#the pit madness was just pregnancy hormones

[tofuingho]

What if Danny and Jason met in the infinite realms when Jason was dead and started a relationship?

Jason gets brought back to life, with or without memories of what happened while he was dead, and Danny has no idea where he's gone.

Jason is going through his whole training for vengeance thing. Danny is searching high and low, calling on all of the ancients and all of his rouges, doing whatever it takes to get his boyfriend back.

Jason meets up with the Bats. Does his whole 'kill Joker if you actually care about me' thing. Heads in a duffle bag and what have you. Danny still can't find Jason, but is starting to figure out that Jason was Robin. Like, actually Robin and just a concept spirit like Clockwork.

Jason starts making amends with the Batfam, but his "pit madness" is still a massive issue. Tucker and Sam help Danny figure out that Robin was Jason Todd and he lived in Gotham.

Jason wakes up one morning and feels like crap. He keeps having random sharp pains in his chest. He goes to the Batcave to get Alfred to check him out. Danny gets to Gotham and starts searching for Jason when he senses something odd. It's like someone is calling out to him, so he follows the feeling.

Danny arrives just in time to see Jason "giving birth" to their child.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Hugging your frame, you retreat.

“I think you should leave Coriolanus.”

Your parents frown. He shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own, princess.”

As he reaches for you, you shy away from him. 

“I’d rather be alone forever than be anywhere near you.”

His sky gaze clouds over with anger, the hand falling at his side slowly clenching into a fist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.”

Coriolanus gasps. A look of hurt spreads across his features as he gapes at you like you stabbed him in the chest. This is an expression you’ve never seen him wear. You grow uneasy. He turns to your parents and sighs.

“I told you she’d react this way,” he says, sounding dejected. “Between the hormones and…everything else I told you about. I knew she’d be in denial.”

Strabo squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. It’s not your fault,” you father says, giving a forlorn smile.

Your mother’s eyes shimmer with concern as she looks at you.

“Sweetie, everyone cares about you here. If we just sat down and-”

A wave of irate heat surges through you. It begins in the pit of your stomach, swelling as you watch Coriolanus’ interactions with your parents. The way they comfort him, hug him. Like he’s more their child than you are. The prodigal son they always wanted.

After all, you are the throwaway child, you’re viciously reminded. The District 2 orphan they graciously took in who never quite met their expectations. Tragically lacking at every turn. A disappointment.

Your palms tingle as your blood starts to boil.

You rush down the stairs.

“No! Ma, Dad…” You seize your mother’s hand. “He lied to me, did things to me. He kept me in his house. He-”

Coriolanus’ brows thread, his eyes misting over with unshed tears.

“If you need to make me the villain in your story to make this okay, princess. Go ahead.” A mirthless chuckle floats from his lips. Once more, he looks at you like you’re the one causing him great hurt, not the opposite. His shoulders slump. “I’ll be the villain if that’s what you need.” He rubs his eyes, sadness twisting his features as he talks to your parents. “I’m sorry. I never realized it’d be this…difficult for her to accept what happened between us.”

“Nothing happened between us!” you shout, tears of frustration pressing behind your eyes.

He scoffs, blue gaze flicking over your belly. “Nothing?”

Your mother cups your face, her expression puzzled. “So Coriolanus isn’t…the father? You two never-” She glances at him then you. “Is William the father of your child then, sweetie?” She caresses your cheek. “We’re not judging you. We just want answers.”

You chew on your lip. Your attention darts from him to your mother, your insides clutching. A lie sizzles your tongue, nearly spilling in desperation, but you quell it. What would be the point? Your mother’s always known you wanted to wait. That was the plan, initially. And William isn’t the one you spent every day with for the last few weeks. Your parents are also aware of that fact.

There’s no doubt who the father is. They know it. You know it. And from the smug way he’s standing by your parents’ side, he also knows it.

“No, it…it can’t be William. It’s Coriolanus,” you admit begrudgingly. The words alone ache as they skip off your tongue. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “But he lied to me, Ma. So much.”

She tilts her head.

“Lied about what?”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“The night of the party, Sejanus-”

Your father’s thunderous voice interrupts your tearful confession.

“Enough!” he curtly rumbles. “You dare bring your brother into this? When Coriolanus was the only real friend he made all these years?”

A shocked exhale leaves your throat. You shake your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“Dad, you don’t understand-”

 “You’re not a child anymore!” he bellows.

His razor-sharp tone has you leap back in fright.

Your voice comes out small.

“Dad?”

He heaves out a deep sigh, pulling out his breast pocket square to dab the fat beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead.

“However this happened, it did.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever mistakes were made, a child is involved now. A small, innocent child. My grandchild. I will not hear anymore about this senseless teenage drama.” You deflate, your eyes growing wide. The finality in your father’s words pulverizes the last shred of hope within you. “And I will not let my own daughter drag our house into further ruin after losing my only son.” Your father winces, his hand clawing his chest. His knees buckle and he starts sinking onto the floor. Your mother and Coriolanus rush to his side. Your jaw drops. All the color drains from his face. Your mother starts weeping. You go to your father, helping him sit in the living room with your mother and Coriolanus as he takes large gulps of air. It lasts a while, long, horrifying minutes, his wheezing breaths causing your own pulse to race. You begin to wonder if you'll lose a father on top of a brother.

“Breathe, Dad, please…” you whimper, holding his hand.

After some time, it thankfully stops. Your father’s exhales slow down and he regains some color. Relief fills you. You genuinely thought you were about to see your father die right before you.

“Take it easy, Mr. Plinth.”

“Honey, your heart…”

Strabo waves off his wife and Coriolanus as they fuss over him.

“I’m fine,” he assures, his frown returning. His disapproving stare cuts into you. You shrink. “You’re an adult now and you need to start acting like it.”

Your mouth opens then clamps shut. You don’t want to upset him again, not when the argument from before sent him in such a state.

You lower your head. “Y-Yes, dad.”

“Sit down,” he instructs.

“O-Okay.”

You take a dour seat on the opposite couch. 

“Coriolanus, you sit down too,” he adds.

Your stomach sinks. The blond’s eyes find yours across the room. Your father is still recovering, hand on his chest, and your mother is too busy caring for your father. None of them see what you do. The winning glint dancing in his blue orbs and the almost imperceptible smirk as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Of course, Mr. Plinth.”

Once your father is better, he and Coriolanus start discussing the logistics of your new…situation. The entire conversation is a vivid nightmare, making you question your own sanity. You are there, but might as well not be, with the matter-of-fact way your future is being discussed as if everything is already set in stone. 

Your heart skips a beat when Coriolanus promises your parents to marry you before the fall. He says he wants to do it quickly to avoid any gossip, before you start showing, but also provide enough time to make it grand and memorable. It’s a stark contrast to what you and William had in mind. A small, intimate gathering of only your parents and a few of William’s closest friends. You both decided you only really needed the other in the end.

Coriolanus however sounds like he wants the entire Capitol to watch him slip a ring on your finger. 

Your insides curl in horror.

The moment living arrangements are brought up, your heart races.

“I can’t move in with the Snows,” you interject, shocked by what your father just suggested. Though, it shouldn’t surprise you. Your father’s a traditionalist. Of course, he’d agree with Coriolanus that you should move out of their home and swiftly into his.

“You will have no choice. We’re selling the house.” 

You bolt to your feet, your brows grazing your hairline.

“What?”

“The paperwork is already signed.” Your father crosses his arms. “We are moving on the floor below theirs. I had the entire place renovated. It’s quite spectacular, you’ll see.”

A humorless laugh escapes from your throat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be good, sweetheart. A fresh start,” your mother assures, rising to clutch your hands in hers. Her hopeful smile sends a wave of queasiness through you.

Your father’s gaze narrows.

“Coriolanus has graciously agreed to salvage your virtue by taking your hand in marriage…or whatever’s left of it, I suppose. You should be grateful he’s allowing you to save face. Many men would shirk the responsibility. You are lucky it was him.”

Your mind races, a million thoughts crowding it at once. 

“When is this move supposed to occur?”

“The entire house will be empty by the end of the week.”

Your breath catches. You give a slow, acrid nod.

“So it’s all been decided. I don’t get a say.” You snicker, backing away from your mom, backing away from all of them. This is a madhouse. Your brother died and they all lost their minds.

…Except for him.

He looks far too content with himself not to understand what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you. How could you be stupid enough to trust Coriolanus Snow?

You still remember the way he was at the Academy. Always observing, gauging, weighing in every situation to figure out what to do or say to get himself ahead. Always looking out for himself. You saw things in him that were never there. And now you’re paying the consequences.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to be here. Clearly, as always, you know best, Dad.”

“Sweetie…”

You slap away your mother’s tentative hand. Her mouth falls as heartbreak fills her eyes.

“May I be excused, Father?” you snap.

“You may,” he replies with a similar tone.

Turning your back to everyone in the room, you make a beeline for your room. 

The faint knock on your door is ignored as you bury your head further in your pillow. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now. No one in this house anyway. You have been betrayed. Sold out. Abandoned. By your own parents, no less. If Janus were here, this wouldn’t have happened, you’re sure of it. He always stood for what’s right. He never let anyone hurt you. He’d have never doubted a word coming out of your mouth. Your brother’s death left you prey to a monster.

“You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I knew you weren’t ready.”

Your head whips up. Adrenaline pours in your blood as you find Coriolanus leaning against your bedroom door. He locks it shut and you sit up immediately.

“All of this could have been avoided.”

“Leave me alone,” you hiss, shrinking in a corner of your bed.

Coriolanus frees a long, weary breath. He takes sluggish steps across your room. You tense when he sits on your bed. His deceptively soft voice propels ice in your veins.

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re making this harder than it has to be, princess.” He strokes your ankle. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ll be a good husband, a good father. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised.”

“How can you even be sure I’m pregnant?” you chance, hoping to erode that frustrating certitude laced in his tone. “It was just two or t-three times. It could be a mistake…”

A lopsided slant tugs his lips skywards.

“A mistake? After all the time I spent making sure it takes?” Befuddlement knits your brows. A chilling expression settles over the blond’s features. He chuckles. “Oh princess, god you are so sweetly naive. It wasn’t just three times.” A sinking feeling spreads through you. Coriolanus inches close to you, a small smile creeping on his face. “You know me, I’m a lot more thorough than that.”

You tremble, disarmed by his statement.

“What do you mean? It was. I remember…”

He arches his brow. “Do you?” Coriolanus cocks his head, fondling the side of your face. “You know, you look so pretty when you sleep. Vulnerable, defenseless. You also make such lovely noises. I mean, how could one resist…” You shudder, your eyes growing wide as saucers. “I’m glad the tea helped you find rest. You seemed so at peace. Like that sleeping princess in the fairytale. You never stirred, never woke up, never screamed. Not even once. You just kept making those sweet little noises…” His smile broadens, crooked and taunting. “Like you couldn’t get enough of it.”

You gasp and leap from your bed. The implication behind his words makes your head throb, queasiness engulfing your entire being.

All those times you awoke feeling strange, your body tired in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Now it makes all the ghastly sense.

A sinkhole opens beneath you, the blood seeming to drain from your body all at once.

You stagger backwards until your back collides with the wall, the only thing keeping you on your feet as your knees threaten to give out.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Get out of my room.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces matter-of-factly as he gets to his feet. He sighs. “Hopefully you’ll have calmed down so we can have the rest of your things moved to the penthouse.”

As your quivering frame clings to the wall, Coriolanus snorts.

“Cheer up, princess. You have a bright future ahead of you. I can already see us. Me as President and you as my beautiful First Lady. They will love you, I know it. Especially in the districts.”

“You’re…”

“Crazy?” he finishes. He approaches you. You’re paralyzed as he frames your jaw and articulates, “Not crazy. Focused.” His thumb skims over your bottom lip. “Which means when I want something, I usually get it.” His eyes twinkle. “Snow lands on top.”

He drops a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, princess,” he chimes. You remain still until he unlocks the door and disappears through it. When he’s gone, you let yourself crash onto the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore.  

You listen for the car outside, the sign of Coriolanus’ departure. Once the revving of the vehicle stops, only silence remaining, you make a mental checklist. You set aside the turmoil inside you, bottling every emotion tight. A warm coat. The sturdiest boots in your closet. Perhaps a dress or two. Sensible pants. Just in case. That stash of money Dad hides beneath a drawer in his study in case of emergencies. What else do you need? 

The more you mull it over, the more determined you become.

In a few hours, Coriolanus will return to take you away. He will not find you.

You will make sure of it.

As you rush through the cold streets of the Capitol, you keep pulling on the hood of your coat. Your panicked gaze darts across the night, your heart jumping every time so much as an alley cat crosses your path. Paranoia creeps in, making your nerves flare and your heart drum. 

What if Coriolanus had you followed? What if he was just waiting around a corner to drag you back to his house? Nothing is impossible nowadays. It might be silly but even as you snuck outside your childhood home, eyes seemed to trail your every step. Still, even as you peer around you, you find nothing but darkness crowding your sight. 

Your feet bounce as you linger on the doorstep. You hesitate before knocking, your fear and insecurities colliding inside you. You tremble as the chilly wind seeps through your coat. This could go so horribly wrong. You were so stupid. 

It would make all the sense in the world if he turned his back on you now. You wouldn’t even blame him. It’s what you deserve.

But before you can brace yourself to knock again, the door opens in front of you.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you toss your arms around him.

“William!”

He doesn’t move at first, frightfully still as you latch onto him. Your chest wrenches. Did you lose him as you feared? 

However, to your utter surprise, his warm, familiar hand sweeps over your back.

He lifts your chin.

“What’s going on…Are you okay?”

Whatever resentment he may have held onto, there is nothing but fondness and worry glistening in his forest gaze now. As if you never ripped his heart from his chest. As if you never left his loving embrace.

You grip the lapels of his shirt.

“William, I know what I said. I know you probably hate me…but I need to leave this place. Tonight.” Your voice warps with tears. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”

His brows draw together, confusion painted on his boyish features. He steps back to check you over. “Wait, slow down. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I’m pregnant.”

William stares at you for a long time. Shock, hurt and a million other emotions fleet across his face. Guilt flickers through you. You should have had this conversation with him a while ago.

He bites on his thumb and chuckles but it’s bereft of any amusement. He paces across the room for a while, looking at everything but you. Your heart shatters as you watch him. You didn’t want to put him through this.

He stops in front of you eventually, his mouth tight and his gaze sharp.

“Tell me everything. For once, I want the truth.”

“William, we don’t have time. In a few hours-”

He cuts you off sternly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you talk to me.”

Your shoulders sag.

“Right, that’s fair.” You gnaw on your lip. “I-I just don’t know where to start.”

He closes the door behind you. You let him take your hand and escort you to the living room. He points for you to sit across from him. William studies you, his hands joined in front of his face. His intense stares bears a hole into you. You fidget, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is hard to read. 

William releases a deep breath before running a hand through his tousled curls.

“How about you start at the beginning?” he says, his eyes diving into yours.

[abbatoirablaze]

TM Tragedy, Season 2, Chapter 6

Word Count:  2.5k

Warnings:  mentions of pregnancy, aggression, acts of violence, medical situation, Tig getting beat up a little bit, motorcycle accident, mentions of guns/gun running, vulgar language.

Mandy’s POV

"You're pregnant?"

I nodded, looking at him. He didn't look up from the pregnancy test.

"7 weeks...that means that..."

"The night Donna died." I said, confirming what he thought.

"Shit."

I sat on Luann's desk.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, "I uh...was 3 weeks at the time I got in the accident. Tara was doing exams and she was worried because she said my lower abdomen felt hard...she wanted to make sure I wasn't bleeding internally...and when they took me in for tests they asked if I'd been sexually active because it wasn't blood. I just took the test this afternoon when Tara came by."

"So, your mom knows?"

I nodded again, "yeah...my mom knows...and uh so does my dad.'

I watched has his eyes went wide, "Clay knows?"

"Yeah," I admitted, "this evening he came back to the house to talk with mom, and they sat me down...dad said that I needed to tell you first."

"He's gonna fucking murder me, Amanda."

I shook my head, "he won't. He promised me that...he's mad, and he probably won't talk to you for a while, but he won't kill you."

"Jesus," he said, running a hand through his mohawk, "is that why he said I'm off the run for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I admitted, "I said I was gonna tell you tomorrow and he said you'd need some time to absorb all of it."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Amanda," he began, putting the test on the desk, "baby, you know I love you. But are we really ready to do this? You're just getting your bearings with raising Rizario. Do you think we can handle adding a baby to that?"

I felt sadness in the pit of my stomach. He'd taken my hands in his own, but I dropped them. I felt betrayed by him, "what do you want me to do then Juan Carlos? Murder our baby? Abort it?"

"I didn't say that, baby," he said, trying to back track, "I'm just..." 

He tried to explain but I cut him off, "I'm gonna go home." 

"Mandy," he pleaded.  But it was too late.  I pushed past him and made my way towards the entrance of CaraCara.  When I got outside I remembered that Tara had been my ride down, and I didn't have a way back home.   I let myself slide against the side of the building and breakdown.  I heard the door open as noise filtered through, but I didn't bother to look up.  I kept sobbing into my palms.  

The metal warehouse made a thud beside me, before I could spot the dark jeans out of my peripherals.  

"Do I gotta break that dumbasses neck?" 

"You are the dumbass," I said sniffling, looking back up to my boyfriend, “Jc…”

He gave me a soft look and took my hands from my face, "I love you...I know I'm a dumbass, but we'll figure this shit out.  I promise.  I just.   This is a lot you know.  The first time we have sex and I knock you up...and you’re telling me that Clay won't murder me for it?  It's a lot of big news to receive at a porn party." 

I laughed and cried at the same time.  He wiped some of the tears from my face.  I put my hands over his, as he held my face. 

"JC do you want this baby?" 

"It wasn't planned," he admitted, "but I'm gonna love the fuck outta this kid if you want to keep it." 

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling misty eyed. 

"Of course." 

"Can we go home?" 

He nodded and helped me to my feet.  I got on the back of his bike, and he drove back to his house.  When he parked, he made sure to be extremely delicate with me. 

"You realize I'm pregnant, not made of glass, right?" 

 "I just...I want you to know that I'm here for you all the time baby..." he smiled and put a hand on my stomach, "both of you." 

