#what pregnancy is like or should be like for most people. just trying to unpack why it feels like this to me. and it also goes along with

[vivwritesfics]

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

[wild-wombytch]

So. I'm still new to radical feminism and still in the middle of my peak trans, so I'm trying to be careful with my critical thinking and tonight I genuinely wondered about that injunction that feminism must by default ve trans inclusive. Because does it, really? What do trans people actually bring on the table for feminism? Or are they only beneficiary/exploitative of feminism without bringing on anything in return but misogynistic anon hate? I wondered "hey, if "trans women are women" is a true statement, then what is statistically the involvement of trans women in women's rights? In abortion's rights? In thing that allegedly concern womanhood even if it doesn't concern them personally?"

Because I'm a lesbian and chances are I'll never need an abortion in my whole life. Hell, due to personal reasons, I'd have more chances to want to keep my pregnancy going if I had to have one because I might not be able handle abortion psychologically. Yet, I'm fighting for every woman to be able to have an abortion, to have that choice. Even if more likely than not it doesn't effect me as an individual as much as it effects me as a woman. Because women always have to bear the weight of all the women's rights anyway, we get little privileges in terms of individuation in comparison to men. So I wondered -genuinely, in good faith- if trans women were feeling the weight of this as well or if it was going to be full male "not my problem, don't care" entitlement. And ladies. Let me offer some more exhibit (I swear these are all the first results I had for TWO different wordings on Google):

So let's do the midnight/mushbrain quick unpacking of this :

- No stats

- No arguments, we're supposed to accept trans women benefit feminism because They Said So™

- Lots of vitriolic takes on anyone questioning it ("cruel" "appropriative of the rhetoric of women's rights" that "inflict life-threatening harm on trans people"-lol-, "narrowly interpreting a statement", "bigoted", "anti feminist", weakening feminism)

- Many of those are made by trans women and also denying biological reality [not surprising, BUT an argument of TRAs is that most trans people believe in bio sex...despite hating radfems, somehow]

- It's so focused on pushing the trans activism, trying to prove that trans women don't have male privileges (an idea in these examples often defended by...other males) and that uwu but transwomen experience misogyny too uwu + trying so hard to prove us that there's no threat to women's rights here whatsoever. Nope. None. Please, look elsewhere. That it doesn't answer my question directly.

And by that lack of answer I ironically found it. It's male centered. It's gaslighting us in believing women's rights are ok and NEED trans activism (cause women need saviors and haven't been handling feminism themselves on their own and under hatred all of these centuries, y'know /s?). Nobody cares about women's rights here. It's not based on facts, it's all based on the fact we should blindly believe what TiM say. That including them will benefit us somehow and that it's not male violence because they identify as women so they allegedly can't reproduce male violence. All that while packaging disagreement from female feminists in diverse degrees of insults and misogyny and misinformation...say again how there's no trans agenda here and how it's not like, oh, I don't know, literal male entitlement and narcissism?

Anyway, I'm too sleepy to dig further but by all means, please do if you want to add something.

Just, I'm new to this and this is already pretty exhausting. To think a lot of you have been radfems for years...istg y'all are braver than honeybadgers (complimentary). Literally all the online communities now cater to them and throw us under the bus when we raise questions. It's male privileges benefiting males over females.

Exhibit 4852 about why radfems/gender criticals are right.

[ajaegerpilot]

sometimes im like i guess i could do pregnancy to get a baby at the end of it given how difficult it is for single or lgbt people to adopt. but truly with the way abortion rights are threatened is really solidifying it to me right now that of all the things that could happen to me in my life, being pregnant and especially being forced to be pregnant would literally be among the worst things that could ever happen to me. if i ever got pregnant, like i wouldn't rest until i got the abortion. i never want to be pregnant even for a day, not even for a minute.

dont rebl*g

[2-fast-2-curious]

I Know You Wanna Go to Heaven But You’re Human Tonight

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Reader

Summary: Your husband and forever Valentine, Matt Murdock is working too much. You surprise him at the office but you’re the one who’s going to be in for a surprise.

Warnings: Office sex, Breeding kink, Matt talks a lot and it’s dirty, unprotected sex, pregnancy talk, discussion of contraceptives, discussions of fertility struggles, barely any clothes are taken off, IDK anything about Catholicism and that might show with the way they talk about the wedding and birth control. 

A/N: For all my lovely readers, you’re all my valentines today. I feel like I haven’t written something this filthy in a while but I had to try super hard since it’s for @princessphilly​ breeding kink challenge. Also usually I write a whole thing at once but I kept getting too turned on and had to take so many breaks because I was getting too worked up. I was an idiot and starting writing this without even checking if it was eligible but it is because its Marvel and that’s the ship I will be dying on. Also I doubt I’ll be able to finish the series before Netflix takes it off.

You had been running errands around town for most of the day but you really missed Matt and wanted to check in on him. You knew how sometimes he forgot to take care of himself when he got wrapped up in a case.

“Hey, babe. Just wanted to drop by and keep you company.” You leaned over the desk to give Matt a kiss and it still made your heart race every time he rested his fingers on your jaw.

You described each item as you unpacked your bag. “Here’s an order of pasta from our favourite place, tomato basil arancini, a salad with burrata, figs and prosciutto. I also got us some San Pellegrino. I would’ve gotten us wine but it’s a bit early for that.”

“How many people were you planning to feed?” Matt asked as you filled his entire desk with food.

“Okay, I admit, I originally had gone to Eataly in Flatiron to pick up some accoutrements for our meal and I got carried away.”

“We also have a new set of ravioli stamps so that’s what we’re doing next weekend.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Murdock.” Matt loved calling you that and you loved it when he did. You loved belonging to him in every sense.

“I promise I’ll try not to distract you too much, I just wanted to be close to you.” You took out a thick binder from your bag and sat down on one of the chairs on the opposite side of Matt’s large wooden desk. You had picked it up this morning by your friend, Stella. She was tired of waiting for the ‘right’ partner and decided she wanted to have a child by herself.

Matt’s ears picked up on the sound of you putting the binder down on his desk. It was too heavy to be a novel or a notebook. “What is that?”

“Stella gave it to me, she’s in the final stages of choosing a sperm donor and she wants a second opinion.” You now had Matt’s full attention.

“Well, you do have excellent taste in men.” Matt punctuated his statement with a smirk.

“You think you’re joking but you should consider selling your sperm if this whole lawyer thing doesn’t work or if we never need extra money.” Who were you kidding, you lived in New York City, you always needed extra money. “I feel like every person in the book is just you but described by a different person.”

“Care to elaborate?” Matt seeming to have forgotten about the case he was working on.

“Smart”

“Ridiculously fast reflexes”

“Funny”

“Ivy-league educated”

“Good physique”

“Beautiful eyes”

“Strong moral compass”

“Athletic”

“Honest”

“Good mouth shape”

“Owns his own business”

“Very observant”

“Tidy”

With each trait, you leaned closer to Matt, you could go on forever but your lips landed on him, silencing your list of compliments.

You broke away before the kiss could get more heated. “Matt when I came in here I promised I wouldn’t be a distraction. Now you’ve got me all worked up.”

“Some of those I don’t think are on the profiles and some of them are redundant.” Matt took off his glasses stashing them inside a drawer of his desk. “But you know a compliment is never wasted on me so I’ll allow it, babe.”

“Regardless, I think you’re excellent baby daddy material.” Your heart was fluttering as you admired your husband sitting on the other side of the desk. Is it weird to have a crush on the person you’re married to?

Matt closed his laptop and moved it off his desk. “That’s just your uterus talking.”

“What do you know about my uterus?” You were puzzled, wondering if you had said something to Matt.

“Since we’ve been together this is the first time that your body has been ovulating.” Matt paused, unsure if he should continue. “I can…um smell it”

The type of birth control you were on previously had prevented pregnancy by stopping your body from releasing eggs but you were thinking about switching to something else. Therefore, this was the first time your body was naturally ovulating in a very long time.

You felt embarrassed despite it being something you couldn’t control. Plus Matt wasn’t the type of guy who would purposely bring something like that up to shame you. “Oh, is that weird for you?”

Matt held your hand reassuringly. “Only in the sense of how badly I want to take you over every flat surface in this office.”

“I have an appointment with my gynecologist next week to try to get on something different.”

“What if you didn’t?” You almost didn’t understand what Matt was implying. “This case should be wrapped up six months from now and the publicity it could bring could mean a more flexible workload for us. It would give me plenty of time to dote on my pregnant wife and help out with the kid.”

You and Matt both wanted to have kids. You knew how heartbreaking and lengthy the struggle could be to conceive. Seeing your friends going through their various fertility journeys had you thinking about bringing it up to Matt soon but you weren’t excepting it to come up this soon. “Yes.”

“Yes, what, Mrs. Murdock?” Even though you knew Matt couldn’t see you, the intensity of his words made you shift in your seat.

“I want you to get me pregnant, Matthew Murdock.” Finally saying the words out loud felt so right and gave you the boost of confidence you needed. “Right now, here in your office on your desk and any other flat surface you can think of.”

“C’mere, babe.” Matt patted his lap. You had stopped protesting about being too heavy or big to sit on Matt like his long ago instead choosing to focus your energy on other arguments that you actually had a chance of winning. 

“I love feeling your weight on me like this.” Matt pulled you closer by your thighs and rested his head on your bosom to hear your heartbeat. His hands slipped between your legs and you lifted your hips to give him the space he needed. “You’re so desperate, turned on, and ready for me and I barely even touched you yet.” 

“You’ve just been turning yourself on thinking about me, haven’t you?” He smiled when he felt the silky feeling of your pantyhose on his rough hands. His fingers danced up your thighs until he reached your pussy.

Matt just rested his hand there feeling how hot and wet you were getting. You whimpered, bucking your hips trying to get more of his touch. “I think you need to share. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about in that pretty little brain of yours.”

You thought about last night when it was just you and your vibrator while Matt stayed late at the office. It might have been a cliche but the fantasy never failed to get you off. “I think about when you’re all sweaty from the gym, all those grunts you make. Makes me wish you would just take me on the floor. You take the wraps off your hands to shove you in my mouth to gag me, reminding me to keep quiet since someone could walk in at any moment.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how amazing that mouth of yours is.” Matt continued to cup your pussy, his hand the perfect size to hold you like this. You loved feeling how well the two of you fit together. 

He pulled off your silky pantyhose and pushed your skirt higher above your hips. Matt’s fingers pressed against your panty-clad crotch, chuckling at the wet spot. “Such a good girl getting yourself so wet and ready for my cock. You want me to fuck you on the floor like an animal? Is that what you want? Answer me.”

Matt’s fingers dipped underneath the lace of your panties and into your wetness, rubbing you just the way you liked. “Yes, I want that. I want you to want me so badly you don’t care about the consequences and how wrong it might be.”

Matt pulled his well-coated fingers out of you, wrapping his tongue around the digits. “How the fuck do you always taste so good?”

Matt returned his fingers to your warmth. “Sorry I haven’t been home much last week. You have no idea how irresistible you are when your body is doing everything in it’s power, making you oh so fuckable. I knew once I sunk in that sweet cunt I wouldn’t be able to pull out.”

“I would’ve had to fill you up and breed you.” You didn’t realize you had been grinding yourself on Matt’s fingers until he used his free hand to stop the movement of your hips. “Probably over and over again just to make sure it takes.”

You were so touch starved it didn’t take long for you to get close but Matt pulled his fingers away from you before you could get any closer. While still in the chair, Matt cleared his desk, making space for you. He hitched one of your legs to rest of the top of solid wood desk. Matt pushed his chair away and you were preparing to feel nudge of his cock. Instead, Matt got on his knees pulling your panties completely off, taking a deep inhale of the damp fabric before putting it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

His tongue swiped languidly across your folds, moaning at your taste. “You know I adore how you taste but it’s different when you’re ovulating.”

Your nails dig into the edge of Matt’s desk as you cry out Matt’s name. “Please Matt, I’m so close.”

“C’mon baby, come for me. Gotta make sure this pussy’s nice and relaxed before I impail you with my cock.” Matt flicks his tongue against your clit, making your body shake and thrash before going limp.

Matt gets off his knees, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to free his erection. “You look so pretty all spread out on my desk.”

Matt’s fingers swipe some of the wetness that was dripping from your pussy to the edge of the desk. “Look at the mess you’ve made, baby.”

You heard the wet sounds as Matt used the fluid to fist the shaft of his cock. His hand goes back to your still-sensitive pussy shushing your whimpers as he gathers more of your wetness to coat his dick.

Matt comes up behind you, pressing his throbbing cock against your plush ass. “Matt, please, I need your hard cock inside me.”

Matt leans over you, adjusting himself so his hardness slides between your folds. “You just came and you’re already begging for more.” Matt whispers, in your ear as he plays with your hair. “Such a desperate cock-hungry slut.”

“I’ve thought about this every day since the last time I was inside you. Matt sunk into you slowly, allowing you to feel every inch as he kisses the side of your face.

As Matt went deeper, you whimpered, every time you thought it might be finished Matt had more for you. “I know, baby, I know it’s a stretch.”

“You’re like this every time it’s been a while.” Matt chuckles as you wiggle on the desk, wanting him to start moving. “Stay still, baby, just let me feel this pulsing cunt squeezing me so well.”

“It just can’t wait to milk my cock and take every single drop of my cum.” Matt’s thursts start slowly, his hips slapping against the flush of your ass. “You’re being such a good girl for me. Letting me inside this pussy unprotected when you’re at your most fertile.”

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since we got married.” Matt admitted. “Your dress was beautiful. I know you’re going to say that how would I know since I couldn’t see it. But I just know it was.”

Despite Matt describing one of the sweetest moments in your relationship, he started to go faster.You and Matt had a winter wedding. Your dress was white velvet, long-sleeved, off the shoulder, fitted with lace detail around the neckline and sleeves. When you chose it you made sure to pay attention to the texture and feel of all the different materials. Matt was so appreciative of this when you guided his hand over your body before the reception so he could feel everything.

You could hear the smile in Matt’s voice as he recounted that day. “I could feel the warmth radiating from your bare shoulders and neck. The way you threw your velvet sleeves around my neck when we shared our first kiss as husband and wife. I loved how the fabric clung to your hips. You were almost too beautiful, almost had to have you right there in the church.”

Matt hiked the leg that was on the desk to wrap around his hips, allowing him to go deeper. “Oh fuck, I’m going to get you pregnant.” 

Matt’s movements got more frantic, stimulating your clit on the edge of the desk. “My perfect little wife is going to look so cute with a swollen belly and tits.”

The thought caused your pussy to momentarily tighten around him and there was no way the cheeky bastard didn’t pick that up. “You like that didn’t you? You like the idea of walking around and everyone knowing what I did to you. Complete strangers knowing that I’ve claimed you and you’re mine.”

Matt’s words pushed you over the edge. “Oh fuck. Matt, I’m going to come.”

“Yeah, gorgeous? I’m close too.” Matt grunted as your cunt fluttered around him. He released inside you kissing your neck as warmth overfilled your sensitive cunt. 

Matt hugged you from behind, snuggling his head in your neck. “You did such a good job, taking me so well. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You made noises of agreement and hissed when he pulled out of you. Words felt like they took too much energy right now.

“Did I tire you out?” Matt asked as he helped you off his desk. “I guess I’ll just have to work on building up your stamina again.”

“I’ve been neglecting you and I’m sorry that I haven’t been taking care of you properly.” Matt’s snuggles continued in his chair. “I might have been gotten a bit carried away. If you want me to, I can run down to the pharmacy and pick up the plan B pill.”

“I can’t wait to have your child.” Matt fixed your clothes, wrapped you up in a throw, and helped you into an oversized armchair in the corner of his office. The quiet sounds of Matt working lulling you into an afternoon nap.

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

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[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[pbscore]

Honestly, all cis men should be on board with advocating for and supporting funding that can go towards birth control specifically for them. And this is something that I really don’t think is talked about a lot in a serious and productive way in any social circles, especially among cis/het men.

Genuinely, I think it has less to do with the ignorant takes from radfems/TERFs and certain ‘progressive’ feminists who say out of pocket stuff like ‘sterilize all men’ (bruh…y’all need to unpack the eugenics and racism within that statement pls) and more to do with the fact that most cis/het men are raised with this idea that they have no responsibility or accountability in situations regarding pregnancy and STI prevention when it comes to having sex.

Like, I will always support the idea that the only person who should have the final say on whether or not they want an abortion is the person who’s pregnant. Full stop. They should be the only person to make that final decision, completely free of any coercion from doctors or relatives or the government.

However, I always think it’s silly and dangerous (as we’re currently seeing) to act as though cis/het men should be left out of the conversation regarding contraception and pregnancy, overall, because now a good portion of them really believe that the only way to avoid the possible consequences of sex is to just… ‘uwu not have it’ yet they’d be quite angry if any women around them wouldn’t offer it to them. Many of these men who say these things often have porn blogs and will treat any woman/feminine presenting person as a sex object yet the moment the reality of pregnancy or STIs hits them, they bend over backwards to frame these people as ‘irresponsible sl*ts who should have kept their legs closed’ with no self-awareness whatsoever about their own position in the matter.

Really, all I’m trying to say is that the genuine lack of accurate and inclusive sexual education, especially in regards to how and why our reproductives systems work the way that they do, conversations about consent, boundaries, and rejection, as well as the severe amount of Christian based morality that is imposed on us in regards to whatever genitals we’re born with has lead up to this point we’re seeing in America.

All of the accountability and victim blaming is being tossed at only those with uteruses while cis/het men either act performative about supporting reproductive rights for those sweet ‘male feminist’ validation points OR act with such vitriol towards reproductive rights, with a gaggle of tradwives touting ‘we have uteruses and we have opinions too uwu’ at their feet.

Never having open and honest conversations about the realities of puberty, sexual health and development, consent/boundaries/rejection, and pregnancy and STI prevention without defaulting to black-and-white Christianized morality is exactly what’s leading to this new wave of misogyny, even in the most ‘leftist’ of spaces (literally the whole D*pp vs H*add case is a textbook example of how cishet men can say the most outlandish things and still be looked at with sympathy, even when the evidence is clearly not in his favor).

