faucet.

“I just said I was seeing a friend.”

He handed the glass over, now filled three-quarters of the way with water. He raised his eyebrows in a triumphant smirk.

“What?”

“You called me your friend.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think that baby daddy would be appropriate.”

“Fair,” he leaned his head to the side and watched as you sipped the water. After a second, he turned his back, stopped to look over a piece of paper on the counter. “Well, I’m gonna make us some dinner. Figured you might be sick of In N’ Out and seeing as take away is the only low key option, prepare yourself for a culinary masterpiece.”

You swallowed the water quickly, trying to hide the shock on your face. “Do you cook, like, ever?”

He turned around, offended. “What? Y/N are you kidding? Of course I cook.”

“Well I didn’t know if you have someone do that sort of thing for you.”

He made another face, blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Take a seat,” he said finally, motioning to a stool on the other side of his island. “Watch.”

He diced onion, chopped up carrots. What is this? You teased. Chicken soup?

But you were close--a roast chicken dish that his grandmother had passed down to his mom. My specialty, he promised. So you sat there for a while, you told him about Carson and the rude emails, about the possible promotion and your nervousness about what would happen when--you know--there was someone else involved.

“Someone else?”

“A child,” you said. “You know, that thing in my uterus that we saw the other week. It’s gonna be super different when it’s here. He or she or they or whoever. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be Team Lead if I have a baby on my nipple.”

Another smirk, then a shrug. “We can get a nanny.”

“No--I don’t--we don’t need that.”

“Well--if I’m going to be on tour at some point next year and you’re getting promoted, we might need some help.”

You hadn’t ever thought that far ahead. Not past the possibility of being pregnant at work and eventually having to tell everyone that you were, in fact, pregnant. “We have friends and family, though. I don’t want my baby raised by a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t be a stranger, love,” he picked up a pair of tongs, stirred the contents inside the pan. “It’d be a nanny.”

“Well, I think it’s too soon to go there.”

He let the tongs rest on the counter. A moment of silence passed between you.

That’s when you looked around, looked over your shoulder at the living room behind you. The arm of the couch you sat on in a tight dress--the coffee table you’d left your drink on that night when he showed you the bedroom upstairs.

“I haven’t actually been in here since that night,” you said, your words floated towards the ceiling, large windows overlooked the backyard, a pool, sleek white chairs to lay in the sun.

“You stood in the foyer when you told me.”

You laughed, looked over your shoulder at him. He was leaned against the counter, sunlight giving you a good look at the ink on his arms. “I kind of wiped that day from my memory.”

“I can show you--upstairs--if you want.”

“The scene of the crime?”

“The conception of our child,” he said, pointed a finger in the air to correct you. He motioned with his chin towards the stairs, started walking before you agreed. “Come on.”

So you hopped off the stool, followed him up the large staircase that twisted around itself, bringing you up to a hardwood landing and a long hall. The master ensuite was at the end, apparently, he pointed out guest rooms and a home office before he opened a set of double doors.

“Wow,” you said, almost more to yourself than to him.

He snickered, “you’ve seen it before, remember?”

“Yeah, but, I was drunk and it was dark.”

You didn’t remember the view--but you did remember him pressing a button on a remote somewhere to draw the curtains. He laughed and fell onto the bed that night, insisting that you must have been a real trooper to put up with Lexi running lines at all hours of the night prior to big auditions.

“Yeah--well this is it,” he said, a few steps forward towards the end of the king sized bed. “Bathroom’s over there, good tub.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable, like somehow you were both back in that night, ghosts of your past selves tangled in the sheets.

“Yeah--definitely quite a romantic spot, so, I don’t blame us that night.”

You laughed at that, rolled your eyes when he walked over to the floor to ceiling windows, crossed his arms and took in the view of Los Angeles. You shrugged. “I mean--we could have done a few things better.”

“Hey,” he chastised, turning around with a smirk on his face. “It was a magical night!”

“Right--if you count the drunken fumbling and then, you know, the whole conceiving a child thing.”

“We were drunk but it was still--good.”

An awkward beat, pink on your cheeks before you turned around to look at the white duvet. He had to say that, right? He definitely couldn’t say it was bad or he didn’t remember or something.

“I remember almost falling off the bed at one point.”

“Right after I took your bra off--you tried to make sure it wasn’t improperly folded,” he choked back a laugh, a knowing look on his face about how you tended to be with neatness. “But in full transparency, Y/N, I wasn’t really worried about how it was folded. I was more just trying to kiss you.”

You ignored the look on his face, one that made you feel like he was flirting with you. “Then I remember you putting on a condom--like you should.”

“Right, grabbed it from the bedside table,” he went over and opened the drawer, pulling out a black and gold box, tiny foil squares inside.

You sighed at the sight of them--the tiny devices that should have kept this from happening. A few steps forward, an extended hand to look at the box. “99% effective my ass.”

You flipped it over in your hands, he let out a sigh.

“Harry, hold on--is this, it says expires 2018. It’s 2019.”

“What?” He reached for the box and took it out of your hands quickly, holding it closer to his face this time to look at the tiny, black numbers on the side. “Fuck.”

“Are you kidding?” You stepped back from him. “You had expired condoms and we had sex with an expired condom and that’s why this happened?”

You weren’t as angry as you sounded, mostly shocked and annoyed and honestly, sort of nauseous from all of the scents that followed you up from the kitchen.

“I didn’t know--I obviously wouldn’t have used them if I knew--I just, I hadn’t been here in a while before then!”

You let out a sigh and squeezed your eyes shut, pinched at the bridge of your nose.

He stepped towards you, his voice filled with concern. “Is something wrong? Are you sick?”

You opened your eyes quickly, offered him a death glare. “No--I just can’t believe you’re that stupid!”

He rolled his eyes at that, tossed the box on the bed and let his hands fall against his sides. “Well, my apologies, then. It’s all my fault.”

“No--I’m not, I’m sorry, it’s just,” you opened your eyes now, rubbed at them a few times before letting him come back into focus. “That explains it. Now we know. It’s no one’s fault.”

He sat on the bed, a tiny laugh from between his lips. “I mean, it’s sort of mine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, dimples on his cheeks when he looked up at you. You sat beside him on the bed and let your back hit the mattress. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You stared at the ceiling, hoping that deep breaths would quell the nausea inside of you. In, out, in, out. Another plane was visible out the window, taking off this time, nose pointed towards the sky, bringing the people inside far away from a busy Los Angeles.

“You know,” he turned around, pulled a knee up onto the duvet when he stared down at you. His voice was quiet and the sun that seeped through the windows gave him a bit of a glow. “I have a feeling that one day we won’t regret it as much as we do right now.”

The word already left a bad taste in your mouth--regret. It was that stupid tracking app--as soon as you started seeing fruit sizes, you were done for. You could regret it or wish it hadn’t happened but the truth was that you were here and it was real and you already felt a growing love for the lump of cells that had attached to your uterine lining.

“I know,” you said quietly.

More silence. He watched you for a second until you stood up, heading back to the kitchen, suddenly hungry for dinner and desperate for more water.

“This is bullshit,” you said later that night, feet up on the coffee table when he flipped through channels on TV. “Haven’t you seen those things where the guy doesn’t drink throughout the pregnancy either, cause he’s a good partner?” You caught the word as soon as it slipped out. “Not that--you know--just that most people are married in this situation.”

“I know what you mean,” he didn’t even look over at you, settled on Jeopardy before he put down the remote and picked up the glass of wine that he’d nursed through dinner. “That’s a big ask, Y/N.”

“Having your child because you used an expired condom is a big ask, Harry.”

He raised his glass of wine towards you, as if to cheers. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it was no one’s fault?”

“Well--it’s your fault I can’t have a glass of cabernet.”

He leaned over, let a hand rest on your thigh and looked you in the eyes. “When she’s here and you can drink, I’ll buy you all the wine you want.”

A thump in your chest--you’d kept yourself from taking a guess. “She’s a she?”

“Don’t you think?” He let go now, moved back to his seat and picked up his wine casually before he reached to check his phone.

“I hadn’t thought at all, really, about it. One way or another.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

“Do you want it to be a girl?”

He pushed his lips out in thought. “No preference. Just a feeling.”

A pause--the daily double logo flashed on the screen. “Do you want to find out at some point?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. I don’t know when they can tell, so.”

“Me neither. We don’t have to.”

He changed the subject, then. Asked about Lexi and promised you that Jeff wasn’t upset. He had another glass of wine and showed you pictures from his trip home. One of him and his sister on a hike--another with his mom and her cat, socked feet on their couch one night after dinner.

His world was a strange one--far away from yours but somehow it had already fully collided. At 9:30pm you decided it was best to head home. Traffic would be light if you were lucky, but a 7am wake up call was waiting on the other side of sleep. He handed you the work bag you’d dropped on the floor and offered a closed lip smile. “Can I see you again soon?”

You hesitated, slung the strap over your shoulder and tried to come up with the right response. “Yeah--I mean, if you want. I know you’re busy, you don’t--like--have to hang out with me, remember?”

He shook his head, his tone a bit harsh when he searched your eyes for an answer. “I want to--why is that so impossible for you to swallow?”

“It’s not impossible--I just, I don’t know. We don’t really know each other and we don’t have to pretend like this is anything other than what it is.”

“I want to know you. You’re the mother of my child, Y/N.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay,” you said, defeated. You didn’t know if you believed him. You wanted to. But the hormones in your system were likely untrustworthy. Getting to know him meant you could like it, like him. It meant you could get attached and getting attached meant you could get hurt. You pushed the thought out of your head. You were thinking about it too much already. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Jeff watched as you sat in the chair, a rubber band tied tight around your arm. “He’ll be here,” he said. “He’s just running late, I guess.”

You nodded, hoping the nurse with blue gloves wouldn’t get excited when she saw who Jeff was referring to.

They’d decided the paternity test would be done by a third-party lab. Another doctor’s office, this time in Burbank. Jeff watched as the needle slid into your vein, a vial in the nurse’s hand soon filled.

A knock on the door, another nurse with Harry in tow once the first vial had been replaced with a second. “Hi,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Sorry--I was doing some stuff with Emma at the house.”

You waved awkwardly, left arm still held in the hands of the nurse. She smiled in his direction, you’d watched her sign the NDA that Jeff had brought, a letter from Dave’s office, a watermark made it official.

How awkward, you thought. Various people here and there now knew. Dr. Weston’s office. These nurses. You wondered when there’d be the inevitable meeting about coming out with it. What would be said when something finally leaked? How would you keep your privacy or your sanity when people wanted more information from you?

“Okay,” the nurse smiled, a wad of gauze over the crook of your elbow. “All set.”

“Am I up?” Harry took a step forward, ready to climb into the chair.

“Just a cheek swab, from you,” she replied, setting the second vial in a stand beside the first. She stuck a label on to each of them, reached for a long q-tip and then turned around. Harry opened his mouth, looked around awkwardly when she held his chin and then rubbed at the inside of his cheek.

You crossed your arms, “everything the man has to do is easier with this stuff, isn’t it?”

Jeff laughed at that, shrugged a bit before the nurse let go of Harry’s face. He moved his tongue around a bit, smacking his lips together as if the swab had a bad taste.

It was awkward, the whole thing. Apparently Dave had decided that Jeff should chaperone, watch you get poked and prodded to ensure that the results were accurate. Nothing had changed in Harry’s demeanor, and if you took his words at face value, he trusted you. Believed you. So why, of all people, was Jeff not?

Pam--that’s what the nametag on her scrubs said--set the swab in a tube. “So we’ll send this off now and the results will be mailed to the address you listed in 5-10 business days.”

“It’s going to Dave’s office,” Jeff informed the two of you. “He’ll call you both with the results.”

You grabbed your purse and you were all on your way to the parking lot to find your separate cars in the warm sun. You wanted to ask them if they really thought you were lying, ask if you were allowed to say I told you so when the results came back. Glenne promised it was just a legal requirement. Nothing to do with you, she said. They’d make anyone do it.

“I’m supposed to meet Glenne for lunch,” Jeff said, a hand over his eyes when he turned around. “If you guys want to join.”

You looked over at Harry, were they your friends or his? If you’d been worried about people having to choose sides, now was the moment it came to fruition. Harry stood in the parking lot, sunglasses on his face when he seemed to wait for your response. Could you both go?

“Oh--I don’t--you can go, Harry. I should go home anyway. Lexi and I said we’d clean today.”

“I think Lexi’s coming,” Jeff pulled his phone out of his pocket to check a text. “Yeah--Glenne said we’re meeting at Fin’s for brunch.”

“You can ride with me, Y/N,” Harry stepped forward now, still waiting for you to make a call. Hesitation, a nervousness in your stomach about what Jeff thought of it all. Would he allow you to go in the same car? Or was that somehow against something you’d signed?

But the nervousness felt like nausea and the nausea sometimes felt like hunger. So you went.

Not because your apartment wasn’t a mess, but mostly because you knew Lexi’d give you shit if you bailed. You promised yourself you’d give her shit for roping you into a group outing. She knew what she was doing. When she agreed to tag along she knew she’d signed you up for it, too.

“If she’s not then I’m not,” Harry smiled up at the waiter, shut his menu in front of him before smiling over at you.

“You can get a mimosa,” you rolled your eyes in response. Lexi’s manicured hands clapped together when Glenne ordered a pitcher for the table.

“M’fine, water’s fine.”

The waiter disappeared and you ignored the smirk on Lexi’s face.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he turned to you again, voice quieter as if the rest of the table wasn’t listening. “I can definitely go nine months.”

“Without alcohol? Yeah, right,” Glenne laughed. “You’ll make it two weeks before you want a glass of Merlot.”

“I’ll be fine,” he scoffed, sunglasses still on his face beneath the terraced patio. “I don’t even like Merlot.”

Glenne made a face and Jeff leaned forward. “You really think you can go nine months without drinking?”

Harry set his elbows on the table, narrowed his eyes. “Care to make it interesting?”

“Place your bets, everyone,” Glenne let out a laugh and reached for the water that had already been delivered.

“Two weeks,” you said quickly. Another shocked look from Harry when turned to see you.

“Two weeks?! You think I’m spineless, don’t you?”

“I watched you house two glasses of wine the other night after dinner.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows at that--Glenne seemed to give Lexi a look. You tried to backtrack, suddenly worried that maybe they weren’t supposed to know you and Harry had spent some time together outside of meetings and doctors appointments.

“Whatever, how long do you think you can go?” You pushed the attention back to Harry, he shifted in his seat beside you.

“Nine months,” He nodded. “I think I can do it.”

“I give you two months,” Jeff sighed. “Tops.”

“I vote eight months,” Lexi said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “I think your downfall will be Christmas and New Years.”

“That counts as nine months if it’s New Years,” Harry said. “She’s due in January!”

“I vote halfway. Four or five months,” Glenne leaned back and watched him.

You sipped at your water, a bit resentful about all of it. Here they were, all talking as if everything was normal. As if Harry’s lawyer hadn’t painted you to be a liar. As if the problem here was your negligence or greed, not the expired condoms in Harry’s bedside table. As if you didn’t feel out of place at a fancy restaurant in North Hollywood, likely the only person at the table who couldn’t afford an early retirement.

Harry het a land rest on your knee beneath the table. “I’ll do my best, and whoever’s closest, I’ll buy you a nice dinner.”

“That’s all?” Jeff teased. “No yacht or car?”

“I’ll take you to Nobu,” he raised his eyebrows, giving Jeff a look he apparently couldn’t resist.

“So I have a question, then,” Glenne changed the subject, her voice quieter than it was before. “Have you thought about any names?”

“No,” you said quickly, hands folded in your lap. Harry fumbled with his napkin but watched as you spoke. “We don’t even--we don’t have the results yet.” You motioned back to the street--back towards the chair and the tiny room with fluorescent lights--as if you couldn’t do any sort of planning until it was settled. The parentage, as Dave had said.

Glenne nodded, lips pursed in a line. She knew where you stood with it--she thought it was just as shitty as unfair as you did, but she was stuck in the middle. “Sweetie--we know you wouldn’t lie about it, it’s just--”

You looked at Jeff quickly, pulled your eyes back to Glenne. The waiter appeared with three glasses, placed them right in front of Lexi as if she’d drink all three. She rubbed her hands together when they were poured.

Jeff shrugged and offered you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s shitty and awkward,” he said. “But just think about what a shit show it could be if we didn’t test it. I mean--it’s you, I get that. You’re not just some random person or something, but--we’d be stupid to not just make sure.”

“I know,” you said. “I get it.”

“Once the results are back next week Dave will lighten up,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Harry was quiet, watched as Lexi handed the last mimosa over to Jeff. After a second, he shrugged. “I like Vienna.”

You turned to look at him quickly. “Vienna? As a name?”

He nodded.

“No,” you said. “I don’t like it.”

“Or Jane. Simple, pretty.”

Lexi looked at him like he had three heads. “You already decided it’ll be a girl?”

He nodded, shifted to look at you as if he couldn’t be any more serious. “She knows I’m right.”

“No I don’t,” you laughed. “He’s crazy. If you’re worried about one of us being a nut job, it’s him,” you looked directly at Jeff.

Harry held up his glass of water, pushed it towards the center of the table. Glenne raised her mimosa, she laughed when Lexi took a gulp before clinking hers into the circle.

“Here’s to me being a nut job, then,” Harry laughed. “Even though I’m right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I’m posting off schedule right now cause I know folks are home and looking for some positivity. So if you’ve got nothing else to do, read some fanfic!! Stay the fuck home, y’all. I’m a nurse. I mean it.

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo

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megabadbunny · 4 years

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Of Turns and Tides (Or: One Time The Doctor Was A Giant Arse About Rose's Pregnancy, and Five Times He Wasn't)

Because I don't necessarily think Rose and the metacrisis Doctor would have any children, but if they did, I can't imagine it would go quite the way it's portrayed in The Turning of the Tide. SFW version on FF.net.

Also this fic is dedicated to @davinasgirlfriend, whose patience with me is a blessed fucking virtue. Go read her stuff. She's an absolute doll. <3 <3 <3

***

It’s not like they weren’t careful—Rose has got her shot, after all, and honestly after everything the Cannon put her through, she’s sort of surprised everything still works in there, reproductively-speaking—but it’s just her luck that he would have some sort of Time Lord supersperm in addition to everything else.

“I’m pregnant,” she replies when he asks, in that sometimes-perfunctory way of his, how she’s doing this morning, amidst the bustle of making his tea and his toast and poring over the reports streaming into his mobile. He’s fully dressed (of course he is, bloody morning person) but Rose is still in her pyjamas (if one qualifies one of the Doctor’s tee shirts as her pyjamas, which she does), watching him as he drifts about with his eyes glued to his phone. Rose sits very still, clutching the pregnancy test, has been ever since it cheerfully gave her its diagnosis a few moments prior, and she’s trying not to think about how gross it is, really, that she’s more or less sitting at the kitchen table with a wee-stick in hand, even if it is dry by now. She reminds herself to scrub off extra hard in the bath, give everything in the kitchen a good solid wipedown later.