"JC," I said, trying not to cry.  He looked at me, “Don’t…don’t do that.”

"What?" he asked, "did I say something wrong?"

I shook my head, wiping away some stray tears, "no.  Damn it I blame the hormones...I just...I'm so happy..." 

"We're a family baby," he smirked, "you're my old lady...that's our little one..." 

"And Rizario?" 

"Rizario is gonna be a big brother," he laughed, feeling the emotions he hadn’t otherwise allowed himself to feel, “this is crazy…right?” 

"We're really doin it?" 

He nodded, "yeah.  Yeah!  Come on.  Let's get you inside.  It's cold.  Last thing I want is you getting the flu." 

"Look at you," I joked, “being a good daddy already." 

He smiled as he led me inside, "remember that when I teach the baby how to ride a motorcycle." 

Jax’s POV "Military surplus as a cover," I smiled, "wish we'd thought of that."

"It's Edmond," Cam smiled, "boy's a genius."

"Oh Yeah?" Chibs asked, "he must take after his mother."

"Obviously."

"How do we carry?" Clay asked.

"Ten guns in each," Cam replied, "roll it up, strap it on.  Easy enough.”

He pulled out a bed roll and showed the slots where we could load the guns.

Bobby nodded along, "just a biker with a bedroll."

"Six riders," Tig nodded, "five dozen. That's a good haul."

"Runs are set up for the next three months. One every two weeks."

"We try to cover as many runs as we can with charity runs."

"Cops never mess with us when we're..." Ope laughed, "serving humanity."

"Rest of the time we travel in twos," I said, "stay off the main roads. Should be no problem."

"The 32," Cam smiled, "real pleased the way this worked out with Samcro."

"Well, you tell the scabby fence boys I'm all about the cause," Clay laughed, “always looking out for a brother.”

"You can tell em yourself-."

I looked at Chibs. His reaction changed.

Cam turned back to Clay after cutting his son off, "Edmond...Sorry. Jimmy O, some of the Falcarragh crew might be coming stateside if the time allows."

I bit my tongue as I looked at Chibs. He muttered something in Gaelic before saying, "their day will come."

The mood was killed, and we began to load up our bedrolls. Chibs was the first one back out to his bike.

"sorry about that, Clay," Cam said as we were leaving, “I-I didn’t mean to start nothing.”

He waved him off, "just...try and teach your kid a little about the history before he decides to open his mouth."

Cam nodded and headed back into the surplus shop.

"We good boys?"

Everyone nodded, and we were back off on our mission. It wasn't too long after that we'd met back up with the crew as they were about to hit the highway. The guys made room and we found our way to the tail end of the group.

Everything was going smooth until I heard Clay say something about a burning smell. I looked back and Bobby's bike began to backfire.

"Shit," I groaned, “this ain’t gonna be good.”

The engine sputtered and the tires squealed, leaving a black trail of smoke behind him. He ran into Tig, pushing him over the hill.

"Fuck," Clay said. We started all pulling over. Another guy slid out because of the smoke. One of the Nomad guys.  While the Nomad's checked up on their guys, Half Sack was the first to rush down the hill."Who's down?"

"Tig," Chibs yelled, rushing down the hill as well, "Shit. Tig. Tig, you all right brother?"

"Shit," Bobby said, getting off his bike, "Tig."

Half sack and Chibs began trying to pull Tig up the hill.  I ran down to grab his bike for him.  

"Shit," Sack yelled, "call an ambulance.  His leg is cut up really bad." 

"Fuck," Clay growled from the top of the hill.  When I made it up with Tigs bike I could see why.  He'd had a pretty good gash in his leg, "Bobby call a goddamn ambulance." 

Chibs managed to use some of the bedroll to bandage him up for a short time until the ambulance could get here.  

When we'd gotten to the hospital it took everything in me not to be annoyed. This run was a blow out because Bobby took the god damn dinosaur. But worse yet, we had Tig laying on a gurney in the hallway.

"He's stable," the doc said. She was speaking to Bobby, “a little bent out of shape…but he’ll live.”

"Sorry man," Tig said, taking his hand, “this is all fucked.”

"You just get patched up brother," Clay said, patting his hand, "We'll come by after the drop."

"Oh I'm gonna shove that bike so far up his ass," Tig growled, seeing Bobby, “that god damned dinosaur…”

"Gonna be...just fine," Bobby said, "I'll talk to the doc about getting you stitched up."

"You tend to his every beck and call," Clay growled at Bobby, "wipe his goddamn ass if that's what he wants you to do."

"Call Piney," I said, reminding the guys, "we got two bikes down. He's gonna need the flatbed."

Bobby pointed to sack, "that's you, kid. Call Piney."

Me and Clay shook our heads. I took one of the bedrolls and Ope took the other, but Clay was quick to take it off me.  I didn't fight him on that though.  Fuck it.  He wants the extra load.  Oh well. 

Tig’s POV

Anyone gonna tell me why I got scooped up?" I asked, "Nothing? No small talk? No hundred bottles of beer on the wall? No row, row, row your boat? Wow. Wow! Okay. I'll start. I'm guessing you played college ball there, baldy. Offensive line? Too much of a pussy to make the pro, and too stupid to graduate."

"Shut your mouth, asshole," the angry one said, “keep your mouth shut…we don’t need to hear shit from you.”

"Oh and you are clearly in it because of your aggression issues." I laughed, taunting him, “getting the bad guy…that make you hard?  Or is it just me?”

"You hear what he said?" "And you? You're at least half a fag. Probably in love with him and this job is just your way of staying close."

Anger issues sent a fist towards my nose. I felt my skull ricochet off the van.

"Knock it off," Baldy yelled at him, "we don't collect if we bring him in beaten. It's Oregon."

"Oregon?" I asked, "I've got nothing outstanding in Oregon."

"2001," baldy replied, "Assault and indecent exposure inside of a livestock transport."

"Shit. Thought that got squashed."

"Nope," he said matter of fact, "you skipped on a forty-thousand-dollar bond. Sick bastard."

I smiled, and looked at the black kid, "you're dying to ask me, aren't you? Go ahead, I bet you have half a stiffie, Oprah."

"Gag him."

Aggression tried to do it, but I headbutted him for the punch from earlier. His little gay lover forced me to the ground of the van and the two of them kept landing punches and kicks to my back and sides.

"Okay, OKAY!"

The bald guy turned around and decked me. I heard them arguing as they threw me out of the back of the truck.

"What are you hitting me for?" I laughed, "I was cooperating.  I was being good!"

"Shit."

I laughed as these guys were so easy to egg on. I'd just bought myself some time, and hopefully enough of it that the guys could find me.

"Oh come on," the driver yelled, coming back from the place he'd used as a piss stop, "what the hell did you assholes do to him?"

"He had it comin to-"

Aggression started. The guy cut him off, "I don't care what he said to you. We can't bring him in looking like that. They won't pay us unless we clean him up."

"There's a motel a mile or two up the road."

"Bet you know that motel pretty well, Oprah."

"Shut up," Aggression yelled, kicking me, “fucking piece of shit!”

"HEY!"

He rolled his eyes at baldy, who was trying to regain control.

They settled on a motel, not too far off the highway and I smiled for the second time in twenty minutes.  By now the guys had to have known where I was.  There was no way the prospect wasn't tailin them.  

Fuck, I could hear the unmistakeable roar of a bike going down the road, and then it circled back, but it never stopped.  

The idiots that were my captors never even seemed to notice though.  They just kept taping me to the chair.  When they were sure I was secure, baldy began trying to clean me up.  He kept saying that they couldn't collect if I looked like complete shit.

We'd made it through a quarter of a game recap when I saw the flatbed. I smiled through the duct tape as it backed straight into the room, blowing a hole in the wall.

"LET'S GO. LET'S GO."

"Don't move!" Jax yelled.

Happy and a masked figure rushed off the back and cut the tape holding me there.

"Don't you move, or I'll blow your balls off," Chibs said.

"Hey guys," I grinned, running to the flat bed, "I gotta tell ya. It's been a lot of fun. Really. I gotta go though. This is my ride. I just wanted to thank you for everything. And hopefully we can get to do it again sometime." 

"Come on," the masked figure said, letting me use them as a crutch.

"GO GO!"

"Go," sack said, jumping on last. The flatbed rushed out and turned left. Those jackasses were in such a state of shock they didn't move.

The guys began to cheer when we'd realized we were free.

"Mandy?"

She tore off her ski mask and handed that and the gun to Sack, before pulling me into a hug, "my god it's good to see you're okay."

"JAX!" 

"Blame Piney," Jax said quickly, “I didn’t want her to come…”

"Hey, she wouldn't let me leave when I told her that your bike went down," the old man began, trying to defend himself.  "You should have seen Clay's face when she pulled up with me.  He was pissed." 

"It's because this is club business." 

"No it's not," she said shaking her head, "dad's upset I went with you guys because I'm...I'm pregnant." 

I looked at the smaller girl in front of me.  She was biting her lip.  All of our jaws were practically on the floor, "You?  You're pregnant?" 

She nodded. 

"What the hell are you thinking Amanda?" Jax yelled, "you can't go on suicide missions like thi-" 

"Great," she sighed, "now you sound like Juice...are you gonna tell me that I shouldn't have helped Tig too?  He's my best friend." 

"Babydoll," I sighed, "I hate to admit it.  But dumbass is right.  If you're pregnant you're watching out for a second life too...it's not just you anymore." 

Her nostrils flared and she gave me a glare.  I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, "I just wanted to protect you." 

All I could do was pull her into a hug as Jax shook his head at me.

Chapter 7

Tag List:  @lohnes16 @evyiione

[manjiroscum]

all for you

Character/s: Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu

Warnings: f!reader, cursing, mentions of violence, pregnancy, established relationship, and a lot of fluff.

Note: this is for bby mari 😚💖 @marism thank you so much for the support 😭💘 ilysm

Synopsis: Your husband comes home in time to hear the good news.

✃WC: 1.3k

Married to Sanzu Haruchiyo for four years should’ve made you immune to his careless shenanigans and whatever hazardous job Bonten throws at him depending on what has been keeping them busy, especially since you used to be a member of said organization before the marriage. Yet, even after witnessing all the violence and blood-shedding, your heart still couldn’t stop aching whenever your husband gets a bruise, a blow to the head, or even just a minuscule cut that bled too much to your liking.

All you ever whispered into the ceiling whenever you were home all alone was his safety and for him to come back without any injuries. Maybe asking for it was too much, but you didn’t stop wishing for it. So, when you saw him, a big smile on his face after announcing he’s home with bandages on his head, your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

The hormones must be manifesting by now, evident in how your waterworks continued to flow despite Haruchiyo trying to calm you down, offering a trip to the family diner across the apartment to ease your hunger that quickly dissipated upon his arrival. Still, he dragged you out of the building and sat you on the leather seat across him. Hands snatching the menu from the intimidated server who would rather be cleaning tables than entertain you two. After ordering a few meals and fries, he then had the nerve to laugh at his state.

“It’s nothing, honey—I swear it’s just a kick to the head! Fucker didn’t even do much damage as he would’ve liked.”

A pout on your face, you thought of millions of ways on how to torment your husband for doing this to you—letting your mind worry too much and hating yourself because he might be annoyed by your constant fussing. You couldn’t help it—the cruel image of your husband dying or getting severely hurt was enough to give you nightmares. Especially now that you have to take care of someone other than yourself. Which is why your nerves were all over the place… you couldn’t do it alone. Wiping away tears that haven’t fallen with the back of your hand, you glared at your husband’s carefree statement.

“Nothing? Haru, you have a visible lump on your head! Don’t fucking tell me it’s nothing—you could’ve blacked out or… or something!”

Face clearly wincing at your words, Haruchiyo sheepishly laughed. Perhaps taking your volatile self to a family diner where kids could listen to such colorful vocabulary wasn’t a good idea. “Honey, don’t be so mad. You know the job is important and Mikey would’ve chewed us out if we backed out. Besides, Ran got out worst than I did—”

“You expect me to be happy about that? Haru, maybe I haven’t said this aloud for your head to take note but I’d prefer my husband to come back home unscathed. If Mikey has a problem with that, then I should talk to him about a thing or two!” The rest of your words died at the back of your tongue upon hearing Haruchiyo sigh, lowering your head. Another wave of tears formed at the possibility he had enough of your complaining. Who wouldn’t be tired after a whole day of working and coming home to receive an earful? “I-I’m sorry, Haru… I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just… I just don’t want to see you hurt. I missed you so badly and when I saw you had bandages around your head, I flipped instantly.”

His huge hands reached out across the table, calloused palms wrapping around yours and squeezed in assurance. Baby blue eyes warm and mirthful at your show of concern.

“Don’t apologize. I should be doing that… I’m the evil one for making my wife cry.” Seeing him smile sadly, you were bawling in an instant. It surprised him. Prepared for any police raid, assassination or even to defuse a bomb—Haruchiyo’s skills on cheating death was no use in this field, leaving him a blundering mess as he shot up from his seat to take the empty one next to you. “H-hey, hey, don’t cry. Pretty girl, you shouldn't be wasting your tears on me...” Arms embracing your quivering form, he cooed. “Come on now, your eyes will get puffy.”

“I-I can’t seem to stop, I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his chest, the comforting beat of his heart lulling you to a peaceful state of mind. “I’m so emotional these past few days, I fucking hate it.”

“Is it because of your period?” he whispered, nimble fingers carding through your hair. “I’ve been gone for a long while, so I’ve lost track of it. Wanna get a milkshake? Or do you want to drink a few beers? We haven’t got to do our Friday movie night last time and I feel bad for leaving you all alone at home. Must’ve been damn lonely.”

Peeling yourself off of his comforting hug, you glanced up at him. Unable to contain your excitement. You were going to tell him the good news until you saw his bandaged head, putting him first before anything else. Now that you’ve calmed down, it was the perfect time to do so. “Mhm, it’s alright. Although, no beers for me, Haru. Maybe we can drink together again after… a year?”

“A year? How come?” Haruchiyo was confused by your words, unable to pinpoint exactly why you couldn’t. “Did you find out something? Wait, you went to the hospital a few weeks ago, correct? You haven’t been feeling well...” His face paled in realization, slightly backing away that made you nervous too. “Fuck, are… are you ill? Did those doctors find something? Shit, get up.”

“H-huh?”

“I said get up, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Haruchiyo was quick to stand, hand wrapped around your wrist and urging for you to do the same. Bewildered by his actions, you sat there gawking at him. “I don’t know any doctor, so I’ll ask Kakucho on the way there if he knows a good one. I won’t have you catching some stupid illness—not on my fucking watch.”

“Wait, why are you taking me to the hospital? The food isn’t even here yet.”

“But you’re sick.”

Brow raised at his odd behavior, you then giggled and patted on the seat once more. “Listen, you should let me finish first before jumping to conclusions. I haven’t even reached the best part!” Biting his inner cheek, Haruchiyo slowly did as he was told and sat once again. Still, he was anxious with the way he was squirming.

“So… you’re not sick?”

You shook your head, hearing him sigh in relief. “Actually, it’s much better than what you’ve envisioned. I went to the doctor last week, correct?” Seeing him nod, you continued. “Well, I went back a few days ago just to make sure and I apologize for keeping it a secret this long. I didn’t want to have our hopes up, knowing we’ve been trying for so long.” You cleared your throat, signaling that you were quite serious as you stared into his eyes with a beaming smile. “Haru, you’re gonna be a father.”

“W-what?” It took around ten minutes before he spoke, voice soft like he was about to cry. “What did you say—could you please repeat it, hon?”

“H-Haru, I’m pregnant,” you stammered, getting emotional once again seeing how his lips quivered. Azure irises glistening with tears as he hugged you tight, muttering endless words of gratitude into the crook of your neck. It didn’t took long for him to recover, cursing under his breath at the tears streaming down his cheek and saying he’ll kill anyone who saw him cry.

“C-can I kiss you?”

“Gonna makeout out here in the diner?” you laughed, yet still leaned close to his face, cheeks warm at the close proximity. The scars on the corner of his lips all curled up in happiness at the news, palm never leaving your stomach that was protecting his growing child. “I thought you hate that shit, said it’s cringe.”

“I know, but if it’s with my wife… I don’t fucking care. I’m just so fucking happy,” he whispered before capturing your lips into a passionate kiss, carrying all promises of keeping you and the baby safe. “If anyone complains, they’ll be eating my gun.”

“Haru, no.”

🎐taglist: @ranilingus @wakaslut @sanzuchi @thesimpsclub @s-ugei @tobidabio @nameless-shrimp @festive @blueparadis @stffychn

[saintlike78]

Hey Love! Since u want to know my requests here go more one; Marauders x Fem!Reader (I'm a just a little bit obsessed about them hihi:), the reader is pregnant from her first baby and she's so emotional and sensitive cuz pregnancy hormones and she's crying for everything, at the same time she gets mad about anything, and she's horny all time, so she's like a mess of feelings.

(I thought this idea after seeing a scene from Grey's Anatomy, so if you want to check it out to understand; season 9, episode 12, minutes 02:40 to 04:00)

By; Cora🌈 (and the fic that u made about my last request is more perfect than I ever imagined <3)

Those stupid hormones [Poly Marauders]

A/N: Another great request from Cora! This was so fun to write. We all know that out three boys would be the sexiest dilfs ever, you can’t prove me wrong.

Pairings: Poly! Marauders x Fem! Pregnant! Reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: NSFW 16+, very soft and fluffy, dry humping, polyamorous relationship, pregnancy pains, mention of morning sickness and nausea. As always lmk if I missed anything.

The cool water dripped down your face as you stared at your flushed reflection; pink from the blush that had crept its way up your neck and latched itself onto your cheeks. The nap you had woken from had done nothing to soothe the surge of emotions that ran through you like electricity, the cause being the life growing in your belly. The news of your pregnancy had brought you and your husbands nothing but immense joy, but actually being pregnant was another story and you weren’t even that far along, already dreading the next few months filled with pain and changes – you just wanted your baby to be here already and spare you the grittiness in between.

Having dried your face with your towel and concluding that the pink that had overtaken your face and neck wasn’t going away, you made your way to the living room where the hushed voices of your husbands were residing. Trudging down the hallway you could feel the warmth between your legs, arousal churning, making your face even pinker than it already was.

