#THEN felt so nauseous on the drive home i had to pull over and gag into the gutter for a few mins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angry-geese · 3 years ago

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OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #nanami kento #not sfw #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #cw sex pollen #cw dub con #i know im posting this kinda early but im impatient and i just want to post this now

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years ago

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A Thorn In The Side - Gojo x Reader

Summary: Infatuation enduring from high school is more of a problem than you or he think (~3.4k words).

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, yandere, wlw mention, gojo is a pos

A/N: Part of @suedebunn‘s Hanahaki collab!

When the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to have ever lived wakes up in the early am with the sensation of thorns scratching his throat and fullness in his stomach, he’s baffled.

Even more so when he doubles over in bed to cough profusely to the point of near emesis, shocking for a man who rarely gets sick. He stares blankly at a pillow covered in droplets of flecks of red, and his eyes widen with trepidation, until he realizes those large drops strewn across his bed come from flowers rather than blood.

He must be dreaming, Gojo Satoru tells himself, but the satiny feel of the scarlet petals between his fingertips is very real.

Or perhaps a curse.

“So you expect me to diagnose you over the phone?”

Shoko pulled a drag of her cigarette as though for dramatic effect, blowing it out with a sigh, but continued to listen. She had to be up early anyway and ignoring Gojo would only make him more annoying in her experience.

“So what are your symptoms again?” she asked.

“Apparently my insides are trying to match my beautiful outsides~” he sang.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and as though he could see her, Gojo laughed loudly.

“In all seriousness, I’m turning into a garden. Coughing up flowers apparently.”

“Coughing up flowers, huh?” She leaned a little further against her balcony, her eyes setting on the early morning sunrise she could view from her high rise apartment. “Do you think it’s some type of curse?”

“It’s… different,” he replied, somewhat noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s cursed energy, actually.”

This was unexpected.

“What else do you feel?”

“Uneasy…”

It was Shoko’s turn to laugh. An interesting choice of words coming from him.

“Any ideas?” Gojo insisted.

“I mean, it could be some kind of undetectable curse. I’d know if I got to see you… How does your heart feel when you cough up the flowers?”

“It races.”

“Your mind?”

“Also races… lightheaded.”

“Any thoughts?”

“None.”

“As expected.” she teased, laughing again until she realized that for once, Gojo was silent on the other end of the phone. She scratched her head, then ran her fingers through her fingertips.

“Come in at 2pm today, okay? Don’t be late.”

---

“Well, you’re right,” Shoko stated, stepping back from the examination table, and crossing her arms as she set herself down on a stool to formulate her assessment.

Her friend, already graced with the palest of color palettes, did actually look ill, dark circles prominent enough to match hers marring his porcelain skin. He sat, legs spread apart, and leaning onto the weight of his hands besides him, raising an eyebrow quizzically..

“It’s not cursed energy, alright,” she said, with a sigh. She stretched out her hand.

“You brought the sample, right?”

Gojo, uncharacteristically a bit listless, tossed her the bag of vomited petals from this morning, covered in now dry saliva and other fluids. Not batting an eyelash, Shoko slipped on a pair of gloves and felt inside the bag, petals crumbling at her fingertips.

Definitely not cursed energy. She placed the bag on a disorganized counter behind her, making a mental note of scrutinizing it further under a microscope.

“Ideas?” Gojo asked after he’d decided that the time he’d given her to think was enough. It turned out the idea of being sick irritated him more than he expected.

The very idea of being vulnerable made him slightly nauseous.

Shoko let out a chuckle that sounded more nervous than she had intended.

“My only other thought is Hanahaki disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Gojo repeated.

“Yeah,” she stated. Crossing her legs, she relaxed into her stool further as she watched the young man carefully. “Who’s the unlucky one?”

“You mean?”

“Who’s the unfortunate soul you’re in love with?” She asked again, waiting for his response. The truth was that she was quite shocked at the idea of Gojo being afflicted with Hanahaki, that he of all people could have such a pure, destructive form of love given his track history.

She’d known him long enough to know that his body count was near ridiculous.

He tilted his head, then burst into laughter.

“Myself, duh.”

“Well, auto-Hanahaki isn’t a thing, but I suppose if it was, you’d be the one to be afflicted with it.”

She decided not to press further. “Whoever it is, I’d recommend you settle your feelings as soon as possible,” she added. “People don’t usually die from this but you look surprisingly like shit so I’d be careful.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, hopping off the table and pulling back on his shirt.

Settling his feelings may be more complicated than either of the two of them expected.

---

You were in the middle of your drive home when Shoko’s name finally flashed on your dashboard. Grinning, you picked up on the car speaker, mischief in your voice.

“It’s 7:03 and you promised me you’d call at 7 sharp, babe. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re going to hold 3 minutes against me?” Her sultry voice filled your ears as you made the last turn between the grocery store and your apartment, and you hoped she’d be inside your home waiting for you so that you could actually hold something tangible against her.

“I did say I wasn’t going to tolerate you being late for anything anymore, didn’t I?” You teased.

“Bold declaration for someone who isn’t even home yet,” Shoko retorted.

In minutes, you were walking through the door, arms charged with bags full of groceries for dinner you’d planned to cook together. Shoko greeted you with a kiss on the forehead as you placed them on the counter.

“Did you miss me?”

You did, but you stuck out your tongue at her instead. Her hand intertwined with yours briefly before you separated to unpack items for dinner.

“I promise I’ll be less busy,” she offered as the two of you worked in tandem. Your stomach was already growling, so the sooner you had food on the table, the better.

“It’s no problem,” you replied, and you meant it only half-heartedly. It’s true she was less busy than a regular civilian doctor, but it seemed recently that her clinic was getting overrun with more and more curse victims. Things had been bad recently in the world, you figured.

You were happy to step back from the world of sorcery, but small reminders like these persisted.

“Did you still manage to fit Gojo in today?”

She had complained earlier today that Gojo always managed to make a bad day worse.

“Mmm,” is what she offered over the sound of chopping vegetables. You understood that she couldn’t say more, on top of the fact that any discussion of Gojo was already a sore subject. It didn’t have to be, and it shouldn’t have been, but this was what it was.

“Hope he’s okay,” you offered, as you turned on the stove.

“He’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice now quieter than usual.

---

The first and last time Gojo fell in love was in the spring of his third year, he suddenly recalled in the middle of a tryst, as an upsettingly subpar blowjob allowed his mind to wander. The young woman whose gags sounded almost theatrical when compared to the amount of pleasure he was actually receiving was starting to get on his nerves, but instead he took matters in his own hands, wrapping her long ponytail around his wrist before guiding the back of her head so she took him deeper.