“How about you?” Rose asks, tapping the test nervously against her thigh.

The Doctor nods. “Good, good,” he says, in a way that very much suggests he is not listening to her even a little bit.

“I went ahead and scheduled an appointment in a couple days, to see how far along things are,” says Rose. “Maybe about seven weeks, going by my period.”

“Mm-hmm, excellent, excellent.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to start having regular checkups and such.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To make sure everything’s going like it should.”

“Well, naturally,” the Doctor replies, staring at his mobile.

“You know. With the pregnancy.”

“Of course.”

“Yep,” Rose says mildly, throwing up her hands. “Not every day you give birth to a lizard, after all. Did I tell you I volunteered for the lizard-mother-surrogate program in Chiswick?”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, it’s been in the works for a few years in this universe, human-lizard surrogacy. Big market for it over here. Mum’s had six. Pete’s in line next. Just lizards, lizards all over the place. Like Biblical-plague levels,” Rose continues, staring at him. “It’ll be toads next. I guess I should have asked which you prefer. Would you rather have a lizard or a toad in the nursery, Doctor?”

“Yes,” says the Doctor.

Sighing in frustration, Rose waits. She waits and watches the Doctor as he pulls the toast from the pan (too hot, he burns his fingers on the first try but it doesn’t stop him trying again anyway) and pours his tea (and promptly forgets about it) and removes the jam from the fridge (and promptly forgets about that as well) and shoves the unbuttered, un-jammed toast between his teeth before grabbing his coat and calling out an absentmindedly muffled “Meet you at the car!” around a mouthful of food as he darts out the front door.

The flat is, as always, very quiet without him in it.

Rose sighs again, but she only has half a moment to feel deflated before a soft squeal lets her know that the front door is opening again, slowly, this time. She looks up to see the Doctor popping back in, pulling the toast out of his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitantly. “You’re what?”

Rose nods. “Pregnant, yeah.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, probably cos it’s true,” Rose replies, holding up the pregnancy test, its reading displayed on the screen for the whole world to see.

“Ah,” says the Doctor. His stare loses focus, fixed on nothing in particular.

Rose waits, forcing herself to be patient. Not to fidget.

“Well, that’s,” says the Doctor, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s. Hmm.”

Rose frowns. “Are you all right?”

“I’m—yes, of course,” the Doctor says, shaking his head and blinking just a little too fast. “Always am. You?”

“I’m a little worried about you, to be honest.”

“Oh, well, no reason to be, everything’s fine,” says the Doctor as he yanks on his coat, struggling to pull his sleeve over a fist wrapped around crumbling toast. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m perfectly all right. Why wouldn’t I be? Everything’s fine. Everything’s dandy. Fantastic. Molto bene—”

Concerned, Rose rises from the table. “Doctor—”

“Only I’m running a tad late, though, so I’ll just—I’ll hail a taxi, shall I, and let you get to HQ on your own time?” says the Doctor, backing away as he shoves the remainders of his toast directly into a coat pocket. “Sounds good to me, practical resolution, useful all around. I’ll see you at work, then, shall I?”

And with that, he takes off running out the door, before Rose can get in another word.

With a great heavy sigh, Rose tosses the pregnancy test in the bin before plonking back down at the table, shoulders slumping. She can’t say she’s surprised by his reactions; it’s all more or less what she expected, or what she would have expected, had she ever anticipated the possibility that things might fare this way. But still. She’d sort of held out hope, in the ten or so minutes since she’d seen that plus flashing across the test screen, that he would be happy. Rose has never felt that deep urgent desire to have children of her own—goodness knows she likes children, and of course she loves Tony, but becoming a mother has just never been an entry on her list of priorities—but now that the very real likelihood of having a child is staring her in the face, Rose finds she’s warming up to the idea quite quickly. The thought of building a family with the Doctor is nice. Rose is surprised by just how nice that thought feels.

It’s less nice to know that he may not feel the same way.

Shaking her head, Rose chides herself. He had a family once before, she knows, and while she may not be privy to many of the details, she’s sharp enough to know he lost them. She can only imagine the sort of scar that would leave, the sort of bone-deep hurt that would haunt a person after something like that. This is probably quite a shock to him, she reasons. He just needs a little bit of time, and space, and support, and then he’ll come around. He always does. Well, he usually does. Well, the jury’s still out on a few items. But she loves him, and he loves her, and that’s what really matters. Right? And in a few moments, Rose will finish washing up and getting ready for work, and when she shows up at UNIT, things may be a little tense and stiff with the Doctor for a little bit, but he’ll relax back into his usual self before either of them knows it. Neither of them can stay awkward or uncomfortable with the other for too long. No reason for this to be any different. But they’ll get to work in their adjacent departments and the Doctor will loosen up and Rose’s nerves will settle and then things will be fine.

Right?

(Except when Rose arrives at UNIT, the Doctor’s not there. No one’s seen him. No one’s heard from him. There’s no sign of him in UNIT at all, not for the rest of the day; texts go unanswered and calls go straight to voicemail. And when Rose returns home that evening, frustrated and bewildered and hurt, the flat is dark and empty, the Doctor nowhere to be seen.

Well. Fuck.)

Despite the low background hum of panic buzzing nonstop at the back of her brain, Rose does a marvelous job of not-vibrating-out-of-her-skin-with-anxiety during the next several days, in which the Doctor deigns to make precisely zero (0) appearances. In fact, she does such a marvelous job, it doesn’t even occur to her to jump when he bursts in on her obstetrician’s appointment without warning.

“Doctor,” Rose says amidst the sounds of Jackie’s indignant “Oi, what do you think you’re doing, barging in like that?” But the Doctor ignores them both, proceeding immediately to the nurse’s clipboard where she left it, flipping through the notes with an intensity that borders on the manic.

Rose knows she should feel relief at seeing the Doctor here, now; he may look a bit pale and wan beneath the fluorescent lights, his scruff a little longer than usual, perhaps a little less kempt, but he’s safe, he’s not injured, he didn’t get himself into some kind of stupid trouble, somehow. (Didn’t run away, didn’t just leave her here. Not that she’d ever entertained such a worry. Except when she did.) But once the tide of anxiety ebbs, Rose realizes what she feels now is mostly anger.

A lot of anger.

“And where the hell have you been, eh?” Jackie demands; in lieu of a reply, the Doctor reaches into his pocket for his spectacles, slipping them on as he pores over the nurse’s paperwork.

Rose stares stonily at the Doctor as Jackie tuts with impatience. “Hey, mister. I asked you a question—”

“Height’s off,” announces the Doctor, procuring a pen so he can write over the nurse’s notes with his own. “Too short by 2.3 millimeters. Weight’s off, too, missing a quarter-kilogram or so, they really should get their scales fixed. And the age listed doesn’t account for the disparity between time rates in your original versus current universes. Incompetent twenty-first century medicine,” he adds under his breath. “Might as well be living in the Stone Age.”

Rose’s jaw clamps so tightly she’s surprised she doesn’t crack any molars. With a huff, Jackie reaches for the clipboard, but the Doctor backs away out of reach without even looking. “Don’t they even test for Hepatitis B surface antigens in this universe?” he scoffs.

“No, cos we haven’t got any of the Hepatitises in this universe, have we?” snaps Jackie. “And none of this is any of your business anyway, not until you apologize to Rose for up and disappearing on her. How long’ve you been gone, now, without so much as a word? Three days? Four? I mean really, how could you do that to her, putting her through the wringer like that? And right after she tells you she’s pregnant, too!”

“Yes, yes, I’m very sorry,” says the Doctor absently with a dismissive wave of his hand, his gaze still fixed on the clipboard in front of him, “but we’ve got more pressing things to attend to, so let’s just go ahead and get this over with, shall we?”

“Get what over with?” asks Jackie, as Rose’s fists clench the examination table beneath her, the pleather squeaking under her fingernails. “No,” Jackie continues, pointing an accusatory finger at the Doctor. “Until you apologize to Rose—and I mean apologize properly, you daft alien twat—the only getting you’re doing is out. So send in the actual physician,” she snarls, and now her finger is jabbing toward the door, ��and then get out.”

“No can do,” quips the Doctor as he darts away to rummage about in the room’s cabinet-drawers. “Your so-called actual physician’s gone home for the day—seems someone might have hacked his calendar and reassigned his last patient today to one visiting Dr. James C. Noble, a.k.a, me.”

The Doctor ignores Rose’s eyes widening in alarm and Jackie’s splutter of indignation as he pulls out a stethoscope and drapes it about his neck. “And as you know, your actual physician is booked rather full right now,” he continues, withdrawing a blood-pressure cuff and other assorted equipment. “So if you want your checkup done any time in the next three weeks, here’s your one and only opening.”

Hands balled into fists, Jackie draws a deep breath and opens her mouth to hurl forth what will be, undoubtedly, a scathing stream of insults and outrage in an eruption that would put Mount Vesuvius to shame, but she stops when Rose places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Mum,” says Rose, with a calmness she certainly does not feel. “Would you give the Doctor and me a few moments, please?”

Jackie’s mouth clamps shut as she glances between Rose and the Doctor, lips twisting in disapproval. The Doctor either can’t meet their gazes, or he won’t. Just as well; if eyes could truly shoot daggers, Jackie would be gutting the Doctor right about now.

“Mum,” says Rose again, softly, and Jackie relaxes a little, though she’s still eyeing the Doctor with a healthy amount of disgust.

“All right, sweetheart,” says Jackie with a sniff. “But don’t let him off too easy, yeah? You let someone hurt you like that once, they’ll just keep doing it. And you deserve better than that.”

Her eyes flicker meaningfully toward Rose’s belly. “You both do,” Jackie tells her, and sweeps out of the room with a flounce and a huff.

It’s just Rose and the Doctor in the exam room, now. The quiet is loud enough to suffocate. But the Doctor still won’t look at her.

“Well, now that that’s all out of the way, shall we proceed?” says the Doctor, snapping on a pair of medical gloves as he steps briskly over to Rose. “See if we can pick up on the fetal heartbeat, take a few other readings—”

“No,” says Rose.

“—and check on your vitals,” says the Doctor, ignoring her as he plugs the stethoscope into his ears and presses the bell to her sternum, through her shirt. “Seeing as they are, you know, vital—”

“I said no,” Rose tells him, firmly.

“—and naturally, one must always be prepared for all possibilities, like preeclampsia or fibrinogen deficiency or aortic insufficiency, for example,” the Doctor breezes on as if he didn’t hear her, shifting the stethoscope on her chest, “which reminds me, I should order an echocardiogram, just in case. Of course, there’s always the chance it won’t adequately visualize the ascending aorta—”

“Nothing’s wrong with my heart, Doctor.”

“—but even rudimentary tests are better than no test, though an echocardiogram might not be necessary after all, since the auscultation of the stethoscope combined with my superior auditory capabilities means I can probably detect and diagnose any murmurs without visual aid of any sort. However, the added strain of carrying a pregnancy to term could place undue stress on the host’s cardiac system, so one must diligently keep an eye out for any symptoms of myocardial infarction or peripartum cardiomyopathy developing in the patient’s—”

“No,” Rose shouts, smacking the Doctor’s hand away. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

The Doctor’s face is pinched in discomfort and Rose realizes the smack must have been terribly loud for him, amplified greatly by the stethoscope, but she doesn’t much care right this second. Her blood is rushing in her ears and boiling in her veins and her sinuses are so full of pressure from four-days’-worth of unshed tears (because he ran away, she told him she was pregnant and he ran away, he left her, and even if he came back, it still fucking hurts) that Rose feels like her head is going to burst.

“I’m not some bloody patient,” Rose tells the Doctor, her breathing rough and ragged, “and I’m sure as hell not a fucking host. I’m me. I’m Rose. I’m your partner.” She feels her expression harden. “Or at least I thought I was.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply, the stethoscope-bell still grasped in one hand, the ends still plugged in his ears. His face is carefully blank, now. That just makes Rose even angrier.

“You left,” she tells him. “The second things got a little serious, you left me.”

“I was only gone for ninety-three hours, Rose,” he argues softly.

“Only,” Rose scoffs. “That’s four days I haven’t heard from you, haven’t known if you were dead or alive or hurt or kidnapped or ever coming back—”

“Your faith in me is truly inspiring,” says the Doctor drily, removing the stethoscope so he can drop it on the counter. “Would you have thought any of that about the real Doctor?”

“Don’t you dare,” snaps Rose, springing up from the examination table. “We settled all that ages ago. I know who you are,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest, “and you do too, and you are not going to drudge up a petty old row from two years back just so you can use it like a shield against me. I’m angry with you, properly angry, and I’ve got every right to be. You got that?”

The Doctor’s expression doesn’t change, except that he might purse his lips a little in frustration. “Got it,” he says tonelessly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Blinking furiously in an effort to hold back her tears, Rose draws in a deep, steadying breath. “You need to talk to me. You need to tell me what’s going on. I know you don’t want to, but you’ve got to. That’s part of what being a couple is about. That’s one of the rules. One of the biggest.”

A runaway tear rolls down her cheek and Rose angrily scrapes it off with the heel of her palm. “I might not always understand what you’re going through right away, but I’ll always listen. Cos we’re in this together. Right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice clipped.

“Aren’t we?”

A pause. “Yes.”

Another tear escapes and rolls sluggishly down Rose’s cheek, leaving a cold and sticky trail in its wake. Rose doesn’t wipe it away this time, no matter how much she hates crying in front of others (no matter how much she especially hates crying in front of him). “Look at me, please,” she says, her jaw set, and slowly, the Doctor obeys, his eyes meeting hers properly for the first time in days. Only now does Rose notice the dark circles under his raw and red-rimmed eyes; god, he looks tired.

“I know you’ve probably got complicated feelings about all this,” Rose tells him, forcing the words out no matter how much they want to stick in her throat. “And that’s okay. I’m still sorting out how I feel, myself. But you can’t just run away when something’s bothering you, now. Not anymore.”

The Doctor glances away from her.

“Please just talk to me,” Rose says, willing her voice not to tremble. “Just tell me what’s going through your head. Please.”

Eyes sliding shut, the Doctor just exhales, his breath leaving his lungs with a shake. “I don’t…” he starts to say, and stops. He licks his lips nervously. He falls silent. Rose waits for him to try again.

Decades and centuries pass between them.

“I’m not sure how I feel,” the Doctor confesses quietly. “I want to be excited. I want to want this. But I just—I can’t…”

He swallows. “I’m just so afraid. And that fear is drowning out everything else.”

Rose nods, stepping closer to him. “Okay. What are you afraid of?”

The Doctor barks out a harsh laugh. “Is Everything a comprehensive enough answer for you?”

“What’s bothering you, specifically?”

“Really, I should’ve known better, taken better precautions,” the Doctor mutters, more to himself than her, Rose suspects. “I can’t let my guard down, not for anything, not ever. I promised myself I’d never go through any of this ever again. Never again. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Any of what?” Rose asks patiently.

“Having a family,” the Doctor replies, the words almost choked, like he’s wrenched them out of his chest. “Being a father.”

“You’re afraid of losing your family again.”

“Of course I am,” the Doctor says brokenly. His hands push beneath his specs to rub at his eyes. “Can you really blame me?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“What difference would it make?”

“Because you’re acting like this is something you’ve got to face all on your own, but you don’t,” Rose tells him stubbornly. “I don’t just need you right now, Doctor. You need me, too.”

The Doctor opens his mouth like he might protest, but Rose doesn’t give him a chance. “You said you want to be excited,” Rose tells him. “Just a minute ago, you said you want to want this. If you take the fear away—easier said than done, I know, but bear with me—how do you feel, underneath all that? Be honest, please. What do you feel when you think of me being pregnant? When you think of us having a family?”

“It isn’t exactly us, though, is it?” the Doctor says, pushing a hand through his hair. “It’d be your body doing all the work. I haven’t got any right to tell you what to do with your body.”

“True,” says Rose, as the ghost of a smile threatens to quirk the corner of her mouth. “But you’re not telling me. I’m asking you.”

She pokes his chest again, halfheartedly this time. “Don’t get used to it.”

The Doctor flashes a weak half-smile her way. “I don’t know, Rose,” he says, and the smile fades like it was never there. “Honestly, it shouldn’t even be possible. It never really occurred to me that this might happen, because it isn’t supposed to. It can’t. Time Lords haven’t reproduced like this for eons. The human DNA shouldn’t be enough to override that basic programming, shouldn’t have been enough to render me anything but functionally sterile.”

He sighs, raking his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. If things were different—if we knew more about the embryonic genetic makeup, if I’d read up more on human-Time Lord crossbreeding when I had the chance, if the TARDIS were full-grown and we had access to anything more advanced than twenty-first century medical equipment, if I felt like I could trust the physicians here properly, if the infant-mother mortality rate wasn’t what it is in this day and age—though I suppose at least we’re not in America, can you imagine?—then I might...”

Shaking his head, he grunts in frustration. “But then I start thinking about how defenseless you’ll be, especially in the later months, and as soon as word gets out, who knows what sort of attention that might attract, everything from overeager paparazzi to potential kidnappers to opportunistic extraterrestrials looking to make a quick buck harvesting rare hybrid children—and that doesn’t take into account anything that could happen to either of you after you’ve given birth, there’s just so much out there that could hurt you, our life together is just so hectic and so dangerous and so much, but even removing those factors from the equation there’s still plenty that’s ready and waiting to kill you right in your own home, and—there are just so many confounding factors, Rose, so many unknown variables, literally anything could happen, and I might not be able to stop any of it, not anymore. And that’s just for the stuff I’m not actively screwing up all on my own—”

“Fine, so don’t go swanning off for days on end next time something freaks you out,” Rose bites back. “That’s half the battle right there.”

“Rose, you’re not hearing me—”

“Yes, I am,” Rose retorts. “You’re scared. Of course you are. I’m scared, too. Anyone with half a brain cell is going to be at least a little bit scared over something like this. So you acknowledge that you can’t control everything, make plans where you can, and learn to roll with the punches where you can’t. You don’t fucking desert the person you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

“But I just needed a bit of time, Rose, I never meant—”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant for it to feel like that or not,” Rose snaps back. “That’s how it felt, Doctor. It was like you left me, after telling me you never would again. After you promised. And it hurt.”

The Doctor doesn’t reply to that, just watches her, mouth working like he wants to argue, but the words won’t cooperate. Tears start welling up again in Rose’s eyes, fat and blurry and thick; the Doctor seems to crumple a little at the sight.

