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artsninspo · 1 month ago

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Penname: Delta Wise -II- [Sinners]

「 ✦ mbj's charcter archive✦ 」

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⇠ previous part

authors note: back by popular demand, heres a part two - hope you enjoy.

summary: 'Knotty' James owns an apothecary by day, by night she's a bestselling author who writes supernatural black novels under the name. Delta Wise. It's her deepest secret but secrets don't last for the living.

word-count: 2.2K

TWO

Knotty

My nerves are shot. I know faith should become me but it's hard when the subject of nightmares walks into your place of business. The knowing gnaws at my chest, Stack and Mary showing themselves and Carmen discovering my secret in the same week is too much. I should have known better than to publish the story that I did. I should’ve been smarter than to think I wouldn’t be found out. I took all of Merin’s advice and have spent the past few days at the cemetery pouring out libations onto the soil that holds Granny’s remains. If she were here she would know what to do. I feel just as lost without her as I did at fifteen. I look at my reflection as I stand in my bathroom trying to muster enough courage to step out of my house at dusk. My hands tremble and I clench my fists before releasing them. All good sense says stay in but I know Carmen’s support system does not exist. Her world is full of competition, women that hate her for her natural magnetism and men that want to sleep with her. I think Granny saw her Mama Pearline in Carmen although she never said it in those words. In granny’s retelling of her momma; Pearline was always curious and that made her wayward. Those were the same words she always used for Carmen. Granny’s words hold so much more weight now she isn't here to explain them.

Taking a deep breath I nod at my reflection, willing myself to stand. All necessary precautions have been taken to ensure my safety should I see Stack. I head into my garage and then into my car before backing out. I’m stopped by my father’s car as the garage opens. He steps out and I put the car in park, weary of everything now. Relief washes over me when he walks into the garage without invitation.

“You never go out at night,” he says.

“Carmen wanted me to come to the studio” I tell him and he scoffs like everyone does at Carmen.

“Knotty, I don't think you should keep Carmen’s company. People might make the mistake of thinking you're like her” Dad says and I roll my eyes.

“What brings you here?” I ask to closing the garage and heading back inside with him. He follows behind me, I send Carmen a text telling her I’m going to be late.

“I can't visit my daughter?” he asks.

“Time is money, you bill by the hour” I say reciting his mantra, one heard too often as a child and he nods.

“I need you to be my gold partner tomorrow, I got a last minute invitation,” he says.

“None of your associates or mentees are available?” I ask and he winces. He’s a good man and I know my dad loves me but we’ve never been close. His love for his career is only superseded by his love for my mom. I probably make the top five of his priorities somewhere under his reputation and his finances.

“It’s only for family, we’re fundraising to reclaim land in the southern states and lobbying for prison reform and the use of slave labour” he says but I’m not naive enough to think that’s all there is to it.

“What’s the catch?” I ask skeptically and it makes him smile. He likes me most when he can see himself in me. I would’ve made a great lawyer, me not pursuing a traditional career caused the fault line between us to fracture creating a distance that’s never been remedied.

“No catch, just come, golf and charm everyone” he says.

“What time?”

“9 am” he says and I sigh. I know it's important if he’s made the trip. We both know I wouldn't have picked up otherwise.

“Ok did Ma pick out an outfit and send it with you?” I ask knowing how it works. “Will mom be there?” I ask hoping for a buffer.

“She will be, but not on the green with us. She did pick you out a few options they're in the car.” He says.

“Okay, I’m gonna go support Carmen. Text me the details and I’ll see you tomorrow” I smile.

“Knotty” he calls as we head back out. I raise a brow.

“Thank you” he says and I nod.

“No problem” I nod.

The rest of the night is spent in a dark studio with Carmen as she shows off her innovative ideas and unique vocal range. But the more I hear her sing, the more I think of the original Pearline and Sammie and what they’re voices summoned. It unnerves me so much I sleep in the studio not daring to go outside. Carmen is happy for my presence and continues working through the night. I don't leave until sunrise. When I arrive at home I take a cat nap before getting into the shower. I fashion my hair into an updo that’s suitable for the company I’m going to keep today as well as the sports I'm going to play. I see my mother has left nothing to chance even down to the sun protection in the visors, hats and glasses. I leave the house taking the scenic route to the country club and where I have my pass scanned. I drive up to the main entrance and get my things before handing the valet my keys. I walk through the country club and ignore all the looks from men my fathers age hoping I’m willing to exchange my time for some quick cash. I know where to find my mother. She’s in the ballroom with her interior design hat on rearranging the florals.

“Knotty” she beams at the sight of me.

“Hey,”

“You look great and you are so going to love today” she winks. My mother is one of those women who doesnt age. A husband that’s utterly devoted to her and the freedom to live life on her own terms has made her light as a cloud. I’ve always felt her love for me. In mom’s list of priorities I’m top two. “You smell divine” she beams, letting me go.

“One of my blends”

“Oooh, make me one. I was just talking to the girls and I think we should collaborate on bachelorette events. I mean a perfume workshop is an excellent bridal shower experience” Ma tells me and I smile.

“That’s what I’ll tell everyone today when I’m asked what I do a million times” I smile sarcastically, making her laugh.

“Your dad should be by the beginning of the course, call me if you need anything” she says and I leave her to her work crossing the room where I find a shuttle. The boys shuffle into place fearing I have horns and will write them up. I tip them generously and feel my mojo bag tucked into my chest. It's no surprise, my father’s counterparts are not the most genuine people. My least favorite one emerges and I’m amused at how tuned into my environment I am.

“Knotty” Jester smiles, holding out open arms for me.

“Jester, how are you, dad?” I smile ignoring the invitation for a hug.

“I’m good, baby girl,” he smiles. “You look nice,” he nods.

“You too,” I tell him. “I’m going to get a cup of tea before we start,” I tell him.

That’s exactly where I am and what I’m doing when I see him. Stack in daylight shaking hands with my father who is beaming at him. I drop my teacup and the china shatters causing a spectacle. The scream is stuck in my throat as Stack pauses from going to speak into my fathers ear.

“Are you burned?” One of the staff says, taking my hands and forcing me to look down.

“I’m fine” I ask as my heart races.

“I told them it was too hot, did you burn your tongue?” she asks and my hands shake again. I ball fists again to stop the shaking.

“It’s my fault, your staff is fine” I swallow bending but I’m already being handed a towel. My shoes are being wiped.

“She doesn't like being touched by strangers” I hear my father say and when I look up he’s alright. He reaches for me and I take his living hand. He gets a towel wiping the tea from my legs.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah” I nod.

“Daddy, who was that?” I whisper and he fights back a smile, thoroughly amused.

“You don't recognize him?” he asks, walking me away from the mess.

“No, how do you know him?” I ask curiously and daddy smiles some more, wiping my hands off for me.

“That’s Eli,” he says. I squint searching for understanding.

“Remember that summer we went to Mississippi for your granny’s history lesson?” Dad asks just as it comes to me. I look over my father’s shoulder to “Eli” and get goosebumps.

“Yeah” I nod.

“Remember the hotel worker who was spending the summer there that you liked so much? That’s him - his uncle is one of the project’s chairmen.” Daddy says, knocking the wind out of me. The Eli I remember was just a teenage boy with infinite patience for my neverending questions. He had no facial hair, nor was he built like a grown ass man. I search my memory trying to match up the features of the past to Stack. Eli, I hold the name close to me feeling queasy.

“Dad, I’m gonna go to the ladies room to clean myself up” I announce with a quick smile. I cast another look over my shoulder and find Eli looking at me from across the room with concern in his very human eyes. Human eyes of a boy I knew as a child while he was a teen. I was one of those old soul children that could only take so much kid time with certain people. I was an easy target too, especially among my cousins. My innocence made me gullible and gullible led to trouble. So by the time I was seven and Granny took us to Mississippi I stuck to her like glue. We had a house rental kind of like a hotel, and from what I remember the whole gang was present. One of the boy cousins, I don't remember which one, told me if I wanted to make my grandma happy I’d go in the river and find a pearl. It’d show her her mom was all around her. Innocence and hubris had me separated from the group and in the river in the middle of the day.

Only to be hauled out of the water in one motion and placed on dry land by a very unimpressed Eli. When I turned my cousins were looking terrified and the shadow being cast on me was large. He was a giant to me then.

“Fucks wrong with yall!” He snapped cursing. My fingers went in my ears and I don’t know what else he said but I know that the boys went running to tuck tail. My hands were taken from my ears and a serious expression of a teenage boy came into view.

“There are gators in the water and other stuff. Don’t be out here alone and don’t go in the water, it’s filthy” he scolded.

“I was searching for pearls for my granny,” I explained.

“She’d rather buy ‘em then know you went missing looking for ‘em” he said looking me over in disapproval. “You’re probably covered in leeches,” he added, shaking his head and taking my hand.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“Over there” I pointed.

“Didn’t your mama tell you not to talk to strangers?” he asked and I shrugged in both irritation and defeat.

“Oops” I muttered, feeling small. But there was nothing else to say as he walked me back to the house. My parents and granny thanked him profusely. I wasn’t covered in leeches but there was more than one. I had learned my lesson. For the rest of the trip I bugged Eli mercilessly every time I saw him, so much so that it was a running joke that I had a crush on him. Only Eli was too decent to tell me to kick rocks so he put up with it. I pass from memory to the present as I try to make sense of my reality. Granny told me stories like this as a kid. That there was no such thing as doppelgangers - only separated twins. Twins not always meaning two, just those who’d shared the same womb during gestation. If death found one twin and the other lived longer than a natural life cycle the deceased twin would be reborn to give their souls another opportunity to find each other again. So I know what he is - Eli the boy turned man who looks exactly like the Vampire keeping me indoors at night. They say twins are one of nature's greatest natural phenomenons. Mirrors that don't need reflections - souls that entered this world with their mates. Because blood has always been stronger than love and those who share the same time in a womb should also end up in the same tomb.

_______

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purplereina11 · 2 months ago

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Apart of Perfect Shot Series

Baby Girl Putellas-Segura is here

It started quietly—so quietly—you weren’t even sure at first.

You woke up before the sun, the room still cloaked in the deep grey of early morning. The house was silent, peaceful, the only sound the rhythmic breath of Alexia beside you, her arm draped protectively over your bump like it had been for months now.

But something felt… off.

Not painful, not at first. Just pressure. A strange, deep ache that rolled low in your belly and made you shift beneath the covers.

You lay still, blinking up at the ceiling, one hand drifting to your bump. You whispered softly, barely a breath, “Are you getting ready, little one?”

Another wave hit—not sharp, not dramatic, but undeniable.

You pressed your lips together, your heart picking up its pace.

Could this be it?

You reached for your phone and checked the time. 4:17 a.m.

For the next hour, you lay there quietly, timing each wave of pressure—growing a little stronger, a little longer, a little closer.

At 5:04, one came that made you really grip the edge of the mattress. You sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, biting back a sound.

That one felt real.

That one woke Alexia.

She stirred beside you, murmuring groggily, “You okay?” as she blinked herself awake.

You turned your head toward her, your face calm but your eyes glassy.

“I think I’m in labour.”

Alexia was up instantly. There was no slow waking. No sleepy blinking. Just full alertness, all hands and care, her voice suddenly clear and serious. “Are you sure?” she asked, already climbing out of bed and throwing on the first hoodie she could find.

You nodded, voice soft and shaking. “They’ve been getting stronger for the last hour.”

She was at your side in a second, kneeling beside the bed, her hands already on you, grounding you. “Okay. Alright. We’ve trained for this. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

You laughed softly, even through the rising tension. “You sound like you’re going into a final.”

She kissed your knee. “This is a final.”

The next contraction came while you were brushing your teeth. You doubled over the sink, gripping the edge as Alexia rubbed firm, soothing circles into your back.

The hospital bag was already packed—she made sure of that weeks ago. She loaded the car while you paced in the living room, stopping every few minutes to breathe through a contraction, her voice constantly in your ear: “Inhale. Exhale. That’s it. You’re doing so good, mi amor.”

By the time you reached the hospital, the contractions were five minutes apart and sharp enough to take your breath away. But every time you looked at Alexia—her jaw tight with focus, her hand never leaving yours, her thumb brushing your skin in quiet reassurance—you felt stronger.

Admitted. Monitored. Settled.

The nurse smiled kindly as she checked your progress. “You’re definitely in labour,” she said, almost amused by your calm. “And you’re already four centimetres. You’re doing amazing.”

Alexia leaned down, her forehead resting against yours. “Four down,” she whispered. “We’ve got this.”

The day stretched ahead of you—filled with movement, breath, heat, pain, love. The waiting room slowly filled with people: Eli. Alba. Carla. All pacing, texting Alexia’s phone for updates, barely holding back their excitement. But inside that room, it was just you and Alexia and the slow, powerful rhythm of a life arriving. And deep down, with every breath, with every grip of her hand and her steady voice in your ear—you knew:

Your daughter was coming.

And you were ready.

The hours blurred into each other—slow and sharp, quiet and chaotic, all wrapped in the strange timelessness of labour.

Contractions came harder now, stronger. You gripped the side of the hospital bed, the cool metal grounding you as your body swayed forward through another wave. Your forehead pressed against Alexia’s chest, and her arms were around you, steady and solid, her voice whispering low in Catalan, words of encouragement, love, anchoring you.

“You’re doing so well, mi vida,” she breathed, kissing the crown of your head. “She’s almost here. Just keep going. I’ve got you.”

You wanted to believe her. And you did. You really did. Even when you cried. Even when your breath came out in sobs. Even when you clutched her hand so tightly you were sure it would bruise. She never flinched. Never let go. There was a moment—maybe hour six or seven—where it got hard. The kind of hard no one could’ve warned you about. The part where your body felt like it was made of lightning and stone, and everything inside you wanted to scream: I can’t do this.

You whispered it once, barely audible: “Lex… I can’t do this.”

She was crouched in front of you, her forehead pressed to yours, her eyes full of tears but her voice unwavering. “You can. You are. She’s coming. Just a little more.”

You held onto her voice like it was the last light in a storm. And then—finally—the shift. The nurse came in, checked again, and this time her face lit up.

“Alright, mamá,” she said gently, her hand on your knee. “You’re fully dilated. It’s time.”

Everything went very still. Alexia looked at you, her hand still in yours. “This is it.”

You nodded, tears running down your cheeks. “She’s really coming.” The room filled quickly—lights adjusted, nurses moving, voices giving instructions—but all of it faded behind the hum of adrenaline in your blood and the absolute focus in Alexia’s eyes as she stood at your side, her fingers gripping yours tightly.

You pushed. Again. And again.

And with each cry, each push, each burning second of effort, Alexia stayed with you—her forehead pressed to yours, her voice in your ear “Push, amor, you’re almost there. She’s so close. You’re so strong. Just one more—come on. Just one more for her.”

Then—The cry. Sharp, piercing, perfect. A sound that tore through the air and shattered every ounce of pain like sunlight breaking through rain.

You sobbed, gasped, cried out as they lifted her—tiny, slippery, wailing—and laid her on your chest, her little limbs trembling with life.

Alexia’s hand covered hers, and her face broke wide open, crumpling with tears.

“She’s here,” she choked out, laughing and crying all at once. “She’s here, mi amor.”

You looked down at your daughter, your hands trembling as you cradled her, her cries slowly quieting as your skin met hers.

She was everything.

The weight of her, the warmth of her, the reality of her.

“I love you,” you whispered to her, your tears falling into her soft, damp hair. “I love you so much.”

Alexia leaned in, kissing your temple, then your cheek, then the tiny bundle on your chest.

You turned to her, eyes soaked, cheeks flushed. “We did it”

Alexia’s breath caught. “We’re parents.”

Alexia leant down to look more closely at her daughter. The second their eyes met, something in Alexia broke in the most beautiful way. She clutched her tiny arm gently, her lips pressed to her tiny forehead, and whispered:

“Hola, mi vida. I’m your mami.”

And for the first time since it all began— The world was still. Just the three of you. Exactly as you were meant to be.

The room had settled into that rare kind of quiet—soft and sacred—the kind that only comes after something life-changing.

Your daughter lay bundled against your chest, her tiny body rising and falling in rhythm with yours, still so new to the world, so delicate and impossibly real. Alexia hadn’t stopped touching—her hand brushing your hair back, her fingers gently stroking the baby’s wrinkled little feet poking from the blanket. You’d both fallen silent, completely wrapped up in her: her smell, her warmth, her being.

A knock on the door broke through the stillness. A nurse peeked in gently, her smile warm but professional. “Hi, mamas,” she said softly. “Just checking in. How are you both feeling?”

Alexia glanced at you and smiled, exhausted but glowing. “Tired. Happy. Like we’ve just been run over by a miracle.”

The nurse chuckled and stepped closer, eyes dropping to the baby. “She’s beautiful. Has she fed yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. We’ve just been… holding her.”

“That’s okay,” she said kindly. “Would you like to try now?”

You nodded, your throat a little tight. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

Alexia shifted beside you, brushing your hand as the nurse helped guide you through the process—showing you how to position her, how to angle her head, how to wait for that instinctive little open mouth movement. You followed every step. Your hands trembled slightly as you brought her close, your breath catching as you tried to help her latch. She didn’t.

Instead, she squirmed, fussed, turned her head away. You tried again. And again. She cried—a soft, pitiful whimper that shattered you.

The nurse leaned over with gentle encouragement, whispering tips, guiding your hands, but nothing worked. You could feel your chest tightening, frustration building. You were doing everything right—why wasn’t it working?

You looked up, eyes brimming. “Why won’t she latch?”

“She’s just learning,” the nurse said softly. “You both are. It’s completely normal.” But the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

“She needs me and I can’t even do this—” you choked, voice shaking. “This is the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do, and she’s… she’s hungry and she’s crying and—”

“Hey, hey,” Alexia was beside you in an instant, her arms wrapping around you and the baby, holding all three of you close like she could carry the weight of it. “Stop. You’re doing so well. You’re not failing. Look at me—look at me.” You did. Barely. Her eyes were already glassy too. “You just gave birth to her. She’s brand new. You’re both brand new. You’re allowed to learn together.”

You sniffled, pressing your forehead to hers. “I just… I want her to feel safe. To know she’s okay.”

“She does.” Alexia’s voice cracked. “She’s here. On your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You’re home to her already.”

The nurse gave you a few minutes, then gently smiled again. “We can try again later, or I can help express some colostrum and feed her that. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Before the nurse left, she paused and smiled down at your daughter. “Has she got a name yet?”

You and Alexia looked at each other, then at the baby nestled against you. Both of you shook your heads.

“Still choosing,” you murmured. “Nothing’s felt… quite right yet.”

“That’s okay,” she said kindly, touching your shoulder. “You’ll know when it does.”

When the door closed again, the silence returned. Alexia gently rested her chin on your shoulder, her eyes still locked on your daughter.“She’s strong,” you whispered. “She knew how to fight her way into the world. She’ll figure this out.”

“She gets that from you,” Alexia said.

You kissed the top of your daughter’s head, whispering, “We’ll get it right, little one. I promise.” Even without a name, she was already the centre of your universe. And soon… the name would come. The one that was hers.

—

Alexia hesitated near the doorway, one hand still clinging to the edge of the frame, her body halfway turned back toward you and your daughter—clearly torn between going and staying. Her brows were pulled slightly together, that quiet worry she always carried when it came to you sitting just beneath her surface.

You smiled through your exhaustion, still cradling your baby girl against your chest. “Go, Lex. They’re waiting.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted softly, your voice thin but firm. “I promise. We’re just going to cuddle and keep trying. I’ll call if anything changes.”