If she was gonna choke, she should commit to it.

He’d fallen in love with you at first sight. It was a strange feeling for him to immediately be enamored with someone upon first glance instead, having always been the recipient of many an awe-filled or fawning look.

You were a transfer from the sister school, already a rare occurrence, and what was even rarer was the fact that you both had little affinity to jujutsu and little interest in getting better. One could wonder why you even showed up in the first place, much less why you’d moved from one school to the other.

You’d quit as expected just before graduation, but not before you caught his eye.

“You’re pretty shitty at this,” he’d remarked, attempting to win you over with humor when he’d been assigned to you for both orientation and possible tutoring. “Of course, you can always ask me for help,” he added, flashing pearly whites at you.

He was the opposite of successful in wooing you.

“I suppose since this comes easy to you, this is just funny, right?” You’d quipped.

Your words cut more than both you and he anticipated, but it didn’t exactly matter. You were not interested in him, the way he was interested in you.

But Shoko was different.

You became fast friends and upon your departure from the technical college, you’d remained in contact despite withdrawing from everyone else related to magic.

Even if Gojo tried many times to either bring you back to this world you’d left behind or be part of your new one, you’d rebuffed him every time. Harshly.

“I don’t know why you expect everyone to worship you,” was the last thing you’d said to him. “I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be part of this life,” you’d insisted. “Why would I change my mind just because you asked me to?”

You were right.

And yet you loved Shoko.

The young woman whose name he’d forgotten’s face was now pressed against his pubic bone and she now began to squirm, slapping and scratching at him like some kind of trapped animal as she struggled to breathe, reminding him that he’d daydreamed for too long.

“Sorry,” he offered, as he released his grip, leaving her to sputter and choke. Looking at her, knowing that she was not you suddenly made him want to choke himself, to bring forth that impromptu garden of unrequited feelings.

He patted her on the back gingerly, and once it looked like she’d restabilized, pulled her in for another kiss.

If only her lips tasted like yours.

---

Shoko’s hand glided against the curve of your hips, taking in the image of you sleeping softly on your side, facing her. She dipped down to kiss your nose; it was the only time the fact that she had such an issue with sleep benefited her, this ability to almost always wake up before you.

You looked incredibly peaceful while sleeping, and she had to admit this angelic view of you was even better than your features twisted in a pleasured mewl (not that it wasn’t a close battle).

There was a nagging concern in the pit of her stomach, however.

Gojo suffering from unrequited love could be a problem, if the object of his affections did happen to be you. But it had been years ago that he’d pursued you unsuccessfully, why present now?

Why present to her office of all people? Gojo could be inconsiderate, but not to this extent.

But what if he didn’t know that this was what he was feeling? Suppressed feelings taking root and morphing themselves into the tangible he couldn’t ignore?

She sat up, resting her back against the backboard, the lack of a cigarette between her lips being palliated with the gnaw of her thumbnail.

It couldn’t be. Not you.

Please, not you.

---

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Shoko checked in about a week later.

Gojo didn’t share that he’d spent the entire morning in a coughing fit of petals, now definitely streaked with blood, and the entire last night vomiting enough flowers into the toilet that it had overflowed.

He didn’t comment on the entire scarlet sage plants with large green leaves that threatened to sprout from every orifice, not just his throat, but his ears and nostrils, possibly from behind his eyes.

He didn’t know what was next, only that it was getting worse.

The constant fire in the pit of his stomach, the shivers, the chills, the incessant flash of you running through his mind, your name moaned in the darkness, his body drenched in sweat.

The fact that he knew it was because he loves you and cannot find an alternative for you.

The fact that he must have you, and only you.

“Has it gotten better or worse?” Shoko asked.

“I’m fine,” Gojo reassured her, masking the exhaustion in his voice, and she made the mistake of believing him.

---

You awoke in darkness with an icy cold searing into your skin.

It took you a moment to let your eyes adjust to the light and for your body to resume the motor control it had briefly relinquished in sleep before you could reorient yourself. You were laying on ground of some sort, maybe hardwood which implied that you were in some kind of building.

Your head throbbed viciously as you shifted slowly to a sitting position and you almost expected there to be blood as you ran your hands over the back of your head, checking for injury. But there was nothing, just the normal feel of your hair, and the steady thump of your temples in time with your pounding heart.

Looking around, your eyes soon fixed to the low light, not actual darkness to center on a figure in the center of the room.

You let out a gasp of surprise.

Gojo.

Not only had it been a while and he was the last person you expected to see, he looked stranger than he ever had.

He sat perched on a chair backwards, chin leaning on the top of the backrest. His head was tilted, and he watched you warily but fixedly through eyes that looked sunken into their orbits. Their clear blue was still sharp in the darkness.

His skin had taken on an almost ghostly cast to match his hair, and he was thinner than you remembered as though he had been slowly withering away since the last time you saw him. That was ages ago.

Your limbs froze in anticipation. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize that whatever was happening or was about to happen was bad.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, unmoving. If he weren’t so extraordinarily fatigued, he would have sat up straighter in his chair and offered you a smile. You were still as pretty as the day he first laid eyes on you, after all. What a welcome sight.

“I guess I missed you,” he responded instead, quietly.

Your teeth gritted as you flared up in indignation.

“Excuse me?”

He cut you off with a loud, exasperated sigh, mustering the little bit of energy he had left to run a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I thought I’d forgotten myself, but it turns out that I’m being betrayed by my own body.”

As though to add effect, a coughing fit began just at the end of his sentence, and you watched as he spat flowers into the palm of his hand, lowering them for you to see.

“And it seems like you’re the cause of this.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of bloody petals falling through his fingertips and hitting the ground.

He was completely out of his mind.

“I…,” you shakily got yourself up to your feet, not letting your gaze leave Gojo for a second. He didn’t get out of the chair, but he did shift so that he leaned back in the seat, a wicked smile on his face.

“You...?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat. “Where the hell am I and how did I get here?”

He finally did get up, although it was done in a dramatic, strained movement. He really had lost weight, you noticed, picking up the flash of pale wrists before he shoved his hands in his pocket.

“I know it sounds crazy but apparently, according to your girlfriend, I’m suffering from lovesickness.”

He bared more of his teeth now, looking more like a grimace than a grin by this time. “I didn’t believe it either, but then I started seeing you in my mind every single waking moment.”

