#we discussed it with my coach and she said we had to have my legal name on it because. i dont know. fuck trans people i guess

[devotedlystrangewizard]

sometimes i barely even think about being trans anymore because its just such a normal part of my life now where everyone uses my name & all but now that im graduating im soon getting a piece of paper that has my deadname on it as proof that i graduated and. i dont know. kinda ruins the entire graduation part

[myeyesarebrighter]

Ok the story from school. I have some time to share coherently now.

So this week, during health, a boy said “my brother kissed his cousin…” M reports that he went on to say and they got married, etc. So M said “what are you, adopted?” Her delivery was abrupt and understood as being mean intended. Class was redirected.

The health teacher relayed to the main class teacher, who pulled M aside. She explained that we don’t directly ask people that question because it can be upsetting for them. She explained about how her niece was adopted by her brother, who met her in a boarding home for homeless people. The girls mom died and her dad “didn’t want her,” so she was homeless and living on porches in the rain. She went on to ask m to imagine if she was this girl and her parent didn’t want her, and then a girl meanly shouted “what are you, adopted” at her. How would she feel? Then M apologized to the boy. The apology was perceived as being unemotional and not particularly heartfelt.

I agree that we shouldn’t shout “are you adopted” at another child.

So I asked M to explain to me what happened today at school with the adoption thing. I didn’t coach and told her she specifically was not in trouble, I just wanted to know about it and if she had questions. She explained that the way the child said “my brother / his cousin” made her wonder if it was also HIS cousin, or just the brothers cousin. She also said she knows we can’t marry our cousins and she also wanted to know how they were married if they were cousins…. Because she wants to marry her cousin and wanted to know how to do that.

So this story is really complex. It looks one way but…

My sister died a year ago and my nephew finds himself with a dead mom and an addict father, living with my parents because, well, his dad isn’t equipped to parent alone. My parents are his guardians legally. We have talked at length about adoption, how any or all of us would adopt nephew at the drop of a hat, and we would do that because we love him and NOT because no one else loves him/doesn’t want him. Adoption is an act of love, not an act of desperate rescue, and it is up to people who are adopted to tell us how they feel. Period. My nephew speaks openly about this and knowing that many of us would adopt him brings him great comfort. His fear was that something awful could happen to the people caring for him and he wouldn’t have anyone…. Hello this has happened and his fears are founded in his reality.

ANYWAY. M also loves her cousin more than anyone and has begged me to marry him. I’ve explained that marriage is welcoming someone to your family, so it’s not needed for someone who is ALREADY your family! Save it for someone new!

And so here we are, with the full story of how a little girl whose aunt died wants to marry her cousins, so blurts out an earnest question which is perceived as a mean and aggressive accusation. This child is trying to make sense of the world, not trying to be mean. And when she was reprimanded about it, she grew more confused and embarrassed.

I’ve talked to m about how she could have been more sensitive in what she was trying to ask and convey to her class. She could have said, hey wait, my mom says I can’t marry my cousin! How did you do that?? I now need to discuss how it is ok to show her emotions in her classroom, to her friends. It’s ok to also just say that you’re having a hard time because your feelings are big… something so that she can express her feelings in a safe way so that people don’t assume she’s an ice queen while she tries to keep them in control. Sigh.

[nicoolios]

Carve Out a Corner of the World

Happy holidays to rock-paperback-scissors! I was your gifter for the Mass Effect gift exchange, and the first thing I saw on your blog was how much you love Thane and how different the series would be if he lived. Coupled with a happy ending, the first thing I thought of was a slice of life wedding story. Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36828172 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14032339/1/Carve-Out-a-Corner-of-the-World

Layla genuinely had no idea what she was doing. She felt like she already said that a lot, especially lately, but this time it was the absolute truth. She grew up on a space station surrounded by military families constantly coming and going. She spent her entire military career, started from the second she was legally allowed to enlist, moving from one fight to the next to prove she was the best, to prove she wasn’t the crazy one, to stop the geth, the collectors, and now the Reapers. Each one was something new demanding more and more from her. This time, however, there weren’t anybody with guns threatening to shoot her. For now, at least. Now the only threat came from her friends.

Layla wanted a small ceremony. No one had time for an extravagant party, the credits were better spent elsewhere, the two of them wanted something small from the start... No matter how many times she made her excuses, Layla’s friends and crewmates insisted on doing something. So she found herself trapped in her cabin aboard the Normandy, held hostage by Miranda, trying and failing to talk her way out of whatever they had planned. She didn’t even know how Miranda got aboard the Normandy in the first place. Last she heard her friend was off on some secret project involving the Alliance after rescuing her sister, so secret she refused to tell Layla for fear of distracting her from her own desperate mission. Yet somehow Miranda found her way aboard the Normandy when they docked at the Citadel for supplies, got past several layers of security on the most notorious ship in the galaxy, and tracked Layla down to her cabin, where she was putting her own affairs in order so she could leave the ship.

“Remind me again why I can’t leave my own ship?” Layla said, arms crossed over her chest, looking up at Miranda from her position on the coach.

“You’re allowed to leave,” Miranda answered. ���Just only when I allow it. Which should be soon, given how long everyone has been at it.”

Layla huffed. She was supposed to meet Ashley for lunch, Aria to discuss adding her gangs to the galaxy’s assets, the asari councilor, so many individuals to drop off random bits and pieces she found traveling around the galaxy... She didn’t have time to wait in her cabin for a surprise. She didn’t even like surprises. Growing up surrounded by military and living her life surrounded by mysteries that later ended up biting her in the ass didn’t leave much of an appreciation for life repeatedly throwing the unknown at her. She thought all of her crew, past and present, knew that. Miranda most of all, as the person who rebuilt her from nothing.  

“I’m sure it will be any moment now...aha! There it is.” Miranda’s omni tool began blinking. She hid the message from Layla’s sight, also not a good sign. “You have my permission to leave now.”

“Not like I needed it in the first place.” For all her grumbling Layla trusted Miranda implicitly. If she wanted Layla to stay in her cabin she would, regardless of how many other, more important tasks she had to complete. She went along with it when Miranda said to close her eyes, that she’d know if Layla peeked, that Layla knew what Miranda was capable of if she dared disobey. She stumbled her way off the Normandy, into an elevator, through the Citadel, enough to completely lose her sense of place. She plowed straight into Miranda after walking in a straight line for far too long, nearly knocking the both of them over. “Can I look now?”

“So impatient. I don’t remember you being like this when we fought together.”

“I can think of a few things that changed between now and then, Miranda.”  

“Yet somehow you’ve hardly changed a bit. Open your eyes, Layla.”

Within a second of the words leaving Miranda’s mouth Layla’s eyes shot open. They were in a secluded corner of a park in the Presidium surrounded by artificial trees, artfully placed to protect them from the cameras that tracked them constantly. Dripping icicle lights hung from their branches. White balloons lined a path to a small arch decorated with lilies. On either side stood her crew, everyone who could sneak away from their duties for the day. At the end stood Thane, looking not quite one hundred percent but healthier than he had in weeks, expressing the most emotion Layla had ever seen at one time. Everyone turned around at their approach, their expressions in varying stages of mirth and excitement, prompting Layla’s cheeks to turn bright red.

“We know you wanted something small,” Miranda said by way of explanation. “And we know you kept putting that something small off because of all your responsibilities. We agreed that with everything going on, and with the possibility of any one of us not making it to tomorrow, we did some research on Earth traditions and organized this get together.”

Layla's eyes kept dancing from one thing to the next, not believing any of what she saw. In the back of her mind, she knew they were all one close call away from not making it back alive. Thane's brush with Kai Leng was the wakeup call they both needed to solidify their relationship status. But the hospital seemed like a bad place to discuss their future, and Layla already struggled enough with romance and discussing her feelings. Over time it became one more thing pushed aside in favor of the war. She knew Thane had other visitors besides her, and Kolyat had become rather cagey in the past few weeks, but she never put two and two together. Thane must’ve been the one to put this together, the sentimental sap.

Layla never realized she was supposed to be moving until Miranda grabbed her arm. “You know this is the part where you walk down the aisle, correct? I understand none of us are mired in tradition, but you must’ve seen a vid or two about weddings.”

Wedding. This is a wedding. That one word drove it home. Layla and Thane would be married. Their friends knew that’s what they ultimately wanted, especially if one were to fall in battle. To go down as husband and wife so there would be no doubt about their relationship. Miranda half guided, half dragged her down the short aisle. With everyone’s eyes glued to her her brain short circuited. Layla didn’t do stuff like this. She preferred to blend into the background. She was dressed in a basic Alliance uniform, for crying out loud. Miranda's grip held fast, preventing whatever she thought she would do otherwise. Maybe bolt, or drag Thane out of there herself for some actual alone time. They made it to the arch. Thane took her hand, pulling her close, and that alone erased any thoughts Layla had to an escape plan.  

“This isn’t what we read about on the extranet,” Thane said softly, “yet it suits us more, I think. Carving out a corner of the world for ourselves.”

Carving out a corner of the world. Layla liked that. She never would’ve thought of that on her own, and yet it perfectly described what she wanted most with Thane. “So long as you’re here, everything’s perfect.”

“Perfect. That's a good word, siha. Today shall be perfect.”

They stood there for a moment, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, lost to everything and everyone. Layla always discounted perfection for everything off the battlefield, since she was raised into becoming the perfect soldier. Little else was supposed to matter. Relationships certainly weren’t. And yet here she was, literally standing at an alter with the love of her life.

“Are you two quite finished?” Miranda’s voice made Layla jump. She stood behind them, her omni tool up. Of course she was ordained. She was Miranda Lawson. “Good. Now let’s get you married.”    

Married. Layla wanted nothing more.

[maple-clef]

saw your post in the tags... I'd love to read about Peter explaining smartphones, twitter, Instagram, etc. to Thomas Nightingale

‘And how is Beverley?’ asked Nightingale.

‘She’s glowing,’ I said, ‘but don’t change the subject.’

Nightingale shook his head. ‘Peter, I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the efforts you’ve gone to to reach out to the, uh, wider community.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, politely ignoring the way he’d said the C-word. After all, it was the product of lack of use rather than any disdain for the concept; the fact that he was entertaining me right now was proof of that.

‘I’m just not sure that my competencies extend to social media maven.’

‘We all have to start somewhere,’ I said gamely. ‘It’s good to learn new skills. Helps us to teach things to others, in turn.’

Nightingale arched an eyebrow at me.

‘Yes, well,’ I said. ‘Shall we go back over these again? What do you remember?’

Nightingale sighed. ‘That one with the bird is for text updates,’ he said, pointing at the blue-and-white icon. ‘Oh – where has it gone?’

‘You’ve, uh, deleted it from the home screen,’ I said. ‘Hang on, I just have to drag it up from the rest of the apps again…’ I handed the smartphone back to him. ‘Ok. Try and post something…’

He successfully found the icon to start a new Tweet. I was further encouraged when he began to type – albeit a little slowly, with just the one finger. Then-

‘It’s gone,’ said Nightingale, frowning. ‘I was typing, then it vanished…’

I retrieved the smartphone from him and studied our Twitter feed. I read the most recent entry:

HELL

‘I was trying to say hello,’ said Nightingale.

‘I think you sent it a little prematurely,’ I said, deleting it.

‘It’s the screen,’ said Nightingale with a small sigh. ‘I’m awful at typing with nothing solid to type against. My fingers slip. But I suppose it’s just practice.’

‘Maybe we can employ Molly to be our social media officer while I’m on paternity leave,’ I mused. ‘After all, she’s got a lot of experience.’

Nightingale smiled. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘She has so few things that are hers, and that aren’t connected to the Folly. I’m sure she’d be wonderful at it, but I can’t help but feel it would be an imposition in some way.’

He’s deceptively thoughtful, my boss. It’s understated, but I’m reminded of it on occasion, and his protectiveness of Molly in that moment was moving – or perhaps fatherhood is making me sentimental. I sidestepped the thought, adding, ‘There’s always Abigail…’

Nightingale gave me a look.

‘I’m joking,’ I said. ‘She’s legally too young to be employed by the Met, anyway.’

‘Joking aside,’ said Nightingale, ‘Abigail has, in fact, offered to help me with any technical queries I might have in your absence. I shan’t be offloading responsibility for the accounts, but I’m sure the moral support and coaching she’s offered will be invaluable.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s… good.’ I couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of suspicion, but then, it’s an occupational hazard, and a bad habit Beverley is trying to get me to shake. So I said nothing, and we moved on.

‘So, the pink one – that’s for photographs?’

One month later…

Movement. Something was shaking the bed. It was… confusing. While my sleep-fogged brain was cycling through questions like ‘is that an explosion?’ and ‘how big can earthquakes get in the UK?’ and ‘is the grab-bag ready?’, my consciousness eventually surfaced and I came to the realisation that the shaking was Beverley, next to me in bed.

I was very quickly awake.

‘Are you okay?’

She turned over, and I was relieved, and not a little confused, to realise that she was laughing – an honest-to-goodness full-body fit of hysterics.

‘Oh, Peter, I’m sorry!’ she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘It’s just… I’ve just fed her, and I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I was checking my feeds, and…’ she collapsed into laughter again, and thrust her phone screen in my face.

It was painfully bright in the darkness of the room, but once my eyes adjusted to the glare I could see…

I watched the TikTok video, then watched it again, but still couldn’t quite take in what I was seeing. ‘Is that…’

‘Yes!’

‘But what’s he…’

‘Some weird dance from the twenties, apparently,’ she said, wiping her eyes.

There were thousands of hits, and the counter was climbing as I watched.

‘He’s become a proper legend,’ said Bev. ‘Look how many followers he has. It’s boosting the Folly’s Twitter account, too, look…’

I looked, and it had. Considerably. I watched the video again, and sighed.

‘Remind me to have a discussion with Abigail tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Otherwise I’m going to wake up and think I’ve dreamt this.’

My last thought as I drifted back to sleep was to be impressed. When Nightingale says he’ll do something, he never gives it anything less than his all.