I’m just holding out hope that we can really start to mobilize and reaffirm actual intersectional feminist thinking that doesn’t fall prey to capitalism like it has been for the past 20 years. There are some harsh realities that need to be talked about in regards to gender inequity and many other social issues that overlap with it that will never see the light of day if we keep giving into this idea that cis/het men ‘can’t handle’ and ‘need to be gently educated’ on basic human anatomy and bodily autonomy for EVERYONE, not just them. The reality is that many of them already know the consequences, they just don’t want to be held accountable for their part in it unless it’s a way of maintaining some sort of control over another person or their own image.

Once this truth is finally talked about in cis/het men’s spaces, that’s when the work to undo so much damage to our perceptions of human relationships can begin. But until that happens, I’m not about to let any of them off the hook for their responsibilities nor will I not hold any of them accountable for their own actions, just like many of them feel a little too comfortable doing to anyone else who isn’t a cis/het man.

[hoglady]

Surprise

Okay, so this is my very first fanfiction!!!! I am both excited and terrified.

Basically I had a dream that was so real and vivid that I decided to write it down. Please be gentle!

Warning: none, fluff

You were together for over four years now. You met at your mutual friend's party and immediately hit it off. A heating argument about Frodo Baggins might be the cause of your chemistry. After the party, you stayed in contact. It was hard at the beginning, as you had a regular office job and he was, of course, traveling due to filming. Nevertheless, you skyped a lot and see each other every possible time you had. After a year you moved in together and after another two he asked the big question. The big wedding was set in 2020 but of course, due to pandemics, you had to reevaluate your plans. You did small home reception with the closest family and friends.

The day before, you arrived to the yacht that Henry rented for a short trip with your friends. He had a break from Witcher filming so you gathered your closest friends and went on yacht for a week to Croatia. Once you arrived to the docks, it was already night so you briefly unpacked and went to the city for a dinner. The evening was warm, sky was clear, you were drinking wine by the sea - perfect paradise.

After the dinner you all came back to the yacht to go to sleep as it was past midnight already.

"Come babe, I want to show you something" Henry said taking your hand. He guided you to the top deck and pointed at the sky. It was the most beautiful view you have ever seen. The clear starry sky, the moon was shining, calm sea and the mountains right next to it.

"Hen it's beautiful!" you stated.

"You're beautiful.." he hugged you from behind and started to kiss your neck.

"Okaaaaay I know what you're doing, mister. I suggest we go back to the cabin so that you can continue with sucking up to me" you turned around and whispered in his ear. You bit his earlobe and started to walk back.

"I got so lucky" Henry mumbled to himself and followed you with a stupid grin on his face.

The night was over before you knew, so you slept in a little bit longer than usual. Henry got up first and went for a short run to the seaside. You woke up happy but tired from the night activities. You were still at the dock as you were going to do small shopping in the morning so that you can go for an all-day cruise. The first couple of hours on the sea always gives you small sea sickness so you were not surprised when sudden nausea hit you. After sorting yourself out you went to the deck to join the rest. You all sat, ate and talk.

"You okay babe? You look pale." Henry whispered to you.

"Yep, just have to get used to the rocking and the waves" you kissed him on the cheek and he squeezed your thigh. After the breakfast, the ladies went to the nearest supermarket for the grocery shopping, as guys stayed on the yacht and started to prepare it for the cruise. Luckily, one of Henry's friend had a boat license so you didn't need any other crew members. While doing the shopping, one thing draw your attention. You bought everything and went back on the yacht. You left the docks and started the cruise between the lovely small Croatian islands.

The day went by so quickly - you were doing short stops for swimming in the sea, sunbathing and just relaxing. The sun has started to decent so the yacht was heading towards another Village to dock for the night. As the air got a bit chilly you went to the cabin to change clothes. As you were going through your clothes, you found the thing that you bought in the morning. The truth is you were feeling a bit tired lately and the nausea you felt this morning gave you a hunch to buy a pregnancy test. You knew Henry was eager to have kids but he didn't pressure you. After the wedding you two just decided to leave it for the faith - he was often gone for a week or two so you both figured to focus on the expanding the family once he will be more at home. You went to the bathroom and do what was instructed on the box.

As you waited for the minutes to pass, you started to imagine having a small replica of Henry. You always wanted a girl so that you can dress her in all the cute clothes but lately, the vision of small Henry running all over the house grew on you. The timer went off so a little bit nervous you looked down on the stick. A wave of joy and tears hit you immediately as you saw two stripes. All you wanted to do is run to Henry and tell him the news. After the minute you actually rethink the whole situation and decided to wait with the news when you two are alone. You dressed warmer and went back to the rest.

"Well someone is happy" Henry smiled at you as you emerged from the door.

"I'm just happy to see you again" you grinned and focused on not being overly excited but inside you were screaming with joy. You made a plan on how to tell Henry good news but you needed another day to go buy something. As the night approached, you all were tired from the active day so you went to your cabins.

"I love having a holiday. We must do it more often." Henry sighed and smiled while lying on the bed relaxed. He was drunk as the guys discovered local beer last night and bought a lot of bottles which were all gone by now. Drunk Henry was even cuter than regular Henry as he got all loving and chill." I love you Y/N. You are like, you know, the love of my life... I miss Kal. Can we call Kal? I'm gonna call Kal." Kal was at Henry's parents as he wouldn't feel good on the boat. It was just past midnight so too late to "call" the dog.

"Hens it's late already, we will call Kal in the morning." you said soothingly taking the phone out of his hand.

"Okay MOM. I think I will sleep now" he mumbled and fell asleep. You laughed at this goof and took off his shoes. You went for a shower and joined him in bed minutes after.

You woke up first, as Henry needed more sleep that morning due to the alcohol absorbed last night. You quickly got up and decided to go buy the thing you wanted to deliver good news. Luckily you were back before he woke up. You joined the girls in preparing the breakfast as the guys were sleeping in.

The day was lazy, your friends went to the nearby beach.

"Henry, do you want to go for a walk to see the village? I want to buy some souvenirs" you asked. You decided you can't wait any longer and wanted to tell him right away.

"Sure. Let's go" he agreed.

As you were walking by the seaside, eventually you wandered to a secluded part of the beach and you decided it is the best moment to tell him.

"Babe, I actually bought you something" you said handing him a striped T-shirt with the writing "Captain Dad reporting for duty". You saw he was confused for a bit but after a split second his eyes went wide.

"Does it... It means... We're having a baby?!" he looked at you with the biggest grin.

"Yes babe, I'm pregnant!" He momentarily scooped you into his arms and kissed you mumbling "I love you" in-between kisses.

"I didn't want to tell you on the boat. I don't think we should tell people yet." you two were standing in an embrace and grinning towards each other.

"How long have you known?"

"I did the test yesterday. So first let's go see the doctor once we're back and then we will tell, okay?" you asked.

"I will try to hide my excitement, although it might be quite hard" he agreed and kissed you once again.

You continue your stroll talking about the baby, laughing, kissing and smiling.

"You know what, I think we must go back to the boat. I need to specifically express my excitement and gratitude in the dim light of our cabin." Henry said giving you a quick slap on your ass. You loved this dork. And oh did he show his excitement alright that night.

[wayward-dreamer]

Something Wonderful

Part 2 to Something Unexpected. Read it first, here.

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 5,124

Warnings: Angst, fighting, crying, insecurities. Swearing, making up, make up sex. Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it, people!), dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), pregnancy kink. Fluffy ending. 18+ ONLY!

Summary: Dean and Y/N have been together for a few months now. Despite that, there’s still tension between them. Y/N has been pushing him away and Dean’s sick of it. When he tries to find out what’s wrong, some things are said that aren’t meant. Later when they try to fix things, Dean finds out what Y/N has been keeping from him and why she’s been pushing him away in the process.

Based on this request from @flamencodiva: Request for a sequel to something unexpected. So, even though they are together, Dean and the reader still have their heated moments. Except one day the heated moment goes too far only for Dean to find out there is a nice surprise that the reader has been scared to tell him and she's been pushing him away.

A/N: Here’s part 2 to Something Unexpected! I hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate feedback, so don’t be shy to share your thoughts! :)

Y/N sat in her car, her head leaning back against the headrest. She had pulled over onto the side of the road, just a few minutes away from the dirt road that led to the bunker. She just needed some space before she got there. Before she had to face Dean and the inevitable.

It had been 6 months since that night in the motel, the night they made a shift from what they thought was hating each other but was actually much more than that. The morning after they had both promised to see where this thing between them would go, and to say that it’d been smooth sailing since then would’ve been a big overstatement.

In fact, this was the first time she was headed back to the bunker in two months. She and Dean had had a stupid fight about her hunting alone, and yelling had led to her storming out and never coming back. They had apologized to each other on the phone after a few hours, but she told him she needed space for a while. He had messaged her almost every day since then, trying to make amends, but she had mostly ignored the messages.

Y/N knew she was pushing him away, and she knew she had so much to tell him, especially something she had found out and didn’t even know how to tell him. She just didn’t know how to face him. She knew as soon as she told him what she needed to, that it was going to be over. She’d been on her own, with nowhere to go.

She had to go. She couldn’t keep him in the dark any longer than she already had. She had been in contact with Sam, letting him know a few days ago that she was coming to the bunker as soon as she could.

Y/N started the car up again and pulled out onto the road. She drove for a few more minutes, before she came to the turning. She drove down the dirt road slowly, so that little rocks wouldn’t dent her car. Soon, she was at the old factory and brought the car to a stop. She cut the engine and opened the door, getting out of the car. Walking over to the trunk, she opened it and took out her duffle bag. Slinging it over shoulder, she closed the trunk and locked the car. She walked over to the steps and walked down, pulling the big door opened. Sam had told her he’d leave it open for her. She shut it behind her and then walked down the spiral steps, opening the door to the bunker.

Y/N smiled as she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the war room and into the library. She really did love this place. She remembered how giddy she was to see it the first time. She couldn’t stop talking and wanting to know more about it, and spent the entire day just going from room to room, wanting to see everything.

There was no sign of the boys, and considering it was 11am, they were probably in the kitchen. Just as she walked down the stairs, however, they both walked in.

“I thought I heard the door” Sam smiled, immediately enveloping her in a hug.

“Hey” she giggled, patting his back. Over his shoulder, she saw Dean. His jaw was tight, as he tried to avoid eye contact with her.

When Sam let go, she tentatively walked over to Dean. “Hey.”

He looked at her, and tried to remain stoic, but his eyes probably gave away how much he missed her. He had been hating himself for the way he left things the last time she was here.

“Hey” his gravelly voice replied.

“We had a late start, and just started breakfast. Well, brunch now. You hungry?” Sam asked, breaking the tension.

Her stomach turned at the thought of food. “No, I’m good, I think I’ll just settle in. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out” Sam smiled.

Y/N nodded and walked out of the room, with a small glance at Dean. There was an awkwardness between them now, and she knew she had to work hard for it to go away. She couldn’t stand for this to be the norm for them now.

She made her way to Dean’s room and stopped. He would be absolutely crushed if she didn’t put her stuff there, but if things didn’t go right after they eventually talked, she would need somewhere else to clear her head. She walked past the room and turned the corner, seeing the door to room 16 open. She walked in there and turned on the light, finding it clean and completely bare apart from the bed, desk and leather sofa against the brick wall. She dumped her bag on the bed and then walked out of the room. She would unpack later.

Y/N walked into the kitchen, and Dean immediately looked up at her from his food. She gave him a small smile as she walked over to the table and sat down across from him, next to Sam. The smell of bacon in the kitchen made her want to throw up, but she had to push through that feeling.

“I took 16, I hope that’s okay” she said, avoiding Dean’s hurt gaze.

Sam looked between her and his brother, before he tentatively smiled. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“So, how have things been?” she asked him.

Sam sipped his coffee, giving a small nod. “Alright, for the most part. Cases haven’t been coming up too frequently to get exhausting, so we’d had some down time.”

“That’s great” she smiled, quickly glancing at Dean.

He just chewed on his bacon and said nothing.

“What about you?” Sam asked in return.

“A lot busier than you guys. I helped a couple hunters out on a werewolf case, we all split up when they started moving. I ended up tracking three all the way to the Catskills” she replied, rolling her eyes as remembered how tired she had been after that.

“Damn” Sam shook his head. “You get them all?”

“Yeah, though it felt like we wouldn’t for a while” she said.

An awkward silence fell between them. As she looked over at Dean, she knew she needed to do something to get him back into a better mood.

“So…” she broke the silence. “Should we watch a movie tonight?”

Dean looked up, his hard expression dropping slightly. “Sure.”

“I was thinking Unforgiven. I mean, I still haven’t seen it” she smiled, knowingly.

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows raised, as a small smile appeared.

“Yeah” she shrugged. “Why not?”

He smirked at her; the awkward tension had dropped.

“I should get snacks, more beer” he said, getting up and practically running out of the kitchen.

She laughed as he came back, picked up the remaining bacon from his plate and then ran off again.

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle either. “You just made him very happy.”

“I was hoping it would put a smile on his face” she turned to Sam, smiling.

“You know…” he turned to face her. “You guys are gonna be okay.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know. I mean, we still have a lot to talk about. There’s… something I have to tell him. I just have no idea know” she dropped her head into her hands, combing them through her hair.

“Y/N, whatever it is… just tell him. All Dean ever wants is the truth, so just be honest with him” Sam told her.

“I will. Later. I just don’t want to burst his good mood yet” she nodded, looking up at him. “He’s such a child sometimes” she shook her head, with a laugh.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, good thing he doesn’t have any.”

Y/N’s laugh quickly ended as she took in what Sam just said. She frowned, wondering what he meant by what he said. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know or not, but the question was on her lips before she could think about it.

“What do you mean?” She turned to him, trying to keep calm.

Sam realised what that probably sounded like, so he shook his head and didn’t say anything.

“Sam…” she trailed off, letting him know she wasn’t letting it go.

Sam sighed, trying to think of what to say. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s great with kids on cases. I just know that he doesn’t want any of his own. Not because he wouldn’t be good at it, because I know that he would. He knows it too. He just wouldn’t want to bring a kid into this life. He knows he can’t leave it and there’s no way he could bring a kid into it, so he just…” he explained, as gently as he could.

She nodded. She got the answer she didn’t want.

Sam looked down at her, feeling awful. He knew he had hit a nerve. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you. You just need to know our reality.”

“I know, Sam. It’s okay. Really. I get it, you know? I’m a hunter, so I understand” She quickly stood up, trying to hide her sadness. “Please don’t tell Dean about this.”

“Y/N…” he called out but she had already left the room.

Dean was going to kill him when he found out what he had said. He had really stepped in it this time.

Y/N rushed into the bedroom she was using and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against the door and let the tears fall down her face. She had to leave. There was no way she could tell Dean what she needed to, not now after what Sam told her. She couldn’t be angry at him; she was somewhat glad to know how Dean felt, but now it put their future in jeopardy. Could he really be with her now if he knew what she’d been hiding?

Her head started to ache. She needed to lie down. Maybe by the time Dean got back and she had rested, things would be clearer on what she should do. She could only hope.

-x-

Sam walked into the Dean cave, a six pack of beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. Dean walked in behind him, a couple of blankets in hand. He knew Y/N got cold and didn’t want her to be while they were watching the movie.

“She up yet?” he asked, having walked in on her earlier to find her sleeping.

It had hurt him to know she didn’t want to stay with him in his room, but he wanted to respect her space.

“No, not yet” Sam replied. “Does she seem… really tired to you?”

Dean unfolded one of the blankets and laid it out on the couch. “Yeah. Sounds like she’s been going non-stop on cases.”

“When are you gonna talk to her?” Sam wondered, as he placed everything on the coffee table.

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. He opened them and glared at Sam. “I’ll talk to her when she’s ready, okay? Can we just have one good night?”

Sam threw his hands up in surrender. He contemplated telling his brother what he said to Y/N, but she had asked him not to.

“I’m gonna go get her” Dean said, leaving the room.

Dean walked down the hallway to the room she was staying in. He really hoped that they could have some fun before having to deal with everything between them. He was scared to talk with her. She had been pushing him away, refusing to answer his messages for the last couple months, apart from a small ‘hi’ or ‘I’m fine’. He just hoped that she wasn’t leaving him; he knew he’d never be able to handle that. Usually he was the one to distance himself from others, but now that it was happening to him, it really felt like crap.

Dean knocked lightly on her door and waited. The door opened slowly, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern when he saw Y/N looking really run down. She had been crying, it was evident from the redness and puffiness of her eyes.

“Hey” he spoke softly. “We’re gonna start the movie when you’re ready.”

She sniffed, trying to smile. “I’m actually gonna take a raincheck. Is that okay?”

Dean didn’t say anything as his concern morphed into frustration.

“Dean…” she sighed as she looked at him. “I know we have to talk…”

“Yeah, we do” he cut her off. “In fact, now’s a good time.”

He walked past her and into the room. She turned around to face him. She didn’t know how to start, as she looked at her feet and avoided his gaze.

“Look… I know that we really got into it last time you were here, but Y/N… I told you I was sorry. I thought things were okay after that, but you didn’t even bother to tell what was going on. I know a little something about pushing people away, and I can tell you’re doing it to me, but it ends now” his voice low and gravelly, trying to keep his anger at bay.

“I didn’t mean to” she spoke quietly, not trusting her own voice. “I just needed some space.”

“And I gave it you, sweetheart. I did… but there’s no telling when 2 months becomes longer” he said, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t going to let it go on more than this, Dean. I wouldn’t do that to you” she told him, closing her eyes.

“Really?” he scoffed. He hated the way it sounded, but he had a right to be angry. “You wanted your space, Y/N. God knows you could’ve taken longer than this.”

She shook her head, glaring at him. “You know… you said you were going to try your hardest to make this work. Making this work means letting me handle the things I need to on my own time.”