In the split second it took for you to blink, he had crossed the distance between you, so that he was now in your personal space, the palm of his hand inappropriately caressing your face, as tender as you’d expect from Shoko.

And you immediately jumped back and backhanded him as hard as you could.

The crack of your hand was loud and exaggerated, reverberating in the room. For a moment, you froze in shock, surprised the slap had actually landed, before shaking out your now burning hand and following up with a hiss.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

Gojo’s icy blue eyes glint, demonic in their delight.

“That’s the feisty bitch I remember.”

---

It was nearing 24 hours since you’d failed to reply to Shoko’s text and the normally collected woman was terribly anxious.

She’d stayed at work late, and still, not a single message from you.

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind returned.

What if it were you?

Gojo couldn’t be that insane, could he?

When she entered your home to find traces of red salvia scattered throughout your home, it only confirmed her fears.

---

“I don’t want to do this either. I mean it.”

It was hard to believe him when he seemed to savor every brush of the lips as he trailed kisses along your inner thighs, spread open with the force of his hands. Gojo had always been deceptively strong, even now, when it looked like he was wilting just as much as the flowers he coughed up.

Your wrists were bound to a fixed point at the head of a foreign bed, and your ankles to the bedposts anteriorly to prevent you from fighting. Not that you would have been able to fight back anyway, but the severe fatigue permeating his very bones made him less willing to risk anything.

When his lips made it to your center to circle your clit, you writhed in disgust, forcing back the sighs of pleasure that would inevitably ensure.

“Y-you can’t - ah - make me love you…”

Gojo paused the swishing of his tongue to give you a look that reeked enough of apathy that it was almost startling.

“I’m aware, but there’s no harm in trying.”

---

“Where the fuck is she?”

Satoru had the ostentatiousness within him to receive the phone call on speaker, so that you could hear Shoko beg to find out your whereabouts.

“She’s with me,” he replied, calmly to her, holding the phone in one hand and pumping fingers in and out of your slippery cunt with the other.

By this time, Gojo had gotten tired of your expletives which no longer retained the initial cute charm, so your screams for help were muffled by a gag over your own wet panties shoved into your mouth.

He’d been at this for hours.

There was a pause on the phone from Shoko’s end that sounded like something crashing to the ground, maybe a plate breaking.

Her tone changed immediately.

“P-please don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at you who glared back at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked even prettier when you were so totally helpless.

“I would never,” he added.

The pump of his fingers slowed but did not stop.

“This won’t fix you,” Shoko warned, almost in a low protective hiss, her own voice breaking. “This won’t fix anything, you bastard.”

He cut off the phone abruptly, and let out a sigh before shifting his attention back to you.

“Where were we?”

---

Maybe if I pretend, he’ll stop?

Or will he continue? Will I just affirm that he won?

His thrusts were relentless, as was the constant tugging at your hair, the teeth sinking into every inch of your skin, the moans and groans whispered into your ears or your bosom.

A violation in every sense of the word.

You were running out of tears.

The fact that it’s pointless, you and he both know it. Your true love knows it, that this is just an excuse to get back at you. For what? Rejection?

He would die anyway. You would never return his feelings, if there even truly were any.

He continued to rut into you, and flowers started to stain every inch of your bodies, covering them in a deep scarlet.

Red. Red. Red.

Blood. Rage. Power. Passion.

You probably didn’t need the restraints anymore. You had no fight left in you.

Just the satisfaction, however small, that regardless of what he did to you, he would still eventually succumb to nature and perish in a bed of putrid efflorescence.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #collab fic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #shoko x reader #tw noncon #mae.writing

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Words: 9,067 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The prison Warnings: mentions of anxiety, language Summary: Y/N falls ill on a run and Daryl worries about what's wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

You leaned back against the chain link fence as Daryl pulled out the bolt cutters and cut the chain around the gate. “Okay. Umm… canned pears,” you said, glancing over at the archer. He peered up at you through his curtain of wavy brown hair.

“Pears? Nah. Peaches.”

You straightened up as he heaved the gate open. “I prefer pears.”

“Canned pears are disgusting,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Fine! If we find some, more for me!” you said. He slung his crossbow back over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit and started to lead the way toward the building. You followed just slightly behind him, fingering the hilt of your knife.

When you reached the small loading dock, Daryl gave you a serious glance and set down his duffel bag. He pulled the bolt cutters out again. You nodded and he banged them harshly on the closed overhead door. You both strained your hearing after the metal rattling ceased. Nothing. It was silent. You grinned at him.

“Well, that’s good news,” you said, relaxing slightly.

“There could still be some in there stuck somewhere. Don’t let your guard down,” he said, clipping the lock off the mechanism keeping the door shut.

“You know I don’t let my guard down,” you countered.

“Mmm,” he hummed, focused on the task at hand. He replaced the bolt cutters in the duffel and checked the magazine of his pistol before sliding it back into the holster at his side.

“French-cut green beans,” you said suddenly.

His blue eyes shot back up to your face. “Green beans?” he repeated. “And what the hell does ‘French-cut’ mean?”

You laughed. “They’re, like, thin sliced lengthwise. Julienne cut.”

Daryl just kept staring at you like you were nuts. “Juli-what? Green beans,” he said again. You grinned. “I love canned green beans! Maybe even more than fresh ones… although I don’t think that’s true anymore since you can’t find fresh anything these days…”

He let out a scoff of a laugh and shook his head, turning back to his crossbow and fitting a bolt into the flight groove. “Yer nuts, ya know that?”

“You like it,” you said, lifting your boot and poking the toe into his butt. It elicited the exact response you wanted, which was a look he meant to be stern, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away his mutual amusement.

“Sometimes,” he said, straightening up.

“Well, what are you hoping we find in there? Besides canned peaches.”

He shrugged. “I dunno.” He reached for the door latch, getting ready to heave it open.

Your hand shot out and landed on his arm, stopping him. “Nuh uh! That’s not a good answer!”

He sighed, taking in your insistent and expectant expression. “How ‘bout a giant jar of garlic dill pickles?”

You nodded, pleased with his answer. “Much better. Okay. Ready,” you said, unsheathing your knife. Daryl took in the playful light that lingered in your eyes as you readied yourself for whatever you were about to find inside.

He heaved the overhead door open and the two of you stepped into the dim shipment receiving area, shoulder to shoulder. You both clicked on your flashlights and swept them over the room. Daryl led the way to a door in the far wall. “Bet this goes to the storage area,” he said quietly. You nodded, a little anxious, shifting your weight from one hip to the other.