[comrade-meow]

This is a transcript of a speech by developmental biologist Dr Emma Hilton delivered on 29 November 2020 for the ‘Feminist Academics Talk Back!’ meeting. This talk was originally published by womentalkback.org

Sex denialists have captured existing journals We are dealing with a new religion

Thank you for the invitation to speak today, as a feminist academic fighting back.

As ever, let’s begin with a story. And, trust me, by the end of this talk, you’re going to know a lot more about creationism that you expected:

1. In the 1920s, in concert with many other American states, the Tennessee House of Representatives passed the Butler Act, making it illegal for state public schools to: “teach any theory that denies the Story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible.” In other words, banning schools from teaching the theory of evolution.

Three months later, Tennessee science teacher John Scopes was on trial, charged with teaching the theory of evolution, a crime he was ultimately found guilty of. He was fined £71 – about £1064 in today’s money – so it could have been an expensive affair for him, had he not got off on a really boring administrative technicality.

Yet, despite the evidence against him and his own confession, he was an innocent man. Scopes was not guilty of teaching the theory of evolution. He admitted to a crime he had not committed. He even coached his students in their testimonies against him. So why would he admit to this wrongdoing of which he was entirely innocent? Why would he contrive apparent guilt? In protest. In protest against a law he viewed as fundamentally incompatible with the pursuit of scientific truth.

2. The history of creationism and education laws in the US is turbulent and often opaquely legalese, especially for those of us unfamiliar with US law. Some of the methods of the wider creationist movement, however, will be immediately recognisable as they are employed by a new movement, one which seeks to erase another scientific truth, the fact of sex.

Method 1. The framing of human classifications, whether it’s species or sex, as “arbitrary”. This leads to the premise that such phenomena are “social constructs” that need not exist if we chose to reject them. That truth must be relative and consensual. Never mind that these “arbitrary” classifications appear to be surprisingly similar classifications across all cultures and civilisations.

It also necessarily spotlights tricky boundary cases – not really a personal problem for the long-dead evolutionary missing links, but a very real problem in the modern world for people whose sex is atypical and who are constantly invoked, even fetishized, as “not males” or “not females” to prove sex classification is somehow no more than human whimsy.

People with DSDs have complex and often traumatic medical histories, perhaps struggling to understand their bodies, and they deserve more respect than to be casually and thoughtlessly used as a postemodernist “gotcha” by the very people so horribly triggered by a pronoun.

Method 2. The distortion of science and the development of sciencey language to create a veneer of academic rigour. Creationists invented “irreducible complexity” and “specified complexity” while Sex denialists try to beat people over the head with their dazzling arrays of “bimodal distributions arranged in n-dimensional space”.

Creationists, unable to publish in mainstream science journals because they weren’t producing, well, science, established their own journals. “Journals”. Sex denialists have captured existing journals – albeit limited to more newsy ones and to occasional editorials and blogs about gender (which is not sex), about how developmental biology is soooo complicated (which does not mean sex is complicated – I mean, the internal combustion engine is complicated but cars still fundamentally go forwards or backwards), about how discussing the biology of sex is mean (OK, good luck with that at your doctor’s surgery). Many such blogs and articles are written by scientists who simultaneously deny sex to their social media audience while writing academic papers about how female fruitflies make shells for their eggs (no matter how queer they are), about the development of ovaries or testes in fish and about how males make sperm.

The current editor-in-chief at Nature, the first female to hold this position, studied sex determination in worms for her PhD, and she now presides over a journal with an editorial policy to insert disclaimers about the binary nature of sex into spotlight features about research on, for example, different death rates in male and female cystic fibrosis patients.

The authors of the studies are not prevaricating or handwaving about sex, but the editorial team is “bending the knee”. I used to research a genetic disorder that was male-lethal – that is, male human babies died early in gestation. I’d love to know if this disclaimer would be applied there.

Method 3. Debate strategies like The Gish Gallop. This method is named for Duane Gish, who is a prominent creationist. What it boils down to is: throw any old argument, regardless of its validity, in quick succession at your opponent and then claim any dismissal or missed response or even hesitation in response as a score for your side. In Twitter parlance, we know this as “sealioning”, in political propaganda as the “firehose of falsehood”, although Wikipedia also suggests that it is covered by the term “bullshit”. So, what about intersex people? what about this article? what about an XY person with a uterus? what about the fa’afafine? what about that article? look at this pretty picture. what about what about whataboutery what about clownfish? The aim is not to discuss or debate, it is to force submission from frustration or exhaustion.

Method 4. The reification of humans as separate from not just monkeys but the rest of the living world. The special pleading for special descriptions that frame humans as the chosen ones, such that the same process of making new individuals, common to humans and asparagus, an observation I chose because it seems superficially silly – it could have been spinach – requires its own description, one that accounts for gender identity.

3. In the Scopes trial, which saw discussion of whether Eve was actually created from Adam’s rib and ruminations on where Cain got his wife, Scopes was defended by a legal group who had begun scouting for a test case subject as soon as the Tennessee ban was enacted. This legal group claimed to advocate for:

“Freedom of speech for ideas from the most extreme left such as anarchists and socialists, to the most extreme right including the Ku Klux Klan, Henry Ford, and others who would now be considered more toward the Fascist end of the spectrum.”

The legal group so keen to defend the right to speak the truth, in this case a fundamental, observable scientific truth? The American Civil Liberties Union, a group whose modern day social media presence promotes nonsense like:

“The notion of biological sex was developed for the exclusive purpose of being weaponized against people.”

and

“Sex and gender are different words for the same thing [that is] a set of politically and socially contingent notions of embodied and expressed identity.”

and shares articles asserting that biological sex is rooted in white supremacy.

Since the Scopes case, the ACLU have fought against many US laws preventing, or at least compromising, the teaching of evolution. I cannot process the irony of a group of people historically and consistently prepared to robustly defend the truth of evolution while now denying one of the most important biological foundations of evolution.

4. How do we fight this current craze of sex denialism? A major blow for creationism teaching was delivered in 1986 while the US Supreme Court were considering a Louisiana state law requiring creationism to be taught alongside evolution. The Louisiana law was struck down, in part influenced by the expert opinions, submitted to the court, of scientists who put aside their individual and, as one of them has since described “often violent” differences on Theory X and Experiment Y, to present a unified defence of scientific truth over religious belief. 76 Nobel laureates, 17 state academies of science and a handful of scientific organisations all got behind this single cause, and made a very real change.

Support for creationism has slowly ebbed away and the US is in a much more sensible position these days, although I still meet the occasional student from a Southern state who didn’t learn about evolution until college.

Sadly, one of the Nobel laureates has highlighted how unusual this collective response was and that he could not imagine any other issue that would receive the same groundswell of community support. Although he forged his career listening out for the Big Bang, so maybe I need to go through the list and find the biologists.

Part of the problem petitioning biologists to speak out is not necessarily fear of being cancelled or whatever, but simple lack of awareness of the issue, or incredulity that it is being taken remotely seriously. I’ve been working on a legal document and was discussing with a colleague about my efforts to find a citation for the statement, “there are two sexes, male and female”. He laughed at the idea that this would require a citation, told me to check a textbook, then realised that this statement is so simple that it would not even be included in a textbook.

And he’s right. I can find chapters in textbooks and hundreds of academic papers dedicated to how males and females are made, how they develop, how they differ, yet very few that feel the need to preface any of this with the statement “There are two sexes, male and female”. It is apparently something that biologists do not think needs to be said.

But of course, I think they are wrong, and that we live in a time where it does need to be said, where some aspects of society are being restructured around a scientific untruth, and where females will suffer.

Without recognition of and language to describe our anatomy, and the experiences that stem from that anatomy, mostly uninvited, we can neither detect nor measure things like rates of violence against women, the medical experiences, the social experiences of women and girls.

And, as for creationism, the reality of sex perhaps needs to be said by those with scientific authority, in unambiguous terms. Otherwise, we are living in a society that tolerates nonsense like there is no such thing as male or female, that differences evident to our own eyes are not real, that anatomies readily observable and existing in monkey and man alike do not actually exist. I’m sure this last assertion has the full support of the creationist community. And perhaps, as for creationism, a true tipping point will be tested when it is our children being taught these scientific untruths, or worse, when it is illegal to say different.

5. At the end of his trial, the only words Scopes uttered in court were these:

“Your honor, I feel that I have been convicted of violating an unjust statute. I will continue in the future, as I have in the past, to oppose this law in any way I can. Any other action would be in violation of my ideal of academic freedom—that is, to teach the truth as guaranteed in our constitution, of personal and religious freedom.”

I do not exaggerate when I say we are dealing with a new type of religion, a new form of creationism and a new assault on scientific truth. I also do not exaggerate when I say it may take a high profile court case to rebalance the public discourse around sex. There is only so far letters and opinion articles can go.

Two things I predict: 1. It will not be defended by the ACLU, and 2. With the recent proposals on hate speech law, it will probably involve a Scottish John Scopes, who finds themself in front of a judge for the seditious crime of discussing the sex life of asparagus at their dinner table.

Dr Emma Hilton is a developmental biologist studying aspects of human genetic diseases, and her current research focuses on a congenital motor neurone disease affecting the genitourinary tract, and on respiratory dysfunction in cystic fibrosis. She teaches reproduction, genes, inheritance and genetic disorders. Emma has a special interest in fairness in female sports. A strong advocate for women and girls, Emma tweets as @FondofBeetles.

[realmadridfamily]

“I want everyone to know how brave a woman she is”

“It's true, we feel privileged - we have a good financial situation and I play for the most famous football club in the world and everyone knows me - but this doesn't change the most important thing: we are ordinary people. Like everyone else, we have better and worse days, difficult and beautiful moments, cares and joys. We are strong but also vulnerable. The fact that today we have three wonderful children is largely due to my wife Vanja. I want everyone to know how brave a woman she is. When I think about the situations she had to face, my field worries are meaningless.”

Ivano

"... before my second season in Tottenham Hotspur Vanja and I started talking about getting married. We've been together for almost five years - over four years of which we've lived together. We both wanted to get married and legalize our relationship. During such discussions, we also established one important thing - we both wanted to have a child, or at least three children! One day Vanja was waiting for me at our favorite Italian restaurant in London. I didn't even wonder why she wanted so badly to go there. When I got inside, I noticed that she was nervous, which was unusual for her. I took my seat and Vanja said why she invited me here: "You're going to be a daddy!" It's hard to describe this moment with words. It was one of the best messages I have ever received! My beloved Vanja wanted to convey this to me in a special way. Even though she was tired of morning sickness, she tried to make this moment special. At home, I didn't even notice what was happening to her! She hid everything from me to make sure she was really pregnant. We really wanted our children to be born in Croatia ..." "... we returned to Zagreb on May 9, right after the Premier League ended. Vanja was resting, and I still had to fulfill two obligations with the Croatia NT. From May 24, I was free again and was able to be with my wife. These days were very warm, so I had the idea to go to Zadar and visit my family. Unfortunately, the doctor didn't want her to travel before the birth, so after the conversation we decided that I would go to my parents and sister alone. On the second night in Zadar, I heard my father. It was after five in the morning. Vanja called me but I didn't hear the phone! "Son, wake up! Vanja is going to the hospital!" In one second I woke up and was on my way to Zagreb! I felt bad about not accompanying her that night. Fortunately, her mother lived nearby ..." "... when I spoke to her on the phone I was very close to the hospital. "Vanja, I'll be right there! Please, wait if you can!" But she couldn't. Our first baby was born at 8:10 am and changed our lives forever. The moment when I saw my son for the first time and took him in my arms was one of the happiest in my life. I hugged Vanja and we promised each other that when she got pregnant again, we would definitely be together during the birth - and we kept our word! But then it was our first time, and we had no idea what was waiting for us - besides, Vanja was going to have a caesarean section. We couldn't have anticipated that it would all start three weeks earlier. Vanja and the baby had to stay a few more days at the clinic. I wanted to be part of everything that happened from then on, so I spent a couple of nights with them. For the first four days, the nurses would come to me every morning and ask : "Do we already have a name?" We couldn't make up our minds. Vanja was most concerned with the name Ivano. So I agreed. "Ivano! My little boy and great love ..." "... after two weeks, we were able to go home. Our families were very happy and I was enjoying the days when everything in my life was beautiful and had its place. One day Vanja said that something was wrong, she didn't feel well. At first I thought it was nothing serious and advised her to rest in the bedroom. After a while we heard the sound of a fall. I quickly ran to the second floor. I was shocked to realize that my wife couldn't breathe! We quickly took her to the hospital. Vanja felt a pain in her chest. The doctor admitted that he suspected a blood clot in the lungs and took care of it immediately. I calmed down a bit, but none of us could sleep that night. The blood clot was caused by the body's reaction to pregnancy. The situation was serious, but luckily everything ended well. How badly Vanja was, was evidenced by the fact that the next morning she forgot that she had a son! For the next month, I took her to the hospital every day, and she continued to take anticoagulants for another year and a half. Unfortunately, it wasn't over ..." "... a year has passed since the birth of Ivano. Vanja had migraines, and sometimes she had the feeling that the left side of her face was going numb. But she thought it would pass. One day in 2011, she told me concerned that she had stopped hearing in her left ear. She went for an MRI and there she was diagnosed with a tumor in her ear. At first, we were terrified, but the doctors explained that this was a problem to be solved. In the end, it was decided that gamma knife treatment would be the best option - but it turned out to wait ..."