“No one said you couldn’t Y/N!” he yelled, suddenly. “But not bothering to send me a proper fucking text for 2 months is bullshit!”

She could feel the anger rise up in her. “If you can’t let me handle things my own way then maybe I shouldn’t be here!”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t!” he yelled.

An ugly silence fell between them as they stared at each other. How had things escalated to that?

“Y/N, I… didn’t mean that-” he started but she cut him off.

“You’ve said enough, Dean” her voice soft, but loud enough for him to hear.

Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach as tears fell down her face.

“Sweetheart” he said, softly as he tried to approach her.

She stepped back, not letting him touch her. She glared at him, her eyes glistening.

“Please” she whispered. “Just go.”

Dean didn’t say anything else. He knew he had said the one thing that was the final nail in the coffin. He nodded, turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. It was over and she was going to leave. Once again, he had ruined things. She was the best thing to happen to him and now he didn’t have her anymore.

Yet another thing to hate himself for.

-x-

Y/N tossed and turned in bed, trying to get to sleep but failing. There were too many thoughts floating around in her head. Dean must’ve thought she had left by now, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave him. Not now, not ever. None of this was his fault, what he said was just his frustration at being cast aside for months by her. They were both stubborn and said stupid things, but it was nothing to end what they had over. Especially since she had something she needed to tell him.

She looked at the time on her phone, seeing that it was just after 1am. She threw back the covers and picked up her robe. She stood up and wrapped it around herself, tying it. She opened the door and walked out of the room, the cold floors of the hallway like ice to her warm feet. She walked down the hallway on her tiptoes, trying to avoid the icy floors as much as she could.

Y/N stopped in front of Dean’s room, staring at the gold 11 on the door. She didn’t know whether to knock or go in. Dean didn’t sleep much, but since they had gotten together his sleep pattern had certainly gotten better. She decided to take a chance and just go in. She took hold of the doorknob and turned it, slowly cracking the door open. The light was on and as she walked in, she saw Dean sitting on his bed, still in his shirts and jeans. He had his phone in his hand, and looked up when she walked in.

Dean was shocked to see Y/N there. He was certain she had left by now. The fact that she hadn’t, though, hopefully meant that she didn’t want to leave. He stood up from the bed and watched as she looked at him and twisted her fingers, a nervous gesture she had.

“Thought you would’ve made a run for it by now” he tried to joke but she could see the pain in his eyes.

She didn’t think twice about it as she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Dean wrapped his tight around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground. She buried her face in his neck, taking in the smell of leather, car oil and his after shave.

“I don’t want to leave you” she mumbled into his neck.

Dean sighed; a weight lifted off his chest as she said that. “I don’t either, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, tears gathering in her eyes. “I… I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Shh” he calmed her down, his lips against her hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Dean, I… I have to tell you something but… I don’t know how” she cried, burying her face deeper into his neck.

“Whatever it is… we’ll deal with it, okay?” he said, moving his head so he could look down into her eyes.

“I’m so scared” she shook her head, closing her eyes.

He gently lowered her but kept his arms around her. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“I can’t” she sobbed. “I know… I know you don’t want this-”

Dean swiped his thumbs across her cheeks to rid them of her tears, as he cupped her face. “Don’t want what, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him, her arms coming down to press her hands against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’m pregnant” she said, sniffling. “I took two tests… both positive.”

Dean felt the air had been knocked out of him completely. She was pregnant. They were having a baby. How? How did this happen? He knew how, obviously, but… how? He looked down at Y/N, a million questions running through his head, but one stuck out the most. Did she really think he wouldn’t want this? That he wouldn’t want her?

“Dean” she said, quietly. “Please say something.”

She was so scared that he was about to tell her he wanted her to leave. Where would she even go while being pregnant?

“I…” Dean started but trailed off. He was trying to process everything.

“I know that isn’t something you wanted, it’s a complete surprise and there’s no way that we can do this. If you want, then I can make an appointment-” she told him, but he cut her off.

“No” he blurted out. “No.” As soon as the word appointment came out of her mouth, he knew what she was implying. That’s not what he wanted.

He leaned down quickly, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N was shocked at first but kissed him back. When he pulled away, there was a small smile on his face. She looked at him curiously, as his eyes became watery.

“Why… why would you think I wouldn’t want this?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “Do you… do you not want this? I’ll respect your decision, if you don’t.”

“I do. I do want this. I just thought… you know what? Never mind” she muttered. “You’re… really okay with this?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

He nodded, suddenly too overwhelmed to speak. He looked down, smiling as he looked at her stomach. It wasn’t round yet, but tears gathered in his eyes as he thought about how it would be soon. She smiled as she witnessed his rare display of heavy emotion.

“This is why you weren’t talking to me” he stated.

She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, a tear finally escaping as he looked at her. “That doesn’t matter now.”

Dean leaned down, kissing her deeply. Their lips against each other’s, as Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck again. He untied her robe, pulling her closer to his body. He could feel her nipples straining against the fabric, on his chest.

She hummed into his mouth, pulling away and smiling at him. “Dean, fuck me. It’s been two months… I need you.”

She went in for another kiss, but he stopped her, suddenly looking scared. “What?”

“I’m not gonna hurt the baby, am I?” he asked, his eyes wide.

She laughed a little, finding him adorable in that moment. “No, you won’t hurt the baby. It’s still really small right now.”

“But what if-” he started but she cut him off with a searing kiss.

“Dean, stop. This is the first time I’m not feeling sick and surprisingly horny at this stage. Please fuck me.”

She grabbed him by his plaid shirt and pulled him in, kissing him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers immediately finding their way into his hair.

“Okay, shutting up now” he muttered against her lips.

She laughed as she went back to kissing him.

Dean pushed her robe off her shoulders as he walked them towards the bed. He carefully laid her back, holding himself up above her. He took off his plaid shirt and then reached for her black tank top. He pulled it up and threw it somewhere in the room. She laid back down, a groan escaping him as he saw her bare chest, her nipples hard from the chill in the room. His hands moved down her body, reaching for her shorts. He took hold of the waistband, pulling them down her legs. He dropped them to the floor as his hands moved over her smooth legs. He reached for her lacy panties, pulling them down and tossing them over his shoulder. He leaned down, kissed her softly.

Dean kissed along her jaw, nipping softly. His lips travelled down to neck, nipping and sucking softly at the skin. She gasped as he continued down her chest, laying a kiss on each breast. He shifted down as he continued to plant kisses along her body, stopping at her stomach. He leaned his head against it, a small smile playing on his face as he thought about the life growing inside her. He pressed his lips to her stomach, and a tear fell down Y/N’s cheek as she smiled, overwhelmed by what she was feeling.

He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders, his hands moving under her to cup her ass and bring her in closer. He pressed his lips to her pussy, feeling how wet she was already. He swiped his tongue along her folds, his eyes closed as he tasted her. She let out a small moan, gripping his hair in her hands. His lips sucked at her clit, as his tongue flicked over the bundle of nerves.

“Dean, fuck” she moaned.

He pulled back a little, his tongue at her entrance. He licked her folds as he felt her get wetter.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so damn good” he groaned.

He continued to pleasure her, his tongue softly thrusting into her entrance. He moaned, the sounds he made as he ate her out vibrating against her.

“Dean” she gasped. “Your mouth, oh fuck. Your tongue feels so good inside me.”

He looked up at her, smirking against her as he saw her eyes closed, mouth open because of the pleasure she was feeling.

His tongue sped up, driving deeper inside of her.

“Oh, Dean! Fuck yeah!” she yelled, gripping his hair even tighter.

It was amazing how much he could make her feel using just his tongue, but in that moment, she needed more.

“Dean, I… fuck me. Please” she begged. “I need you inside me.”

Dean moved away from her, as he carefully dropped her legs to the bed. He stood up and reached for his black shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He dropped it to the floor as he reached for his jeans, making quick work of getting rid of them. His cock was hard, the tip leaking pre-cum as he helped her shift back on the bed, her head resting on the pillow. He leaned in and kissed her, lovingly as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She could taste herself on his mouth as she cupped his face and brought him in closer. He lined his cock up to her entrance, slightly hesitant.

“You sure?” he asked against her lips, one more time.

“Yes, Dean. It’s okay” Y/N replied, softly as she looked into his eyes.

Dean thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock through her folds. He slid all the way in, causing Y/N to throw her head back against the pillow. He slowly pulled out before he thrust back in, setting a slow pace. He set a moderate pace, but his thrusts were hard, intense. Her hips met his as she matched his pace, the intensity getting to both of them. She broke their kiss, gasping into his mouth. Dean looked into her eyes, as dark as his, and glanced down her body.

“Fuck, babe you’re so damn gorgeous. Can’t wait to see you all full and round. So fucking hot” he groaned, as he continued to thrust into her at a moderate pace.

“Oh fuck” she moaned. His words always made her crazy.

Dean sat up on his knees, pulling her up to sit on his lap with her legs wrapped around him. Their foreheads pressed together as they continued to make love.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, gonna be even more beautiful with our baby inside you” he muttered, his eyes shiny as he gazed into hers.

“Shit” she gasped. “Dean, your cock feels so fucking good.”

“Your pussy’s so fucking wet for me, baby, taking my cock so good” he whispered, knowing it drove her crazy when he dropped his voice.

He thrust up a little harder, causing her to moan loudly and pull his hair. “Ah, Dean! Fuck, yeah, right there!”

She could feel the band in her stomach getting tighter, as her thrusts started to falter.

“You’re close, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he smirked, pecking her lips.

“Yeah” she panted.

“I want you to cum with me, Y/N. Cum on my cock while I fill you up” he grunted, as his thrusts became more erratic.

The pressure built up inside her, as her walls clenched around his cock.

“Dean, oh my god!” she yelled. “Fuck, Dean. I’m cumming!”

Her eyes closed tight as she came hard on his cock, feeling it slick his shaft and her inner thighs.

“Fuck, Y/N” he grunted as he spilled inside her.

They held onto each other, breathing heavily. Dean slowly laid Y/N back, her head on the pillow. He slowly pulled out of her, seeing his cum spill out of her. He looked down at her and frowned, seeing her cheeks wet. Her eyes were closed but he could see tears rolling down her face. He reached up and wiped her cheeks, her eyes opening to show them glistening.

“Hey” he whispered. “What’s wrong?” He laid down on his side next to her, stroking her cheek.

She shook her head, trying to smile. “Nothing. Oh god, I’m so stupid. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, something’s going on in that pretty little head of yours” he smiled softly, only slightly reassured that everything was okay.

“I just… that was amazing” she said, stroking his cheek. “You’re amazing.”

He shook his head, as his hand travelled down from her cheek and laid on her flat stomach. “Pretty sure you’re the amazing one.”

“I… I’m sorry for pushing you away” she said, her teary eyes looking up at him.

“You don’t have to say sorry, sweetheart. Not to me” he smirked, leaning down to peck her lips. “You’re gonna make me a dad, which is something I never thought I’d get to be. That blows everything else out of the water.”

She cupped his jaw and pulled him in, kissing him deeper. She pulled away, running her thumb along his jaw.

“I can’t wait for you to be all cute and round” he smirked.

“Shut up” she nudged his jaw, playfully as she smiled up at him. “I’m sure you’re excited for me to be at the super horny stage, too.”

“Fuck yeah, I am” he wagged his eyebrows at her with a smirk.

She laughed at him before a peaceful silence fell between them.

“We’re having a baby” she smiled.

“We’re having a baby” he nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “We’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

He meant it. He would protect her and the baby until his dying breath if it came to that.

“I know we will” she whispered. “I love you.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, too” he whispered against her lips.

Y/N ran her hand through Dean’s hair and brought him down, kissing him, passionately. Dean wrapped her arms around her, pulling her closer. It had taken a long time for them to get to this place, but they were both finally on the same page. They were about to start a new adventure together, something they both thought would never happen for them with the lives they lead. There was so much to talk about, in terms of what they would do about hunting and working around doctor’s appointments, but they would deal with all of that soon.

In that moment, they were celebrating their love for each other and their love for their baby.

In that moment… that was all that mattered.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict​ 

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Angela’s “Baby Shower” - a The Rookie Fanfic

At 35 weeks pregnant Angela was over it. She was sick of always having to run to the bathroom.  She was done with the fogginess in her brain interfering with her work. She was over the sore back and hips and feet that came from carrying an extra 30 pounds in her abdomen and she was tired of being so tired after being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. But mostly she just no longer wanted to feel so different. She hated being too exhausted to go out with her friends after shift and even if she was feeling up for it she always had to get water while everyone else got their cocktail of choice. She was frustrated at being unable to bend down easily when investigating crime scenes and having to rely on others to find all the evidence. She also disliked the attention she got because of her pregnancy. Everybody always seemed to be looking at her belly, asking her when she was due, how she was doing and cooing about the joys of parenthood. She was excited about the baby and couldn’t wait to meet her little bundle of joy but she also craved normalcy, to just feel like herself and be a part of the group instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. So when Wesley pitched the idea of a baby shower to celebrate her and their little one, yet to be born, she vetoed that idea fast and hard. When she shared her reasoning her Fiancé nodded.

“I understand where your coming from but you actually gave me a really good idea for a baby shower that I’m sure you’ll love. Do you trust me?” he asked.

She had nodded and agreed to let him throw her a baby shower with the caveat that she could pull the plug at anytime.

Which brought them to the day of the baby shower, a Saturday, two weeks later.  

Wesley had kept the entire thing a surprise so Angela was thoroughly confused as she watched him unpack a number of crates and garbage bags from the truck and bring them into the downtown park where she sat.

“What is all this?” She asked. 

“You’ll see,” he replied giving her a wink. “Once everyone gets here.”

20 minutes later everyone was there. Lucy, Jackson, Tim, Nolan, and Harper. Grey wanted to come but had to work.

“Welcome everyone,” Wes announced, “today we will be competing to see who is the most badass pregnant person.” At this point everyone including Angela was looking at Wesley like he had grown a second head but he pushed on. “There will be three challenges: an escape room, laser tag and a contraction simulator and you will be divided into two teams. Angela as our guest of honour you get to pick your two teammates.”

“Nyla and Lucy,” Angela said immediately. She still didn’t really understand what they were doing but she had the feeling girl power was the way to victory.

Lucy and Harper excitedly moved over to Angela, giving each other high fives.

“Guess that means we’re a team,” Nolan said draping his arms around Jackson and Tim’s shoulders.

“Great,” Tim replied rolling his eyes. Angela wasn’t sure if he was mad because she didn’t choose him or because he wasn’t on the same team as Lucy either way she was looking forward to kicking his butt.

“OK now the last thing to do before we start the competition is to pregnify everyone,” Wesley stated.

“I feel like I should make some sort of joke about how babies are made but I think I’ll wait to see where you’re going with this,” Nolan offered.

“First everyone put one of these on,” Wesley said as he reached into a garbage bag and brought out a handful of wrap baby carriers which he handed out. Once everybody had theirs on he opened the lids of several storage containers.

“Now everyone, come grab a balloon and put them in your carrier.”

“Wow these are heavier than I expected. What’s in them?” Jackson asked as he lifted a balloon out of the tub.

“They’re full of water and some sand,” Wesley answered, “and they each way exactly 30 lbs, the average amount of weight gained in pregnancy. I weighed them myself.”

“Is that why you asked me where the scale was the other night?” Angela asked

Wesley confirmed before moving on. “Next everyone grab a hoodie to put over your bundle of joy,” he said opening another garbage bag.

“It’s at least 80 degrees we don’t need hoodies,” Tim complained.

“It’s to replicate the heat generated by a growing baby,” Wesley replied, “plus I had a lot of fun with them.”

Tim rolled his eyes but obediently put on the last hoodie.

All the hoodies were bright neon colours (Lucy pink, Harper purple, Jackson green, Nolan yellow and Tim blue) and had pregnancy announcements written on the front in thick black letters: ‘Baby on Board’, ‘Coming summer 2021’, ‘Eating for two’, etc. 

“There’s one for you too if you want it Ange, but you don’t have to wear it,” Wesley said. “Now the last thing, well things,” he added bringing out a bottle of Benadryl and stack of medicine cups, “since I can’t give you brain fog I’m just going to make you drowsy. Everybody take a medicine cup and wash it down with one of these,” he said opening a cooler lid to reveal a stack of 1L water bottles, “the whole thing.”

“I’m going to have to pee so bad,” Lucy joked as she started to drink her water.

“That’s the idea,” Wesley replied.

They spent the next 20 minutes finishing their waters, waiting for the Benadryl to kick in and admiring their new ‘bellies’.

Angela laughed as Jackson yelled “belly bump,” while running then jumping towards Lucy who met him in the air before the force knocked them both off their feet. She laughed even harder watching them try and fail to get up on their own until Wesley came to help them. She happily accepted a belly bum from Jackson once he had taken them down a notch (or several) as did everyone else but Nolan who was excessively protecting his fake fetus, shielding his stomach with his arms and body whenever anybody approached. Angela watched her friends, thoroughly entertained by their antics. She was especially enjoying the effect a visibly pregnant Lucy was having on Tim.  He was constantly stealing glances at her and when she smoothed her hoodie over her stomach and asked him how she looked his cheeks flushed and Angela was pretty sure she heard him stutter. This was confirmed by Nyla who had come up beside her and after a quick poke at Tim started reminiscing about her own pregnancy with Lila, which got the two woman talking and comparing notes. She was vaguely aware of Lucy who had taken her phone out and was now taking pictures and videos of everybody but didn’t fully turn her attention back to the others until Wesley said it was time for the first challenge: the escape room.

They walked to the escape room place which was only about a block away with minimal whining and a lot of perplexed looks from passers by. Once they got there they split into their teams and went to their respective rooms. The girls’ room was sorcerer’s lair themed and overall they got through it pretty smoothly. They had a few bumps in the road: by 20 minutes in they were all crossing their legs trying to hold their pee, Lucy fell asleep once while sitting at a table trying to decode a message and Nyla debated trying to use one of the magic wands in their room to pop her balloon. “Now I remember why I only had one. This was not easy,” she said as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. But overall they worked together really well and had a lot of fun just talking about anything and everything as they solved all the puzzles and escaped the room. 