Daryl knocked loudly on the door and again you both strained your hearing, listening for the tell-tale moaning and clawing of the dead. It was intensely quiet. You and Daryl exchanged a look and he reached for the door handle. You gave him a nod and he pushed into the next room.

You were hoping to find the stock of emergency supplies that had been put together shortly before the outbreak became all-consuming. They were to be sent as hurricane relief. But instead of the hoped-for stockpile, you found a mostly empty stockroom instead.

“Shit.” You stepped farther inside and kicked at a piece of discarded shrink wrap on the floor. “I guess someone else heard the same tip we did,” you said, shining your light over the empty shelves.

“Mmm. Or got real damn lucky,” Daryl said, his crossbow still raised. His light illuminating a nearby doorway into the main store area. “C’mon. Let’s just check out here.”

You followed behind him with your flashlight up and you hadn’t moved too far into the room before a wall of horrendous odor hit you. “Oh my God,” you said, pressing a hand over your nose and mouth.

Daryl’s light landed on the decomposing scattered bodies of walkers. “Somebody cleared the place out,” he said, crouching down to look at the inflicted wounds. “They’re all shot.”

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured, gagging at the smell. You doubled over and heaved a few breaths, struggling to stop the bile that was suddenly churning in your stomach.

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder, climbing to his feet when he saw how pale you looked. There were beads of sweat across your forehead. “Ya alright?” he asked, rushing over to you, overwhelmed with concern. He gently rubbed your back.

You were afraid if you spoke you were going to vomit so you waved a hand at him and did your best to steel yourself. When you felt like you could talk, you tried to straighten up. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. It’s just the smell—Ugh, it hit me hard. I think I just need some air…”

Daryl was staring at you with a deeply furrowed brow. “Ya sure?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” You felt another wave of nausea and shut your eyes against it. “I’ll be outside… Just finish looking around in here and I’ll—I’ll meet you out back,” you said. Daryl sweetly grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. You met his blue eyes and saw they were darkened with concern. “I’m okay.”

The archer watched you retreat out into the fresh air, puzzled over the situation. He’d never seen you react to the smell of rotting bodies or gore that way. Hell, he’d seen you open up a walker’s stomach to check for meal contents. He’d seen you put down countless numbers of dead ones with an unhesitating knife to the skull. Just then he heard the unmistakable sound of you retching outside.

“Y/N?” He rushed outside to see you doubled over on the pavement a short distance from the door.

You straightened up at the sound of his bootsteps, your knees feeling a little shaky.

“You’re sick,” he said, a shadow growing on his face. “We gotta go. Get ya home.”

You looked miserable. “It’s just a stomach thing. It’s not a big deal,” you said, pulling out your water and rinsing out your mouth.

“Maybe it’s somethin’ ya ate. What’d ya have this mornin’?” he asked with anxiety.

You shook your head. “Can’t be that.”

“Food poisonin’? Why not?”

“Because I didn’t have anything,” you said, shoving your canteen back in your bag. “Did you finish up in there?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, but don’t matter. I’m sure whoever put down all those walkers cleaned it out. Ain’t nothin’ gonna be in there anyway. C’mon. Let’s just get ya home,” he said, taking your pack from you and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Daryl, we came all this way. Don’t you want to—”

“Nah. What I want is to get ya home. You’re sick. C’mon,” he insisted. His face was clouded with worry as you wiped a shaky hand over your brow, surprised at the clamminess of your own skin.

You nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

You were still a little nauseous the whole drive back to the prison. You had the window down so the fresh air was on your face which helped some, but the churning in your stomach never really stopped. Daryl kept glancing over at you the whole time he was driving, checking the color of your face, watching carefully for any sign that you were worsening.

He reached over and rested his hand on your knee. You caught his blue eyes and smiled weakly. “Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing. Probably just the stagnant air in there or something,” you said, trying to reassure him.

He wasn’t convinced, but he nodded.

He felt better as soon as he had you back behind the safe walls of the prison. His hand rested lightly on your lower back as you both headed up toward the main building. Daryl spotted Hershel and Carol in the yard and stopped short. “Hey—I’m gonna grab Hershel to come take a look at ya. Go on and lay down,” he said, inclining his chin toward the building.

“I’m fine,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re really making too much of this,” you said.

“Maybe. But better safe than sorry,” he said.

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, conceding to his sweet concern. “See you in a few?”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before he jogged off toward Hershel.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the space the two of you had claimed, Hershel and Carol in tow. You were laying on the mattress with his poncho draped over you. You looked tired, but Daryl was relieved to see that some of the color looked like it had come back into your face.

Hershel pulled up a chair as you sat up. “Feeling a bit under the weather? Let’s see if you’ve got a fever. After having kids, every parent turns into a human thermometer,” he said. He pressed a hand to your forehead. “No fever. Any other symptoms? Headache? Weakness? Feeling dizzy?”

You shook your head. “No. A bit tired. And just had some nausea.”

“She was pale and clammy before,” Daryl drawled, watching with worry. “She looks better now.”

Hershel nodded. “I see.”

“Really, I think it was just the smell of those rotting walkers. The air in there was heavy with decomp. It was like I could frickin’ taste it. Ugh, it was horrible,” you said. Your stomach turned again a little as you thought about it and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Hershel nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Hershel said.

Daryl shifted. “Ya sure?” the archer pressed him.

“I’m sure. Why don’t you go on and help Rick with that new water line? We’ll just get her some water and something to eat. Make sure she rests. But I don’t think there’s anything troubling.”

Daryl considered you for a moment and you gave him a smile. He seemed to feel reassured and he nodded. “Alright.” He crossed the space to you quickly and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you one more parting glance. You smiled at him again and watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

“So, I’m okay?” you asked, adjusting Daryl’s poncho over your lap. You watched Hershel and Carol exchange a look. You stomach twisted. “What? What is it?”

“It was the smell of the walkers that set off the nausea?” Carol asked.

“Yeah…” You stared at the two of them, perplexed. “What, you’re surprised that a bunch of rotting corpses in a closed-up store with no ventilation made me puke?”

“Well… a little, to be honest,” Hershel said gently.

You gave him a questioning look and then stared at Carol.

“We’re not saying that isn’t understandable. It’s just that you have never reacted that way before. And we’ve all seen you deal with rotting corpses before plenty of times,” Carol said. “You’ve never gotten sick.”

“I don’t get what you’re driving at. So, maybe I have a little stomach virus or something?” you said. “Is something wrong with me?”