Ema

"... we packed our own things that had to be taken to Madrid. Vanja took care of this in her second pregnancy. All the problems during the transfer negotiations, moving, adapting to work at Real Madrid and living in Madrid - all of these things we faced during her second pregnancy. I'm not sure Vanja wanted me to carry all these things myself. She didn't feel comfortable with being felt for her health problems ..." "... as you know, after Ivano was born, Vanja suffered a pulmonary embolism, so we were all very worried about her when she was in her second pregnancy. We moved to Madrid, where she was under constant medical supervision and took regular anticoagulant medicine ..." "... the day before the due date of delivery, we played in Dortmund. Coach Mourinho gave me a day off so I flew to Zagreb right after the match. The birth of our daughter was the second of our most beautiful experiences. Everything was fine and we dealt with the name quickly. We both liked short names, so Vanja made her decision - Ema! After a wonderful son, a beautiful daughter was born. The next day I had to go back to Madrid. I had my phone with me all the time! I was able to look at Ema every day until they joined me in the Spanish capital ..." "... in early 2014, my wife decided to fly to London for surgery. She was accompanied by her mother and cousin, because unfortunately I couldn't. It was terribly hard for me to concentrate on football, but I didn't want to talk about my problems. Our fight was our private fight. I didn't want to tell my wife anything because I knew that it’s difficult for her and she tries to hide her fear from me. I had to be strong for her and the kids. We faced everything with a positive attitude ..." "... after returning from London, Vanja had to stick to a special order of the day. I helped her in everything I could. The symptoms went away, which was a good sign. After six months of waiting, she went for her first checkup. The study showed that the tumor began to shrink - today it is four times smaller than it was when it was discovered. Vanja visits the doctor regularly and she feels very well ..."

Sofia

"... after several years of full stabilization, we enjoyed our happiness with Ivano and Ema and the successful stage of my career. And then Vanja, in a moment of weakness, told me something that I believe had been on her mind for a long time: "Luka, I wish we had a third child!" She was fine and after Ema was born she had no complaints, but I didn't even want to hear about it at first. She always said she wanted three children. I had a similar dream: three or four children in a big and happy family. This, however, was before the new circumstances emerged. Vanja had risked her life twice already, and I didn't want this to happen again. She consulted doctors in London about the possible awakening of the tumor as a reaction to the pregnancy. They told her the chances were half and half. She also spoke to doctors in Zagreb, asked them how high the risk of a new blood clot was, but they only told her that despite the appropriate treatment, the risk was always there and only she could make the right decision. So in the end we heard what we already knew - that it could be okay, but it could also end very badly ..." "... but Vanja was determined, and I realized it when she confessed : "You know what, you give it the best in football and I'll give it the maximum for the family!" And so on October 2, 2017 Sofia was born! I came to the hospital in Zagreb from Rijeka, I was present at her birth and everything went well - both Vanja and our second princess felt great ..." "... but a year later, a new nerve arose in Madrid. Vanja was at home and at one point she noticed that her hand went numb and turned a dark blue color. She already knew it was a clot effect because she had learned to recognize the symptoms. She kept a cool head and called the doctor who lived in the neighborhood with whom she had a very good relations. The doctor confirmed her suspicions and immediately took her to the hospital. After all possible tests and studies, they concluded that Vanja should take adequate injections throughout her life ...” "... my wife's resolve in fighting for dreams of three children, despite the risks involved, showed her strength. She recently told me that her gynecologist, after Sofia was born, said: "Vanja, such courage is rare today. If I were you, I would not have decided to have a third child. You are really amazing!" The mother's gust of heart was stronger than anything else. I faced all these crisis situations and nerves, but I was not allowed to show weakness when she was so strong and brave. Thanks to her, today we feel happy and blessed with a wonderful family ..."

(source of quotes - Book “Luka Modric - My Game”)

[darkarfs]

single moments from the Trump presidency that would have defined/ended any other politician’s career

- saying he could “buy Greenland” - suggesting it was a good idea to nuke hurricanes - saying there would be fewer forest fires if we just got rid of all the leaves - asking Trudeau if Canada had tried to burn down the White House - autographing pictures of shooting victims - when he kept talking about how they drop bowling balls on cars to test them in japan and no one could figure out where he could have even gotten the idea - when he suggested Seoul should just move away from the North Korean border - introducing West Virginia’s governor as ‘the largest, most beautiful man’ - when he tweeted SEE YOU IN COURT! right after an appeals court ruled against him. like. yeah man. they just did. - the time he didn't know how to close an umbrella so he just dropped it and walked away - fighting with the Vietnam vets over whether napalm or agent orange is used in the Ride of the Valkyries scene in Apocalypse Now and then when they insisted it was napalm, Trump said they disagreed with him because they didn't like the movie (The line is famously, literally “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”) - using his position as the single most powerful person in the world to promote Goya canned beans - when he bragged about the crowd size at the hurricane shelter in coastal Texas (”what a turnout”) - signing Bibles. What. - thinking the F-22 is invisible to the naked eye - smiling and giving a thumbs up during a photo op with a baby orphaned by a mass shooting - putting a candy bar on a Minion’s head because he’s never interacted with a child before -  when he interpreted some stray comment about transparency in the process to mean his border wall should literally be transparent, so passersby are not beaned by bundles of drugs and cans being thrown over the wall - the time he talked about having to flush his massive dumps 10 times and then immediately tried to blame the dumps on his supporters - the fake Sharpee’d hurricane map, which he did solely to not appear wrong on television - suggesting that federal employees working unpaid during the gov shutdown should just “do a work around” at the grocery store if they can’t pay for groceries - the fucking eclipse thing - the fucking three-pointers with paper towels to Puerto Rican hurricane victims - when he told thousands of Boy Scouts a story about his rich friend's fuckboat and then complained about Hilary for the remainder of the speech - when the called the CEO of Lockheed Martin “Marilyn Lockheed” (her last name is Hewson) which was objectively funnier than “Tim Apple” - when he picked an argument with Baltic world leaders because he thought the Baltics were the Balkans - the first time his team had a meeting in the cabinet room they couldn’t figure out how to turn on the lights and ended up just having the meeting in the dark -  The time he said Andrew Jackson was "really angry that he saw what was happening with regard to the Civil War, he said 'There's no reason for this.'" (Jackson died 16 years before the Civil War, and he owned 150 slaves.) - told a 7-year-old boy there was no Santa Claus on Christmas - the team of staffers whose only job was to tape back together documents he had torn up because he’s just THAT used to destroying evidence, because they couldn’t get him to stop ripping them up, but legally, the documents had to be archived - when he said the Continental Army took over the British airports during the Revolution - no sanctions on Russian soldiers killing American soldiers - “I take no responsibility for this pandemic.” - when touring the damage the Louisiana gulf coast after Hurricane Laura (just a few months ago!), he started giving first responders autographed pieces of paper, which he told them to sell on eBay for $10,000 - when he thought "clean coal" meant that the miners dug it out of the ground and physically cleaned it - the goddamn fast food catering - trying to trick the family of a teen killed by a US diplomat's wife who fled justice into meeting her, Ellen-style - pushing the Prime Minister of Montenegro out of the way to preen - that time he called into Fox & Friends and ranted for so long that they politely but firmly kicked him off - hiring an Obama impersonator solely to berate him - having a button installed on his desk that let him order Diet Coke on a whim. And sometimes using that button upwards of 13 times a day. - that time when a kid handed him a hat to sign, and he signed the hat, but instead of handing it back, he just threw it into the middle of the crowd - autographing the guestbook at the Holocaust memorial, with an added “had such a great time!” - when he zoned out and wondered where a woman's dead relatives were DIRECTLY after she had said her mother six brothers were killed. (Actual exchange: “They killed my mother, my six brothers...” “Where are they now?”) - sending 2,000 soldiers to the border to stop “the caravan,” having their pictures taken, and then recalling them all. - consoling a dead soldier’s family by saying “he knew what he was getting into.” - when he said no one could climb over the border wall because there would be no way down, and then belatedly remembered rope - when he congratulated the Great Lakes on their "record deepness" - calling Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas” at an event meant to honor Navajo code talkers  - “Shithole countries” - calling Baltimore “rat-infested” - tweeting “too bad!” right after Elijah Cummings’ house was broken into - calling the White House “a dump” a month into moving in, which led to first both him and Melania, and then just Melania by herself, staying in Trump Tower for almost 5 months, costing taxpayers around $100,000 a day - an entire quarter of his presidency spent on his own golf courses, costing taxpayers around $141,000,000, NOT counting the Secret Service detail (they were charged for rooms and golf carts, since these were Trump’s OWN golf courses) - using “Pocahontas” again to slur Elizabeth Warren while talking down to a Native American journalist - holding a rally in Pittsburgh and trying to woo the locals by ranting about how the statue of Joe Paterno, the accused pedophilia enabler who was coach of a rival sports team, should go back up - confusingly having bigger salt and pepper shakers than everyone else in his administration, because everything to him is a dick-measuring contest - when he said he would “run in and take care of” school shooters, to school shooting victims - appointing fucking DeVos, Miller, Pompeo, Mnuchin, Nunes - inciting a seditious white supremacist mob to make sure he’s president until he’s 85, resulting in 5 dead (for which I am constantly wondering...”really? FOR THIS GUY?”) - drafted a proposal to open 94% of previously protected American shorelines to offshore drilling - when he walked up the stairs to Air Force One with toilet paper stuck to his shoe -  at least 44 times in March, April and early May in which he downplayed the threat of the virus calling it “very well under control” again and again - when somebody asked him his favorite book and he pointed at a bookshelf and said “there are some over there” - meeting with the goddamn MyPillow guy to discuss overturning election results and declaring martial law - impeached twice, was golfing both times the vote went through - 70 pardons for known criminals (including Bannon), 70 sentences commuted, just to be a spiteful little toad - when he blathered on about how much he loved the queen, the totally hacked her off - when Hope Hicks steamed his pants as he was wearing them - getting mad-pissed at White House kitchen staff because they couldn’t recreate McDonald’s and it was too late to order  and I wonder how much I missed. I bet there’s a McSweeney’s article listing all of it.

[winterscaptain]

transfer request. part three.

read part one here and part two here

a/n: this one contains smut because im insufferable so if you’re not 18+, i love you but you gotta stick to part one :) i’m so happy i got the muse for another part to this. i have a request or two in my inbox that i’m working on, but feel free to drop some more!

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

Y/N’s nerves settle as Aaron steps out of the assistant director’s office, closes the door behind him, and flashes her a soothing smile. He offers YN a hand. She takes it and rise, ready for her portion of the evaluation. 

“I’m going to get Jack from school, and we’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” 

She hums, and squeezes his hand. Her heart’s been racing all morning, and she’s barely been able to focus on the consults piling up on her desk. Didn’t people have better things to do than hurt women in their free time?

Sensing her anxiety, Aaron leans close to her ear and she suppresses a shiver. “I warmed them up for you. You’ll be great.”  He presses a quick, casual kiss to her temple. “It’s just a formality – they know everything they need to.” 

He releases her as their interim section chief opens the door. So much had happened in the four months between the transfer request and the hearing to address it. The most extreme of which were the death of Erin Strauss and their recent move to the newly-purchased house on the river between Quantico and D.C. It had been hectic, but they were happy to finally know whether Y/N would stay with their work family or not. 

When she steps in and sits down, the assistant director looks friendly, albeit tired. 

“Good afternoon, Agent.” The director flips a page on his legal pad, and she catches Aaron’s name among his notes. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon, Chief Leon.” She acknowledges both men with a smile. The interim chief is new to Quantico, but comes well-recommended. 

“Thank you so much for coming in with your consult list so long. It is appreciated.” 

Not that I had a choice. “No problem, sir. I’m excited to get things settled after...everything.” 

“That makes two of us,” Chief Leon says. “Your fortitude and professionalism does not go unnoticed, and I’ve appreciated your welcome as I’ve settled into the interim role.” 

She’s not sure, but it sounds like he put a little too much emphasis on interim. Letting it go, she reminds herself that she’s not here to profile but rather to discuss a rapidly-approaching marriage to one Agent Aaron Hotchner. “I’m so glad, sir. I think I can speak for the team when I say the BAU is proud to be under your leadership, no matter how temporary or permanent.” 

The assistant director finally finds his footing in his notes and looks up. “Alright, to the situation at hand. How long have you been in a relationship with Agent Hotchner?” 

Over breakfast that morning, she and Aaron had bounced their answers off each other, just to make sure everything was lined up for the bureaucratic nightmare that was a formal hearing. “Just over two years, now.” 

“Did you disclose your relationship at the time of its inception?” 

“No, sir.” It hurt to admit the flagrant policy violation, but it seemed reasonable at the time. 

“You are aware that this is not bureau policy, especially seeing as Agent Hotchner is your unit chief.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

There’s a pause, and the two men look at each other. Interim Chief Leon takes over. “Because we have evidence that your conduct in the field remained unaffected, we have decided to overlook that policy violation. Your team has also advocated for you – Agent Morgan specifically remarking on your,” he checks his notes, “admirable dedication to the team and the support you offer to your unit and unit chief in high-intensity field operations. Agent Jareau spoke of your compassion and patience with the families of victims, and Dr. Reid emphasized the importance of your skillset with children and adolescent psychology. Agent Prentiss also complimented your cohesive work style and support of your unit chief, even in disagreements. Your team is very loyal, and you should be very proud.”

“Thank you, sir.” The tone and company in the room require short and simple answers, but she so wants to defend her decision to maintain the privacy of their relationship. She laces her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. 

“I am continually impressed with the results of the BAU’s fieldwork, and desire to disrupt the team as little as possible so you may continue your high-performance in the field.” The assistant director’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You are to remain on assignment with the BAU until the re-evaluation of your contract in...” He checks the copy of your contract underneath his legal pad. “three years and four months.” 

Remain on assignment? “Thank you, sir.”

Everyone stands, then, and she shakes hands with both men before leaving the assistant director’s office. 

If I’m staying, and Aaron didn’t say anything about leaving, then who’s flying the plane? 

+++

When she steps into the house, she can hear Aaron and Jack playing video games in the playroom. The sun had yet to set, and she revels in the rare opportunity to share daylight with her family. 

Y/N leans against the doorframe as Jack continues to slaughter Aaron in Mario Kart. They’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding the same posture right down to the slight tilt of their heads to the left. 

They still don’t notice her after about ten minutes, so she flops down and stretches her torso across Aaron’s lap so her head falls into Jack’s. Jack’s little hands immediately fall into her hair, fingers tangling in whatever he can find.

Aaron lets the controller drop to the floor and stretches his hands to cover a broad swath of her abdomen. His fingers reach from her hip to just under the underwire of her bra.  

“What kind of trouble are you getting up to in here?” 