Having finally made it to the living room you looked upon your three beautiful men, enjoying seeing them relaxed just being with each other and waiting for you.

James and Sirius were seated on the long couch, cuddled up in one end and conversing gently with one another, a rare sight of calm between the two.

Remus was sitting in the armchair with a book in hand focused on the words in front of him not paying attention to James and Sirius’ conversation, but smiling fondly when his eyes sometimes left the page to observe two of his lovers.

As Remus’ eyes left the page for his momentary check on Pads and Prongs, he caught sight of your figure looming in the doorway, a gentle smile on your face as you also observed the two men on the couch.

“Hi bun, good nap?” Remus asked as soon as he noticed you, closing and putting his book down on the small table beside the armchair; the two others looking up as well and smiling at you.

You only hummed in acknowledgment as you made your way towards the scarred man who’d asked the question, crawling on the chair to straddle his legs and wrapping your arms around his neck not giving him any time to process before your lips were on his in a needy kiss. Even though he was surprised, he reciprocated in no time wrapping his arms around your body and holding you closer to him. You whined lowly into the kiss as he slipped his tongue past your lips, your hips instinctively grinding down gently, testing the waters.

Your kiss was interrupted by the sound of Sirius clearing his throat very loudly and dramatically, not enjoying not being a part of whatever was going on between yourself and Remus. You turned your head to look at the culprit of the sound, breathing heavily as you stared at him with wide eyes, both James and Sirius looking back at you with a questioning raised eyebrow.

Remus placed a hand on your cheek to turn your face back to face his, his own brow also raised to match the two others' look of questioning.

“What’s going on Bunny? Not that I’m complaining, just curious,” Remus asked, but a cheeky smile and tone replacing his normal calm and serious voice.

Sirius adding to Remus’ question, “I’m also taking it you’re not cross with us anymore.” Sirius referring to the reason for you taking your nap; you practically being sent to bed after snapping at James for making your tea too hot, then being told off by Remus and Sirius only for you to cry and snap at them as well and Remus ‘suggesting’ a nap for you to cool down.

“No, I’m sorry for being mean… especially to you, Jamie,” you turned to look at James, giving him an apologetic smile.

“That’s okay, baby… I know you didn’t mean it,” he smiled back, his usual big goofy smile, letting you know that he wasn’t upset any longer, probably never was.

You turned back to Remus, looking into his eyes and letting yourself momentarily be lost in them, “I just really need you right now,” you said distractedly, earning yourself a smile from the lycanthrope you were seated on.

Remus leaned forward to kiss your nose, your face scrunching up in the process. His hands snaked around to grip under the back of your thigs before standing with you in his strong grasp, making the short journey to the couch and waiting for James and Sirius to break from each other so that he could seat himself between them.

When Remus was seated with you comfortably, James reached forward to tug a piece of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek in the process.

“You feeling better, darling? You still feeling poorly?” James asked, your days lately having been filled with nausea, morning sickness, and discomfort.

“I’m feeling better… just a little achy,” you sighed.

“Where are you achy?” Sirius reached forward to rub up and down the expanse of your back, whilst his other hand rubbed gentle circles on your growing stomach.

“A little in my back… my boob… and my…” you paused, taking Sirius’ hand moving it lower on your stomach, right above your ache, “… here.”

“Ahh, I see,” Sirius nodded calmly, though Remus and James didn’t miss the small sparkle in Sirius’ eyes at the excitement.

You slowly started grinding your hips onto Remus’, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes at your desperation, “please,” you breathed out.

“Aww, bunny, don’t cry… we’ll help you out,” Remus laughed, grabbing your sides to stabilize you.

“Don’t laugh at me! I can’t help it… I’m so achy,” your frustration was clear, and the tears that had gathered threatened to spill.

“We’re not laughing, darling, you’re just so adorable,” James grinned, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’m sorry, please just help me… please,” the first tears fell and slowly ran down your cheeks as you continued your grinding, not actually sure why you were crying.

Sirius removed the hand from your back and wiped your tears with the pad of his thumb while cooing, “Don’t worry, puppy, we got you.”

With that he reached a hand into the loose shorts you were wearing, reaching under the waistband of your panties as well, not wanting to put any more stress on you by teasing, his fingers instantly found your clit.

You did miss the rougher sex you would have before you found out you were pregnant, but the boys refused to put you in any sort of stressful situation when you were already going through so many changes and experiencing so many things at once; they decided that it would be best to be soft and gentle with you unless you specifically requested something else.

“Go ahead, grind that pretty pussy on my hand until you cum, pretty pup,” Sirius said as his fingers slowly started rubbing circles on your clit as your hips picked up speed at his words.

A breathy moan left your lips followed by a whimper of pleasure as your eyes fluttered close at the sensation.

Remus’ hands had moved to hold your hips, aiding your movements and choosing the speed at which you moved.

James took your face in his hands, “eyes on me, darling,” he spoke to which you complied, opening your eyes to look at his face. James leaned in for a kiss, enjoying the noises you would choke on when you ran out of breath, the small whines and whimpers being enough for him to cum in his trousers, but he controlled himself – this was for you.

Sirius’ fingers picked up speed as saw the pleasurable shiver run through your body and the small twitch it was accompanied by.

Your breathing increased and the moans became less controlled as the familiar feeling of pleasure grew in the pit of your stomach. Remus picked up the speed of your hips, occasionally bucking his hips to create more friction and pressure for you, but also creating friction on his cock trapped in the restraints of his slacks. Remus’ breathing increased as well, a few grunts and small low moans could also be heard leaving his mouth.

“Gonna cum,” you moaned out as your hips lost their rhythm, stuttering slightly as the pressure in your abdomen gave away, your orgasm ripping through your body, hands gripping Remus’ shoulders to stabilize yourself as your body shook from the orgasm.

Sirius’ fingers were still working on your clit, working you through the feeling, the moans you were releasing like music to his ears.

Remus’ hips bucked once more before he shook as well, releasing a strangled and stuttering moan, his cum making a mess in his smart slacks. “Fuuuck… baby,” he breathed out as he came, his fingers gripping your hips, but not hard enough to hurt you.

Sirius’s grin was so large you were sure it would break his face. He removed his hand from your shorts, kissing your cheek before cheekily looking at Remus. James was trying to keep his smile at bay, but failed miserably, a small giggle escaping his lips.

“Damn, puppy, look what you did,” Sirius grinned.

You looked at Remus’ face, who sported a lopsided smile; you were always surprised at the effect you would have on them at times, this had happened before, but it wasn’t often.

You giggled slightly with James, “Sorry, Remmy.”

“No need to apologize… this is just what happens when an unbelievably sexy, soon-to-be milf sits on top of me,” he laughed, winking at the last statement, causing all of you to burst out laughing.

“You’re going to be the sexiest milf ever and we’ll be the sexiest dilfs, all the other parents are going to run away screaming,” Sirius joked, standing proudly to do a couple of poses, showing off his muscles, James standing as well to pose with him, another fit of laughter rolling through all of you.

You shook your head, “I love you, my most sexy, soon to be, dilfs.”

“We love you too, pretty baby.”

Tags: @dracosafety, @justadreamyhufflepuff, @teenwolfbitches28, @emma67, @trouble-in-space, @sciapod, @kermiemoon, @autumnandwinteraesthetics, @roonilwazlibswhore, @whitecastles, @sprucewoodlover, @lexi_shoto,

If crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you!

[shelbywanders]

“Dear pregnant, glowing, happy friend,

Let’s cut to the chase: Yes I did ignore the scan photo, the maternity pictures where I’m sure you’re gently holding your swelling bump & gazing wistfully into the distance (I haven’t looked to be honest) and your invitation to the baby shower. There are no hearts or comments from me on those. I’ve put you on mute.

You have plenty of friends, half of whom are pregnant like you so I hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you clearly have. I hear you’re a bit upset with me over this. I’m honestly not a horrible person, so here’s why you’re suddenly dead to me, and I hope that you can try to understand:

I can’t stand looking at pregnant women at the moment, and unfortunately I can’t make an exception for you. Yes, you’re more than a walking womb – you’re my friend & we’ve got history, so how dare I ignore you just because you got pregnant, right? What kind of evil witch does that?

This cuts both ways though – as my friend you know exactly what I’ve been through trying to get pregnant. You see, I’m currently an infertile woman and you’re a pregnant woman, and absolutely everyone is happy to throw my mental health under a bus to make a fuss of you. Including you. I’m expected to suck it up for you, but it’s the end of the world if I expect the same consideration. That’s just the way it is apparently – I don’t make the rules.

We have all said “Be kind!” but do we mean it?

It doesn’t matter how much we say “be kind!” and “mental health is important!” when you’re a woman that’s not able to make babies. My mental health matters less than a like on a picture of a scan to some people – and definitely less than a party. You can withdraw our friendship because you think that I owe you the appropriate amount of fawning over your baby shower, even though you know I’m in the middle of IVF. Yes, that sounds appalling, I’m not proud of saying that, but as I will continue to mention – this is a mental health issue – it’s not about manners.

It is not your fault that you don’t understand what’s going on with women like me, and I’m not actually mad with you for that. I’m mad with a society that treats infertile women like they’re selfishly making a fuss, if they dare to try and excuse themselves from the carnival of joy that follows a pregnant woman into the office and beyond. That seems to forget about us & then gets annoyed when it’s reminded that we do exist. That can laugh kindly and be understanding about the emotional behaviour of a pregnant woman, but is quick to label us selfish or drama queens or jealous, if we are sensitive about trauma triggers such as pregnancy. It feels like we’re pitted against each other somehow, and it’s so unfair. We have phrases like “hormones” and “baby brain” to ensure that we make space for a pregnant woman’s reactions and emotions, but we don’t have a way to tactfully say to pregnant women “Hey, maybe you should give your friend with fertility struggles some space and not shove that big old pretty bump in her face right now!”

Of course pregnant women are in a vulnerable and unique position, and pregnancy is hard and of course we should all look out for them. I’m just saying – anonymously, because I know how deep this goes in society, that maybe we don’t have to routinely disregard the mental health of infertility sufferers, for the sake of special parties and social niceties? Those things could take place without us. You could graciously excuse us from all of that, if you knew how deep our suffering runs.

Instead we’re expected to fawn over people who (innocently) trigger our deepest feelings of sadness and anger, with a fake smile on our face and a congratulations card – and I’m sick of it. We’re all sick of it, but I’m just especially sick of it at the moment. I don’t deserve it – and you don’t deserve this bitter version of me that exists at the moment. What if I could just say hey – congratulations but I’m just having a hard time with this because I can’t get pregnant myself. You could say “OK, good luck with that. Not going to be offended if you don’t get involved right now, but you’re always welcome in the future!”

What if we could handle infertility vs pregnancy better?

So we don’t currently handle it that well, and I’m going to miss your whole pregnancy, and that’s obviously a big deal, right? I don’t actually want to miss a huge chunk of your life, but here’s the kicker – I have to. For my mental health. Because it’s just as important as your mental health. You, as a woman who hasn’t had fertility issues, and apparently got pregnant just by glancing at your husband’s penis in the shower- have no idea what’s happening to me. You will think – as society tells you to, that I am being bitter and uncaring and mean because it’s just in my nature to be like that. That I’m making it “all about me”, when I actually just want to slink away unnoticed. But why would you know any better if no-one ever tells you this stuff or talks about it? Can we just bloody stop this merry-go-round and get real about it please? I’m not mean or uncaring – I’m just struggling with pregnancy. Including yours.

Give me a pass for heaven’s sake. I couldn’t even cope if my cat got pregnant right now, never mind someone I went shopping at Tammy Girl with. Pregnancy is deeply, horribly triggering when you desperately wanted a baby and tried your hardest, but instead you had a miscarriage, a chemical pregnancy, a failed embryo implant, an ectopic pregnancy, a termination for medical reasons or a stillbirth. Show me a woman with fertility struggles who hasn’t had at least one of those. A scan is the very last thing you want to look at. A baby shower is the last place in the universe you want to be. But I’m not allowed to simply say “Thanks so much for the invite, truly happy for you but can’t deal with pregnancy RN because I’m doing IVF again” in case it impinges for five seconds upon your fairy-tale. I wonder if I’ll be the same if I ever get pregnant. Probably not, knowing what I know now.

Fertility struggles have given me a new perspective

So what is it that I know now? That infertility is traumatic. That IVF is mentally and physically hard, and it doesn’t always work. That it can cause relationship strain and feelings of inadequacy and mental health challenges galore. Financial struggles. Hormonal drugs. Constant stupid comments from people who don’t understand. There’s something else too.

Women with fertility issues have to track everything – periods, ovulations and appointments. They are often acutely aware of how old their own lost and maybe-babies would have been at any given time, as well as the ongoing sense of loss they experience from not being able to have a baby. Nature has a really cruddy way of timing baby showers in the same month as our due-dates that never were. Your baby shower is two weeks after my due date 2 years ago. I should be bringing my nearly 2 year old with me. See, I told you we track everything.

Do you really want me to explain that I’d be bringing the baggage of my lost child with me to this party? Do I owe you that? Or could you, you know, just be understanding that baby showers might just be a little bit hard for someone that’s been trying to get pregnant for longer than you’ve known your husband?

So that’s my confession, and I’m going to passive-aggressively post it on my wall and hope that you read it. I can’t come to you with my truth, because I’d risk “stressing you out” and “making it all about me” if I did. I can’t just suck it up, because my mental health is too fragile for that right now. So here I am as a woman with fertility struggles, asking for a little understanding from my friends. Can we call a truce? Can we be more honest with each other? Can we accept that pregnancy is wonderful for you but hard for others? As a woman trying so hard for a baby, I live in hope.”

https://bestfertility-now.com/letter-to-my-pregnant-friend-your-happiness-and-my-mental-health-are-not-compatible/?fbclid=IwAR2YARsPG6r_GLntyasTkwhf_fVJ_XTfG6YbMX6BEdpa6BGOlh9jR1EaB5g

[asukaskerian]

I love Days on a Whire so much! It hits all the best tropes and makes all the characters so complex and compelling. I kind of want to ask what would have happened if, completely losing their heads to the heat, Madara and Izuna had managed to knock Tobirama up despite their best efforts. Would there still have been a chance to make peace work, before everyone went mad with baby fever/bloodline theft accusations?

eee #^__^# thank you!

and i... totally came up with a scenario for that one too... no self, you cannot write it, you do not need another endless multipart. no.

anyway here’s some babble. under the cut cause it got long.

(fallout from heat sex, discussion of forced abortion.)

so first, they fuck. Izuna is trying to hold back but he has wanted tobirama for so long and madara pumping out enough pheromones in a small enclosed space to drop a bull does not help. Tobi and madara are straight up gone.

so by the time they come down from it, it’s like ten AM and they have about thirty uchihas milling around outside the nest, plus like several elders.

thing is, the hormonal need to fuck might be gone but now it’s time for hormonal “yay new mate i like and trust you so much our babies will be so pretty”. they’re smart enough to know it’s heat-induced and will fade with time but that doesn’t mean the feelings themselves feel fake. so as they slowly come to terms with the scope of the clusterfuck this is, they start by detaching from each other but the distress scent is Not Fun so there is still some “it’s not like i’m enjoying touching you but you’ll take your ankle out of my hand only if you cut it off at the wrist first. it’s uh, so you don’t escape. yeah.”

madara very somberly promising tobi he’ll be treated as fairly and safely as madara can order done so PLEASE don’t kill your way through my men, izuna electrifyingly torn between “cannot trust a single word you say and definitely cannot trust you with my people” and “if any of them looks at you twice i will remove their eyeballs with a spoon” because, he remembers the rape threats, and if anything in that vein is even mentioned he will not handle it well.

tobirama doesn’t talk much, just agrees quietly to be taken back to the uchiha compound and send a message to hashirama later on.

it is Tense and there’s lots of elders yelling at home and tripling the number of patrols to brace for the senju coming en masse to rescue him. madara and izuna refuse to lock him up in an isolated cell because they need him in sight and they’re the only ones good enough to safely guard him, and anyway the main family’s house is lousy with safety seals and... and yeah no, putting him in one of their bedrooms would be Too Much, so he gets to be imprisoned in some hastily emptied and re-sealed other room. it’s a windowless box but it has a fire pit that can be repurposed as a nesting area so why not.

it takes about three very stubborn hours that night before izuna marches back in with an armful of blankets and pillows, daring tobi to say a damn thing about it. tobi was feeling very isolated and was not sleeping so he doesn’t snark, for once. anyway izuna and madara spend the night in that room, alternating sitting up to keep watch and nesting down with him. but not quite touching.

the next morning there’s very terse “i acknowledge that your scent is changing and this means you’re potentially pregnant even though so early in a pregnancy that might not last” and “i’m writing hashirama eventually (firm promise!) but only after the council has agreed on proceedings so we need to also talk between us”

izuna does not understand why tobirama is even still here. is it a trap? it hurts to think it’s a trap but what else can it be. madara reluctantly agrees that it’s very odd he didn’t try to at least signal his brother for help or anything. because so long as hashirama doesn’t know where he is then anything can be done to him with zero accountability.

tobirama walks them very exhaustedly through what would happen if he went back home. 1) bloodline theft means they’re right back to a war of eradication. dozens of his kinsmen will die. 2) going back to be safe but promising on his honor he’s taken abortifacent drugs and there’s not going to be babies would never be believed. he can totally genjutsu up a flat belly for seven months and everybody knows it. it’s meaningless. 

so if he stays they might kill him just to be sure. (which is not something he’s gonna take lying down, he doesn’t say, but they all knows that.) but if all that’s asked of him is to stay locked up while they make him drink the baby-b-gone potion and keep him a week to make sure all is clear before proceeding to whatever diplomatic trade they must... or even trying to lock him up Forever? at this point he can escape cleanly and they’ll be pissed off but not Pissed Off and he’ll have avoided total war.

anyway the uchiha clan needs to be certain there is zero possibility of bloodline theft, or else it’s gonna be hideously horrible AND all the neighbors with a bloodline will turn on the senju too. so yes, he’s staying. for now.

izuna and madara of course agree that there can be no babies and never could have been any babies but. ow.

izuna is very “..oh ._.” over figuring out that tobirama is okay with risking his life to keep the conflict down, he kinda thought he was the type of guy to fuck off right home and be like “sweet, free reign to massacre any uchihas i come across now that my brother can’t tell me it’s overkill”. he can’t help but admire the guts and selflessness a little.

tobirama: ... also what do i tell them when they ask why nobody’s got eyes like theirs except for the enemy. and raising them alone at the edge of the clan is not... *yeah said too much, locks up again*

madara: hashirama would not let you do it alone though :(

tobi, frustrated at their obtuseness: that’s why i’d have to take them and go. how do you think it would go the first time he caught someone treating them like distasteful mistakes only good for their potential as weapons against you? the blow-up would ruin his standing. i can’t allow that. *a moment of unhappy silence* ... i’d manage fine. it can’t be that difficult.

anyway when they leave to talk to the council izuna and madara are very unhappy. both “oh no he’d be such a good clan matriarch” “except for the part where we’re enemies and none of our clan would like that yeah okay” plus izuna is aughghhg trying to tell himself tobi’s manipulating them by making himself look all noble and stuff but Oh No His Heart and madara dislikes ruining a respectable opponent and does not enjoy thinking that he and hashirama could be brothers-in-law and there could be adorable babies with crazy strong chakra if only both clans would stop massacring each other but if they were born now people would be insulting to them and see them as despicable inferior bastards. even though objectively there’s no way they wouldn’t be handsome and powerful and smart.