“No. No, honey,” Carol said, grabbing your hand. She took a breath, her eyes searching your face. “Y/N, could you be… pregnant?”

You froze, a sudden, struck expression on your face. The doctor and Carol watched your eyes go a little round and wide, flitting back and forth as your mind whirred, like you were searching for the answer in the air over their shoulders. “Oh my God.”

Hershel and Carol watched your reaction carefully. You were as still as a stone statue.

“Oh my God,” you said again. “I didn’t even—” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t realize, but—” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “Between never having enough to eat and the constant stress, I didn’t even notice that I—I mean, it’s not like we’ve been trying.”

“So, I’ll take that as a maybe,” Hershel said nodding. There was a spark in his eye as he peered at you kindly. “We’ll see about getting you a test.”

You looked back at Carol, your mouth dropping open and your eyes a little frantic. “Carol, what do I—? Daryl… He—" If it was true, you had no idea how the archer would react. Hell, at that moment you didn’t even know how you would react.

She gave you a concerned smile and squeezed your hand between her palms. “Let’s just take this a step at a time,” she said gently. “Okay?”

You gulped and nodded, suddenly reeling with anxiety. “Okay. Okay…”

Hershel climbed to his feet. “You rest. Carol and I will figure out getting a test for you. Probably just ask Glenn to make a run.” He read the anxiety on your face. “Either way this goes, it’s your decision what happens next,” he said gently. “Daryl is a good man. Try not to worry,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I know… Okay.”

Carol followed Hershel out and you laid down on the mattress, pulling Daryl’s poncho up over you and curling your fingers into it, pressing your face close to the fabric and breathing in his smell. You laid awake for a while with your mind spinning, wondering how he would react to the news. It was always easy to picture your future with Daryl, even during what was seemingly the end of the world, but you’d never thought about the details beyond the two of you being together. And with the history of his parents, what he had gone through, you didn’t know what he would want as far as a family… That had never mattered to you before, but now that you were staring the possibility in the face you were suddenly wrecked with nerves.

Sometime later, the archer arrived to check on you, approaching the space you shared in the lofted area of the cell block quietly, expecting you to be sleeping. But he was surprised to see that, although you were in bed, your eyes were open and you rolled over at the sound of his quiet steps.

He was sweaty and coated in dust and mud that was in various stages of drying. He set his bow down beside the bed. “Ya ain’t sleepin’?” he drawled.

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Fine. Just a little tired.” You smiled at his dirty and somewhat disheveled appearance. “Come here,” you said softly.

He glanced down at his mud-coated clothes and arms, and looked back up at you like you were nuts for that request. “M’filthy,” he said.

“I don’t care,” you replied. “Come here.” You moved over to make room for him to lay down beside you.

Daryl gave you a look, his blue eyes soft, and bent down to at least pull off his boots. He laid down facing you and his heart leapt as you moved into him closely, your arm draping over his waist. You moved your leg until it was tangled between his. He happily breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Ya okay? Really?” he asked, his deep voice a little heavy with gravel—the result of his concern.

You pulled back from him just enough so you could look into his handsome face. “Mhm. I’m fine. Really.”

He nodded and seemed to relax some, draping his arm over you, mirroring your position. You nuzzled into him again and for the first time since Hershel and Carol had left you alone, your mind quieted.

You felt him place a kiss in your hair and you smiled reflexively.

“I need to clean up. I’m gettin’ our bed all muddy,” he said. You felt the rumble of the bass in his voice.

“Can I come?” you asked softly. “I’ve felt gross since the run.”

He glanced down at you and nodded. “If I ever say no to that, ya can assume I’ve lost my damn mind.” He gave you a fond look and smoothed your hair gently. “Ya sure ya just don’t wanna sleep?”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep unless you’re right here anyway.”

Daryl smiled, feeling a swell of affection for you and the way you always made him feel wanted and needed. “Alright. C’mon then.”

So, the two of you made your way to the showers and slipped into a private stall. Daryl pulled you into him under the stream of water and kissed your bare shoulders and up your neck, his arms smoothing over the curves of your sides and landing on the angles of your hips. You scrubbed away the mud from his skin and he smoothed the soapy lather over yours, loving the way his fingers glided over the shape of you. When you were both clean, Daryl shut off the water and wrapped you into him with his big towel causing you to laugh. “Gotcha,” he drawled.

“You do.” Your hand landed flush on his strong chest, your fingers splayed out, and you looked up at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled slightly in a smile. Daryl’s heart jumped every time you looked at him like that. He leaned forward and left a kiss on your nose, watching as your eyelashes fluttered closed.

You looked up at him again as he grabbed your towel for you and you both dried off before pulling on some clean clothes. Daryl watched you running a comb through your hair and studied the graceful movements of your hands. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing your eyes to him immediately. “Ya know I love ya, right?” He still looked a little bashful every time he said it. You didn’t mind.

Your face lit with a gentle smile and you closed the space to him in an instant, clasping his face in both of your hands. “I know. And you know, I love you, right?” you said.

Daryl’s lips found yours and you sank into each other for a moment. “I know,” he said when you broke apart. “C’mon. Ya need somethin’ to eat and then sleep.” He laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the cell block.

After a quiet supper with the rest of the group, the two of you wandered outside into the evening air to enjoy the stars for a few moments before heading up to bed. Daryl sat down on the soft grass and tilted his head at you, beckoning for you to come sit up against him. You sank down in front of him and leaned back. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

One thing Daryl always loved about you was that you didn’t need to fill every silence. Just being close to one another filled each of you up in ways that idle chatter never could. But when he did want to talk, you listened intensely, really listened to him in ways he wasn’t used to. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he said softly, pausing to anxiously chew his bottom lip for a moment, “if the outbreak hadn’t happened, you and I probably never would have even looked at each other.”

“Hmm. How do you mean?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking about how best to explain what he meant. “I was too busy runnin’ around bein’ a piece of shit with Merle. And you—we were in different worlds, ya know. We probably never woulda even had the chance of brushin’ elbows. But if we did,” he shrugged, “I don’t think ya woulda looked at me twice.” He ran his hand down your bare arm, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. “Hell, I didn’t think ya would look at me twice even now…”

You turned and looked over at him, a sad but thoughtful expression on your face. “It’s hard to know, and maybe you’re right, that we would have never met… but if we did, I think I would have seen you just the same way. It’s impossible not to see you, Daryl.” You clasped his face and stroked your thumb along his strong jaw.