 When the girls were done, after a quick trip to the bathroom, they joined Wesley in the control booth to watch the guys via video and they seemed to be having a much harder time.  Jackson was trying to decode the message Lucy had but was becoming visibly more and more frustrated as he rubbed his temples and verbally demanded and pleaded with his brain to work. Nolan was trying to bend down to open a trap door (Angela had opened theirs with a broom handle) but couldn’t quite reach it without nearly falling over. After many failed attempts he eventually used the chair as a support bar to lower himself to the ground then push himself back up once the door was open. Meanwhile Tim kept swearing under his breath as he accidentally knocked various things off shelves and tables with his fake belly when he forgot how far out it reached. Luckily one of the things he knocked off opened when it hit the floor to reveal a key they needed to escape the room, which Nolan was able to retrieve with his new chair technique. Shortly after, Jackson succeeded in decoding his clue and from there they proceeded to finish the room pretty quickly and easily.

After another bathroom break they headed to the food trucks for a quick lunch where they mostly sat in content silence as everyone happily shovelled food into their mouths. This silence was only punctuated by the occasional comment that was either gloating or trash talk or by Tim barking “What are you looking at?” at people eyeing the group.

Next they headed to laser tag. Which Wesley had booked privately, so they had the whole place to themselves. The rules were simple every time you shot a member of the opposing team your team earned a point. First team to 30 won. Everybody seemed to have a good time. Angela laughed at her friends as they tried to sneak up on or out run each other, both techniques that were being significantly impacted by their fake pregnancies. Nolan at one point declared that the more aggressively you waddled the faster you could go and spent the rest of the game darting around like a mad penguin. He was ultimately successful in getting 6 points for his team using this technique which was significantly more than the 1 point he got before implementing it. Jackson on the other hand found a good hiding place in a high traffic area and would shoot the opposing team anytime they came by. Although initially this strategy was very successful and he quickly racked up 10 points, once the ladies realized their vests always lit up red when they passed that area they made a plan and were able to all find and corner him in his hiding spot. By the time he got away they had got 10 points themselves. Tim tried to use a lot of the same techniques he used at work or at paintball but unfortunately for him, although  they were efficient Lucy knew all of them and was able to use that knowledge to her advantage. The girls took a different approach and worked more as a team. They used some techniques from work and also had fun designing and implementing crazy plans, including one of them acting as bait to lure the guys in and the other two blind-siding them. When all was said and done the guys won 30-29. The girls attributed this to Tim and Nolan’s height advantage. They were able to see over all the obstacles but it could also be that the girls were having a little to much fun making elaborate plans that weren’t necessarily the most practical (the gun tricks looked cool but significantly decreased their shooting accuracy). Nonetheless, Angela had the greatest total points with 16. 

Following laser tag everybody was really happy but also extremely exhausted and they outright refused to walk the ten minutes back to the park despite the fact that because they were downtown it would take twice as long to drive their in traffic. While everybody went pee again Wesley walked back and brought the van. 

“I call middle row,” Harper yelled as Wesley pulled into the parking lot. 

“Me too,” West added. 

Angela took the passenger seat which left Nolan, Lucy and Tim to squeeze into the back row. Because Lucy was the smallest she was forced to take the middle seat but it didn’t seem to matter to her as she fell asleep almost immediately and spent the 20 minute ride leaning against Tim, head on his shoulder. They woke her up once they were back at the park but only after they had taken a couple pictures. 

Once they all got out of the van Wesley told them they could take off their hoodies and fake bellies. Tim and  Nyla quickly took off their stuff and helped Wesley set up for the labour simulation. Meanwhile the three newly minted P2’s goofed around. Nolan pretended to be giving birth taking quick breaths and squeezing Lucy’s hand as he pushed his balloon out the bottom of the carrier where Jackson caught it. Then working together the three of them lifted the balloon above their heads and belted out ‘The Circle of Life.’ Following the end of their song they too quickly shed their layers then went to join the rest of the group gathered in front of a folding beach chair that had been set up. 

“Alright everyone welcome to the final and tie-breaking event,” Wesley announced.

“Tied?” Angela questioned. “We beat the guys by at least half an hour in the escape room and they only beat us by one point at laser tag. We are winning.” 

“That’s not how this works babe. But don’t worry because you will be sitting this one out because you have to go through real labor in a couple weeks, I will be taking your spot and I will make sure your team wins.”

“You better,” Angela replied teasingly.

“Alright this is the labour simulator,” Wesley explained holding up a small device, “We stick these electrodes to your stomach and this machine will deliver electricity which will result in fake contracts that range in intensity from 1-10,” he pointed to a dial on the machine. “According to the instruction book 1 is like mild period cramps, 4 is Braxton-Hicks contractions, 8 is full blown labour and 10 is just full blown torture. Whichever team can tolerate the highest combined score wins. Oh and tolerate means experience that setting for at least ten seconds without ripping the leads off your body. Any questions?” When everybody shook their heads he continued. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,“ Jackson offered making his way to the chair. Wesley stuck the electrodes to his abdomen then he was ready to go. 

He jumped initially on the first setting since he had no idea what to expect but after that he was pretty calm just clenching his jaw as the pain was increased. That is until he got to 6.

“Can I hold somebody’s hand?” he asked, “That’s a thing, right?”

Both Lucy and Nolan immediately stood up.

“How about two hands,” Nolan suggested seeing this.

“Even better,” Jackson replied intertwining his left hand with Nolan’s and his right with Lucy’s. 

This was enough to get him through 7 and 8 as he channeled all his pain into his friends, crushing their hands, but one second into 9 and he immediately pulled the leads off.

“Great job Jackson,” Wesley said as everyone patted him on the back, “Who’s next.”

Lucy went next and didn’t so much as flinch until 5 at which point she decided she was going to try meditation. This helped her through 6 and 7 at which point she too wanted hands to squish. Although both Jackson and Nolan offered, Lucy’ teammates decided it was their job. Between crushing her friends hands and focusing on her breathing she got through 8 rather easily. She clearly struggled more with 9. Jackson, Nolan and Wes were counting down. “Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven,” Angela felt Lucy’s grip loosen in her own. She was going to pull off the leads that is until Tim spoke up, “Come on Chen. You’ve got this. You’re strong,” he said and Lucy’s grip tightened back around Angela’s. “Three, Two, One, Done.” Everybody cheered as Lucy released her team mates hands and opened her eyes. “Sorry team but that’s enough for me I’m not trying 10,” she said as she removed the electrodes from her stomach.

“You did great,” Angela said and patted Lucy’s shoulder.

Tim went next. Rather than closing his eyes he fixed his glare on the machine in Wesley’s hand as if he could intimidate it in to giving up.  He also refused to hold anyone’s hand and instead gripped the armrests of the chair. By the time he got to 8 he was gripping so hard he broke the arm of the chair but still some how managed to maintain a near neutral expression throughout the entire experience. At this point Lucy insisted on holding the hand that had broken the chair. When he pointed out that he was worried he would hurt her she stubbornly grabbed his hand in both of hers, “I’m strong, remember.” With Lucy’s help Tim too made it through 9 and like his former rookie decided to end it there.

Harper went next. Although she was clearly in pain she was able to do 10 by focusing on her breathing, holding her friends hands and thinking about Lila. 

“How did you do that?” Jackson asked awe in his voice.

“When I was in labour with Lila I had contractions that were at least the intensity of 8 that lasted a minute each for like eight hours. One ten second one is a piece of cake.”

“You didn’t have an epidural?” Nolan asked

Harper shook her head, “I was being stubborn. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.”

“You’re very impressive, but I have nothing to prove to anyone. I’m getting an epidural,” Angela offered. 

“You do what’s right for you,” Nyla replied patting her friend on the back, “ You’re going to do great.”

Nolan went next. He was practically jumping out of the chair by the time it got to 6 and at 7 he was writhing around so much he actually managed to tip the chair over. The fact that he ended up in a tangled mess on the ground was probably the only reason he made it through 7 without ripping the electrodes off. He did his best on 8 but despite having everyone around him either holding his hand or holding him down he only made it five seconds.

“OK the guys got 7+8+9 that’s 24. We already have 19 so all you have to do is get through 6 babe,” Angela said to Wesley.

It should have been easy. The pain wasn’t that bad, but it was in his abdomen and it was just a little too similar to the pain he experienced when he was stabbed. He was starting to get flashbacks but he wanted to do this for his fiancé, the love of his life and mother to his unborn child. He was going to do this for Angela even when she told him it was OK, that she understood, that he didn’t need to push through this trauma for her but he wanted to. So despite the fact that his whole body was pale, we was dripping with sweat, dizzy and short of breath with tears streaming down his face he pushed through his ten seconds at 6 with steely determination. At this point Angela pulled off the electrodes for him then pulled him into a hug. All her friends wrapped themselves around the couple and they stayed like that until Wesley was feeling better. 

“I didn’t get any prizes so bragging rights will have to be enough,” Wesley admitted.

“The day was prize enough,” Lucy offered, “I had a blast, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to rub it in?” Jackson asked.

“Not a chance,” she replied.

“How about because we won we get to meet the baby first?” Nyla suggested.

“That’s fair,” Angela agreed, “but what do I get?”

“Presents,” Nyla said handing Angela her baby shower present. 

After Angela opened her presents which mostly consisted of clothes and books and toys for the new baby everybody headed home to get some rest.

“Thank-you,” Angela said giving Wes a quick kiss, “For today. I really needed it.”

And she meant it. She had been feeling alone, helpless, and inadequate. But today reminded her about all the people who love her, about the strength that comes with working together. It reminded her that it’s ok to be imperfect, stressed, struggling but also to be goofy, to let loose and have fun. After today she finally felt like her self again and that woman was going to be a great mother.  

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 27

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 27: Someone from Amelia's past returns and causes a stir. Tommy begins to make himself known to people even in London

TW: Discussion of past rape/assault

It was a startling cold fall. Amelia felt the chill in her bones and she couldn’t entirely blame it on the weather. Tommy had successfully distanced himself from her and she was feeling the effects deep in her heart. The man she had married was gone. It was something that she forced herself to reckon with.

There was another thing she had to reckon with come October when a chill was starting to form in the air.

Luckily, it was Martha who intercepted him before he came into the betting shop. What was even luckier was Arthur and Tommy were gone on business in London.

She came over to find Amelia helping out with the books for the day. “Mel, there’s a man at the window asking for you.”

“Who is it?” She hardly looked up from the ledger, too consumed with work. It had become one of two outlets she had. Working in the shop and tending to the children.

The pregnant woman shrugged. “Said he knew you. Said he came from London.”

That caused to Amelia lift her head. There were few people she knew from London who knew she was in Birmingham. “Was he older?” She feared maybe her mother had disclosed her location to her father.

“No, ‘bout your age I’d guess.”

That made Amelia even sicker to her stomach. “Thanks, Marty, I’ll handle it.” She stood up and went to the window.

Martha, sensing her sister-in-law’s uneasiness, followed close behind just in case.

Steven was the son of a wealthy banker and a socialite. He’d known nothing but luxury and excess. Rarely did people deny him.

As much as Amelia hated to admit it, Max did resemble him in a way. They had the same hazelnut-colored eyes and light brown hair. But she had blocked out most of that. She could separate her son from the monster who took advantage of her.

“Leave.” She snarled.

“Amelia, please if you just let me…”

“Let you what? Huh? You don’t deserve a second to explain anything.” She gripped the doorjamb, trying to maintain her composure.

“I’ve just come back from France. I did a lot of thinking over there. Your mother sent me a letter about seeing you. About what she found out.”

“She should’ve kept her mouth shut.” Amelia interrupted. “She had no right to tell you anything.”

“No right? How dare you not tell me about the pregnancy? I have an eight-year-old-”

Martha caught Amelia before she could lunge at the man.

“You have nothing!” She shouted. “You have no right to claim him as your own. Neither do my parents. You keep him out of your thoughts because you’ll never have anything to do with him. I’ll die before I let you near him.”

Undeterred by Amelia’s ferocious state, Steven continued. “I have every right as his father. You’ll have trouble if you keep him from me, Amelia!”

“You’re not his fucking father!”

“John!” Martha shouted back into the shop for her husband. She was having a difficult time reining Amelia in.

“He’ll know nothing of you. And you’ll never know him. You won’t even know his name. You go back to London and you never come back here again, do you hear me?”

John rushed over and separated everyone. He put himself between the two women and Steven. “Who’re you shouting at, mate?” He demanded.

“This isn’t any of your business.” Steven didn’t balk at the fresh-faced man stepping in.

“It is my fucking business. This is the Shelby shop and those women are Shelbys.”

“Typical. She returns to the slums and ends up with the likes of you.” He scoffed.

John’s eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t be wise to cut the man in front of other customers in broad daylight, even if he wanted to. “You stay here much longer and you’ll be sorry.”

“You must be one of the boys she ran the streets with. Did she whore herself out to you too or just the other one?”

Amelia tried to get back at him but couldn’t get past John.

“This family owns these streets. Soon enough we’ll be owning streets in London.” John threatened. “So, move along before you make things worse for yourself.”

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Steven snapped.

“Your name don’t matter here. The only name that matters here is Shelby. And don’t fucking forget it.” He hissed. “Scudboat, get this bastard out of here.”

Amelia was shaking but Martha managed to get her to sit down. “I should’ve known. My mother has no problem going behind my back. That selfish, selfish, selfish woman.” She choked back a sob. The entire encounter had opened up old wounds.

“Deep breaths.” Martha coaxed.

“How dare he-he try to call himself a father. How dare he?” She ranted. “After everything, he did to me? He destroyed everything.”

“John’ll take care of it. He’ll call Tom and Arthur.” Martha assured her. “They’ll make sure he never comes back.”

Hot tears rolled down Amelia’s cheeks. “What if he takes Max from me?” She sobbed.

“That won’t happen.”

“His family is powerful, they have money. What if they go to the courts?”

John was leaning against the wall just in case Steven returned. “We’ve got money too, Mel.” He said gently although he was still angry too. Amelia was a sister to him and there was no way he was going to let a man speak to his sister in such a way. “He won’t be back if he knows what’s good for him.”

“John, why don’t you go try and call Tom?” Martha suggested.

He glanced out the window one more time before going into Arthur’s office to make the call.

“Will you check on Ada and the children?” Amelia asked her sister-in-law.

“Of course, you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah.”

Martha gave her a squeeze before going next door.

Amelia stood and made her way to Arthur’s office. She stood by the door so John couldn’t see her but she could hear him.

“Arthur, is Tom there?” John asked when his brother answered. There was a pause. “Tom, it’s John. Some bastard just came ‘round looking for Mel. Guess he’s Max’s well-yeah. Yeah, biological.” Another pause. “Scudboat took care of him. Well, guess he’s going back to London. That’s where Mel said he’s from. His car? Looked like an Austin. A sixty, maybe a fifty. Well, how should I know, Tom? He shouting at Mel and Martha, I didn’t ask for his fucking address.” John sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll see if they can catch up to him.” He hung up the phone and Amelia quickly moved away from the door.

John walked past her and called for Scudboat and a couple of other men. She watched as he handed the keys to the family car over and they left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia didn’t hear from Tommy that night even though he planned on calling. The phone stayed silent on the hook. Martha came over to the flat to keep her company.

“Oof, I tell ya, this one is not easy.” The young woman held a hand to her lower back. “Abby and Wilbur were so easy. Thought it would be just as easy this time around.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“Ask Polly for some remedy. She always knows what to do.” Amelia suggested. She was sitting on Annie’s bed across from her sister-in-law. The two were each braiding their daughter’s hair. Max was on the floor laying on his stomach as he toyed around with wooden soldiers with Wilbur.

Martha nodded. “Oh, Abby, your hair is so long.” She sighed. “I can’t believe how old you are sometimes.” She cooed and kissed her beloved daughter’s cheek.

“I’m big too, mummy, right?” Annie chirped.

“Very big.” Amelia smiled. “In a couple of years, you’ll be going to school like your brother and cousins.”

“School’s boring,” Max muttered from his spot on the carpet.

“Well, you need an education,” Amelia replied. “Someday you’ll thank us for that opportunity.”

“Finn says we don’t need school.” Wilbur piped up.

Martha and Amelia shared a guilty look. It had been such a misfortune that Finn couldn’t go to school when the boys were away at war. He had missed so much and now he felt he was old enough to decide if he went or not. Unfortunately, Tommy and the others agreed. They wanted to mold him into the next Blinder. The poor boy couldn’t even read.