Jack giggles and she smiles up at him. He’s upside down from this angle, but he’s still the cutest boy in the world. 

“Daddy sucks at Mario Kart.”

Aaron’s hair flops into his eyes as he releases her and reaches over you to tickle Jack. “Hey!” 

Y/N laughs and rolls over onto the floor, snatching Jack away from his father by the waist. “C’mon Jack! Run!” 

Jack grabs her hands and they run down the hallway, Aaron hot on their heels. Both she and Jack are crying with laughter at this point, and she stumbles as they turn into the living room, slipping on the hardwood in her socks. 

Aaron takes advantage of her momentary weakness and pounces, caging her in his arms as he tackles her to the couch. Jack jumps on the both of them, and they rest there for a moment, Aaron half on-top of her with her head pillowed on his arm and Jack clinging to Aaron’s back. 

The huge couch was a good investment. 

“Hey, Y/N, wanna know something cool?” Jack’s little head tips up and she brushes some caramel hair out of his eyes. It seems to get darker by the day. He needs a haircut. “Always! You know how much I love cool stuff.” 

“Dad said he got a new job and that he doesn’t have to go away so much and he’ll pick me up from Aunt Jessica’s every night before dinner.” 

She raises her eyebrows and brings a hand to Aaron’s hair. His head is burrowed in her shoulder, absolutely hiding from her prying gaze. “Oh?” 

“He also said he and Uncle Dave would help coach my soccer team and I said you can do that now because you have a ring like the other moms.” 

That draws a smile from her, and she pulls both of her Hotchner boys close, squeezing them and kissing their heads. “Let’s get dinner on, my loves.” 

+++

When Aaron tucks Jack into bed that night, she hangs back at the door. There is nothing quite like watching Aaron with Jack. They’re like different-sized versions of the same person, though there is a good deal of Haley in him. His smile, especially – wide and friendly – reminds Y/N of her often. The framed photos around the house are the strongest recollections of her. Y/N's favorite sits on the mantle with a dried rose from the funeral. It was the first thing she and Aaron unpacked, and Aaron spent many minutes standing before it, barefoot, with her tucked under his arm. 

“Do you think she would be happy?” Y/N had asked. 

He nodded, wordlessly. “She told me she was when I coded in surgery last year.”

She looked up at him, swallowing thickly when she remembered how close they were to losing him. 

Aaron snorted, changing the tone. “She also told me I’d be a fool and an idiot to let you go. She wasn’t surprised when I told her I already knew that.” He adopts her countenance for a moment, imitating her. “Well of course you know, Aaron. Knowing and doing are two very different things.” 

Y/N greets that picture every time she walks into the house. Haley, Jack, and Aaron from a decade ago smile back at her. It was their first picture taken as a family: Jack was barely three months old. The newest family photo sits beside it, Y/N’s eight-week (and most recent) ultrasound photo stuck haphazardly into the frame. 

As Aaron leans up, she crosses to Jack’s bedside and kneels. The boy reaches for her, and she gathers him into a hug. “How much do I love you, my Jack?” 

“More than the whole world,” he says, rote. She had shared that exchange with him long before she and Aaron started seeing each other, and they found it silly to stop now. 

She breathes him in, kissing his temple and tucking him back in. 

When she and Aaron finally rise and turn the light off, Jack is nearly asleep. 

Safe within the confines of the bedroom they share, she raises her eyebrows at Aaron as she removes her shirt to change into pajamas. His eyes catch on her lace-clad chest and she takes the opportunity to change the subject. “New job?” 

He huffs and flops on the bed, his shirt only half-unbuttoned, belt in-hand and slacks unzipped. “I didn’t expect him to spring that on you.” 

She sits on the opposite edge of the bed and slips her pants off, leaving her only in your matching “I’m going into a scary meeting” set of underwear. Today may have been the last day she could wear them for a while. She leans back, landing next to him and carding her fingers through his hair.

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“They offered me the section chief position,” he mumbles into the comforter. 

“Aaron! That’s huge!” She shoves at his shoulder and he groans, rolling on his side. She’s almost distracted by the adoring, soft look in his eyes. “Are you going to take it?” 

“I asked for the week to decide, but it was just a formality. It’s time, I think, to be home with Jack more.” He reaches up, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And I wanted to keep you on the team.” 

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. 

“The pay increase certainly doesn’t hurt, either,” he adds with a laugh. 

She makes herself busy with the remaining buttons on his shirt, and ruck up the tails from his slacks. “Do you get to keep your office? Who’s the new unit chief?” 

He laughs again. So many questions. “No, Emily gets my office as the new unit chief under my recommendation. But I get to keep the furniture.” 

“Emily?!” Her rapid blush overrides the excitement for her friend. A smirk crosses her face. Aaron’s mirrors yours, and they’re both thinking of one particular late night on the desk a few weeks ago. “That’s good at least. I’d like to be able to sit at her desk and look her in the eye at the same time.” He kisses her soundly. “That would be useful.” 

She reaches for him and wiggles into the middle of the bed. “I’ll miss you.” She grins against his mouth. “I’ll miss you in that vest, too.” 

He rises fully then, removing the rest of his clothes. She lifts her arms above her head, reaching for him across the bed, looking at him upside-down. He roughly grabs her wrists and firmly tugs her closer to him. 

She finds herself quickly surrounded by him, not an inch of her skin left untouched by kisses and caresses. 

+++

When he’s finally inside her, and they breathe and kiss and laugh together, they can finally relax. She’s home, he’s home. The life they share together will be one marked with joy, with patience, with understanding. 

“I love you,” she says with a gasp as he pushes deep into her, her back arching under him. 

“There aren’t words, my love. None.” 

He pushes her to your climax with a thumb on her clit, buried deep within her. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder. He follows quickly with a few sloppy thrusts. He doesn’t move even after a few minutes, still completely blissed-out, and she laughs.  

She kisses his sweaty forehead, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “So do I get to call you Chief Hotchner when I’m mad at you now?” 

He laughs, but it’s cut short by his groan and her hitch in breath when he finally pulls out of her. He takes a moment to recover, pressing his forehead to her chest. “I think,” he says after a moment, “you can stick to Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Benjamin Hotchner, Juris Doctorate for occasions like those.”

At her giggle, he continues. 

“While a mouthful, it’s quite effective at getting my attention.” 

“I’m so glad to hear that. I would hate to know I’m losing my touch.”

They tuck themselves neatly under the covers, not bothering to clean up. It’s laundry day tomorrow, after all. When she curls against his chest, he covers her hand where it rests over his heart. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrry-ixn @ange-must-die

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 6

Series Masterlist

A/N: I know some airplanes actually have the option for first class “pods.” I have no idea what these look like but I read an article/interview Kaitlyn Bristowe did years ago after her and Shawn first got engaged and she said they had sex in one of these pods during a night flight. 

Summary: You head to Denmark with Fred for a vacation and meet his family when something happens.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Public sex, Mile High Club, some cuteness, mentions of death and drunk driving (don’t be stupid folks), probably some swearing

Word Count: 2,621

July 25, 2021

You agreed to the trip to Denmark with Fred. Family is important and they will be half of your sons family. It will be good for you to know the people your son will be related to, you just hope it isn’t too awkward or that they don’t ask too many questions about your relationship with Freddie. You decided on 8 days, the first and last essentially were travel days and adjusting to the time change. You were going to spend a few days in Copenhagen doing sightseeing, with 3 nights in Herning visiting his family. Fred flew into Denmark with you but since he was staying longer you would be flying back solo.

You tried to book your own ticket in coach, but he argues that since you were only going because he asked he should pay for the flights and hotel. You tried protesting it, but eventually agreed but told him you’d be fine to just share 1 room if he was, it was likely that you would be spending your nights together anyways might as well save him some money, even though he likely didn’t care.

He opted for first class seats, you figured for the leg room but the seats actually had the option to convert to beds. You and Fred convert to beds and you lie down with a blanket over you both, Fred wraps an arm around you and place his hand on your stomach. You lie there watching step brothers as his hands stroke your stomach. You expect one or both of you to fall asleep at some point during the movie. Half way through you feel his hand slip lower to the elastic of your yoga pants. His hand slips under and rests on your lace underwear. He moves forward so you feel him pressed against you “can you be quiet skat?” you nod, a soft yes slipping from your mouth. 

His fingers slide into you and begin to do wonders. A soft moan leaves your lips and he nips your ear “you need to be quiet" as he slams his fingers in harder and deeper. You feel his member harden against your ass as you grind back into him. He uses his other hand to bring your pants down slightly to expose your ass. He then pulls his sweats and boxers down. You reach back with one arm and give him a few strokes before he grabs your hand and pins it down in front of you. He shifts you to bring your knees toward your chest and he shifts down, sliding his hard cock in you. You look around the only passenger who could see you is asleep, but you adjust the blanket to ensure you are fully covered in case someone walks by.

He is thrusting in slowly but forcefully. Bottoming out each time, you bite your lip to suppress your moans. He is rubbing your clit, you know neither of you will last long. The thrill of sex in public, possibly getting caught. He continues his pace, and the hard thrusts have you seeing stars. You clench as your orgasm crashes over you, feeling his warmth fill you shortly after. He pulls out and returns your pants to their position as you begin to doze off for the rest of the flight. 

The first few days you spend touring Copenhagen and some other cities. Fred shows you some of his favourite spots, takes you to restaurants always refusing to let you pay claiming you are his guest. You even found a market and did some shopping for yourself and the baby; once again you aren’t allowed to pay.  

Now it’s time to go to Herning. As you zip your suitcase nerves come over you. This was the whole reason for the trip to meet his family but what if they don’t like you? Fred sees the wheels turning in your head, he comes up behind and he wraps his arms around you placing his large hands on your stomach, this always calms you down “stop worrying everything will be fine" you nod against him as he let’s go grabbing your suitcase. When you arrive to the hotel, you were expecting a normal hotel room with a bed, dresser and maybe a small table. You realize Freddie booked you guys a suite, with a full living room, and a separate bedroom with an over sized king bed.

Tonight is a dinner with his parents and siblings, you start getting ready a few hours in advance. Trying to take the nerves off by looking perfect; telling yourself by looking perfect they will like you more. You take a long shower listening to your favourite playlist, exfoliating every inch of yourself. When you get out you wrap your hair in a towel as you begin to do your make-up keeping it light and simple. You blow dry your hair and style it with some loose curls. Now it’s time to get dressed, you look through every item in your suitcase trying to figure out what outfit best represents “I’m the girl having a baby with your son. I’m not his wife or girlfriend, and I got pregnant after one night with him. Please like me.” You quickly realize you did not pack any outfits that say this, what was going through your mind before you left Toronto.

Fred walks into the bedroom and see’s you standing there wrapped in your towel staring at your clothes. “Doesn’t matter what you wear, you know that. We have to leave in 10 minutes or we’ll be late. That will influence their opinion of you for sure.” You laugh finally deciding on some jeans with a pink tank top and a flowy floral knee length cardigan, you pair it with some brown open toe boots. As you finish zipping them up Fred walks over “see? beautiful” he says before reaching around you to open the door.

You walk in to his parent’s house behind Fred as he greets his family. As you wait for dinner they ask basic questions, where are you from what do you do? His dad remains pretty quiet.

Dinner is served and the conversation shifts into some harder questions:

Do you guys have a name picked out? Is the child going to be raised with a religious background? Where is it going to live with you or Fred? You either answer “no or I don’t know” to these then IT comes: What if Fred doesn’t sign in Toronto how will you make it work? 

You have been dreading this, you knew this would come but still you’re uneasy neither of you have answers to any of these. Fred finally chimes in “I guess we have some things to figure out, but we will sort it out"  

You agreed somewhat, yes you could figure out a name and religion wasn’t that important to you. But what if he left Toronto, rumours are he will be. 

Charlotte “You haven’t had discussions on the future? Fred’s career can be unpredictable, some things you can figure out as you go but of this baby is due in November. With you in Toronto and Fred potentially in a different country how does that work? How does he see his son and have a relationship during the season?” 

“I guess I never gave much thought to Fred leaving” you lie. “But if that’s what he has to do because he thinks it’s best for his career I’ll support that decision. We’d figure something out, we’d have to" Fred squeezes your leg lightly with a soft smile. You take a deep breath before continuing “my parents died when I was young so I know the impact growing up without parents can have on a child. I don’t want my child to feel that way.” Everyone stares at you, but your eyes go to Fred as he looks softly at you but you can see through his facade to the shock.

That night you return to the hotel and get ready for bed. He pulls you in to his chest rubbing your shoulders “we’ll be fine dear, we’ll be fine" you nod and move away crawling in to bed. You roll onto your right side, facing away from Fred when you hear him softly say “I’m sorry about your parents.”

You roll onto your back saying “it was almost 20 years ago.”

He throws an arm over you “doesn’t make it better, or mean I’m not sorry because it was a while ago. You lost your parents.” You turn to face him as he pulls you closer, brushing some loose curls from your face.

“I know, sorry. I guess I have gotten use to deflecting when talking about it.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you don’t even have to talk about this. If you want to I am here though”  he says looking into your eyes. Silence fills the air.

A few moments pass before you finally say “I was 12, they went to dinner in downtown Toronto. My grandparents were in town for a visit, they used to come for a few weeks in the summer and they were spending the night with me. They were on the drive back, 7 blocks from home and went to make a left hand turn. A car barrelled through the red light into the driver’s side. My dad was killed instantly, my mom was taken from the car to the hospital. She underwent emergency surgery and she shockingly survived the surgery, but the trauma was too much and she died in the ICU 12 hours later. Turns out the driver was drunk, more than twice the legal limit.” You have told this story so many times it’s almost robotic, but this time it’s different. You don’t know if it’s Fred’s soft brown eyes staring into yours or if it’s the pregnancy hormones but you feel so many emotions  as tears fill your eyes and slowly fall onto your cheeks.

“I am so sorry (Y/N). You shouldn’t have had to go through that” he says wiping the tears from your face.  It must be the pregnancy hormones because you begin to sob uncontrollably, you haven’t cried like this over your parents in years. He pulls you in tight stroking your head until your cries steady and you fall asleep.