“What if I lose you again?” he asks, defeated. “What if something happens, and I lose you both?”

“I don’t know,” Rose tells him honestly. “But we’re safer together, aren’t we? And better together, too.”

At that, something in the Doctor seems to give way. “Yes,” he agrees, his voice hoarse, his face as open and vulnerable as Rose has ever seen it. “I’m sorry,” he adds.

When Rose can’t make any words come out, too busy fighting back tears, whatever resistance remains in the Doctor seems to drain away and he reaches out to pull her close, wrapping his arms around her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, tightening his hug when Rose starts to shake, unable to staunch the flow of tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he says again over the sounds of her sobs, muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, over and over, holding her tight while she cries into his shirt. “I won’t leave again. Ever again. I won’t. We’re in this together. I promise,” the Doctor tells her, holding her close. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Rose clings to him even harder as she cries.

They’re both exhausted by the time they climb into bed later that evening (later, but still early, for them), but that doesn’t stop Rose from turning in the Doctor’s arms to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. It’s a claim that leaves no room for question, and even though Rose knows he wants to—We don’t have to, I’ve been an idiot, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you; she’s heard it all before after a row and she’ll likely hear it all again—the Doctor doesn’t argue. Not this time. This time he meets her kisses in kind, urging her mouth open with his and grabbing her by the chin so he can take bruising control of the kiss.

Relief surges through Rose as he kisses her fiercely, clutching her close. Looks like she’s not the only one who’s starved for comfort tonight.

The Doctor breaks away so he can press a searing-hot kiss to Rose’s jaw, her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Kissing a line down to her navel, the Doctor hooks his fingers in the waistband of her pants and pulls them off, discarding them; a familiar ache swells between Rose’s legs at the sight of him between her thighs, and she slickens at the sensation of his tongue darting out to taste her, but as delicious as that sounds (and as good as it feels, fuck), it isn’t what she wants right now, isn’t what she needs. She urges him back upward so she can feel the reassuring weight of him pressing against her, his cock stiffening between them, his heart hammering against hers.

They don’t always have time to take their clothes off before sex—two years on, and sometimes the need is still so urgent, they’re too impatient to remove anything but the barest essentials—but tonight the Doctor pulls off his boxer briefs and Rose pulls off his tee shirt and they work together to untangle her from her sleep-shirt and it’s such a fucking relief when they slide together, skin-to-skin, Rose’s nipples scraping sharply against his chest, that Rose can’t help but hum in satisfaction. She needs to feel him, needs to feel all of him, her tongue plunging into his mouth as she wraps a hand around his cock and strokes him hard. He pants against her lips and leans his weight to one side so he can slide a hand between them, his fingers plunging slickly inside her as she grinds her clit against the heel of his palm. It’s only a few moments before Rose is urging his cock inside, wrapping her thighs around his waist and arching needfully upward. She doesn’t give either of them time to adjust, but immediately rocks against him, clenching and rutting and clutching at his back as he thrusts into her, swearing under his breath. It doesn’t take long for the climax to start building low in Rose’s belly so she reaches down between them, intent on urging the Doctor along, but he grabs her hand and pins it to the mattress, her fingers gripped tight and slick between his as she comes with a shout and he follows shortly after.

If there’s something a little desperate in his touch tonight, neither of them mentions it.

***

After several days and many many hugs and kisses and apologies and promises and two lush bouquets (picked and purchased by the Doctor, one for Rose (for obvious reasons) and one for Jackie (lest she slap him back into the other universe)), Rose is leaving the obstetrician’s office once again, this time having attended a full and proper appointment (also negotiated by the Doctor, as part of his ongoing penance). But this time, when Rose leaves, she’s armed with a series of diagnostics (all of them proclaiming the absolute normalcy of this pregnancy, no matter how the Doctor scrutinizes them) and a couple of recommendations (to up her iron intake, among other things), and her mother is only glaring at the Doctor the usual amount (which is to say, about 25% of the time). With Jackie in the lead, Rose and the Doctor lingering a few steps behind, Rose isn’t half-tempted to make a joke about the Doctor maintaining minimum safe distance from her mum after the events of the other day, but she knows it’s less about that, and more about how aggressively excited Jackie has allowed herself to become, now that the Doctor’s stopped being a giant prat.

(Excited might be an understatement.)

“Oh, sweetheart. This is all so brilliant. I’m so happy for you,” Jackie squeals over her shoulder at Rose, beaming through sparkling tears that threaten to fall and ruin her makeup. “You’re gonna make such a good mum, I just know it! It’s gonna come to you so natural. Well, I mean, there’s books and things to help out with all of that, and they’re good and all, but it’s about instinct, too, and you’ve got that in spades.

“And I absolutely can’t wait to start buying you things. Are you gonna ask about the sex? No, you don’t care about that,” Jackie says dismissively before either Rose or the Doctor has a chance to reply, which is just as well, as this conversation hasn’t actually involved anyone besides Jackie for some time now. “Oh, I do hope the little one likes girly things, though,” she continues. “Lord knows I love your brother, but he’s a bit rough-and-tumble, isn’t he, and I sort of miss all the ruffles and princess things. Don’t get me wrong, he loves a good princess movie just like you did, got all the dolls and stuff, but he’s not much on the dressing-up, and I would just adore the chance to buy some cute little dresses again, and, oh my goodness, Rose, I just can’t believe it, I’m gonna be a grandmum, you’re gonna have a baby—”

Jackie rounds the corner ahead and Rose is surprised to feel a tug on her hand the second Jackie disappears from sight. It’s the Doctor, of course, pulling her back toward him, but when Rose turns to look at him, a question hovering on her lips, he just pulls her gently forward so he can wrap his arms around her, trapping her in a snug embrace.

Her heart pounds in her chest, but not unpleasantly. Emotion swells in her throat as her arms wind back around him, fists clenching in his shirt. His arms tighten around her, almost uncomfortably so. Rose feels rather than hears his breath leaving him, long and slow and measured and just short of reverent. Like a man in prayer. After a moment, he spreads a hand between them, palm over her belly, like it’s just now occurring to him exactly what’s happening, what they’ve started together here, the sheer enormity of it all. He plants a kiss against her head, burying his face in her hair after. Rose tries to remember if she’s ever seen him act quite so tender as this, before.

The moment is over almost as quickly as it begins; soon enough the Doctor is springing away and tugging Rose along by the hand, propelling the two of them toward Jackie, like nothing just happened. But when Rose squeezes his hand (in comfort or solidarity or reassurance; she’s not sure and she’s not sure it matters anyway), he squeezes back, tightly.

“...and oh, do you remember that little garden dress you had once upon a time, the pink gingham with the roses, and the little white patent shoes?” Jackie is saying now, as she waits for the lift in front of them. “You were a vision, Rose. An absolute vision. All the other mums thought so. You were such a pretty little girl. A pretty baby, too. You know how some babies are ugly but no one talks about it? Sort of look like creepy little Gollum types? Well that weren’t you, to be sure. And just look at you now, you’re already glowing and everything, did you know that?” she asks, glancing back at Rose once again with a smile. “Pregnancy’ll do wonders for your skin. Did for me, anyway. Beverly wasn’t so lucky—d’you remember how she puffed up like a walrus, got the eczema all over? Not you, though. You look like one of them Renaissance paintings. Or like an angel, even!”

“Oh my god, Mum,” Rose laughs. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, someone’s got to say the cheesy things. Lord knows he won’t,” says Jackie, fixing the Doctor with a meaningful stare.

“I’m just waiting for the right moment,” the Doctor replies pleasantly. “As, for instance, the half-second you stop talking long enough to draw breath.”

Jackie flashes a dirty look his way and Rose laughs.

***

Everything is proceeding normally for a standard human pregnancy (almost painfully normally, really, even as the Doctor checks and double-checks and triple-checks everything from Rose’s sodium levels to the babyproof latches he’s already installed on all of the cabinet doors to the ambient temperature in each and every room Rose enters because You’re basically a greenhouse, Rose, a greenhouse growing a person instead of plants, and everyone knows greenhouses have to be kept at the optimum temperature in order to flourish), right up to the first day Rose notices her belly, by way of trying to fasten her trousers over it. They do not, of course, fasten, because see above, re: belly.

“Welp,” she says, slouching into the nursery with a sigh. It really is a lovely nursery, if a bit yellow, but the Doctor has insisted that yellow is the optimum color for budding baby TARDISes and larval humans, and this is a hill Rose is perfectly content to not-die-on. “I’m officially getting fat,” Rose announces.

The Doctor tuts in disapproval but doesn’t look up from his task, carefully pruning wayward growths on the TARDIS coral in front of him. “Three additional kilograms hardly qualifies as getting fat,” he says mildly, “although even if it did, and even if you were, it wouldn’t be cause for concern unless there was a non-pregnancy-related underlying health condition we needed to address.”

“Just the condition of my fat,” Rose replies cheerfully.

The Doctor spares his focus just long enough to roll his eyes, the motion even more comical and exaggerated than usual thanks to his work-goggles. “You’re incubating a whole entire person inside of your person, Rose. That’s bound to put on some extra weight on you, even before you start taking into account things like fluid retention and nutrient stores.”

“Fluid retention and nutrient stores. Way to pique a girl’s appetite,” teases Rose.

“Now that you mention it, I am a bit peckish, myself,” the Doctor admits as he works. “What are you thinking? Takeaway? Pizza? Your mum’s fish pie is in the fridge but I’m not certain that qualifies as food so much as kindling.”

Rose chuckles a little. “You really don’t mind?” she asks, scuffing a bare foot restlessly over the floor.

“Not at all. Getting rid of that pie would be doing the world a favor.”

“No,” Rose laughs, the sound more genuine this time. “Not that.”

“What, then?”

“You know. That I’m gonna get all…”

The Doctor piques an eyebrow in suspicion, and rather than risk another lecture by uttering the word aloud, Rose finishes her sentence in pantomime, outlining a large belly in front of her. He stares at her blankly in response, eyes blinking owlishly behind their protective goggles.

Rose sighs. “I’m gonna get big, Doctor,” she says. “Like a big belly. Maybe really big.”

He nods. “Probably. Your point?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, Rose focuses on her foot instead, tracing invisible patterns over the floor. “Just, you know,” she says softly. “Other blokes haven’t cared for it all that much, when I gain weight.”

“That’s because other blokes are idiots,” the Doctor announces, all smiles and bouncy cheer. “Fortunately you’re not stuck in this with any of them,” he continues, pulling off his goggles. “You’re stuck in this with me. And I happen to have very correct opinions about that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose laughs, something loosening in her shoulders, the release of tension she wasn’t even aware was there.

“Oh, yes,” he says, sauntering over to Rose with his hands shoved lazily in his pockets. “All excellent opinions, each and every one of them. Many of them even backed up by science!”

Rose grins at him. “And when my belly gets so big that I can’t tie my own shoes anymore, or shave my legs?”

“Then we’ll just have to get you shoes that don’t need tying, won’t we? Or I’ll tie them for you. And a hairy leg or two never hurt anyone, but if it would make you feel better, I can always shave your legs.”

“Really?”

He shrugs again. “Really. How hard can it be?”

Shaking her head, her grin broadening until she can’t take it anymore, Rose pushes up on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. The Doctor lets out a happy little hum against her mouth and his hands leave his pockets to grasp her by the hips, his thumbs tracing a path to the front of her waistband, where the zipper-teeth won’t quite meet and the button only barely won’t latch.

“Yeah,” says Rose, glancing downward. “I’m gonna need new trousers soon.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I quite like them like this,” replies the Doctor, pulling the zipper down until the top of her pants peeks out. “It’s like a little preview.”

“Cad,” Rose teases.

“You’re not wrong,” the Doctor says thoughtfully, before looking back up at her, his eyes full of mischief. “I am, for instance, thinking about how much better your trousers would look on the floor.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rose asks, a shy smile blossoming across her face. His grin, by contrast, is long and slow and wicked, like a bolt of liquid warmth sent straight between Rose’s thighs.

“Oh, yes,” says the Doctor, and he kisses her.

It’s really a very convincing argument.

***

Roughly twenty weeks in, and really, Rose can put up with most of this nonsense—granted, the dizziness isn’t fun, the headaches aren’t enjoyable either, the ever-swelling belly makes dressing for the day officially A Challenge™, the heartburn is bordering on intolerable, the morning sickness is more of an any-part-of-the-day sickness, and the leg cramps are no walk in the park either (although a walk in the park does at least help a little)—but what she really can’t stand are these intermittent bursts of bloody awful hormones.

“What’s wrong?” the Doctor asks in alarm the moment she steps through the front door, sniffling and snuffling and trying to hide her tears and her gross blotchy face from the Doctor and doing it very, very badly. “Rose? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles as she shucks her boots, fully aware of how pathetic she sounds, and hating herself for it.

“Are you sure?” asks the Doctor, his face pinched in concern.

“Yes,” she grumbles, but the Doctor doesn’t seem convinced.

“Are you, though?” he presses, following her as she slumps her way into the kitchen, lowering herself into a dining-room chair. “You’ve been crying. That indicates distress. You’re not hurt, are you? You’re not injured? You’re not sick?”

“I’m fine,” Rose mutters again.

“Are you certain? How’s your temperature? When did you last eat? What did you last eat? You didn’t ingest any deli meat or sushi or come into contact with any cat litter or anything else potentially carrying toxoplasmosis? Are you experiencing any unusual aches or pains? Fluctuations in heartrate? Changes in vaginal discharge—?”

“I said I’m fine!” Rose snaps at him.

The Doctor’s eyes widen, but he stops talking, stops fretting. “Right, you did,” he says quietly, scratching the back of his neck. He steps back and away, his face carefully blank. “Sorry.”

Guilt crashes into Rose like a freight train and just like that, the tears start welling up in her eyes again. “No, I’m sorry,” she says, lower lip trembling, voice watery. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry. I just…” she tries to say, and cuts herself off with a sniffle. “I just…”

The Doctor watches her from a safe distance. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just—god, it’s just stupid stuff, but it’s like my brain is going absolutely mad over it,” Rose blurts out. “Just stuff like, they were working on the lift, so I had to use the stairs, and I spilled my tea on the way back down, spilled it all over my shirt—” and she gestures at the front of her blouse, which is indeed no longer pale pink, but now light brown with the ghosts of teastains past— “and that was right before we had that big meeting with Ripley’s team and the French delegates, and I didn’t have anything else to change into, so I had to go in to this big important meeting looking like a total nightmare, and the meeting went on for so fucking long, it was hours, I had to get up to wee like five times.”

She absentmindedly rubs her growing belly-bump, trying to calm herself. “I really liked this shirt,” she continues, sniffling. “One of the only maternity shirts that doesn’t just look like a horrid flowery muumuu. S’like, you get pregnant, and you’re not allowed to try to look pretty any more. You’ve served your purpose, you’re not a woman anymore, now you’re just a whale on a one-way-train to Frumpy Town. Not like I care what other people think but I still want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see, you know? And god, the taxi smelled so badly of smoke I thought I was going to vomit. That sort of thing never used to bother me, but so many smells do, these days. And I’m a puffy horrid mess, and my hair’s doing funny things, and everything aches, and I know nothing’s wrong, not really, but sometimes it’s like there’s this high-pitched squeal in my head screaming that everything’s bad and awful and scary all the time but I can’t take my anxiety meds anymore cos of the pregnancy—and—and—”

She can feel her face crumpling with effort, straining not to burst into the world’s ugliest wettest snottiest tears right now. “—and I just remembered I ate the last of the raspberry lollies last night,” she says plaintively, her mouth twisting in abject misery. “So we’re out.”

“No, we’re not.”

Rose hiccups, thumbing tears off her cheeks. “What?” she asks thickly.

“We’re not out,” says the Doctor, gesturing to the fridge. “I picked some up on my way home.”

Blinking rapidly, Rose bites her lower lip, hardly daring to hope. “Really?”

“Yeah. I thought you might like a lolly or two after dinner, so I made a stop.” He walks over to the refrigerator, pulls open the freezer door, and plucks out a lolly, extending it her way. “D’you want one now?”

Now Rose’s eyes are filling with tears for a completely different reason, her vision growing suddenly blurry and wet as she fights back the pressure with a sob. Through the haze, she can just barely make out the worry spreading across the Doctor’s face.

“Rose?” he asks, panicked, like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong.

“I love you,” bursts out of Rose’s mouth. She launches herself out of the chair and toward the Doctor, snatching the lolly out of his hand and ripping off its plastic wrapping so she can take a huge bite. And oh—

Oh.

Oh god, it’s good.

The scent of sweet raspberry hits her nostrils, first, with an ice-cold bite that predicts the joys to come. She bites into the treat and her eyes shutter at the delicious tartness of the juices, the cold of the ice, the satisfying crunch-slush of it all. Sweet and tart and cold all sing a delightful harmony in her mouth, washing away the dregs of the unhappy world outside, soothing her aches and pains, painting her mind with calm. Another bite floods her veins with sugary pleasure and cool relief in equal turns, and Rose chokes back tears of pure, unfettered joy.

“I love you so much,” she sobs.

“Just to be clear,” says the Doctor, a small smile spreading wryly over his face. “Are you talking to the lolly right now, or me?”

“Yes,” says Rose, before taking another bite.

***

She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen his eyes grow so comically wide before.

“No,” he chokes out amidst the sirens wailing all around them, waving smoke out of his eyes as he heaves himself up from the debris-strewn floor. “Rose, you shouldn’t have—”

“What?” Rose shoots back, hoisting the giant gun high on her hip. “Come to save your skinny arse?”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself for me!” the Doctor snaps. “Especially right now!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have surrendered yourself to hostile forces, so I guess neither of us got what we wanted, huh?”

The Doctor glares at her. “I did what I had to! You, on the other hand—”

“Look, can we argue about all this later?” Rose interrupts, rolling her eyes. She gestures to the door behind her (rather, the “door” she just forcefully improvised thanks to a blast from her giant gun). “My back’s starting to hurt,” she complains.

“Which is precisely why you should have stayed put!” the Doctor retorts, anxiously running his hands through his hair. “I told you this would happen, Rose. I told you people would come after you and the baby—!”

“So what, you decide to offer yourself up instead? Without even talking to me about it?”

“Yes!” he shouts, glaring as he stands over her. “I will do whatever I have to if it keeps you safe, and I don’t require your approval and I sure as hell don’t require your permission! Do you underst—”

An explosion rocks the ship, knocking the Doctor flat against the wall behind him. Her belly big and heavy as it is, Rose’s low center of gravity keeps her pretty well-grounded; she doesn’t budge.