(he would forbid bowlcuts though. on principle.) (oh fuck he’s starting to visualize the babies.)

as expected, the council meeting is a shitshow.

it takes a week before madara manages to force in that he is TELLING hashirama they have his brother and why and inviting the senju into the discussion on what should be done, and in the meantime nobody has even given tobirama any baby-be-gone because madara can trust nobody to administer it without any extra poison or at stupid “just to be sure” dosages. it does not help the hormonal imprinting. they’ve tried not to sleep in his nest, just beside his nest but the room is not big and. hghghghfgh.

anyway madara catches tobirama having a Moment over losing his babies (which are at this point not even a certainty and still well into the spontaneous abortion stage of pregnancy) and cannot help awkwardly petting his hair or something. and then tobirama angrily starts ranting over how he does not want babies, he’s not at any stage of life appropriate for babies, they would have a shit life at his place and if they stayed with the uchihas he couldn’t even check on them so make sure they were doing well and he would go crazy not being allowed to live with them but he would go crazy being forced to leave his clan to be a fucking war prize of a breeding bitch and anyway he doesn’t even know anything about all the things that can go wrong with a sharingan or how to use it so he couldn’t even teach them properly and. and, fuck this.

madara pets him and doesn’t say anything. izuna pretends he wasn’t listening through the door.

when the reply from hashirama comes it is very not super happy. he and madara meet in secret and hashirama really wants to demand his brother back but knows just as well how badly that would go.

he says if he thought tobi would be treated fairly and eventually welcomed he would offer a marriage, but considering what madara is telling him about the threats of rape and forcible breeding they are not where he can feel alright letting his brother live at the uchiha compound with no way out.

but also if he loses the pregnancy it’s extremely likely the best exchange they get will be tobirama alive but with his tendons cut, or otherwise too maimed to return to ninja life. it’s vanishingly unlikely the uchiha council would accept any monetary recompense for freeing the most lethal of all Senju to go right back to killing them.

they go back home to think on it some more.

meanwhile izuna has been guarding a morose and very quiet tobirama and hated it so much he provoked him into a verbal fight. probably pulled out some really cruel shit to make him react because fatalistic is not something he likes seeing on tobi’s face but he hates that he even gives a fuck. anyway it goes mean, but then it goes into kissing and probably some frantic bitey sex.

madara comes home and they’re still half-naked and lying together, even though the afterglow was over a while ago. they just... don’t want to separate. not yet.

madara like: ..................... you didn’t.

he’s super angry at them but mostly izuna because what the fuck are you doing, getting more attached. tobirama manages to derail him asking about hashirama, which, he didn’t tell tobi he was meeting hashi but tobi’s got a nose thanks.

anyway izuna is exiled from the room that night. madara sits in his usual place to stand guard but tobirama doesn’t fall asleep. just kinda... very unhappy and his omega being unhappy is obviously a failure and it’s hard to handle.

so they talk about shogi. philosophy. whatever. distractions. eventually tobi sleeps and madara managed not to get any more personal, good job.

... so then he ruminates all of the rest of the night. next morning council members show up as a stone-faced group to deliver the baby-b-gone, intending to sit and watch tobirama down it, like some hybrid tea ceremony/execution.

Tobi takes his place on the cushion madara (very stone-faced because he does NOT like being gotten around like that) signaled izuna to give him, takes the cup of tea with an absolutely frozen face, and madara is like.

would you sign a contract to be our concubine, to legitimize them.

everyone: o_o

madara: filed at the daimyo’s court and sent to every other clan out there so it’s triple binding and you can’t run away with our heirs, of course.

everyone: O.O ?? and izuna 0_0!!

madara: and while you would spend the last two months here, with a few senju assistants, you’d be allowed to spend the earlier months of your pregnancy at the senju compound, provided they also host a squad of uchiha soldiers and handmaids/midwives to ensure the safety and health of our heirs. (That part is absolutely non-negotiable.)

everyone: !!! DDDDDD:<

izuna: ;___; ??? ;;____;; ??????

tobi: o___o what... the entire fuck...

madara: *sips his own tea* U.U

tobi: ... this is a way to force us all to get desensitized to each other and have peace isn‘t it

madara: >:3c

anyway it’s CHAOS but eventually they manage to chase out the council people and retire for the night. izuna ends up in tobi’s nest wrapped around his back, still looking kind of shell-shocked. tobirama stares at madara like he’s trying to read his mind. madara is smug as fuck. but he won’t get into his nest if he’s not invited, he’s not rude.

tobi: how do you plan to handle... after they’re born.

madara: cease-fire as long as they’re not weaned. they stay at the uchiha compound always. you can choose wet nurses and a guard squad from either clan for when you have to go back and forth, plus if there’s more than three babes it’ll be hard on us without any outside help anyway. by the time they’re two or three people will be used to the détente and we can shoot for something more permanent.

tobi: ... and they’ll... really be your heirs.

madara: if they’re legally recognized firstborns then why would they not? the sharingan is dominant. i admit it might be weird to have uchihas with white hair, but we’ve got some light brown and reddish brown in the lower houses already anyway...

tobi, still reeling but starting to want to laugh a bit: oh, chimerism runs in my fathers’ line, so they might only have it partly white. (izuna, dazed: Piebald uchihas.) what do we do if they have the mokuton?

madara: .. that... is another clusterfuck let’s not borrow trouble from the nearest kami with a grudge, we have upset enough shrines this month.

izuna meanwhile is still plastered against tobi’s back and totally not fighting tears or anything. he gets to... keep tobi? kind of. keep him around, not caged but. around and. hhhhh. !!?!?. babies. extremely superior babies. more family.

tobi: ... and will you want to keep access to me as... ah... your concubine.

madara: *blink* oh huh. i understand that you won’t want to be forced to, ah, share your bed with us, but it’s probably not going to be added in the contract that you have to provide us with another set of heirs, since the council is going to be raging to get us married to a full-blood uchiha set and have some pure-blooded surety heirs, but considering that would endanger our firstborns in case some extremists decide to take it into their own hands--

tobi, now officially laughing at him: madara, what i meant is: i can’t get any more pregnant than i am now. Do you want to fuck?

madara: ... #o_o#

(madara does want to fuck.)

[sisterspooky1013]

Perfect Opposites, chapter three

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: General audiences

Tagging @today-in-fic

Read the first two chapters here on A03

The first clue was the need to pee constantly. On a drive out to Massachusetts, I’d had to ask Harry to stop every 45 minutes and he was openly irritated, lecturing me for drinking too much coffee. That night we were making love and when he squeezed my breast I shrieked with how much it hurt. That wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t say anything to Harry because I didn’t want to worry him, but when I tried to recall my last period I realized it was at least two months ago. To say I was scared was an understatement; I was petrified. For three years we’d kept things under wraps, no one the wiser that we were more than just coworkers, but you couldn’t hide a pregnancy. And back then, there was still a lot of stigma about unwed mothers. Walking around the Hoover building with a big belly and no ring was sure to ruin my career prospects, even if we managed to avoid anyone finding out that Harry was the father.

I had a friend, someone I trusted, who worked in the lab, and I asked them to run a pregnancy test for me. It took a couple days before they could sneak it in among other work but the result was positive. Very, very positive. HCG levels that suggested I was close to 10 weeks along. I had a pit in my stomach all day thinking about telling Harry. He was going to be mad, maybe even tell me to get rid of it. And I knew that would be the best thing to do, for our careers, but there was a part of me that wanted this baby. Maybe he would have Harry’s blue eyes and my dark hair. Maybe she would be tall and slender like him with my wavy curls. Harry and I had long since confessed that we were wildly in love, and having a baby, his baby, felt like the ultimate expression of that love. What if he made me choose, him or the baby? I don’t know if the vomiting that occurred directly after that thought was due to nausea or the idea of losing Harry or our baby.

He knew something was wrong, of course. He could read me like a book, saw my pensive expression and heard the deep breaths pushed through my nose as I begged my stomach to calm. He asked me several times that day if I was okay, and I told him I was feeling a little sick and wanted to go home. The way he looked at me, I was sure he could tell. He could see inside by body somehow, see the little life forming in my belly. I listened as he called AD Kirkbride and told him that I was very sick and he needed to drive me home, that we’d both be out the rest of the day. He didn’t say anything as we walked out to his car, drove the 35 minutes to my apartment, walked inside. He must know, must have wanted to get me someplace private so he could tell me that I needed to have an abortion, that there was no space in this twisted life we’d built for a baby. I knew I’d have to tell him no, I couldn’t do it. I wanted this baby. I wanted HIS baby. I knew I was about to lose him.

I sat on the couch and he kneeled on the floor in front of me, his hands resting gently on my knees.

“What is it, Bunny? What’s wrong?” My heart lurched hearing him use his private pet name for me. Would this be the last time I’d hear it?

“I-” the words got caught as a wave of nausea hit me. I pushed him aside and ran into the bathroom, dry heaving painfully. His hand was on my lower back, rubbing small circles as he brushed my hair away from my face with the other. When it passed, I sat back against the wall, tears running down my cheeks quietly. When I looked at his face, his blue eyes were so full of worry and fear, and so much love.

“Are you sick, Bunny? Really sick?”

“I-. I’m pregnant.” It came out in a barely audible whisper, as the unspeakable tends to. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see his reaction. I didn’t want to have a visual memory of the moment I lost him.

He was quiet. So incredibly quiet. He didn’t yell, didn’t question. His hand on my leg was the only sign he still existed. Finally I opened my eyes and saw a face so beautiful that I’m forever grateful that I looked. His eyes were soft and wet, his lips parted and the corners betraying a tiny smile. His expression was so rapturously happy, so deliriously overjoyed, and I felt the weight that had settled on my shoulders take flight, releasing me from the prison of doubt.

“Bunny, we’re gonna have a baby?” His whispered question was paired with a single tear breaking loose, traveling down to wrap around his square jaw where I wiped it away with my thumb as I nodded.

“Oh my god” he breathed, and pulled me to him, burying his face his my neck. He squeezed me so tight, and I knew in that moment that he wasn’t going anywhere. We sat on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet that was stained with my bile, and cried the happiest tears. Finally he pulled away and his expression became solemn, serious.

“We should get married” he said, with so much conviction.

“What? Harry, we can’t get married. We can’t even-how are we going to have a baby? They’ll know, it’s not allowed, I-”

“We’ll tell them, then. It was going to happen eventually. I know they’ll split us up, but even if we don’t work together, we can be together every day. We can be married, we can have our baby. We can have a real life together, Bunny. You and me, and our baby. I love you so much, I want this. I want you.”

I don’t know how early pregnancy hormones can make you emotional, but I cried more that day than I ever had in my life. The next time I cried that way would be the day Harry died.

The next day we went together to tell AD Kirkbride. We were both shocked that instead of anger, surprise or disgust, he smiled and shook his head, saying “about damn time.” He called over to the VCU right away and secured Harry a spot there, filed the paperwork that officially ended our partnership with the FBI, and said he expected an invitation to our wedding.

Our life was far from perfect. We fought, we struggled to keep up with work and two small children, Harry was injured in the line of duty and I almost lost him. Then I did lose him, forever. I’ve missed him every single day, but I wouldn’t change anything about it. Harry didn’t believe in soulmates, but I do, and I know he was mine. As time marches on my aging body continues to fail me, these memories are still as clear as the day they happened. I let them play like a movie in my mind as I sit on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine on my skin. My daughter Trudy comes by the retirement home I live in now a couple times a week and brings me here to get some fresh air, to people watch. The world has changed so drastically in the years since Harry and I fell in love in an endless series of rental cars and hotel rooms, the young lovers sitting at the café across the street now engrossed in cell phones instead of newspapers, the year 2020 looming only a couple trips around the sun away. I feel content that I’ve squeezed all the joy I could out of this life, and I look forward to seeing Harry again soon, in whatever form the afterlife takes.

It’s here, on this sunny park bench, that I see them again. I wasn’t sure it was really them at first, her red hair a bit less vibrant than it once was, his face a little fuller, marked by age but still devastatingly handsome. They’re finding their way to a table, cups of coffee in hand, his familiar touch on her back present as ever. As she turns to sit, I see the swell of her belly and my heart aches with a familiar happiness. They talk and sip their coffee, sitting closer than is necessary, his hand lovingly stroking her belly before he leans in to place a soft kiss on her forehead as she smiles contentedly. I see the sun catch on his wedding band, the longing way she still gazes at his face, even after all these years. I miss Harry so much in this moment, wish I could feel his eyes on me again, so full of love and want. I watch them for a long time, until they stand and walk away hand in hand, marching on towards the rest of what life has to offer. Closing my eyes, I picture Harry’s face that day I told him that Trudy was growing in my own belly, when we had our whole lives ahead of us. I can feel him, pulling me against his body. I feel him now, calling me home to him, to the next chapter of our forever. My body on Earth grows heavy as I rise to meet him in a new embrace, unfettered by the bounds of physics and gravity, free to move through each other and truly become one being. He welcomes me with the cool practicality that made me fall in love with him in the first place; even in the great beyond he is himself, he is my Harry, my perfect opposite reimagined into a celestial wave of pure light.

“I’ve missed you Bunny” he says, but not with words. I hear him with my heart. He envelops me, bringing me into him, and we are together. Always. Forever.

[starbornvalkyrie]

what we could be | part four

A/N: I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to update this one! This part fought me hard, to be honest. It’s a little shorter than the previous parts, but I just had to get past it to move the story along. I’ll leave you with this: things have to get worse before they get better. Enjoy!

warnings: language, smut, alcohol.

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“What did you just say?

He heard a huff on the other end. “I know you’re not that dense, Rowan,” she growled, “You know exactly what I said.”

“But… but…” he stammered. So unlike him. “But how?”

“How? Hm, well, when a man and a woman both consent to it, they get naked, then the man takes his dick and--”

Rowan snapped. “Aelin, shut the fuck up, I’m not an idiot.”

“Coulda fooled me,” she mumbled, and Rowan let out a sigh.

“You’re pregnant.”

“About nine weeks, yes.”

Rowan paused. “And it’s mine?”

Aelin barked a laugh with no humor behind it. “Unless you’re also accusing me of cheating, then yes, it’s yours.”

“I’m just trying to make sense of it all,” he retorted. Rowan’s head is spinning. It feels strange, not being able to control his emotions. He wants to suggest they start the conversation over, a little more calmly.

But of course, it’s Aelin. She’s a firecracker on a good day, and he had to assume she hadn’t had a good day in a long, long while. “What is there to make sense of? We fucked, you didn’t pull out, and now I have another life form growing in my stomach.”

He was about to correct her on the location of the baby when his brain caught onto her tone. “Hold on. Are you… mad at me?” he asked, rubbing his temples to chase away the impending headache that was forming. 

“Yes! No… agh, I don’t know! Damn hormones…” She said that last part more to herself than to him, and he was starting to soften up to her mixed feelings when she yelled, “You got me pregnant!”

“Well, it takes two to tango, Aelin!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Gah, Aelin!” 

“Rowan!” She screamed so loudly, Rowan could have sworn he felt the sonic boom from across the ocean.

He had to remember who he was talking to, had to think about what she’s going through. As calmly as he could, though there was still a slight bite to his words, he said, “I think… I think I need some time to process this. Can I call you later?”

There was a pause so long that Rowan had to check to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. After a minute, he heard her take a deep breath, something he knew she did whenever she was trying to prevent herself from saying something stupid. Or mean. Or all of the above.

“Later… Got it. Bye, Rowan.” And she hung up. Rowan wasn’t sure how long he stood there with his phone still to his ear, but he pulled it away and stared at it, willing all the answers he wished he knew to appear from out of nowhere. When did he even stand up?

Aelin is pregnant.

Aelin is pregnant with his child.

From the sounds of it, she’s going to keep it. Gods, they hadn’t even gotten that far in the conversation.

Aelin is pregnant.

Rowan is going to be a father.

He thinks he’s going to be sick.

Deep breaths, Rowan.

Rowan waited until he was sure he wasn’t going to lose the sandwich he ate on the way home, then left to find Fenrys.

Fenrys will either know what to say or sit with him while he drowns himself in liquor. Either way, Rowan just needs his friend.

Rowan ran from his housing to Fenrys’ classroom on Mistward’s campus and got there just in time to see him flirting with one of his classmates.

“Moonbeam.”

Fenrys looked up at him and grinned. Rowan wasn't sure what his own face looked like, but he could see concern flash through Fenrys’ eyes. 

“Hey, Whitethorn, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Fenrys clapped Rowan on the shoulder, trying to lighten his mood.

“Aelin is pregnant.” Fenrys’ smile faltered, his grip tightened ever so slightly. He looked over his shoulder to tell his classmate he’ll catch up with her later then guided Rowan towards the edge of campus where the bars are. Rowan had never felt more grateful to have a friend like Fenrys.

They made their way to the hole-in-the-wall tavern they found their first week in Wendlyn. The bar food is subpar, but they have a top notch selection of beers on tap. Rowan, however, went straight for three shots of tequila then an old-fashioned to sip. Mixing tequila and whiskey at three in the afternoon probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Rowan didn’t feel like being smart.