You wake up and today is the annual Andersen Uno tournament with the cousins and a big barbecue. Two of his aunts smother you almost instantly.  

“Yeah mushrooms it’s her thing.” Fred says “I made sure there was enough mushroom dishes for a small village today” you both laugh. 

“So has the baby been moving lots?” 

“No not yet which I find a little strange. My doctor said it can take up to 25 weeks. I’m at about 22, but I’m going to bring it up at the next appointment.” They both nod “my first was close to 25 weeks too” one says.

The Uno tournament with about 15 players and 5 decks begins. It’s a little challenging with some of his cousins speaking little to no English, and you knowing even less Danish but fun none the less. You sit with one card left in your hand and Fred beside you when he puts down a pick up 4. “No! I was so close!” you shout as he laughs. A few turns later his cousin ends up winning.   

Later in the night people are scattered around the yard when you feel something in your stomach causing you to jump slightly. You look around for Fred spotting him by the food table talking with his mom. You practically run to him. 

“Fred! Fred!” he looks up at you startled, fear reaching his face. 

“Give me your hand" you grab it and place it on your stomach “give it a minute." 

Then he feels it, a smile instantly spreading across his face “is that? Did he just?” 

‘Yeah he’s kicking! He’s finally kicking!” you exclaim. Fred takes his other hand placing it on your stomach. “He’s kicking” Fred says softly looking into your eyes.  

Without thinking you lean up, connecting your lips with his. It starts soft until he leans into it; you wrap your fingers in his hair. Its very passionate, as his hands move to the small of your back pulling you in closer to him. After a minute you separate from each other with your foreheads touching. Fred smiles at you as you feel his families’ eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. The rest of the night you spend around the fire, cuddled up on Fred’s lap with a blanket draped over you. Fred has his hand on your stomach waiting for your son to kick again. 

People begin to dwindle as Fred’s hand begins to dip slightly lower. You adjust in your seat leaning into him more. He kisses your hair and whispers “want to get out of here?” you nod in agreement. 

As you return to the hotel, you feel his hands interlace with yours as you wait in the elevator, resting your head on his shoulders. He unlocks the hotel room door, as you walk in he spins you around. His hands lightly graze your sides as he leans down capturing you in a soft kiss. You reach up tangling your hands in his hair, he slowly pushes you into the bedroom and over to the bed. Your knees hit the bed and he slowly leans you back onto it, pulling your shirt off in the process.  

“So beautiful” he mumbles leaning down and attaching his mouth to your neck while undoing your bra. You slide your hands under his shirt and pull it over his head. His hand shift to your thighs sliding up, gently pushing your shorts up as your back arches, and you feel wetness beginning to pool at your core. His mouth is making work of your neck and chest as he undoes your shorts and pulls your underwear down with it. You manage to bring your hands around to his front and undo his shorts as he steps out of them. 

He slowly leans down and places soft gentle kisses on your stomach before moving to your thigh inching towards where you need him most. You moan out causing him to slide his mouth onto your folds, he gently licks you for a few minutes before pulling away. You feel him stroke his cock across your entrance a few times, coating himself in your juices.

He begins a slow pace, gently thrusting in to you, bottoming out each time never breaking eye contact. You wrap your legs around his back as he continues his slow pace. You feel a sensation in your stomach as your orgasm approaches. Your hips buck up and Fred notices as a smirk creeps across his face. You shudder as you clench around him. He keeps up his pace before pulling you to sit in his lap, he gently thrusts up into you as you begin rocking your hips. You lay your head on his shoulder as he continues to thrust slowly up into you. You feel his dick twitch as he spills deep inside you.  He collapses on you turning so you are laying on your side, him still inside of you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead “smuk kærlighed” he whispers stroking your hair. 

Freddie has fucked you many times before but this felt different. He looked at you differently, he kissed you differently, touched you differently. And what did he say? Soon his hand is stroking your hair and his soft kisses cause your mind to turn off as you drift to sleep.  

Next Chapter

[fenrys-moonbeam-lochan]

Our Dear Friend

Summary: Doctor Hafiza waits for someone to come and pick up Fenrys Moonbeam, dreading where the day will go. It turns out better than she expected.

Ao3

Part of my ToG Comfortember 2020 fics. 

xxx

There were times when being a doctor was a wonderful thing and there were times it left a heavy feeling in your soul. Hafiza wondered which one this would be.

Doctor Hafiza had been at Torre Cesme hospital since she was an intern. Now as chief of surgery for twenty years and near retirement, she had seen it all. Death, life, cancer, fractures, crying families, celebrating families, rare disorders, infections, even a pandemic. Everything had passed in front of her eyes.

Still, the sight of the young man on the bed was sending a twisted feeling through her gut.

She wasn't even supposed to be here today but the storm outside had derailed many of their doctors, leaving them short-staffed. After putting in the necessary calls as Chief, she had decided to step into the ER and help where she could.

That was how she had ended up with Fenrys Moonbeam's chart in her hands, an Olympic swimmer.

There was nothing outwardly wrong with the man. He had collapsed at the gym and emergency services had been alerted by the establishment. He didn't have any injuries internal or external that could have caused the fall.

However, after some conversation, the reason for it had become obvious.

It was exhaustion. Physical and emotional exhaustion. From what he had told them and their consulting physiatrist, Fenrys had been working himself non-stop, most likely skipping proper meals to work-out. The lack of proper meals wasn't obvious and wouldn't cause this much trouble if he was an average person. However, for an Olympic level athlete, it was dangerous. The worst part, he didn't seem to see anything wrong with it, describing his schedule as if it was normal.

The man needed help and Hafiza wasn't sure if it was going to happen. Legally they couldn't keep him and Fenrys made no indication that he would take their advice in resting and taking care of himself. In a scenario like this, the best bet was pleading to the person's emotional side by revealing their issue, with their permission ofcourse, to their family and friends. Except, the man was under the direct care of Maeve, his coach, a woman who had a well-known reputation for being a hardass. Not to mention, the rumours of emotional abuse that had flared up a while ago before being viciously squashed.

The only hope Hafiza could see was that since it was the offseason, Fenrys's emergency contacts were two other swimmers, his twin brother and Lorcan Salvaterre. But still, Hafiza had been mentored by a doctor who had spent a lot of their time with athletes. Knowing their mentality, she didn't know if they would understand the severity of the situation. Or if Fenrys would even let her tell them.

She was shaken out of her thoughts as a nurse came up to her.

"They're here for Fenrys Moonbeam," he said gesturing behind him, "They all insisted on coming in,"

Hafiza looked up to see five men coming toward her. She recognized Connall Moonbeam and the silver-haired Rowan Whitethorn but she had no idea who the rest of them were. Probably athletes too. They were certainly built like swimmers.

"Thank you," she told the nurse, "I'll take care of them,"

"Are you his doctor? Where is he? Is everything okay with him?" rushed out Connall, the perfect picture of a concerned brother.

"Right this way," she said, gesturing to the room behind her, "We put him in here or his privacy. Too many people recognized him,"

Connall nodded and they all followed her. Both Connall and the tall blonde took either side of his bed. The big brunette man and Whitethorn opted to stay closer to her while the fifth man stood by the foot of the bed.

"Fenrys," said the blonde, "What happened? We came as soon as we got the call, took a while in this storm,"

"You didn't have to come," said Fenrys, "I just overdid it. I'm ready to go home,"

He tried to get to the blankets but his brother stopped him.

"Just wait a second. I wanna hear this from the doctor,"

He then turned towards her.

"I'm Connall. The blonde is Gavriel. Lorcan and Rowan are with you and this one over here is Vaughan. Can you tell us what's wrong with my brother?"

Hafiza looked at her patient for permission. After a moment, Fenrys sighed and nodded.

"To put it simply," said Hafiza, "The man is exhausted. His meal plans and workout routine is wearing him down-"

"Hold up- wait," said Rowan, "That doesn't make any sense. He's a professional. He knows how to take care of himself. There has to be something else wrong here,"

Hafiza tampered down her annoyance. Well, there went her hope for a smooth plan for Fenrys.

"That is what it is," said Hafiza

"Look, guys," said Fenrys, "Like I said, I overdid it a bit. Nothing special. I'm fine,"

The man most certainly was not fine. She was thinking of what else to say but Gavriel beat her to it.

"We all overdo it sometimes, doesn't make us collapse over some gym equipment. And you've been avoiding us, Fen,"

"I said I'm fine!"

"Obviously not," muttered Vaughan

"You know what, asshole-"

"Enough," said Lorcan

The room instantly got quiet.

The man turned to Fenrys, "You're lying. You know it. We know it. Now you obviously don't want the doctor saying whatever she was going to say so why don't you let us know what's going on,"

Fenrys opened his mouth but then shut it.

"The truth, Fenrys," said Lorcan

The words burst out all at once.

"I'm tired, okay?! Is that what you wanna hear, I'm tired and I'm trying to get better but I'm not getting any better, and feeling down all the time and there's this big empty hole inside of me and I- I just- I'm tired okay. I just feel really tired all the time, Food doesn't taste good and sleep is just weird. I- don't know what- I don't- don't know what-"

As his rant died down, Fenrys's eyes started to fill with tears. He ducked his face to hide them but Gavriel pulled him close instead. His brother put an arm around him from behind. The rest of the men just watched in shock as Fenrys cried into Gavriel's chest.

Hafiza waited.

"Gods," muttered Rowans. Lorcan just shook his head and sighed.

It was sinking in for them. This would be a crucial moment.

"Fenrys," murmured Rowan, "Please look at us,"

Sniffling Fenrys pulled away so everyone could see him.

"You need a break from all this, Boyo," said Rowan, "This isn't healthy. We'll change your plan so you can have some time to yourself,"

"Maeve isn't going to like that," said Fenrys, voice just a bit bitter "And anyway, what are you going to help with? You're all leaving anyway,"

"What?" asked Conall, looking around the room, "What is he talking about?"

"We've been discussing retirement," answered Gavriel, "We're a lot older than you and we just don't swim the same anymore,"

"Doesn't mean we're leaving you," said Vaughan, "We're still gonna be right here. Just not in the game,"

"Not getting rid of us that easily, Boyo," Rowan chimed in, a small grin on his face.

Good. This was good.

Fenrys was starting to look a little more hopeful, "Maeve's still not gonna like a plan change though, she already thinks I don't work hard enough,"

"That's bullshit," said Lorcan, "When did she say that?"

"A month ago,"

Lorcan and Rowan looked at each other for a few moments, seemingly holding a silent conversation between them.

"Maybe its time we got you and Connall a new coach," said Rowan once they turned back

"What?" said Fenrys, surprise etched into his face. His brother looked just as shocked.

Hafiza had to admit, she was surprised too.

"You're good, Fenrys. There are a lot of people who would jump at the chance to coach the two of you. And if there's no one else, we'll do it ourselves," said Rowan.

"What?"

"I've been assisting With the younger swimmers for a while now," said Lorcan, "And Rowan has been assisting Aelin on her come back-"

"Not the only thing he's assisting with," muttered Vaughan, causing groans and chuckles around the room.

"Point is," continued Lorcan, "We can do this,"

"Maeve will try to blacklist you," said Connall

"Let her try," said Rowan

"You would really do this?" asked Fenrys, sounding small and unsure

"Of course," said Lorcan, voice filled with conviction, "But you need help, Fen. This isn't okay,"

After a long moment, Fenrys nodded, "Alright. I'll try,"

Hafiza let out a long breath. This was good.

Rowan turned towards her, "So doctor, how do we help him?"

Hafiza straightened her notes and started to got through the treatment, "Well, to start with, his diet-"

They all listened intently as she talked, Vaughan even taking notes. They had also all gravitated towards the bed, at least one hand reaching for their friend.

Some days being a doctor was great and some days it was not. However, Hafiza could say without a doubt, at this moment it was truly wonderful

Today, it was a good day to be a doctor.

[topconfessions]

Oh so according to you Selena dating Justin when he was 17 and she was 19 is not okay and she’s a `sex offender’ but Taehyung dating Kim Yoo Jung, whom he has known since she was 15 and he was 19 seems okay to you ???

I honestly and truly dont care about any of these people nor do I even follow them minus Yoojung.

Let's not go there and you're not going to succeed in gaslighting this into THAT sort of conversation. IDK how many times I have to explain that because I'm 27 and am not glued to today's trends that heavy that I'm not big on the bandwagon out of social outrage on things nobody gave a fuck in late 90s to 2009.

Anyways I could say over 560,978 girls on average in America and Korea have known a male figure since they were a child or teen then ended up either dating them when legal or getting hit on by them. This is just life. Doesnt make it right but its life. Jay Z did the same to Beyonce but gets a pass cause he's a star.

Facts are facts. I've seen literal reports and cases where guys have gotten arrested and jailed or thrown in Juvi for having sex at school or sexual relations in dating when someone is 19/20 dating a 17 year old. It hasn't happened in your state or country but I've seen it. Also why are we harping on like the world and various countries don't have conflicting age of consent laws?

14 is an age of consent for sex in some places even 11 disgustingly.

Nobody is a real predator but Selena gives predator vibes in the way she social climber. Being predatory is not exclusive to dating and sex. It means what the word means by textbook definition. Someone can attack you from behind after you leave the store when they were stalking you the entire walk and that's predatory. Someone seeing you are sick and ill not in your best judgement approaching you asking you to do something or agree to something with pressure knowing you are more likely to give in than when healthy and able is predatory. Manipulative but predatory.

How are you asking me this when yoojung and Taehyung are two people who knew each other for as long time as opposed to JB and Selena where she tried hard to say brother sister the usual ew that's my brother cute deflecting until they fell for each other

So we support incest now? You either like him or you don't. I wouldn't claim someone is my brother then date them lately. If I feel confused and feel that I am not sure I will just say he is a friend I care for and am still figuring that out.

This is why idols are idols and are trained cause imagine the history of blunders we'd have every generation if idols weren't trained and coached on how to handle press / personal questions. We'd have a whole bunch of confusing mess teenagers are saying with their later actions conflicting with what they said.