“Sometimes it’s difficult to see that what we do now, although it’s hard or may not be fun, it will mean a lot to us in the future. You’ll be thankful for it, I promise.”

~~~~~~~~

Tommy returned home the next night, a day later than he originally promised. Amelia was finished tucking in the children when he came upstairs. They exchanged a kiss and Tommy put his bag on the bed.

“Are they asleep?” He asked.

“No, they’ll still be awake.” She answered.

He pecked her cheek again before going to say goodnight to Annie and Max.

While he did, Amelia began to unpack his bag and sort through the dirty and clean clothes. Inside, she found one of his white button-downs. Dried blood was splattered across the collar and sleeves.

She held the shirt in her hand for longer than she realized, just staring at the maroon-colored stains. There was no question in her mind whose blood it was.

The floor creaked behind her as Tommy returned. He saw her holding the shirt.

“Did you kill him?” She asked quietly.

“No.” He answered truthfully. “Just cut him. He won’t be around again.”

Amelia finally let go of the shirt. “What if he goes to the police?”

Tommy closed the bedroom door behind him before going to sit on the bed. “He won’t if he knows what’s good for him. He knows we won’t be in there for long. And when we come out…”

“You promised not to get nicked again.”

“What was I supposed to do?” He questioned. “He thinks he can come around her again demanding to see our son? We taught him a lesson. I’m not getting nicked for anything.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of him. It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” He stood up and took her hand. “You don’t think I would go to prison defending you?”

“You hardly even look at me anymore.” She whispered. “I know you’re struggling, Tom, and that’s okay. I promised I would never abandon you. But don’t abandon your family because of some crusade you think you need to take on.”

“I won’t fucking let him near my family.”

“Then focus on your family.” Amelia challenged. “Stop pushing me away!”

“This again.” Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. “Every fucking conversation leads to this, Mel.”

“Because it’s been the same for weeks. I feel like you don’t even want to be around me anymore. You used to be my world, Tommy. I would wake up in the morning and you’d always be there. Every day you would be there. You were attentive and caring and so passionate. Now I-I don’t even know if you want me anymore.”

“I can’t apologize for changing,” Tommy muttered, letting go of her hand. “I can’t apologize for being forced into war and being broken down. I’m doing me best, Amelia. I don’t know what more you can ask from me. You want the old Tommy; well, I can’t bring him back for you even if I wanted. I still love you just as much as the day you came back to Small Heath. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Neither do I.”

Tommy took a deep breath and walked back over to her. There she was, still the same quiet young woman who arrived in Small Heath broken and afraid. He felt that maybe once he got his hands on the man who broke her, he would be satisfied. Maybe she would be too. If she knew that he had forced the man to his knees, forced him to beg for his life, force him to apologize for everything he’d done.

But Tommy knew all that and he still didn’t feel at ease. Just like he didn’t feel at ease when he returned home. They could be brought away from the trauma and danger, but it still clung on without mercy.

“Do you know what cycle I go through every night?” Amelia asked quietly.

“Tell me.” He begged. There was nothing more he wanted to do but heal her pain. Just like she tried to heal his. It may have been futile efforts, all of them, but he would never stop trying. Even if he felt empty inside.

“I have nightmares every night. Nightmares that you’re leaving again. That you’ve been killed in war. That you’ve-you’ve left me for someone else.” She choked back a sob. “And every week or so I have the same nightmare I’ve had longer than any other. It just replays the night that he-that he raped me.” In almost ten years since the assault, Amelia had never said the word out loud. She could never get herself to. There was so much anguish and guilt. Her parents said it had been her own fault. Steven had claimed she wanted it too. To try and put herself at ease, she never said what he truly did to her. Until that night.

Tommy pulled her into his arms. It was true that he felt so far away from her. So far away from his children, his siblings, his aunt, his nieces and nephews. Everyone. He felt so far away from Small Heath. But that didn’t mean he was withdrawing from his duty as a father, brother, husband, nephew, all of it. He’d be there physically, if not mentally. That’s all he could do.

And he vowed to himself as he held his wife flush to his chest, if he ever saw Steven again, he would murder the man.

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[tumbleweed-palmer]

Unexpected: Jimmy Palmer X OC Chapter Four. Epilogue.

Previous Chapter HERE

I won't lie I am considering writing another series with Jimmy and this OC, maybe covering more of their story.

Jimmy couldn’t help but to feel completely inadequate and unprepared as he stared down at the multitude of screws and parts set out on the floor in front of him. He’d been at this for an hour now and he was no closer to assembling this stupid thing than he’d been before he started. This was ridiculous. The only progress he’d made thus far was pulling all the parts and screws out of the box.

He didn’t understand how he could reassemble an entire skeleton without getting a bone out of place no matter how tiny or shattered the bone was, but he somehow couldn’t manage to put together a crib even with instructions.

Why’d they have to pick this particular crib to put on their baby shower registry? Oh yeah, because it matched the rest of the furniture they’d chosen and Jimmy had liked the reviews he’d seen for this crib. It seemed like the safest option from what he’d seen. No one had mentioned what a pain it was to assemble though.

This entire situation was pathetic and it made him feel pathetic. How was he expected to manage a newborn when he couldn’t even assemble a crib? If he couldn’t assemble a crib then what happened when his kid wanted him to assemble a dollhouse or a bicycle? What if his kid wanted him to assemble a swing set one day and he continued to be so inadequate? What if his failure to put this crib together set a precedent of failure when it came to fatherly duties?

He took a deep breath pulling his brain back from the thoughts. He knew this was just anxiety talking. He was fine; this was all fine. This was just a bad case of expectant father jitters.

He took another deep breath as he picked up two pieces that seemed like they should go together. He stared down at the graph he was given with the complicated instructions that had come in the box with all these parts.

He let out a groan as it hit him that these pieces couldn’t possibly go together, the screw failing to fit through any possible openings.

He dropped the pieces to the floor in front of him, another pained groan escaping him.

Her soft voice pulled him from his misery for a moment. “Jimmy, sweetheart. Give it a break. You don’t have to finish it right this second.”

“I’m fine, I’ve got this.” Jimmy insisted, proving just how stubborn he could really be when he wanted to.

Olivia managed to speak, not letting his insistence that he was fine deter her. “Just stop for a moment and give your brain a rest. You can pick it back up after dinner. We’ll have plenty of help to get this all put together by then.”

He let out a soft sigh remembering the dinner plans they’d made tonight. It had been Abby’s suggestion that they all meet up at Jimmy and Olivia’s new home for a bite to eat and provide some assistance in assembling the nursery for Baby Palmer. It was a sweet gesture and she’d managed to rope almost everyone into the plan.

Jimmy was touched by the kind gesture but he couldn’t help but to feel like Tony would have plenty to say about his inability to assemble this crib. He imagined “Uncle Tony” as Tony insisted on calling himself as often as possible would be pretty judgemental of his sister’s boyfriend’s inability to do one simple task.

Though Tony had been trying his best to adjust his attitude and accept Jimmy and Olivia’s relationship, Jimmy couldn’t help but to feel that Tony simply barely tolerated his presence in Olivia’s life. He couldn’t help but to feel that Tony was always watching him, always waiting for him to screw everything up. Jimmy felt the pressure to overperform and somehow win Tony’s approval not just as a friend and coworker, but as a brother-in-law.

Olivia spoke again, knowing exactly what to say to pull Jimmy from his task and whatever worry was building up in his brain. “Come on, just a little break. Come cuddle me. I’m your pregnant girlfriend and you aren’t allowed to tell me no.”

Jimmy felt the smile cross his lips, unable to ignore her requests.

He stood up turning to face her, his smile only growing.

People said that pregnant women glowed and Jimmy had to agree with this assessment every single time he looked at Olivia Dinozzo. He especially had to agree at a moment like this as she sat back in the rocking chair Dr. Mallard had gifted them for the nursery.

The rocking chair had been in the Mallard family for generations and Dr. Mallard had insisted that Jimmy and Olivia take it as they would find much more use out of it than he did. Jimmy would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t get a little weepy when Dr. Mallard had presented them with the rocking chair the month before at Olivia’s baby shower.

Olivia was now in her third trimester, due any day now, and her belly reflected that. It was almost a comical sight as petite as she was with such a massive pregnant belly.

Jimmy could admit he did feel a bit guilty when she complained about how incredibly uncomfortable she’d been throughout this last trimester. Her current state was half his fault after all. Her belly seemed to get in the way of most things she wanted to do like sleeping on her stomach for example. Her center of balance was totally thrown off and her feet and back ached.

She’d taken to wearing sundresses and being barefoot as often as possible despite the cooler weather as summer faded and fall set in. The loose dresses felt far more comfortable than anything else she could be wearing, she'd insisted. She had bought several loose maternity sundresses relying on them for a comfortable wardrobe. She’d learned that when she had to go outdoors or leave the house she traded being barefoot for a pair of ugg boots and shoved on a cotton hoodie over her sundresses in an attempt to keep warm. She pointed out that no one could tell her she looked ridiculous given her pregnancy. At night she had taken to sleeping in just a maternity nightgown without undergarments because she felt that everything was far too constricting at the moment.

Today she’d chosen to wear a deep green cotton maxi dress and Jimmy thought that she looked amazing.Then again he’d been pretty insistent that she looked amazing throughout her entire pregnancy even when she was dealing with the world’s worst morning sickness in her first trimester.

Her long hair was piled up on top of her head and she wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup at the moment. She’d stated that one positive of pregnancy was all the hormones gave her great looking hair though she’d pointed out she’d gained a bit of curl to her hair. She was dreading the horror stories she’d heard about how her hair would most likely begin to fall out after she gave birth. Needless to say she might invest in a little haircut after giving birth.

Jimmy eagerly made his way over to her, not hesitating to drop down to his knees in front of her, scooting close to her. His lips pressed to her stomach, his voice soft and sweet. “How are my favorite people doing?”

“Good, your Jellybean isn't kicking me in the bladder for once.” Olivia pointed out, causing Jimmy to chuckle. His heart swooned at the goofy nickname for their baby. It was a result of Jimmy’s dumbfounded statement at their first sonogram appointment. The words had left him as they’d stared at the image on the screen in front of them he feeling so overwhelmed and as though he was brimming with love and awe “It kind of looks like a Jellybean.” The nickname Jellybean had sort of stuck after that.

He spoke the words leaving him without hesitation. “That’s probably because she’s turned so that she can move headfirst through the birth canal, or at least that’s what the last sonogram showed. So I imagine she can’t reach to kick your bladder anymore.”

Olivia scrunched her nose at this comment fast to reply. “Can we please not refer to it as my birth canal.”

Jimmy gave her an apologetic smile resting his head against her belly, his arms encircling her waist. Olivia placed a hand on the back of his head her stroking his hair, her fingers delicately massaging his scalp knowing that this was what he needed the most right now.

As her due date drew closer and closer Jimmy’s anxiety rose more and more. The poor guy was a nervous wreck. His constant fretting over her was kind of sweet and she knew he did it because he loved her. She worried though that he might have a nervous breakdown before her water even had a chance to break.

She knew that the stress of the past nine months had only increased Jimmy’s anxiety. He’d been working harder than ever trying to make sure Dr. Mallard would be able to function without Jimmy’s assistance after Jimmy took a few weeks off for the due date. Jimmy’s mother had been making several trips out to visit and attempt to help prepare for the baby. As much as Olivia loved and got along with Jimmy’s mother, Eunice Palmer could be a bit overenthusiastic about trying to help out. Then last month they’d had the chaos of a baby shower courtesy of Abby Scuito. It had gone well and they’d enjoyed time with loved ones but it had been exhausting in the best way possible. They had a feeling that thanks to all the gifts, Baby Palmer wouldn’t lack a thing.

Adding to their stress they both had been stretching themselves thin trying to settle into their new home and get everything unpacked before her due date. The process of buying the house had been stressful enough on its own but scrambling to move into it had been a stressful process as well especially considering Olivia couldn’t be much help with the physical aspect of moving given her pregnancy and Jimmy’s overprotective tendencies anytime she dared to even think about lifting a moving box.

Their new home was simple, located in a quiet Virginian suburb. It was in a decent neighborhood, though it was a little older. In fact, Olivia was pretty sure Jimmy and she were probably the youngest couple in the neighborhood judging by the neighbors they’d met thus far who all seemed to be old enough to be their grandparents. The commute to both of their jobs wouldn’t be too awful at least. The house was actually closer to NCIS headquarters than either of their apartments had been, so Jimmy’s commute wouldn’t be a nightmare. The little three bedroom house was two storeys and built with faded white siding. The master bath had a soaking tub which had definitely been something Olivia was looking for in a home given her and Jimmy’s love of a good bath together. Jimmy had liked the yard, insisting their kid would need a nice backyard to play in at some point. They’d easily fallen in love with the house and had been thankful that they’d been able to buy it. Olivia knew that her inheritance had at least worked in their favor when it came to the financial aspect of being able to afford the home. It was clear that they’d have no problem paying for the mortgage.

Olivia’s father of course had plenty to say about the house; very little of it had been positive. He’d been quick to hint that there was nothing glamorous about the house. It was a far cry from the large estate Olivia had been raised in. Their new house’s walls had needed a fresh coat of paint and the downstairs bathroom was a little outdated. The backyard wasn’t pretty but a good mowing had at least solved that issue. She was sure her father would prefer that they get an expensive luxury apartment or buy a much grander home. Olivia could afford it after all. He had made it obvious that he didn’t quite understand why she would she ever want to live in a house like this. Never mind the fact that there was nothing wrong with the house at all.

Olivia didn’t care what Dinozzo Senior had to say about Jimmy’s and her choices though. This was their home and they loved it. She was looking forward to raising a family with Jimmy Palmer in this house. She had no doubts that they’d have a beautiful life raising their family in this home.

She finally spoke after a long moment of silence. “You know you don’t have to be in such a big rush to get that crib assembled. She’ll be sleeping in that cradle in our bedroom for a little while at least. So, it’s not like the crib has to be ready right this instant.”

Jimmy let out a heavy sigh as the words left him, his cheek remaining rested against her belly. “I know, I just know we’ll be sleep-deprived once she’s here though. I just don’t want it to get shoved to the backburner and for us to be too exhausted to actually get everything together. I don’t want us to feel rushed when she’s ready to leave the bassinet in our room and move to the nursery.”

He spoke again not afraid to admit the core cause of his hastiness to get the nursery set up. “I just want everything to be perfect for her when we bring her home. She deserves to have everything be as close to perfect as possible.”

Olivia spoke knowing the right thing to say in response. “We’re going to be bringing our daughter home. That’s perfect enough all on it’s own.”

He couldn’t stop the dopey smile from crossing his lips or the feeling of adoration from blooming in his heart at her statement. A daughter; he was having a daughter.

He knew he would have been overjoyed no matter what they had. There was something that seemed so wonderful about having a daughter though. He couldn’t help but to think it would be a tiny version of Olivia. The idea sounded perfect to him.

Olivia spoke again making him smile all the more. “You know if you work yourself up this much each time you assemble a crib we might be in trouble since I’m going to need to count on you to do this a few more times in the future.”

He felt the words leave him unable to stop himself. “I thought you told me you’d murder me if I ever got you pregnant ever again.”

She snorted at this fast to respond. “You should know by now that my threats mean nothing. I’m too spineless for murder. I’d miss you too much if I killed you, besides I doubt I’d get away with it. I was only saying that during the first trimester when I puked 24/7. It’s hard not to want more kids with you when I saw how adorable you were opening that package of baby stuff your mom brought us.”

He felt the smile cross his lips again knowing just what package she was talking about. His mother had brought the box with her during a visit a few months ago. The box contained a few Palmer family heirlooms that had been saved especially for this moment, including a soft yellow quilt that had rested in Jimmy’s nursery when he was a baby and a few books he’d loved as a child. There had also been something new, a little lilac dress that his grandmother had sewn especially for Baby Palmer. The one thing that had made him really weepy though had been a bit silly. It was a stuffed animal that had been his when he was a child. His mother had carefully cleaned it making sure it was suitable for her granddaughter. It was a worn and well loved blue stuffed bunny.

He could remember the bunny well. He’d been overly attached to it as a child. His childhood had at times been turbulent, at least when it came to his father’s violence and tendency to take that violence out on Jimmy’s mother. Though Jimmy’s mother had always tried to protect Jimmy and his sister from their father, Jimmy still had witnessed more than enough. Jimmy had found himself often clinging to that bunny in those moments, the toy making him feel safe. Even after his father had died when he was ten and he’d decided he was far too old for a stuffed animal the bunny had still meant something to him. It had provided him comfort and security.

One look at the bunny and all Jimmy had been able to picture had been his daughter cuddling the bunny. He knew it would mean the world to him being able to pass on such a beloved childhood stuffed animal to his child. He knew that his little girl wouldn’t have to cling to the bunny as a response to fear and heartache. He’d do whatever it took to make sure his daughter had a childhood that was unlike the first ten years of his life. He knew she’d see the stuffed animal not as a security blanket to cope with trauma but as a toy that brought her joy. He would be able to share something he’d loved so dearly with her.

The bunny had actually served as the inspiration behind the choice on what theme they wanted to go with for the nursery. It had been Jimmy’s idea and Olivia had readily agreed when he’d brought up the idea of bunnies and other forest themed things as a decorating theme for the nursery.

Olivia spoke, continuing to stroke his hair. “How could I resist the idea of doing this with you a couple of more times when I saw you get so soft and adorable over everything in that box.”

Jimmy replied, not helping but to ask. “So you’d go through it all more than once?”

He had to ask. The pregnancy had been a bit rough at least in that very first trimester. Her morning sickness had felt more like all day sickness and she’d been so exhausted.

The worst had come one time when Jimmy had come home from work not having a chance to shower yet. Olivia had caught a whiff of the scent of decay that occasionally came along with Autopsy when Jimmy had pressed a kiss to her cheek and she’d barely made it to the kitchen sink where she’d emptied the contents of her stomach. Jimmy had of course felt horrible and he’d only felt worse as she’d begun to cry exclaiming that she was a “jerk” and she wasn’t puking because he kissed her, she swore. Needless to say, it had taken a lot of reassurance on Jimmy’s end to convince her that he understood. He’d started to use the hazmat shower at work before coming home after that incident. Dr. Mallard had thankfully been understanding when Jimmy brought up his reasoning for doing so.