Fenrys waited until Rowan ordered his second old-fashioned before speaking. “So… Aelin is pregnant.” It wasn’t a question, but Rowan nodded. “Wow. Okay, um, how do you feel about that?”

Rowan took a long sip of his drink before answering. “I don’t know man, I haven’t really given myself time to process it. She called to tell me, we fought, we hung up. And now I’m here,” he lifted his glass. Drink. “Gods, I’m also pretty sure we broke up before I left for the program here.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘pretty sure’? Are you together or not? And what on earth did you have to fight about?” Rowan drank for every question Fenrys asked, finishing the glass. His brain was finally getting muddled, his racing thoughts becoming an ugly, incoherent blur. He signaled for another drink. 

“I don't know, man. We fought before I left, and I told her we’d talk when I got back to Terrasen. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.” Rowan thought drinking with Fenrys would help him, but it actually might be pissing him off instead.

Before Fenrys could pester him some more, he tossed back the old-fashioned in one go, and stood up on shaky legs to leave. “Hey, let me help you get back, dude.”

“No, thanks, you’ve helped enough.” A hurt look flickered across Fenrys’ face, and Rowan felt guilty for a moment. It wasn’t his fault Rowan was in a shit mood, but he couldn’t do anything about it in this state. He made a mental note that he hoped he’ll remember to apologize and have an alcohol-free conversation with him later.

The walk back to his housing was a blur. Rowan had to stop multiple times to settle his stomach, but luckily he made it back without ruining the pristine Wendlyn sidewalks with his vomit. He had hardly sobered by the time he found his building.

Rowan’s feet took him in the opposite direction of his room, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t care to. Next thing he knew, Remelle opened the door to his incessant knocking for the second time that day. She looked like she was about to yell at him again, so Rowan grabbed the back of her head with one hand and her waist with the other and crashed his lips to hers. She didn’t protest.

He pushed her back into her room and slammed the door behind him. He led her towards her bed, clothes flying along the way. When she laid back against her pillows and spread her legs, he didn’t hesitate to climb on top of her and enter her roughly. There was no passion in their coupling, only the urge to release, to forget.

They stayed in bed through dinner, alternating between laying there, panting, and fucking each others’ brains out. It wasn’t until Rowan slid into Remelle for the third time that night that he let himself realize what he was doing--let himself realize that even though he was in bed with Remelle, he was imagining he was with a different blonde across the sea.

He pulled out of her abruptly, much to her dismay, and gathered his clothes. Not bothering to don his shirt, he ran back to his room.

In the privacy of his own quarters, in the silence with his thoughts, Rowan allowed himself to cry.

---

After Aelin’s conversation--if she could even call it that--with Rowan yesterday morning, she thought she’d panic. But instead, she felt hollow, alone. She didn’t know what she was supposed to expect. Whatever it was, it wasn’t that.

She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, only getting up when Lysandra forced her to eat something and to take a bath where she stayed for two hours.

She’d wished that her mother was there to tell her what to do next, but then she cried thinking that her parents would never meet their grandchild. Her baby would only know about Evalin and Rhoe through stories, her memories. She’d always thought that if she did one day find herself pregnant, she’d have her mother there to guide her.

But her mother was dead, Rowan couldn’t even speak to her, and Aelin was alone.

Eventually, Lysandra got sick of Aelin’s wallowing, no matter how supportive she was trying to be. Aelin thanked the gods for keeping Lysandra with her. When they had dinner last night, Lysandra suggested she needed to go out and do something to distract herself from the pit Rowan left in her heart.

At the same exact moment, she’d received a text from Chaol asking if she was feeling better.

Lysandra took that as a sign and urged her to reach out and reschedule their coffee date.

So here she was, sitting at a table in UT’s campus coffee shop. Aelin sipped on her lemon-ginger tea--not her favorite, but it helped her stomach--as she waited for Chaol to get out of his class. She couldn’t stop checking her phone for any messages from Rowan, but there were none. Even a quick Instagram search revealed he hadn’t been active since yesterday morning. With a sigh, she silenced her phone and put it in her purse.

After a few minutes of people watching through the window, she spotted Chaol’s tall figure coming from the chemistry building. Aelin waved at him as he entered and watched as he went to order before joining her.

“Aelin! I’m so glad we could meet. You’re feeling better?” He sat down across the table from her, but the table was small and his legs were so long, his knee brushed hers. The subtle touch made her blush, and she tried to keep the color at bay.

She smiled at him. “A little. Enough to be out and about, not enough to scarf down a whole chocolate cake no matter how badly I wanted to.” He laughed and the sound made her heart flip. Damn pregnancy hormones.

“Well, when you feel like you can eat again, I’ll gladly buy one for you.” He moved to grab something from his backpack-- a stack of papers. “I know this is the last thing you’d want to think about right now, but before I forget, these are the notes and everything from the lectures you missed. You still have to make up a lab, but the professor said you have until the end of next week.”

Aelin took the papers and thanked him. She suddenly felt guilty for how sweet he was being to her without knowing the extent of the situation she’s found herself in. She likes Chaol a lot and didn’t feel that it was fair to string him along.

“Can I actually--”

“So, Aelin--” They both spoke then broke off at the same time, chuckling at their synchronicity. “You can go first,” he said.

She released a steadying breath through her nose. “Okay, there was a reason I wanted to meet with you today. I have something to tell you, but I’m not entirely sure how you’ll react.”

“It’s alright, Aelin. You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” Too sweet. Too damn sweet, this guy.

“Okay,” she repeated. “I- I’m pregnant.”

Aelin watched Chaol as he processed the bomb she just dropped. She noticed his eyes widen ever so slightly, his mouth gaped open. After a few agonizing moments, he shook his head to clear the daze. He was about to reply when the barista called his name to pick up his order. 

With an apologetic glance, Chaol stepped away. Aelin closed her eyes, mourning whatever could have happened between the two of them. She opened them when she heard Chaol take his seat across from her once more.

“So, you’re pregnant.”

“I am.”

“And I’m assuming… Rowan is the father.” She nodded apprehensively, knowing his acquaintanceship with Rowan was tense, at best. The two men never clicked. They had only met once last semester when Aelin and Chaol had to work late for an inorganic chemistry lab, and whatever vibes they gave each other were not pleasant. Ever since, she tried to avoid the two of them ever crossing paths again, though Rowan frequently expressed his displeasure whenever she brought up their work in the lab.

“Wow. How are you really feeling then? You’ve been having morning sickness, I take it?” Aelin tried not to show how shocked she was by the genuine concern and automatic acceptance in his voice. Why couldn’t this have been Rowan’s reaction?

Nonetheless, she nodded. “It actually hit me for the first time when we originally planned our coffee date. I went straight to Lysandra’s house to take a test and had it confirmed at the doctor at the end of the week. I think I’m still processing it all, actually.” 

“That’s understandable, Aelin, this is huge. And Rowan, does he know? He’s studying abroad in Wendlyn this semester, right?”

Aelin let out a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah. He knows. Not that he cares.”

Chaol narrowed his eyes, likely figuring out how their conversation had gone, but he didn’t pry for more details. Aelin was grateful for that. Grateful for him. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, Aelin. I get it if you’re not looking to date anyone while you figure this out with Rowan, but I still want to be around you.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I like you a lot, I have for a while now, in all honesty, but a friendship with you is better than nothing.”

Aelin stared at their joined hands, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you, Chaol. Your support means more than you know.”

He leaned across the table to kiss her on the cheek, and Aelin couldn’t stop her blush this time. They steered the conversation to other topics, talking endlessly about everything they could think of.

Though Aelin was sad at the thought of what could have been, she felt hope reignite in her chest.

---

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[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Six - To Wish Impossible Things

It was the sweetness of your skin

It was the hope of all we might have been

That fills me with the hope to wish

Impossible things

The Cure - To Wish Impossible Things

It was a sunny Saturday morning, filled with sunshine and countless aromas coming from restaurants and food stands. Victor and I were visiting the bookshops in the old part of town, browsing for childcare books. Later that afternoon, we would be attending Diane’s baby shower, and despite already having bought a designer diaper bag as a gift, my mom had recommended some books that she swore would be helpful for the mother to be. And as a good friend, I would make sure Diane would get them.

I wish I could say that I was taking Diane’s pregnancy like a normal healthy person, but I knew I wasn’t. Being recently married, and knowing that I could never give Victor the child I was sure he wanted soured my soul, and all I could feel was jealousy and regret. I was happy for her, I really was. But I couldn’t help but also feel angry at the fact that this moment would never come for me, and mostly because of a lousy choice. Ten minutes was all it took to change my life forever, I concluded, as I let myself dive into a painful memory.

It was late in the afternoon when I called my mother on that nightmarish day, and even later when I went home to pack and go to my mother’s house. I had decided to leave Daniel for good, because of the child that I thought I was carrying. I wouldn’t allow him to beat me again, to reduce me to the nothingness he wanted me to be. Despite feeling incredibly weak and hopeless, I would choose strength for someone who couldn’t have it on his own, my unborn child.

However, after everything was packed, just when I was getting ready to leave, something came to mind. Bad person or not, Daniel was still the father of my child. It wasn’t right to just leave and take his child with me, without a single word. I took a pad and a pen and started writing him a goodbye letter, where I stated my reasons for leaving, and how he was still welcome in our child’s life, provided that he would follow some rules. Those ten minutes I spent carefully choosing my words and writing them down, that show of respect and kindheartedness, was the sealer of my fate. As I was getting up from our dining table, leaving the letter behind, the lock on the door turned, signaling Daniel was home.

“Is this the one you were looking for?” Victor questioned, showing me a book. I blinked at it, jarred with the sudden jump to present reality. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, that’s the one I couldn’t find.” I smiled weakly at my worried husband. “Come, let’s pay for it, I want to go get lunch.”

“Where do you want to have lunch?” Victor held my hand as we left the bookstore. “We could get some takeout sushi at that place you like.”

“You don’t care for sushi.” I smiled at him. “We can cook at home or take something else instead.”

“Alright.” Victor wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Takeout sushi it is.” He gave me a sweet look.

It was evident that Victor knew what was going on with me, and since he was never good at talking about feelings, he tried to help me the way he knew how, by acts of service. His way to show me he loved me was to always make sure I was taken care of, and pampered in ways I never deemed possible. That entailed eating sushi he didn’t really care about, taking a morning stroll through stores when he could be playing tennis, and going to baby showers when he could just make an excuse and spend his afternoon watching one of his old movies or reading.

Back at home, we happily ate our sushi, Victor unusually doing most of the talking, trying to distract me. I listened to him intently, but couldn’t find any words to say. We hadn’t gone to the baby shower yet, and I was already exhausted.

“We don’t need to go if you don’t want to.” He broke through our shared pretense that everything was fine. “I can call Goldman right away and make an excuse.”

“I want to go.” I lied. “This is important to Diane, she wants me there.”

“Andy…”

“Will you clean up the table while I go wrap the books?” I changed the subject. “Diane will get mad if we show up late.”

I went to the office, looking for the gift bag I had bought for the books. As I was wrapping them in pink satin paper, one of them fell on the floor, open. It showed the picture of a mother breastfeeding her baby. I picked the book up, noticing the article about the benefits of breastfeeding and naming some curiosities about it, like, how the taste of the milk would change according to what the mother eats, which helps the baby starting to get acquainted to new flavors, even before getting other foods. Or how the milk adapts to the needs of the infant, some studies indicating that the milk carries more antibodies and white blood cells if the baby is sick, and more serotonin by the end of the day, to help the baby sleep better.

I was marveled at how a woman’s body was so perfectly designed to take care of a baby, chemistry and hormones and instinct creating the perfect caretaker, so all the baby’s needs are met. Being a mother, being able to create and nurture life was one of the things I liked the most about being a woman. It was miraculous. I was so distracted reading that book, venturing in all the facts that composed motherhood, that I didn’t even notice Victor leaning on the doorframe, watching me.

“Are you ready?” He was watching me closely, his gaze sweet and with a hint of worry.

I immediately closed the book, wrapping it quickly before inserting it in the gift bag.

“Yes, let’s go.” I grabbed the gift bag, bolting to the door.

Our trip to Goldman’s house was silent, Victor and I both lost in thought. When he finished parking the car, he turned to me.

“We don’t have to stay here all afternoon.” He offered, taking my hand. “I can give some excuse so we leave early.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to be that petty person who couldn’t be happy for her friend because she couldn’t have kids. And I didn’t want people to worry about me. I was a full-grown woman, I would be fine. Sometimes some things hurt, and that’s life. I just had to toughen up.

Goldman and Diane’s house was a big cloud of pink, with pink balloons, and diapers, and storks everywhere. The house was already full of people when we arrived, some from LFG, some being Diane’s and Goldman’s family members. Diane approached me with a big smile, her baby bump bigger than it was last time I saw her, a few weeks ago.

“Our favorite couple!” She hugged us both, Goldman coming right after to greet us. “Welcome! Make yourselves at home, we have plenty of food! Henry, get our CEO a drink! Andy, do you want anything?”

“Wanting to get me drunk already? Isn’t that how you made that child?” I teased, showing her my big bag with my gifts. “Here. To spoil the mom-to-be.”

“Thank you so much! It means so much to me that you guys are here!” Diane gave me a tight hug. And it looked like someone else wanted to join the party.

“I think Penny kicked me!” I smiled, charmed with her belly. “Can I touch it?”

“Of course!” Diane smiled. “She’s been excited all day, it’s like she knows there will be a party!”

“Or maybe it’s because of all the sugar you’ve been having.” Goldman offered.

I touched Diane’s pregnant belly with careful hands. Inside, there was a human being, sweet Penny, waiting to be big enough to come to this world. And she was indeed excited, jumping inside the womb, trying to poke my hands.

My husband was by my side, holding my waist lovingly, trained eyes on my hands, smiling sweetly. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was picturing that my hands were his, and Diane’s pregnant belly was mine. I felt tears coming, so I swiftly brushed the thought aside. The doorbell rang, diverting the attention from me, Diane busying herself with other guests.

“There are pink margaritas in the kitchen. Go help yourselves.”

As expected, the entire afternoon was baby-themed, from diaper changing races and sharing labor stories to the opening of gifts, and bestowing of best wishes to unborn Penny. Although I did try to have fun and relax, each activity only reminded me of what I couldn’t have, and I began to feel increasingly worse about myself. I was a bottomless pit of sadness and self-loathing: not only was I miserable because all those things were impossible for me, I felt bad for feeling that way, and not being able to fully enjoy this very important moment in my friends lives. I was a shitty person, and probably deserved everything bad that came my way.

To make matters worse, I could feel my husband’s eyes on the back of my neck, searching for any sign of distress on my part, ready to jump and act if necessary. Although I loved him to pieces for that, I was growing a little uneasy with it. If Victor was protective before, the marriage just magnified it even more. There was a part of him that was sweeter, more relaxed and open, but there was also another part of him that was borderline domineering, always wanting to know where I was, always scared to leave me to my own devices. And this time, although I knew I could count on him, although I knew he would always stand by me, I wanted to be left alone, and keep this ugliness of mine just to myself.

But this was Victor, and he was one of the most observant people I had ever met, especially if he was worried about something. After a while, he was by my side, checking up on me.

“Would you like to leave?” His hand rested lovingly on my shoulder.

I have to admit having him care for me felt good. Yes, I was admittedly a hypocrite.

I nodded, too emotionally tired to talk. Victor took my hand, pulling me from my seat.

“We should get going.” Victor apologized to Diane. “My aunt had a situation at the ranch, she needs our help.”

Despite what I predicted, knowing Diane Goldman AKA Momzilla, in less than five minutes and with only a few sentences, we were in the car, driving home. After a moment, Victor broke the silence.

“I don’t understand the need to share labor stories.” He commented, disgusted. “If anything, those should be cautionary tales, not things to share willingly at a party. I do not need to know how many stitches one can get in her… You know.” He shuddered.

Even with a heavy heart, I had to laugh at his honesty.

“That older woman was saying she broke two of her husband’s fingers while he was holding her hand.” He continued. “Everybody laughed. How on earth is that funny?”

“Imagine the birth announcement: Johnny Boy was born on day x, weighting y kilograms. Mother and baby are ok, father is severely injured.” I joked, making us both laugh.

“The whole thing was a parade of reasons not to have a baby.” Victor declared, looking shocked. “Parents not being able to have a full night’s sleep for years . Clothes being belched and puked on, poop that goes to the baby’s neck, babies peeing and spitting on their parents. How is that cute?”

“Cholics, sudden fevers, tantrums, teething.” I continued. “I remember my mother telling me that Josh and Cristina were on the verge of insanity at one point.”

“The labor itself is a mess. A woman’s vagina stretches to the point of passing a human head through it, tears, gets bloody and infected, and stitched up. Goldman is never having sex again.”

“And even if Diane is in the mood, they won’t have time for it. The baby will need them all the time.” I offered.

“In the meantime, we will be traveling, enjoying life to the fullest, and I’ll be making you scream my name in every penthouse of every luxury hotel in the world. Or in every surface or wall at our apartment. There are a few we haven’t tried yet.”

“You’re keeping count?” I chuckled.

“Who do you take me for?” Victor raised an eyebrow at me. “Of course I am.”

I laughed again.

“You know what, you are right.” I spoke with confidence. “Who says couples should have kids? Our life is pretty amazing. We both love our jobs, we have successful careers, we love each other and have amazing moments together. It’s no use to wish for impossible things. We should be counting our many, many blessings.”

“My point exactly.” Victor smiled.

I was putting the dinner’s dirty dishes in the dishwasher, back at the apartment, when the thought assaulted me again. I remembered Diane’s pregnant belly and Penny jumping inside it, trying to interact with the world outside. I imagined myself bearing that belly, and Victor’s hands caressing it, his eyes bright with joy. I pictured us putting together baby cribs, buying baby clothes, going to ultrasound appointments together. I imagined our faces as we watched our child inside me, playing with the umbilical cord or sucking her thumb. I could imagine Victor having a picture of that ultrasound next to the ones of us together on his desk.