His eyes were flickering between yours and he felt that familiar bloom of warmth starting in the center of his chest, right between his lungs, and growing outward. He nudged his nose up at you, in awe of you always, and you acquiesced happily and kissed him. “Let’s get some rest,” he drawled when you finally broke apart. “C’mon.”

Daryl stood and pulled you up, keeping your hand captured in his, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand as you made your way up to bed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When you woke up the next morning you could tell it was much later than you usually slept in. And the fact that Daryl wasn’t beside you and that you hadn’t woken up when he stirred was also unusual. You were a light sleeper, and the two of you generally woke and got up around the same time. This sent your anxiety whirling again.

You got up and threw on some clothes, heading down to the lower level of the cell block and finding Carol and Beth sitting at one of the tables with Judith.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Carol said with a smile.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “Yeah, geez. What time is it? I don’t even know when I last slept in this late.”

She nodded and gave you a pointed look.

Beth only smiled up at you. “You must have needed it then,” she said kindly.

“I guess so…” You glanced around but the cell block was empty. “Where’s Daryl?”

“He’s on the fence with Rick. Little herd piled up overnight,” Carol explained.

“Mmm,” hummed in acknowledgment.

“Maggie and Glenn ran into town for some supplies,” Carol said, shooting you another meaningful look.

You nodded. “Great. Okay.” You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek.

“You want some breakfast? There’s some oatmeal we made,” Beth offered.

You shook your head. “No, I’m alright. I’m gonna go see how things are going on the fence I think.”

“Y/N, you should eat something,” Carol said.

You waved her off, already headed toward the door. “I’m fine! I’ll eat something in a bit!” Truthfully you had no appetite at all. This waiting, the not knowing, was agonizing.

You stepped out into the bright sunshine and set out toward the two figures on the perimeter fence. There was a group of walkers still clawing at the chain link, but it looked like Rick and Daryl had it under control. You grasped the interior chain link and hollered at Daryl and Rick over the mawing and growling sounds. “Best way to start the day?”

They both spun and you grinned at them. They were sweaty and splattered with walker blood, each clutching a metal rod in their hands, the end covered with a bit of gore. You felt a spin of nausea and avoided looking at the crimson dripping from their weapons.

“Morning exercise,” Rick said with a smile. He turned back and continued the task.

“Yer up,” Daryl said with a smile. He came over, wiped his hand on the red rag he always had in his back pocket, and then rested his fingers over yours, which were poking through the fence on his side.

“You should have woken me up! I can’t believe I slept in this late,” you said.

“Nah. Ya needed it,” he drawled. “Ya were out cold. Didn’t even move when I got up. Besides, we’ve got this handled. Ain’t no reason ya need to be out here.”

You nodded. “I see that.”

“Should be a done in a bit,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the growing pile of dead ones on the other side of the fence. Looking back at you, Daryl thought you looked a little pale. “Ya feelin’ alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing a little.

You nodded. “Mhm. Fine. I’m gonna just go see if Hershel needs help in the garden,” you replied. “See ya in a few?”

The archer nodded and watch you start to turn away. “Hey—just take it easy, alright?”

You laughed. “I think harvesting cucumbers is about as easy as it gets!” You gave him one more wide smile and headed for the vegetable garden. “Hey, Carl,” you said, as you came through the gate and passed him. “What are we harvesting today?”

Hershel glanced up at you and gave you a small smile. “Cucumbers. Peppers. Those tomatoes could use some weeding if you’re up for it,” he said. He surveyed you carefully and, like Daryl, did think you looked a little pale. But you seemed otherwise bright and alert as you set about your task.

But you hadn’t been working in the garden long when you started to feel a bit dizzy. A cold sweat broke out at your hairline and on the back of your neck and you knelt heavily in the soil a little suddenly.

Hershel noticed immediately. “Y/N?” He got up and moved over to you. He watched you wipe a shaky hand across your forehead. “You alright?”

You heaved in a deep breath and forced it out slowly. “Just feel sick all of a sudden. I’m okay. I’m fine,” you said, straightening back up. But as soon as you tried to stand your knees felt weak.

Hershel grabbed your arm to steady you. “Whoa. Easy now. Alright.” He turned to Carl. “Carl, go run and get Daryl.”

“No. No, I’m fine… Don’t bother Daryl with this. It’s nothing. I’m alright. I’ll just head back inside and rest,” you argued.

“You sure? It’s no bother to Daryl to come look after you,” Hershel said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Really. I guess I do need some rest. It’s nothing,” you argued.

Hershel reluctantly released his gentle hold on your arm and you made your way back inside. Carol stood up when you came in and you read concern on her face at the sight of you. You let out a wry laugh.

“Wow, do I really look that bad?” you said, wiping at the sweat on your brow again with the back of your hand. Beth glanced over and she too looked worried after studying you. “I’m okay. Just gonna go lay down. I must just be a little sick... Caught some virus or something.” You climbed the stairs and collapsed back into bed, again grabbing Daryl’s poncho and cuddling up to it.

You dozed in and out for a while but woke when you heard hurried steps on the stairs. Looking up you saw Daryl in front of you, his blue eyes narrowed and obvious worry on his countenance. You leaned up on one elbow as Hershel came into view behind him.

Daryl sank down on the edge of the bed next to you and pushed your hair out of your face, smoothing it gently. “Ya are sick,” he said.

“I think she might be a little anemic,” Hershel said. “She needs iron. Red meat would be best.”

Daryl glanced over at him and nodded. “Alright. I can do that,” he said, grateful for a task that would be helpful to you when he was feeling helpless. He looked back at you. “I want ya to stay in bed today. Rest,” he said softly, his eyes flitting between yours. “Ya gonna be alright if I go out and hunt?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He gulped. “Alright. Promise you’ll stay in bed?”

You looked up at the sweet worry on his face. “I promise. Promise you’ll be safe out there?” You hated the idea of him going out and hunting alone.

“I promise. I’ll come back to ya.” He smoothed your hair again and then leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes briefly at the sensation.

He shouldered his crossbow and look at Hershel. “Thanks, doc,” he said. You watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

You glanced up at Hershel who set a glass of water down next to the bed for you. “You really think I’m anemic?”

He nodded. “I do. Fits all your symptoms. All of them except you getting sick yesterday.”

“Oh… okay.”

Hershel gave you a kind look. “Glenn and Maggie should be back any minute now. I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

You dozed on and off for a while until you heard some activity down the stairs and you sat up in bed. Quiet, steady footsteps on the stairs approached and Maggie came into view with a small bag for you. “Got what you needed,” she said.