Alexia stepped back toward the bed one more time, leaned down, and kissed your forehead. Then her hand swept gently over your daughter’s back, a whispered “I love you both” falling from her lips before she finally turned and slipped out the door.

The family room wasn’t far. It was a quiet space off the maternity ward, outfitted with vending machines, tired-looking couches, and warm lighting that was trying very hard to disguise how clinical the hospital still felt.

Inside, Eli stood pacing, her eyes flicking between the hallway and her phone, while Alba sat perched on the windowsill like a nervous cat. Carla was sprawled on a couch, clearly trying to act chill but bouncing her leg like she was seconds from exploding. A few of Alexia’s closest teammates were there too—Mapi, Ingrid, Irene—each of them chatting quietly but watching the door with the kind of tension usually reserved for extra time in a final.

The moment Alexia walked in, every head turned.

“Well?!” Alba practically shouted, leaping to her feet.

Alexia couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face. It was tired and emotional and completely soaked in awe. “She’s here,” she said softly.

A chorus of gasps and cheers rang out, and everyone rushed closer. “She’s okay?” Eli asked instantly, her eyes sharp with maternal urgency. “They’re okay?”

“They’re both perfect,” Alexia nodded, her voice cracking slightly. “Tired, but safe. She did so well.”

Eli exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Alexia stepped toward her and took her hand gently, squeezing it. “She’s okay, mamí. I promise. She’s exhausted and overwhelmed and trying so hard, but she’s okay.”

Eli blinked quickly, nodding, her throat bobbing with emotion. “I just… I needed to hear it from you. I was so worried.”

“She’s stronger than she thinks,” Alexia said softly, and the words came out so full of pride you could feel the love in the room shift.

“Can we see her?” Carla asked, already halfway out of her seat.

Alexia shook her head gently. “Not yet. The nurses want the baby to feed and be checked by the doctor first before any visitors go in.”

A collective sigh filled the room—some disappointed, but no one argued. Alexia smiled again, digging into the pocket of her hoodie.“But…” she said, pulling out her phone, “I can show you this.”

She held it out, and they all crowded close. The photo on the screen was simple: you, propped up against the pillows in your hospital bed, your hair a little wild, your face pale and damp with tears, but your expression so full of love it could stop time. And nestled on your chest—tiny, pink, blinking up at the world like it was all too bright already—was her.

Your baby girl.

There were gasps. Quiet sniffles. A few stunned, whispered “wow”s.

“She’s beautiful,” Mapi said softly, her hand over her mouth.

“She’s real,” Alba whispered, wide-eyed.

“She has your nose,” Ingrid added, nudging Alexia gently.

Alexia smiled, eyes misting again as she took her phone back. “We’re still deciding her name. But she’s everything already.”

Eli stepped forward, cupping Alexia’s face in her hands. “You’re everything,” she said. “The both of you. And she’s going to be surrounded by so much love.”

Alexia nodded, her voice low. “She already is.”

They sat together after that, the group of them huddled in that quiet family room—some laughing, some wiping away tears, all waiting for the moment they’d get to meet the little girl who had just arrived and already taken over all their hearts. And back in your room, holding her close against your chest, you whispered softly into the curve of your daughter’s ear:

“They’re ready for you, baby girl. Whenever you are.”

The door opened softly, and Alexia slipped back into the room, careful not to let it click shut behind her too loudly. The family had calmed—Eli had cried, Alba had nearly passed out from pacing, and everyone had promised to be patient for their turn to meet the baby her teammates promising to return tomorrow since it was late and they had an early training.

She expected to find you resting, maybe dozing off with your daughter nestled against your chest.

What she found instead was you, wide awake, eyes red and glossy, bottom lip trembling as you stared down at the tiny bundle of pink swaddling nestled between your legs on the hospital bed. Her chest tightened instantly.

“Mi amor…?” she said softly, crossing the room in two strides. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t look at her at first. Just kept staring down, blinking too fast, your breaths uneven.

Alexia perched on the edge of the bed, worry creeping into every line of her body. “Hey… talk to me. Are you in pain?”

You shook your head quickly and then, after a beat, your voice came, fragile and quiet. “She looks like him.”

Alexia frowned, confused. “Who—?”

You lifted your eyes to meet hers, and they were shining with tears. “Your dad.”

Alexia froze, her breath catching like it had been yanked from her lungs.

You glanced down at the baby again, gently running your thumb across her soft cheek, your hand trembling slightly. “Her nose. Her jaw. Even the way her little eyebrows sit. Lex… she looks like your dad.”

Alexia didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

You looked up at her again, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “I didn’t see it before, but now that she’s asleep—her face relaxed like that—I just… it hit me all at once. She’s his double.” Your voice cracked on the word. “I never got to meet him. But I feel like I’m holding a piece of him right now.”

Alexia's throat bobbed. Her eyes were wide, glassy, lips parted in stunned silence as she slowly turned her gaze to your daughter. She reached out with a trembling hand and gently brushed her finger along the baby’s tiny brow, her touch reverent.

And there it was. The shape of her eyes. The slight downward curve at the corners of her mouth. The arch of her nose—familiar in a way that felt almost impossible. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice breaking completely. “She does.”

You nodded, barely holding it together. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to upset you. But I kept looking at her and I just—Lex, I wish he could see her. I wish he was here.”

Alexia let out a quiet sob, biting her lip hard as tears slipped down her cheeks. She leaned forward, one hand on your leg, the other gently cradling her daughter’s head as if she could feel him in her bones now—like somehow, through all the heartbreak and loss, he had made his way back to her, to you, through her. “I see him,” she whispered, her forehead resting lightly on your shoulder. “I see him so clearly.”

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her as tightly as you could with the baby curled between you both. Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence didn’t need filling. It was sacred. It was him.

Eventually, you leaned back just slightly, your voice a whisper. “Tell me she doesn’t look just like him.”

Alexia laughed softly through her tears, brushing her nose against yours, her eyes never leaving your daughter’s face. “She does,” she murmured. “But she also looks like us. And she’s going to grow up knowing exactly who he was.”

You nodded, reaching down to gently squeeze Alexia’s hand over your baby’s chest. “She already feels like she’s carrying his strength,” you said. “And your heart.”

Alexia looked down at her daughter, her voice catching as she whispered, “Papá would’ve loved her.”

And in that quiet, tear-soaked moment, the three of you sat in a tangle of love and memory—Alexia’s past meeting your future in the form of one tiny, sleeping girl who had unknowingly brought someone home.

The room was dim again, late afternoon light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting golden lines across the hospital bed. The noise from the corridor outside was distant now, muffled behind the closed door—just the occasional shuffle of feet or soft call from a nurse.

Inside your little cocoon, it was peaceful. Still.

You were exhausted, but a different kind of exhaustion now. The kind that came with hope, and softness, and the weight of a miracle lying warm in your arms. Your daughter stirred gently against your chest, her lips brushing your skin in that searching, instinctive way. You held your breath, your hand supporting the back of her tiny head, and guided her closer, just as the nurse had shown you hours earlier.

This time—finally—she latched.

Your body stiffened with the surprise of it. Then relaxed, like a wave had passed over you. No fussing. No turning away. No crying. Just her, finally feeding, like she’d known how all along and had simply needed the right moment.

Your eyes instantly filled with tears—this time not from frustration or fear, but from relief so deep it hit your bones. Alexia had been perched quietly beside you in the chair, one leg tucked under her, watching every second with bated breath. When she realised what had happened, her whole body jolted with joy—but she caught herself, clamping a hand over her mouth to stop from cheering aloud.

Instead, she did a silent fist pump.

Then another.

Then leaned forward and gently buried her face against your shoulder, her whole body trembling with relief and pride. Her voice came in a whisper, thick with emotion. “She’s doing it. You’re doing it.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d cry over this, but—God, Lex—it feels like everything.”

Alexia kissed your temple, then your cheek, then the side of your mouth, her hand cupping the back of your head like she needed to hold you in place, ground herself to this exact second. “She’s incredible,” she whispered.

“She is,” you murmured. Then, a beat. “And I think… I know her name.”

Alexia pulled back just slightly, her eyes wide, searching your face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your fingers tracing gentle circles on the back of your daughter’s tiny neck. “I keep thinking about what your Mamí said months ago… when we were first talking about names. Sofía. I couldn’t stop hearing it in my head today. And now that I’ve seen her, now that I’ve felt her… I can’t picture her as anything else.”

Alexia blinked, her lips parting in soft surprise. “Sofía.”

You nodded again. “And… I thought we could give her your dad’s name, too. As her second. Juame. It’s soft. Strong. Timeless. And neutral. It belongs to her as much as it belonged to him.”

Alexia just stared at you, eyes glistening, lips trembling like she was trying not to fall apart completely. “Sofía Juame,” she whispered, the name barely audible, like a prayer. She said it again, a little firmer. “Sofía Juame.”

You watched her fall in love with the name in real time.

“She’s going to carry that name,” Alexia said, her hand resting over your daughter’s back. “She’s going to make it mean something. Just like he did.”

“She already does,” you said softly.

Alexia nodded, swallowing hard. Then leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your daughter’s head. “Hola, Sofía,” she whispered. “Welcome to our little family, your furry brothers will love you.” And Sofía, as if she knew, let out the smallest, softest sigh against your skin—completely content.

“You like the name? Don’t just agree because I’ve just birthed her, please be honest”

Alexia gave you the softest smile, “I love her name, and I love that mami picked it and papa is involved to” You kissed before both staring down at the little girl feeding contently.

The room had grown quiet again.

Your daughter slept peacefully in your arms, her tiny chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm, one hand curled into the neckline of your hospital gown like she was already claiming you. You were completely wrapped in the moment, your body still sore but your heart so full it was hard to breathe.

A gentle knock came at the door and one of the nurses stepped in, her smile kind.

“Everything okay?” she asked, moving to check on the monitors with quiet efficiency.

You nodded, adjusting Sofía slightly in your arms. “She’s finally sleeping after feeding,” you whispered, pride and relief laced through your voice.

The nurse smiled wider, then looked to Alexia, who was perched on the edge of the armchair near the window, watching the two of you like she’d never blink again.

“Would you like to do some skin-to-skin time with her?” the nurse asked gently, directing it to Alexia.

Alexia blinked. “Me?”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “It’s not just for the birthing parent. It’s a great way for babies to start bonding with Mami, too.”

You watched Alexia’s face shift—surprise first, then something softer, something so deep it nearly cracked her open.

You nodded at her, smiling. “Do it. She’ll love it.”

Alexia hesitated only a second before standing, rubbing her hands together nervously as the nurse helped adjust the chair and handed her a fresh blanket.

She slipped off her hoodie, then her T-shirt, folding them carefully before sitting back down, now bare-chested and visibly emotional. Her skin was golden in the soft light, her breath uneven.

You carefully rose from the bed and walked the few steps to her, your arms wrapped tightly around Sofía. As you lowered her into Alexia’s waiting arms, something in your chest caught.

Because the moment her skin touched Alexia’s, Sofía stirred.

Just slightly. Her little head shifted, and a tiny sigh left her lips. Her cheek rested against her mami’s chest like it belonged there. Like she knew exactly who this was.

Alexia froze.

Her eyes welled instantly, her lips parting as she stared down at the impossibly tiny life pressed against her heart. One hand cradled Sofía’s head, the other instinctively resting across her back, holding her as gently as if she were made of glass.

“Hola.” she whispered, voice trembling. “Hola, mi pequeña.”

You sat on the bed, watching it all unfold—Alexia blinking rapidly as tears streamed down her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat.

“She’s so small,” she whispered, more to herself. “And she’s… ours. She’s really ours.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers over Alexia’s arm as Sofia settled deeper into Alexia’s chest.

“She knows you,” you said softly. “She’s known you since before she got here.”

Alexia looked at you then, her eyes full of something ancient and powerful and brand new all at once.

“I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did,” she whispered, “and then I saw you become her mamá.”

Your hand slid into hers, holding her tightly as your daughter slept, skin to skin, heart to heart, between the two people who loved her more than anything in the world.

And for the first time since the moment she arrived—there was only peace.

The family room was quieter than it had been yesterday—less buzzing, more soft murmurs and tired smiles. It had the comforting stillness of early morning, when everything feels calmer, like the world’s holding its breath in reverence for something sacred. Alexia’s teammates long going home having to prepare for practice today leaving behind Eli and Alba.

Eli and Alba were seated side by side on the couch, deep in quiet conversation. Alba had her legs tucked under her, hair thrown in a messy bun, flipping through a baby magazine someone had left behind. Eli was staring absently at her phone, eyes tired but kind, tapping out a message that she clearly wasn’t in a hurry to send.

The door creaked open.

Eli looked up first—and stilled.

You stood just inside the threshold, one arm lightly gripping the nurse for support, the other resting protectively on your belly, even though the bump was now an empty cradle. You were pale, your hair loose around your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the effort of walking, but your eyes were shining. Raw. Brighter than they’d ever seen them.

Eli rose first. Slowly. Like she couldn’t quite believe you were real. Like seeing you there, on your feet, in the same clothes from yesterday and somehow more powerful than ever, was too much.

And then she moved—quickly, wordlessly—and before you could breathe, you were wrapped in her arms.

Tight. Warm. Solid.

You exhaled shakily into her shoulder, and it all came out. The tears. The ache. The overwhelming swell in your chest that had been building since the moment Sofía had been placed on your chest.

You sobbed. Not loud, not frantic—just helpless, soul-deep crying, the kind that came when you’d been brave for too long.

“I did it,” you whispered, your voice breaking open like a flood. “I really did it.”

Eli held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head like she used to do with Alexia. “Of course you did,” she whispered. “You brought her here. You made her. She’s here because of you.”

You shook in her arms, overwhelmed by the weight of it all—of being a mother now, of the pain, the joy, the immensity of what you’d just done.

Behind you, the nurse stepped out, gently closing the door to give you the moment.

Alba was on her feet now too, watching quietly. And for once, she didn’t interrupt, didn’t fill the space with jokes or quips. She stepped closer slowly, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

She brushed your arm lightly. “You look like a woman who just performed a miracle,” she said gently.

You gave a breathy laugh through your tears. “I feel like one. A sore, emotional miracle.”

“You’re allowed,” Alba said. “You earned it.”

Eli eventually eased back, her hands still on your arms, her eyes glassy now too. “How are you feeling? Really?”

You sniffled, wiping your face, voice fragile but sure. “Like I’ve been cracked open. But like… like I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. For her.”

Alba smiled, her voice unusually soft. “She’s got no idea how lucky she is.”

You nodded slowly. “She will. I’ll make sure she does.”

Eli took your hand in both of hers and kissed it. “And we’ll make sure you know how proud we are. Of you. Always.”

You stood there with them, in a quiet pocket of the hospital, heart wide open and full of everything—grief and love and power and softness.

And down the hallway, you knew, Alexia was still holding your daughter to her chest, whispering the world into her ear.

And now you were ready to walk back to them.

Back to your girls. You looked up at them now, your voice soft.

“Do you… want to come meet her?”

Alba’s eyes lit up immediately, but she didn’t jump from her seat like she normally would have. Instead, she blinked fast, the smile she wore a little shaky.

“Are you sure?” Eli asked gently, as though she’d been waiting for your permission, even though her hands twitched like she wanted to run down the hallway.

You nodded. “She’s eaten. She’s sleeping. And I… I want you to see her. I know you want to have a cuddle with her desperately to”

Eli placed her hand over yours and squeezed it once, firmly. “We’d be honoured.”

You walked slower this time, without the nurse, but with your arms looped gently around theirs. The hall was quiet, and each step made your heart thrum with something that felt sacred.

When you turned the corner to your room, you noticed the door was already cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway.

You paused in the doorway first— and there she was.

Alexia stood near the window, bathed in the early morning light. One arm cradled against her chest, the other supporting your baby girl—Sofía Juame, wrapped in her pale pink blanket. She was rocking slowly, back and forth in that instinctive, natural rhythm you hadn’t even known Alexia had in her. Her head was bent low, her mouth close to the baby's ear.

And she was singing. A gentle, low lullaby in Catalan, the words soft and imperfect—half spoken, half hummed—but the melody was unmistakably familiar. You’d heard her hum it once before. The night you first talked about having a baby. You didn’t recognise it then, but when you’d asked, Alexia had told you with a quiet smile: “It’s what my dad used to sing to me when I couldn’t sleep.”

She hadn’t sung it since. Until now.

You watched in silence, overwhelmed. Eli, standing just behind you, brought a hand to her mouth and froze. The breath she took was shaky, sharp. You turned and wrapped your arms around her, gently guiding her into the hug she clearly needed but hadn’t wanted to ask for.

She folded into you, completely, her face pressed into your shoulder, her whole body trembling with the emotion of seeing her daughter sing to hers. “I can’t believe this moment exists,” she whispered.

You nodded, your own tears already brimming again. “She’s everything, Eli. She’s everything he would’ve loved.”

She nodded against you, unable to speak for a second, just holding you like a mother would hold a daughter, grateful and grieving all at once. Alba wiped at her face quickly behind you, then whispered, “You have to interrupt her eventually or I’m going to sob in the hallway forever.”

You gave a teary laugh, pulled back from Eli, and knocked gently on the doorframe. Alexia turned slowly, and the look on her face—that look—was almost too much to take. Her eyes were wet, but her expression was completely calm, a kind of stillness only love could bring.

“You’ve got visitors,” you said gently.

She smiled, her lips brushing Sofía’s temple before she stepped back from the window. “Come meet her.”

Eli stepped forward first, still holding your hand, as if she needed to hold onto something solid as she approached the newest member of her family. And when she reached them—her daughter and her granddaughter—she didn’t speak at first.

She just reached out, cupped Sofía’s tiny head, and kissed her softly, whispering something private in Catalan that made Alexia close her eyes, swallowing hard.

Alba finally stepped in too, slower than usual, her voice quiet and cracked. “Okay,” she said, brushing a tear from her cheek as she peered down at her niece. “I get it now. She really is perfect.”

And in that room, wrapped in light and music and history, your little girl rested—held by the arms that would never let her fall.

Alba hovered near the edge of the hospital bed, her hands clasped tightly behind her back like she was physically restraining herself from scooping Sofía up into her arms. Her eyes were glued to the baby, wide and shining, a permanent smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Then she blinked, as if realising something far too important had yet to be said.

“Wait,” she whispered, her gaze flicking between you and Alexia. “Did you name her yet? What’s her name? Don’t tell me I’ve just been staring at her like she’s a work of art and she’s still called ‘baby girl Putellas’ on the charts.”

You and Alexia shared a look—soft, quiet, full of everything you’d both been feeling since you whispered her name aloud for the first time the night before. Alexia gently rocked her daughter in her arms, her hand brushing over the tiny pink hat covering her soft tufts of hair.

You sat up straighter, eyes never leaving the small, sleepy face in Alexia’s arms. “She has a name,” you said quietly. “We wanted to be sure before we told anyone. We wanted to see her first. Feel who she was.”

Alba leaned in a little. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging, I’m emotionally unstable already.”

You took a breath, your voice trembling with emotion. “Her name is… Sofía.”

There was a beat of silence—then Alba’s brows lifted, a smile tugging at her lips. “Sofía,” she said, testing it out.

At your nod, Alba let out a soft laugh. “She actually looks like a Sofía.”

You laughed too, quietly—but it was Eli who hadn’t said anything.

“Her middle name is Juame” You spoke carefully, Alba snapped her head to you, “So I’d like you to officially meet Sofía Juame Putellas Segura”

She stepped forward slowly, her eyes locked on her granddaughter, and then flicked to you, her lip trembling. “Juame…” she whispered. The name barely made it out of her mouth. “You gave her his name.”