Of course there were also the mood swings that had hit so hard throughout the pregnancy. Olivia cried at the drop of a hat over anything and everything. Jimmy felt lost as he made attempts to soothe her, occasionally making things worse due to her racing hormones and his occasional habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Thankfully though Olivia was always quick to forgive, of course that was after she sobbed and apologized, exclaiming that she couldn’t even remember why she was upset. Jimmy had quickly learned that it took a lot of reassurance from him in these moments. He’d worked hard to provide her with reassurance and understanding, knowing it was all he could do for her.

He was just trying his best to support her through it all.

To be honest Olivia’s pregnancy had been a bit of a rollercoaster. The most surprising symptom she’d dealt with was an overactive libido. It had seemed that every little thing Jimmy did had made Olivia want him so badly she couldn’t stand it. He could be doing something as innocent as shaving in the morning and she would find herself overwhelmed with how much she wanted him. Jimmy had been happy to comply, of course that had only been after he’d had the reassurance from her OBGYN that sex was a perfectly safe activity. He’d been told that as long as she was comfortable and she wasn’t experiencing any pain and avoiding putting pressure on her stomach then they were fine. They’d had to get a little creative with their positions given her belly, but they’d figured out something that worked for them both.

Jimmy hadn’t minded the occasional clinginess that had also come along with her pregnancy. When she didn’t want sex, she wanted to be as close as possible to him. She just wanted to be held. He’d never complain when she wanted to cuddle with him even if it meant her embracing him and clinging to him the second he walked through the front door.

Olivia spoke fast to reassure him. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Even the vomiting. It hasn’t all been bad. I’ve liked some of it.”

Jimmy smiled knowing what her favorite moments had been. They had been his favorite moments too. They had been when they would lie in bed at night. He would rest his head against her belly talking to their baby, his voice low and sweet as he told their daughter about his day, well a heavily edited version of his day given he didn’t actually want to share the darker aspects of his job with her. She loved talking about baby names together and planning all the things they wanted for their daughter.

As difficult as her pregnancy had been it was all filled with plenty of joy.

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling his head from her belly, his lips pressing to hers the kisses soft as he spoke. “How many kids are you thinking? I need to know what I’m in for.”

She returned his kisses, the answer coming to her so easily. “As many as you’ll give me.”

He managed to speak the response spilling from him as he reluctantly pulled his lips from hers. “We might have to get a bigger house if that’s the case, or at least build on. We’re going to run out of bedrooms.”

She spoke a giggle leaving her as she pressed her lips back to his. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He replied without hesitation only pulling from her lips briefly.

They shared more kisses, easily growing lost in the moment.

They only parted as a familiar exasperated voice sounded out at the doorframe. “Seriously guys? Come on.”

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush as he spotted Tony leaning against the doorframe rolling his eyes at the scene he’d walked in on.

He spoke again shaking his head. “You two are gross. I keep telling you that I don’t need a demonstration of how Baby Gremlin was made.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at this comment fast to reply. “For the last time can you not call your niece Baby Gremlin.”

“I say it with all the love in the world.” Tony insisted.

He spoke again before Olivia had a chance to comment on his choice in a nickname. “Anyway, come on, dinner is here and everyone should be here soon. I would have been here sooner but the pizza place was running slow.”

Jimmy was fast to stand up grabbing ahold of Olivia’s hand gently working to help her stand up from the rocking chair knowing her center of gravity was thrown off thanks to her belly.

He spoke once he was sure she was stood up and steady. “You good?”

“I’m fine. You know I used to walk on cobblestone pathways in 5 inch stilettos back when I still went clubbing.” Olivia pointed out Jimmy letting out a chuckle, his lips pressing to her cheek.

“Sorry, I worry.” He insisted.

He spoke again nodding to Tony as Olivia moved to leave the nursery. “I’ll be down in a minute. Tony can I talk to you real quick?”

Jimmy gave Olivia a reassuring nod trying his best to convince her that things were fine between Tony and he and he wasn’t about to get himself murdered. “We’ll be quick.”

Olivia rose an eyebrow nodding her head as she headed out the room. “Okay, please don’t kill each other.”

Tony spoke once he was sure Olivia was out of sight. “So what’s going on Mini-Mallard?”

Jimmy took a deep breath his stomach in knots as he tried to gather his courage to do this. “I-I I’m not sure how to even start.”

He took another deep breath knowing that he just had to let it all out. “I know that I’m not the guy you’d choose for your sister.”

“Jimmy I-” Tony started to say Jimmy fast to speak again, not giving him a chance to continue.

“I know that you’d never pick me for her. I can promise you though that I love her more than anything on this planet. I know you’re important to her. Which is why I need to talk to you about this.”

He took another deep breath as he spoke again. “I know traditionally I would talk to her father about this...but uh Dinozzo Senior doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about me. Oli says that I should take his lack of enthusiasm as a compliment.”

He paused again, trying his best to gather his nerve and keep eye contact with Tony. It was best not to let him know he was intimidated. “I love her, Tony. I love her so much it takes my breath away sometimes. I know how much she means to you which is why I feel like I should come to you and ask this. I want to start by saying that I swear to you that I will spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to make sure that our baby and her are always cared for and cherished. Even though I know I’m not the man you would choose for Olivia I’m hoping that I can have your blessing in my plans to ask Olivia to marry me.”

He was almost sure his heart was beating so quickly he could hear it. He spoke again stumbling over his words fearing that Tony’s silence meant the worst. “I-I know it’s not...uh Olivia’s not a traditional woman she prob-probably wouldn’t appreciate me asking like she has nothing to do with her decision bu-”

“Jimmy, stop.” Tony spoke not letting him continue.

Tony took Jimmy by surprise giving him a hug giving his back a firm pat. The hug didn’t last long Tony releasing him as he spoke. “Yes you can have my blessing.”

He cleared his throat as he spoke. “For the record Palmer you might not be the guy I would have picked, but it could have been a lot worse. It could have been Probie. If I had to pick a future brother-in-law, I’m glad it’s you Autopsy Gremlin.”

Jimmy felt the smile cross his lips at the words. It wasn’t exactly a glowing acceptance of him in Olivia’s life, but he was pretty sure this was Tony’s way of welcoming him to the family.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Jimmy couldn’t wipe the smile of his face as he sat at his dining room table surrounded by the people he loved the most and far too much food.

The conversation at the table was as lively as it usually was when they all got together.

He couldn’t stop himself from taking Olivia’s hand in his he gently squeezing it. He was unable to stop himself from leaning over his lips pressing to her cheek.

Of course this caught the attention of Tony who was fast to speak. “Seriously Palmer, at the dinner table?”

Ziva gave his arm a slap fast to speak. ‘Oh, stop, it is very sweet.”

“Yeah they’re expectant parents, let them be adorable.” Abby insisted as she took far too many sips of soda for the overly large cup she’d brought with her.

Ducky spoke latching on to the subject. “Speaking of, have you picked a name for Baby Palmer yet?”

Jimmy spoke so fast to speak unable to hide the enthusiasm from his voice. “Yes we have. It’s actually kind of a funny story.”

He paused clearing his throat glancing at Olivia double checking that he was okay to continue. He spoke again as she gave him a gentle nod of approval as he allowed the story to leave him. “It all ties back to our first kiss. I uh...we went to get ice cream and it started raining. We were blocks away from our car so we had to hide under this awning for this building that was for lease. I just looked down at her, and one thing led to another. I did what I'm been dying to do for months. I thought I’d totally ruined everything.”

He paused his cheeks flushing as Olivia spoke continuing the story. “I had to reassure him that I had been flirting with him for a while now so it was about time he kissed me.”

Jimmy spoke clearly able to see that everyone was a bit lost as to what any of this had to do with how they’d picked their unborn child’s name. “We didn’t look back after that. Anyway a few months ago we just happened to drive by that awning and it’s now a candle and gift shop. It’s called Autumn Wind Gifts and Candles...so we decided that it was a sign.”

Olivia spoke unable to keep the smile off her lips. “We’re naming her Autumn. Autumn Mallory Palmer.”

“Mallory?” Ducky questioned Jimmy and Olivia sharing a smile Jimmy fast to speak.

“We hope you don’t mind. It’s just that uh...well in my time working as your assistant I have grown to see you as more than a mentor and a friend but as the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known. Olivia and I have been talking and can’t think of anyone who we’d rather have our daughter named for.”

Dr. Mallard couldn’t hide the tears from his eyes as he spoke. “I’d be honored Mr. Palmer.”

Tony was fast to speak raising his glass. “Even though I’m bummed that Toni didn’t make the cut, I’d like to propose a toast to my niece. To Autumn Mallory Palmer.”

Everyone obliged to the toast the conversation picking back up.

Olivia spoke a sigh leaving her as the conversation died down. “Okay, I vote we get these plates cleared and get started on that nursery.”

Jimmy was fast to stand helping her get up from her seat as he spoke trying not to look too sheepish. “I’m warning you the instruction to that crib are a nightmare.”

Abby, Ziva, and McGee moved fast to help Olivia clear the table.

Jimmy felt his heart overflow with adoration as he moved to assist. He didn’t think this day could get any better.

He was about to eat his words though as he heard a frantic call from the kitchen. “Jimmy!”

He dropped the paper plate he’d been holding rushing to the kitchen his heart slamming in his chest his mind going a mile a second.

He stared wide eyed at his girlfriend and his frantic coworkers. Olivia stared up at him her hand clutching her belly her words frantic. “I’m having contractions. I think it’s time.”

Jimmy felt the words leave him he frantic. “It’s go time, baby time, our baby. It’s time, I gotta get our suitcases!’

It was go time. It was time for Autumn Mallory Palmer to join her family.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

To say labor and delivery was intense would be an understatement. Jimmy was almost amazed Olivia hadn’t broken his hand with how hard she was squeezing it.

It had been a long process, a long exhausting process. It had gone slow at first and then when it was time to push it had seemed to go by so fast. Early labor had seemed to move so slowly. They’d spent the time resting, walking the halls of the labor and delivery wing of the hospital. Then once her water had broken things had still been slow but they’d been so intense. The actual delivery had moved so quickly though. It was almost unbelievable. There had been so much pain and chaos and then an overwhelming feeling of love and peace the second their daughter had entered the world.

Jimmy would be lying if he ever tried to claim he hadn’t cried tears of joy at the sound of her cries and at the sight of her. His hands had shaken as he’d cut the umbilical cord. It was as though every single bit of medical knowledge he’d had had left his brain as he’d cut that cord, it seeming so frightening and so overwhelming. Part of him was convinced he’d somehow hurt her.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Even covered in afterbirth and screaming her lungs out she was the most stunning sight Jimmy had ever seen.

When he’d held her in his arms the first time more tears had come. He’d wanted nothing more than to hold her against him and protect her. He’d held her against him the words leaving him as he spoke to her. “I love you. I love you so much Autumn.”

The words had left him as he stared down at Olivia their newborn daughter in her arms. “Thank you, thank you so much. She’s so perfect. You’re so perfect. You were amazing. I love you both so much.”

The tears had come for Olivia too she unable to describe the feeling that had washed over her as her daughter had been placed in her arms. She felt complete. It was the only way she could think to describe it.

As she’d stared down at Autumn and up at Jimmy she knew her life was so complete.

Olivia was getting her rest and Autumn was as well. Jimmy was thankful that the nurses had been kind enough to bring her to the room for a little while at least. Jimmy wasn’t looking forward to her going back to the hospital nursery but he knew the nurses would insist upon it soon so they could get all get some rest without fretting over the baby. Jimmy knew he should be getting his rest as well. He’d need it.

His mind was so full though. It had been such a long day full of emotional highs. He couldn’t take his mind off the velvet box resting in his suitcase at the moment. He was almost surprised he’d thought to grab it when he’d gathered their baby go bags.

He was surprised by the sound of her voice. “Jimmy.”

He stood up so fast he almost tripped over his own feet as he made his way over to her bed. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

“I’m good. Don’t get me wrong, I’m hurting. I think I’ll be okay though. Is Autumn okay? Have you gotten any sleep?” She asked staring up at him.

He reached down smoothing back her hair not helping but to say it. “Can’t sleep. She’s asleep. You look beautiful.”

“I went through over eight hours of active labor. I doubt I look great right now.” She remarked Jimmy chuckling at this.

He leaned down pressing his lips to her temple. “And that makes you all the more beautiful.”

He continued to stroke her hair she speaking trying not to fall back to sleep. “You should get some sleep. We’re going to need all the sleep we can get.”

“I will later I promise.” he reassured her.

He leaned down his lips pressing to hers a voice in the back of his head telling him this was the perfect time for this.

He pulled from the kiss the words leaving him. “Give me a second.”

She frowned confused as she watched him go to their suitcases digging through them frantically before he made his way back over to her.

He cleared his throat praying this was the right time for this. “I love you. I love you so much. I once told you that my heart belongs to yours and I think that’s still true. I still remember the day we met. You stepped into that elevator and I knew I belonged to you. I was so disappointed when I found out you were Tony’s sister because I was so convinced you were unreachable. Then fate drew us together and I realized that I would do whatever it takes to be yours as long as you’ll have me. I knew I’d do whatever it took to be worthy of your love. You’re the love of my life and now you’re the mother to my child. I can’t imagine a life without you. You’re the woman of my dreams. I had plans to do this in a more romantic setting, but I think this is a pretty good setting for me to do this in. Olivia Sofia Dinozzo will you marry me?”

Olivia felt the tears leave her, her heart feeling even fuller than she’d thought possible. He didn’t even have a chance to open that velvet box he was holding before she spoke. ‘Yes, yes of course.”

He managed to open the ring box slipping the diamond ring on her finger, their lips meeting. He spoke his voice filled with emotion between kisses. “It took me so long to find a ring. I was terrified of getting something you wouldn't like.”

“I love it. I’d love it even if you proposed with a ring pop.” Olivia insisted his lips meeting hers again.

They only pulled apart as their daughter’s cries sounded out.

Jimmy scrambled to go to the hospital bassinet, he gently picking her up, his voice soft. “Hey, come on now. I’ve got you. I’m here. Dad’s here. Come on let's go see Mommy.”

He made his way over to Olivia placing Autumn in her arms he unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to her temple as she adjusted holding their daughter against her.

Jimmy stared down at them both, his heart aching with adoration.

As Olivia smiled up at him her heart aching just as much.

When she’d gone to visit her brother at NCIS headquarters she had never imagined that this would be in her future.

Jimmy had certainly never imagined that when the pretty girl had stepped on the elevator that day that she would one day be the mother to his child and his future wife as well.

This wasn’t what either of them had expected but it was everything they could have ever possibly dreamed of.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 2]

Words: 2.5K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse

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"Your little one is here as of right now." Dr. Telille says, pointing to a very little area to the far side of my womb and I smile before she switches the focus slightly and then looks at the screen with a slightly odd look before flipping through my chart. "At your previous Obstetrician, did they mention any abnormalities?" She asks me. 

"No." I shake my head. 

"You said in your history you've had recurrent miscarriages?" She asks next. 

"Yes." 

"Okay, Mrs. Sixx, don't be alarmed by this because there is a solution but this," she turns the screen to me again, pointing at a shadow in the picture that looks like it's creating bunny ears or something. "Is a layer of tissue that's not supposed to be there. It halts fetal growth, and ultimately causes miscarriages, often times even before a fetus is interacting with the tissue itself, physically." She informs me and I feel like my chest is throbbing from how hard my heart is beating. "The good news is that we can fix this, I've had to do a few surgeries like this before--we can go in and cut that tissue out without disturbing your baby, but we will need to have it done within the next week--two weeks at the most." She explains and I raise my brows. 

"What's my chance of carrying out my pregnancy to term without the surgery?" I ask, trying to stay calm. 

"With a successful surgery, there is a 80% chance of you carrying it to term, and a higher chance at not facing as many pregnancy difficulties in the future like you've had previously. Without the surgery, with your history, it's very, very probable that you won't get to four months without miscarrying--if that far." She adds. 

"What's the risk of this surgery causing complications?" I ask next. 

"30%." She replies and I breathe out. "You don't have to make a decision today, you can go home and think about it and talk about it with the father but we need to get it scheduled in the next few days." 

"Um, o-okay…" I rub my lips together. 

"And if you are interested in the surgery, we can go ahead and send it in and see if insurance will cover it." She assures me. 

"I don't have maternity insurance right now." I tell her and she looks at me uneasily. 

"No worries, we can figure the costs out after you decide if you want it or not." She tells me, calmly, and I just nod. 

I numbed myself. I would've been freaking out, having a meltdown, begging God to spare my damn baby for once...but as soon as she started in on what was wrong with me, the negative outcomes...I flicked the switch in my brain and just let myself feel absolutely nothing as best as I could. My nervousness was relief compared to blatant breakdown mode that I knew would hit inevitably.

And how the hell did I tell Duff and Nikki that I was going to need surgery that could potentially terminate my pregnancy--or suffer what I'd suffered before and still lose a baby? Oh, right. I didn't. At least, not as soon as I probably should have.

When I get to my new little house I'm renting with my savings, Duff's sitting on the little porch, drinking a beer. 

"How'd it go?" He asks me, standing up as I unlock the door. 

He couldn't go with me this time because he had to go look at a couple houses with Mandy, which I understand because they had already canceled once with a real-estate agent and would get charged extra if they missed another appointment. 

"Good." I lie, clearing my throat. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Whisky's barking at us until he realizes it's me, and then he won't get out from under my feet until I pat him on the head. 

"I need to finish unpacking." I say before Duff can ask anymore questions. 

"Well, it's your lucky day because I know how to unpack." He states, grinning. 

I go change into pajamas and when I get back, he's pulling pictures from one of the boxes, neatly placing them on the coffee table in the living room and I pick them up and start figuring out where to put them. 

"So, my family really wants me to bring you up." He says, optimistically. "I was thinking leave Sunday and come back next Saturday."