Case closed and I'm dropping this discussion.

Yoojung was a PR beard for Tae. Whether she bearded for Bogum or another girl is up in the air but that was a distraction beaed rumor.

HyunA at her big age and place in the industry was dating Edawn and sure they are close in age proximity although she is older but sis pulled a selena by dating a Junior she had more leverage with.

That's all.

[ejzah]

A/N: I think I was inspired by @glencoco4’s recent story, The Bravest. Hopefully it’s not too similar.

***

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” 15 year old Caleb asked. They were on their way to a soccer practice and he’d been silent most of the way, which was uncommon, but not completely unusual.

“Of course,” Kensi said, glancing over at him. His head was lowered so she couldn’t see his face completely. He swiped at his dark blonde bangs, the movement quick and jerky. His hair was always flopping in his face, just like his father.

“What really happened to dad’s father?” This question was asked softly, but with a conviction that made Kensi pause. He’d asked similar questions over the years when he noticed the lack of presence Gordon Brandel had in their lives. The first time, he’d simply asked why he only had one grandpa.

This time felt different.

“Caleb, what’s going on?” He hesitated for a minute, fiddling with his shoes and then his hair before he finally whispered,

“I found this box at Grandma Deeks’ house when I was looking for pictures for that school assignment.” Caleb paused again as Kensi’s heart suddenly began to race and then he looked at her, his eyes full of confusion.

“There were a bunch of papers. Like legal papers. And this file that said “Juvenile Record of Martin Deeks”. I opened it up and...” he swallowed harshly and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Mom, it said he shot his dad. Is that true?”

Kensi’s mouth felt incredibly dry and suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could speak at all. They’d known this moment was coming at some point, she just hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

“Did you read the whole file?” she finally asked. He shook his head quickly.

“No, I just saw that and I freaked. I shoved everything back in the box and told grandma I had a test to study for.”

“There’s a lot more to the story,” Kensi said slowly, driving aimlessly now. Making a sudden decision, she signaled and pulled off to the side of the road. She texted Caleb’s coach to tell him that he wouldn’t be at practice and then turned to her son. “This is something we need to discuss with your dad.”

His face fell.

“So it’s true. How-what-how does that happen?” He sounded so confused it broke Kensi’s heart. Awkwardly wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders, she gave him a hug and assured him,

“Your dad is a good man. One of the best men I have ever know and I promise when you know the whole story, it will make sense.”

“But-“

“It’s not my story to tell, honey.”

She let them both calm down for a few more minutes before she turned the van around. She’d sent Deeks a text that they needed to talk about something important so he wouldn’t be completely shocked.

It was hard to tell what Caleb was thinking; he could be just as boisterous and social as his father, but he also had a similar tendency to turn introspective. During those times, Kensi knew his actions, and thoughts, could be unpredictable.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Deeks asked, when they walked through the door. He kissed Kensi distractedly, looking them both over for signs of injury.

“I found your juvenile record,” Caleb answered, not beating around the bush. Kensi heard Deeks suck in a quick breath.

“Oh,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “We should probably sit down.”

Kensi and Deeks sat down on the couch, next to each other, automatically linking their hands. After a minute, Caleb sat next to them, but he kept his arms crossed.

“Dad, why did you shoot him?” Deeks sighed again and Kensi knew he was struggling to put words to a subject that still haunted him.

“Before I answer that question, you need to know a few other things. My dad he, uh, he wasn’t a great person. He drank a lot and he was very angry. When I was about five or six, he started hitting me and your grandma. He’d flip out over something or they’d get in an argument and he’d hit us,” Deeks explained, his eyes never leaving their son’s.

His lips had parted in surprise when Deeks had mentioned the violence and he shook his head, putting up a hand to halt the story.

“That’s domestic violence,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” The word was a little broken and Deeks drew in another shallow breath. Even after all these years, it was hard for him to talk about. Kensi leaned into his side, offering the contact as support. Deeks’ body was rigid with tension.

“How bad did it get?” Kensi thought he knew. She though Caleb had put all the pieces together already, but much like his parents, he liked to have all the information. He wasn’t content with half-stories.

Deeks pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Pretty bad. We ended up in the emergency several times and my arm got broken once. It the violence increased over time and then one night, when I was 11, he got mad at your grandma over something. I don’t even remember what. But he, uh, he started throwing things and hitting her and this time he didn’t stop.” Another breath.

“I ran into the room. I don’t know what I was thinking I could do, but I jumped in front of grandma and dad hit me instead. He told me to get out of the way and when I didn’t, he kept hitting me. Then he grabbed his shot gun.”

“Oh my god,” Caleb whispered. He face was stricken and reached out to take his father’s other hand. Deeks squeezed it back, staring into space for a moment.

“Mom pushed me out of the way. She wasn’t in good shape, but she was still trying to protect me. Dad started hitting her again, threatening to shoot us...so I ran upstairs. A friend of mine had given me a gun in case anything really bad happened and I, uh, I grabbed it and ran back downstairs.”

Tears were running down all three of their cheeks at this point and Kensi gripped Deeks’ hand so hard it must have hurt. She didn’t know if he’d ever gone into this much detail with anyone. Certainly not with her.

“When he saw me with it, he shoved me away and aimed the shot gun at your grandma and I just shot him. I don’t know how I even hit him since I’d never fired a gun before, but it hit him in the side.

“I don’t remember all that much after that until the police came. One of the neighbors had called them,” Deeks finished, watching Caleb’s reaction. He’d stopped crying, but his cheeks were still wet and he scrubbed at them ineffectually.

“Did your dad die after you shot him,” he asked. Kensi noticed that he didn’t link himself with the man he’d never met, like he normally would.

“No. He recovered after a couple weeks in the hospital and then he was tried in court and went to prison.” Caleb opened his mouth, but Deeks guessed his next question before he asked. “I never saw him again after that. All I know is that he was released from jail early and later died in a car accident.”

Good,” Caleb said fervently.

“Caleb!” Kensi reprimanded him sharply, even though she secretly agreed.

“What, I mean it.” Caleb had that stubborn set to his face that was again indicative of his parentage. Deeks freed one of his hands and scrubbed it over his face, looking older and more tired than he had 10 minutes ago.

“Caleb, you don’t want to think like that, believe me,” he said. “Your gra-my dad was not a good man, but you never want to get into thinking that someone dying is a good thing.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but didn’t contradict Deeks.

“So why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked. He sounded hurt and possibly bitter. “Every time I asked what happened to my other grandfather, you just said he died a long time ago. Even if you didn’t want to tell me the whole story, you should have told me the truth.”

Deeks glanced at Kensi again and she nodded for him to continue.

“We didn’t tell you because it’s a lot to handle. Even though your nearly an adult, knowing my history is a big weight to put on another person. We didn’t want to put that on you too soon,” he said gently.

“I think that should have been my choice.”

“Well, now that you know, what are you thinking?” Kensi asked gingerly. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and that worried her.

Caleb looked across the room, messing with his fingers as he thought. Eventually he shrugged and said,

“It makes a lot of sense,” he said, speaking directly to Deeks. “Everything I’ve seen you do, everything you’ve told me and taught me all my life, it makes sense now. It explains a lot about you too.”

“In a good or bad way?” Caleb seemed surprised by the question.

“I’ve always wanted to be just like you and now I have even more reason to want that.”

“Is that why you were so upset when you found that file?” Kensi asked, suddenly coming to a realization. “You thought your dad wasn’t the man you’d looked up to for so long.”

Caleb shrugged again.

“I guess.” He turned to Deeks again. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Dad.”

“No worries, buddy,” Deeks assured him as Caleb swiped at his nose again. He seemed close to crying again and Deeks wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Come here.”

Kensi wrapped her arms around both of them as Caleb buried his head in their shoulder the same way he had when he was a little boy.

“Thanks for always taking care of us, dad,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Always,” Deeks promised, looking over his head at Kensi. “Always.”

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Chapter 3 "What, Like It's Hard?"

Title: Legally Ginger Chapter 3: "What Like It's Hard?"

Rating: Teen (I'm sorry Ron and I are equally fond of the f word)

Summary: Based off the movie Legally Blonde. Ron makes the move to Boston but his Harvard career is off to a rough start.

Author Notes: I do want to caveat that not everyone who attends an Ivy League school is a snob so no offense to anyone that did; it’s just a fun romcom stereotype.

Additionally, I felt the need to address that it can be a bit scary for anyone to stalk someone across the country but particularly a man stalking a woman across country is historically problematic. Unfortunately, given it's basically the entire plot of this story, we can't completely avoid it. So remember, this is a fun thing in movies but a red flag in real life.

And yes, I do crib more from the movie on the curriculum. I did not attend law school and can use the help. So I bolded the language that was either verbatim or heavily cribbed from the movie.

Chapter title is a movie quote.

Thank you so much to adnei for all of the beta help and feedback!

I've been so excited to share this chapter with all of you and I think when you get to the end, you'll know why. Let me know what you think!

Link to AO3 or read more below.

“All set then?” asked his dad, closing the back of the old Ford Escape Bill had passed off to him.

“I think that’s all of it,” Ron agreed.

“Well, I’ll go get your mother then to see you off,” Dad said.

The twins and Ginny were standing on the curb, having already loaded the boxes they carried in the vehicle.

“Well, in two days, you’ll be knocking on Astoria’s door to find out if this crazy plan worked.”

Ron laughed. “Not exactly. Hopefully I run into her the first week.”

George’s jaw dropped. “You spent 90k of Muriel’s cash and wasted the best party semester of your life to hope to run into her?”

He hadn’t gone the entire spring semester without seeing Stori. She’d sought him out a few times for a bit of, as she put it, mutual stress relief, but refused to discuss anything further about their relationship. She had bid him a teary goodbye at their commencement ceremony, where he had been evasive about his post graduation plans.

“The point was to be worthy of her, not scare her. Ginny, imagine you get drafted by the Red Stars and suddenly that douche you dated, Corner, is working there as the strength and conditioning coach. You’d be freaked out.”

“It’s a good point,” said Ginny.

“Look, I’ll show up, I’ll get to know everyone, make my connections, and charm the professors. She’ll know I’m there without me ever telling her.”

“You never faded into the background at CULA,” Fred agreed.

“I’ll say hi if I see her but she’ll be knocking on my door by October,” Ron said confidentially.

“Oh yeah?” George’s voice was skeptical.

“You didn’t think I’d make it this far,” pointed out Ron. “It’s… it’s got to work.”

Suddenly, he felt his confidence drop. Was this a stupid plan?

“Best of luck, bro,” said Fred, giving him a one armed hug.

“Regardless of everything… Ron, you got into Harvard. Harvard. Don’t let them take that away from you,” Ginny said fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, you sound like Mom now,” Ron said, brushing her off before his cheeks could burn. “Where’s she at? I’m burning daylight here.”

“I’m right here,” said his mom, walking out the front door of the ranch home he’d grown up in, holding a cooler. “I have some sandwiches to at least get you through the first day on the road,”

“First hour maybe,” George scoffed.

“Thanks Mom,” he took the cooler and stuck it in the car. When he turned back around, his dad had joined them again.

“Well, this is it,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh… Ginny, go pack a bag and join your brother. We’ll buy you a plane ticket home. Or I can come along,” his mom blurted out, nervously twisting her hands.

“Mom,” Ron groaned.

“Molly, he’ll be okay,” his dad said gently.

“Call me once a day,” Mom said. “Just during the trip,” she added, when Ron started to object.

“Okay,” he agreed. He drew her into a hug.

After he’d said goodbye to each of them, he whistled. “Pig, come on boy!” The pug ran across the yard and allowed Ron to scoop him up and put him in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and swallowed hard. Was this a big mistake?

“We’re so proud of you, son,” his dad said.

“We’ll see you at Christmas?” his mom asked.

Ron didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded and closed the car door. He started the vehicle and with one last wave, he backed out of the driveway.

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

Five days later, Ron’s alarm was blaring.

“What fucking time is it?” he muttered, slamming the sleep button. In response, Pig grunted and rolled over.

It had been four days of naps and showers at truck stops, coffee, Monster, and fast food but he’d arrived yesterday in order to get a decent night’s sleep before today’s orientation. He, however, had failed to calculate in the three hour time difference that combined with his driving fatigue, was wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

He sighed and went to a still packed box marked “clothes”. He immediately groaned. His khakis were wrinkled as hell. Should have hung them in the bathroom last night when he showered to at least get a little help from the steam.

Luckily, he had a couple dress shirts in the garment bag with his sports coat and two suits. During his brother Percy’s summer visit, he’d used one of Ron’s rare free days to take him shopping. Percy had gotten some advice from a friend of his that attended the University of Chicago on law school attire and had insisted Ron needed at least three suits.

Ron, who was expecting that this whole thing would be wrapped up by spring, balked at the idea but finally agreed to one new suit to go with the one he already owned, a blazer, khakis, and a few polo shirts. He had shirts and tie combos from various formal and semi-formal events, but doubted he’d need much of it. Percy’s friend had said classes were business casual and while his golf shirts were comfortable enough, Ron really hoped that by the second week, everyone was wearing hoodies in class.

He finished getting ready and then grabbed Pig’s leash. “Come on boy,” he prodded the slumbering pug. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be holding it all day.”

They walked the campus, enjoying the morning quiet. While it didn’t give Ron the ease and sense of belonging CULA did, it was an impressive campus. For a moment, he wished he’d taken his mom up on the offer to come out with him - she’d love to see this. He hated the loneliness he felt and was glad to see Pig do his business. Sooner he could get to orientation and meet some people, the better.

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

Orientation had been a mix of boring and interesting. He’d slipped in right at the last minute and sat in the back row to ensure he went unnoticed if he were in the same group of students as Astoria. Luckily, he didn’t notice her in the room. While he missed her terribly, he hadn’t come this far to destroy his plans now, and running into her before classes even started was not the plan.

Now they had moved into the social mixer part of the evening, which he was delighted to see that unlike undergrad, law school mixers included booze.

“Uh… you have anything local?” Ron asked the bartender.