You nodded again, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “I hope that's ok. We wanted her to have something of him. Something strong. Timeless. Something that… carries him forward.”

Eli’s eyes welled instantly. She brought her hand to her chest, staggered slightly like the moment had taken the breath right from her lungs. “I can’t believe…” she murmured, shaking her head gently, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I suggested Sofía and you… you used Juame. You gave your precious little girl our names.”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “She looks like him, Eli. And she’s going to grow up with stories about him, and you, and this family. She’s going to know exactly who she came from. It only felt right when she is that much like him that she has his name”

Alexia’s voice was soft, broken with emotion as she gazed down at Sofía. “We wanted her to carry his name, have his part in her. And we wanted her to carry yours too, in a way. You’re the reason I’m the woman I am. You’re the reason she has this family to be born into.”

Eli couldn’t speak anymore. She just stepped forward and pressed her lips to Sofía’s forehead, her tears falling gently onto the soft pink fabric of her hat. “Sofía Juame,” she whispered again. “He would’ve loved her so much.”

And you knew, in that still, sacred moment—that your daughter had already brought a piece of him back into the world. And that in naming her, you hadn’t just honoured the past. You’d woven it into the future.

Alexia looked down at her daughter for another long moment, then slowly turned toward her mother. “Mami,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as the moment itself. “Do you want to hold her?”

Eli looked up, startled, like she hadn’t dared to ask. Her lips parted, trembling, eyes red-rimmed and watery. She nodded once, unable to speak.

Alexia moved gently, as if she were handing over a piece of the universe itself. She shifted Sofía with careful hands, cradling her like something sacred, then stepped forward and placed her into Eli’s waiting arms.

The moment Sofía settled against her grandmother’s chest, Eli let out a sound that was half a breath, half a sob. “Oh…” she whispered, eyes fixed on the baby’s face. “Oh, mi amor.”

She brought one hand up to Sofía’s cheek, brushing a fingertip ever so lightly down the soft curve of her tiny jaw. Her thumb paused under the baby’s chin, trembling, and then she inhaled sharply.

“She looks like him,” she whispered, voice cracked. “My Juame. She looks just like him, I couldn’t see properly before but I can see him now.” Eli sat slowly, never once breaking her gaze from the baby in her arms. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks now, one after another, no shame, no restraint—just raw, overwhelmed emotion. “She has his eyes,” Eli murmured. “His mouth, too. And that crease between the brows, even while she sleeps—that’s him. I used to tease him about it.” She laughed quietly, brokenly. “He’d furrow his brow when he read, and now she’s doing it in her sleep…”

You felt it in your throat before you even saw it—Alba, standing silently at the foot of the bed, eyes shining and glassy, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “She does,” Alba whispered. “She really does.”

You reached out without thinking, pulling her gently down beside you on the edge of the bed. She didn’t fight it—she just crumpled into your side, burying her face against your shoulder, her quiet sobs muffled but deep. You held her tightly, one arm wrapped around her back, your cheek resting on top of her head as she cried.

“She’s a part of him,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your own tears slipping freely now. “He’s still here because of her. Because of all of you.”

Alexia knelt beside her mother’s chair, one hand resting on Eli’s knee, the other gently stroking Sofía’s back. Her eyes never left them—her mother and daughter, bound now in something eternal. Eli bent her head, pressing her lips to Sofía’s forehead and lingering there. “Mi pequeña,” she whispered, “you are more than we ever dared to hope for.” And the room—filled with three generations of love, grief, legacy, and new beginnings—went quiet, except for the steady breathing of one small girl, who had no idea yet the kind of love she had been born into. But she would. You’d make sure of it.

The hours passed in a kind of dreamlike haze—a slow stretch of time that didn’t quite feel real, as though the whole day had been wrapped in cotton and warmth and the scent of your newborn daughter’s skin.

Eli and Alba never left. Not once.

Eli sat comfortably in the armchair by the window, Sofía in her arms or resting in the bassinet beside her, her gaze never straying far from her granddaughter’s peaceful face. She was the picture of quiet awe, whispering soft Catalan lullabies and sharing little stories about Alexia’s own baby days that made your heart swell.

Alba, meanwhile, had appointed herself “gatekeeper,” posted proudly at the door like some overexcited security detail—only she wasn’t turning anyone away. She was ushering them in.

One by one, players from Alexia’s team began to filter in, each with shy smiles, quiet laughter, and hands filled with snacks, balloons, or tiny baby gifts they ‘definitely didn’t plan’ but somehow all brought.

The first to arrive was Ingrid and Mapi, Ingrid walked gently into the room with a bouquet of wildflowers and a tiny crocheted elephant tucked into her elbow.

“Oh my God,” she whispered when she saw Sofía. “She’s so small. You made that?”

Alexia grinned, her hand wrapped around your waist. “Perfect isn’t she.”

Ingrid pressed a kiss to your cheek and then Alexia’s, before quietly crouching down beside the bassinet. “She already has your eyebrows,” she whispered. “Poor thing.”

That set off another round of gentle laughter. Mapi however showed up with a pair of pink baby sunglasses and a pacifier that looked suspiciously like a miniature Barça ball.

“She’s got to be on brand,” she said proudly. “And I’m calling dibs on being the godmother who teaches her to swear in at least three languages.”

“She’s not even a day old, Mapi,” you groaned, but your smile was wide and warm.

Later, Irene arrived with a box of pastries and a letter she’d written for Sofía to read when she turned 18, sealed and wrapped in ribbon. You stared at it, speechless.

“I wanted her to know what kind of world she was born into,” Irene said, a little sheepish. “And how lucky she is to have you two as her mamís.”

Alba, already teary again, dramatically shoved tissues at everyone without being asked.

The visits continued all day—sometimes one player, sometimes two. Some stayed only for five minutes, others sat with you a while, cooing over the baby, asking you how you felt, hugging Alexia tightly like they could see how cracked open and glowing she was.

And through it all, Eli stayed. Quietly watching her daughter move around the room, introducing her daughter to her teammates—her sisters. She watched Alexia beam with pride each time someone commented on Sofía’s name, or her full head of hair, or her perfect little pout.

She leaned toward you at one point, her voice low.

“I’ve never seen her look so... full,” she said softly, eyes wet. “She’s always been strong. But this—this love—it’s made her whole.”

You nodded, unable to speak, watching your wife across the room as she gently held Sofía in her arms while Mapi adjusted the baby sunglasses over the blanket.

“She’s never going to remember today,” Eli added, looking at Sofía now. “But I will. Every second.”

And you would too.

Every smile, every cry, every soft “hola, pequeña” spoken from one loving voice to another.

Your daughter had been born into more than a family. She’d been born into a team. One that would never let her fall.

It was early evening by the time Carla finally burst through the door, as subtle as a marching band and exactly as dramatic as you needed her to be.

“Move,” she barked playfully at Alba, who was still guarding the doorway like a loyal hound with a mild caffeine problem. “I’ve got a medical emergency.”

You blinked up from your spot in the hospital bed, where you were nestled under the covers, your daughter sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside you, your legs stretched out and aching in that oddly satisfying I-just-made-a-human way.

Carla marched in, sunglasses still perched on top of her head despite the fact that the sun had dipped hours ago, and she was holding—no, presenting—a large brown paper bag like it contained the cure to all earthly suffering.

“I come bearing the only thing that matters right now.”

The smell hit you before anything else—greasy, salty, divine.

You sat up a little straighter, your body instinctively reacting before your brain even processed.

“Is that—?”

Carla grinned, slipping the bag into your lap like she’d just handed over a sacred text. “Double cheeseburger. Large fries. And because I’m the best friend you’ll ever have: large chocolate milkshake. And extra sweet curry sauces. You’re welcome.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out—just a small, awed sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

You looked at her with teary, desperate gratitude. “Carla… I’ve never loved you more in my life.”

Alexia laughed quietly as she peaked at the baby in her bassinet when she made a little noise. “I was literally present for the birth of our child.”

“And yet,” you said, already unwrapping the burger with shaking hands, “Carla brought me cheese.”

Eli chuckled from the armchair, watching you bite into the burger like it was the first food you’d ever tasted. “She’s earned a few points, I’ll give her that.”

Carla dropped dramatically into the empty chair beside your bed, smug. “I’m not saying I’m your real soulmate, but I did time this delivery for maximum emotional impact.”

You chewed slowly, eyes closed, groaning in utter bliss, “You did,” you mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “You so did.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but smiled, settling beside you on the bed as you reached blindly for a fry like someone starved in a desert.

“She couldn’t eat anything the whole labour,” she explained to Carla, one hand on your thigh. “She was running on adrenaline and ice chips. I offered a banana. She nearly threw it at me.”

“I told you,” Carla said proudly. “When in doubt—grease and dairy.” She leaned forward slightly, peeking at the sleeping baby in the bassinet. “She’s perfect, by the way. Absolutely worth every second of starvation. But I’m not above bribing her into loving me most. I already have a baby-sized hoodie that says ‘Team Carla.’”

You laughed mid-chew, almost choking on your fry, and reached out to squeeze her wrist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re radiant. And hormonal. So I’ll take my compliments now, please.”

You grinned, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “You’re the best. Seriously. I love you.”

Carla softened, brushing your knuckles. “I love you too. Always. Even when you’ve got milkshake on your chin and hormones in your throat.”

“Charming,” Alexia muttered.

“Truthful,” Carla shot back, winking.

And in that room—full of fries, soft laughter, a sleeping baby girl, and the warm scent of cheeseburgers—you realised that love really did come in many forms.

Some in lullabies.

Some in family names.

And some in a greasy paper bag handed over at exactly the right moment.

Your first blind date with Alexia, feels like a whole other world away now, but it was the most perfect shot you ever took.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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cillians-sweetheart · 4 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/cillians-sweetheart/772157725448847360/whos-got-fic-ideas-i-got-writers

Maybe Cills with a younger reader (25-35 ish?) and they actually decided not to have more children but she gets accidentally pregnant? But of angst but ends with fluff? Sorry very basic 😭

Not basic! Love it!! 😋 And I hope you love it too!

A Miracle Arrival - Cillian Murphy

Cillian Murphy(36) x Wife!Reader(25)

Plot: After a date night, Y/N and Cillian put the kids to bed and have some well needed alone time that ends in an unexpected surprise.

Content: kissing, slight sexual content, speak of menstruation, marriage, kids, pregnancy, emotional melt down (f), fluff

During our four years of marriage, people would expect that after a few months, our desires towards each other would just disappear and we wouldn't crave to touch each other day to day. But that wasn’t the case. In a marriage between two heavily passionate lovers meant that our love from our wedding day to today, never changed. Not even fading in the slightest.

Already at age 25, I’ve had 2 beautiful children. The perfect duo of an older daughter (Georgia), and younger son (Christian), ages three and one. Our daughter, now being able to speak full sentences, has begun to develop Cillians accent. But it wasn't surprising as she always took after him, and loved him more than me. And my son is the opposite, a mini me with his looks and attitude.

We decided after having Christian that we were done for children. Having two toddlers was difficult but also I couldn't picture myself going through labour ever again. Two was enough.

On a Friday evening, Cillians mother came by the house to watch the children for a few hours and put them to bed while he and I went out. We learned that monthly dates help keep the spark in our relationship. It wasn’t that we didn’t feel anything towards each other anymore, we just feared that someday that spark would be gone.

“So… I was thinking that after dinner, we would send mom home and just lay low in the bedroom for the night. Yeah?” Cillian offered, holding his glass of wine in his hand. .

“Yes,” I answered, reading through the menu. “I don’t really have the energy for anything fancy. Laying in bed sounds perfect.”

And that’s what we did. At first.

When we got home his mother sat in the living room reading a book, but left shortly after as we were now home. The house was silent and the kids were asleep. We didn’t waste a single moment to finally be lazy after both of our long days.

We changed into comfortable clothes, and cuddled closely beneath the warm duvet. The tv played a show we hadn’t paid attention to and the tension between us grew hotter with each passing moment. And once our single kiss became sloppy and never-ending, the tv came off. As with our clothes.

It all happened so quickly. In just seconds he was above me kissing roughly at my neck, and my legs tightly wrapped around his hips. We didn’t think about anything in the moment, nothing but wanting more from each other's bodies. The pleasure filling both of us made it almost impossible to stay quiet. I had to bite back moans, hiding in his muscular shoulder.

After the hour which felt of 20 minutes, we both fell weak side by side. I didn’t think of anything but just being ready to go to sleep in the arms of the man I loved.

A month went by and life carried on -as usual- I was ‘delightfully’ greeted by an absence of my period. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I’m a week overdue. My heart sank at the possible reason why I was like this. Why I was late, nauseated, and really hungry.

While Cillian was off at work I stopped by the drug store and to the aisle I really didn’t want to be in. With rows and rows of pregnancy tests. I looked over my shoulders and quickly scanned over the several options of tests. I picked the cheapest one to not cause suspicion on Cillian and I’s shared credit card. If it had to come to it, I’d say I bought the kids some candy.

I waited anxiously for the remainder of the day. I was terrified to take that test, but also itching to get an answer. If I were pregnant, I’d need to plan what was going to happen, and if I wasn’t I could’ve been rattled for nothing. So I took the test.

I hid myself in Cillian and I’s bathroom while he made supper for the kids. The test shook from my shaky hands as my eyes squeezed shut waiting for it to be done. And after two minutes, I flipped the little plastic stick towards me. two bright red lines.

My mind went blank. I was in shock, and felt nothing. Until a minute after the fear kicked in and I cried and puked the way I did when pregnant with Christian. All those memories of my fat, stretched skin, and agonzing contractions, came back to me like a bullet to the skull. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t afford another child, nor could my body. How would I ever tell Cillian…

It wasn’t until 5 minutes later I was able to clear my tears. Quickly, I coated my face in concealer to hide the redness to not cause worry to Cillian or our children. I put on an awkward grin and entered the kitchen to where Cillian had been spoon feeding our youngest, and Georgia putting her food everywheres it wasn't supposed to.

“Hey,” He turned his head towards me, standing straight from kneeling on the floor. “You alright?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah I just needed to use the bathroom.” I walked past him with a napkin and wiped our daughter's messy face.

Cillian didn’t take any suspicion, and continued to feed Christian and clean the kitchen. He was always so good with them. Like he could hundreds and do perfectly fine. But there was no way I was having a third child. Because it was me that would actually birth them, not him.

After supper with the kids tucked into bed, Cillian and I sat closely on the couch in the living room watching the Tv. My legs laid over his lap and my head rested against his shoulder. His gentle hand lightly stroked my thigh. I began to remember all those feelings from earlier. The fear, the angst, the pain. Tightness grew in my chest and my face turned cold. I was frozen in my spot. Tears welding in my eyes.

My breath being held and my slight shaking caught Cillian’s attention from the Tv. Taking the remote in his hand, he turned the Tv off and turned his face down to mine.”Y/N? Baby.” He took my cheek in his hand and turned me to look at him. “What’s going on?” His voice held concern but tenderness. His thumb lightly rubbing my cheek.

“I um…” I froze up, looking down with a single tear falling from my right eye. I debated in my head with other answers besides the truth to tell him. I dreaded telling him such a thing.

“What love?” His face leaned down closer to mine with sympathy in his eyes.

“I- I’m pregnant.” My eyes fell down to my lap with shame. It became silent for a moment. An unbreakable tension grew heavy between us.

“Are you- Really?” I nodded with another tear rolling down my cheek. “Oh sweetheart.” Cillian pulled me into his chest, holding me while I broke down into the same emotional state I was when pregnant with Georgia and Christian.

Cillian lightly rubbed my belly while his other hand stroked my back.

“I don't know what to do.” I sniffled and choked on my tears. “I can’t do this… I’m already a crap mom, I- I can't have another one!” I said with irritation mostly towards myself.

“No you’re not love.” Cillian cooed, kissing the top of my head.

“But,” I mumbled. “You do so much for them… while I hide in the bathroom.”

He took my face in my hands looking seriously into my eyes. “A real mother is one who is not afraid to have her own space.”

I looked back at Cillian with adoration and nodded at his words. “I just… my body can’t go through this again.”

“Is it your body, or your mind?”

“I don’t even know anymore…”

“Well, I want you to do whatever it is that feels right. Okay?”

“Mhm,” I nodded. “But if I did somehow want to have another… would you mind?” My watery eyes glared up to his.

“Not at all love, I love our children and would love just as many more.” He grinned the same grin that made me fall in love with him for the first time. I felt the warmth and tenderness in his voice. “Do you want another?”

“Well I don’t want to get rid of this one…” I lightly rubbed my lower belly. Cillian’s hand held over top of mine.

“We don’t have to then. I’d be more than happy for another baby.” He kissed my forehead. “If there was anyway they’d turn out like our already beautiful children, then how could I say no.”

I looked up with a warm smile at him. “Oh I love you…” I said lovingly touching his cheek with my hand.

“I love you too my love.”

And nine months later with Cillian at my side, I was handed the most precious baby girl who held my every feature. My twin. She cooed lightly and her eyes twinkled open for the first time in the light. And when those little eyes fully opened, they melted with love seeing my face.

She was so perfect, an angel little girl. And everyday since the day she was born, I thanked Cillian for being the loving husband he is and teaching me to listen to my heart. Because if I hadn’t that day I wouldn’t have had this sweet girl who I later named Mila. My miracle sent from heaven.

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #Cillian #pregnancy #accidental pregnancy #fluff fic #Cillian Murphy fluff

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nanamiskentos · 6 months ago

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r/AsksReddit | Help! I think I accidentally summoned the King of Curses ! ⌦ part one of ?

💬 hi reddit, i know this sounds fake but i swear on my life it's true. i was just messing around with this prank book my friends got me last christmas and it had some 'ancient' summoning spells in it. i didn't even think it would work but there's a 7ft demon looking guy sitting on my couch and i don't know how to get rid of him.

Sorry, this post has been removed by moderators of r/AsksReddit. MOD: Please ask real and serious questions, thank you.