"...Duff, I can't just up and leave right now. I have to finish unpacking, and I'm gonna be meeting with Nikki once a week and then him and the guys once a week so that's two different…" I trail off as he cuts open another one of my packed boxes with his pocket knife, a look of disappointment on his face. "...It's not that I don't want to, you know. I just have a lot going on right now." 

"We'd just be gone for a week." He says, looking at me. "It's the only time off I have for a while since we're doing a few shows in New York and Europe." He adds. "And I really want my family to know you, kinda, before you have the baby." 

"I don't know." I hesitantly tell him and he licks his lips. "I don't know, Duff, okay? I just...ughhh." I groan, raking my hands through my hair. 

"If you don't want to meet my family then don't worry about it, Vivian." He says it a little passive aggressively and I raise my brows. 

"'Vivian'? Since when the hell am I 'Vivian'?" I ask, mimicking his tone. 

"That's your name isn't it?" He asks next and I cross my arms.

"You usually call me 'Viv', or...something…"

"Well, I'm not calling you, 'babe,' or, 'baby,' since we aren't dating anymore so…"

"You're being a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick. I'm just family oriented and I want my family to know you and our kid and you're making up excuses to not go and meet them."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be judged." I snap back. 

"They're not fucking judgemental." 

"Oh, so you're cussing at me now, too, huh?" 

"Quit trying to start an argument." He tells me. 

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm making a valid point." 

"You're making an assumption." He corrects me. "My family isn't judgemental. They're really not. I don't even think they're worried with the fact that you were married when we got together because they haven't said a word about it. They just want to meet you." 

"Matt didn't seem so cool about it." I mumble. 

"Matt was trying to keep both of us out of trouble." He explains. "He wasn't judging you. He just doesn't like drama and if we would've gotten caught he knew it'd just be a bunch of bullshit we'd have to get thrown at us." 

I just stare at him. 

"And I'm sorry for cussing at you, but I'm trying to be positive about all of this and I really don't want you to start bringing in your negativity." He exhales. 

"My negativity?" I raise my brows, laughing humorlessly. 

"Please, just come to Seattle with me next Sunday. I promise it'll be fun and my family's fun, they don't mean any harm by wanting you to come up and visit--they're already talking about planning a trip when it's born to be here for you and me both for a few days." He adds. 

I think about it, seeing his eyes glint a little as he slowly smiles at me like a hopeful puppy. 

"Okay." I relent and he puts his hands above his head, folding them together, letting out a loud, "Hallelujah!" and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a chuckle. 

The truth is, I don't want to leave Nikki stewing that long after revealing to him my miscarriages. He never came back when he left the therapy session yesterday, and I was supposed to go back today but decided I needed another day to just think about everything, but because of Amber's schedule, we won't be able to get back in the same room together--aside from me just visiting him--until next Wednesday...but with Duff wanting to leave Sunday and come back that Saturday, I won't be able to meet then, either. A part of me isn't even sorry that I won't make it since the morale of Nikki's story is that he married a maestro of manipulation that can play victim like no other but is really an evil bitch who loves to make people suffer. 

I gathered that after reading: 

"I married a fucking demon."

"Vivian climbed from hell just to neuter me." 

"My wife's a fucking lunatic." 

"I sometimes think Vivian's waiting for me to die so she can get the money." 

"I hate her." 

"I don't know what's killing me faster: my looney wife, or smack. Doesn't matter--they're both my drug of choice." 

"If she didn't know how to fuck I would've already left her." 

"She flushed every bit of what Jason dropped off last night. Cost me a couple grand. I'm so pissed, if I knew she wouldn't beat the shit out of me and go batshit-ballistic, I'd lay her out on the fucking floor. I'm sure it'd be like foreplay in her sick mind, anyway." 

"I swear she cums every time she belittles me." 

And, my personal favorite: 

"Just woke up from a fucking nightmare. I was fucking around with Vivian and Vanity and once they got their satisfaction they started eating me alive while talking about their love for God. Even with them gnawing on me alive with their shark-like teeth and their completely black eyes, stripping flesh from my bone and going at it like a fucking pork chop, I was turned on. But as soon as they started about God, how good and wonderful he was, that's when I started panicking a little that I OD'd without realizing it and was in hell or some fucking incarnation of it. I see now that's how they both got me, being hot and knowing exactly what to do to get me going. And now they're both sucking the life out of me, eating me alive, while praying to their God and acting like they're blameless in my destruction. CHICKS = TROUBLE." 

At least we both agree that we married demons.

It was strange for me to realize how he saw me--well, how Sikki saw me. Once I was able to differentiate between the two of them, it hurt less reading what he'd write about me. It was just confusing. 

One page would be an entire rant (with unflattering, random song lyrics to match) about something I did that pissed him off--sometimes things I wouldn't even realize I did to make him upset and then the next page would be decently positive things about me that he'd profess after waking up sort of sober…

I knew he felt guilty about how he treated me, most of the entries from the end of '83 to '87 had "I'm an asshole" or "I really fucked up" or some version of it in them but the deeper into '87 he got, the less and less apologetic he got. Both in real time and his dairies. 

Despite the black and white of his diaries, one thing still lingered in the grey area…

I stare at the little TV on my dresser, bowl of captain crunch in hand as I stuff my face while flipping channels, Whisky gnawing on his chew toy as a flickering, fuzzy and static blaring familiar face flashes across the screen as I turn to the next channel. My heart stops for a moment, my finger immediately going back, the screen and audio clearing as I see her. 

Clear eyed and competent. A far removal from what I last saw of her with her gnashing teeth and tortured eyes, spewing at Nikki and I both before he and her got into a fight that left her dragged down the stairs of our old house...guilt tugs at me, remembering the look on her face, the pain, the hurt...perhaps she felt as bad as I did about the situation. 

He was the one telling her he was going to leave me and marry her, after all. My feury swallowed him before it ever thought about swallowing her. 

"...I'm currently looking at other scripts for other films." She replies very calm and composed to whatever question her interviewer was asking...I'm assuming this is part of her press run for her new movie coming out. 

"If you could write a ticket for yourself, Vanity, what would it be?" The woman asks next and she furrows her brows, slightly. 

"Write a ticket? To go somewhere?" 

"No, write a ticket for the rest of your life, and your career. Just everything about your life." She explains. 

"Ohhh," She thinks a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I wouldn't want to do that, actually, because, um, everytime I turn around something new's happening. I'm a very spontaneous person. I just like to get up and go, and I've been doing that since I was fifteen...so, um, I couldn't say I'd like to write that ticket." She chuckles a little, but not the crack-cackle I was used to seeing in her past interviews. 

She's actually sober here. 

"I just wanna go wherever life takes me." She continues. 

"What you're saying then, is, you couldn't write a ticket because what you would write wouldn't be as good as what could happen?" 

"No, I don't--"

"--No?"

"No, I don't think that, I'm not saying that at all. I feel that I have certain goals in my life. Very big, big, dreams that I set for myself. But I wouldn't wanna, um, question God's way about where he's going with me." She states. "That's just...not me." 

"If you could go back and change anything--"

"--Nothing." Vanity says, biting her lip nervously, shaking her head. 

"Any of the decisions?"

"Nothing." 

"Wouldn't change a thing?" 

"Nothing." She buckles down on it and I feel my eyes gloss over. "Wouldn't change a thing…" she trails off, thinking for a second. "...Can't say that I would." She adds, softly. "Because each time that I've done something, whether it be a mistake in my life, it's always...what you might call a mistake in my life is never a mistake to me. It was a definite meant to be and it was a definite learning process. So all the pain and all the glory...I wouldn't change a thing."

She's so unapologetically sincere. 

I cut the TV off as they start closing out the interview, and toss the remote across the room, losing my appetite and putting my bowl on my nightstand before I allow myself to replay what she just said. 

And I cry, not because she was in a relationship with him, not because she tried to steal him from me...I cry because I regret everything. I regret marrying Nikki. I regret meeting Duff. I regret getting pegnant. 

I'm not angry at her.

I envy her.

[bciwasinlove]

Hi. I have not been on twitter or even in the fandom long enough so i came here to ask you about something. What's with the song claiming thing? Suddenly ziams are claiming songs that have been claimed as larry song. No I'm not gate keeping. Pardon my word choice.I'm not English. But I'm just curious. As long as i have been in this fandom, no control was a larry song the moment it came out and everyone was ok with it and even ziams never claimed it before.now suddenly they are like oh liam also wrote it? Home has always been larry song considering the timeline, him leaking and all, ziams never claimed it before, now suddenly home is a ziam song too? 18 was taken as a larry song from the moment ed said it was written from 1D perspective and everyone was ok with it considering how Louis used to literally serenade Harry like turning his whole body,changing pronouns etc. No one had a problem untill now. Suddenly in 2020/21 ziams are claiming it. Why didn’t they do it before? Why now? I'm just curious.

Warning selfies have been a thing with Louis for years. Now suddenly it is linked with liam too? How? Did he do it before or something? I genuinely don't know. So let me know plz.

The whole devlin thing, devlin album came out in 2017 i guess and they comparing Louis tweet with zayn tweeting that is from 2016. How does that make sense?

Also some people say larry closeting didn’t work but ziam did...awful thing to say. If it didn’t work then there wouldn’t be so many antis and they are still going through so much. People wouldn’t believe Harry dates every woman that breaths around him. And they claim there are two bbg in ziam relationship right? Why did they need two bbg if it worked? I mean if the closeting worked? Bbg has nothing to do with relationships.

Idk if ziam was real or not but I'm sure gigi was pregnant, she had that symptoms, pregnancy glow,tired face and all. Now whoever the father may be..idk.

I'm not convinced about ziam and how does that make me hypocrite? Also there are some "if this counts(larry),this counts too(ziam)" thread. what's with the comparison?

Sorry about the rant.

Hello anon wow this is long a lot to unpack so I'll start with your song questions.

Idk why ziammies are suddenly trying to claim songs that have ALWAYS been larry related. Especially when Liam said in an interview that Louis and him were a song writing duo for 1D BUT that he wrote the melodies and it was Louis who wrote the song lyrics. Last I checked melodies don't equal meaning of a song so how are these songs about ziam?

Some examples of this....

They are trying to claim Home but Liam said the song was personal to Louis and how when he read the lyrics he didn't want to change them. Home is also a direct response to If I Could Fly with ONLY Harry on the credits. Home was leaked by Louis the night of Belfest when Larry found out BG was being taken pasted the birth of a kid and it pissed off Louis so he leaked Home as payback bc it was clearly a loud song management didn't want on the album.

They are trying to claim 18 but the song was written by Ed who said [compared to other 1D songs he wrote for them] he wrote 18 with a 1D member in mind. [That is why we claim the song at all.] Ed was closeted in the band to Harry next being Louis and Niall he was the least closeted to Zayn and Liam. Side note Ed has a song called Friends that he said was about 2 friends of his who fell in love and when a fan yelled L&H he laughed/smirked and said init so it makes the most sense 18 was written with Harry in mind. Plus 18 is about meeting/loving someone sense they were 18 and it was only Louis who was 18 when they all met and it was Harry who would scream NO 16 when singing the song. Also larry changed the lyrics to HIM and would stare directly at each other when singing 18 livem According to ziam MPs ziam weren't a couple until at least 2 years into the band so why would 18 make sense for them also given they were both 17 when they met & none ever went NO 17 when singing it.

They are trying to claim No Control but that song as we know is about the morning after sex and the second round they end up having. Like stated before Louis wrote the lyrics to 1D songs and Niall plus Larry always made it DAMN CLEAR what that song was about. Also remember when Harry would always jam out hard core when Louis would sing his part in No Control aka majority of the song. Yeah that song is Louis song no doubt.

They try to claim Alive which makes no sense bc Zayn nor Liam is on the credits at all only Louis. They say it's bc Liam said he related to the song ok I see that but still he didn't write it and still how does this song equate to ziam? Alive is more a song used as proof Louis isn't straight bc it's about self exceptance of who you are even tho others around you for along time made u feel there is something wrong with you. It's about Louis who is more confident part way through the story being told and then helping his lover [who seems to be a bit insecure about themselves] except and love who they are. Since Liam didn't write on it the relationship aspect couldn't be about him and Zayn. Since he said he just relates to Alive at BEST it could mean he might not be straight but it can't be used as proof of who his partner is when he didn't write on it.

There's others but I think you get the point they have always been larry or hinting at Louis sexuality songs so I don't get why or how they are suddenly saying their ziam songs? Myself @lovemylarents and @fearlessmoon09 think bored people in quarantine is what happened to change the landscape.

To your next question warning selfies...

So warning selfies was something Louis did everytime something BG stunt related was going to happen. He started it and did it a ton back in 2016/17 when BG stunting was massive for him. Liam never had anything to do with warning selfies and Louis warning selfies were ALWAYS like I said BG related so suddenly ziammies going Liam does warning selfies for things involving Maya or Gigi makes no sense. It was ALWAYS a Louis thing.

For the Devlin thing...

You hit the nail on the coffin with that one the album with the song Cold Blooded that had the lyrics "so is it true XXXX fathered a baby? I don't really think so, if you ask me he don't like ladies. Could have been HARRY, yeah, I bet it was HARRY" [emphasis on Harry bc I saw a ziammie change the lyrics to Liam] came out in 2017 while Zayns tweet was done in 2016. Unlike Louis tweet which was specifically about this album not just the artist and tweeted during the height of BG stunting. So not the best comparison. They really should fact check before making these "larries are hypocrites" threads bc veteran larries know and fact check everything.

Next thing you mentioned what I call their slogan "larries closeting didn't work but ziams did that is why less talk about/believe in ziam then larry" piss me off so much and what you said it right. If larry's closeting didn't work then we wouldn't be here complaing about how the GP sees Harry as a queerbaiting womanizer, how solo henries who want to have sex and suck Harry's dick exist and how some locals don't want to join Louis fandom bc they think Louis and his fans are homophobic or that twarries exist thinking Louis is a deadbeat dad. Tell me again ziammies how their closeting didn't work? It is so invalidating to everything larry has been put through. Also if larry's closeting didn't work but ziams did then why did they need 2 BGs for Ziam and only one for Larry? Myself @kaybutlarry @babyhoney-28 and @onlythebravestan are still waiting on an answer to that question haven't gotten one.

As you said about Gigi yes she definitely looked more pregnant then Briana ever did. The reason I don't believe in their BG with Gigi is bc their story is inconsistenent. Side note back when Liam had a kid no one besides a few on tumblr ever said it was BG 2.0 they didn't start saying BG 2&3 until Gigi happened. Back to inconsistenences so their original story when we first learned Gigi was pregnant was it's fake just like Briana there's no kid, then when Gigi did the livesteam showing she had a bump and a round face you get when pregnant the story changed to she's pregnant the kid is just not Zayn's.

Then I recently saw some who [after the kid was born] went back to the story the kid is fake there is no kid OR they are using a child actor. Unlike Louis BG they don't have a consistent story that makes sense. Also the kids are never shown unlike with Louis kid F gets posted every damn day with creepy and bad photoshop, and a million articles about how he is Louis twin to shove it down our throats the kid is Louis. The situations have NEVER been the same with Louis vs even just Liam kid.

To your last point ziammies keep calling and making threads about how larries are hypocrites bc we don't believe what they do which is damn annoying bc they constantly say just leave us alone why do you care we exist but then constantly make threads like that getting mad we aren't all ziammies. If your going to make threads against us then yeah were going to say something and respond to your threads the way we would to a debunking larry anti thread. Their threads like that are either using funny coincidences of larry that we don't use as concrete proof to compare to ziam OR their ziam version of our proof has been debunked already like the Ziam Levine Stylinson sticker on the bears. [If you want more info on that ask @lovemylarents.]

They constantly take what is a larry proof and say it's also about ziam [Example the songs] or have a ziam proof that mirrors a larry proof. [Example the devlin thing or selfies] In their threads they always compare miniscule larry things that aren't our MAIN proof. See the miniscule proofs are the house and the big proofs are the concrete foundation that without it those miniscule things would not be able to really count as proof of larry and the larry house would fall. Ziammies ONLY have miniscule proof not a very solid foundation so I'm unsure how long their house will last.

I have been in this fandom for 10 years I have seen MANY ships come and go [Examples: Ziam, Ziall and Narry] but the one ship that has always been here was Larry. Larries have been here for 10 years, Larries are the ones who are talked about in the media, Larries are the ones constsntly gaslighted, Larry is the one ship that needs to be denied a bunch [poorly might I add] there's NEVER been any other ship or ship group people have hated, gone against or talked about this much besides Larries/Larry.

Funny [not for us] but funny that Liam goes through all the trouble of gaslighting Larries and talking about EVERY Louis stunt but he never mentioned Ziam which is a ship that actually involves him or the Ziammies who say Bear isn't his kid. Why did he talk about US and not THEM which involve him? Also funny Liam can easily say the word Ziam but Louis can't pronounce an EASY @ just bc it has the word Eroda in it.

My mutrals and I all agreed we didn't give af that ziammies existed until they kept talking shit about how we aren't ziams to and then go why are larries acting like antis hating us. First off it was NEVER larries hating on them it was toxic solo Zsquad and solo Liam stans who were. We didn't get involved until the entire tl was LARRIES ARE HATING US AND BEING HYPOCRITES. Second off and my last thought it's easy if you don't want us in your replies then don't make threads about us being hypocrites and use easily debunked ziam proof or miniscule larry proof to mirror bc we will point it out bc you think were hypocrites thank you.

[addictedtoredemption]

Poop Sock

It’s November 14th , 2019. I had just woken up, and it was time for the usual morning pee. As I pull down my pants and go to sit down I brace myself for the cold steel metal that soon will be touching my bare skin. The initial shock of the brisk coolness fades, and my eyes gaze over to the side of the toilet, and I see a gray frayed sock that has been tied in a knot. I think to myself, “this must have been left here by someone before me. Yuck, that’s fucking gross.” I contemplate whether I should throw it away. I hope to myself that I won’t be here long enough for it to matter. Hopefully I will leave today, and this sock won’t matter. Why bother throwing it away? “No, I better just get it out my sight, plus I don’t want them to think I have something extra or that I am not picking up after myself.” I grab the sock between my pointer finger and thumb and the oh so familiar “this is fucking gross” scrunched up face is on full display. That’s weird, it’s heavy, what the hell is in here? I don’t want to know. I toss it in the trash, and hear it thud against the brown plastic bin. I sit down on the blue mat on the floor.