And maybe during labor, I would hold his hand a little too tight, and end up a bloody stitched mess because of it. We would have endless stories of poop and pee, and dark circles under our eyes, but that wouldn’t matter, because every little milestone achieved in our child’s life would be like a Nobel prize to us, documented with the same pride. We would look at our child and find things from both of us, and we would love her for that. She would have Victor’s eyes or raven hair, and I would love her more because she reminded me of the man I loved. And Victor would look at her dark curls or prominent cheekbones and think of me, and he would love her more for that. She would be the testament of our love, the proof that Victor and Andrea Lee stood on this planet, and they loved each other.

Only when I saw my tears staining the black marble counter did I notice I was crying. I was wishing for impossible things, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted a child like I never wanted anything in my life, I couldn’t ignore it. And I wanted to fight for it.

I felt Victor’s arms circle my waist from behind. I turned to face him, my eyes filled with tears. He gave me a knowing look and pressed my face against his chest, silently telling me to cry it all out.

“I’m a hypocrite.” I confessed between sobs. “I do want a baby. I want to be a mother.”

“I know.” He spoke softly, tightening his grip on me, his hand on the back of my neck, caressing my hair.

“I don’t want to give up just yet.” I looked up to him, suddenly feeling steady. “I still have my ovaries, there is a lot that we can still try. Will you try with me?”

I couldn’t quite read his expression as he looked me in the eyes, pondering my question. A moment after he held me tighter again, pressing me against him again.

“Yes.” I heard his low voice rumble in his chest. “I will.”

[pandoraimperatrix]

Four Names for Love

Gotham | BatCat | BabyFic | Multi-chapter | Read on AO3

Summary: When Bruce parted ways with Gotham he was leaving behind more than he thought. Meanwhile Selina is trying to find a way to herself after being abandoned again and on top of that she finds out she was left with a lot more than a heartbreak.

——————————————————————————

Philia part II

‘Wanna a sip?’

Selina took the bottle Nikki was offering. Adding the smell of cheap booze to the list of things that now made her feel sick. She looked at the ring of the bottle, she wanted to drink it, she wanted to feel the burning liquid going down her throat, she wanted it to hurt, she wanted to do something she would regret later.

‘Selina?’ Nikki chuckled. ‘Are you high? You have been frozen like a statue looking at the bottle forever.’

She wanted to be high.

‘You know what? I don’t feel like drinking some lame cheap vodka.’

Nikki eyed her with confusion.

‘Alright…’ She cleaned her throat. ‘So, what you found out about how do we leave?’

Selina sighed.

‘There will be a boat coming in three weeks with more supplies for the construction of the new bridge, it will be in the harbour for a few days, I don’t know how many, we can go back with them. Pay someone to smuggle us in.’

Despite the government sending help, finally, it was still forbidden to leave Gotham, except in very special cases of you being really sick and in need to be transferred for a proper hospital or having a lot of money.

‘Three weeks? Geez, so long.’ Nikki complained. ‘I think we’ll need to be patient, then. Well, more time to think where we should go next.’

‘Look, Nikki, I don’t think-‘

She was interrupted by someone knocking on her door. Nikki and she shared a concerned look. It wasn’t like they were expecting visitors, or that Selina’s address was on the yellow pages.

Selina stood up from the ruined couch, took the knife from her thigh and went to the door.

‘Who is it?’

‘Selina? It’s me, Leslie.’

Selina made a half-confused, half-suspicious face to the door but didn’t open it.

‘What do you want?’

She heard Thompkins sigh from the other side.

‘Selina, please. I want to help.’

‘I don’t need your help. I’m not hurt.’ However, in some ways, that was far from the truth.

‘Selina… I know about the baby.’

‘Baby…?’ She heard Nikki ask confused behind her.

Selina opened the door as fast as she could despite the multiple locks she installed.

‘Get inside! Quick! Geez, are you stupid? Anyone could hear you!’

‘You wouldn’t open otherwise.’

Selina sneered at her.

‘So, Barbara told you. That’s what I get for trusting that nutcase.’

‘She just wanted to help you, Selina.’ Then she noticed Nikki. ‘Hello, I’m Dr Thompkins, you are?’

‘Yeah, I know who the Queen of the Narrows is, alright.’ She said apprehensive, but added later ‘I’m Nikki.’

‘Pleasure, Nikki.’

Feeling terrible uncomfortable by that whole setting, Selina turned to her friend.

‘Can you please leave? No offense, Nikki.’

‘Oh, it’s fine. Congrats… on the baby… I guess.’

Selina didn’t thank her. Her face was livid. Then she was alone with Lee Tompkins.

‘So, Selina. How are you feeling?’

‘How do you think?’ She snapped angrily.

Lee gave Selina that disgusting doe eyed compassionated look of hers.

‘I’m sorry, I know this is hard. I wasn’t a teenager back then, but I went through something like that before. I really came here because Barbara wanted to know if you were okay, and also to let you know you have options.’

‘Options? What are you talking about?’

‘Selina, you are very young. You have no income, this is not a place to raise a baby. If you want, we can arrange for an abortion.’

Selina felt the world side-track, she seriously haven’t thought about that. It was like the whole concept had been completely alien until Lee said those words. Abortion. She didn’t have to go through that. It was so stupid. Of course, the idea of her giving birth to a baby, being a mother, it was ridiculous. How could she thought that was no way out when it was so obvious? And yet…

‘You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it and come to my office then. I’ll go now. Take care.’

ooo

Selina spent the next three days thinking hard about what Leslie told her. It really seem the most obvious thing to do. Just terminate that pregnancy, that mistake, and just go forward with her life, her plans of leaving Gotham, of making something for herself elsewhere.

All her life, her first and most urgent imperative was to survive. That’s why she always had to put herself first, because since her mother dumped her in that orphanage nobody had. A child would change that. A child would have to make her put herself in second place. And experience had been teaching her over and over again why that was a terrible idea.

It was decided. She would have an abortion and everything would be okay. Or least okayer than before.

So why could she even imagine herself doing that? Maybe if it was someone else’s child, maybe if she couldn’t remember clearly how that baby was made and how she felt that night, the warmth of his touch, how sweet it was to have her name in his lips, maybe she would feel different. Maybe she would have no doubt when it would come to make the wisest choice. But it was hers and Bruce’s baby. And no matter how hurt she felt, how angry… She couldn’t do it. How could she? That baby was the only proof she had she was loved once. She couldn’t just make it disappear. And Selina knew that she was being stupid and would make her already shitty life a million times harder but she just couldn’t do it.

That poor kid would have the stupidest homeless teenaged mother.

ooo

Alfred found her in a back alley next to Leslie’s clinic feeding some local strays.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Kyle.’

Selina looked at him like he had said something funny and dumb, but other than that ignored him. Scratching the head of an orange tabby.

‘Nice day, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know what you are trying to pull. But I have no time for it.’

She stood up from her crouching position and was ready to leave when he talked again.

‘Selina, I’m sorry.’

She stopped. He hardly used her first name, and even more rarer than that apologised.

‘It was very unbecoming of me to say those words to you. I know how you and Master Bruce care for each other. And I am grateful for every time you saved his life when I could not be there.’

And maybe it was the stupid hormones but Selina felt a lump in her throat.

Fighting back tears she turned her face to him.

‘She told you, didn’t she? Leslie? Or was it Barbara? That’s why you’re telling me this stuff. God, why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep trusting people that will betray me later? Look, I don’t need your help, or your pity or you money. It is my baby, I’ll take care of it just fine.’

Bruce had told Selina once that Alfred was an actor for a time in his life, and as hilarious and hard to believe it have been back then, she didn’t think even an Oscar winning actor could fake surprise that well.

‘Pardon? What did you just say, Miss?’

She panicked.

‘Just forget it. Apology accepted, let’s never deal with each other ever again.’

She tried to leave again, but he blocked her path.

‘No. You will explain to me what you have just said. Miss Kyle, are you expecting?’

‘I don’t have to tell you anything, Jeeves.’

‘Are you serious? Are you really with child? And it is Master Bruce’s?’

If she thought she was the most annoyed she could be, well, she was wrong.

‘Of course it’s his. What do you take me for? No, scratch that. It’s mine, just mine, Bruce left.’

He didn’t say anything for a while, and Selina thought he was finally letting her go.

‘Miss… I really do not know where he is.’

And maybe was how broken he sounded but Selina felt herself falling in that pit of despair she had crawled out far too recently to go back again.

‘I don’t care.’

‘If you need help, with anything-‘

‘Are you stupid? Or are your hearing already going bad? I don’t want your fucking help, and now get out of my way.’

ooo

But after that conversation Selina would always find food at her door, sometimes her squat was eerie tidier than it was when she left, and even her pile of clothes were now folded in orderly fashion and smelling fresh clean no matter how she avoided laundry day.

She knew what was up. And as nice as it was having someone taking care of her, she really hated that he was just doing it because of the baby in her belly. Also he was invading her privacy, how dare him!

So she went knock at his door.

‘Miss Kyle, what a surprise.’

‘I came here to tell you to stop.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Miss.’

‘Oh please. I’ve already told you. The baby is mine. I don’t care what twisted plan you have, but you won’t be taking him from me.’

‘It is a boy?’

‘I don’t know, Leslie says it’s too soon to tell, but it doesn’t matter. Bruce’s participation was over when he pulled it out.’

Alfred sighed. He wasn’t mad at her vulgarity anymore, but he looked very tired, very sad.

‘Miss, as I told you before, I am sorry for what I said. And no, I did not try to apologise that day because I already knew you were with child. I really did not know. And I would never take a baby from his mother.’

Selina said nothing, he continued.

‘And I was not lying when I said I do not know where Master Bruce is. I have tried the best I could, but he is not using any of his money, none of his numbers are working anymore, my letters returned. I do not even know if he is dead or alive. That boy was my whole life, and now the only thing that might have survived of him is you and the child in your belly.’

Selina felt like her heart was turned to lead, it was so heavy it was hard to breathe. Bruce couldn’t… He couldn’t…

‘So what?’ She managed ‘It doesn’t mean you have any right over us.’

‘I know. But I am begging you, Miss Kyle. Let me help.’ And there was so much despair in his voice, Selina felt sorry for him.

ooo

'So you’re really not coming?’

Nikki pushed a piece of hair the wind had blown to her face, Selina hugged herself to keep warm, it was very cold in the harbour, she was grateful for the new larger jackets that Barbara had given her. She was dumping on Selina a lot of her pregnancy stuff, most of it was useless, why would she wear so many maternity sequin party dresses?

‘Yeah… Sorry about that.’

‘It’s fine I guess. But you are really sure about raising a baby in this place? I mean, it was already a dump before…’

Selina actually laughed at that.

‘I know, right? But, I think it might get better now. So many changes happening. Maybe it was a shitty place for us, but it won’t be for her. And my doctor is here.’

‘It’s a her now?’

‘I don’t know, I keep trying both.’

‘Oh, I know about that.’

They both giggled at the lame joke.

‘Good luck, Nikki.’

‘Thank you. Good luck you too, and the baby. It was nice to meet you again, Selina.’

  ——————————————————————————

We are, finally, about to reach the timeskip. I don’t know you all but I’m ready to have Bruce back, I miss him.

I hope I didn’t give a pro-forced birth vibe in this chapter, I’m veeeery pro-choice, and I tried had to not use problematic language when it came for Selina deciding to keep her baby.

Also, the whole Selina and Alfred dynamic was really tough to write, because as I said before, I don’t enjoy the characterization of Gotham’s Alfred very much. But I hope I made a decent job.

Till next time, don’t forget to wash your hands and tell me what you are thinking of this story.

[dust2dust34]

The Right Tools (Olicity, S7)

Summary: Set during the Happy Months (as I’m calling them). Some fluffy silliness - Oliver and Felicity move her desk into her new office at the cabin. (Prompted by Meg)

(read on AO3)

*

“Let me do it.”

“No, I’ve got it.”

And she did, damn it. She wasn’t going to let this thing win. Not now, not after days of looking for the perfect desk, of waiting for it to be delivered, of spending the last few hours putting it together. She was going to do this. It just… it wasn’t supposed to be this frakking heavy.

Felicity hissed as the edge of the desk bit into her fingers, but she didn’t let go.

Never give up, never surrender.

She curled her fingers, tightened her grip, and shuffled back into the little room that was going to be her office.

Their new cabin wasn’t huge, not that they needed huge. It was more than enough for her and Oliver, with space to expand. They were going to make one of the rooms a nursery for Mia. Oliver already had plans to convert part of the garage into a training space. And then there was the space in the attic that could be converted into a large bedroom.

That would be for William.

Someday.

A familiar pang radiated through her chest. He still wasn’t taking their calls, and every contact she and Oliver tried to make with his grandparents seemed to fall on deaf ears. But they weren’t giving up. Even if it took months, they were going to find a way to bring their son home. Or at the very least remind him that no matter what he had a place with them, and he always would.

The momentum on the desk carrying stopped.

“Oliver, come on,” she urged.

“Felicity.”

“What?” She looked at him where he held the other side of the desk. “Come on.”

“Put it down.”

“No.”

“I can do it myself, you don’t have to-”

“I’ve got it.”

“Felicity.”

“Oh my god, Oliver,” she snapped, finally dropping the desk. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud and she widened her eyes at him incredulously. “What?”

He gently set his end down and… and then he just paused at her outburst. She gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes, waiting. But instead of speaking, he snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together in silent acquiesce.

Felicity rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped right out of her head.

He’d made the mistake once of commenting about pregnancy hormones and she’d almost slapped him silly. Hormones. No, it wasn’t just hormones, damn it. He was being annoying and over-protective and she was sick of it. Her stomach might be getting to the ‘oh hey wow you’re definitely pregnant there, hey, can I touch your stomach’ - that’d been sweet the first time and the first time only - but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lift this stupid desk and get it into her stupid office.

Oliver blinked.

Felicity groaned. “I said that all out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. Too quietly. He put his hands up in supplication and she huffed. Loudly. “You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure nothing happens.”

“It’s a desk.”

“It’s a heavy desk,” Oliver corrected, already moving to shuffle into the small space left between said piece of furniture and the doorjamb. She rolled her eyes again and threw her hands up in the air as he barely made it through. When he reached her, he gently tried to nudge her out of the way, but she batted at his hands. He sighed. “Felicity-”

“This is so dumb-”

“It’s too heavy-”

“You are being such a di-”

“Is it so wrong that I want you to take it-”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Felicity,” he breathed, dragging her name out in exasperation. “Move.”

They stared at each other, Felicity fuming, Oliver steadfast. Neither backed down, not until Felicity finally snapped. “Fine! Fine, you stupid, stubborn man! Do your man thing. Be the man, lift the thing up with all your manness that your pregnant wife just cannot help you with-”

She was pretty sure he tried not to roll his eyes, but he didn’t succeed as he muttered, “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” she said as he lifted her side of the desk.

She was ready to go on a tirade, a huge, vicious, amazing tirade about… about his stupidity and… and other things, but… But then he started moving the desk and… and oh.

A flush worked its way up her chest and neck, flooding her cheeks with warmth as she watched him work. It didn’t take a lot to remind her how gorgeous her husband was. Especially when he did things like this. Felicity swallowed hard. She was positive he was using his attractiveness against her. When she’d accused him of such during a recent argument, he’d told her she was being ridiculous, which she was absolutely not. He was probably doing it right now. Using his hotness as a sexy argument-winning weapon. And she should be mad about that. But also… he was doing sort of fine. He still huffed and puffed - that desk was heavy, and she wanted to throw a good ol’ “A-ha!” at him - but there was muscle. Lots and lots of bulging muscle, all bunched up under his newly-tanned skin and…

Wow, she loved white t-shirts, had she mentioned that before?

He snorted.

Felicity wondered if she was thinking out loud again. Not that it mattered, because he looked really good in white t-shirts, especially when he had to lift heavy furniture.

Or rather, drag it.

“Don’t scratch the floor,” she told him.

“I’m not,” he retorted with a little more bite than she was used to. Okay, maybe it was warranted considering he was covered in sweat and his face was red with exertion.

The muscles on this man.

She pulled herself out of her reverie. Seriously, self, be less of a cliché.

“You will scratch the floor if you don’t lift it, like… Yes, like that, good job.”

He rolled his eyes, but his sense of self-preservation kept him from saying anything.

Felicity watched him slowly scoot it into the corner where they’d decided it would go.

It was going okay. More than okay, actually, not that she would tell him that, but she did feel some of her aggravation bleed away as she watched him shove the desk into place…

And not move his hand fast enough.

Oliver smashed his fingers between the hard edge and the wall.

“Oh, fu…!” he growled, immediately yanking the desk back just enough to rip his hand out of the spot. His skin was already bright red and she could see the groove where the desk had crashed into his digits. “Son of a…”

“I told you!” was the first thing out of her mouth.

Oliver threw her a disbelieving look. “Really?”

“Well, I did,” she replied as he shoved two of his fingers into his mouth to assuage the ache. His face morphed into a mask of pain that had her melting before she knew it was even happening. “Oh okay, come here,” Felicity said, moving towards him. He made a face at her, his lips still wrapped around his fingers before turning away. “Oliver.”

“No, you’re being mean,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I am not,” Felicity replied, grabbing his shoulder and turning him back around to face her. He didn’t fight her and when he was facing her again, he let his hand fall from his mouth, leaving an incredibly pathetic attempt at a sad face in its place. She raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s being mean?”

Oliver scrunched up his nose at her.

“Lemme see,” Felicity said, holding her hand out for his. He plopped it in hers and she examined the damage. The skin was still damp from his mouth, and it was still incredibly sensitive from the hit considering how he whimpered, “Ow,” when she ran the tip of her finger over the spot. “You know, for a guy who’s been shot, and stabbed, and arrowed, and tortured, and… and all sorts of horrible things-”

“I can say with confidence that getting stabbed didn’t hurt nearly this bad,” Oliver interrupted.

“Okay, Mr. Tough Guy,” Felicity murmured, bringing his hand up to her lips. She kissed his fingers, over and over, making sure to cover every bit of him that she could. His breath hitched and she smiled against his skin. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to make it all better.”

Oliver hummed his agreement.

Felicity looked up at him from under her eyelashes to find his eyes had darkened. He slowly licked his lower lip and the sight had another flush racing over her. This one was hotter, leaving her panting slightly, especially when it also spiraled inward. Heat tugged at the pit of her stomach and her thighs clenched as Oliver slowly curled his fingers around hers.

“Much better,” he whispered.

“Good.”