“Nothing craft but I do have Dogfish Head,” the bartender said.

“That’ll do,” Ron responded, sticking a dollar in the tip cup. Had Astoria accepted his proposal, maybe he would have pursued the Boston Beer job and he’d have cases of this stuff in their kitchen. The bartender handed him a glass full of his other life and he wandered over to a small group of people, chatting.

“Hi, Ron Weasley,” he said sticking out his hand to the woman on his right.

“Uh, hi,” she said, sounding surprised but not unfriendly. “Lisa Turpin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ernie MacMillan,” said a blonde man, standing next to Lisa. Ron shook his hand and then shook the hand of the man next to him who introduced himself as Jack Sloper.

“We were just discussing undergrads,” Ernie said. “Jack and I were both Princeton men, although I took a gap year in Europe so different classes. Lisa here was an Eli. How about you?”

Ron inwardly winced. This guy sounded so pompous. An Eli, really? Anyone who watched a few seasons of Gilmore Girls knew what that was. Ron took a deep breath. “West coast here. I graduated from CULA.”

“That’s a solid state school system,” said Ernie. It wasn’t an insult, but when he said it, somehow it sounded like one.

“Yeah, well, it got the job done,” he said, forcing his friendliest tone.

“What were your undergrad degrees in?” Jack asked the group.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a stereotype. Political science for me,” Ernie chuckled.

“Same,” said Lisa. “Although I double majored in French.”

“I was a double major as well. Economics and Spanish,” Jack responded.

“There just wasn’t time for a double major while I was student body president, I’m afraid,” Ernie said. “What about you, Ron?”

“Uh, yeah, just the one major for me. Food science,” he said self-consciously.

“Food science,” Lisa repeated, her tone again not unfriendly but certainly not welcoming. Ron’s whole body stiffened.

“Like cooking?” asked Jack skeptically.

“No, there are a few different concentrations but I was focused on food biochemistry and microbiology,” he explained.

“I think the only micro I’m aware of with food is microwaves or microbrewing,” Jack said, letting out a condescending chuckle.

“Actually, brewing was a big part of my internship last summer. I was at Anheuser-Busch working on their new sustainable brewing initiative,” he said.

“Interesting,” said Lisa. “Ernie, where did you spend your time abroad?”

“I assume you’re interested in whether I spent any time in France, which I can assure you that I did.”

“I hope when you say France, you don’t just mean Paris,” said Jack and Ron was glad to see his condescension focused on someone else.

Ernie laughed loudly in response. “Of course not.”

Ron took a big swig of his beer. This was going to be a long night.

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

Ron shifted his backpack as he carefully studied the room numbers next to each door. Everyone else looked so comfortable and confident and he wondered if all of his fellow students had mapped out their routes in advance of the first day of classes.

His eyes were so busy shifting from the left side of the hallway to the right that he failed to notice someone stopped right in front of him until he slammed into them.

“Ooof,” he said. “I’m sor - ”

“Ron?!”

Of course he had just walked right into Astoria.

Astoria stood there, mouth hanging open as she stared at him. Despite the gormless look on her face, she looked absolutely gorgeous with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight curled ponytail, the kind he used to love to pull out at the end of the day. Even though it was just barely September, she was wearing an orange cardigan and he thought about how she obsessively dressed in what she called “the colors of the season”.

“Hey there,” he forced out in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Going to class,” Ron responded. “Don’t want to be late; see you!” He took broad steps around and away from her.

Ron let out a sigh of relief as his classroom was the next one he spotted. He took a deep breath as he walked into the lecture hall for his first class. He spotted a seat near the middle of the room that felt like the right place for the impression he wanted to make.

“Hey,” he greeted the guy next to him. The guy nodded, not even looking up from his laptop. Ron shrugged and pulled his computer out of his bag and powered it up.

While it was sooner than he had hoped, Ron had played it pretty cool with Astoria during their chance meeting. Short and to the point, nothing dumb or embarrassing said. His most successful interaction at Harvard to date.

While he was congratulating himself, a severe looking older woman walked purposefully to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

“Welcome to the start of your legal education,” she said. “I’m Professor McGonagall.”

As the professor began to speak about the syllabus, Ron allowed his mind to wander back to Astoria. She hadn’t looked upset or angry to see him, merely surprised. Maybe a bit uncomfortable, which was understandable. She also looked phenomenal. It had been way too long since they had been together and he had almost forgotten how stunning she was.

“Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele?”

Ron looked up with a start. “Huh?”

Professor McGonagall was standing right in front of him, looking annoyed. “Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele as it relates to subject matter jurisdiction?”

“Uh…” Ron said, shocked. “It’s the first day of class.”

The classroom was now silently watching him.

“Did you not read the first fifty pages of the assigned text?” McGonagall asked.

“I didn’t realize there was an assignment,” Ron said nervously. He heard a snort behind him and his head whipped around to look at the source.

Professor McGonagall seemed to hear the snort too and shifted her focus. “And you, young man? You could answer my question?”

“Of course,” the smartass snorter said. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

Oh, thought Ron. This guy is the worst.

“So would you support my decision to ask this student to remove himself from class until he’s prepared?”

Ron froze.

“Yes Professor,” said the cocky douchebag.

Professor McGonagall motioned to Ron. “Once you’re prepared, you will be welcomed back to class. Until then…”

Ron packed up his laptop, completely stunned. He gave a hard stare at the messy haired jerk, who smirked back at him as he stomped out of the room.

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

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Where the fuck does she get the right… and that fucking douchebag,” Ron muttered.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out from behind him. “That’s more profanity than I care to hear in a week, let alone at 8:30 on a Monday.”

Ron looked up, irritated by the interruption to his own self pity. The reprimand came from a pretty curly haired brunette perched on a neighboring bench, a giant stack of books beside her. Despite her scolding words, she had a hint of a smile. A smile that actually looked friendly.

“Sorry,” he said, ears turning red. “I just… are they always that mean?”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, like, call you out like that. My professors have always liked me all right,” Ron replied, feeling quite embarrassed to explain this to her.

“Yes, they tend to do that. Socratic method,” said the woman.

“Ah,” he responded. He knew the name Socrates thanks to his philosophy major ex, but nothing of the method.

“Were you with McGonagall?”

“Yeah. She kicked me out!”

The brunette made a sympathetic noise.

“She ever kick you out?”

The woman now looked scandalized. “Never! But I had nightmares about her my whole first week. Who else do you have?”

“Uh, Sprout, Slughorn, Umbridge…”

“Umbridge likes when you speak up in class but make sure you always concede to her in the end. Slughorn’s kind of pretentious but if you make good use of your thesaurus for his papers, he’s easy to please.”

“Nice, thanks,” Ron said, nodding his head with a slight smile. She grinned back at him.

“This place is tough; don’t let one setback your first day throw you off,” she urged.

“I’m glad I picked this bench. So what year are - ”

“Ron? Can we talk?” Astoria was standing in front of him, looking a bit nervous.

“If you want,” he said carefully.

“Please,” she said, taking a few steps back. Ron lifted a hand in goodbye to the girl on the bench before approaching Astoria.

“So… you’re at Harvard,” she said nervously, rubbing her right hand over her left.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“And… you got into Harvard,” Astoria said.

“Clearly,” he answered, a bit irritated by her tone. She didn’t really think he was an idiot, did she?

“How was your first class? “

“It could have been better,” Ron admitted.

“That’s because you-you don’t belong here,” Astoria said. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m trusting that you’re not here to, like stalk me or hurt me or something. Regardless, this just isn’t something you can do. The people that are going to be successful here… they’re like, bred for this. And it’s not you. I didn’t break up with you to be a bitch. This just isn’t something you’re cut out for.”

“Stori - ” he tried to interrupt.

“And Ron, it costs a fortune to go here! How are you even covering this? I still care about you. Please, just cut your losses now,” she pleaded.

“No way,” said Ron, feeling the fire to prove himself ignite. “Look, my first class was rough but it’s because I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how all of this works. Now I do. Frankly, that asshole that got me kicked out did me a favor because - ”

“Stori, there you are.” Out of nowhere, the aforementioned asshole from class appeared and slung a possessive arm around Astoria’s shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said, biting her lower lip and no longer meeting Ron’s eyes.

“We haven’t properly met although, after that disaster in class, maybe it’s pointless,” chuckled the douchebag.

“Ron, this is Harry Potter… my fiancé.”

Ron clenched his jaw but he knew his ears were reddening in a dead giveaway. “Really?”

“Harry was my high school boyfriend. We reconnected this spring and it just felt… right,” Astoria answered awkwardly.

“Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks buddy,” Harry said, voice dripping in mock sincerity.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go,” Ron said. Summoning every ounce of self control he had, he quickly walked in the direction of his residence hall, Astoria calling after him.

[dilophosaurusatenewman]

So a few years ago I ran to be a delegate for my city. When I went to the location to vote and speak with my friends who asked me to run, mingle, etc. everyone was talking about what they do for work. Pretty much everyone worked for campaigns, politicians, unions, nonprofits, etc.

When it came to my turn, I told them I was the operations manager at a retail store. One woman looked me dead in the eye and said, in the most condescending tone, "oh, so you're just a concerned citizen?"

I have a bachelor's degree in political science, but I didn't mention it. I simply smiled and nodded and pretended her jab didn't make me feel inferior.

But you know what? I do a lot as a retail manager. At my old location, I helped an associate look over her paystubs and calculate how much money she had lost to our store manager illegally fixing her lunch violations and coached and supported her on how to approach him and demand her pay. She got the couple hundred dollars she was owed.

A couple weeks ago, a new cashier approached me, obviously nervous. She admitted to me that a customer had grabbed a candy bar and she had forgotten to charge him for it. She offered to pay for it herself. She told me this is her first job and she doesn't want to lose it. I told her one, it's a candy bar who fucking cares, corporate can afford that loss, and two, that it was illegal for anyone to expect her to pay for anything like that out of her own pocket and if anyone ever asks her to do that that they're breaking the law and she needs to refuse.

Tonight an associate asked me if he was allowed to talk about his wages with other associates, that he had been told it was "taboo." I told him it was illegal to keep associates from discussing their wages with each other. Through this discussion, a different associate realized that she is being underpaid for her position.

I constantly talk to them about their rights. About fighting for what they're entitled to. About what is legal and common illegalities that occur for them to look out for and what they can do if (when) someone inevitably tries to take advantage of them.

I'm making a difference in my position. I'm giving these people information and confidence that they'll carry with them. I'm helping them learn not to take any bullshit and to stand up when they see it occurring.

Fuck that woman who acted condescending toward me, like my position doesn't matter. It does.

Don't let people make you feel belittled or inferior. Don't let people make you feel like you can't make a difference without a fancy title.

I honestly feel like I'm making more of a difference now than I ever did through my volunteer work. We can all make an impact in different ways, no matter what we do for work.

Anyway, I don't know what point this rant was meant to prove. I just realized I felt good about my actions and wanted to share that with other people.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 5

A few hours later, Dr. Marcus came out and let us know the surgery was successful. “Depending on how his body reacts to coming off the anaesthesia, you may be able to go home tonight. I’ll send him home with a prescription for pain medication. He will be in recovery for a while, but you can see him after he is back in his room.”

“That sounds great. Thank you, doctor.”

Scott and I sat and talked while we waited. He had refused to go to school or leave my side while Monty was in surgery or recovery. I sent him home when Monty was out of recovery and we knew everything was okay. Dr. Marcus called me into his room again to discuss things.

“Everything went well and I am confident you will make a full recovery if you stick to our recovery plan.”

“That’s great news. What is the plan exactly?” Monty asked.

“You will need to take it easy for the next little while. It's important to keep your leg elevated, apply ice to your knee and rest as much as possible. I would like you to be on crutches for anywhere from one to two weeks, if you have discomfort after two weeks, continue with crutches on and off for about two more weeks. Or until your discomfort has lessened. Around two to four weeks you can try to begin bearing weight on your leg but do not go too hard too fast. It’s about baby steps. You will also begin physical therapy around this time. Your therapist will recommend multiple times a week in the beginning to try and get as much range of motion back as possible. With continued therapy and care, I see no reason as to why you would be unable to return to playing sports in the time you would like. But that is only if you are careful and not ignoring what you are supposed to be doing.” “So in other words, my life will be PT and maybe walking at some point, for the next four to nine months?”

“Essentially, yes. I recommend ibuprofen or an anti-inflammatory for the pain, in addition to the icing schedule we discussed last night. Additionally, I understand you are newlyweds, but physical intimacy is going to have to take a backseat to healing.”

I squeezed Monty’s hand. I think that is the part he is going to take the most issue with. He looked at the doctor with sad eyes. It’s not like you’ll die of no sex dearest husband.

“I understand that may not be the best news, I was a newlywed once too. But once you have range of motion and can bear weight on your leg, we can discuss clearing you for that as well. I see no reason that it would be a four to six months before clearance item. Plus, do you really want to be the guy who re-tore his ACL having sex?”

Monty smirked. “No. You do not. It sounds cool, but it’s really not. Your friends will laugh at you.”

“Coach Kerba would kill you. Besides, we have the rest of our lives for that.” I added.

“I guess that’s fair.” He grumbled.

After some practice with the crutches, he was cleared to go home. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook anything, so I ordered us pizza when we got home, and Monty was situated on the couch with his leg elevated on a few pillows on the coffee table. I had a feeling he was going to make good on his vow to “annoy me for the rest of my life” in the coming weeks. I went to our room to change into pyjamas and put my wedding set on while we waited for the pizza to arrive.

It arrived shortly after and he made a face at my vegetable pizza, “don’t worry. I got you pepperoni. You don’t have to eat vegetables today.”

“Good.” He smiled and I plopped myself down on the couch. After arguing about what to watch for a while, we settled on a rerun of Law & Order: SVU. This one seemed less intense as some of the other episodes.

“So, everyone knows now.” I said, placing my fork down after finishing a slice of pizza.

“Yeah, they do. I still don’t understand why you eat pizza with a fork by the way.”