“Right,” she says, as nonchalantly as she can while the ship burns and shakes all around them, “d’you want to keep arguing, or would you maybe like to escape the burning spaceship with your very, very pregnant girlfriend?”

He’s still glaring at her, but there’s a smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth now. “Fine,” he says grudgingly, pushing off the wall. “But only because you’re very compelling at eight months pregnant, with a giant weapon.”

Rose laughs, swiveling the gun out of the way so she can plant a hard kiss against the Doctor’s lips. He tastes like soot and dirt and sweat and god, she’s so glad he’s all right. That he’s going to be safe, soon. With her.

“I love you too,” she says, and she grabs his hand, and they run.

***

It isn’t like they show it in the movies—or it isn’t quite like that, rather. It takes so much longer, and it’s so much messier, and it’s loud and then quiet and frantic and then calm and there’s sweat and blood and pain but there’s elation, too, even before the nurses place the baby in her arms. It’s all compounded when Rose looks down, seeing her child for the first time, all red in the cheeks, ten little coiled fingers and ten little pruny toes and eyes screwed shut and mouth crying out against the harsh light and sound of this strange new world. Rose holds the wailing baby close and her heart swells so much she’s almost surprised her ribcage isn’t cracked from the force of it.

Tutting through her happy tears, Jackie rubs the baby’s back, murmuring words of reassurance, much like she has been throughout the last several hours. Not for the first time, Rose is immensely grateful for her mother’s attention and support. Jackie was surprisingly calm throughout the entire ordeal. She’s surprisingly soft, now, in a way Rose isn’t sure she’s ever seen her before. Being a grandmother suits her, Rose thinks.

Slowly, the baby quiets and relaxes, heavy and solid against Rose’s chest. She smiles. It’s almost too much to bear, all the love that fills her at the sight of this child. She wonders if the Doctor will feel the same way.

(She is not upset that he’s late. He’s been doing so much better about all this sort of thing these last few months; he wouldn’t miss this without a good reason. It’s simply a matter of when he arrives, she tells herself. When. Not if.)

Rose has half-started dozing off when she finally hears his voice.

“Where is she?” his voice echoes loudly in the hall outside. “Is she all right? Did I miss it? Did—”

The door swings open and there stands the Doctor, mouth open and hair mussed and clothes totally disheveled. Rose watches as he frantically takes it all in—the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed, Rose in the hospital bed with a tiny new baby slumbering heavily in her arms.

“You’re here,” Rose says, smiling, her voice dreamy and soft.

The Doctor’s mouth closes and his throat constricts, Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. His eyes flicker up to Rose’s, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, she can see it written across his face as plain as day—but he doesn’t seem able to push the words out. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, nervous and unsure.

Next to the bed, Jackie pats Rose’s hand. “I’ll leave you two to it, shall I?” she says, kissing Rose’s forehead before she rises. On her way out the door, she stops long enough to give the Doctor a quick hug, pecking him on the cheek for good measure afterward. “Congratulations, dad,” she says, her voice fond.

The Doctor can’t seem to respond, can’t even seem to move, his feet glued to their spot on the floor for several long seconds after Jackie leaves. His gaze lingers on the baby, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing, somehow, or maybe he just can’t believe it.

“Come on in,” Rose teases. “Stay a while.”

Shaking himself, the Doctor starts. “Rose, I’m so sorry,” he rushes. “I had to deal with these people, these bloody water pirates, and they had all these warships and I met this robot worm and he knew who I was somehow and I got dropped in the ocean and I lost my mobile and I had to steal a boat and I might’ve shot a pirate in the foot and—”

“Doctor?” says Rose, patiently.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about it later?”

“Of course.” He grimaces. “Rose, I really am sorry.”

“I know.” She smiles. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not, though. I should have been here.”

Her heart breaks for him a little. “You should have been out saving the world,” Rose tells him gently.

He looks very much like he doesn’t believe her.

“You didn’t miss much, anyway,” Rose adds. “Just the gross stuff. I actually don’t mind you missing that bit, don’t much fancy you seeing me bleeding everywhere or pooing the bed.”

“Are you all right?” the Doctor asks, pushing a hand anxiously through his hair, which only serves to muss it even further.

Rose nods. “They gave me drugs for the pain. I think it’s the loveliest I’ve ever felt.”

The Doctor laughs humorlessly. “But overall, you’re all right?”

“Yeah, Doctor. I’m fine. I’m gonna be sore for a while. But I’m okay. Really.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. And—”

The Doctor swallows hard, his gaze flickering between Rose and the baby. “And, the child...?”

“Also fine. Would probably like to be called something besides the child, though.”

Relaxing a little, the Doctor laughs again and the sound has a little more warmth this time. “I seem to recall that I generated a good deal of names, only for each of them to be shot down,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s got to be something people can pronounce. Human people,” Rose adds before the Doctor can interject. “From Earth. In this century.”

“Cassiopeia’s a perfectly pronounceable name!”

“It’s a mouthful,” Rose laughs.

“And it lends itself very well to diminutives. Cassie, Cass, Cas,” the Doctor continues, counting off a finger for each. “Peia. Cassio.”

“Whatever. Just shut up and get over here, yeah?”

The Doctor smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and he bridges the distance between them, dipping down so he can frame Rose’s face in his hands and pull her in for a kiss. It’s only a little desperate, his hold on her, the slight tremor in his hands; Rose answers by pouring as much love and reassurance into the kiss as she possibly can.

She’s surprised to realize she’s shaking just a little, herself.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks the kiss, one hand cradling the back of her head, his forehead pressed to hers. “I really am sorry,” he says softly.

Nodding, Rose thinks that this would be a good time to reassure him again, let him know he’s forgiven, that what really matters is he’s here now, and he keeps being here. That she knows he needs her, and that’s all right. She needs him, too.

“Hold me?” she says instead, her voice small.

Wordlessly, the Doctor shifts back, lowering the siderail of the bed. Rose expects him to simply lean over the side for a little half-cuddle and is pleasantly surprised when he toes off his shoes and clambers into the bed with her instead, propping himself up on one arm so he can snuggle up against her side, pressing fully against her. The weight of him next to her is comforting, soothing any residual uncertainty or anxiety that might have been lurking in the corners of her mind, and Rose nestles into him gratefully, relishing his solid warmth. She watches him as he reaches out, almost hesitantly, to touch the baby sleeping on her chest, safe and snug between them both.

He gently strokes the baby’s head, his face alight with a quiet wonder, not unlike the expression he wears when stepping onto the surface of a new planet for the first time, Rose thinks. But his gaze is so much tenderer than she ever saw it, any of those times. Soft and open and a little afraid but still so, so full of wonder and awe.

God, she loves him so much.

“You almost forget how small they are,” the Doctor says softly, reaching down to one of the baby’s hands, inspecting five little tight-coiled fingers. “Can you believe all the potential packed inside that tiny little body?”

“It’s pretty incredible,” Rose agrees.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was blinking tears out of his eyes as he turns to bury his face in her hair. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice thick.

Happy contentedness fills Rose’s head like a candyfloss-cloud. “You’re not so bad, yourself,” she says sleepily, and the Doctor chuckles, wiping his eyes.

He loops his arm around her and the baby both, holding them close. He’s unusually quiet as he watches the baby sleep, and Rose wonders if his thoughts are anything to match. Maybe he’s cataloguing everything about their child, about the downy-soft head and warm red cheeks and little button nose, filing every detail away in that massive memory of his, his mind already racing with revelations about the past, how they’ll inform plans and ideas for the future. Or maybe he’s just allowing himself to be present, for once, in the here and the now, with Rose and the baby, no ghosts or worries or unspoken nightmares haunting him for just a handful of moments. Maybe he’s allowing himself these rare few minutes of quiet calm, before the world starts spinning again.

“How long are you gonna stay with us?” Rose murmurs sleepily, and the Doctor’s hold on her tightens.

“Forever,” he says.

******

Find me on AO3 ♥

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jenniferdiazisatransgirl · 4 years

Text

My Journey

Hey everyone, As you will likely know by now I am a trans woman and I live in the UK where lately trans people have been under significant scrutiny by the press, government and groups claiming to be acting in the name of feminism.

One of the arguments used when not directly attacking trans people, is that the medical institutions that help us in the UK fast track us through transition, even the NHS and I know so many trans people in this country that I can say without a shadow of a doubt this is not true. This includes a significant number who have been under the care of Tavistock and Portman, the under 18s service which was recently banned from giving its patients hormone blockers without the approval of the courts.

But anyway, I’m gonna share my story and how lengthy the process actually is and I will warn ahead of time this deals with suicidal ideation, gatekeeping, mental health, etc. So proceed with caution. This will also be a long post.

September/October 2008

I can’t remember which month but it was just before my 16th birthday, my Dad encouraged me to go to my GP regarding my gender dysphoria. I lived with my transphobic Mum at the time and had to go behind her back which was terrifying to say the least. I saw a doctor called Dr Moulsher and explained everything I was going through and his response was, “I don’t think the NHS funds any of this.” He was very ignorant on trans issues but it actually fortunately worked out in my favour, I got lucky, I know, but he just wanted me off of his hands.

I explained in Sheffield there was a GIC (gender identity clinic) operated by the NHS known as Porterbrook and he was just like, “Oh right. Well I’m more than happy to refer you but they likely won’t see you till you are 18.”

He asked me some questions, wrote up a detailed report and put in the referral to “get the ball rolling” as he worded it.

I was terrified at the time of the referral letter going to my home address though and he was like, “Well it needs to be sent somewhere.” So he agreed to send it to my grandparents address.

Later That Year

About a month or so later a letter arrived at my grandparents saying I had been accepted onto Porterbrook’s waiting list, explaining it is substantially long, that they wouldn’t be able to see me till I’m 18, etc. Your typical boiler plate stuff. Also as I understand it they don’t typical accept referrals for under 18s so I got lucky there. I remember getting so excited when I got my letter though, that I took it into school to show all of my friends.

Back then it was a requirement that I have a mental health assessment while on the waiting list though. So I returned to Dr Moulsher who I had become rather comfortable with and had made him my regular GP. He made a referral to the local mental health clinic and that was that.

January/February 2009

A letter came in the post asking me to ring to book at appointment at the local mental health clinic. I couldn’t ring from home cos my Mum would overhear and she was spying on me a lot at the time due to really being against the fact I’m trans. My school - which was a Catholic school shockingly enough - had already decided my home environment had become so toxic that I needed removing from my Mum’s care. They would be a process that wouldn’t be completed till June 2010 but yeah, it had got that bad. Anyway, I ended up asking the school receptionist if I could ring on their phone to book the appointment. That was booked for February.

The appointment was a weird one to say the least. The doctor asked me a quite a lot of questions but these are the ones that stuck out.

So with this first one, I am going to preface with that as far as I am aware, I am white and of white ancestry for all the generations I know of. However I do have remarkably curly hair that left to its own devices grows into an afro (or at least what looks like an afro). So the first set of questions that stood out; Dr: What’s your mother’s ethnicity? Me: White British.

Dr: Sorry, did you say Afro-Caribbean? Me: No. White British. Dr: And your father’s ethnicity? Me: White British. Dr: Sorry, was that Afro-Caribbean?

Me: Nope. White British.

Not really sure how you can get Afro-Caribbean and White British verbally mixed up but he seemed very adamant at least one of my parents must be Afro-Caribbean.

He then later goes;

Dr: Do you have a partner?

Me: Yes.

Dr: Are they male or female?

Me: I have a girlfriend.

Dr: Then you can’t be trans. You can’t be trans if you like girls.

Me: What about lesbians?

Dr: That’s beside the point.

Shockingly, in the end he agreed with my GP’s assessment that I am trans but Jesus, as you can probably guess from above that mental health assessment was a minefield of weird.

24th October 2010

In June 2010, I was finally removed from my Mum’s care at the age of 17 and placed in supported housing and on the date about I got a phone call from Porterbrook GIC on my 18th birthday no less, inviting me to my first appointment in November.

22nd June 2012

I legally changed my name and title by deed poll to Miss Lily Nichole Robinson.

22nd October 2012

I’d now been at Porterbrook for almost 2 years, had lots of appointments, most of which repeated the same mundane questions and it had started to feel like nothing was ever going to change. I had become increasingly depressed and suicidal and I had decided that if nothing had changed by my 20th birthday I was going to take my own life. I did not want to enter my 20s still living my life as a man. I didn’t want to lose another year of my life.

I remember this date exactly, not because I marked it in my calendar but because Taylor Swift’s album “Red” came out that morning. Despite everything, I was dancing along to 22 that morning while ironing some clothes, before I headed off to Porterbrook. I didn’t really feel like it mattered, I was going to kill myself 2 days later but I figured what is the harm in going through the motions one last time.

I sat there, trying not to let on how miserable I was, didn’t see the point in letting them in on how I was feeling. Nothing would change.

I remember being asked some really gross questions that day though. I got asked if I masturbated and I just declined answering. When challenged I was just like, “I maybe trans and I may hate that equipment but I’m a human being. I still have sexual urges. What do you think the answer is.”

The appointment though, shockingly ended with them telling me they were going to put me on hormones. I was gonna get my estrogen. It was enough to give me a reason to keep on living.

But just bare in mind how close I got to taking my own life there. 2 days away from my 20th birthday. Also it took almost 2 years for them to say they’d be placing me on hormones.

January/February 2013

In January, I had my bloods taken to get a baseline and I was told about options for storing gametes. I did decide to consider this but in the end it ended up being too costly for me at the time. So in February, on a day it was snowing I got the train and was adamant the snow was not stopping me getting to Porterbrook and I had an appointment with the head clinician, Dr Kevin Wylie.

He oddly listed all the testosterone blocker options to me with side effects and risks and all the estradiol options to me with side effects and risks. In the end I chose Cyproterone Acetate for my blocker and Estradiol Valerate pills for my hormones.

50mg per day of Cyproterone Acetate and 2mg per day of Estradiol Valerate. I was ecstatic and took them both the second I got on the bus 😊

May 2013

Slightly unrelated to the medical process but just 3 months in and my mental health had improved drastically. Since I was removed from my Mum’s care I had become a bit of a shut in. I didn’t have any friends, my anxiety was through the roof, I was insanely depressed and I just avoided everything and everyone, only leaving my house for work. Hormones changed that though, I just felt so much happier and I also remember that Spring just being like really vividly aware of the colours of all the flowers and plant life for like the first time in my life. I actually wanted to go out and social and make friends and there was a local LGBT youth group for 18-25 year olds that I decided to join and I started to have and social life again. And by September 2013 I started university and soon came getting drunk with the LGBT Liberation Group at the various socials. I was happy and finally starting to feel like myself.

2013 - 2016

Porterbrook became very gatekeepy in the final stage of my transition. They didn’t like how I dressed. Apparently girls wear dresses while I preferred jeans, t-shirts and hoodies. I didn’t like wearing make-up. I wasn’t the 1950s image of a girl that Porterbrook seemed to expect. I actually have a trans guy friend who around the same time had been told he couldn’t start on testosterone unless he cut his hair short, cos apparently men don’t have long hair.

It pissed me off to no end because I transitioned to be me, not to be a performance of how the world thinks a woman should be. I refused to give ground on how I dressed, etc but in the end I ended up telling a few white lies to get past the final level of gatekeeping. And I can’t remember most of this dates as they happened while uni was going on in the background. But eventually Porterbrook gave me the go ahead for surgery, about 6 months later I had my second opinion and then I was referred for surgery.

January 2016

I had my pre-surgery assessment at Nuffield Health Brighton and I was told if I wanted I could have my surgery as early as March 2016. Due to university though, this proved a bit too soon and the date was pushed to June 2016.

22nd June 2016

The day before the EU Referendum I had my gender reassignment surgery. I don’t actually remember feeling all that ecstatic after the surgery. There was lot of pain and I was on a lot of drugs. But a friend, Rosie, who I hadn’t seen since high school lived in the area and she was at my bedside when I woke up. I was in hospital a week and had 3 months of recovery ahead of me.

Post Surgery 2016

Having surgery had been great, things finally felt right. My entire body felt right for once but I had tunnel visioned my life towards surgery and put a lot of stuff on the back burner and had some major post-surgery depression so I sort counselling at my university to get through these issues and once that was sorted I felt a lot more stable in myself and like nothing was in my way.

October 2016

I put in my application for my Gender Recognition Certificate only for it to get rejected because they did not like the assessment from Porterbrook GIC and Dr Wylie who wrote the assessments was off on leave. Me and a nurse had to sit down and look through my medical record to find a medical report they might accept and we finally found one. However they wouldn’t say what was wrong with the original which made Porterbrook kinda stumped on what was wrong.

February 2017

I received my Gender Recognition Certificate and my new Birth Certificate.

March 2017

I was discharged from Porterbrook GIC.

For those who are under the impression gender reassignment is a fast process it isn’t, it took me 8 years and 6 months start to finish, from initially seeing my GP at 15 to finally being discharged from Porterbrook GIC at the age of 24. It is a long ass process with a shit tone of gatekeeping and honestly going through the process as it stands isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. When I was discharged from Porterbrook GIC in 2017 my first thought was, “I’m free. I’m finally in control of my own life.” As up until that point, I felt I had no autonomy and that my life and happiness was in the hands of doctors. It was miserable.

But there it is.

#trans woman #transgender #my life #uk #trigger warning #long post #miscellaneous

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littledreamybeth · 5 years

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Our little secret

A/N: Happy new year, everyone! Let's make the first post of 2020 a fluffy one! I hope you like it! I haven't properly proof read everything, so I apologize for mistakes beforehand. Comments are highly, I stress highly appreciated.

Picture does not belong to me. Credits to the owner!

“Are you ready?” It was not impossible to overlook how nervous the young couple was. Trembling fingers interlocked, they looked at each other’s faces, searching for confirmation, or even doubt. Harry couldn’t recall being this nervous. An uneasy feeling had settled in his gut since he was sitting in front of the camera. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t really do what they were about to do, however, he also knew keeping this secret forever wouldn’t help either, because at the end somebody was going to find out anyway- as usual. He had promised Y/N he would do this, and they had talked everything out. They had taken drastic precautions, doubling their security guards and placing cameras almost everywhere in their home, so he wouldn’t be worried anymore.

“Only if you are, love,” His raspy, deep voice filled the room.

The young woman, his partner, soulmate, wife- his love, nodded.

“Alright, here we go…” She gave her sister-in-law, Gemma, who was standing behind the camera, permission to start the recording. The brunette woman held her thumbs up, smiling assuringly and encouragingly at the couple. Harry squeezed Y/N’s hand in comfort before he let go of her. He knew she was going to articulate with gestures. Besides, he needed to calm down himself. He was sitting there, his body in a tensed form. He had to relax. Breathing deeply in and out, the British man and his wife stared into the camera.