I haven’t cried much yet. I’m still in shock. How did I get here? Why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I just play by the fucking rules? I hear the slamming of the thick steel door, and I hear the corrections officer yell, “Food! Top tier.” Ladies begin rushing down the stairs. It’s wave of orange jumpsuits that form a long line down one side of the commons area of Mod 13. Mod 13 is the women’s minimum-security housing for inmates. Definition of inmate: any of a group occupying a single place of residence especially: a person confined (as in a prison or hospital.) Inmate- Jenna West, 34, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, nurse, and now inmate. In jail, you are none of those other things, you are inmate. “Inmates line up for food, inmate meds are here, inmate line up for court, inmate you can use the phone, inmates you can shower, inmates it’s time for lights out.” You see, the corrections officers don’t know my story, they don’t really care. They are here to earn their paycheck and go home. They see me simply as another criminal, piece of shit, and deservedly here to serve out time for the deviant ways I have betrayed society. I stare at the women in line waiting for the slop that is to be served on scratched up, sometimes clean brown trays. They hold their brown cups in their hand hoping that by the time they get up to the front the juice won’t be gone. I use the term juice lightly, as it is a cup of water with a splash of flavoring. As they wait for their food they laugh, chat, braid each other’s hair, and seem oblivious to their current situation. It enrages me that they can be having a good time. Do they not realize this isn’t summer camp? We are in jail! “Bottom tier, let’s go.” I grab my cup and walk across the bright white floor to take my place in line. I am careful not to push my way in and try to remain unseen. That is until “Inmate! Are you forgetting something?” I don’t even look up; it doesn’t occur to me that she would be talking to me. “Hello?!, Inmate orange needs to be on.” I look down and I still have my brown t-shirt on. I feel like it’s the first day of school when you inevitably miss the memo on what’s what, and now you are the center of attention. “Sorry, I’ll go get it.” I quickly walk over to myself cell and grab my orange shirt and walk back to the line. I get my tray of food. It’s brown mystery meat. I’m told it is hamburger. A piece of white bread, a plastic spoon with ½ teaspoon of ketchup, a potato side, carrots, and cookie. I eat the cookie. The hamburger is completely inedible. The potatoes have no flavor. The carrots are cold. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway. I begin to think about my family. How worried my mom is. How mad my husband is. How clueless my kids are as to where Mommy is. I just want to be home. I want to be watching my two-year-old little girl playing with her toys, watching Pink Fong, and running to me for the occasional snuggle or kiss. I want to look outside and see my son, 10, walking down the hill from school. I want to greet him at the door and ask how his day is. I want to have some funny banter with my husband over texts. I want to give him a kiss when he comes home from work. I want to sit down on the couch with him and watch our shows. I want to sleep in bed next to him. Oh, a bed-I would give anything for a bed. I had dreams almost every night I was in jail about finding pillows in secret passageways. I just wanted a fucking pillow. All we are given is a 1-inch-thick blue mat with one end a little thicker for what one might call a pillow. It’s a stark contrast from my king size bed, with a 2in memory foam thick mattress toppers, Casper pillow, and down comforter. I don’t get a sweet tap on my shoulder at 2 am from my sweet Stella, asking if she can sleep with me. Instead, I lay awake most hours of the night counting the white bricks that make up my small cell, all 252 of them. I am anxious, I am sad, and I am defeated. During phone time, I call my mom just to have a small amount of comfort. She hears the pain and sorrow in my

voice. I know it’s selfish of me to call her, I know that calling her, and letting her hear me cry is painful, but I can’t help it. I need that comfort, I need to hear her voice, and I need a moment away from my reality. I call my husband, Casey, next. I ask if he has spoke to my lawyer, if he found out when I might get out, and I ask what he told Jaxson. His tone with me is firm, and his answers are concise. I don’t find much comfort in talking to him, as I know that he is angry with me. I’ve let him down. I’ve made him the sole caretake for our children for no one knows how long. I’ve placed my job in jeopardy. I’ve embarrassed him. There are few family members, and friends that know of my situation at this point, and he now has to tell them his wife, mother of his children is in jail so he might need some help with the kids. He tells me he told Jax, that Mom had to go on a work trip, and she is somewhere where there is no service. Jax asked, “Why would she just leave? Why wouldn’t she say goodbye? When will she be back.” These feelings my son had to feel because of my poor choices is just another ripple of many ripples in this giant ocean of the clusterfuck I have made of my life. The burden my husband had to bear is one of many he has had to endure because he married an addict. The pain and disappointment my mother and father felt is only worsened by images of their youngest daughter in jail away from her family, and there is nothing they can do to help.

I do find some comfort in that I don’t have a cellmate. I get the bottom bunk so I don’t have to try to hoist myself up on the top one. That comfort is quickly taken away on day two of my jail stint. Midday on November 14th a pretty brunette girl storms through the cell door into my cell. She says, “Hey, I am your roommate, can I have the bottom bunk? I just had a baby, and I can’t climb up there.” She could have given me any reason as to why she wanted the bottom bunk, and I would have conceded. She seemed like this wasn’t her first rodeo, and I wasn’t about to start any bad blood with someone I’d be in an 8X10 room with for the foreseeable future. Rachelle, had just been moved from the medical infirmary back to general population, “gen pop.” She had her baby only three days early. She gave birth under police custody, she spent 24 hours with her baby before she was shipped back to jail. I felt sad for her, and I felt angry for her. How can the system be so heartless that they rip a newborn baby from their mother just hours after birth? She clearly isn’t a murderer or armed robber; she is in minimum security. What could she have done that was so terrible? I’d later find out that she was caught shoplifting from a Thrift world Store. She was nearly 7 months pregnant at the time, and when they searched her, they found meth in her bra strap. They didn’t give her a bond because they wanted to ensure the baby had a fighting chance. She was to serve out the rest of her pregnancy in jail, and after the baby was born they would then decide her fate. This girl gave zero shits about anything. She quickly rummaged through her clothes- two orange pairs of shirts and pants, two underwear, two sports bras, and two pair of socks. The standard wardrobe for Douglas County inmates. She threw of her orange shirt, and through her brown shirt I could see two wet sports where her nipples would be. She was leaking, engorged, and in pain. She threw off her bra and exposed her bare breast, then asked me what I think she should do? You see on top of the emotional pain of not being with her newborn, she had to endure the pain of not being able to breastfeed therefore having engorged breasts that leaked constantly causing chapped nipples that chaffed against her sport bra. She tried to put socks and toilet paper between her skin and her clothing to ease the discomfort, but it was to no avail. I looked down quickly, and just said you need to just try to keep them dry. I told her that if she had some Chapstick that it might help with the chaffing. She swapped bras and grabbed a clean shirt and continued to unpack her bags and make herself at home. She raised hell about how dirty the cell was, and ranted, “this is fucking disgusting, how do people live like this?” She ran out of the cell to grab cleaning supplies. Cleaning supplies? I had no idea we could just go get cleaning supplies to make things a little more livable. I assured her had I known, I would have cleaned, and I told her I was hoping I was leaving later that day, so I didn’t see the point. But I picked up some supplies and assisted her with the cleaning of our humble abode. Once everything was in order she said, “Do you have any extra socks?” I replied, “No, only what they gave me, why?” “Because we need to make a poop sock.” What the hell is a poop sock I thought. Is it what she used to wipe her ass? Does she poop in it in and throw it away, or reuse it? My mind mulled over what in the actual fuck is a poop sock. Turns out a poop sock is what I had thrown away earlier. You see I had no idea that that poop sock was a gift. A glorious gift that one inmate bestowed on future inmates in order to lessen our suffering. She explained that a poop sock is when you take a bar of soap, and crumble it into many pieces, let it dry out, and then stuff it into a sock and tie a knot on the top to hold it all in. Then when you take a number two you beat the sock against the wall and shake it all around you. A dust of soapy freshness then fills the air. A poop sock is a jail made bathroom air

freshener, and it was genius. I walked over to the trash and fumbled through the dirty paper towels we had just used to clean and pulled out our poop sock. Relief and delight washed over Rachelle’s face. Turns out she was an avid poop sock user, as I would soon be choking on soap flake dust every time she went to the bathroom. She would bang that thing against the wall and violently shake all around her while she used the bathroom. I couldn’t help but giggle because she looked like a priest throwing holy water on someone the way she shook that gray ratty sock all over the place. Day two, and I was learning the jailhouse lingo, and already impressed with what these ladies could come up with. I later told my mom, well at least this experience builds character.

I ended up only spending 7 days in jail. Some people respond to that, “Oh my god, 7 days? How did you get through that? I would die.” While others, like people I was on drug court with, would reply, “Ah, 7 days, man, that’s nothing. I lost 7 years while I was in prison.” It’s all about perspective.

[broadstbroskis]

surprises-pt 4 | mat barzal

part 3

You’ve rescheduled your second OB visit three times just so that Mat could be there, but he’s actually beaming when he arrives, so it seems like it was worth it.

“I promise it’s not that exciting.” You tell him, as you walk toward the door of the office.

“Are you kidding? This is awesome!”

You’re inclined to agree more with that statement when Mat’s mere presence brings out the star treatment and you don’t even have to wait before the nurse is bringing you back for your appointment. 

She runs quickly through vitals, assuring you that everything looks good, and letting you know your doctor will be in shortly. 

“What if your doctor’s a Rangers fan?”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, it’s a legitimate concern!” He cries.

You can’t help but burst into laughter. “Maybe she’s not a hockey fan at all.”

There’s a look of horror on his face for a moment, before he takes a deep breath. “I think that would be a little better than a Rangers fan. Microscopically, but better.” 

Your laughter sets him off and you’re both laughing when Dr.McLaughlin enters the room. She smiles as the two of you try to compose yourself, greeting you and introducing herself to Mat. 

There’s no need to kick Mat out for the Q&A session today, most of your more personal questions answered at your last appointment. In fact, you’re actually surprised when he starts firing off more questions than you’ve got, until he ends his questions with, “Are you a Rangers fan?”

“Mathew.” You snap. He is unapologetic in his shrug.

Blessedly, Dr. McLaughlin only shakes her head. “My husband would be very excited to know you’re in the office though.”

Mat nods, apparently satisfied, and you roll your eyes, offering an apology to her for him. She merely laughs, preparing to start listening to your baby’s heartbeat. “I have spent my entire married life apologizing for my husband. You don’t have to apologize to me. I get it.”

Before you have a chance to correct her, or the situation has time to get awkward, the thud-thud of your baby’s heart is swishing through the room. Your eyes are wide; she’d pointed it out to you last appointment, but it’d been so much softer. Not today.

Mat’s hand grips yours, squeezing tightly, and you lace your fingers through his, not letting go even as Dr. McLaughlin wraps up the appointment and lets you know the next ultrasound will be an anatomy scan and if you want, you may be able to find out the sex. 

Exiting the office still hand in hand, you and Mat turn your discussion toward your orange. “It’s an orange now?” He grins.

You nod. “It’s an orange now.”

“So one day.” He says slowly. “You really might be growing a watermelon in there.” He laughs as you swat at his arm. “What are you thinking, girl or boy?”

A lot of people have asked you this, since you’ve started telling people. What’s your mother’s intuition telling you, one of your coworkers had pressed. Tito continues to insist the baby will be a girl. “I don’t know.” You tell Mat, honestly. “I don’t care either, really. Just healthy.”

Mat nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“You don’t want a mini-me to play hockey with?” You tease.

He gives you a look. “If I get a mini-you, I’m still going to play hockey with her.”

“I lack the hand-eye coordination to play stick sports; I’ll just give you that warning now. You’re in for some work.”

Mat laughs. “Well girl or boy, hopefully my genes win out on that one.”

You can’t help but agree, thinking about the one season you’d spent having to play field hockey because your middle school just needed a body to put on the field. “Yeah, fingers crossed.”

-----

“Fuck yeah!” Tito cries, as he does...something in the video game that he, Mat, and Brian are playing.

“Fuck you!” Mat shoves at him, competitive as ever, and then brings his hand up to his hair, brushing his fingers through the soft locks before refocusing, and SNAP goes the carrot in your hands.

“You okay?” Molly asks. The two of you are sitting at Mat’s breakfast bar, snacking, chatting, and occasionally laughing at how much more chill Brian is compared to Mat and Tito. Their chirps just roll right off his back. 

“What?” You ask, too busy staring at Mat’s forearms to listen properly.

“You look a little flushed.” She continues.

“I’m fine.” You say quickly, but she’s already connected the dots and there’s a huge grin on her face when you look over. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Ok then, how is it?”

“How’s what?”

She lowers her voice. “Pregnancy sex!”

You give her a look. “Um nonexistent.” She returns the look. “That might be my problem.” You admit. Right on schedule, according to both the book you’d downloaded to your Kindle and the app you’ve been following on your phone, pregnancy hormones have arrived, and they’re in full swing. 

“You should just go for it.” Molly shrugs. “There’s no way Mat’ll mind, especially not when your boobs look like that right now.”

“They do look really good, right?” At least there was one benefit to all this. 

“It is a shame you don’t get to keep them.” She agrees, sending you both into giggles, attracting the attention of all three of the boys.

“What’s so funny?” Tito calls over.

“Nothing.” You and Molly say simultaneously.

He looks like he wants to press the issue, but Brian shakes his head. “You’re better off not knowing. Trust me.”

Tito gives you one more side eye, before giving up and pausing the game to bring up dinner plans. “Nothing fried.” You wrinkle your nose as they all gather round. You can smell it already and even though the nausea phase has mostly passed, the thought of something fried makes your stomach roll.

“Chinese?”

“She said nothing fried!”

“Pizza?”

“Italian?”

“Pasta.” You nod in agreement and requests go around as Tito pulls up his UberEats app. Mat’s arm drops on your shoulder and squeezes, something he’s been doing more and more often since the two of you had gone to your doctor’s appointment together a couple weeks ago. It’s supposed to be comforting, a we’re in this together, kind of thing. But now that anything he did (or well, at this point, him or any man that even so much as breathed near you) turned you on, it was starting to become a problem.

“Are you okay?” He asks and you nod, unable to trust your voice if you spoke. He accepts the nod though, turning back with Brian and Tito to go back to their game while you wait for the food, and you manage to mostly ignore Molly’s knowing smirk as you can breathe a little easier.

For now.

-----

For now doesn’t last long, as Mat starts popping over more and more often. It’s not always for long- sometime he just stops in early in the morning before he leaves for a road trip, sometimes it’s just a quick minute before or after a game, only to say hello, see how you’re feeling, and if there’s anything you need. 

Sometimes, though, sometimes he comes over and stays. You’ll come home after work and find him already in your apartment, unpacking takeout (the exact takeout that you're craving, somehow he always knows) or he’ll shoot you a text and ask if you’re up for a marathon of The Office after he finishes practice.

Those days are the hardest for you. When he’s sitting in your apartment, looking like he belongs there, freshly showered with his hair still wet, and smelling strongly of whatever scent you would have associated with him before you were pregnant. You honestly would have said it smelled amazing even before this; now, it’s absolutely intoxicating and certainly doesn’t help that thing where you kind of want to jump his bones. 

It’s a little better when there’s other people around, something else to focus on. Sometimes Tito will join the two of you (although, sometimes, that honestly makes things worse for you); Molly and Brian frequently join you two for dinner, even if they don’t end up sticking around afterwards; and on rare occasions, the schedules will line up so that all five of you can actually get together for a lengthy period of time. 

“What do you think about this one?” Molly flips her phone around toward you. She’s been obsessed with scrolling through nurseries on Pinterest during her down time, texting you pictures of her finds when she’s not in the same apartment as you. 

“Pass.” Mat answers, before you even get a chance to. He’s sitting next to you on the couch, and had pulled your legs into his lap when you were shifting restlessly a few minutes ago, so his hands are resting on your kneecaps, where his thumbs will occasionally trace the outline of. Your left patella has never felt so arousing.

“I wasn’t asking you!” Molly huffs.

“Wait, I don’t get an opinion on this?” He looks between the two of you.

“Of course you do.” You assure him. “Molly!”

“Fine.” She huffs.

“We should start thinking about that.” He mutters to you. “Like what we’re going to do when the baby comes.”

“It’s on my list.” You tell him.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You have a list?”

You nod, unlocking your phone and pulling up the notes app, before showing it to him. “It’s very long.”

He’s laughing by the time he gets to the end of it, which shocks you because your blood pressure spikes like ten points every time you open the damn thing. “You kill me.” He says, sounding almost fond. “This’ll be easy to crush.” 

You look at him in disbelief. Easy to crush? Were you looking at the same list? Everyday you thought of something new to add to it! And sure, some of them probably would be easy enough to do, but the rest of them? “Mat, are you serious?”

“Yeah!” He says, and that sets Tito and Brian in a fit of laughter. Mat rubs your knee, in what you assume is meant to be a calming gesture but has the exact opposite effect, so you shove his hand off. You’re not going to be able to concentrate if he keeps that up. “You’re not alone here. I’m here. They’re here.” 

Tito stops laughing to nod eagerly. “Team Baby!”

It’s the first time you don’t outwardly cringe when one of them says that, too touched at their willingness to help. For how supportive they’ve all been throughout this to both you and Mat, it really never fails to make you soft and pull on your heartstrings. “Start delegating.” Mat pokes you. “And let’s pick something and do it.”

“Right now?”

He nods. “You and me. Right now, let’s go.”

Immediately you know what you’re going to talk about. Your next appointment is approaching quickly and you’re not going in without having talked about this beforehand. “Do you want to find out the sex?”

“Yes.” Molly says immediately.

“Of course you do.” Tito answers, like you’ve offended his existence by even asking.

“Don’t be stupid.” Molly continues. “There’s so much we have to plan, so much we have to do.”

Mat’s ignoring the two of them, looking only at you. “Do you?”

“I don’t think I do.” You confess. You’d thought a lot about this, going back and forth, weighing pros and cons. And sure, there were a lot of pros to knowing, to having that extra bit of preparation, but…

Mat starts to grin, as soon as you finish speaking. “Me either.”

“What?’ Molly snaps.

He shrugs, resting his arm back on your thighs, and for the first time in a while, it doesn’t set your entire body on fire. “Everything else about this has been a surprise. Why change it up now?”

You beam at him, easily able to block out Tito and Molly’s (and even Brian’s, he’s getting way too comfortable if he’s starting to join in) outrage and attempts to argue their points. “You’re right.” You agree, feeling some kind of flutter in your belly when he smiles back at you. “The surprise will be good.”