💬 update! the mods removed my post but i'm genuinely telling the truth here. anyway, it turns out that by summoning him, i think i bound us together for eternity. sukuna (that's his name) isn't that bad and he's kinda like a big, lazy cat.

u/9to5exorcist : Ryomen Sukuna? Are you quite sure? u/tenshadowsanimalcrossing : You're joking, no way u summoned sukuna lmfao. u/you : not joking! i took him grocery shopping today! u/SixEyesSensei : dm me asap!!!! please!!!!!!!!!!!!!

inspired by @kasukuna and the most amazing dumbass boyfriend!sukuna fics 🤎

absolutely refuses to use your furniture properly. sukuna insults your apartment for at least 2 whole days and calls it a sad, little domain. he has no idea what paying rent is like in this economy. lounges across the couch with all four arms spread, sits on the kitchen counters, and insists on rearranging your entire living room spread so he can move around it easier.

now you're constantly sleep deprived by having this deadbeat, massive behemoth of an awful flatmate. sukuna keeps telling you that he's a medieval sorcerer, someone who flattened entire clans and mountains but it's hard to take him seriously when he keeps hitting his head on your low ceilings. he's always so loud around the apartment, complaining about how boring it is for him to be stuck and bound to you forever. if you're a university student or just someone who's employed, he thinks he's being helpful by offering to curse your professors/employees.

you have to beg him to get some real clothes. you're slowly getting used to the anatomically strange sight of a 7ft man with four arms, but you know that others are going to call the police. he's usually wondering around your apartment and loitering in his loose, wide pants. nothing else, not even a shirt. occasionally sukuna will drape a cloak around his torso but you have to basically wrestle a baggy shirt over his head. and he bites you, at least thrice.

refuses to help clean, and claims he's very much above menial labour. one day, you threaten to leave sukuna hungry if he doesn't contribute for at least five minutes. he begrudgingly starts picking up after himself, but not before bestowing you with the ugliest death threats of all time.

sukuna is the very definition of a lazy freeloader. well, you told him to be useful and get a job, but then the idea of him causing more problems and insurance paperwork later made you break out in a cold sweat. so he usually spends his hours just loitering around your apartment, and draining your resources. never puts dishes in the sink and still doesn't grasp the concept of a fridge so he's always leaving the door open.

but he is very curious about modern day life. seems like the world has really moved ahead in the one thousand years that sukuna hasn't walked the earth. asks a million questions about wifi, the internet, a phone, streaming services and so on. he will be the last to admit it but he loves trashy reality television, and he enjoys watching 'pathetic humans squabbling over pathetic things'. has an ugly, evil-ass laugh that wakes up your neighbours at 3am.

after weeks of being cooped up in your apartment, he starts complaining. loudly. stomping around and getting even nastier, to the point where you have to give in. he tells you that he is no house pet, and if you don't let him outside, he will go anyway and have his own fun. god help you, sukuna's idea of fun in the big city will involve blood and destruction so you relent and prep him with a million rules that he ignores.

has a beef with a bunch of birds that sit outside your apartment every morning. definitely the type of weirdo that glares back at birds and throws rocks at them. backfired, because the entire swarm started flocking around him. but you did promise him that you'd let him go outside, so you decide to start with somewhere easy. grocery shopping.

already impressed with the idea of grocery shopping and parking lots. has no clue why humans would cram their 'carriages' in one place, and has no concept of traffic laws. you try patiently explaining that these cars weigh tonnes of metal and they can really injure a person. sukuna's pretty confident that no car could ever even scratch him. cue the big delivery truck that almost runs him down.

completely fascinated by sliding doors. it's already embarrassing enough being outside with a loud, rude tank with pink hair and tattoos. but now he's holding up gruntled customers trying to figure out what enchantment allows glass to move so smoothly on its own. keeps stepping back and forth in front of them to watch them open and close. almost breaks them with the strength of just one cracked fingers before you plead with him to keep moving.

sukuna encounters an escalator for the first time and refuses to step on it, and vows to bash in the head of the little kid who gave him a big side eye. after five minutes of arguing, he finally steps onto the moving belt and almost tilts off-balance, but he's got a tattooed hand practically gripping the side for dear life.

literally the biggest hater when he's inside properly. makes snarky remarks about how this flashy bazaar can't possibly be for real merchants who respect the trade. you try to show him the different types of stores, but he's more interested in people watching. loud people-watching. you almost go home when sukuna asks another man why he's swallowing wet balls. hint: it was an innocent guy having bubble tea.

entirely interested in new fruits and vegetables that he's never seen before. but he'll pretend he doesn't give a flying fuck. has taken a deep liking to tomatoes, and comments that these delicious, tasty red globes were not around during his era. sukuna thinks colourful cereal boxes are the worst things to ever happen to mankind, and you fear that you gave him too much internet access when he sneers at you for picking up a box of froot loops - suddenly muttering things about artificial and fake foods with fake flavours.

baffled by the concept of frozen food, and wonders what sort of jujutsu keeps the meat cold and fresh? practically wide-eyed when he reaches the butcher's stand until you tell him that 'no, sukuna. you can't buy steak and eat it raw here. we have to get home and cook it.' he's just happy to see the deli. he opens the freezer and fridge doors for too long and lets all the cold out.

he has no concept of modern money or a credit card. insists that there is no need to trade for these goods, and he can just take what he wants. you believe him but you're trying to avoid the mall police, but he just stands behind with his arms crossed, while you sigh and take out your credit card to pay at the self checkout.

sukuna refuses to sit still at the food court, and towers over the poor workers. demands to know how the food is made, "is it poisoned? who are your chefs?" the poor teenager working the kebab store has to call the manager to get this fiend of a man to back off. he's able to polish off a doner kebab in two, nasty bites. refuses to carry any of your shopping bags and claims that he's not a mule. you remind him that he put in five tubs of ice creams and two watermelons, and he begrudgingly slings the lightest bag over his shoulder and leaves you to haul the rest up.

but who knew the key to keeping your local king of curses happy was to just simply take him out for a walk? sukuna seems more energised (while you feel like death warmed over) and he's already tearing open a bag of your favourite crisps, insisting that next time he will be able to conquer this 'shopping centre' properly and rule it with ease.

#this silly piece.#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #works #modernsukuna #<- for series tag #daphworks

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theonottsbxtch · 7 months ago

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PREACHER’S DAUGHTER PT5 | MV1

an: AND WE'RE BACK!! WHO MISSED OUR FAVOURITE LITTLE FAMILY! can't wait to hear what you guys think of this part, i've loved being with them this week, this is a shorter chapter but i've got ideas for what might happen next! lmk if y'all wanna see anything in particular

wc: 3.2k

Theo was four when his parents welcomed his sister, and Max very nearly missed it, if not for Danny.

It had been a normal day at the garage, Max elbow-deep in an engine rebuild, grease staining his hands and his focus entirely on the task at hand. His phone, forgotten on the workbench, buzzed furiously with calls and messages. It wasn’t until Danny came barreling into the shop, panting like he’d just run a marathon, that Max looked up.

“Max! Man, what the hell are you doing?” Danny wheezed, clutching his knees.

Max straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Uh, working? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re dying.”

Danny shot him a glare, pointing accusingly at the phone vibrating incessantly on the workbench. “Your wife is trying to call you! She’s in labour, man! She’s having the baby!”

Max froze, the rag slipping from his fingers. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital! Her aunt’s with her, but you need to move! Now!”

Max’s heart lurched into overdrive. Without a word, he sprinted to the workbench, grabbed his phone, and bolted out the door. “Danny, lock up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he jumped onto his bike.

Danny shook his head, muttering, “You owe me for this one, man.”

Max arrived at the hospital in record time, still in his grease-stained shirt and boots. His wife was mid-contraction when he burst into the room, panting, his face a mixture of guilt and relief.

“You’re here,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing slightly before softening at his frazzled appearance.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, angel. My phone was on silent—”

“Save it,” she hissed, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought his bones might break. “You’re here now. Just don’t let go.”

Max didn’t. Not for a second. Hours later, they welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Max cried as he held her for the first time, the tiny bundle swaddled in pink resting against his chest. He looked at his wife, her hair damp and her face radiant despite her exhaustion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

Their daughter, Mary-Ann, came home a few days later to a little house with a white picket fence that they had purchased not long before her birth. It was a modest place, but it was theirs, filled with laughter, love, and the chaos that only a toddler and a newborn could bring.

Theo was adjusting to his new role as a big brother with enthusiasm and curiosity. He followed his parents around, always asking to hold the baby or show her his toys. “She likes dinosaurs, right?” he would ask, clutching his favourite plastic stegosaurus.

“She loves dinosaurs,” Max assured him, grinning as he ruffled Theo’s hair.

Max had seamlessly embraced fatherhood, splitting his time between the garage and his family. He spent his evenings teaching Theo how to kick a football in the back garden and his nights rocking Mary-Ann to sleep.

The house, with its picket fence and flowerbeds lovingly tended by his wife, was the picture of the life Max had never imagined for himself. Yet, here he was, living it and loving every moment.

The day of Mary-Ann’s baptism dawned clear and bright, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel just a little more magical. Their little family was dressed in their Sunday best, Theo proudly wearing a bowtie that his mother had wrestled him into after much negotiation, and Mary-Ann bundled in a delicate white christening gown.

They arrived at the church to find her aunt, Danny, and a few close friends waiting for them, just as they had for Theo’s baptism years ago. Her aunt immediately swooped in to coo over Mary-Ann, her face soft with affection.

“She’s the spitting image of you at this age,” her aunt said warmly, brushing a soft curl away from Mary-Ann’s forehead.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit my teenage rebellion,” she joked, glancing at Max, who chuckled.

The service itself was intimate and beautiful. As the pastor spoke, Theo sat on Max’s lap, squirming occasionally but staying quiet enough to earn whispered praise from both his parents. When it came time for the baptism, Max and his wife stood together at the front of the church, Theo holding onto his mother’s hand while Max held Mary-Ann close.

The pastor asked Theo if he wanted to say anything, and the boy puffed out his chest importantly, his tiny voice ringing out through the quiet chapel. “We’re all gonna be... um... part of Chris-tain-ity now!”

There was a soft chuckle from the congregation, but Theo frowned, frustrated by his own mispronunciation. His brows knitted together, and before anyone could stop him, he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

Max’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his son. “Where did you hear that, Theo?”

Without hesitation, Theo turned and pointed to Danny, who froze mid-grin. “Uncle Daddy says it all the time.”

The entire room dissolved into laughter, but Max’s expression darkened. “His name is Uncle Danny. Not Daddy,” he corrected firmly. He handed Mary-Ann to his wife with exaggerated care and then fixed Danny with a dangerous look. “Uncle Danny also has five seconds to run.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he stammered, “Now, hold on a second—”

“Five.”

Danny bolted toward the back of the church, nearly tripping over a pew. Max didn’t miss a beat, stepping around the altar and charging after him. Theo laughed hysterically as he watched his father chase Danny out the door, and his mother shook her head, trying to stifle her own giggles.

When Max returned a few minutes later, slightly winded but victorious, Danny trailing behind him with a sheepish grin, the ceremony continued. The pastor, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, resumed his blessing, and little Mary-Ann was baptised without further incident.

As they left the church, Theo clung to Max’s hand, his face lit with excitement. “Daddy, can I chase Uncle Danny next time?”

Max ruffled his hair, smirking. “Not until you’re faster than me, kid.”

The two of them loved the life they had built together and sometimes when Max woke up he had to pinch himself. Just under half a decade ago he was eating dry hotdogs and drinking stale beers in a rundown trailer. Now he was helping his wife. His wife. In the kitchen with his two kids. Not one, two. Max was a father and everyday he woke up he couldn’t really believe. it.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the house as she stood at the counter, carefully icing a tray of perfectly golden cupcakes. Mary-Ann was nestled in her baby chair nearby, happily chewing on a soft toy, and the kitchen felt like the warm, beating heart of their home.

Out in the garage, Max had Theo standing on a small step stool by the workbench, his tiny hands gripping a wrench that was far too big for him. Max crouched beside him, guiding his hands as they worked on an old oil pan together. Theo giggled every time Max made a joke, his high-pitched laughter filling the air.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and wandered outside to watch her boys. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and smiled. “Teaching him how to change oil already? He’s four, Max.”

Max turned, his grease-streaked face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, never too early to learn the basics, right, buddy?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, smearing a streak of oil across his cheek as he waved the wrench triumphantly. “Mama, I’m helping!”

“I can see that,” she laughed, walking over and kissing the top of his messy hair.

As her gaze wandered around the garage, it landed on their old motorbike, tucked into the corner, its polished chrome gleaming even in the dim light. Her smile turned into a smirk, and she gestured toward it with her glass. “You know, you’re going to have to sell that death trap.”

Max froze mid-laugh, a look of horror crossing his face. “What? No way. We’ve got so many memories with that bike.”

“We have two kids now, Max.”

He frowned, standing up and crossing his arms. “But what if Theo wants it when he grows up?”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s not stepping a foot on that thing.”

Max threw his hands up in exaggerated protest. “Oh, so when it’s us, it’s fine, but when it’s Theo, it’s a problem?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Yup.”

Before he could argue further, Danny strolled into the garage, a familiar plastic container in hand. “Alright, where’s the good stuff? I heard there’s baking going on in that kitchen, and you know the deal—Danny gets dibs.”

She laughed, pointing toward the house. “I’ll bring you some in a second. Just made a fresh batch.”

As Danny leaned against the workbench, Max glanced at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Danny, you wanna buy that death trap over there?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bike. “How much are we talking?”

Max grinned. “Fifty bucks.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Max smirked, holding out a hand. “You buy it, but I still get to use it whenever I want.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head but reaching out to shake Max’s hand anyway. “You got yourself a deal, man.”

Max turned to her with a triumphant grin, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. “See? It’s sold. Problem solved.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but smiling as she headed back into the house. “You two are impossible.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Max knelt back down beside Theo, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy, what’s a death trap?”

Max chuckled, ruffling his hair. “It’s something fun that your mom doesn’t like.”

From the kitchen, she called out, “I heard that!”

While she packed up some of her baked goods for Danny she too thought of how lucky she was. How all her prayers had been listened to. How she finally made it out of that house. How she was going to witness all her own kid’s life milestones with joy and love, not hatred and jealousy.

The morning of Theo’s first day of school, the sunlight streamed through the windows as the family bustled to get ready. Theo stood proudly in his brand-new school uniform, his backpack almost as big as he was. Mary-Ann, her curls tied up in tiny pigtails, was toddling around in her nursery outfit, clutching her stuffed bunny like it was her lifeline.

Their mother, however, was a whirlwind of emotions. She double-checked Theo’s lunchbox for the third time and nearly forgot to zip Mary-Ann’s coat, all while blinking back tears.

“I can’t believe they’re both going,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she fixed Theo’s collar for the tenth time.

Max, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, tried to hide his grin. “Sweetheart, they’re not moving out. It’s just school and nursery.”

She shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me today, Max.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Come here, buddy,” he said, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You ready for your big day?”

Theo nodded, his little chest puffed out. “I’m gonna make so many friends!”

Max ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy. And you,” he added, turning to Mary-Ann and lifting her into his arms. “You take care of those nursery teachers, alright? Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Mary-Ann giggled, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

After a bittersweet drop-off that left her sniffling the entire car ride home, they returned to their now eerily quiet house. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them.

She walked into the living room, glanced at the toys still scattered around, and sighed heavily, sinking into the couch. “It’s too quiet.”

Max sat beside her, pulling her into his side. “I told you this morning was gonna hit you hard.”

She swatted his chest lightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the house without one of them here. It’s so empty.” She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “What if they need me? What if Mary-Ann gets scared? Or Theo forgets his lunch?”

Max chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, Theo’s got this. The kid’s practically running for class president. And Mary-Ann? She’s gonna have the nursery wrapped around her finger before lunch.”

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, she leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence soothe her. But the silence of the house pressed in again, making her sigh.

Max pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we’ve got the house all to ourselves now.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Max…”

He grinned, running his fingers lightly up her arm. “I’m just saying. We’ve got a whole empty house and a few hours of peace.”

Despite herself, she laughed, smacking his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered, leaning closer. “We might never get this chance again, angel. Think about it.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this right now.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of the quiet,” he teased, his hand slipping around her waist. “And besides, you’re way too stressed. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed despite herself, the weight of the morning momentarily forgotten as he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his lips, her heart finally feeling a little lighter.

And if she counted the exact weeks, that day was how she ended up pregnant with her third and final child.

Nine months later, their family grew again with the arrival of a boy they named Daniel. It was a tribute to Danny, their ever-reliable friend who had, over the years, become less like a buddy and more like an honorary member of the family.

Daniel came into the world with a loud cry and a shock of dark hair, immediately staking his place in the chaos of their household. Mary-Ann, now three and brimming with sass, had proudly declared herself the "boss" of her new baby brother. She often toddled around after him, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny in one hand and fussing over Daniel like a miniature mother.

Theo, at five, took his role as the eldest sibling very seriously. He loved showing off to Mary-Ann and anyone who’d listen about how he could hold his baby brother “without dropping him” (a feat Max closely supervised with a hovering hand). Theo also began peppering Max with endless questions about how cars worked, proudly announcing that he’d take over the garage one day.

The house was louder now, bursting with life and love in every corner. Daniel’s cries, Theo’s endless chatter, and Mary-Ann’s theatrical storytelling meant there was never a dull moment.

Max had learned to juggle bottles, bedtime stories, and car repairs, often collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day, marvelling at the whirlwind their life had become.

On quieter days—though “quiet” was a stretch—she’d watch Max play with the kids in their backyard. Mary-Ann would climb all over him, Theo would ask a million questions about the engine of a toy car, and baby Daniel would sit in his lap, chewing on whatever he could grab.

Sunday mornings had become a cherished tradition for her. Dressing Theo in his little button-up shirts, coaxing Mary-Ann into tights and her favourite frilly dress, and cradling baby Daniel in his soft onesie all felt like sacred rituals. She loved sharing her faith with her children, teaching them the hymns, and watching their faces light up during Sunday school.

But as much as she loved church, there was always a weight to bear. Her parents still attended the same church, their presence lingering like a spectre of the past. While most of the congregation had embraced her family with warmth, her parents had not. They’d sit on the far side of the pews, casting disapproving glares, and every so often, there were whispers—cutting, cruel words spread by those who believed her parents' version of events.

Still, she focused on her children. Theo beamed when he memorised Bible verses, Mary-Ann proudly showed off her colouring pages, and baby Daniel giggled at the choir. Sharing this part of her life with them felt like reclaiming something pure.

That afternoon, the church hosted a children’s Bible study, and she stayed to help with crafts and snacks while Max wrangled the baby. Daniel was perfectly content napping on his dad’s chest while Max sat in the corner, earning approving glances from the other parents for his patience and attentiveness.

As they packed up to leave, her father appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a storm cloud. His eyes were cold, his expression a mask of disdain. He walked past her, close enough that she could feel the venom in his whispered word:

"Whore."

The word cut through her like a knife. She froze, her heart pounding, the air sucked out of the room. Before she could even react, Max’s voice broke the moment.

"Angel, hold Daniel."

She turned to him, startled, as he handed her the baby with a calmness that belied the fire in his eyes. Then, without hesitation, Max spun on his heel and marched toward her father.

The sound of Max’s fist connecting with her father’s jaw was thunderous in the quiet room. Her father staggered back, clutching his face, as gasps rippled through the remaining churchgoers.

Max stood tall, his voice steady but cold. “Don’t you ever call my wife that again. You lost any right to speak to her the day you hurt her and abused your power. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Her father glared up at Max, but he didn’t dare rise. The weight of his disgrace was palpable as the onlookers murmured, their judgement no longer directed at her but at the man who had insulted his own daughter in a house of worship.

She stood rooted to the spot, Daniel cradled in her arms, her cheeks flushed. She could feel every eye in the room on her, but the only one that mattered was Max’s. He turned back to her, his expression softening, and strode toward her.

Max placed a gentle hand on her back, his touch grounding her. “Let’s go, angel,” he said quietly, his voice carrying none of the anger from moments before.

She nodded, unable to form words, and followed him out, their children close by. As they left the church, she glanced down at Theo and Mary-Ann, both wide-eyed but clutching each other’s hands tightly.

When they got to the car, she took a deep, shaky breath. “Max—”

He cut her off with a kiss to her temple. “Don’t. You don’t owe him anything. Not even your anger.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into him, Daniel squirming lightly in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Max tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “You and these kids are my family. No one, not even him, gets to treat you like that.”

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.

I have a request for the 5k event so here it is

The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.

Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!

—Here Now

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company.

He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.

One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth.

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit.

You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest.

“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you.

This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.

The thought terrified you.

You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic.

But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—

The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.

Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important.

“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”

He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt.

“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.”

“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”

He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body.

“Had a feeling,” is all he says.

You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull.

“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.”

“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing.

He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering.

By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him.

Well, girls now.

He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.

John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it.

There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him.