Here goes nothing...

“Hello everyone!” It was Y/N who spoke first. She was going to speak more since it was mostly about her. “Welcome back to my channel! I know it has been a very long while since I’ve posted anything, and I’m aware that many of you guys were concerned for me. I just vanished out of nowhere after all.” Not that anything bad had happened, no- she had a reason for all of that. But one thing after another, right?

“I highly appreciate your worry, guys. I know I owe you an explanation, and here I am, finally giving you one.” Harry’s wife had started a YouTube channel after they got together, uploading videos so that his fans could get to know her better. She was the person who rather spoke through actions than words. The amount of love she received was mind-blowing. She had never expected the support. Her videos always reached millions of views. Some of them were even with Harry and her doing couple stuff or challenges. If it wasn’t for his love, Harry would never agree to things like this. He’s private as we all know.

“First things first, I’ve seen many people speculating that Harry and I allegedly divorced, but as you can see, Mr. Styles is sitting right next to me and I’m still wearing my ring.” She pointed at the diamond ring on her finger. “I’d like to happily confirm that your assumptions about us were wrong.” She leaned over to give a kiss on his cheek, sensing how tense he was. She whispered “It’s gonna be fine” into his ear, running her hands through his brown locks before she focused on what was in front of her.

“I want to get to the point quickly,” She stressed. “The reason why I disappeared, why I never have accompanied Harry to any special event for the past year, why I wasn’t active on social media, is because something has happened that changed our lives forever. Today, we want to share it with you.”

It was Harry’s cue to stand up, walking behind the camera to have Gemma handing him over something, or even better, someone. When he came back and sat down, he had a bundle of joy in his arms, wrapped up in a pink blanket. The tiny human being underneath, who was sleeping before her father came to get her, let out a little whimper of protest for interrupting her sleep. Harry weighed her back and forth, shushing her softly. “It’s okay, angel.”

Harry’s eyes were full of love for this little miracle. Everybody could see it. He basically had her name written in them. Whenever, their baby girl was mentioned, his eyes lit up and a large smile covered his lips. What could he say? He was a proud daddy.

Y/N blended out the camera for a second and reached out to play with her daughters tiny fingers, then directed her attention back to it. Flustered, she said, “World, meet Olivia Rose Styles. Our daughter…”

She could imagine the amount of confusion and shock their announcement would create. People for sure wouldn’t stop talking about this for weeks. (Online) Magazines and newspapers would report about them. And Twitter? Twitter was going to freak out. She chuckled at the thought.

“It’s true, people,” Harry confirmed, his attention tightly fixed on baby Styles. “We’ve become mummy and daddy.”

“Yeah, we’re parents.” Y/N nodded her head. “That’s why I disappeared. Because I was pregnant. We wanted to keep it a secret.”

It was pretty easy to hide her baby bump in the first couple of months due to the fact that she wore and always loved to wear oversized clothing. Her entire wardrobe consisted mostly of oversized shirts and pullovers, and a few of Harry’s belongings. But the bigger her belly became, the harder it was to cover up the evidence. So, she decided to step out of the spotlight and enjoy her pregnancy to the fullest without any factors that stressed her out. Y/N belonged to the category of people who were easily stressed over the tiniest things; reading negative articles or tweets about her alone was enough to drive her insane, and because she knew that everything stressing her out would also affect the baby, Harry and her had agreed that she lived somewhere else with a better environment; a place where people wouldn’t chase after her and follow every step she did. Not that they would ever admit it, but Harry had bought an island for his Y/N as a wedding gift before they got married (he even ordered to build a house there), and that’s where she had retreated to for the rest of her pregnancy. She really loved nature. Lying at the beach whenever she pleased felt so refreshing. Knowing that no one was going to snap pictures of her made her feel at ease. Being out of civilization, far away from negative influence, was very therapeutic for her. She attempted to use less social media, or media in general, only requiring it if she wanted to watch a certain event that Harry attended. Of course, she wasn’t all alone. Her husband would never let her. Instead, Harry had bodyguards around her that kept watching her and made sure she was safe when he wasn’t around. Anne and Gemma also kept her company. Harry, on the other side, couldn’t spend much time with her as he hoped, because of tons of work. He at least tried to leave the weekends unoccupied so that he could be with his wife. When it came to the control checks and appointments, Y/N was flown back to the city, with strict measures taken in order to keep her hidden. Or sometimes, her doctor would pay her a visit.

“This was my first pregnancy, and I wanted it to be a memorable experience. I wanted to be at peace, and vanishing seemed the only solution for me.”

Gemma’s voice behind the camera rang. “Explain why you’ve never been seen at a hospital.”

“Oh yes! I almost forgot about that. I gave birth at home!”

Harry, diverting his attention to the camera lens, added, “And it was truly an amazing experience.”

The day, Y/N delivered her baby, both of their mums, Gemma and a midwife were present. Their fathers were waiting outside the room, because Y/N found it embarrassing to give birth in front of her father, or in front of Des. It was painful and exhausting, robbing all strength in Y/N’s body. Harry couldn’t bear to see his poor wife in pain; he felt completely powerless over the situation, only holding his love, encouraging her and eventually, crying with her. He even blamed himself for putting her through so much ache. But, the moment they heard the shriek they were desperately waiting for, the young man completely broke down. When he held her for the first time, his heart felt so full and complete. She looked like a copy of him, a baby version of himself. And her eyes… a shade of bluish- green.

“For the last three weeks, Harry and I have argued back and forth whether we make a wise decision,” She explained. “We discussed the advantages and disadvantages, and to be completely honest with you; even though the cons overweighed, we still decided to share out little secret with you before some strangers have the chance to release unpermitted information.”

Now that Y/N returned back from the island to their home, the chances of being discovered with a stroller was high. Besides, they didn’t plan on keeping Olivia in between four walls; they planned nice family trips for the future, so addressing their secret was the best.

Harry added, “We are in constant worry about her. You cannot really expect what people can do with an infant, especially if it’s my child. I hope you can understand that we don’t want anyone, except for family and friends, around her.” His expression became hard, his eyes transforming into an intense shade of green and his voice deeper than ever. “I may be kind, and don’t address certain things, but even I know how to destroy people’s lives, so be warned. If you come any closer to my daughter, I’ll end you.”

His statement startled Y/N. She had never experienced him like this before. Overprotective. She looked at Gemma, who shared the same emotion as her. Y/N pulled herself together and continued talking. There was another point she aimed to address.

“Please, don’t expect me to pull out the Kylie Jenner card and release a pregnancy journey video after all of this, because it’s not gonna happen,” Y/N informed, shrugging her shoulders. “Sorry, not sorry guys. The past couple of months have been the most joyous and adventurous period of my life, something very special and intimate, and I don’t want to share it with the world expect for the people involved- our family and friends. That’s why I ask for acceptance and understanding.”

Indeed, Y/N had every moment recorded. Sometimes, she would even send a video to Harry while he was at work, mocking him for how much he was missing out. One day, she had sent him footage in which baby Styles had kicked for the very first time, and it had Harry almost jumping out of his socks. It had been in the middle of a meeting with his band when he had received the message. He had gasped loudly, covering his mouth in shock which had attracted everyone’s attention and having them stare at him confusedly. Harry, on the contrary, had tears pooling his eyes. And being the little show-off he is, he went around and proudly showed everybody what his unborn daughter was capable of doing now- not forgetting the occasional ‘That’s daddy’s girl!’ leaving from his pink lips.

“We don’t want anyone to expect too much from us. We are against the idea of sharing pictures online until she has reached a certain age, and we insist that this should be okay for everyone.”

The baby in Harry’s arms slowly became restless, a cry escaping her throat. Everyone took this as a signal to end the video. “Thank you guys for watching this short announcement video. Take care of yourselves, and please don’t overreact too much, okay? Bye!” Everyone winked at the camera, and the recording was done.

After the video was cut and properly edited, Y/N posted it on her channel. Not a even a minute had passed before it had scored thousands of views. Scrolling through the comment section, Y/N chuckled at the fans’ reactions.

Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr… every social platform was a mess. She received lots of comments on her accounts. Famous artists and influencers reached out to her, congratulating them for the new addition to the family.

It was just as Y/N expected; the world was going crazy…

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atlafan · 4 years

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My Everything - Part Sixteen

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: fluff, smut, and angst

Words: 4.6K

a/n: it’s back! thank you all for your patience, I’ve that written for a bit, but it felt good to take a break and work on some other things. I hope you enjoy this part!

Masterpost

“You’re having another?!” Nannie shrieks through the phone.

“Yeah! We’re going to find out the sex soon, we’ve just been waiting until my first trimester is done.”

“How have you been feeling this time around?”

“I was really nauseous in the beginning, but now I’m fine not too bad.”

“I’m so excited for you.”

“We’re going to tell Jack soon.”

“He’ll be a great big brother, honey.”

“Thanks, Nannie.”

You speak with her a few minutes longer before hanging up. You wrap up things in your office before heading to the day care to pick up Jack.

“Mumma!” He exclaims.

“Hi, baby. You ready?”

“Mhm, look!” He holds up a drawing for you.

“Oh, that’s very nice. Should we put it on the fridge when we get home so Daddy can see it?”

“Yes!”

You get Jack in his car seat and get him home. You sit in the living room to grade some papers while he watches TV. Harry said he’d come home with pizza tonight.

“Babe!” You hear him call. He rests the pizza on the kitchen counter before coming into the living room. “Hi.” He smiles.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy.” He kisses Jack’s head, and then kisses yours before sitting down. “How are you today?”

“Oh, I feel great, actually.”

“A couple more weeks, right?” He rubs your lower belly. Jack watches Harry and gets up to do the same thing to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Jack…do you wanna know why Daddy rubs Mumma’s belly so much?” You ask him and pick him up to put him in your lap.

“Why?” You look at Harry and he nods.

“It’s because I’m growing a baby in here.”

“A baby?”

“Mhm, Daddy and I wanted to give you a little brother or sister. Would you like that?”

“Yes!”

“You’d have someone to play with, just like at day care.” Harry explains. “But it takes time for the baby to grow, so Mumma’s belly is gonna keep getting bigger.”

“When will baby come?”

“In the spring.” You say.

“We’re going to find out if it’s a boy or girl soon, Jack.” Harry says. “Our family’s growin’.”

“Growin’.” He repeats. You and Harry giggle.

“But that also means you might need to help us. Mumma’s gonna be really busy when baby comes.” Harry explains.

“Busy?”

“Mhm, she may not have as much time for kisses and cuddles.”

“But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” You interject. “The baby will just need extra kisses and cuddles. You’ll be able to help with that, honey.”

“I will?”

“Mhm, because you give the best kisses and cuddles.” You tickle his tummy and it makes him giggle. “Come on, Daddy brought pizza home for dinner. Let’s eat.”

You kept your doctor’s appointments on Fridays so you wouldn’t have to worry about Jack needing to come with you. It was also an easy day for Harry to come meet you. Just like last time, you were gaining weight in your belly first before anywhere else, and in your boobs.

“Okay, are you two ready to know what you’re having?” Dr. Johnson asks you. You both nod yes. “Looks like this time around…it’s going to be a girl!”

Both you and Harry burst into happy tears. You had no idea what you’d name a girl. You were so sure with Jack. You’d really have to think about this one.

“A little girl, I can’t believe it.” Harry wipes his eyes. “I can’t wait to tell my mum.” He opens the car door for you and gets into the driver’s seat.

“I know! What are you thinking for names?”

“Did you wanna keep a J theme? What about, like, Jessica Rose?”

“You sure came up with that fast.” You laugh. “I like that, though. Jessica Rose. Jack and Jessica. It’s cute.”

“That’s what I thought. We don’t need to decide right now though. We can think it over.”

Harry pulls up to the day care at your university and tells you he’ll go inside to get Jack. It would be a nice surprise since Harry never picked him up. He got a few looks as he walked in. It’s not like he was the only parent with tattoos, so he just chalked it up to the fact that he’s literally been to the day care twice.

“Daddy?!” Jack comes running over to Harry, and he scoops him up.

“Are yeh surprised?”

“Yeah!” Jack nuzzles into Harry.

“Oh, hi Mr. Styles.” One of the day care workers says to him. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Hi there, uh, I’m sorry I don’t remember your name.”

“Haley.” She smiles.

“Right, sorry.”

“Where’s your wife?”

“In the car. We had to meet up for something earlier, so I thought it would be nice if I came in to get him since it’s so rare. How was he today?”

“Oh, just fine. He’s always so good.”

“Got everything, Jack?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, mummy and Buster are in the car, we better not leave ‘em out there. Bye, Haley, thanks.”

Some of the other day care workers come over to her.

“So that’s where he gets the curls from.”

“God, Dr. Y/L/N is so lucky!” Haley groans. “To be honest I always thought she was divorced since she doesn’t have the same last name as Jack.”

“Oh, lots of people don’t change their names nowadays, come on.”

“She never talks about him either, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Not all parents have the time to stay and chat. Come on, we need to clean up.”

Jack babbled on about day care and the things he drew, and the leaves he got to play in outside. When you got him inside you sat him down in the living room.

“Jack, today Daddy and I went to the doctor to find out if you’re having a baby brother or sister. Would you like to know?”

“Yes!”

“You’re gonna have a baby sister, buddy.” Harry beams.

“Baby sister.” Jack pats your tummy and it nearly makes you weep.

“That’s right, my darling boy.” You coo. “Got a little girl in here.”

“How?”

“Babies come from mummy’s tummies.” Harry explains.

“But how does baby get in Mumma’s tummy?” Harry’s face goes pale, and he looks at you.

“Isn’t he a little young to be askin’ that?”

“He’s just curious.” You shrug. “Um, Jack, when two people, uh, love each other…well I shouldn’t say that because sometimes people don’t love each other…”

“Y/N, he doesn’t need to know the complexities of that.” Harry chuckles. “We can be cute about it, he’s only two.” Harry pulls Jack into his lap. “Jack, when two people love each other a lot, like Mummy and I do, they’re able to turn that love into a baby. In fact, Mummy grew you in her tummy, just like how she’s doin’ with baby sister.”

“You did?!” He says to you.

“Mhm, hold on.” You take out your phone and find a picture of when you were pregnant with Jack. “See, that’s you in my tummy.”

“Wow!” He gazes at the photo. You swipe to one right after he was born.

“And this was you as a baby. You were so tiny.” You pout at him.

Jack loses interest and slides off of Harry’s lap. He get his box of blocks and spreads them out to play with.

“He’s not even going to remember what you said, and what you said was so nice.” You pout at Harry.

“It’s okay, I’m sure that won’t be the only time he asks us.” He laughs.

You kept waking up around four in the morning, almost in anticipation for Harry’s 5AM alarm to go off. Although, he always stayed in bed until 5:45. He’d shower, take Buster out, make up Jack’s lunch box, and out the door he’d go.

You were reaching that point in your pregnancy where your only real craving was Harry. It was difficult, though, to find the time. You were busy with Jack the second you’d get him home. You needed to get him dinner, a bath, and then to bed. Then after bed you would use the quiet to grade or make sure your lessons were good to go. You had a home office to get your work done in, and Harry would do his best to leave you be.

As you looked over at him sleeping peacefully, you felt guilty for wanting to wake him up. He was just as tired as you. It was nearing the end of October, and Jack loved playing in the leaves, so when Harry would get home from work, Jack would beg him to go outside and jump around in the piles. Harry had a tough time saying no, especially since he missed Jack all day long.

When Harry’s alarm goes off, you watch him grab his phone to hit snooze, and then he mindlessly rolls over to reach for you and pull you close like his did most mornings.

“Harry.” You whisper.

“Mm.” He grunts and furrows his brows. “Don’t need to be up yet.”

“I’ve been awake for a while.”

“Why?” He says, eyes still closed.

“Because…I…want you.” You say in a half whine half pout. His eyes snap open to meet yours. “I’m restless.”

“Would you let me sleep a little longer? You can take a shower with me in a bit.”

“Oh.” Your eyes burn with tears. You turn your face so he doesn’t see. You felt slightly rejected, and maybe you were taking it a little more personally than you normally would.

“I’m just really tired.”

“Okay.”

He closes his eyes again and settles. He hears you sniffle and he sighs. He looks back up at you and sees the tears trickle down your cheeks.

“Y/N.” Harry sits up slightly. “Alright, I’m awake now.”

“And now you’re upset with me.”

“I’m not, come here.”

“No.”

“I thought you wanted to-“

“You don’t even really want me right now and it would just feel like a force. I’m sorry for waking you.” You sit up and cross your arms.

“I do want you, I just wanna be able to give you what you need and I can’t do that when I’m not fully awake. I’m awake now, so-“

“Just forget it.” You rip the blanket away and get out of bed.

“Where are you going?!”

“I’m gonna go put breakfast together and make your coffee. Go back to sleep if you want.” You huff. You throw your robe on and leave the bedroom.

Harry sighs heavily and looks at the clock; 5:15. There was still time. He gets up and goes down the stairs to the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee hitting his nostrils. You were starting the electric kettle to make some oatmeal but he stops you.

“Don’t be like this.” He says, cupping your cheeks. “It kills me.”

“I can’t help it, I’m sorry.” You sniffle again. “I feel disgusting all the time with all the changes my body is making again, so when you don’t jump at the chance to frisk me…I get a little self-conscious.”

You bury your head in his chest and he wraps his arms around you. He kisses the top of your head, and pulls you back to look at you.

“You know I think you get more beautiful every day.” He kisses your forehead. “Let me take you back upstairs. I was just groggy before, I’m awake now. Let me love on yeh, hm?”

“You really want to? You’re not just saying that?”

“I really want to. I can’t remember the last time we actually fucked. It’s a shame.”

He leads you back upstairs and gets all of your clothes off. He strips himself of his pajama bottoms as well and joins you on the bed. He has you lay down and he kisses you all over, which makes you giggle. Things stop being funny when his fingers run along your slit. His middle finger slips inside, making your head roll back and your toes curl. His thumb works your clit and a breathless moan leaves your lips.

“This what you’ve been needin’, angel?”

“Yes.” You whine.

“Poor thing.” He pouts and then smirks at you. “Must be so difficult wanting to fuck your husband all the time, hm?”

“Harry, now really isn’t the time to tease me, okay?”

“Really? I think it is. Still got plenty of time before I need to hop in the shower, thought I’d have a little fun.”

He slips another finger in and curls the both of them up. He kisses on your chest, and sucks on the skin right above your breast. Your eyes widen. Harry didn’t really leave marks on you anymore. You both were getting older, after all. You gasp as his teeth sink in further and he groans as he feels you becoming more and more wet. He lets go and grins as he watches your skin turn purple. He uses his other thumb to rub over the mark.