“You said you would stop giving me crap about it you jerk. And it’s only certain kinds when they’re hot. This one just happens to be one of them.” I laughed, poking his arm.

“Hey, I’m injured.” He protested; feigning being affronted.

“Your leg is injured. Your arm is fine.”

“Whatever.”

“Does this mean I can wear my set to school now?” I asked, pondering the idea as I twisted my engagement ring around.

“I was going to wear my ring, so I don’t see why you couldn’t wear yours.”

“Okay.” I kissed his cheek and cleared the dishes into the dishwasher. We spent the rest of the evening cuddled on the couch, arguing playfully about what to watch when one show ended.

I woke up the following morning wrapped in Monty’s arms. I don’t think I will ever get tired of this. I watched him sleep, snoring softly for a few minutes before our alarm went off. “hhuummggg.” Monty groaned.

“Babe, it’s time to wake up.”

“Nooo. Sleep.”

“I know but we need to go to school.”

“No.”

I sighed, “fine, I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go brush my teeth and make coffee. By the time I’m back in here, I would like you to at least be sitting up. Preferably, you would have pants on.”

“Mhmm. Yes dear.”

Shaking my head and throwing back the covers, I got up and went about my business. I decided to give him a couple more minutes to get himself up so I got dressed and grabbed a slice of pizza for each of us for lunch. When I got back in our room to check his progress, he was still snuggled up under the covers. “Montgomery. You need to get up.”

He let out a long sigh, “fine. If I have to.”

“You do. I’m not facing the music on my own. Leftover pizza okay for lunch?”

“Yeah that’s fine.” He grumbled, sleepily. I’m not entirely sure he knows what I asked him.

“Do you want an Advil?”

“No, I think I’m good for now. Thanks, though babe.” I watched him sit up and begin to get himself ready. I knew it was going to take him longer than usual, which is why I insisted he get up now. Once he had some coffee and toast in his system, he was a lot more personable. Before we left for school, I made sure to put on my wedding set. It felt odd to wear it in public, but also incredibly satisfying.

I drove us to school early to meet Scott and Justin for some moral support. “He let you drive the Jeep?” Scott asked as soon as I had parked, and we were out of the car.

“Well considering he physically can’t drive right now and the fact that if it gets in an accident, it’s also my problem, yes. He let me drive.”

“Even still. I’m surprised. How’re you feeling, man?”

“Eh, it hurts but it’s not like I can’t manage it.”

“Do you want an Advil?” I asked quickly.

“No Addy. I’m fine. And I can administer my own medication, I am an adult after all.”

“I know. I just don’t know how else to help is all.”

“I know. You make good coffee though. That helps.”

“Right, right. Coffee. That’s why you married her.” Justin laughed.

“Well if you really want to know why I married her….” Monty teased.

“La la la la la. I’m not listening.” Justin exclaimed, covering his ears.

It was still early, but we decided to make our way inside to our lockers anyway. The few people in the halls stopped to watch us with curious eyes. I was nervous to make eye contact with any of them, so I kept my head down. We were almost at my locker when a student got up the nerve to stop us and say something. I think his name was David or something. I recognized him from my ninth grade French class. “Hey. I was at the game and saw that hit. I’m sorry you got hurt.” He said to Monty. He blinked in surprise, none of our group expecting that kind of response. The kid turned his attention to me, and Monty moved in front of me slightly. “Use your wifely influence to make sure he’s on the sidelines at every game. Maybe then he can talk some sense into the team.” He looked down at my left hand, briefly examining my ring. “Good choice. See you guys around.” He nodded and waved as he walked away. The students around us stood silently. We were all stunned. After we broke out of our shock and shared amazed looks, the four of us made our ways to our lockers. Chatter had resumed once again but grew eerily silent as I gathered my books. They’re here.

Justin spoke up when he noticed my friends approaching, “she’s had a long couple of days guys.” Monty sucked in a breath, likely preparing to tell them to fuck off.

“We just want to talk to her.” Clay told Justin. They still hadn’t acknowledged me or Monty.

“I think you said enough the other night Clay.”

“Addison?” Alex prompted.

“Hmm?” I responded.

“Can we talk? Alone?”

“Depends. I’m pretty sure whatever you want to say to me can be said in front of them.”

“We’d really rather not….”

“I’m not sure if you realize this, but I’m injured. I can’t even stand up on my own. It’s not like I can hurt you or anything.”

“Still.”

“Fine. But just know that I’m going to tell him what you say anyway.”

“That’s fine.” Jessica said.

The boys took that as their cue to leave, but not before Monty leaned down to kiss me softly. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He muttered against my lips. I nodded. My friends looked uncomfortable and I heard Scott talking to Monty as they walked away.

“You smug bastard.”

I hadn’t noticed that Justin stayed behind until I felt his hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump. I was too focused on the impending explosions from my friends. Before they began, Tyler came up to our tense little group. Great. “Hey guys. Hey Addison.”

“Hi Tyler.” I greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” My friends watched our exchange with their breath held. This is so awkward. Will somebody please mention the elephant in the hallway?

“You guys really did it?”

“Got married?” He nodded. Thank you. “Yeah. It’s all legal. New last name and everything. Publicly at least. Still waiting on all of the changes to be processed everywhere. Some places take longer than others.”

“Huh. Explains why he’s been so mellow lately.”

“You haven’t experienced getting him out of bed in the morning. But yes, for the most part he is pretty mellowed out.”

“Interesting. I have to go meet Mack in the dark room. Bye guys.”

“Bye Tyler.” We all said. There was an awkward pause.

“Did… that really just happen?” Clay asked.

“I think so?” Jessica replied.

“Maybe he realizes he doesn’t have a say in who I spend the rest of my life with.” I muttered.

“Well he’s not exactly your best friend in the world Addy.” Alex said. I shrugged and saw Zach coming towards us. Hopefully he takes this okay.

“You got freaking married and didn’t tell anyone?” He asked, immediately after arriving at my locker.

“She told me.” Justin offered. I shot him a glare. Thanks for the help dipwad.

“Yeah.” I said, lamely. It’s not like I could deny it at this point.

“Why? I mean, he’s Monty.”

“Thanks Zach. I hadn’t noticed the identity of my husband.” I replied.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, you married Monty Addison.”

“And your point is, what exactly?”

“He’s nothing like you.” Clay said.

“Which brings me back to, your point is…?”

“He isn’t the relationship and marriage type.”

“Well, evidently, he is. I have the diamond and the paperwork to prove it,” showing them my ring to prove my point. I was slowly growing tired of their loosely veiled distaste for my choice.

“He’s an asshole to like everyone. He doesn’t like any- did he pick that?” Jess stated.

“Yeah, he did. I was there. He saw it and knew it was the one.” Justin replied.

“It’s so… nice. And big.”

“Thank you? And it’s not that big. Its only point seven five carats. He said she said something about the setting making it look bigger than it actually is.”

“Wow. I didn’t have him pegged as a guy who knew diamonds.”

“I don’t think he did. But he knows how to pick ‘em.”

“I’ll say. Anyway, as I was saying. He’s an ass. To everybody. All the time.”

“Not to me.”

“Well you’re apparently married to him.” Clay grumbled, haughtily.

“Even before we got together, he wasn’t an ass to me. We weren’t friends by any means, but he wasn’t really that much of an ass.”

“Lucky you.”

“Clay, lay-” Justin started.

“Okay. If you’re just going to be a dick about this, then we don’t need to have this conversation Clay.” My friends blinked at me in shock. Clay looked at me harshly for a second before coming to his senses and looking at me like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“I’m sorry Addison. This is just kind of a big shock. You got married and didn’t tell any of us. Yes Justin, we know you knew.”

“I told you not to be an ass to her about this the other night. I told you she wouldn’t take any of your crap.”

“How did this all happen?”

“It’s a long story.”

“When did this all happen?”

“One of Bryce’s parties in tenth grade….” I trailed off.

“You’ve been together for almost two years and never said anything to us?

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever let us tell you you cant keep a secret again.” Zach said.

“I still don’t understand why Addison?” Alex asked, trying to be civil but I could hear the undercurrent of anger in his tone.

“I can’t really explain why I chose him Alex. Sometimes there is no explanation. I didn’t start dating him at sixteen like ‘I’m going to marry this guy.’ It was just fun in the beginning. The forbidden-ness of it all was thrilling. And then the longer it went on, I started to think that maybe this was right for me. For us.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I mean, I wanted to. Until we told Justin I had every intention of telling you. But then I was hit with a reality check. Realistically, Justin only took it as well as he did because I’m his best friend. I knew you guys would be mad and freak out, just like you are now. Don’t even try to deny it. You would have.”

“Even still. We would have been mad, but we would have come around Addy.” Clay said.

“Really? It took like eight years for you to like Justin and he literally had to live with you for that to happen. You expect me to believe that you would have been okay with me dating Monty?”

“Maybe…?” He squeaked.

“Exactly. So it was just easier not telling you guys. Or anyone aside from our parents and select people.”

“You told his parents?”

“Yup.” I said, checking my watch. “But that is a story for another day, I’m afraid. I have to get to class.”

“It better be a story for another day. I want to hear how that went.” Alex said, excited by the prospect of that story. That wasn’t the exciting one yet, bud.

“So does this mean things are okay for now?” My friends nodded.

“Yeah. I take it you’re sitting with him at lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“We will see you around Mrs. de la Cruz.” Zach smirked. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Not my mother-in-law. Addy is fine.” With that, Justin and I walked away. It wasn’t the best conversation and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was better than I think any of us were anticipating.

People stared at me in class and I heard a couple of comments that weren’t worth repeating about various aspects of our relationship, but it could have been a much worse few hours. When I arrived in the cafeteria and made my way over to where Monty and the rest of the team had congregated, I could tell something was up. Monty was sitting, his leg elevated on the seat across from him, wearing a very displeased look on his face. The group looked up at me and back to him.

“What?” I asked.

“I think he grabbed your lunch by mistake.” Charlie chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” I asked again as I sat down and pulled out what I thought was my lunch. When I opened it and saw a slice of pepperoni, I understood what the problem was. “Oh, I see. I’ll trade you if I can have your fruit snacks.”

“You don’t like fruit snacks. And technically they’re our fruit snacks.”

“Exactly why I said your fruit snacks. You hide them in the cart and think I don’t notice until I make lunch. Here.” I said as we traded lunches. I smiled as a pulled out my leftovers.

“What is that?” Garrison asked, staring at the slice.

“Vegetable pizza.”

“And he looked like you tried to feed him wet dog food because, why exactly?”

I turned to Monty, “would you like to explain why you don’t like it? Or shall I?”

“No. It’s fine. I just don’t like it.”

I laughed out loud at his response, “it’s because it has vegetables on it. He doesn’t like vegetables.”

“I like vegetables. Sometimes.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat them once in a while, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He sighed and chucked a fruit snack at me. I turned to his friends.

“I married a nineteen-year-old child.”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

His teammates and I chatted for a while pleasantly until Bryce showed up. They seemed to take a very quick liking to me. “Hey guys. Addison.”

“Walker.” I replied as the kids around table chimed in heys of varying tone.

“So, it really wasn’t Justin. Didn’t think you would let Monty here get within ten feet of you by yourself, let alone be close enough to have-.”

I squeezed Monty’s hand tightly to keep him in check and he winced. Michael opened his mouth to step in, but I beat him to it, “wasn’t your business then. Not your business now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re only so interested in my sex life because you wish it was you.”

Garrison choked on his water and coughed while the other boys around him watched our interaction with various looks of shock and amusement on their faces. “Interested in sex… with you?”

“You heard me.”

“I’d think long and hard about your next comment Bryce.” Monty told him, darkly.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m your brother.”

“And she’s my wife.”

“Dude what about bros before-.”

Once again, he was cut off, this time by Charlie. “Are you that fucking dumb? Are you trying to get your ass kicked?” Bryce simply looked at him, his head tilted slightly.

“He can’t do anything to me. His leg is screwed. Sorry you got hurt by the way.”

“Awe Scotty. He thought I meant Monty. Isn’t that sweet?”

“The sweetest.” Scott replied, holding his hand to his heart.

“No. I don’t mean him. I meant her.”

Bryce looked at me, sitting sweetly slowly eating my granola bar. “Uh huh. Her. Right.” My gaze turned dark and my brow arched, threateningly.

“Try me. I may be small, but that just makes it easier for me to hit you where it hurts.”

He gulped. “O-okay. Sorry. Comments will be kept to myself.”

Monty turned his attention to me and smiled lovingly. I smiled brightly back at him and watched as he picked up one of Michael’s grapes and chucked it at me. I barely had time to move to catch it in my mouth to avoid being hit in the eye. “Why you little….”

“You love me.”

“I do.” I sighed, dreamily. While I had him caught off guard, I threw his fruit snack back at him. I hit his head and landed in his lap. He turned and looked at me, a look of fake shock and anger on his face.

“And she calls him a child.” Garrison muttered.

“You should see them when they try to decide on a movie or tv show to watch. It’s literally like watching five-year-old kids argue over their favourite toy.” Scott muttered back.

“Or when she tries to get him out of bed in the mornings. She has to literally bribe him sometimes. Calls me other times to physically remove him from the bed.” Charlie added.

“Almost called you this morning actually.” I said.

“I wasn’t that bad. And you were asking a lot of me Addy.”

“Montgomery. I asked you to sit up and put pants on.”

“I had surgery on my leg Addison.”

“And yet, you had no issue putting pants on when we left the hospital darling.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t the morning then.”

I looked at his friends, a dumbstruck look on my face. “Everyday. The only time he didn’t object to getting up was the one day on our honeymoon I wanted to sleep in.”

“I was promised Curio Coffee waffles. The way you and your parents raved about them, I assumed they were something special. They were by the way.”

“I said nothing about waffles at five in the morning on a Saturday.” Monty grumbled unintelligibly in response as the bell rang.

“Fuck. If I knew lunch with you two was going to be this entertaining, I would have made you tell people a long time ago.” Scott laughed.

“You’ve been keeping a gem from us Monty. You’re welcome to sit and share stories anytime Addy.” Garrison told me.