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megalony · 2 years ago

Text

That's my Wife

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine based loosely on an Anon request. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: While Eddie is at work, (Y/n) takes Christopher to a birthday party. Things don't go as planned when she goes into early labour.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Now you know I can't go on the slides and stuff with you like daddy does, right?" (Y/n) grabbed Christopher's backpack from the footwell and slung it on her shoulder as she leaned against the door and looked down at her boy.

"Yeah. You take picture for daddy?"

"I will baby, don't worry."

When Chris held his arms out, (Y/n) rolled her eyes but obliged and looped her arms around his waist so he could hold onto her neck. He was so used to Eddie lifting him in and out of the car that he didn't dare jump down on his own and it meant that (Y/n), although eight months pregnant, also had to lift him and carry him around.

Something Eddie wouldn't approve of if he knew (Y/n) was still carrying Chris while she was pregnant, but he didn't need to know that.

She set him down on his feet and handed him his crutches before they started their short walk.

Chris had made a lot of friends in his new school and it was Adam's birthday party today. He was having his party at a play centre in town and he had very sweetly asked (Y/n) if Chris would be able to join and go round the centre. He wanted to include Chris but he wasn't sure if he did this sort of thing. It was something Chris loved to do, especially when his parents climbed into the play area with him and helped him down the slides or flop into the ball pit. But he could do this fine on his own as long as he knew (Y/n) was nearby.

Eddie would have been off shift and here too if Hen hadn't of gone off sick this week so Eddie picked up her shifts to help out. He knew once the baby was born he wouldn't be picking up any more extras for a while so it was worth it doing them all now to get the extra income.

(Y/n) rubbed her hand up and down Chris's shoulders as they walked into the reception and looked around for Adam and his mum.

She felt bad for Eddie, he had done a night shift straight into a day and when he got home tonight he was going to be dead on his feet.

"He's there mummy," Chris waved his crutch over towards where at least five tables had been pushed together for the parents to sit around. The drill was for the kids to run off and have a play for an hour or so, then they would sit down for food and cake and then another play before they went home.

"Let's go then,"

When they reached the table, (Y/n) put her and Chris's bags down on a free chair before she used the table as leverage to bend down on her knees in front of Chris. She silently held onto the crutches and he took the hint, letting her move them and he curled his arms around her neck and let his head fall on her shoulder. A big smile plastered to his lips.

He hadn't been anywhere like this in a while, probably not since before (Y/n) was pregnant. It had disrupted his day yesterday when Eddie had to sit him down and tell him he wouldn't be able to go and join him but because Chris knew he still got to go to the party, he wasn't too unsettled.

"Now you have fun and please be careful, do not go on the slides alone. If you need me to walk around and watch you just shout me, okay?"

"You come in too?" Chris nuzzled his face into (Y/n)'s neck until his glasses bumped and rubbed against her skin.

"I can't come in, I'm too big I'll get stuck."

"Mummy, please?"

"Baby, you know daddy will tell me off if I try. I can follow you round the outside though, are you gonna try go in with Adam first?" She could feel him laughing into her neck which was a good sign.

Part of (Y/n) worried that he wouldn't go in without her but she was hoping he would because he would have at least three other kids from school that he got along well with and Adam was glued to Chris. They would stay together so it wasn't as if Chris was totally alone in there.

If she wasn't pregnant or was less than six months, (Y/n) would be right in there with him going up the levels and waiting at the bottom of the slides for him. But Eddie had given her strict instructions before he left last night and he made her promise not to overdo herself and not to go down the slides or go too far if Chris asked her to. Chris didn't quite grasp that (Y/n) couldn't do as much with him while she was pregnant and it worried Eddie because he knew (Y/n) would give in and push herself to do stuff with Chris, it was endearing but worrying for Eddie.

"Okay,"

"Good boy, go have fun." (Y/n) pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek and helped him take off his shoes before she gave him a nudge and watched Adam wait patiently for him.

From where (Y/n) sat down at the table, she could see most of the large enclosed play area in front of them.

There were a lot of slides, three levels to climb up, tunnels to get lost in. Foam stairways to climb, ropes to swing from and rollers like a car wash to squeeze through which she knew Chris loved. He could do almost all of it but (Y/n) didn't want him going down the slides alone just to be safe. Eddie always did everything with him ever since Chris was a toddler and they went to places like this.

She didn't want Chris thinking he could do something alone and then getting stuck high up on a level or burning himself on the slide or not being able to get back down from somewhere. As long as he had one of his friends with him he would be alright.

"He's a good little climber, isn't he?" Andrea, Adam's mother leaned over the table to smile at (Y/n) and nod her head in the direction of the boys.

They could see all the kids drifting off in groups of two or three and Chris was with Adam and a young girl called Sasha. They were climbing up a set of foam stairs and Chris was laying on his stomach, using his arms to pull up and scuffing his feet on the steps to give him an extra boost. He wasn't good on stairs, that was where Eddie would usually carry him if they couldn't find a lift.

But this was different, this was somewhere Chris could let loose and mess around. He could crawl and shuffle and climb and no one would say anything or stare or laugh because all the kids didn't care what he did. He was here to have fun and that was what he was doing.

"He is, he's very determined."

"Is Eddie not coming?" Andrea did a quick sweep around but she couldn't see him among the throng of kids and adults all bustling about.

"He had to work, so I have to take a lot of pictures for him." (Y/n) had her phone in her jacket pocket and she was waiting until Chris got close enough or went down one of the slides so she could capture the moments. That way Eddie wouldn't feel so bad or feel like he missed out.

"That's good, he was telling me you're close to your due date now… he even remembered the exact date. He was very excited."

Andrea's brows quirked and her smile showed she was impressed while (Y/n) pursed her lips to stop from smiling. Either Eddie hadn't explained it very well or Andrea hadn't been listening properly but there was a clear miscommunication somewhere along those lines.

"Uh, no, we're having a C-section, it's booked in for four weeks from now."

"Oh, that does make more sense considering he was very certain about the day."

(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. It showed how endearing and sweet Eddie was at heart. He would do anything for his family and when they had been expecting Chris, Eddie had been just the same. Excited, anxious, walking on egg shells. If it hadn't been for the rather traumatic birth everything would have been a lot easier and it would have been a perfect pregnancy.

Chris's birth had been anything but plain sailing and because of how badly (Y/n) had haemorrhaged and the complications she had afterwards, the doctors thought it would be best to have a C-section this time. Save the panic and calm all their nerves and ensure nothing went wrong.

They had the date all booked and Eddie had it circled in red pen on the kitchen calander. His last shift was two days before the birth and his Abuela would have Chris for them while they went to hospital. Eddie had three full weeks off work for after the birth if everything went according to plan and he was counting down the days.

When Andrea got up to go and get a drink from the bar, (Y/n) dug around in her jacket which was really Eddie's denim jacket, and found her phone. She needed to start taking some photos, Eddie had promised to show Buck the pictures and let him know how it went since Chris was attached to his 'Uncle Buck'.

"Mummy!"

With one hand on her stomach, (Y/n) got up and slowly trudged over towards the entrance to the play area and looked up. Chris was leaning against the mesh, pressing his face so close his nose was pushing through and his smile was slightly obscured but it made for a perfect picture.

"We off down the slide," Chris pointed towards the dark blue curved slide at the front corner and (Y/n) nodded.

She pressed record and tilted her phone up, following the boys as they padded across the foam mats. Chris was in fits of giggles when he went down on his stomach and shimmied under one of the foam rollers and (Y/n)'s face beamed as she watched him. Part of her worried if he got stuck, there was no way she would get up there to get him out but he did it with a big grin on his face that she got on camera.

When they reached the slide, Chris sat down first and Adam sat behind him and (Y/n) moved to the end of the slide and waited for them to come down.

"Well done baby!" She put her phone back in her pocket and reached down to lift him up by his underarms. She set him back on his feet with a kiss on his head but did her best to hide her wince when her back twinged. Maybe Eddie was right, lifting Chris and carrying him as well as the baby was a bit too much after a while.

***

"Chris, are you coming?"

"No."

A frown pulled at Adam's lips and he held his hand out to see if it would make Christopher feel a bit better but he still shook his head.

Chris brought his hands up to cover his ears and started to shake his head before he moved and flopped down to the floor with a thump and sat down. There were too many kids and adults at that table. He wasn't sitting there with everyone shouting and screaming and throwing things. He wasn't eating his dinner in front of that many people.

He was very particular, being in the classroom at school was fine because they had less than twenty children per class, it was more concentrated and people were spread out. Eating dinner was different too because the teachers gave Chris his own little corner in the dining room where he could sit alone with hi back to everyone and eat his dinner in peace. And sometimes if he was very unsettled, they let him eat in the classroom which was always empty at lunchtime.

The only people Chris would eat around were his parents or the team at Eddie's station because they were more like family. He didn't like eating in front of strangers or other kids at school, he always felt like they were watching him.

"Oh, (Y/n)…"

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked around before her eyes landed on Chris and she quickly got up, ignoring the dull throb in her lower back as she tried to hurry over to Chris.

"Mummy… mummy, don't want to,"

"Baby, it's alright, come here." She rubbed her hands up and down his arms and pulled him closer until he could bury his face in her chest and wrap his arms around her waist instead of holding his ears. "We don't have to sit with everyone, we brought a pack up anyway, didn't we? Don't get upset, they can find us a table out the way. No one will mind."

She slowly rubbed her hand up and down Chris's back and kissed the top of his head. He had been doing so well and she wanted to finish the day on a high, not a low.

She had made a pack up this morning before they arrived and told Andrea Chris wouldn't eat any of the food they served here. He was specific, there were only a few places he liked to eat out at and he wouldn't eat party food, only food that his parents bought. Bobby was the only exception, Chris loved his food.

"No, not hungry yet."

"Five more minutes of play, then pack up, okay? We want to watch Adam get his birthday cake, don't we?"

Chris nodded his head and tilted his head back enough to press his chin into (Y/n)'s chest so he could look up at her. If either of his parents smiled at him it was an instant calming mechanism for Chris, he knew he wasn't in trouble and that it was okay for him to have a little panic.

"Come on then." A little longer playing would calm Chris down but (Y/n) didn't want him playing too long because he needed a rest and he needed to eat. They had to eat soon so they would be in time to see Adam get his cake and sing happy birthday to him.

He pulled back and let her lift him up to his feet before he grabbed her hand and held her arm to his chest when they started to walk.

The pair of them walked through the entrance and (Y/n) waited patiently for Chris to decide what he wanted to do. He knew he had to stay close enough for (Y/n) to walk beside him at the bottom, she couldn't climb up with him and she didn't want him wandering around on his own.

(Y/n) could see Chris had a frown on his face, he was still unsure about going back to eat with everyone. They were all being loud, throwing food and squabbling together, it was a sensory overload. At least in the play area all the kids bypassed him and didn't stay so close they were shouting in his ear.

Her eyes followed her boy closely as he shuffled up the steps and she took slow steps below him as he slowly shuffled along a rope before he looked down at her.

"Slide,"

"Okay, go along then baby."

"You meet me at the bottom," (Y/n) craned her head to see where the bottom of the red slide was but she frowned when she realised it was in the middle of the ball pit. She knew Chris wouldn't go down that slide unless she was waiting for him, he liked the ball pits but he couldn't get out of them properly.

"I'll wait at the side of the ball pit."

"No! Mummy you wait at the side."

"Baby-"

"Mummy!" Chris dropped to his knees and dig his fingers into the mesh rope protecting him from falling. He started to lean back and forth and swing on it as his frown deepened. He was getting unsettled, if Eddie were here it would be a lot easier.

"Do I have to call daddy and uncle Buck?" (Y/n) put her hands on her hips and straightened her back for a second before she leaned back down when her stomach cramped. She watched Chris start to whine her name over and over until she sighed and walked towards the ball pit.

It was going to be easier to go along with Chris than try and coax him to a different slide or go down it without her at the bottom. And ringing Eddie would only upset Chris further because it would mean he was in trouble.

If she got Eddie on the phone he would give Chris the stern talk, tell him he had to listen to his mum and if he couldn't then Eddie would have to come down there and sort him out.

(Y/n) walked over to the ball pit and peeked in before she sighed. At least Eddie wasn't here to see her doing this. The opening into the ball pit was a small oval gap in the mesh and (Y/n) had to sit down on the foam wall, carefully swing her legs over and then lower herself down. It didn't do her back any good to wade through the plastic balls that felt like a sea overtaking her and pulling her down.

"Chris, come down baby."

It was a relief to hear him giggling and banging the walls when he shuffled down the slide. She reached her arm out so that when he came out the slide, he could grab her hand and pull himself over to her.

He smacked his arms out and flung some of the plastic balls away from them and started to kick his legs like he was swimming and it was a relief to (Y/n) to see him finally settle and smile again. She knew getting him out of here was going to be the problem though. He had been playing for over an hour and now he was tired and needed food but he didn't want to be with everyone else. She might end up taking him home.

"A-are we going…" (Y/n) trailed off and turned her head to the side so Chris couldn't see her grimace when her stomach tightened. "Dinner time," She managed to grumble out before she turned and grabbed the foam edge to steady herself.

"Not yet mummy."

"Ooh no…"

Fuck. Not yet, not without Eddie!

Her water broke. In the ball pit. In the play centre. With Chris right next to her.

This was not part of the plan. The plan was all laid out and simple and agreeable, Chris was going to have a movie night with them the night before and then he would be up ready and early to go stay with Abeula. Eddie would be with (Y/n) right by her side and they would have this baby different to last time.

(Y/n) didn't want to go through labour again, she wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for the panic and the blood and the complications and screaming out to hold her baby while Eddie pinned her to the bed when she tried to snatch Chris from the midwife. She didn't want to watch Eddie blur before her eyes and fall into his arms when her heartrate started to drop and she started to bleed again.

Fumbling in her pocket, (Y/n) shakily grabbed her phone and scanned down for Eddie's contact. He said he would try and keep his phone on him in case she needed to call today, he would do his best like he always did.

No answer.

"Eddie, baby c-call me… my water broke, fuck, call me back please." Her voice barely raised above a trembling whisper son she didn't scare Chris.

"(Y/n), there you are, we're going to cut the cake soon, would Chris like to have some?" Andrea bent down on the other side of the mesh and smiled at the pair of them but her smile faded quickly when (Y/n) looked up and she saw the tears on her face.

"My water broke,"

"Oh god… let me tell someone and we'll get you out-"

"No. No I- I'm not moving until I c-can get hold of Eddie…" (Y/n) braced her elbows on the foam edge and clenched her hands together to try and think. She wasn't able to move very far now and she couldn't go anywhere without Eddie. That wasn't an option. "Can you tell t-them to keep kids away from here, until he comes, please?"

She couldn't move but she couldn't have any other kids coming down the slide and messing about in here when she was like this. It wasn't safe nor conventional and Chris was settled, (Y/n) couldn't risk him having a meltdown or getting upset right now when she couldn't get hold of Eddie.

"Of course, I'll go now and they can section this bit off I would think."

(Y/n) managed a feeble thank you before she felt Chris grabbing her arm and tugging gently so she would look at him.

"Okay?" He asked quietly, smiling despite knowing there was something amiss with her.

"Just a bad back baby, daddy will c-come soon and get us. We need to stay in here for now."

She felt her heart calm just a little when Chris started to giggle and clap, he wanted to see Eddie. He thought Eddie would play with him once he got here but (Y/n) would let him think that and deal with the consequences later, as long as it kept him calm and happy.

As soon as Chris shuffled a little bit away from her to dive back into the middle of the pit, (Y/n) picked her phone back up. When Eddie's phone went to voicemail for a second time, she changed to dial 911. They could get hold of him, they would have to because (Y/n) wouldn't let anyone else near her unless they were in the 118 team.

"I- I need help, I'm in the Cromwell play centre a-and my waters broke… I can't move I'm in the ball pit."

"Can you tell me your name and roughly how far along you are? Paramedics are being dispatched to your location."

"No, I need you t-to get…" (Y/n) bowed her head on her forearm and groaned through a contraction. This wasn't fair. "Get the one-eighteen fire station team dispatched here, now. My husband is one of the firemen, Eddie Diaz, I need him here."

***

"Okay everyone, we have a woman in pre-term labour stuck in the ball pit, dispatcher said she was very anxious."

Eddie's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he climbed down out the truck and realised where they had parked. He could never make sense of the speakers when a call got announced and Bobby was the one who got the main details of their calls, the rest of them were told on the journey or when they got here like right now.

The play centre. Specifically the one where (Y/n) had brought Chris for a friend's party. Eddie could see her car parked up front and unless it was a very big coincidence that this was the same place his wife was at who wasn't at her due date yet, Eddie couldn't imagine it being anyone else. He knew (Y/n) would be panicking if it was her, she had been over the moon when they said she could have a C-section to reduce any risks.

The plans had changed if this was his wife.

"Mate, what's up?" Buck patted Eddie on the shoulder when he saw he wasn't moving and looked rather pale but Eddie stumbled over to Bobby in a frenzy.

"Cap, cap I think it's my wife. Fuck, if it's (Y/n) Christopher will be here!"

Eddie barely managed to tangle his fingers in his hair before he waved towards Buck and set off into a sprint. He had to calm himself down, he had to find out if this was his family or not and if it wasn't he could breathe deeply and be relieved that their plan could still go ahead.

He could hear Buck close behind him when he rampaged through the doors and towards the reception where one of the staff was waiting for them.

"She's this way,"

They took off in a sprint after the young girl but Eddie could feel his heart rocketing up into his throat, constricting his breathing when he saw Andrea bent down in the path beside the ball pit on the left. It had to be (Y/n) because he could see the utter relief in her eyes when she clocked eyes with him.

"Eddie! (Y/n), love, he's here now." She waved him over and got to her feet, patting his shoulder before she took a step back. Andrea knew (Y/n) had begrudged anyone walking down here to see what was going on, she didn't even want the staff coming to ask if she needed anything.

"Fuck, mi amor it's me I'm here I'm here."

He crouched down to look in and assess the situation but he didn't like what he saw. (Y/n)'s lower half was submerged in the plastic, her arms were folded over on the foam edge and her forehead had been pushed into her arms until she heard his voice. When she rose her head, her face was flushed, covered in sweat and tears and she was breathing in short huffs.

This brought back too many memories for Eddie. He thought they would get peace of mind with this pregnancy, no scares, no frantic worries about labour, no Eddie screaming at the doctor to help his wife and tell him what was wrong with his newborn son.

Before they were told they could have a C-section, Eddie had cradled (Y/n) in his arms one night when she started to cry, worrying what would happen if history repeated itself again.

"Daddy!" His head tilted up and a small creased smile pulled at his lips when he noticed Chris was sat on the foam edge next to (Y/n). He was patting her hair away from her face and kicking his legs out into the sea of plastic.

"Hey bud. We're coming in,"

He rounded the side and leaned forward to climb through the gap and drop down into the ball pit with Buck following behind. Bobby rounded to be in front of the mesh near (Y/n) for reassurance and Chimney waited near the exit to the ball pit for help when they tried to get her out.

"How we doing?" Eddie gritted his teeth as he waded through towards (Y/n), he had done this countless times with Chris but it never felt slower to get through than it did right now.

"You're here! I can't d-do this, we need the hospital," She felt his hands on her shoulders and the light kiss he pressed to her neck.

She knew calling 911 would get him here if he couldn't answer the phone and here he was, right when she needed him. (Y/n) didn't want to do this, she didn't want to be stuck here. She had thought about pre-term labour and she wished that if it happened she would be home with Eddie and still be able to get the C-section. There was no way that was happening now, it was far too late but she wanted to be at the hospital in the very least.