“Why’d I ever stop doin’ that? Purple really is one of your colors, love.”

“Harry.” You groan as his thumb rubs harsh circles on your clit.

“Distracted are we?”

His fingers pump in and out of you faster, your nails grasp at the sheets and you nearly scream at the orgasm you have. He uses his free hand to cover your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want him wakin’ up, right?” You nod your head slowly.

“Okay then.” He removes his hand and kisses you.

Your hands run through his hair as he positions himself over you, lining his hard cock up with your center. He swallows your moans as he pushes inside. You wrap your legs around Harry’s waist and pull him as close as you can, heels digging into the back of his thighs. He uses one of his hands to knead your breast. You grab it to slide up to your throat.

“Really? That won’t stress you out?” He grunts as he thrusts in and out of you.

“No.”

He gets a decent grip on you where he knows you like it, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You practically claw at his back which you know he likes. He craved the scratch marks. He lets go of your throat, before you can complain he’s grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. You both were looking directly at each other.

“Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“Oh my god, fuck!” Your back arches as you come to another release.

He fucks you through it, coming to his own release. He nearly collapses on top of you, but goes to your side instead. It takes you both a minute or two to catch your breaths.

“Might take you up on that shower, you got me all sweaty.” You giggle.

“Good.” He kisses you and gets up. “Who needs coffee when a good shag with your wife is enough to get you goin’ for the day?”

He helps you off the bed and into the shower.

“Love you so much.” He coos as he washes your back.

“Love you too.”

Jack decided he wanted to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle for Halloween. It was the perfect family dress up. You looked extremely cute as a turtle, especially with your bump growing. Niall and Sarah were having their annual party. You and Harry walk Jack up and down your street to take him trick or treating before heading to the party.

Harry inspects all of the candy when you get home. He allows Jack one piece. Your doorbell rings to let the babysitter in.

“Hi Becca.” You smile at her. “Come on in.”

“Thanks! Love the outfit Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh, thanks. It was all Jack’s idea. Harry! Becca’s here!”

“Alright, alright.” He comes into the kitchen. “Jack’s just fallen asleep. Feel free to watch TV, eat whatever yeh like in fridge, all that.”

“Thanks, Mr. Styles. Have a good time at your party.” She smiles, and out the door you two go.

“She’s a sweet girl, I’m glad we found her.” You say.

“Me too. Thank god for Sarah and her connections.”

Niall nearly pisses himself when he sees the two of you.

“This takes the cake, you two always have the best costumes.”

Harry has a couple drinks, but refrains from getting too crazy since you couldn’t drink. You were having fun catching up with your friends. You told them you were having a girl. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you see Becca’s name.

“Becca?!” You go to a more private part of the house.

“Hi, Mrs. Styles, um, I think Jack is sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I heard something on the baby monitor and went up to check on him and he threw up in bed, and-“

“We’ll be right there!” You hang up and look around. “Harry!”

“What’s up, gorgeous?”

“Jack’s throwing up! We need to get home!”

You rush out of the party without saying goodbye and Harry follows you. You jog as fast as you can, bypassing teenagers out still trying to get candy. Harry was right behind you. You burst through the door and find Becca cradling Jack to her.

“Mumma!” He cries.

“Becca, I am so sorry.” You take Jack from her. “Was it just the one time?”

“Yeah, I stripped his bed and threw everything in the wash. I put new pj’s on him too.”

“Thank you so much.” Harry says to her. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pays her. “Here.”

“This is way more than-“

“For your troubles.” He smiles.

“Feel better, Jack.” Becca leaves and you look at Harry distressed.

“He’s burning up. I don’t understand he was perfectly fine earlier.”

“Tummy hurts, Mumma.”

“I know, baby.” You kiss his forehead. “Harry, can you open up a ginger ale, I have the caffeine free kind in the fridge.”

“Yeah.”

He opens it and puts a straw in. He holds it up for Jack.

“Slow sips, honey.” You look at Harry. “I’m gonna run him a bath, I think he’s scared from getting sick. He should sleep with us tonight too.”

Before Harry can say anything you take Jack upstairs. He follows you up to the bathroom and stops you from starting the bath.

“What are you doing?”

“He doesn’t need a bath, look at him he’s falling back asleep. Maybe the candy we let him have didn’t agree with his stomach.”

“But his forehead.”

Harry grabs a thermometer from the cabinet and puts it in his ear.

“See, no temp. He’s probably just sweaty.”

“I want him to sleep with us.”

“Okay.”

Harry scoops Jack up and gets him tucked into your bed while you remake his. You get your costume off and look at Harry.

“Aren’t you going to change?”

“I, uh, was havin’ a pretty good time at the party…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You want to leave?”

“Well…he’s fine, right?”

“Right.”

“And you’re probably tired anyways, so you’ll stay here with him, and-“

“And you’ll go have fun.”

“Y/N.” He sighs. “We haven’t had a night out in forever, Niall’s party is still goin’ on, I’d like to go back for a bit. Why does this need to be a big thing?”

“It’s not. Goodnight.” You turn the light off and leave him standing in the dark.

He knew he should probably stay, but he was sort of buzzed and wanted to go fuck around with his friends. So he walked back to Niall’s. Everyone asked what happened and he explained that Jack just had a stomach ache, and you were handling it. He had the fun he was looking for, and headed back to the house a couple of hours later. When he got up to the bedroom he saw Buster sleeping in his spot on the bed.

“Don’t you dare move him.” You whisper.

“He’s in my spot.”

“Not your spot tonight.”

“Where would you like me to sleep then?”

“Anywhere but this bed, Harry Styles.” You huff and roll over.

He groans, but doesn’t want to wake Jack up, so he goes down the hall and passes out in the guest room. The other one was slowly being turned in your little girl’s nursery. The next morning he gets up and hears you giggling with Jack.

“You scared me, wasn’t very nice.” He hears you say to Jack. He leans against the door frame to watch you.

“Sorry, Mumma.”

“I don’t think we’ll be having candy before bed again.”

“Okay.” Jack snuggles up to you and rubs your belly like how Harry does all the time. “Morning baby sister.”

“Good morning big brother.” You say and stroke his head. You look up and see Harry standing and frown at him. “Look, Jack, it’s Daddy.”

“Daddy!” Jack bounces off the bed and runs over to Harry. “Pancakes? Please!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll make pancakes. Want pancakes, Mummy?”

You simply stand up and go into the bathroom. Harry sighs and whistles for Buster. He lets him out in the backyard, and gets Jack washed up for the morning. He sets Jack in his booster seat while he whips up the pancakes. He cuts them up for him and sits down to watch him eat.

You come down fresh as a daisy. Your hair was done and you had make up on.

“What are you all dolled up for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You scoff.

“I get it, you’re upset because I went back to the party, but-“

“I’m upset because you didn’t even seem to care that our son could have had the flu or something!” You take a deep breath. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” You blink at him. “When will you be back?”

“Funny, you didn’t say when you’d be back from the party. I didn’t fall asleep until you strolled in after midnight.”

“Y/N, I need to know where you are, come on.”

“I’m going to have brunch with the girls. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You don’t really seem to care about your pregnant wife, so please don’t pretend like you do.”

You give Jack a kiss on the top of his head, and out the door you go.

“I think today’s gonna be a chore day, Jack. Uh…Mummy likes when we help out.”

“Okay.” The boy shrugs and finishes up his pancakes.

Your brunch with Sarah and Rachel was much needed. They were on your side, but they also helped you see Harry’s side of things. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to go be with his friends, but you were pissed at the way he went about it. It was good for you to let off some steam. The three of you go to the mall and they help you pick out some new maternity outfits.

When you get home the house is quiet. You go out back and see Jack playing on the swing set, Buster sitting in the shade, and Harry mowing the lawn. He had to have done this on purpose, he knew it was your weakness. He had his yard sneakers and jeans on, that was it. Oh, and his red bandana to hold his hair back. You look at Jack who also had a bandana to hold his hair back.

“Mumma!” Jack exclaims and runs towards you.

“Hi, precious, are you having fun with Daddy?”

“Mhm.” You pick him up and adjust him to your hip.

Harry stops the mower and comes over to you. He guzzles down the water he left outside for himself.

“A bit cold to be shirtless, don’t you think?”

“We raked the leaves first, I’m sweatin’ my ass off with all this yard work.” He huffs.

“Ohh, Jack you helped Daddy with the leaves?”

“Mhm, I’m a big boy.” You burst out laughing and kiss his cheek. You set him down and he runs back over to the swing set.

“A big boy, huh?”

“It was the only way I could get him to help.” He rolls his eyes. “He did look cute with his little rake, I have to say.”

“Looks cute with the bandana too.”

“He whined until I put it on him. Said he wanted to look just like me.”

“Hopefully he won’t feel the same about the tattoos.” You smirk.

“I feel really bad about last night. I shouldn’t have gone back out.”

“Perhaps I also overacted.”

“You didn’t, I was being an asshole.”

“I was just more upset that something could have been wrong with him and you didn’t care.”

“I did care, but I was trying to stay calm. I could see you freaking out, I was trying to keep the situation handled. He was fine.”

“I know.”

“Did you have fun with the girls?” He wraps his arms around you.

“Yes.”

He leans into kiss you, but gets interrupted.

“Don’t be gross, Daddy.” Jack tugs on Harry’s pant leg.

“I think it’s time for your nap.” Harry picks Jack up and he fusses with him, but ultimately settles.

You’re sitting on the couch with Buster when Harry comes back down.

“I need to finish the lawn.”

“Okay.”

“When I come back in, though, can we make up?”

“I’d like that.” You blush slightly as you smile at him.

He smirks and goes back out to finish up the lawn. You look around and see he did a bit of tidying up. You were grateful. When he comes inside he uses the t-shirt in his back pocket to wipe his face.

“I know yeh showered already, and you look so pretty, but-“

“How about a bath?”

Harry perks up and practically sprints up the stairs. He gets it going and you put your hair up to not get it wet. Once it’s time to get in, you sit in front of him, and he wraps his arms around you. He gives you kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. He peppers kisses to your cheek and it makes you giggle. You both sort of lost track of time while you were in there. Harry was just about to start rubbing your clit when you heard the pitter patter of feet. Both of your eyes grow wide when you see the mop of curls standing in front of you. You both used to bring Jack into the bath with you all the time, but he was starting to get a little big for that now.

“Tubby?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, Jack, Mummy and Daddy needed a tubby.” Harry says. “You know, you should really stay in your room and wait for us.”

“Had to wee, Daddy.”

“Did you make it to the potty?” You ask him.

“Yes.” He beams.

“Good. Jack, why don’t you color in your room until we’re done, okay?” You tell him.

“Okay!” You hear him run down the hall to his room.

“Alright.” You sigh and look back at Harry. “We can continue this later.”

“He can color on his own for a bit.”

“I’m nervous about him swallowing a crayon or something.”

Harry hums in agreement and helps you up. You both get cozy in some sweats. You both color with Jack for a bit before getting him his after nap snack. Harry whips up a strifry for dinner while you do some grading. You both put your baby boy to bed. Harry reads him a story and does all of the funny voices Jack likes. Even with the tension this morning, it was a nice day as a family.

Harry brings you to the bedroom to take advantage of the time now that Jack was asleep.

“See, this is what we should be doin’ instead of watchin’ TV.”

You giggle as he kisses on you.

“You’re right. I’ve been needy for you for hours.”

“Really?” He smirks.

“Mhm.” You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Well, let’s just take care of that, shall we?”

#my everything #take it slow sequel #harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #dad!harry #smut #fluff #angst #reblogs and feedback are helpful #pls tag if you reglog

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fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Not For Him

Request: Yes / No Hi please can I have a sweetpea x jones reader where I'm jughead & bettys little sister and I have an eating disorder and they all start picking up on it (jughead, betty, sweetpea, fangs, fp, alice, toni, cheryl,veronica and archie) and my excuses of not eating & one day my mum (alice) asks me to eat breakfast with them all & I get upset about it and start to cry and I tell them its be cause of my boyfriend & how hes horrible to me and then sweetpea confesses his love for me & we get together Anon

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Sweet Pea x Fem!Jones!Reader

Word count: 1301

Warnings: ANOREXIA (Will not be tagging anyone because of the possible triggering content)

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your NickName

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

My family was a little weird. It started with my Dad, FP Jones and my Mom, Gladys Jones, my older brother, Jughead Jones, my little sister Jellybean Jones, and me. Then my Mother and sister left us and it was just me, my Dad, and my brother. But then they came back and we tried being a family again, it didn’t work out. Now my dad was married to Alice Cooper. So my sister was now Betty Cooper, my brother’s girlfriend, like I said weird family. But everyone was happy and no one in town really seemed to care. We all lived together and everything was pretty great actually, well all except my boyfriend. When we started dating he was so sweet to me, but then he started criticizing me and comparing me to other girls. He was always telling me how he wishes I was skinner like them. It got to me and now I have anorexia. It wasn’t that hard to hide from my family because we never really ate together anyway. They always assumed I ate before they got home and I didn’t need to deal with it. My friends were a different story, I was always making up excuses for not eating and they haven’t caught on yet.

I woke up in the morning and got ready for school. My stomach ached from not eating, but I pushed through the pain. I walked downstairs to see everyone getting ready to eat breakfast and my heart started beating faster.

“Y/N, come sit. We were just about to eat.” Alice said with a smile.

“I’m not really very hungry…” I lied.

“Come on honey, you need to eat breakfast.” My dad said.

“Yeah, don’t you know it’s the most important meal of the day?” Jughead said with a laugh and tears started blurring my vision. I can’t give into the hunger that’s screaming at me.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Betty asked, concerned.

“I-I’m fine. I’m just not hungry!” I insisted.

“What’s up with you?” Jellybean asked confused.

“I just said! I’m not hungry!” I said a little louder than needed. I felt tears fall down my face and I turned to run back up to my room, but someone grabbed my arm and stopped me. The person pulled me into them and I looked up to see my Dad looked down at me with worry in his eyes.

“What’s wrong honey?” He asked and I just shook my head. I was crying hard now and I couldn’t speak. It felt like everything was crashing down on me and I didn’t know what to do. He took me over to the couch and Betty came to sit on my other side. Everyone was in the living room now, all staring at me with concern and confusion.

“Just relax Y/N/N.” Jughead said as Betty rubbed my back. My Dad grabbed my hand and gently squeezed. I took a few deep breaths and managed to get myself under control.

“Tell us what’s wrong.” Alice said and I tried blinking away my tears.

“I-I just don’t want to eat…” I said.

“We got that, why?” Jellybean asked.

“JB!” My dad scolded her for her slight attitude.

“Sorry.” She said and I looked down at my hands.

“Leo is always comparing me to other girls…” I whispered.

“What?” Betty asked shocked.

“He’s always saying how he wishes I was skinner like them…” I said.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Jughead growled.

“You’re breaking up with that boy right now.” Alice said and took my phone. She sent him a text and broke up with him for me.

“But he’s right! I’m not like them.” I cried and my Dad pulled me close to him.

“Princess, you’re perfect. But if you want to lose weight you can’t do this to yourself, it’s dangerous. And you should only lose weight if you want to, not because someone else says you should.” He said and kissed my head.

“When was the last time you actually ate a real meal?” JB asked.

“I-I don’t know… Maybe a few months ago…” I answered.

“Get your ass to that table right now.” My Dad said, pulling me up with him. He sat me at the table and started piling my plate with food.

“Dad, you can’t expect her to eat all that right away…” Jughead said taking some off.

“He’s right, we need to ease her into eating normally again.” Betty said sitting down next to me. I looked at the food and my stomach felt like it hurt more.

“You’re not going to school today, I will be making you a doctors appointment.” Alice said and I sighed.

“Eat up.” Dad said.

As promised, Alice took me to the doctor. They measured my height and weight, checked my vital signs, some blood tests, they brought in a mental health specialist to talk to me for a bit, and finally did an x-ray just to be safe. Luckily they didn’t think I was bad enough to require hospitalization, but I did have to go to therapy until they thought I was better. It took most of the day and when we got home Jughead, Betty and JellyBean, were home with Sweet Pea. They all looked at me with such pity and I hated it. I just ran up to my room and shut my door.

After an hour someone knocked on my door. I ignored them, but they wouldn’t stop.

“Go away!” I called. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.

“Y/N, please open the door.” Sweet Pea’s voice rang from the other side and I sighed. I got up and opened the door. He gently pushed his way inside and shut the door.

“I heard what happened, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked and tears sprang to my eyes.

“Because I didn’t want anyone to know! I stopped loving Leo a long time ago, but I just couldn’t leave.” I said with a few tears falling down my cheeks. Sweet Pea pulled me into a hug and he gently stroked my hair.

“You deserve someone so much better than that asshole. Jughead and Fangs had to keep me from kicking his ass all day.” He said and I looked up at him confused.

“Why would you care so much?” I asked.

“He hurt you, of course I’m gonna care!” He said, confused.

“But I knew why Jughead would want to kick his ass, but why you?” I asked.

“I always hated him, because he was with you and I wasn’t.” He answered and my eyes widened.

“W-what?” I asked.

“Y/N, I’ve always been so hopelessly in love with you, I just never said anything because you seemed so happy with that dickhead. Now I wish I did, then you wouldn’t have to go through all this shit.” He said and I just stared at him. My best friend was in love with me? But he’s a player! He always said he would never fall in love and that’s why I gave up hope that he would ever love me back.

“I love you too…” I whispered and a smile grew on his face. He leaned down and captured my lips in a sweet loving kiss, something I never got from Leo. This kiss actually had love in it. With Leo there was never love, I was just too naive to see it.

“I’ll help you through all of this, because you’ve always been perfect, Y/N.” He said resting his forehead on mine. It was that moment that I knew I’d be able to get through anything that life threw at me. That I would be able to overcome this dark time in my life and it would be replaced by light.

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blindedbythedarkness · 3 years

Text

Josh,

Sometimes it's really fucking difficult to not believe that the universe is personally biased against me. And I know that's kind of rich coming from the one of us that didn't get driven to suicide. But I just, I know you of all people would understand. I wish I had you to really talk to right now.

I'm gonna ramble because I just need someone to listen. But where to fucking start? Life right now is just spinning plates. On one day this week I found out a critical hospital referral I was relying on had never been made; I was rejected by yet another landlord for a house next year that I'd really been betting on; my supervisor met with and bullied me for a solid two hours and my one social event of the week got cancelled. So, that's about when it all started to get too much.

