one shots | stydia

O'Broden|| Irritation and Complaints.

"Okay, we need to go to Starbucks and pick up the order for Arden and Tyler as they're running late." Dylan said, picking up his keys and throwing on his jacket.

Holland appeared, she waddled as her feet was parted as far as she could, bearing a weight that hung on her stomach. Her hand supported her back. The feeling was like she got kicked in between the legs.

She had a pain and irritated look on her face, her eyebrows furrowed so much, she was destined for the wrinkles that formed to become permanent.

"Why?" She grumbled, lowering herself down on the couch slowly, grunting as she finally lay her head back.

"Because we are their friends, Holl. I can go on my own if you want?" Dylan said, mood slightly changing to disappointed. Holland figured, as she glared at him.

"No." she replied simply. "Nope. I'll go. I'll lug myself down the street with stupid fucking paparazzi taking pictures of me while I'm having a hot flush." Holland pushed herself up, face scrunching up as she felt like laying back and sleeping.

She was 8 and a half months pregnant, after all.

"You okay? Do you need help?" Dylan asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Dyl, I love you. Though if you come any closer I'm gonna have to punch you in the throat." Holland said, literally waddling towards the coat peg to hang her thin backpack strap over one shoulder.

Dylan smiled, hand escorted to her back as she led the way out the front door. Holland stopped in the front porch and faced him. She felt sorry for him and her attitude towards him has been appalling.

Though sometimes she really can't help it.

She pecked him on the lips as she patted his chest.

"I'm sorry. I love you."

"I love you, too." Dylan replied, grabbing her hand as they slowly started walking down the street. Sun glasses was prepped on Holland's nose as paparazzi started taking photos of them from round the corners of random houses and buildings.

"Babe." Holland said.

"Hmm." Dylan replied back, staring at the road in front of him, pretending to be completely unaware about the flashing lights.

"If you keep breathing like that, I'm walking away."

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

"You know, walking around really helps speed up the labour process." Dylan said, arm slung around Holland's shoulders.

"You've been doing your research?" Holland asked surprised. She smiled looking up at him, her nose grazing his shoulder lightly.

"Of course. I'm prepared for this little girl." Dylan said, poking Holland's swollen stomach.

After 10 minutes of waiting for their name to be called, they walked out of Starbucks to be blinded by flashing lights.

"Holland, when are you due?"

"Dylan, why did you and Britt brake up so long ago?"

"Holland, you've got the pregnancy glow! What are you gonna name the baby?"

"Girl or boy?"

Questions were fired as they walked through, smiles on their faces and Starbucks cups in Dylan's hands. One of Holland's hands were on her lower back, as one rested on her huge stomach. Dylan walked in front of Holland, protective and leading the way down the street.

Police then came, secluding the couple as they walked towards their home.

Tears started to prick Holland's eyes as they entered the privacy of their own home. Dylan quickly put down the cups and hugged her lightly, back arched because of the bump.

She could pop any day.

"Hey, hey Holland look at me. Why are you crying?" Dylan whispered, rubbing her back soothingly. She closed her eyes as she enjoyed his touch.

"I'm just so uncomfortable." Holland said, pulling away and tugging on her shirt. "I'm so hot, I'm gassy. I have boob sweat, my boobs even ache so much I struggle to put a bra on. I didn't even put one on today. They're just so heavy. I need to pee constantly, like fuck she's pushing on my bladder. I've pulled my muscle in my thigh, so I can't walk properly. Did I mention that I have an incredible pain in my lover back it feels like I've been stabbed with an old, rusty knife. Eh, and don't get me started on my hair. It's getting greasy everyday, which means I have to wash it everyday which is a colossal waste of my time. I feel like I wanna cry if I drop a spoon or spill a drop of milk or run my baths too hot. You know me, Dylan. No bath can be too hot, I need to be scolded if I need to reach my satisfactory needs. My vagina feels so painful, it's like a fucking diver kicked their massive, swim shoes up there. Oh, and my feet look like balloons. That's why I'm crying baby, okay?"

Dylan was baffled, jaw hung low as he continuously blinked.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this. This fucking sucks to watch you this uncomfortable."

"Dylan."

"No; I wish I was a seahorse. You know the males carry the babies? Yeah."

"Dylan-"

"Then, you would have none of this pain and you'll just be floating away, like a happy fucking seahorse and not having any - any boob sweat!"

"Dylan!" Holland finally shouted.

"Hmm?"

Holland looked down to a great puddle of water below her, wide eyed - she looked up and smiled.

"My water broke. It's time."