You sat up, your stomach churning nervously, and accepted the bag from her. “Thanks,” you said. She hovered for a moment.

“Do you know what you’re hopin’ for?” she asked.

You shook your head and glanced up at her. “Not really…”

She nodded. “Well, either way it goes, we’re all here for you. And I know Daryl is too, no matter what.”

You gave her a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” You stared back down at the bag in your hand. “Well, better get it over with I suppose,” you said, standing up and heading for the bathroom.

A short while later you were back in the space you and Daryl shared, the pregnancy test sitting on the chair next to the bed. You couldn’t stop switching between sitting and anxiously bouncing your leg and pacing along the side of the bed wringing your hands. You were obsessively checking the time and it felt like it had decided to move like cold molasses. You were a bundle of nerves, but finally it was time to check the results. You forced a nervous breath in and out and picked up the test.

Positive. It was positive.

You felt like your knees were about to give out and you sat down on the bed hard, staring at that little plus sign.

Your heart was racing, and even though you were terrified, and so nervous wondering what Daryl’s reaction would be that you thought you might pass out, you broke into a teary smile as you stared at the results.

You replaced the test on the chair beside the bed and flopped backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the gray concrete of the ceiling and watching the shifting light and shadows. Whether it was simply from the relief of knowing or a result of the stress leading up to it combined with the toll on your body, you fell asleep not long after, cuddled up to Daryl’s poncho.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was almost sunset when Daryl came back from his hunt, hauling a small deer over his shoulder. He had told himself he wasn’t coming back until he had some meat for you and everyone else (but mostly for you…) and he had succeeded. Usually hunting or tracking quieted his mind, but the whole time he was outside the prison fences he had been worrying about you. Before the outbreak, it wasn’t a big deal to get the flu or some random virus. But now, without access to modern medical care, something simple could turn into a big fucking problem real quick. You’d never had a problem with anemia before, if that’s what this was, and he didn’t really understand why you suddenly would. But he also knew that you were the type of person who would choose to go without a decent meal so Beth or Carl could have a second helping. He made a mental note to ask Maggie and Glenn about whether they saw any place on their run today that might have meds or supplements. Better to search out what they could before you needed it desperately.

The sun was low and sinking fast beyond the tree line as Daryl nodded to Carol as she closed the gate behind him.

“That’s a good find!” she said enthusiastically, looking at the deer slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. How’s Y/N?”

“Hershel’s been checking on her. She’s been sleeping all afternoon,” Carol said.

Daryl nodded. “Good. I was afraid she’d be up tryin’ to help on the frickin’ fence or somethin’. Stubborn,” he drawled. He started up toward the prison and left the deer outside to be butchered. He wanted to see you before he did anything else.

It was quiet in the cell block. Most of the group was winding down for the evening, sprawled out with a book or busying themselves with some quiet activity. Rick gave Daryl a nod as he came in and continued bouncing and shushing Judith.

Climbing the stairs to your shared space, Daryl could tell you must still be asleep. Normally you’d have been calling out to him already with some greeting, or you’d be waiting at the top of the stairs with a one of those smiles that killed him every time.

He smiled as you came into view on the bed. You were partially curled up on your side, cuddled up to his poncho tightly, your fingers curled into the fabric and your cheek pressed to it. He pulled off his vest and tossed it on the chair beside the bed, debating about whether or not to wake you up and ask how you were, when he heard something clatter to the floor.

He bent and felt around under the chair and his hand closed on it. Straightening up, he finally looked at what was in his hand. Even Daryl knew what that little plus sign meant. He glanced back over at your sleeping figure.

This was—was this—suddenly, everything made sense.

The archer rushed down the stairs and toward the exit. Rick looked up and frowned at his urgency. “Daryl?” But the archer didn’t even stop to look at him.

Outside, he grabbed his crossbow from where he had laid it down by the deer, shouldered it, and let himself into the alley between the fences, running toward the vehicles waiting on the outside.

Carol saw him and her stomach immediately twisted. “Daryl?” She rushed toward the fence, but by the time she got there he was already slamming the driver door of the SUV and peeling out, the tires scattering gravel behind the car. Carol gripped the chain link fence so hard her knuckles were white and stared at the taillights disappearing into the dark beyond the lazily drifting cloud of dust. Her stomach dropped.

She ran the whole way back up to the prison and met Rick on his way out. “What’s going on?” Carol asked desperately.

“I was just coming to ask Daryl that same question,” Rick said, his eyes searching the yard and perimeter fence for his broad-shouldered frame. “He just went hurrying out of the cellblock.”

“I saw! He just took the SUV and peeled out of here,” Carol said, her eyes wide and worried. “It’s dark! Where could he possibly be going right now that couldn’t wait?”

A shadow darkened Rick’s expression. He shook his head and shrugged, meeting Carol’s eyes again, at a complete loss. “Better ask Y/N.”

Carol suddenly realized—like a flash of lightning. She nodded to Rick. “Let me go talk to her.”

Carol climbed the stairs to you and Daryl’s space in the cellblock. You were fast asleep on the bed and she gently touched your shoulder to wake you. You stirred and glanced over at her through sleepy eyes. You must have read something on her face because you shot up in bed immediately. “What? What is it? Is Daryl okay? Is he back?” You could tell by the lack of slanted light coming through the high windows that it must be dark.

Carol didn’t know how to tell you this. “He’s fine. He came back with a deer. And then—all of a sudden he just barreled out of here again. He took the SUV.”

You suddenly realized that Carol was sitting on the chair where the pregnancy test had been. Your heart plummeted into your stomach. “Wait—where—where’s the test? It was—it was right there where you’re sitting,” you said.

Carol shook her head. “I didn’t see it. There was nothing here when I came up. Just Daryl’s vest over the back here—”

Carol took in your wide-eyed expression. You jumped up off the bed and starting searching around the floor, reaching under the mattress. “It was right there. I set it there.” You stood up, frozen, one hand clutched to your head. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Daryl came back, and you were asleep, and he must have seen the test and— “He—He came back and I was asleep and he saw it,” you murmured. “He must have seen it and… he just ran off?” There were tears stinging in your eyes now.

Carol stood up and gently grasped your shoulders. “Try not to jump to any conclusions.”

“Carol, it was positive.” You just stared at her, your eyes still wide. “It was positive! What else am I supposed to think? He came back and he saw a positive pregnancy test and he just—he just left?” Your voice was desperate.

The only thing Carol could think of doing was to grab you tightly and hug you. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay! Don’t panic!”