If she started bleeding out there wasn't much the team could do for her and Chris was here, (Y/n) didn't want her baby boy here to see her in pain.

She was just relieved he didn't understand what was happening.

"I'm here, you're fine, we've got this. Chris, bud are you gonna go and stay with Chimney so me and uncle Buck can get mummy out of here?"

"You here to play?" His head tilted to the side and he picked up one of the balls and started to pat it and tap it against his knees. He was assuming someone would get (Y/n) out and then he could play with his dad, he thought Eddie was here to play with him. And it was an added extra that Buck was here too.

"No buddy, no more play."

"Play!"

Chris dropped the ball and went to cross his arms over his chest, the smile slipping from his face when he saw his dad's stern expression. This wasn't the plan, something odd and strange wasn't supposed to happen and Eddie was always supposed to come here and play with him. He didn't want this to go a different way.

"You are not in charge, I am and daddy says you are going to wait with Chimney. Off you go."

There was no time for Chris to argue, Eddie picked him up and turned round to Buck who happily grabbed him and waded over towards the exit where Chimney was waiting with a smile for the little boy. Chris couldn't argue with Eddie and if he tried, Eddie would tell Chimney to put him in a time out. As long as Chris was out the way but cared for and safe, Eddie could keep his focus on (Y/n) and neither of them had to worry about him witnessing anything or hearing anything he shouldn't.

"Do you want to tell me why you're in the ball pit when I specifically told you to take it easy and not follow Chris into the play zone?"

(Y/n) reached her hand out and curled her fingers tightly around Eddie's hand when she felt him press up to her side. His lips smothered the top of her head and his free hand moved to her lower back and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, she tried to smile despite the guilt written across her face.

"He wouldn't come down unless I w-was in here," She could feel his hand tense on her lower back and he shook his head.

"These kids are gonna be the death of me." He muttered quietly while Buck came over to stand on (Y/n)'s other side. "Do you think you can shuffle out of here?"

She nodded, she would do anything to try and get to the hospital, she didn't care what she had to do. (Y/n) would crawl or swim through this stupid ball pit if it got her to a hospital.

"Good girl, Buck you go in front and I'll stay behind,"

"Come on (Y/n), you got this. I'm so pumped to meet my nephew." Buck held his arms out steady and let (Y/n) dig her nails into his lower arms when she turned round. He didn't think he would be around when she had the baby, Buck thought he would be either working and keeping his phone on him ready or he thought he might be looking after Chris. He had offered to take Chris on the evening after the C-section so Eddie could stay with (Y/n).

This turned out more in Buck's favour so he could actually be here when his Godchild was born. And he was so sure it was going to be another boy. The team had placed a few bets on the gender.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie kept his hands on (Y/n)'s hips and stayed close behind her. She leaned forward and pressed her head into Buck's chest and arched her back out. The three of them made a slow shuffle through the ball pit towards Bobby who moved so he was waiting near the exit for them in case they needed another set of hands.

"You ready?" Eddie whispered in her ear when Buck let go of her hands for a moment so he could climb out and stand next to Bobby.

"This won't be graceful,"

Eddie smiled despite himself and shook his head, at least she could make some light of the situation.

"Lean back into me, I'll lift you up."

(Y/n) nodded but kept her eyes tightly closed, she didn't like this one bit. She didn't like anyone but Eddie seeing her in a situation like this when there wasn't a lot of dignity left. As if her friends, Eddie's close friends and coworkers had to see her like this.

She felt Buck and Bobby take one of her hands each and grip her elbows and she let her legs go floppy so her weight was pushed back onto Eddie's chest. He had carried her around hundreds of times even while she was pregnant so she knew she wasn't putting any strain on him but it didn't feel right to do this in public.

She could feel his hands squeeze her hips before they travelled down her bum to grip the back of her thighs and it was comforting when she felt his face tuck into the crook of her neck. He kissed the junction of her shoulder and neck before he slowly lifted up her legs and pushed forward so she was sitting on the ledge. All she had to do was let them ease her forward and she would be out.

"Here we go, steady we got you," Bobby and Buck took her weight and helped her slide down onto her feet but as soon as her feet hit the floor, her knees caved.

(Y/n) coiled her arms to her stomach and dropped down to her knees, leaning forward to push her head into the floor as a horrid groaning scream left her lips morphed with Eddie's name.

"Hospital… w-we need to go- fuck, Eddie!"

"We have to see how far you are before we think about moving you (Y/n), let's get you sat down."

"No, I-" She stopped when she felt Eddie's hands on her waist and he slowly reeled her back up.

"Mi amor, I'm not risking moving you anywhere until we know what this baby is doing. You're safe, we're all here and Cap knows what he's doing." Eddie moved back a little and sank down on his knees before he carefully pulled (Y/n) with him and leaned her backwards. She relaxed in his hold and let herself sink into his firm chest while his arms coiled around her waist so she could grip his arms.

"Buck, grab the medic bag, I'm just gonna have a quick look, okay?" Bobby took off his overcoat and placed it over (Y/n)'s knees that were hunched up. There was no one around but he wanted her to have some sort of dignity.

He knew what everyone was praying for, they all wanted (Y/n) to be one or two centimetres dilated so they could get her in the ambulance and ship her to the maternity ward and have this baby in a hospital. But when Bobby looked up and saw (Y/n) crying out with her hand reached back and clawing at Eddie's shoulder, he wasn't so sure that was the outcome they were going to receive.

(Y/n) didn't have the will to care that Bobby was about to see a more intimate side to her. She didn't care that her leggings and underwear were now around her ankles, she just wanted to go.

"(Y/n)… I'm afraid you're already crowning, this will be the first kid born in a play centre so we need to get you set up." Bobby hid his frown when (Y/n) screamed and Edie tightened his arms around her when she started to sob and her chest heaved. This wasn't fair, but at least the team had gotten here at the right time. She had everyone surrounding her, they would look after her and make sure she and the baby were okay.

"Wow, really?" Buck knelt back down and put the medic bag next to Bobby but when he leaned to look, he found Eddie's hand in his chest shoving him back and (Y/n)'s leg move out towards him.

He was their closest friend, but (Y/n) didn't want him looking until the baby was born. It wasn't exactly an intimate thing the couple wanted to share.

"What-"

"That's my wife!"

"Buck keep a check on (Y/n)'s vitals. Miss, we need towels over here please. (Y/n) I'm sure you know what to do, push on the next contraction."

Buck moved to (Y/n)'s other side and made quick work of checking her blood pressure and he didn't make a face when she clenched his hand in hers and gave a sharp squeeze.

As if she was having her second baby here of all places.

"Fuck! A-am I bleeding?" All of them could hear the panic in (Y/n)'s voice and she tipped her head back on Eddie's shoulder to look up at him with terror in her eyes. She barely managed to crown with Chris before she was bleeding and as soon as he was born after getting stuck, that's when the blood flowed.

Whimpers and sobs bubbled past her lips and she pushed back into Eddie as if she wanted to disappear but he held her tighter and moved his legs so he was sat down instead of kneeling which was making his legs ache. He pulled his knees up and pressed his thighs tightly into (Y/n)'s sides, just like they had been sat when she had Chris.

"You're perfectly fine (Y/n), I promise. Just keep going you're doing great."

"Almost there mi amor, I've got you and cap's got the baby, we're all good. Come on you got this." Eddie whispered in the shell of her ear and tilted his head down a little more when (Y/n) reached her free hand up to cup the back of his neck. A shiver rocketed down his spine when her nails scratched against his skin and the hairs at the back of his neck and he kissed her head when she turned to bury her face in his chest.

His shirt smothered her scream and they both prayed Chris was far away enough not to hear what was going on.

"Head's out, one more push (Y/n)," Bobby grabbed one of the towels from the pile the lady shakily dropped down next to him. He spread it out over his lap and grabbed another one to hold beneath the baby, she was almost done.

"I love you so much," Eddie leaned over (Y/n)'s shoulder and he felt his heart jump into his mouth as he held his breath when she screamed into his chest.

"It's a girl!"

"You've done it mi amor, you've done it."

The brightest smile (Y/n) had ever seen lit up Eddie's face and she could feel his tears falling down onto her skin. Her head felt fuzzy and her body was trembling in his arms which he was soaking up and he held her so tightly she felt comforted and protected.

"Fuck (Y/n), well done! You've lost me the bet though," Buck rubbed his hand up and down her arm, smiling brightly as he looked across at Bobby. He gently let go of (Y/n)'s hand, seeing her grab Eddie's arm for reassurance before Buck grabbed the clamps and cutters from the bag to hand across to Bobby.

"Here's your daughter," Bobby carefully placed the small bundle into (Y/n)'s shaking arms and laid her on her chest.

She trembled so much Eddie had to move his arms and coil them around hers with his hands resting on top of (Y/n)'s to keep their daughter stable on her chest. Eddie brushed a finger across the newborn's cheek and despite the chuckle he let out, he moved to kiss (Y/n)'s cheek repeatedly. This wasn't how they were expecting to have their daughter, but it had gone much better than Chris's untimely birth.

"S-she's here," (Y/n) brushed her nose against Eddie's cheek and kissed him shakily.

"She couldn't wait to meet us."

#eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #imagines #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #evan buckley #bobby nash #911 imagine #911 fox #911

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daisyblog · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Twin

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry welcome their baby girl into the world.

Warning: labour, delivery, child birth, gas and air

11th of April 2024

35 weeks and 5 days pregnant

The Tomlinson family had all travelled to Doncaster for a few days of celebrating YN turning thirty.

“Your last couple of days of being twenty nine Kiddo!”. Louis gently ruffled YN’s hair as he walked by her in their grandparents kitchen. Both filling their plates with some more food from the buffet spread their Nan had made.

“Don’t remind me!” YN groaned as she reached over and put some extra sandwiches on her plate.

“Fookin’ ‘ell, is baby girl hungry tonight?”. Louis joked as he watched his sister continue to fill her plate that was already slightly full of food.

YN laughed as she looked at her plate compared to Louis. “Your niece is a foodie, what can I say?”. She naturally ran her hand over her large bump.

“Can I?” Louis gestured towards her tummy, his way of asking if he could touch. When YN nodded, Louis placed his hand over bump. “‘ello little one, are you gonna come and meet us soon?”.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten aren’t you?”. YN couldn’t help but smile at the small interaction. She had witnessed her brother as a brother, dad and uncle already and she could tell how much love he already had for her little girl.

“Uh obviously, I just hope she comes before tour starts again.”

---

12th of April 2024

35 weeks 6 days pregnant

8:30am

YN suddenly woke from small niggles in her lower stomach, something she had been experiencing for a few weeks. She tried to ignore the dull ache and go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning, she gave in and got up.

As she entered the kitchen she noticed her grandmother sitting at the table with a cup of tea in her hand. “Morning my love, you’re awake early!”.

YN began to make herself a cup of tea, as she sat beside Jen. “Morning Nan, yeah braxton hicks again!”.

“You’ve been having them a lot haven’t you darling?”. Jen had a concerned look on her face as she watched her eldest granddaughter stir her tea.

YN only shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently it’s normal at this stage, I just didn’t realise how painful they could be”.

11:00am

As the morning went on YN noticed how the niggles only continued and become a tad more painful. But not wanting to draw attention or to cause everyone to worry, especially Harry, she suggested her and Harry take Teddy for a walk.

They were walking through the quiet field, Teddy running just a bit in front of them, when YN stopped suddenly and held her tummy as a sharp pain caught her off guard.

“What’s wrong babe? Are you alright?” Harry immediately went into panic mode, worry evident all over his face. His hand protectively wrapped around her smaller frame.

“Yeah, just cramp that’s all”. YN noticed Harry’s worried look, his eyebrows in a tight frown and tried her best to hide how much pain she was really in. “I’m fine, it’s braxton hicks again.”.

Although Harry wasn’t fully convinced, they continued their walk before heading back to the house.

2:00pm

Within a few hours, the pain had gotten worse with YN baring her weight on anyone or anything to try and ease the pain. It was when YN cried out in pain, as she grabbed onto Louis’ hand, that Harry decided to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m phoning the hospital, this can’t just be braxton hicks!” Harry announced as he began to dial the number on his phone.

“Harry’s right Tiny, you’re in far too much pain for this not to be real labour”. Louis agreed with Harry, taking note at how much his sister was squeezing his hand.

After phoning the hospital and explaining everything to the midwife, Harry was told that it sounded like YN was in early labour and they needed to monitor and time how quick she was having contractions.

At this news Daisy, Phoebe and the other men decided to take Lucky and Olive to Phoebe and Jack’s house to give YN some space before she had to go to hospital.

“Ahhhh!” YN cried out in pain as she held onto Harry for support. “This hurts so fookin’ much!”.

Harry rubbed circles on YN’s back, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “I know baby…but you’re doing so well.”.

“You’re doing so well YN”. Lottie praised her sister from where she sat next to Louis. “All the pain is worth it in the end, trust me”.

“Lottie’s right Tiny…just think you’ll be holding your baby sooner than you thought”. Louis gave Harry a small smile, knowing how special that moment will be for them both.

5:30pm

With her contractions lasting around a minute and only being five minutes apart, YN found herself in the hospital with gas and air being her new best friend.

YN was lying down on the bed, the gas and air attachment in her mouth as she breathed through another contraction. Harry sat on one side of the bed telling her how proud of her he was and saying how it wouldn’t be long until their little one would be here.

“Harry…baby…I can’t do this!”. YN’s head hit the white plump pillow behind her, as the contraction ended. “I’m so tired already.”.

“You can do it and you are doing it”. Harry brushed some of her away from her face. “You’re making me so proud!”.

“YN, you’re doing amazing and just remember nothing worth having is easy”. Lottie encouraged her sister, having been through labour and birth herself, she what to say.

“Listen to your birthing partners YN, you’re doing amazing”. The midwife smiled proudly at how supportive and calm they both were. “How about trying to the birthing pool?”.

Harry helped YN into the pool and instantly YN’s once tense body was now relaxed. In between contractions she began to make jokes about how she’s glad she had shaved her legs before that day.

When the next contraction hit, Harry was quick to kneel down beside the pool and hold onto YN’s hand as she took in the gas and air to numb the pain. “That’s it, keep breathing through the pain, you’re doing so well love”.

8:00pm

“So how did you two meet?”. The midwife began to make conversation with the couple as another contraction ended.

YN was back sitting on the bed, the attachment still in her hand whilst her other one held Harry’s. “He was my brother’s best friend”.

“Oh how interesting!” The midwife leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more. “How did that go? You know breaking the news to him?”.

“Not well but he came around pretty quickly”. Harry explained as YN worked her way through another sharp pain.

“I wouldn’t have listened even if he didn’t come around”. YN allowed the gas and air to do a little bit of talking. “Couldn’t resist the charm”.

Before anyone could respond, a gush of water surrounded YN and turned the blue sheet below a darker shade. “And that’s your water breaking!” The midwife announced before she helps YN to clean herself up.

11:45pm

The contractions were coming thick and fast, YN was attached to the gas and air more than ever and Harry tried to hide how hard she was squeezing his hand.

“YN I’m going to exam you, is that alright darling?”. The midwife stood at the bottom on the bed, gloves covering her fingers ready for the examination. With YN’s permission, the midwife began to see how far YN was dilated. “Oh darling, I can feel baby’s head, do you feel like you-“.

Before the midwife finished; YN let out a small groan as she bore down and began to push. Harry was overwhelmed with joy, excitement but also nervousness that any minute now their whole world was about to change.

“Keep listening to your body YN, you’re doing amazing my darling” the midwife encouraged as she continued to watch the baby’s head begin to crown.

“Aww I can see her head!”. Lottie’s excited voice could be heard as she took in every moment of watching her niece being born.

YN took a rest in between contractions before she needed to push again. “I love you “. Harry placed a peck to YN’s forehead.

“I love you too!”.

0:01am

After several more pushes, Harry and Lottie were in awe as the tiny little baby appeared and was placed on YN’s bear chest. The tears streamed down YN and Harry’s cheeks.

“Hello baby girl!”. YN held her daughter tight, and kissed her head gently. Despite all the pain YN was still in, a large smile covered her face as she looked down at the small version of herself and Harry.

“Baby girl born one minute past midnight on the thirteen of April, weighting six pound exactly”. The midwife announced to the three of them.

Harry smiled down at his wife and newborn daughter. “Happy birthday baby!”. It was in that moment that YN had realised that their little girl was born on her thirtieth birthday.

---

13th of April 2024

6 hours old

“Thank you.” Harry spoke into the quiet and calm room as he held their newborn in his bare arms. “You’re a real life superwoman for doing all that and bringing our girl into the world!”.

“I’d do it a thousand times again because she was totally worth it”. YN watched as Harry’s hand held onto the tiny newborn fingers. “I couldn’t have done it without you or Lotts though.”.

“She’s your double”. Harry smiled as he observed the little’s one features, all resembling her mother’s. “She looks like your Mum too!”. He gave YN a sad smile.

YN didn’t want to get too emotional at the thought that her Mum wasn’t there to meet her daughter, so she tried to remain positive. “I think me Mum sent her as a birthday gift and it’s the best gift I’ve ever had”.

---

Instagram Reel:

Made by Lottie

The black and white video begins, the sound of Heartbeat by James Arthur playing over it.

YN is sat on the birthing ball, her hips moving slowly, in her grandparents living room. Harry kneeling down in front of her, holding her gently and whispering how well she’s doing. Louis is sat to her side, holding onto her hand and being a support whilst he can.

In the hospital corridor, YN has her neck tucked into Harry’s chest as they stop to allow her to breathe through a contraction. Harry places small pecks to the top of her head.

Sitting crossed leg on the bed, YN takes in the gas and air that she’s holding up to her mouth. Her eyes are closed as she’s breathing through each contraction.

YN is in the birthing pool, the gas and air still attached to her hand has she takes in another breath, Harry is kneeling down by her side. She holds onto his hand, he looks on with a slight frown on his face as he watches his wife work through another contraction.

Now lying on the bed, YN cradles her new born daughter to her chest, tears running down her and Harry’s face as they meet their little baby for the first time. Grace Johannah Robyn Styles had stolen their hearts and YN couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift.

---

ynstyles

liked by annetwist, lottietomlinson, and 5,634,543 others

ynstyles Grace Johannah Robyn Styles🤍 View all 15,788 comments

niallhoran Aww my little bestie❤️Can’t wait to meet her xx ⌞ ynstyles Little Grace is excited to meet her Uncle Niall!!

gemmastyles I’M AN AUNTIE🥰❤️Thank you both for blessing me with the most beautiful niece xx ⌞ynstyles AUNTIE GEM🩷

annetwist My family grows and my heart is so full❤️Congratulations my darlings! Grace is a beautiful little girl and I love you all very much xxx ⌞ynstyles We love you😘🥰Thank you for being the best Grandma already❤️

lottietomlinson Our beautiful Grace!! What a magical moment watching her come into the world. Love you all ❤️ ⌞ynstyles Thank you for being there every step of the way Lotts!! I’m so glad I got to share that special moment with you. Love you lots🩷

louist91 Can’t wait for more cuddles!! Proud of you both!! Grace is amazing!!xx ⌞ynstyles Grace loved her snuggles with Uncle Lou xxx ⌞harryfan3 Uncle Louis🥹 ⌞louisfan7 I bet Louis is the best uncle!!!!

zayn congrats guys! So happy for you. Big love x ⌞ynstyles Thanks Z! Hope to see you soon xx ⌞1dfan6 OMG!!! WE’RE GETTING A REUNION!

louteasdale 🥹🥹🥹Congratulations babes, can’t wait for a cuddle xx

liampayne Congratulations both. Can’t wait to meet her!

the.daisytomlinson Another precious niece to love🩷 So proud of you sis xx

thephoebetomlinson Olive’s little bestie🩷🩷

marktommo1111 Beyond proud❤️Another chapter begins!xx

mrlewisburton Congratulations to both of you. Welcome to parenthood❤️

sallietommo A precious baby girl! So proud of you beautiful girl❤️❤️❤️

perrieedwards Congratulations babes🩷Welcome to motherhood xx

pillowpersonpp Wow! What a cutie🥹

daniellepeazer Beautiful name🤍Can’t wait to meet her☺️

ryan.viggars ❤️

jefezoff Congrats guys! Very happy for you both!

j_corden A huge congratulations. Can’t wait to meet the little one

jack.varley7 Congrats guys!!

brianasrealaccount Congratulations Auntie YN and Uncle Harry. I can’t wait to meet baby Grace. I love you so much, love from Freddie❤️ ⌞ynstyles We can’t wait to see you Fred! Grace can’t wait for cuddles from her big cousin. Love and miss you soooooo much😘

Tag List:

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burningembers91 · 4 months ago

Text

Hallasan - Kim Do-Hyun x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

The Choices We Make The Beauty and her Beast The Difference Between Men and Boys In the Harsh Light of Day

Synopsis: Kim Do-Hyun takes you on your first adventure, and has serious thoughts about his future as a mercenary.