The doctor I've been seeing has been incompetent from the start and made so much work for me in the 6 months I've been in her care. Despite diagnosing my Potentially Life Threatening connective tissue disease, she never even named it in our appointments, leaving me to discover the true horrors of my body through playing detective with my blood results. Long story short, to be confident that I can go on a treatment for it without bleeding out, I need to see a geneticist. But despite agreeing that I should see one, she's refusing to refer me to one directly. Instead, she's referring me to a pain rehab clinic at a separate hospital and saying they can internally refer me to genetics. The wait on the pain rehab clinic? At least two years. Plus, of course none of this information was forthcoming and required weeks of emailing back and forth. So now I'm angry, anxious and stressed about my health. I want to make a formal complaint but I don't know when I'll find the time.

That wasn't even the worst thing, though. The worst thing was uni reminding me just one last time that it truly doesn't give a shit about its students and why I hate it to its very core. The final piece of work I have left to hand in is a research project that I've been working on all year. However, my supervisor is an utter cunt, and I don't say that lightly. He's incredibly narcissistic and rude for a start. For a presentation I had to do, he forced me to use his own slides without ever looking at mine. He once ended an online meeting because I misspoke when explaining a figure, telling me to call him back when I knew what I was on about because he "never forgets what he sees and doesn't want his brain soiled with incorrect information." Given he never remembers what we've spoken about from one meeting to the next, I call bullshit. Oh and this week? He asked me to explain a figure to him and when he said he didn't understand I asked him if he was looking at my screen share. He said no. I just despair!

To make matters worse, he's never fucking happy with me. He's made me start my work from scratch 3 times now and had a different problem each time. We're rapidly approaching the deadline now, so to get all the work done for the 3rd time I've been working 9am-5pm 6 days a week. Not that he cares. The results don't fit his hypothesis, so I must simply be incompetent. He even once had the audacity to suggest that I "didn't want to do the work" while looking through a 70 page document of my results, because I couldn't explain the findings of a figure I'd made a month ago off the top of my head.

In this weeks meeting, he again gave me an extortionate list of new tasks to do, while berating me at every turn. With a month left submit my thesis and my write up not started, I tried to explain to him that I wouldn't have time to complete the list. He just shrugged and said, "Well I think you should do it." And yes, this man is aware that I have been struggling physically and mentally recently.

I didn't know what else to do to make him listen, so I contacted the course supervisor (who I'd already briefly made aware of my issues with him). She told me to "quit" and "just get on with writing my thesis"... until four hours later after she had spoken to my supervisor and completely changed her mind. She video called me to tell me to do the work and I just broke down. I don't make a habit of ugly sobbing in front of people I've only ever met twice over Microsoft Teams, but this was a particularly bad day.

"Trying to do this work is going to destroy my physical and mental health."

"I can't do this anymore."

"He never listens to me."

"I've been working 6 days a week and it's killing me."

She didn't care. She told me that since my supervisor is an experienced professional, he must know how much he's asking of me and since he insists it's quick and easy stuff, it must be. This man has never done this analysis himself. He doesn't even know how; half the stuff one of his lab workers taught me and the rest I taught myself.

"Chill out" and "calm down" she told me, "do the work and if you have any problems ask John (the lab worker)"

By the time I pressed the leave button, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I was just choking and sobbing and had snot pouring down my face. I was just so tired. So stressed. So... ignored. I didn't know where I would find the hours in the day, but I started by cancelling the trip to see my parents this weekend. To them I am not a student, and a student with health problems at that. I am simply a machine to use for free research.

I just wanted the stress to give me a break. I just wanted a break. I was genuinely afraid that my heart was going to stop from the stress alone. I didn't know where else to turn. The counseling service put me on a waiting list. My tutor told me to "just keep trying my best". My mentor told me to talk to my course supervisor. My course supervisor told me to work. A was busy revising for an exam the next day and I didn't want to bother him. So, I turned to my unhealthy coping mechanisms instead.

I didn't mean to do it as badly as I did. I just wanted to scratch my skin enough to feel it burn and give me something else to feel instead of the huge mass in my chest. But the scissors were sharper than I thought and when I looked down there were four long cuts that had gone through the skin and fat. I knew immediately I'd fucked up. There was no way those edges were coming together on their own. Honestly, I was just mad I'd given myself something else to do. So, I covered them with gauze and tape and kept on working. Because I needed to work. I needed to get it done. I would deal with going to the hospital later but I couldn't lose these working hours.

Once the blood was dripping from the gauze I finally, begrudgingly, went to the hospital. Honestly? They were surprisingly nice. They were understanding and they listened. I was so worried that they'd think I was some cringy emo kid looking for attention. I honestly felt like a total knob going there, but I didn't have a choice. I never felt judged or like they thought I was wasting their time or that it was all my fault. Of course, I know that it was my fault and I felt like a fool. But I also don't blame myself for becoming so desperate. At one point a doctor came in with a medical student who was visibly shy and embarrassed when examining me. I told her I had a place at medical school, so not to worry as I'd be in her place soon. And again, I was shocked because they didn't once tell me not to go. I thought they were going to say "if you can't cope right now, starting medical school isn't for you!" But they never said anything like that. Instead they were shocked I'd gotten in to such a good uni and seemed incredibly genuine when they wished me well.

Oh, and the wounds? Thankfully I didn't need stitches so I got them pulled together again with steri-strips. And in case you didn't believe me that I didn't intend them to be so bad, I nearly passed out three times after looking at them. So, I truly am a fucking idiot, Josh. Lesson learnt, I suppose. Though I'm still afraid what will happen next time I run out of options.

It's finally the end of the week now, but the universe still hasn't given me a break. My mum called earlier and told me my rabbit will be crossing the rainbow bridge tomorrow as he seems to have had a stroke. I mean, it's a small mercy that he's an old bunny and he's been unwell for a long time, so it's not a shock. But it's still so sad and I'll miss him so much. What really tops it all off is that I was going to see him this weekend until I had to cancel my trip home due to the workload.

Man, I just. Why does shit stuff seem to come so easily to me? It's difficult not to feel personally victimized when shit news after shit news lines up so well. I wish good things came as thick and fast. I hope to fuck my luck changes soon because honestly I'm terrified that it's taking years off my life.

Thanks for listening, Josh,

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faofinn · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Whumptober Day 9 (Alt. 4)

@whumptober2020

Sheila had warned Fao, again and again to behave, to not be stupid. And yet, somehow, they’d ended up in A&E. Again. She often wondered if Fao was actually the more mature one, if the ten year age gap between the two brothers meant anything, or if the two of them were just as mad as each other.

Then again, if the amount of times she’d ended up there with her husband were anything to go against, they were all daft. They were all daft and she was stuck in the middle of them all, trying to control the chaos. With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around Fao.

“Are you warm enough?”

It had at least been a genuine fuck up this time. Of all the times he'd ended up in A&E from something that he ought to know better for, at least this time had just been a mistake. He'd been trying to put his laundry away, and the cat had gotten under his feet (he was perpetually hungry and in need of attention). He'd tripped and smacked himself on his bedside table on the way down. Now he was bleeding with a pounding headache and a blooming black eye. And he had placement next week.

“‘m fine. Just bored.”

"Are you sure? You've only got a hoodie on."

“It's not even cold.”

"You're not exactly the best judge of it right now."

“Irish blood. Don't get cold.”

She huffed. "Irish blood my arse. There won't be much left of it in you, it's all over the bloody carpet."

“There wasn't that much. Seen more.”

"Yeah, normally from you."

He groaned. “It’s the cat's fault.”

"It's always the cat's fault."

“Wouldn't have tripped if he hadn't been begging for food.” Fao grumbled, leaning against her. “This headache is killing me.”

"You wouldn't have tripped if you'd been watching where you were going." She told him gently, no heat behind her words. "I'm sure it won't be too much longer now."

“Am I still bleedin’?”

She hummed, pulling away to look at him. "It's coming through the bandage a bit.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Typical.”

"Tell me about it." She pulled him closer. "You and your brother...take after each other in too many ways."

“Finn takes after Fred.”

"You're all as bad as each other."

“Mm. Finn wins though.”

"Only because of his big accident." She murmured. "And if we're not counting yours before you came to us."

“That doesn't count. Wasn't an accident.”

"No. And if I ever met him, that wouldn't be an accident either."

“Don't want you in prison.”

"They wouldn't catch me. Be too fast for them."

“Still.” Fao insisted. They called him through then, and he swayed as he got to his feet.

"Hey, hey." Sheila wrapped her arm tighter around his waist. "Careful. No more falling over."

“Was just a tiny bit dizzy.” He protested.

"Sit then. I'll get a wheelchair."

“No. It's fine, gone now. I can walk.”

She gripped tighter. "You're having one on the way back."

“Nah, I'm fine.”

"We'll see what they say. Fred and I have bets on whether you'll need stitches this time."

“Rude.”

"Maybe if you'd stop falling over the cat, we wouldn't have to."

“Maybe the cat should stop tripping me up. Should have stayed in my flat.” He grumbled, though he soon made it through and sat down somewhat heavily.

"Fao, hi again. What have you been up to this time?"

Fao glanced down at his lap. “Tripped over the cat, cut myself on the table.”

"It's always your cat, isn't it? Wasn't your brother in with a cat related injury last week?"

“Probably.”

"You just hit your head? Or did you hurt somewhere else too?"

“My arm feels a little bruised but nothing broken.”

"We'll have a look at that to be on the safe side. Can I check your head? How are you feeling?"

“Tired.” Fao said, but nodded. “A little dizzy? A lot dizzy. And I have a headache.”

He nodded. “A lot dizzy? You must have hit your head pretty hard. Did you knock yourself out?”

“Maybe?”

“Any pain along here?”

Fao winced. “Yeah.”

“Sorry kid.” He murmured. “I’m gonna have to take this lovely bandage off and have a proper look, yeah?”

“Go for it.”

“Was it mum who put this on? She did a great job.” He laughed quietly. “I guess she’s had a lot of practice with you.”

“We've got her well trained.”

"I bet." He smiled, finishing his examination. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're going to need some stitches there."

“I figured as much.”

"I swear he's going for stitches on every body part." Sheila muttered, reaching for Fao's hand.

“‘M not that bad.” Fao protested.

"He is." She replied with a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sure most teenage boys are the same, always getting into scrapes."

“I’m 21.” He grumbled.

"University student though. All the same."

“I'm still blaming the cat.”

"I'm sure it was."

He sighed. “I've got placement next week. I'm going to look a state.”

"Oh, placement? What are you doing?"

“I'm a third year medic.”

"You'll know all about this, then."

“Yeah.”

"We'll give you it and you can stitch yourself up, eh?"

Fao snorted. “Think I'll leave you to it.”

"He'd stitch the wrong side of his head." Sheila teased gently.

"We'd best do it then. You can do the next one." He laughed. "I'll just get the numbing stuff sorted and then we'll crack on, yeah?"

“Sure. Where do you want me? I don’t know what’s easiest for you…”

"We'll get you on the bed and make sure you're comfortable. There'll be a few sharp scratches which won't be too comfortable, but it means that we'll be able to do the stitches nice and easily."

Fao shrugged. “Whatever’s easiest.”

"We need you to be as comfortable as possible."

“Okay.” He said, awkwardly getting to his feet.

"You alright? You're not going to faint on me, are you?"

“I, uh…” Fao swayed, reaching out panickedly for Sheila.

She grabbed his hoodie, slipping her other arm under his. "Yeah, don't count on it."

"All right. Why don't we sit back down? We don't want to cause any more damage."

“‘m fine.”

"We can make it to the bed." Sheila muttered, trying to help Fao. "At least then we won't have to get up again."

The bed wasn't far, and Fao felt somewhat better now he could lean on Sheila. He sat down heavily, gripping the edge of the bed tightly.

“You alright, kid?”

“Yeah.” Fao breathed after a minute, now the dizziness had subsided. “Yeah, ‘m fine.” He settled back on the bed slowly, glancing at Sheila.

“Really?” Sheila asked softly, moving to hold his hand in hers.

“Just stood up too fast, got a bit dizzy. I’m alright now.”

“That’s been happening a lot lately.”

“Because I smacked my head into a table.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not just today. You used to do it when you lived with us.”

Fao shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is when you pass out.” She shook her head. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t always pass out. I think my blood pressure is just low. No big deal.”

“You need to make a doctors appointment.”

“Alright, Fao. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Fao said, closing his eyes.

Sheila tightened her grip on his hand, turning away. She wasn’t going to watch it if she could help it.

“Okay, sharp scratch then, Fao. Try and stay as still as possible for me.”

Fao hummed, breathing slowly as he waited for the sting of the needle.

He was quick and deft with the needle, numbing the area. “You’re doing really well.”

It stung, and Fao’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. He knew better than to move. He exhaled slowly once it was done, still not daring to open his eyes.

“There we go, just give that a few minutes to work.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“How are you feeling? Dizzy? Sick?”

“No worse than before.”

“That’s good. Keep breathing.”

“Yeah, I plan on it.”

He laughed. "Always good to do that."

“Yeah, I do my best.”

"Alrighty. Can you feel me touching along here?"

“No.”

"Great. We're gonna get started then. You grab your mum's hand, eh? Try not to break it though."

"You better not." Sheila laughed weakly. "Quite like that hand."

Fao took Sheila’s hand, squeezing gently. He wasn’t particularly bothered by the stitches, but it was nice to have a little bit of comfort.

"Try and stay as still as possible, okay? If you need to stop, just raise your hand."

Fao hummed, not wanting to move to talk. He was happy to stay still as they stitched, staring up at the ceiling.

"You're doing really well, Fao. We're nearly done."

Sheila didn't raise her head but offered Fao a small smile. "Nearly done and we can get out of here."

He hummed again, squeezed her hand in response. It wasn't painful, but it was fairly uncomfortable. His teeth bothered his bottom lip, just wanting it to be over.

"Normally when I'd try and bribe Finn to behave with a treat, but I don't think we should be encouraging this with positive reinforcement." She tried to joke. "Sure we could make an exception though."

Fao shot her a dirty look, a crooked smile on his lips. He couldn't really protest, but his look was bad enough.

"What do you think?" She tried to distract him.

“I'll be happy with a cup of tea on the sofa.” He said quietly.

“You know Finn won’t let you get away with just that.”

“I'll be smothered.”

“When aren’t you?”

“When ‘m at uni.”

She smiled sadly. "He still sleeps in your bed."

“I miss him.” Fao murmured. “I don’t like leaving him.”

A few moments later, the doctor pulled back. “Okay Fao, we are all done.”

Fao sighed. “Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Just want to go home.”

They let him home a little later, with some concussion advice and instructions to come back if things got worse. He was tired and his head was still pounding, he was just desperate to get home and curl up on the sofa.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober day nine #no. 9 #stitches #whump prompt #whump writing #hospital #a&e #Faolan Blackwood #Sheila Daniels #The cat causes more issues #concussion #almost fainting #brothers in more than arms #Finn Daniels #(vaguely mentioned being cute lol)

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probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

Admittance.

Guzmán x Reader

Set after the end of Season 3 (assuming Nadia and Guzmán were never a thing)

Request from anon: The reader is Andér’s sister and she found out she is pregnant with guzmán, but they are like not a couple.

My requests are always open❤️

- - - - - -

“Come on, school can hardly get any worse now!” Ander laughs as the two of you walk towards school.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon,” You roll your eyes, smiling as you see Omar walking toward the two of you.

He looked so oddly fitted to the new uniform as he hurries down towards you. He’d had to come in early today to get himself sorted for the introduction into the school. And it lit up your heart when you saw how excited Ander was to see him.

“I’ll meet you inside, okay?” You mention to your brother, walking off ahead as Omar comes running down toward his boyfriend.

It was a completely relief to see them back together now, so comfortable and relaxed back into what was meant to be all along. You couldn’t be as excited to be back as those two were. There were a thousand questions of your future running through your head and you were sure you’d pass out if you kept them to yourself for any longer.

When you get through into the school, you instantly focus on Guzmán only a few metres away. He’s the only person you could focus on at the minute. He’s stood laughing with Samuel about something or other as he clasps him on the shoulder and pulls him in like they’re brothers. It was good for them to have someone like that - both hardly having the best luck with siblings over the past year.

You hurry down the corridor towards him and bypass anyone who didn’t hold that exterior that he did.

“Guzmán,” You say, grabbing his arm to turn his attention toward you.

“Hey (Y/n),” He smiles, “Ready for school?”

“Guzmán I need to talk to you,” You persist, glancing over your shoulder as people begin flurrying in past you.

He must see the concern that the words inject onto your face as he holds your arm to pull you away from the crowds of people.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” It’s Rebeca that joins you and the boys, smiling to Samuel as she does.

Before you can say anything more, Ander and Omar are making their way towards you too, joining the group in a situation you should feel completely comfortable in.

“Nobody gonna tell me how hot I look?” Omar gasps, spinning round proudly in his uniform.

Everyone else laughs but you and Guzmán are evidently uncertain. He didn’t know what you were waiting to tell him. But one thing was for certain - given what happened over summer, he didn’t expect anything good to come from whatever conversation would be had.

- - - - - -

You’d been in first period for approximately twenty minutes before you started to feel it. It was that feeling you’d been suppressing as much as possible all morning but was impossible to avoid now.

Instantly, you find yourself hurrying out of class and straight down to the closest toilets. Hunching over the toilet bowl and trying your best to hold your hair back too.

You slump back against the wall of the toilet stall and sigh, resting your head back as one hand finds its way onto your stomach.

Shit.

When you collect yourself together and come out of the bathrooms, Ander is stood waiting for you on the opposite side.

“What happened?” He frowns, “Are you okay?”

His voice is panicked as he scans you fearfully.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I must’ve just eaten something bad, maybe at dinner last night.”

Your brother’s frown doesn’t release, “I can take you home if you want to.”

“No, don’t be silly,” You shake your head, “It’s probably out of my system by now anyway but I might head home early.”

“Okay, just let me know.”

It kills you to lie to him. The two of you had gone through a lot together. But this summer had been a strange one for both of you. Whilst he was missing Omar and going through the last stages of his treatment, you’d not been as honest with him as you should’ve been.

- - - - - -

“(Y/n)!” Guzmán calls as he strides down the hallway toward you, “What’s going on? What did you need to talk to me about?”

You glance over your shoulder and already spot Samu and Rebe, followed by your Mum not far behind, “Not here,” You shake your head.

“Yeah, okay,” Guzmán nods, “My house is free, we can go to mine.”

He settles a large hand on your back and leads you through the school until the two of you start a silent walk back to his house. You weren’t about to confess this to him on a random sidewalk. In fact, you weren’t sure if there was any way you could confess this to him.

- - - - - -

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks calmly, opening the fridge, “I mean we don’t have much in...”

“I’m fine, honestly,” You encourage, “Thank you.”

“So, what did you need to tell me?” He turns around and leans back against the kitchen counter across from where you sat at one of the stools by the island.