“I think I know how to get the desk back against the wall,” Oliver said, his voice low, throaty. It only had more heat cascading through her. “One that doesn’t include smashing any fingers, or toes, or…” He took his hand back and dragged it down her front, the edges of his fingers ghosting over her beading nipples. “Other very, very sensitive parts.”

She managed to give him a little, “Oh?” through a choked whimper.

“Yep,” he replied before grasping her waist and lifting her up on the desk. Felicity let out a little delighted yelp as Oliver pushed himself between her thighs. Her stomach was definitely getting bigger, but it wasn’t in the way yet. Especially when he hooked his hands in her knees and lifted her legs up to spread her wide so he could press his growing hardness right against her core. She grabbed his shoulders to hold on as he arched his hips closer with a rasped, “We’ll just scoot it right back in there.”

Felicity chuckled, a husky sound that had his eyes dropping to her lips.

“That is a very, very… very good use of the tools we have at hand,” she agreed.

“Right?”

“Mmhmm,” she managed before she pulled his face down to hers.

The second her lips slanted over his, they were done for.

(And it did work. Sort of. Well, okay, not really, because Oliver had to reposition it completely when they were done.)

The End

 *

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

[hereliesbitches--me]

‘ it’s no secret that most people are fucking idiots . ’

‘You’ sentence starters( Always accepting cuz they fire af!!)

“ Fucking idiots is an understatement to what these fucking vultures are.”

Embittered is her scowl, coiled with resentment,  jaw set so tight she can almost hear the teeth crack as they grind. In her hand, she grips a magazine, knuckles white as bone in her vice hold as she glares at the bolded black headlines printed across the cover of a tabloid : 

    ‘ PREGNANT AND ALONE: WHO’S THE FATHER? ‘

The controversial Angel Project leader has been alone for months with Eddie Brock nowhere to be found. With a visible baby bump, who could the father be?             You’ll never guess who!

Bile and red hot fury creep up her throat and burn through every fiber in her body with the sickness of rage. In the photo, the icing to the cake, is she and Freya leaving a shop with bags of maternity clothing and other goods from the week before. The photo only proves to worsen Rosie’s boiling temper as she stands and slams the paper across the table with a hateful snarl into the air,

“ Why can’t they ever stay the FUCK out of my life?! Do they have nothing fucking better to do than follow me around out of all the goddamn celebrities in this city?!” 

Screaming at the top of her lungs, her throat crackles and stings with raw emotion she hardly ever used. She’s overcome with a torrential wave of split emotions: Anger, frustration, irrational embarrassment, sorrow. They all crash and drown her faster than she can process it, like a malfunctioning machine, the only course of action was screaming to cope. Her tremors were violent and left her body otherwise useless to do anything else. It hurt. All these emotions hurt more than anything. She crippled in a way she cannot put in words, charged with the hormonal changes of pregnancy and the preexisting irrationality of her sick mind, Rosie paces around like a mad woman pulling at her own ears and raking through her hair as if redirecting the pain would provide some relief.

Why couldn’t they just leave her alone…?In the midst of madness, that small helpless voice echoes in the back of her mind. Desperate and weak, a godawful sickness climbs from her stomach to her throat – she isn’t sure whether its the baby or the stress that’s causing it – and suddenly she must grip the counter and throw head over the sink when she gags and heaves. She and Eddie were getting better.. in fact, she had finally gotten him to come back home and stay home. They were working through the turmoil, getting him new meds.. and yet, shit like this is all it takes to ruin everything when he is a paranoid schizophrenic.  The last thing she needed was Eddie catching sight of the paper at a stand and going into a fit that sends him running off again.. just the very thought of it makes her heart sink into the cold pit of her soul.

 “ Why can’t I ever catch a break…? ”

The scent of bile stings her nose and fills her with disgust as she holds her hair back and out of the sink, coated in a thin layer of yellow.  The woman grimaced and ran the water to clear it, though the nausea remains coiled in her chest and her stomach in warning. calm down.. calm down. Think of the baby..   The baby… reminded now, her hand dips down to cradle the low hanging roundness of her abdomen with a haggard breath. Breathe in.. out.. in, out. slow and easy..  Just like before. All the stress leaves bitter, frustrated tears rolling down her cheeks. Rosie reached and takes a napkin to wipe her mouth and blow the gunk out of her nose before it got any nastier than it already was… in all honesty, she did appreciate Freya being there in her little episode.. lest she do something worse. and oh she did want to do something so much worse than sitting here crying..In fact, the best way to describe it was like coming back to an addiction… In that moment of weakness, that little vengeful voice craves the thrill and rush of blood when the thing that ails her is wiped from existence. As if taking out all that emotion would finally release her from this burden that weighs her down in all this… Her mind drifts in a limbo in the aftermath of an overload, defeated. Rosie has little choice left, as her shaking legs threaten to give out, but to slowly sink down to the floor and drop her head into her awaiting hand in exhaustion. 

Now its a battle of her senses yet again; Her MORAL senses. Threatening relapse for the sweet release of relinquishing blame. Rosie gurgles and bites at the meaty muscle of her palm with a whine,

“ I wanna.. hurt them, Freya… I feel like I need to..”

[barnes-dameron]

No Mistake, Just a Happy Accident (Ch. 9)

*not my gif*

Poe Dameron x reader (Jane the Virgin AU)

Summary: Your life couldn’t be more on track. You’re on track to graduate from college, you had an amazing relationship with your mom and grandma, and you had an even better relationship with your boyfriend of two years, Finn. It couldn’t be better. But after a medical malfunction, you find yourself pregnant with another man’s child; and that other man is your boss, Poe Dameron. You’re life gets turned up side down when this happens, but you try your best to look on the bright side.

Word Count: 2k

Time seemed to stand still while Poe waited in the interrogation room. He understood that he had to wait in the interrogation room, but he thought that the handcuffs were a bit over the top. His thoughts returned to you from time to time; your eyes swelling with tears as Finn pinned him against the table. 

Poe was angry. He had nothing to do with the First Order; he hated them just as much as the police. The fact that Finn barged into the baby shower and arrested Poe not only in front of his guests but in front of you. Finn knew of your awareness of the things Poe did in the past. Poe couldn’t help but think that this was Finn’s way of getting revenge, trying to imply to you that Poe didn’t change after all. Poe shook his leg anxiously, waiting for Finn so he could explode on him. 

The click of the door caught Poe’s attention as his friend Snap walked in. Poe let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his seat. Snap sat in front of Poe, setting his brief case next to him. 

“Poe,” Snap said, trying to capture Poe’s gaze. “I know you’re mad at me and Jess but-”

“I’m not mad at you and Jess,” Poe confessed, finally looking at his friend. “I figured it would happen, but I didn’t expect it to be when Jess and I were still dating. I’m mad that the police are on to us.”

Snap also leaned back in his chair, wiping a hand across his face. He shook his head before returning his gaze to Poe. 

“What do you want to do?” Snap asked, full of distress. 

“We tell them,” Poe affirmed, resting his forearms on the table while leaning forward. “Finn and I have many differences but we have one thing in common: Y/N. And we would do anything to protect her.”

“Are you sure?” Snap asked. “There’s a chance that this won’t work out.” 

“I’m sure,” Poe said before Finn entered the room. 

Snap got up from his seat, offering the seat to Finn before making his way to stand behind Poe. Finn sat in the seat that Snap vacated, putting his bad cop face on as he set a file before Poe. 

“Mr. Dameron,” Finn said, opening the file to reveal several pictures. “These photos were found stored in your phone, and in your office. Do you have anything to say?” 

“Yeah,” Poe said, offering his cocky smile before returning to his hard stare. “I’m not a part of the First Order.” 

“Then why are these pictures in your office?”

“Because I gave them to him,” Snap confessed, moving to stand besides Poe’s chair. “I took the pictures and gave them to Poe.” 

“So you’re part of the First Order too?” Finn asked, furrowing his eyebrows in both anger and confusion. 

“No!” Poe shouted, getting more frustrated by the minute. “None of us are part of the First Order.”

“Then why are these pictures in your office?”

“Because we are part of the Resistance!” 

Poe let out a sigh before leaning back in his seat. Finn just looked at the two men, his mouth a open a bit from the revelation. For years, Finn thought the Resistance wasn’t real and just a local rumor that people spread around to bring hope. He never thought it would be real. 

“The Resistance,” Finn said slowly. “The Resistance is a real thing?”

“Yes,” Poe replied. “The Resistance is an underground organization that was created to take down the First Order. Snap has been trailing them for some time now, and has been giving me the pictures so I can give them to my superior.” 

“Who’s your superior?”

“Don’t tell him, Poe,” Snap said. “He already knows enough as it is. At this point it’s dangerous.”

“It’s alright,” Poe replied. “He wants what we want.” Poe turned towards Finn. “General Leia Organa.”

“Leia Organa?” Finn questioned. He sat back in his chair, soaking in every bit of information that Poe was telling him. Sure there was some parts he could believe, but some were harder than others. “The Leia Organa? One of the most prominent figures in the city is the leader of the Resistance?”

“Yes,” Poe and Snap said simultaneously. 

“Finn,” Poe sighed. “I know we have our differences. I know you might resent me. But all things put aside, I’m asking you to consider this.”

“What are you saying, Poe?” 

“I’m asking you to join us. In the Resistance.” Poe kept his gaze steady with Finn’s. This was a long shot, he knew it. But Poe was always one to take risks. “What do you say?”

Finn took a deep breath, remembering everything from his past. He remembered the times of his youth in the orphanage and his past involvement in the First Order. He remembered how long the gang had it’s hold on the community, the violence and crime that they were responsible for. But most importantly, he remembered you. He remembered how you two met, your first date, your first kiss. He remembered when he proposed to you, but he also remembers you calling it off. He never hated you for it. He didn’t hate the baby either. He still loved you, with everything he had. If there is a real reason for him to get involved with the Resistance, it was you. Finn sat up straight, looking into Poe’s dark brown eyes with assurance. 

“I’m in.”  

You sat in the waiting room of the police station, patiently yet anxiously awaiting for your boyfriend. Ever since Poe was carried away by the police during the baby shower, fear bubbled in the pit of your stomach. You tried not to stress, it was bad for the baby, but this was just outrageous. You were aware of Poe’s past, but you never thought it would catch up to him like this. You didn’t feel anger, but there was something similar to it that you felt at the moment. The fact that Finn would barge in on your baby shower and arrested Poe right there in front of everybody. It wasn’t anger that you felt towards him, you could never be angry at Finn, but what you felt then and now was very similar to anger. 

Poe emerged from the doors accompanied by Snap and Finn. Your instincts kicked in as your feet moved towards Poe in a hurry as if they had a mind of their own. You wrapped your arms around Poe, in effort to embrace him, but the moment was ruined when your baby bump hit Poe in the stomach, causing him to take a couple of steps back. Poe let out a laugh, but hugged you against his side as he placed a kiss on top of your head. 

You looked up at Poe, your arms wrapped around his torso. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the tears in your eyes from falling. You hated these pregnancy hormones, and you couldn’t wait to get rid of them. 

“Yeah,” Poe responded, offering you his signature charming smile. “I’m fine. I’m just going to help Finn out with something.” 

You turned your gaze from Poe’s to Finn’s. He was standing off towards the side, hands in pockets, but watching you and Poe. Finn was still wearing his uniform but a leather jacket over it. You nodded your head, stepping away from Poe while tucking a stray hair behind your ear. 

“Okay,” you said, after taking a breath. “You should probably do that.” 

This wasn’t your worst case scenario dealing with Poe and Finn. But this, Poe helping Finn with something. Something. What was something? You ran your hand across your belly, taking more steps away from the group of men. 

Poe reached out, holding your hand in his. 

“Hey,” Poe said, gaining back your attention. “Don’t worry. I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. Poe stepped forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, causing you to close your eyes automatically. Warmth spread throughout your body, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Butterflies? Those weren’t butterflies. You thought to yourself. You placed a hand on your belly, feeling every movement. “Poe, the baby’s kicking.”

Poe’s eyes lit up with excitement, as he ran his hands across your belly. You felt the baby kick a couple more times, causing Poe to break out in the widest smile. 

“Holy shit,” Poe exclaimed. “The baby’s kicking! It’s moving inside there! It’s moving inside you!”

“Poe,” Finn said, breaking his silence. “We gotta go.”

Poe nodded, still smiling. He pressed a quick kiss to your belly, then to your lips. 

“I’ll see you later,” Poe said to you before following Finn and Snap out of the station. 

You waved one hand to him, the other resting on your belly. 

Finn and Poe sat in the car in silence, watching the building in front of them. It’s been almost two months since Finn paired up with the Resistance and was partnered with Poe by the great Leia Organa. After careful investigation and receiving multiple tips, Finn and Poe watched the building for any suspicious activity that could lead to the First Order. They didn’t talk much. The only topic they actively engaged in was about either the First Order or the Resistance. Neither one of them wanted to talk about you, but Finn felt a bit bold. 

“How’s Y/N?” Finn asked, breaking the silence. 

“She’s good,” Poe replied, looking out the widow. “The baby’s good. She’s due in two weeks.” 

Finn nodded, swallowing a lump that was forming in his throat. 

“That’s great,” Finn said. “Glad to hear she’s doing good. Glad to see her happy.”

Poe looked towards Finn, guilt washing over him like the tide. He didn’t know why he felt guilty, there was no reason. Yes, it was his baby but that baby wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t him who put the baby in Finn’s, at the time, girlfriend. It wasn’t him who caused you to break off the engagement. But he did kiss you not long after your break up with Finn. 

“Listen, Finn,” Poe began, running his hand through his unruly black hair. “This whole thing with you, me, and Y/N is extremely weird. Hell, it’s straight out of a telenovela. If you hold anything against me, I don’t blame you. If the shoe was on the other foot, I would hate me too.”

Finn shook his hand, placing a hand on the steering wheel of the car. He cracked a smile, and returned Poe’s gaze. 

“Poe,” Finn sighed. “This baby, it might’ve been the universe telling me that Y/N and I aren’t meant to be together. I resented you for a while, but I see that you make her happy. If she has to be with someone, I’m glad it’s with you.”  

“Wow,” Poe responded in surprise. “Finn, I- Look!”

Finn and Poe stared out the window, watching two men dressed in black enter the building. One man had long raven black hair that reached just above his shoulder while the other had a shock of red hair. 

“That’s Kylo,” Finn said, nodding towards the taller man. “And the other is-”

“Hux,” Poe finished. “Yeah, I know that pasty looking bastard.”

“So this is their place,” Finn pondered, continuing to watch the men. “We have to address the Resistance and wait for reinforcement.” 

“No time,” Poe replied, assessing the situation. “We can notify them, but we have to go in ourselves. We can’t just wait here.”

“Why not?” Finn asked. 

“Because,” Poe answered. “If we go in, we can get some information that we can’t get if we stormed the place. This might be our only shot.”

Finn stayed silent for a moment, thinking of the situation. Finn had to admit, Poe had a point. Finn reached towards the back seat, and grabbed the two guns he threw back there earlier. He handed one to Poe. 

“Alright,” Finn said. “Let’s go.”

That’s it for chapter nine! Let me know if you want to be tagged. To be continued…

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @multific@lilrockstartitan145@samanthasmileys @i-said-goddameron @peregrinestook

[reader-imagines-blog]

Vows [Part 5] (Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader)

a/n: aaahhh! hi! im back! im sosososo sorry that i was gone for so long oh my gosh! school hit me like a ton of bricks and i needed some time to get in the swing of things! take this and enjoy and guess what? i'll have part 6 up tomorrow along with a filled request! enjoy, loves, and thank you for being so patient and understanding! 

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9

TAG LIST: @queen-of-the-north-amina @avistella @chippychipmunks @buckybarnesisalittleshit @chloehamiltonn @millie67 @doctorwhoandrory

WORD COUNT: 2,093

************************************* 

"Choices, choices. Take the bridge and risk being seen by anyone or cross the water and," 

Brienne tugged on Jaime's chain, the not-so-golden-anymore Lion stumbling. Although he had almost fallen flat on his front, Jaime's smirk held strong.

"Silence, Kingslayer." 

His smirk fell. 

Out of habit, Y/N corrected her. Y/N corrected anyone who called Jaime by that title, no matter who they were. After Jaime had confessed to her that he hated it, she began hating it too. 

"His name is Jaime." 

Both knights looked at Y/N curiously, but she paid no mind. Jaime's eyes lingered but Y/N was determined not to look his way. 

After discovering that she was with child, Y/N had taken to avoiding her husband. Her time in her brother's camp, two months to be exact, was filled with sneers and taunts thrown her way each time she ventured from her tent. 'The Lannister Bitch' they called her. These men, pledged to her house and sworn to be loyal. Calling her child a bastard because of her marriage to the enemy. A marriage she had no say in. To a man she had grown to care about despite the devastating heartbreak he had put her through. 

Y/N felt that she deserved every taunt thrown her way. 

 Y/N felt like a coil, wound so tight that she may never straighten again. She had been forbidden to relieve her stress in the tilt-yard as she had throughout her childhood. The second that she had picked up her sword, Catelyn was there to scold her for endangering her heir. Her sword was confiscated and Y/N felt defenseless. Left to sit and watch her twin plan and do the fighting, Y/N was constantly on edge and ready to argue. Hormone imbalances due to pregnancy didn't do her any favors, either. 

Robb had finally snapped and confined her to her tent when she questioned his betrayal of the Frey's in front of his counsel. Her twin had accused her of siding with the Lannisters, all but calling her a common whore, before banishing her from the tent. Y/N felt like a prisoner among her own family. 

When Catelyn approached her that night, telling her that she needed to get Sansa and Arya back, Y/N had been immediately on board. Anything to feel free again, even if only for a short time. 

Catelyn knew that traveling while with child was especially treacherous, but she also knew that where Jaime went, Y/N would have to follow. She was a Lannister now, pregnant with a Lannister cub. It broke Lady Stark's heart to send her daughter back into the lion's den, but Y/N knew she had no choice. It was expected, and would lead to less conflict. 'From this day until my last day' they had said. 

So, in the dead of night as Robb and the camp slept, Catelyn watched as Brienne's horse led Jaime's out of the camp by a chain, Y/N following on her own. In the pit of her stomach, Catelyn knew that she would never see her eldest daughter again. It was a mother's intuition, and it was painful. Her family was being torn apart before her very eyes, and she was all but feeding Y/N to lions. 