A/N: When researching mountains in Korea, I was originally going to base this story in Jirisan National Park, but then I came across Hallasan, and it's now officially added to my travel bucket list. I've added some pictures below because the scenery is seriously stunning!

It had always been your dream to travel, to explore every hidden gem the world had to offer. Kim Do-Hyun knew how badly you wanted to see the world, and he’d made it his mission to make your dreams come true. It had been six weeks since the night in the bar, since Do-Hyun had given into his desires. You were everything he’d ever wanted, so perfect in every way. You’d both been stuck in a blissful haze, so wrapped up in one another you barely noticed anything else. He set your heart and soul on fire, so unlike any man you’d ever been with before.

It had been Do-Hyun’s idea to go away for the weekend, to give you your first taste of adventure. He’d decided to start small, whisking you away to Jeju Island with the idea of climbing Hallasan. The views were exquisite, so out of this world and entirely breathtaking. He’d conquered the summit several times, and he knew you’d love the view from the top of the mountain. He’d gone out and bought you your own pair of hiking boots and accessories, sparing no expense for the girl of his dreams. He’d booked you into a luxury hotel, complete with a spa day to soothe the muscles he knew would ache after the hike. He was due to leave for Uzbekistan in five days, and he wanted to treat you like a queen before he left. Do-Hyun had no intention of telling you what he really did, but there was always that niggling fear in the back of his brain that he’d have to come clean sooner or later. You’d asked him about his job a few times and he’d always kept it vague, giving you enough details to stop you from getting suspicious. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d juggle his mercenary duties with your relationship, but he would worry about that later. The only thing on his mind at the moment was giving you the best weekend of your life.

Your flight left Seoul early, your eyes still bleary with sleep as Do-Hyun guided you through the airport. You were not a morning person, and it baffled you that your boyfriend could seemingly rise at any hour of the day, bright eyed and raring to go. He pressed a large latte lovingly into your hands, brushing his lips softly over the top of your head as you leaned into him. In hindsight, a 6am flight hadn’t been his smartest move, but getting an early start on the hike was a must.

Do-Hyun had been fortunate to see many beautiful things in his life, but nothing quite compared to the look on your face as the plane started its descent onto the island. Your eyes were bright, your smile wide as you took in the glittering ocean and large green spaces.

“Incredible,” you breathed, snapping a few pictures from the window.

It was a perfect day for a hike, the weather warm and the sky cloudless. You started your ascent, donned head to toe in the designer gear Do-Hyun had gifted you. You’d always prided yourself on keeping fit, but climbing the mountain humbled you. You had to keep stopping, pretending you were taking in the view, trying to control your breathing and acting like your lungs weren’t about to burst out of your chest. Do-Hyun’s level of fitness was astounding, and you tried your best to keep up with him, but the man was a machine.

“Can you slow down a little?” You panted, finally admitting defeat two hours in.

“You getting tired?” He teased, smiling at your beet red face. “Nope, just… taking it all in.” You could barely speak, your breath laboured as you attempted to ease a stitch in your side. “Let me help you.” Do-Hyun flipped his backpack on his chest, before hoisting you onto his back. He continued up the mountain, carrying you as though you weighed nothing. Once you’d regained your breath, you continued on, Do-Hyun slowing his pace to match yours as you made your way to the top.

You’d searched up pictures of Hallasan before the trip, but nothing could compare to the real life beauty once you got to the top. The view was straight from a fairytale, so utterly breathtaking. You sat for a while at the top, just taking in the view. Do-Hyun watched you as you took in the sight, his heart aching with love.

“What do you think?” He asked, coming to stand next to you as you snapped a few pictures. “Incredible,” you smiled. “Thank you for bringing me here.” “I’d do anything for you, you know that, right?” He whispered, cupping your chin in between his hands. “I love you.” The words he’d longed to say left his lips so easily, pulling you in close as you whispered the words back.

That night, your muscles aching with the fatigue of a seven hour hike, Do-Hyun ran you a bath, the hot water soothing your aching legs as you reclined against his chest amidst the pile of vanilla scented bubbles. He made love to you, entwined in the silk sheets, drawing your pleasure out again and again. Your moans drove him crazy, your soft whimpers spurring him on as he made you fall apart over and over again.

Neither of you wanted to leave the island, content to stay locked away in the sancitiy of your hotel. But Do-Hyun had a job to do, had a team who were counting on him. For the first time in a long time, he found himself hesitant to go, wishing he’d turned down the job to stay with you.

He’d never been bothered about putting his life on the line for a payday, not since the passing of his parents. For a long time, Do-Hyun hadn’t had anyone or anything to live for; but now he had you. He didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to fight wars for rich and powerful men anymore, didn’t want to risk his life for those who didn’t give a damn about him so long as he got the job done.

As he boarded the plane that would take him to his next mission, he replayed his goodbye with you. A lingering kiss that he didn’t want to end, his hands gripping you waist as he willed his feet to walk away from your door.

For the first time, Do-Hyun wondered whether it was time to give up his life as a mercenary and settle down with the woman of his dreams.

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #mercenary kim smut #mercenary kim #kim do hyun smut #kim do hyun x you #kim do hyun x reader #kim do hyun

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y123345 · 10 months ago

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Hard pregnancy scenerios

I kind of love when pregnant people are doing things they shouldn't do at the places they shouldn't be in the first place. Love it more when they try to hide their labour and push the baby back in when crowning.

1. Heavily pregnant general still wearing the armor that was made when they were 6 month pregnant. Now they are 9 months and the armor is too small for their twin filled pregnant belly to fit in but they have no choice but to squeeze in painfully squishing their big belly everyday and fighting in war

2. Pregnant and working at a moving company. Doctor suggested you to rest? You don't care. You kept on lifting and moving heavy funitures which triggered pre mature contractions. Even better if you tripped and fell on your stomach while carrying a washing machine on your back

3. Being forced to carry someone bridal style when you are 38 weeks pregnant with triplets. The preson's whole body weight is pressing on your hefty stomach and put you into labour

4. Actually pregnant stunt double doing dangerous action scenes in place of a non-pregnant actor/actress who is acting in the role of pregnant character. Then getting punched/ kneed and stomped on their belly during fighting scenes triggering labour but they have to keep going until the shooting is over

5. You are being forced to run on a treadmill while heavily pregnant. You can't keep up with the speed and fall really hard on your belly and skid onto the hard floor

6. Super rough sex grinding on your pregnant belly sending you into labour

7. A very passionate gym trainer who always works out together with each client everyday even after getting pregnant with twins. The nearer their due date, the more clients they get and finally ended up working out, doing cardio, lifting weights with different clients almost 10 hours a day. Excessive doing of jumping jacks, plunks, crunches, squats, push ups and sits up which all these exercises squish their belly repeatedly the whole day and triggers their contractions.

8. A pregnant stripper accidentally made the bad spin and smash their own stomach against the pole and went into labour. But tried to igmore the water breaking and painful contractions to perform through the night to earn more money for the babies.

#birth denial #pregnant #clothing birth #water breaking #giving birth #pregnancy #birth kink

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maraudersilver · 1 month ago

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DOE EYES (Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader) Chapter 5

MASTERLIST Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing.

A/N: After a historic power outage in my country, I’ve been able to update!!! I hope is a good chapter, because these last few hours have been… interesting. Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

Wc: +4K

Life back at District 6 had been nice. For a few months, you had been left on your own with no intervention from the Capitol, so your family made the most of it. Hikes up to the mountains, strolls downtown to spend money in the District, anecdotes of the history that survived of your people, dancing to the beat of nature.

Before your reaping, many of those things were done along with your friends. But that was a long time ago, where your mind was not troubled and lost to the cruelties of the world. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss them, yet there was nothing left to save from what it used to be. And, the fewer people around you, the less the Capitol could bargain with their wellbeing.

“Tend to the fire, you twat. Do you want to burn the woods or what?” Miles shoved your head, waking you from your thoughts.

That afternoon you had taken up the mountains to reconnect with nature. Most of the District’s forests had been burned down to ashes in order to install train building factories. It was way before you were born, even before your parents and grandparents, yet it was something that remained in your hearts, the pain of Amalur after losing her children to labour.

Your people were ingrained in the very depths of nature’s heart, your main Goddesses being Amalur and the supreme goddess Mari, mother nature and her personification. Not much of your mythology had survived, only the embers of what once was, endured the destruction of your culture.

So, to pay for the sins of humanity, you would go up to the mountains where they surely had moved along with your people to visit and worship them. In the caves you encountered up the hill, you would lay a pebble in offering, asking for the day where your people would be free again.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, pushing the embers with a stick.

“What are you planning on singing?” your mother asked once everyone was sitting around the fire, eating the rations you gathered for your small trip eagerly.

“I don’t know. Nothing too controversial.” You shrugged your shoulders. Snow had sent a letter to ask you to sing live in the Capitol party of the Victory Tour. You obviously had accepted, as if you had any other choice. “Maybe a new song. I have at most a week to compose it.”

“Why not an old one?”

“People at the Capitol get tired soon, Rail,” you tutted. “I need something new.”

“I’m sure Mari will help you with inspiration.” Your father smiled sweetly, his bright eyes shining under the rare rays of sun permeating through the grey clouds.

You couldn’t help but smile back. If something was worthy of surviving the Games, it was taking your father off his job at the factory. He loved trains, but they were sucking the life out of him. Just to see your family out of poverty, you would do it all over again, even when your mind had been in a fog ever since.

Reality loomed when you arrived in town. Peacekeepers shoving, metallic hammer blows screeching, children sucked to the bones beseeching for food. The mountains concealed the terror for a while, but it always came back. In times like those, you wondered if your gods had abandoned you for good. Maybe the harm inflicted had been too great to ignore.

Marching towards Victor’s Village felt like a walk of shame. You had much more than what you needed, minted, and your people barely made it to the end of the day. The only thing that could lift your spirits was the letter under the door.

“Boyfie writing again?” Rail made obscene kissing sounds, guffawing when your mother smacked the back of his head.

“Jealous because nobody likes you?”

“Hey!”

Rail was so easy to rile up you just couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter how many times you explained Finnick wasn’t your boyfriend, both Rail and your mother did not believe you. Only Miles and your dad seemed to catch on what you meant to each other.

“Go sit on the couch, darling,” your father urged you, walking beside you as you jigged to the living room.

Finnick and you had been writing to each other more often than ever. Especially because none of you could reach Johanna. It was weird, how quietly she had disappeared from events. Disturbing. Not a single letter, not a whisper of her whereabouts. What could have possibly happened to her?

Your hopes of Finnick gathering answers were brought down by the recipient. ‘Doe Eyes.’ Supplanting the dread came the giddiness, which took you by surprise. Why were you feeling giddy about a possible letter from Haymitch? It didn’t matter, you didn’t have time to gnaw on it before you were tearing the envelope apart, gaining a few odd looks from your family.

“Jeez, someone’s thirsty for attention,” joked Rail, who sat as far from your parents as possible. He learned his lesson, you thought.

You just shushed him.

The handwriting was messy and askew, and from plain sight it was obvious it was filled with spelling mistakes. He had more than possibly written it while plastered. Yet, it was easy enough to read, and short enough to leave you hanging on every word.

Doe Eyes,

5 leters in 4 months? Really? What could you posibly hav to say that it needs 5 leters? Hang out with a younglin once and they think your they’re caretaker.

I’m glad to hear your doing well. Me myself am doin fine.

Dont write more. Papers expensiv.

Haymitch.

You scoffed, the corners of your mouth betraying you by lifting into an amused smile. Of course he was grumpy about receiving letters. And, if you were being honest, after five letters without reply you weren’t expecting one anymore. But here it was, in Haymitch’s sweaty and crooked handwriting. If you had been alone, maybe you would have sniffed the alcoholic perfume shedding off of the sheet.

“My, what are you so smiley about? Finnick finally confessed?” Miles teased with a smirk, and you rolled your eyes.

“Tell that boy you’re too young to have a boyfriend.”

“I’m 23.”

“Exactly my point.” Your father reclined in his chair with mock seriousness.

Shaking your head, you reread the letter, biting your lip to prevent another smile from breaking your countenance.

“Is Finnick alright?” your mother finally asked, lifting her gaze from the embroidery.

You paused for a second. “Yeah,” you lied. “As perfect as always.”

“Good to hear. Tell him we say hi!”

“I will.”

There was no point in talking about Haymitch to them. What would you say? That you were happy to hear about the drunken victor from District 12? You weren’t friends, all interactions reserved for ephemeral encounters. The only time where you actually got a hold on him was in the last event, and yet you wondered how much of it he remembered, booze had been running down his veins by then.

However, Haymitch didn’t leave your mind at all during the following week. Up in the mountains, lost to the woods and lyre in hand, you composed what you deemed your best song until then.

You ended up singing an old song as Rail suggested. The one that came to you in the ample melody of the woods was too controversial to perform in the Capitol. So a love song it was. And how easy it was so tame a crowd of tossers, just an impish glance of romance enough to bring them to the edge. It took five minutes to calm them down after you came off stage.

Plutarch moseyed on you before you had the chance to prance to Finnick, who had been your personal cheerleader during your performance.

“That’s what I call a concert,” Plutarch lauded.

“Thank you.” Your polite and sweet demeanor returned, the mask you used at the Capitol.

“I asked Haymitch to tell you last time that I wanted to have a word with you. Never trust a drunk,” he chuckled acutely, too much for your liking.

You tutted. “He did tell me. The timing wasn’t the right one, though. I didn’t get a glimpse of you all afternoon.” Your tone had been too harsh, making you flinch inwardly, so you sweetened your next words. “But here you have me now! What can I help you with?”

“Always so sweet,” he muttered with a cautious grin. “I forgot!”

“A lie it must have been, as my people say,” you joked, although your insouciance smile let out more than you could with words.

Plutarch just laughed, waving you off. “Maybe, who knows? We have too many things to say in so little time. But look, it seems a storm’s approaching.”

You furrowed your brows, looking out the window to a perfect starry night. “Um, if you say so.”

“I’m just waiting for a thunderclap. Then I’ll know it's started. Do you get me?”

“No.”

The man gave you a cheshire smile. “It was nice talking to you. See you later.”

Same as with Beetee, you were left with a funny feeling. Something was going on and somehow you were expected to be part of it, yet nobody was explaining it. However, what had Beetee and Plutarch had to do with the other? One you could trust, even if he was a little off, but the other was the definition of ominous.

Back at the centre of the room you saw Finnick talking animatedly with Mags. Prancing, you made your way to them until you saw another figure strewn in the sofas by the far end of the room. Haymitch looked naff, dressed in the Capitol fashion. His garb was gaudy and disparaging, all dressed in subdued colours such as dove and black. It contrasted with his unkempt blonde hair, waving down his features and hiding his somber eyes.

Torn, your gaze wandered from Finnick to Haymitch, from Haymitch to Finnick. But seeing the content smile in your friend as he talked to his mentor, and the gloomy aura of the drunken victor, you made your decision while a dove feather dived behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t the songbird,” yakked Haymitch, toasting his glass filled with what you assumed to be whiskey towards you.

You snorted. “Songbird? What happened to ‘doe eyes’?”

“Thought to shift for a change,” he winded-up as you plopped next to him, some of his liquor sloshing down the couch. “Careful there!”

“Clutch the glass tighter next time,” you stuck your tongue out, to which the man rolled his eyes. “You know, for someone who drinks so much, I expected you to at least know how to grab a glass.”

“Care for a demonstration?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at his peeve. “I’ll leave the drinking to you.”

“I thought so.”

Looking back at him, he seemed lost in his mind, eyes misty, so you put a topic over the table that he couldn’t get away from. “You wrote me back,” you sing-song.

“Didn’t have any other option. You gobby thing couldn’t stop writing to me,” he huffed, although his tone was lighthearted.

“I wanted to keep you updated.”

“On what? Your composing skills?”

“Well, yes, why not?” Haymitch just shook his head in amusement.

“I don’t know what you were expecting me to reply. It’s not like many things happen in District 12.”

“You could start with how you’re doing, if you went to town, if you have a pet. I don’t know, Haymitch, there are many things you can write about,” you laughed, the man’s expression turning more and more annoyed.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, and then you two went silent.

You took the chance to peek around the hall, where the preened guests roamed all over the new victor, Alesa Tirs from District 9. It was always like that during the Victory Tour party. Everyone drooling over their new pet, while the old ones had to gather in case they felt a pull for familiar faces. Next to you both, a dab of white speckled in white lilies, perfuming the haven of your corner.

“Look at my hair! I got inspired by the burning kid from District 10.” Haymitch exclaimed in a high pitched voice, Capitol accent exaggerated to the fullest. You gaped at him in bewilderment, but his eyes were fixed in a group of guests talking among each other. “Yes! And I got surgery on my mouth to look after Cashmere!”

You snorted, changing into a chuckle when you noticed that, in fact, that woman’s mouth was an exact replica of the District 1 victor. “That’s nothing compared to my fabulous eye colour change! Who wants green when I can have them brown after that tribute… What was his name? The one that got torn apart by mutts last year?” You continued the play, a low sounding voice coming out of your throat in an attempt to mimic a man’s voice. Haymitch chortled.

“There were many! Which one? I can’t even remember their names. Oh! Look! There comes a victor! District 10, right?” Haymitch continued, more and more askew in his seat. “Oh, Brutus! Of course I remember you. Can I touch your abs?”

“I can’t believe I haven’t tried that dish over there! Give me a minute, I need to throw up.”

“Maybe we should talk about the socio-economic impact of the make-up industry in the Capitol and how it affects perception of aging.”

“The what impact?”

Haymitch and you continued like that for a whole hour, mimicking different Capitol guests and their conversations. It was hogwash, you knew, yet it had lifted your heart a little to hear Haymitch laugh so hard after looking so blue before.

You didn’t notice Finnick hogging towards you two until he jumped on you, sucking the air off your lungs. Haymitch was effing and blinding over his spilled whiskey and ruined shirt, all the while Finnick laughed. You couldn’t be mad at him, not when he looked so youthful with that grin and closed eyes. So you just pushed him over until he was sitting next to you.