“Okay, I don’t know how to tell you this and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner...” You can feel yourself starting to ramble so quickly hold it back to stop yourself, “But I’m pregnant, Guzmán.”

His face falls instantly, his folded arms slacking slightly, “You’re- you ar- you... pregnant?”

You don’t say anything, that already felt like it had drained you of all energy anyway.

“I- Is it mine?”

“I didn’t really spend my summer fucking multiple people Guzmán,” You snap, “Of course it’s yours.”

“But we... we were careful!” He points out, “The majority of the time.”

“Yeah, I guess that two, or three, times weren’t so lucky,” You sigh, “Look, I’m not expecting anything from you b-“

“Who else knows?”

You take a deep breath, “Me, and you. And the twelve tests I took to make sure.”

He can’t help but half laugh at that, “Have you been to the hospital? Told your Mum? Ander?”

“No, Guzmán,” you sigh, “I’ve spent the past two weeks trying to process it myself, and I didn’t want to do anything until I told you. So, no.”

He inhales deeply and runs a hand over his growing hair, “Shit.”

You fiddle with your hands in your lap and keep your eyes away from him, practically ashamed at your own admittance.

That’s how the two of you stay for a while. Both of you in silence, trying to process what this meant for practically everything in your lives. This summer had been an interesting one. It had started by you spending time with Guzmán whenever he was at the hospital for Ander, and then he’d walk you home when Ander had to stay at the hospital with you. Then it turned to him offering for you to stay at his when both of you would be home alone. Then a late night kiss that turned into more very quickly. And suddenly? The two of you were hooked on each other like you wondered how you ever went without. You both craved each other. It was only towards the end of summer that you both called things off completely - admitting that neither of you wanted things to go any further. Now? Any further had developed a completely different meaning.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as that growingly familiar feeling starts to flood your veins once again.

You find yourself hurrying to the nearest toilet instantly and repeat the events of earlier that morning. Only this time, you’re not alone in the school bathroom stalls. In moments, Guzmán is with you. His hand moves up to bunch your hair together behind your head, whilst the other rubs circles onto your back soothingly.

“You’re okay, you’re fine,” He repeats, though you’re not sure if he’s speaking more to you or to himself, “You good?”

You groan and sit back away from the bowl, flushing it away like it would get rid of any of the fear and terror that this whole process was causing for you.

You slumped back against the cupboard behind you and he sat opposite, drawing his knees close to his chest.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” You say quietly, “I know it’s probably not the kind of news that anybody wants to hear.”

“(Y/n), don’t say it like you should be feeling sorry for me,” He shakes his head, “You’re the one really going through it.”

You give him a sympathetic look to match, “I don’t think this is easy for either of us.”

The silence falls again and you fear that things will never be the same in your life, in that exact moment it all seems to hit you. You’d told Guzmán, Ander could easily freak out and hate you for getting with Guzmán in the first place, your Mum could hate how you’ve jeopardised your future, you-

“You know you won’t be alone, right?” Guzmán cuts through like a knife into your overpowering thoughts, “Whatever decision you make, whatever path you think is best for you, I’ll be there every step of the way. I know this isn’t what either of us expected but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ever let you go through it alone, I promise.”

It might be the overwhelming hormones but you find yourself bubbling with tears at those words, spilling before you have a chance to stop them.

“Oh god I didn’t want to make you cry!” He chuckles, shifting around to sit beside you.

Guzmán wraps an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him. And the two of you stay like that for as long as you need.

- - - - - -

It’s a few days later when you’ve finally booked to get a doctors appointment. And, just as he’d said, Guzmán is right by your side. He meets you at your house in the car, offers you a smile and had even brought a drink and snacks with him in case you felt like you needed it. He also managed to reel off what the entire process of this appointment would entail - having done his extensive research last night.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?” The nurse calls with an all too bright smile on her face and an unsettling welcome brightness in her eyes.

You take in a shaky breath and glance down at your stomach like you were trying to change the results of whatever they’d tell you.

“Hey, I told you, I’m right here,” Guzman’s hand locks with yours and he squeezes tightly, “Both of us together, okay?”

The two of you had never been more than that summer fling, you’d never even thought of him that way until the summer came, but he was showing himself in a different light now. And it settled you instantly.

The doctor is nice enough and goes through the procedures to tell you exactly what you’d expected. You were currently five weeks pregnant.

“Now, there are certain different options available to you (Y/n) and I encourage you to look into what works best for you,” The doctor explains as you lay atop the risen reclining chair with Guzmán seated beside you, “There are some leaflets I can provide you with, and I am more than happy to answer any questions that you have.”

You nod like you’re taking in all of the information he is saying, when you’re really hoping that Guzmán is instead. All of this felt too overwhelming to absorb.

“I encourage you to remember that this is your choice. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this decision and you should not base it on any other moral compass than your own,” He looks between the pair of you, “Your choice, completely.”

“If we chose to... when would we have a scan?” You ask cautiously, glancing down at your unmoving stomach.

The doctor smiles gently, “It would be scheduled for a few weeks time, that would be when the foetus would likely be visible and we could get a clearer understanding of what’s going on in there.”

Guzmán nods along and it looks as though he’s digesting it all. When you see him sat beside you, it’s like he has an odd maturity that you’ve never seen before. His shoulders carry him like he’s confident and collected, and he’s asked all of the right questions this whole time. What surprised you most was that his hand still hadn’t left yours.

“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” The doctor states before exiting the room and closing the door behind.

Guzmán turns to you and furrows his brows just a little, “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

You let out a shaky breath, “This is a lot Guzmán, and I don’t want to be making any decisions that you aren’t comfortable with or you don’t feel are right. This baby would be mine as much as it would be yours.”

“(Y/n),” Guzmán stops you, shifting closer in the chair than he had been before, “I know. And if you choose to have that baby, I’ll do my half. I’ll do it all, I’ll make it work, and I’ll be there every step of the way through the pregnancy and for every day after that. But I need you to remember that it’s your body, and you know how you feel.”

“You really think we could do it?” You let out a little laugh, “All from a summer fling?”

He chuckles gently but it curls his lips into the most delicate of smiles, “I think any man would be lucky to bring a baby into the world with you, (Y/n). And this might not have been the way you expected things to happen, or who you expected them to happen with - but I’ll be that man if you want me to be.”

With that, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to your hand that was intertwined with his. And some of that fear just about manages to dissipate. You feel like you’re finally letting that weight settle into his shoulders too and it’s not as scary as you’d imagined it to be. Sure, there was still a LOT more to come after this. You were yet to tell anybody else beyond this boy next to you. You’d have to go through the fearful process of pregnancy and child birth before you even managed to bring this child into the world. But somehow it seemed just a fraction more manageable as Guzmán was a man of his word. And the way his eyes smiled when the doctor confirmed your expectations had already told you enough. He would be that man. You didn’t have to be married, engaged, or a couple at all. You just had to have trust, trust that you’d both be there. And as he kisses your hand again, you become even more certain that he is.

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ficbynic · 4 years

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T H E M I S S I N G P I E C E - Chapter 1

Story page | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only |

"Isla, look! It's Miss Annabelle!" "Sophie, stay here. You'll see Miss Annabelle tomorrow, we're in a hurry!" "Isla, honey, stop! We have to go!" "Didn't you girls want to bake some cupcakes at home?" Their mothers' warnings and bribing weren't enough for little Isla and her best friend Sophie to stop making their ways to their favourite teacher. Scooting down the school's street pavement, the two seven-year-olds quickly caught up with the woman they elaborately said their goodbyes to just little over an hour ago. Annabelle Davies initially pretended she didn't hear her pupils gasping and talking about her when she walked the pavement along the street near school. Maybe this way, their mums would be able to hold them back. Finishing work early today, she wanted to catch the bus home as quickly as possible, allowing her with some more time to swiftly change clothes and head to the city as planned. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when she found the two girls' mothers had been unable to control their offspring. Strict parents were underrepresented at Wendlesworth High School, an independent, private school for girls aged 3 to 18, in South London. It seemed like the time they had with their children was limited, so whenever they were around, their girls could get away with pretty much anything. "Hi Miss Annabelle!" Sophie and Isla ran up to her, leaving her with no choice but to turn around and acknowledge them. "Hi girls. How was today's after school club?" Annabelle thought about the day of the week. "French today, wasn't it? What did you two learn?" She put her heavy bag on the pavement for a bit and checked the time on her phone inconspicuously. The girls didn't seem to notice. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq," one of them proudly chanted, a smug smile on her face. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Annabelle shook her head in pretend disbelief. "I have no idea what you just told me, Isla," she lied, "That is some great French vocabulary!" "It's not vocabulary! They're numbers!" called Sophie. Meanwhile, the girls' mothers who just collected them from school approached with apologetic looks on their faces. The looks told Annabelle they knew they should've been able to keep their daughters from running up to her. But the looks also held a spark of justification. Annabelle had seen The Look a thousand times by now and knew exactly what it meant. Every teacher at Wendlesworth knew. There was no way any of the parents gave their daughters a bath and put them to bed themselves every night. The fact that this afternoon, the mothers were able to collect their children from school was probably an irregularity. Normally, the girls' nannies would be taking care of that. Though that shouldn't be the reason of lacking healthy, parental authority, Annabelle thought. "I think it's time to say goodbye, girls. Miss Annabelle is on her way home, as well. We don't want to keep her up!" "I will see you two tomorrow, yeah?" Annabelle smiled down to the girls. "Remember what I told you today? There might be some snow when you wake up in the morning!" The girls' eyes lit up and they gasped again. "Is there gonna be lots?" Isla asked. "Mum, maybe we can use my sled tomorrow! Or we can go to Toby's and have a snowball fight!" With the girls' attention now diverted from herself to a much more interesting subject concerning the weather forecast, Annabelle smiled at her pupils' mums, simultaneously expressing regret for bringing up the possibility of snowfall knowing bloody well it would provoke a reaction and the girls' nagging about it could become annoying. The mums didn't seem to mind, gave in to their daughters suggestions, of course they did, and walked off. It hadn't been another minute of making her way down to the bus stop when Annabelle was held up again. "Oh, Miss Davies!" It wasn't a pupil's voice this time, so she couldn't just ignore it. Annabelle closed her eyes for a brief moment before turning around with a contrived smile on her face. It was Mrs. Rodgers. Fiona's mum. Of course it was. She'd already recognised her posh accent. Not that any of the other parents' accents weren't posh, but Mrs. Rodgers' was something else. Annabelle had the pleasure of hearing it quite a number of times the past few weeks, as Fiona Rodgers was a new student in class. "I'm sorry to bother you, I apologise." Mrs. Rodgers walked up to her. "It's just that I didn't manage to see you this morning and wanted to ask you if there's a way we can rearrange the parent-teacher conference we set up last week." "Absolutely. That's no problem at all," Annabelle assured, already making a mental note. "Oh, wonderful. That's lovely, I was already worrying about not being able to make it this term." "Oh, no, don't worry, we can change the date. There's absolutely nothing to worry about, Fiona is doing fine in class. She's really getting adjusted to the other girls the past few days, it's great to see." "I'm pleased." Mrs. Rodgers let out a sigh of relief. "She really does seem to love you, as well, she talks about you all the time." Annabelle's smile finally reached her eyes. "That's lovely to hear." "I will contact you about the rescheduling. Again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience." "Not a problem at all, I'll be available. My phone number is on the school website, you can ring whenever you'd like." Mrs. Rodgers thanked her and Annabelle increased her walking pace to catch the bus she had aimed for. ~~~ "There she is, right on time! What's going on, has the school burnt down?" called Caitlin from the table, as she saw her friend entering. Annabelle rolled her eyes but smiled, arriving at their go-to pub in central London later that evening, making her way towards her friends. "Hiya, Anne, how've you been?" Valerie greeted, "Haven't seen you in ages." "It's been, like, a month, Val," Annabelle commented, kissing her friend's cheek and wrapping her arms around her in a hug. She turned to greet Caitlin next. "Besides, it's always you lot who are busy." She got out of her coat and sat down. "You two alright? What have you been up to?" "You know, same old, same old. Getting back to work. Already failing my new year's resolutions dramatically." "Where's Laila?" "Running a tad late. She just texted," Caitlin informed. "Ah, there she is already, great timing," Valerie pointed towards the entrance of the pub, and the three of them saw their friend nearing. "Look at you! Did you actually beat me this time?" Laila turned to Annabelle, "What's happened? Did the school burn down or something?" She smiled, making the others laugh. "Is this an inside joke I am somehow not aware of?" Annabelle raised her brows. "It's not, don't worry," Caitlin reassured, "Sit down, Lai, we've just ordered wines, how've you been?" "Quite busy to be honest," Laila blinked, taking off her coat and putting it on the back of her chair. "Also, Dave has been a total git the past week. We consciously make an effort to go over our weekly schedules on the weekend, but my lovely husband failed to mention he'd be off to New York City for five days." David and Laila were newlyweds, and despite their little fallout this week, they were still on the newlywed high after marrying last September. David, born and raised Londoner, works as a thriving project developer, accepting assignments all over the country, as well as abroad. Laila grew up as the only daughter of wealthy, Indian doctors, and had followed in her parents' footsteps by becoming a successful biomedical research scientist. Needless to say, money wasn't a worry on either of their minds. With Laila recently turning thirty and talking about cutting down her hours at the lab, Annabelle knew exactly where this was going. In about a year's time, she would probably be sat with her group of friends organising another adorable baby shower, celebrating a perfectly beautiful, soon to be born baby. She could already envision the amazing eyelashes on the kid. "No way! And he didn't tell you at all?" Valerie gasped. "I would go mad if Chris had to leave town unexpectedly." Chris and Valerie. Valerie and Chris. They were two peas in a pot, ever since they started dating in their early twenties. They had been together for over ten years already, four of them as a married couple, and were parents to two beautiful children. Annabelle and Valerie's friendship went back the furthest, having gone to uni together. Both of them were aspiring writers, majoring in English and journalism. It was quite ironic how neither of them ended up in that field. "It was more like a 'By the way, did I mention I'm off to JFK tomorrow evening?' kind of thing. Either way, it was stressful," concluded Laila, "Anyway, moving on. What are you ladies up to, how have you been after the holidays?" "Fine, I've been fine. Getting back into the programme at school. It always takes the girls a bit of time to get back into it after two and a half weeks off, but it's all going alright," Annabelle told her friends, "There's a new girl in my class, though. They moved to the area over Christmas break. It's going well, but some girls still have to get used to having her around, and I have to deal with the worrying mum every other day." Annabelle thought about Mrs. Rodgers and how she had to remind herself the appointment that was scheduled for next Tuesday would be off. She quickly grabbed her iPhone from the table to scratch it from her agenda and make a note. "I don't know how you do it all, babe," Laila complimented, "Just the thought of having any person interrupting my work... I'm so glad I'm pretty much in the lab by myself all day." "You girls wouldn't even believe what the kids get up to these days, it's pretty incredible," Annabelle added. Caitlin shook her head, her eyes slightly widened as to say she was glad she didn't have a clue. One thing Annabelle knew for certain, Caitlin Jones would never have children. "I know, right?" gasped Valerie, "I look at mine and I'm gobsmacked at times, wondering what is going on in their little minds. I can imagine what it must be like to look after twenty of them." "No! No, you can't, Val," Annabelle argued. "Evie is three, Charlie is ten months old, they don't get up to proper mischief. I'm dealing with six and seven year olds all day. Way worse." "Yet you call it your dream job and would go bonkers without any children in your life," Laila smiled. Annabelle couldn't disagree and therefore kept silent. As much as she liked complaining about her kids in school after a long and difficult day, she was more than aware of the fact that she loved her job. She loved establishing bonds with the girls. She loved being able to actually teach them stuff. She loved seeing the kids' development over a year's time. She was truly lucky to have gone into teaching, a career path she hadn't thought of once until the age of twenty-five. "Look at those sparkling, blue eyes!" Caitlin pointed out, "You love it so much, it's endearing to see." She paused for a second. "Astonishing, but endearing." "Speaking of," Annabelle subtly changed the subject, "I have that appointment tomorrow." "Wait. The appointment?" questioned Valerie. "Oh my God, so you went through with it. How are you feeling about it?" Caitlin's eyes were wide. "Alright, to be honest. It's probably just going to be some information about it all, isn't it?" "Yeah, most likely, yeah," Laila imagined, pretending her experience as a biomedical lab scientist was of any use regarding the routine of certain doctor's appointments. "Anyway." Annabelle blinked. "I've managed to get the afternoon off school. Didn't have to mention why. No one besides you three knows, by the way, and I'd like to keep it that way-" "You haven't told your parents?" "God, no." She turned to have a sip of wine, the mere thought of it provoking the need of alcohol. "What about Daniel or Julia?" "Nope." Although no one but her three best friends knew about the pending doctor's appointment, Annabelle did try to talk to her mum and younger sister Julia about what had been on her mind for quite some time when she went home for the holidays. However, the both of them didn't really react the way Annabelle was hoping for, so she promptly decided against going into detail. She didn't feel like telling her friends about her family's stiff reaction, so she just told them her family knew nothing. "Like I said, I'm just starting to read into things, I like to be properly informed, that's all. It's not like I'm off making drastic decisions before telling my family. I'm nowhere near that point, so it wouldn't even be relevant." "Of course. We know you're being smart about this and that you're just gathering information," Valerie said. "Which is the most sensible thing to do at this point," Laila agreed. "Let us know how it goes, though," Caitlin added, "When you've found out something new or when you've decided on going through with... something." "Yeah, of course. Let's meet up for dinner and wines soon. Are you girls free any time next week?" Annabelle asked, already knowing what was about to happen next. Her thoughts were confirmed when everyone grabbed their phone, going over their busy schedules. Sure, Annabelle was quite busy herself, but that was at work. Her evenings would be clear ninety percent of the time, and mostly spent by herself at home. Her friends, however, seemed to have every minute of their days planned out weeks in advance. Visits to the in-laws, appointments at nurseries, date nights with their significant others... Meanwhile none of those kinds of engagements could be found in Annabelle's schedule. As expected, the four friends couldn't find a time to meet up next week. Or the week after. But they agreed on seeing each other again soon, promising they wouldn't let another month go by in the meantime like they unwillingly had previously because of the holidays. The subject of their conversations soon shifted from Caitlin's second date with a rich banker, to what type of handbag Laila would ask David to buy her in New York, to Valerie's confession of wanting to spice up her love life with Chris. Caitlin surely had some tips and tricks for her. Dinner was great. Annabelle appreciated the girls' company, enjoyed the night and felt relaxed on the journey back home as the Northern Line tube brought her back to the south of the river Thames right before midnight. | Next chapter coming soon > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |

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