A week into their journey, Y/N knew that Jaime was purposefully being a pain in the arse to inconvenience Brienne. This irritated Y/N to no end. 

Constantly plagued by nausea and forced to sleep on the forest floor, only three dresses in her pack and hardly any chances to bathe, Y/N absolutely loathed Jaime's attitude. She wanted her husband's support and maybe some gratitude for helping him escape. Instead, Y/N got snark and constant sarcasm. Putting Jaime in his place became a common pastime for Y/N. Jaime would never say it aloud, but he absolutely loved it when Y/N would bite back at him. 

Currently, Y/N stared at the rushing river in front of them with hungry eyes, feeling the weeks worth of grime on her skin all the more now that the prospect of a bath dangled in front of her. She knew there was no time, and it took physical restraint not to rush into the cool water. 

Jaime continued to talk, his usual condescending tone light on his words. The tone brought Y/N back to the situation at hand, causing her heart to ache as she thought back to the early days of their marriage, before their world went to shit.

"Cross the bridge and risk being seen by anyone passing by, but cross by water and risk being taken by the current or my escaping down stream." 

Y/N scoffed, "Good luck with that, dear husband. You'd drown and I'm not jumping in to save you. Neither is Brienne." 

Jaime shrugged, smirking. "It's wonderful to watch you struggle with these dilemmas, darling. You're jaw clenches and it's really very endearing." 

Y/N didn't acknowledge Jaime's term of endearment. "The bridge is safer. In the water we risk being overturned with a boat of that size and three people. Again. The water is cold and the current is too strong. It's too dangerous. We'll cross casually and hopefully raise no suspicions." 

Jaime rose an eyebrow, still smirking. "Well, well. The new Lady Lannister, a gambler. The country will have an absolute fit." 

========================= 

Stepping onto the bridge, Brienne took the rear with Y/N at the head. 

The threesome walked briskly before Jaime decided to sit, complaining that he needed to rest. 

Y/N knew exactly what he was playing at and she hoped she could keep him moving. "Jaime, sweet, please. Now is not the time for thi-" 

"I've been on my feet far too long, darling. Corns. I never used to get corns. Of course, I used to ride everywhere." 

Brienne pulled on Jaime's chain, looking around in paranoia. "Get up, now!" 

Y/N was about to speak when Jaime reached and stole Brienne's sword from it's sheath, cutting his weak chain and standing at the defense. 

Brienne was down a sword, but still prepared to fight. She was completely prepared to defeat the Lion of Lannister, but Y/N held a hand up, stopping her.

Brienne paused, hoping that Y/N had not hoped to side with her husband. She wouldn’t be able to hold them both off, unwilling to harm Y/N. Brienne’s  eyes widened in shock as she was proven wrong. 

"Brienne, your sword if you would?" 

Brienne hesitated, as did Jaime. But the knight conceded nervously and Jaime stood his ground. 

Y/N tested the sword in her hands, the hilt feeling at home as it pressed into her palm. Y/N had missed swordplay. Desperately. 

"Stand down, Jaime." 

Y/N's voice was steel, cold and hard. Jaime had never heard her speak that way. Upset? Yes. Broken? More times than he'd like to think about. But the steeled and passive way she spoke now was something Jaime had never heard. 

"Now, now, Y/N. Gambling and threatening your Lord Husband? I thought Starks were honorable?" 

Brienne went to step forward, but Y/N again stopped her. 

"Let me handle this, Brienne. You swore a vow to my mother not to harm him. I swore nothing. Keep watch." 

Y/N could see that Jaime faltered slightly, fighting to keep his cocky facade. 

"You wouldn't kill me. Our wedding was nothing but vows. You did swear."

Husband and wife danced circles around each other, both staying on the defense but neither quite willing to make the first lunge. 

Y/N smirked, Jaime noting just how intimidating the facial expression made her appear. 

"I swore to be yours. I don't remember anything about me swearing to protect you. However, you swore to protect me, did you not? The only one breaking vows here is you, darling." 

Using Jaime's slight hesitation at the mention of their vows, Y/N lunged and attempted to disarm him. Jaime blocked her quickly, eyes hard as he began lunging. 

Now on the defense, Y/N blocked three blows before yet again moving to disarm Jaime. 

Still finding ways to shock her husband, Y/N's expression gave nothing away as they fought. Jaime was pushing his sword down hard onto Y/N's, the steel clashing right in front of her face. 

"Jaime, enough! This is ridiculous!" 

Y/N pushed up with surprising strength and Jaime staggered back. 

Jaime stabbed at Y/N again, his wife stepping back and blocking. "You're right, my love. It's ridiculous that I never knew my wife could fight this well." 

As the pair fought, Brienne stood back, worried about the attention that the fight would draw to them and terrified that the pair would hurt each other. As the fight progressed, the couple grew more and more intense, swinging harder and aiming to injure. 

Stepping back to breathe, Jaime and Y/N stood poised in defence should the other one attack. 

"You're graceful, Y/N. I'll give you that."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. 

"You'll give your life soon if you don't stop acting like a fool, father of my child or not." 

Jaime lunged at her, angry that she would threaten him with their babe, hearing a hiss of pain before he was forced back with a kick to the stomach. 

Y/N was breathing heavily and Jaime's heart dropped painfully when he noticed a shallow cut on her collar bone. He had hurt her. Another vow broken because of his pride. 

"You're a fool." 

Before Jaime could respond to his wife's harsh whisper or even think, Y/N had stepped forward and kicked his legs out from under him, using his distraction to her advantage. 

Jaime landed on his back, the breath stolen from his lungs as he made impact with the ground. Y/N caught his sword before it fell and tossed it over the bridge, her other hand holding the tip of her blade to Jaime's throat. Her grey eyes were ablaze and Jaime knew that he had only experienced true, unadulterated fear of this nature one other time, ten-and-seven years ago when he murdered the Mad King. 

"Do you concede?" 

Before Jaime could even attempt to force words out of his throat, slow clapping came from behind Brienne, and the two women turned quickly. Jaime's eyes remained on his wife. Sword in hand, hair mussed, the sun casting a glow over her lithe form. Had she always looked like such a goddess? Jaime was so enthralled with Y/N that he didn't hear the man address him. 

"Well, looks like your woman has gotten the best of ya." 

Y/N looked to the flayed man of House Bolton flying on their banners and tensed. She remained composed, years of lessons coming back to her as she held herself as a lady should. At least, as regal as one could look while holding a sword to their husband's throat. 

"Yes, well, passion and anger make for weak swordplay." She didn't lower her sword and Brienne felt defenseless without her own weapon. 

The man at the head smirked, appraising Y/N, eyes raking over her body. Jaime's jaw ticked angrily. 

"What's your name, love?" 

Y/N, quick and calm as a Stark should always be, responded smoothly.

"Alessandra Snow. I was a handmaiden at the Stark camp." 

The man laughed heartily, his men laughing with him. "Don't take me for a fool, Lady Y/N. I'd recognize The Flower of House Stark anywhere. Little Lyanna. Your brother's been lookin' for ya." 

Y/N ground her teeth at the nickname, not bothering to cover for her lie or even apologize. Her gaze remained level with his until his eyes shifted. 

Tilting his head to look at the man behind her, the man’s smirk grew. "And that makes you Jaime Lannister. Just the man we need." 

Jaime stood, stepping in front of Y/N. She didn't continue to point her sword at him. 

"Let us be. My father will give you whatever you want." 

Y/N rolled her eyes, looking to Brienne to find a similar, painfully annoyed expression on the knight's face. Her jaw clenched as she looked to Jaime, knowing that he was completely serious. Almost four-and-ten and still calling on his father's money to get him out of tight situations. 

The Bolton man scoffed, "Enough for a new head? If the King in the North hears that I had the Kingslayer and his sister and then let them go, he'd cut it right off." 

Y/N's eyes hardened and she raised her sword, but she didn't remain on the defensive for long as they were all seized. Jaime had grabbed her wrist, stopping her from fighting, his eyes focused on her stomach. Y/N's eyes were still ablaze with fury when she looked at her husband, on her knees in front of the Bolton bannermen. 

 "I'd rather he takes yours."

[rosehoare]

The future of love

Published in Sunday magazine, 2014

Ready for Valentine’s Day? It’s the day we celebrate the romantic notion that you can love the same person your whole life!

I mean romantic, as opposed to realistic. Because, let me tell you, my friend: by committing ourselves to monogamous relationships with one person (just one! That’s half what’s considered reasonable to help yourself to from a biscuit sampler), we are behaving like sexual anorexics, starving our basic, hardwired hunger.

From a computer scientist’s point of view, forging a face to face connection belongs in the too hard basket. And from a philosopher’s point of view, we are living in an age of such overweening narcissism that we might not be capable of real, scary, grown-up love anyway.

Nevertheless, since our weak minds cling to the delusion of love and our culture obsesses over “cute couples”, and since being single can get to feeling like a slow withering of the soul, the question persists: how can we stay in love and be happy?

Last September, ethicist Brian D. Earp and some colleagues at the University of Oxford’s Centre for Neuroethics co-authored a paper proposing a chemical intervention to a crummy problem we have inherited.

That old “men just aren’t built for monogamy” cop-out turns out to be backed by data observable across species, and championed by evolutionary psychologists.

“The engine of natural selection is that you want to maximise reproduction,” Earp says. “We’re not puppets of our genes, but from an evolutionary standpoint, it makes no sense to have one sexual partner your whole life.”

Things were simpler for our Pleistocene-era ancestors. They lived half as long as we do, roaming around in groups of about 150 relatives, raising their kids communally. And after three or four years, the parenting was done, whereas we live in a more information-rich world, where raising a child to the point where it can fend for itself like the feral kid in Mad Max doesn’t really cut it anymore.

(Procrastination being what it is, I could tell you a lot more about this colourful Pleistocene era, with its woolly mammoths, sabre-toothed tigers and other such “megafauna” which we may, in our lifetimes, see “rewilded” in a Jurassic Park-like situation. Google it if you don’t believe me.)

The point is, Pleistocene parents used to be able to get back amongst it very quickly, while today’s parents are committed to parenting until the child is 16. And even after that, couples are expected to spend decades more as monogamous romantic partners.

Clearly, Earp says, “there’s a gap to make up between what our human dispositions are like and what we expect of ourselves. The question is how do we make up that difference?”

Currently, we respond to the problem with infidelity (10-54% of wives and 20-72% of husbands) and divorce (around 42% in New Zealand). We go to relationship counselling but plenty of couples don’t benefit from it. So Earp suggests we try huffing oxytocin.

Oxytocin is the hormone we naturally produce in situations related to attachment. It floods our system when we orgasm, when we go into labour, when we breastfeed, when we hug. When you come home and see your dog, you get a burst of oxytocin, and your dog does too.

On the face of it, oxytocin seems like a miracle drug for couples counselling. It reduces anxiety and stress (even when couples are discussing a ‘chronic source of conflict'). It boosts trust, eye contact, empathy and attentiveness. Under the influence of oxytocin, couples remember their good times more readily.

It even improves monogamous impulses: last year, neuroscientists found that after inhaling oxytocin, men in relationships displayed less interest in a pretty female than single men.

But it has a few wacky side effects. Oxytocin can turn the volume up on us-and-them feelings like envy, schadenfreude and ethnocentrism -- it makes people less friendly to strangers than they would otherwise be. For people with aggressive tendencies, oxytocin seems to actually enhance aggressive behaviour. It also brings up more bad memories for those with anxious attachment to their mother.

“Oxytocin isn’t just this universal enhancer that makes everything more positive, happy and trustworthy,” Earp says. “It interacts with the person, who they are and what their attachment styles are.”

All the same, for the right people and in the right environment, Earp thinks oxytocin shows promise. “I don’t want to have to be constantly spraying something up my nose in order simply to function in my relationship, but if I used it in a counselling session while I’m learning more productive communication behaviours or something like that, and then I weaned myself off of it but I retained what I’d learned, that could be very useful.”

But enough of bringing our Pleistocene impulses into the 21st century with experimental chemicals! Hasn’t technology already brought us further than that? Set the flux capacitor to 2045, Marty. Where we’re going, we don’t need roads!

Dr James Hughes is a sociologist and executive director of the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies in Connecticut. I wanted to ask him about the possibility of love with an artificial intelligence (AI).

Some futurists predict that, by 2045 or thereabouts, we will experience something called the Singularity, a point when artificial intelligence will overtake human intelligence, and keep improving at an exponential rate, leaving us all in its dust.

Some people find the prospect of AI menacing. Dr Hughes is not one of those people (although he is concerned about the effect it might have on the labour market). He doesn’t find the idea of a relationship with a disembodied AI all that outlandish.

For one thing, he says, we already interact with AI a lot. Software that uses algorithms and big data to predict what we want -- Netflix, Google, dating agencies -- are a form of AI. And Hughes says we already know that humans “anthropomorphize and seem to take a great deal of emotional comfort from relationships with technology”. In the 1960s, an MIT scientist created a rudimentary chat bot and programmed it with a script for psychotherapy. He was disturbed by how readily people opened up to it.

“The Roomba is another example: the little circular robot vacuum cleaners that wander around your house and suck up your dirt? People were naming them. They would feel heartbroken if one got broken and they’d send them back, and if asked ‘do you want a replacement’, they’d say ‘No, I want my one back’.”

Hughes says the attractions of electronic forms of love and romance are manifold: an electronic partner is constantly available, there’s less risk of sexually transmitted disease or unwanted pregnancy, and you don’t ever have to bicker with your robot lover, unless that’s what you’re into.

And yes, let’s get to the part you have probably been wondering about: sex with a robot or a remote human, via teledildonics and whatnot, promises to be fulfilling and, according to robot sex expert David Levy, commonplace by 2050.

When it comes to the burden of emotional and sexual engagement in a relationship, technology is already helping pick up the slack: a new sex app developed for Google Glass allows partners to stream each other’s points of view, can flash up sex advice in flagrante delicto and can even dim the lights. (Can you imagine anything sexier than watching your partner issue a pre-coital voice-activation command to their wifi-enabled home lighting system?)

Researchers are currently programming facial recognition software to help people with autism read emotional cues, so, Hughes says, “We’re looking at a future where ‘Your wife seems to be happy right now, but she’s really mad at you’ suddenly flashes up on your Google Glass.”

Regardless of whether it’s with a human you only connect with in World of Warcraft or a robot, Hughes believes technology will enable unimaginably richer connections. We’ll use haptic technology that responds to touch; facial recognition software that helps read moods, and nano-neural interfacing that enables us to share thoughts and memories.

“There may be AI in the future who, because of the depth of their programmed understanding of the human mind and emotions, knows you ten times better than anybody else could,” Hughes says.

Ah, but would I feel known? However nice it might be to have a robot lover who can suggest a movie I’ll love, wouldn’t I somehow still compartmentalize my feelings for an AI as being of a different, lesser order to what my feelings could be for a human?

Not if you can’t tell them apart, Hughes says. A classic test designed by math genius Alan Turing pits an AI against a human intelligence, and asks us to guess which we’re communicating with. “Every year, we see AI getting higher and higher thresholds of people guessing they’re human,” Hughes says. “The interesting thing about the Turing test is lots of humans fail it. There are humans whose interaction and style of communication is such that they can’t communicate as fully realised human beings.”

Given how important and universal the experience of love is, philosophers haven’t made a very impressive job of explaining its mysteries. In fact, some of the most influential philosophers had abysmal love lives. Nietzsche sprang a proposal on a girl he barely knew, was rejected and died alone. Kierkegaard had a nice girlfriend, but got emo and broke off their engagement. Sartre and De Beauvoir came close with a markedly bohemian relationship - lots of intellectual chats, no fidelity, no marriage, no kids.

So far, so romantic. Then along comes Alain Badiou’s In Praise of Love.

In an interview format, the elderly French philosopher describes love as a sharing of perspectives that creates a new reality, an event as irrevocably life-altering as when Keanu takes the red pill in The Matrix.

Dr Tim Rayner, a philosopher at Sydney-based consultancy Philosophy for Change, has been pondering love ever since he gave a disastrous speech about its essential unknowability at his brother’s wedding years ago, and he thinks Badiou has come closest to nailing love, on behalf of philosophy.

“Badiou thinks when you fall in love with someone, you see your life again -- not just as it could be, but as it should be.”

“It’s a real world that we’re drawn into,” Rayner says. “It’s not like a window that we can look through and go ‘that was interesting’ and move on. We feel compelled to actualize it, because it’s part of who we are.”

That’s Badiou’s philosophical ideal of love, but it’s not how he sees things enacted. Rayner says Badiou is especially cranky about people looking for “risk-free” love based on mutual compatibility -- the kind of casual, exploratory relationships orchestrated by dating services, where, if things get tough, it’s easy to walk away. Anyone hoping to make love more convenient, to gain the ecstatic feelings without hazarding any disruption to their life, is missing the point. Love, the only way Badiou would have it, is necessarily fraught.

“It’s a very frightening place to be,” Rayner says. “You’re violating the sanctity of the ego and putting yourself in a position of vulnerability. But you need to go there to create the common space of love. And since we do live in a fairly egoistic society, for some people, that’s too much of a leap to make. But if you are going to commit yourself to the love experience, you have to say ‘my life is no longer just about me, it’s about us, and everything I do from now on is about strengthening that bond’.” Then you have to figure out how you’re going to change the world together.

Maybe the new reality you create together is being Hollywood’s hottest power couple. Maybe it’s doing a really sensational home renovation. For a lot of couples, it’s having kids -- a transformative experience that can have meaning for couples beyond fulfilling an ancestral drive.

That’s a traditional perspective, but Rayner says you can experience Badiou’s kind of love outside of a romantic relationship, too. For Badiou, a militant Maoist who agitated in the ‘68 uprisings, comrades can have a kind of comradely love forged by being engaged in a common struggle. And Rayner thinks colleagues -- workers or artists -- collaborating on a project can feel powerfully bonded by the experience of co-creation.

And if you’re single this Valentine’s Day, take heart: you, too, can experience Badiou’s world-reconfiguring, romantic love, all by yourself.

“When you meet another person who just sweeps you off your feet and gives you a sense of how your whole life could be different, often those kinds of relationships are unrequited”, Rayner says. “I mean, the best romances are, right?”