“The hell was that, Odair? Can’t sit down like a normal person?” grumbled Haymitch grumpily, scrubbing a napkin up and down his shirt in an attempt to save the dove coloured vest from drenching in liquor.

“I was excited to see this beautiful woman you’re hoarding.” You scoffed, Finnick propping an arm over your shoulders while he leaned forward to look at the older man. “If I didn’t know better, Abernathy, I’d say you’re trying to get on my sweetheart’s pants.”

You felt the blood draining from your body and collecting in your face and neck like a sunlit strawberry bush. Wrapped in shame, you had been too focused on smacking Finnick to see the stiffened form of Haymitch, who recovered rapidly before any of you noticed.

“Isn’t that what you’re trying by flirting with her?” Haymitch teased back, if his groan of annoyance was any indication.

“I don’t flirt, that's my way of talking.”

“Yeah, preener, of course.”

“Anyway, what were you two doing that was so funny? You’ve been alone here for hours.”

You shook your head, a sigh leaving your lips at his implications. “We were mimicking these nimrods.”

Finnick shifted his gaze to the group you were pointing, confusion transforming in sparkling eyes. “Oh! I want to mimic Cartiel.”

Haymitch furrowed his brows. “Who's that?”

“The woman with the cat furr.” Finnick laid his head on your lap, crossing his legs carelessly over the sofa. “Well? Who starts?”

Haymitch and you shared a look, mostly annoyed, but he complied and continued with your private game.

“I want to bathe in babies’ blood.” You spilled your water like a fountain, choking on it while your laughter came almost in sobs.

“We should ask Snow to save the tributes’ blood for sale,” followed Finnick in the same high pitch voice Haymitch was attempting. “Especially the twelve year olds’.”

“That’s a great idea! I can invest in it with the money I made from betting on murdered kids.” Both men laughed at your imitation.

It was sad and lugubrious, but the three of you shared a traumatic experience, so you were entitled to joke about it as much as you wanted. The hall was bugged, but who cared? No one apart from you three were listening to the others, so no harm was actually done.

Another half an hour passed before Haymitch clumsily stood and trundled from side to side. “I’m too old for this bullshit. See you tomorrow at the station, Doe Eyes.”

“What about me?” wondered Finnick with a smug smirk.

“Get your ego up your arse.”

And with that, Haymitch hobbled over to the entrance, followed by the laughter of both Finnick and yours. The lack of his presence was notorious from the instant he left, and your spirits felt heavier than they had felt in the past few hours.

“I have to give it to him. He’s hilarious!” Finnick mumbled, sitting up and strewing just like Haymitch had been a minute ago. You nodded in agreement.

“He’s actually really kind. I feel bad for being so harsh on him before.”

“Mags says he’s always been really sweet, but I don’t see it.” Finnick shrugged his shoulders, grabbing a small sandwich and stabbing his face with it in one bite.

You bit your lip and thought of your last encounter with the older man. “Maybe he’s not the usual definition of sweet,” you said, and Finnick glanced at you with curiosity. “He noticed I don’t drink alcohol and offered to fetch me a bottle of water out of nowhere. I- I don’t know, that sounds sweet to me.”

Finnick hummed, hovering over the tray for another snack. “Seeing it like that you might be right. But I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve shared more than five words with him and most of them have been bullshit.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” You picked the small tart that Finnick offered you, giving small bites. “By the way. You wrote back this time! I can’t believe you haven’t exploited Annie for it. I’m so proud of you!”

“Why are you treating me like I’m stupid?” he scoffed at your pouty eyes. “It’s not like I never write.”

“You never write.”

“Well, yeah, because your handwriting is so bad it takes me weeks to decipher your letters.”

Finnick and you bickered for a while, the party was slowly dying and you decided it was time to leave for your quarters. For the first time in a while, Finnick had been left alone and unscarred.

“Have you seen Johanna?” you asked him once you made it to the hotel’s elevator. He shook his head, his eyes turning somber.

“No. She was not in the hall.”

“I don’t understand. They wanted her everywhere! And now they don’t invite her?”

Finnick opened his mouth to counter, but he thought better and stayed silent. You felt him, not wanting to voice your fear of something happening to the young girl. The lack of response to letters was indication enough of terrible consequences having been placed on her, Finnick knew it all too well.

The elevator stopped at Finnick’s floor. He turned to you and kissed your forehead sweetly, caressing your cheek with gentleness. “Be careful, okay? I’ll see you at the station. Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

“Sweet dreams, fish boy,” you replied softly, smiling sadly at him before the doors closed again.

A few months later the reaping for the 73rd Hunger Games occurred, and you were pushed back on a train along with a sixteen year old boy and a fourteen year old girl. You wished you had another victor to mentor along with you, but both Kyller and Therese were too far gone in morphling to be of any help. So you had to face the horrors alone.

Andromeda sat with you at dinner to watch the repository of the reaping they filmed for Panem, observing the tributes and taking notes to help as much as you could with strategy to the grumpy boy and trembling girl.

“There aren’t many kids under thirteen this year,” commented Andromeda lazily, sipping from her coffee.

“Too many seventeen and eighteen year olds,” you agreed.

You saw Finnick back at the stage of District 4, took notes of District 5, saw yourself and the terrified and angry faces of your District, and finally made it to District 7, where at the end of the stage…

“Johanna!” you yelled, if it was out of joy or dread, you still weren’t sure. You were glad to see her alive, but the looming, somber look on her eyes made your skin crawl.

“Johanna Mason?” asked Burry, the boy, with a bored expression.

“Uh, yes. Johanna Mason.”

“What’s with her?” Keit’s innocent eyes bored into yours.

Feeling a knot tying your vocal cords, you shook your head. “Nothing. I got excited, sorry.”

Burry scoffed, but the topic was cut there. The four of you continued watching the reaping. In District 12, Haymitch had been already hammered and sprawled on his chair, Effie doing her best in ignoring him during the act. He looked miserable. All of his clothes were dove coloured, enhancing the dark circles under his gloomy eyes. His hair was greasy, as if he hadn’t showered in days, and his stubble was more of a beard. Haymitch looked worse than you had ever seen him.

“Poor things, look at their mentor!” scoffed Andy, shaking her head in disapproval. “There’s no wonder District 12 hasn’t had a victor in over twenty years.”

“Don’t be so harsh on him!” you exclaimed, surprising the kids, Andy and yourself. “I mean, he’s doing what he can.”

“By doing nothing and watching kids die,” huffed Burry, reclining in his chair. “If I’m grateful for something, it is not having him as a mentor.”

Your heart clenched when Keit nodded in agreement, Andy joining their complaints. Not too long ago you also thought like them, but Haymitch wasn’t careless and cold. At least, that was not the impression you got from talking to him. He even wrote to you again once between the party of the Victory Tour and the reaping.

He was a broken man, you only didn’t know to what extent. And, if you were being honest, you couldn’t really blame him for coping like that even if it happened that his only trauma were the Games themselves. Only Games’ survivors knew the toll they left on a person.

You prayed to Mari for him, to keep him in his track and guarded from pain.

Thankfully, you got a chance at seeing him when you stumbled upon him on the bar during prep-time. He had been trimmed and clean, handsome in his own way.

“Hey, Haymitch,” you sat down on a stool next to him. He already reeked of liquor.

He stiffened, which you found weird, but he brushed it off. “Here again, Doe Eyes?”

“Wanted some refreshments,” you smiled softly, asking for an orange juice, something people in the Districts could only dream about. “How are you doing?”

“Marvelous,” he strutted his stuff, his usual sarcastic mannerisms taking over.

“You sure look like it,” you teased, sipping from your juice and humming in delight. “I wish they would send this in the monthly supplies.”

Haymitch scrunched his nose in disgust, finishing his own glass of Nepenthe. “I wouldn’t find any use for it.”

“If you don’t like it, you could trade it in the market. Or gift it. That’s what I do, anyway.”

He stared at you unimpressed. “What a kind soul you are.”

You felt your face warming up at his irony. What the hell was wrong with him? “Better that than letting it rot to waste,” you snapped.

Haymitch chuckled darkly, shaking his head down to the wooden bar. “If that makes you feel better, do whatever you please, Doe Eyes.”

You didn’t understand him. Lately he had been nice, not exactly chivalrous, but kind enough. Yet at the moment he was behaving like the asshole everyone made him to be. What had changed in those few months?

“When you stop being a fucking tosser find me.” You banged the table once before standing up, Haymitch keeping his eyes down.

“Whatever.”

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart, Haymitch.” A female, ironic voice said from behind you. A voice you had grown to love and care for. The one voice you had been waiting to hear for months.

“Johanna!”

Tag list: @beingalive1 @timessa @chivasgozilla @bey0nd-1he-stars @anakhroni3m @heidiland05

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x you #haymitch deserves the world #haymitch abernathy #thg haymitch #thg series #thg sotr #sunrise on the reaping #sotr

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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It’s been twenty years since my Microsoft DRM talk

On THURSDAY (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. On FRIDAY (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel and a keynote at the LOCUS AWARDS.

This week on my podcast,This week on my podcast, I read my June 17, 2004 Microsoft Research speech about DRM, a talk that went viral two decades ago, and reassess its legacy:

https://craphound.com/msftdrm.txt

It's been 20 years (and one day) since I gave that talk. It wasn't my first talk like that, but at the time, it was the most successful talk I'd ever given. I was still learning how to deliver a talk at the time, tinkering with different prose and delivery styles (to my eye, there's a lot of Bruce Sterling in that one, something that's still true today).

I learned to give talks by attending sf conventions and watching keynotes and panel presentations and taking mental notes. I was especially impressed with the oratory style of Harlan Ellison, whom I heard speak on numerous occasions, and by Judith Merril, who was a wonderful mentor to me and many other writers:

https://locusmag.com/2021/09/cory-doctorow-breaking-in/

I was also influenced by the speakers I'd heard at the many political rallies I'd attended and helped organize; from the speakers at the annual Labour Day parade to the anti-nuclear proliferation and pro-abortion rights marches I was very involved with. I also have vivid memories of the speeches that Helen Caldicott gave in Toronto when I was growing up, where I volunteered as an usher:

https://www.helencaldicott.com/

When I helped found a dotcom startup in the late 1990s, my partners and I decided that I'd do the onstage talking; we paid for a couple hours of speaker training from an expensive consultant in San Francisco. The only thing I remember from that session was the advice to look into the audience as much as possible, rather than reading from notes with my head down. Good advice, but kinda obvious.

The impetus for that training was my onstage presentation at the first O'Reilly P2P conference in 2001. I don't quite remember what I said there, but I remember that it made an impression on Tim O'Reilly, which meant a lot to me then (and now):

https://www.oreilly.com/pub/pr/844

I don't remember who invited me to give the talk at Microsoft Research that day, but I think it was probably Marc Smith, who was researching social media at the time by data-mining Usenet archives to understand social graphs. I think I timed the gig so that I could kill three birds with one stone: in addition to that talk, I attended (and maybe spoke at?) that year's Computers, Freedom and Privacy conference, and attended an early preview of the soon-to-launch Sci Fi Museum (now the Museum of Pop Culture). I got to meet Nichelle Nichols (and promptly embarrassed myself by getting tongue-tied and telling her how much I loved the vocals she did on her recording of the Star Wars theme, something I'm still hot around the ears over, though she was a pro and gently corrected me, "I think you mean Star *Trek"):

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=4IiJUQSsxNw&list=OLAK5uy_lHUn58fbpceC3PrK2Xu9smBNBjR_-mAHQ

But the start of that trip was the talk at Microsoft Research; I'd been on the Microsoft campus before. That startup I did? Microsoft tried to buy us, which prompted our asshole VCs to cram the founders and steal our equity, which created so much acrimony that the Microsoft deal fell through. I was pretty bitter at the time, but in retrospect, I really dodged a bullet – for one thing, the deal involved my going to work for Microsoft as a DRM evangelist. I mean, talk about the road not taken!

This was my first time back at Microsoft as an EFF employee. There was some pre-show meet-and-greet-type stuff, and then I was shown into a packed conference room where I gave my talk and had a lively (and generally friendly) Q&A. MSR was – and is – the woolier side of Microsoft, where all kinds of interesting people did all kinds of great research.

Indeed, almost every Microsoft employee I've ever met was a good and talented person doing the best work they could. The fact that Microsoft produces such a consistent stream of garbage products and crooked business practices is an important testament to the way that a rotten organization can be so much less than the sum of its parts.

I'm a fully paid up subscriber to Ronald Coase's "Theory of the Firm" (not so much his other views):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theory_of_the_firm

Coase says the reason institutions exist is to enable people to work together with lowered "coordination costs." In other words, if you and I are going to knit a sweater together, we're going to need to figure out how to make sure that we're not both making the left sleeve. Creating an institution – the Mafia, the Catholic Church, Microsoft, a company, a co-op, a committee that puts on a regional science fiction con – is all about minimizing those costs.

As Yochai Benkler pointed out in 2002, the coolest and most transformative thing about the internet is that it let us do more complex collective work with smaller and less structured institutions:

https://www.benkler.org/CoasesPenguin.PDF

That was the initial prompt for my novel Walkaway, which asked, "What if we could build luxury hotels and even space programs with the kind of (relatively) lightweight institutional overheads associated with Wikipedia and the Linux kernel?"

https://crookedtimber.org/2017/05/10/coases-spectre/

So the structure of institutions is really important. At the same time, I'm skeptical of the idea that there are "good companies" and "bad companies." Small businesses, family businesses, and other firms that aren't exposed to the finance sector can reflect their leaders' personalities, but it's a huge mistake to ascribe personalities to the companies themselves.

That's how you get foolish ideas like "Apple is a good company because they embrace paid service and Google is a bad company because they make money from surveillance." Apple will spy on you, too, if they can:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Disney and Fox weren't Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers making goo-goo eyes at each other across the table at MPA meetings. They were two giant public companies, and any differences between them were irrelevancies and marketing myths:

https://locusmag.com/2021/07/cory-doctorow-tech-monopolies-and-the-insufficient-necessity-of-interoperability/

I think senior management's personalities do matter (see, for example, the destruction of Boeing after it was colonized by sociopaths from McDonnell Douglas), but the influence of those personalities is much less important than the constraints that competition and regulation impose on companies. In other words, an asshole can run a company that delivers good products at fair prices under ethical conditions – provided that failing to do so will cost more in lost business and fines than they stand to make by cheating:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/24/record-scratch/#autoenshittification

Microsoft is a company founded and run by colossal assholes. Bill Gates is a monster and he surrounded himself with monsters, and they hired monsters to fill out the courts of their corporate palaces:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/14/patch-tuesday/#fool-me-twice-we-dont-get-fooled-again

To the extent that good things come out of Microsoft – some of its games products, the odd piece of hardware, important papers from MSR – it's in spite of the leadership; it's the result of constraints imposed by competition and regulation – and that's why Microsoft pursued such an aggressive program of extinguishing its competitors and capturing its regulators.

In retrospect, I think one of my goals in that talk was to convince those people doing good work for a rotten institution to go elsewhere and do other things. Certainly, that's one of the goals I pursue in the talks I give today. At the time, some of Microsoft's highest-profile technologists were publicly resigning over the company's war on free/open source software, so it wasn't an unrealistic goal:

https://web.archive.org/web/20030214215639/http://synthesist.net/writing/onleavingms.html

What I did not expect what that publishing the talk on my site and blogging it on Boing Boing would spark a wave of public interest that would get its message in front of several orders of magnitude more people than I spoke to at Microsoft that day. Partly, that was because I released the talk into the public domain, using the brand-new Creative Commons Public Domain Declaration (which was later replaced with the CC0 mark, due to legal issues withBu its drafting):

https://web.archive.org/web/20100223035835/http://creativecommons.org/licenses/publicdomain/

Some mix of the content of the speech, the spirit of the moment, and the novelty of that wide open license sparked a ton of interest. Jason Kottke recorded an audio version that Andy Baio hosted:

https://kottke.org/04/06/cory-drm-talk

My brutalist ASCII transcript was quickly converted to beautiful HTML by Matt Haughey and Anil Dash:

https://web.archive.org/web/20040622235333/http://www.dashes.com/anil/stuff/doctorow-drm-ms.html

For people who needed a hardcopy, there was Patrick Berry's printer-friendly stylesheet:

https://patandkat.com/pat/weblog/mirror/cory-drm/doctorow-drm-ms.html

Multiple people recorded (and sold!) audio versions, and then there were all the fan translations, into Danish, French, Finnish, German, Hebrew, Hungarian, Italian, Japanese, Norwegian, Polish, Portuguese (both EU and Brazilian), Spanish and Swedish. I stayed in touch with some of those translators, and they helped me translate the position papers I wrote for UN WIPO meetings. Those papers were so effective that ratfuckers from the copyright lobby started to steal them and hide them in the UN toilets (!):

https://web.archive.org/web/20041119132831/https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/archives/002117.php

Re-reading the speech for my podcast on Sunday, I expected to be struck by the anachronisms in it, and there were a few of those to be sure. But far more clear was the common thread running from this talk to other talks I gave that took on a significant life of their own, like my 2011 "War On General Purpose Computing" talk for CCC:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

And my work on Adversarial Interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

And my most recent work, on enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

In other words, I've been saying the same thing – in different ways – for more than 20 years. That could be depressing, but I actually found it uplifting. Two decades ago, I was radicalized by a fear that the internet would be seized by corporations and governments and transformed into a system of surveillance and control. I found my way into a job at EFF, where I worked with colleagues across multiple disciplines – coders, lawyers and activists – to fight this force.

At the time, this was a fringe cause. Most of the traditional activists I'd come up with in the feminist, antiwar, antiracist, environmental and labour movement viewed digital rights as a distraction and dismissed its partisans as sad, self-obsessed nerds who mistook fights over the management of Star Trek message boards for civil rights struggles:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/10/04/small-change-malcolm-gladwell

I thought I was right then, and I think history has borne me out. The point of waging these fights – both in the wide public sphere and within political movements – is to get people activated before it's too late. Every day that goes by is a day when the internet becomes more inhospitable to political organizing for a better world – more surveillant, more controlling. I believed then – and believe today – that the internet isn't more important that the other fights I waged as a young activist, but I think that the internet is fundamental to those fights.

Saving the planet, smashing patriarchy, overthrowing tyranny and freeing labor are all fights that will be coordinated – Coase style – on the internet. Without a free, fair and open internet, those fights are infinitely harder to win.

The project of getting people to understand, care about, and fight for digital rights is a marathon, not a sprint. When I joined EFF, it was already 12 years old. There were six people in the org then (I was the seventh). Today, there's more than a hundred of us, and we're stretched so thin! The 30+ year old idea that internet policy will intersect with every part of every fight has been utterly vindicated.

Back in 2004, I asked Microsoft why they were willing to fight the US government to the death over antitrust enforcement, but were such wimps when confronted with the entertainment industry's demands for DRM. 20 years later, I think I know the answer: Microsoft understood that DRM would let them usurp the relationship between creative workers, entertainment industry companies, and audiences. Their perfect instincts for seeking out and capitalizing on opportunities to seize monopoly power drove them to make deliberately defective products, in the belief that their market power would let them cram those products down our throats:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/01/27/protect-your-investment-buy-open/

Here's a link to the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2024/06/16/my-2004-microsoft-drm-talk/

And here's direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive; they'll host your stuff for free forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_470/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_470_-_My_2004_Microsoft_DRM_Talk.mp3

And here's the RSS feed for my podcast:

https://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/18/greetings-fellow-pirates/#arrrrrrrrrr

#pluralistic #drm #enshittification #microsoft #microsoft research #podcasts #mp3s #history #trusted computing #ngscb #retrospectives

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