Part of you knew Daryl would never just leave, but another part of you knew this was completely uncharted territory. You honestly didn’t know how he would react to the news… You couldn’t stop cursing yourself for leaving the stupid test out like that and letting yourself fall asleep. Anyone could have walked up and seen it, and of course it had to be Daryl. You snatched his poncho off the bed and started toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Carol demanded.

“I’m gonna go wait,” you said. “I’ll be in the east guard tower…And Carol—Please don’t say anything about this to anyone… Just—not yet. Not now.” You breezed past Rick on your way out, ignoring him calling your name.

Carol met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What’d she say?” Rick drawled.

Carol shrugged. “She was sleeping. Maybe��maybe Daryl is worried about her being sick and decided to go look for supplies,” she offered weakly.

Rick let out a disbelieving sigh. “At night? By himself?”

All Carol could do was shrug.

“How is Y/N? And where’d she just rush off to?”

Carol nodded. “She’s alright. Worrying about Daryl now obviously. She wanted some fresh air and to watch for him so she headed up to the guard tower.”

The worry creases on Rick’s forehead didn’t ease. “What the hell is he thinking going off by himself at night?”

Carol shook her head. “He probably wasn’t.”

Up in the guard tower, with Daryl’s poncho swaddled tightly around you, you sat out in the open night air and stared at the road that led up to the gate. A few times you even tricked yourself into thinking there were distant headlights approaching, but when you looked again everything was just as still and black as it had been a moment before. You heard the door creak open behind you and Hershel stepped out.

He sighed and looked up at the inky blue-black sky, dotted with innumerable stars. “Ah. It’s nice and cool out here now,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the tower. He bent and set a bowl of some noodles and vegetables beside you. “You better eat something,” he said.

“No appetite right now, funny enough,” you said.

He could see the rigid tension in your shoulders and he sank down next to you with some effort, adjusting his prosthetic leg with a sigh. “I can see you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said gently. “Trying to guess the answer before you can even ask the question.”

You finally looked over at him, an anxious expression on your face. “Did Carol tell you?”

“No. She didn’t have to. I can guess well enough,” he said, a small smile on his lips. Hershel turned his gaze out over the yard. “You know there was a time, back at the farm, when I wasn’t sure about Daryl. You can imagine this old farmer was a little skeptical of his rough-around-the-edges, hot-headed biker attitude,” he chuckled to himself. “But time and time again, he came through for me and my girls. He watched out for all of you and he kept us safe even when we weren’t his to care about yet. He certainly saw Shane for what he was before anyone else.” Hershel breathed in a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly. “And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d do anything for you.”

You could feel tears burning in your eyes again, and you adjusted the poncho around your shoulders.

“Whatever reason he had for tearing out of here like he did, I promise you that he will be back,” Hershel said strongly.

You wiped one tear that leaked onto your cheek and sniffled, trying your hardest to blink away the rest. You nodded. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know how to—how to do any of this,” you said. “And we’ve never even talked about it so I don’t know what he wants. What if—”

Hershel chuckled again. “What ifs can lead you down a dangerous road of thinking. Let’s just wait and see, hmm?”

You gulped and nodded, staring back out into the night. “You don’t have to wait with me,” you said.

“I’m going to sit here until you eat something. Doctor’s orders.” You could hear a smile in his voice and you begrudgingly picked up the bowl he had brought for you and picked at the food. Hershel smiled.

When the bowl was empty, Hershel took it from you and pulled himself to his feet again. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

You felt like you had been waiting up there for days, but it was really only a few hours. You were reeling with worry, but this time when you thought you saw headlights and looked again they were still there.

You jumped up and stared as the SUV came into view and stopped at the gate. Turning on your heel, you started to rush toward the stairwell but you suddenly froze. What the hell were you going to say? What the hell was Daryl going to say? You were gripped with anxiety again as the multitude of what ifs you had been fighting since waking up suddenly traveled through your brain in single file at light speed. You were frozen, staring at the door for… you didn’t even know how long when it suddenly started to open.

You startled and jumped back with a small gasp of surprise. Daryl’s broad shoulders emerged through the widening gap. “Y/N?”

You gulped and stared back at him, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek.

He stopped just inside the door and took in your wide eyes and obvious distress. His brow furrowed heavily, casting a shadow over his narrowed blue eyes. He gulped and stepped closer to you.

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn’t come unnaturally high or strangled sounding despite the constriction in your throat. “You’re back,” you said softly. It was the only thing you could force out.

Daryl looked puzzled. “Of course I’m back,” he said, stepping closer. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and worried it between his teeth for a moment. You watched as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test.

Your heart was pounding.

“I, uhh—I found this. Ya were asleep and—” He gulped. “It’s positive, right? Means you’re pregnant.” It really wasn’t a question.

Daryl could see your chest heaving a little with your nervous breaths. You nodded.

Daryl stared down at it for a long moment before he looked back up at you. “What do you wanna do?” he asked.

You stared at him. He looked so calm while you felt like you were spinning. “I don’t—I don’t know—I—” You forced in a breath. “We’ve never talked about what you want. Hell, we’ve never talked about what I want either…”

“I know what I want. I want you. That’s more than I could ever ask for,” he said, stepping closer toward you again. “But this? This is your decision. And whatever you decide is fine by me.”

You were almost overwhelmed with emotion immediately, just hearing him speak those words. Daryl saw it and he couldn’t resist breaking the buffer of space between you any longer. He clasped your face in both hands as the tears finally broke free of your eyes and traveled down your cheeks. “Hey. S’alright,” he murmured to you. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you against him tightly. “M’right here.”

You pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. “You’re really okay with… either way?” you asked him, uncertainty still plain in your eyes.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Promise.” He smoothed his hands over your back.

You leaned your head against his chest for a moment and listened to his strong and steady heart. Daryl gently stroked your hair, enjoying the feeling of you against him and the silky strands of your hair under his fingertips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, part of you still bracing against some worst-case scenario you knew would never come, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t be completely silenced. Your voice was soft, but Daryl still heard it as clear as day. “I think—I want to do this. With you.” You pulled back slightly and looked up, meeting Daryl’s waiting blue eyes. You had barely gotten the words out before he had wrapped you up again and picked you up off your feet, hugging you so tightly he squeezed a little air from your lungs. You let out a surprised laugh as he set you back down, about to speak again, but he clasped your face and kissed you feverishly before you could start. It was like a warm shot of bourbon or that first warm day of sunshine after a long winter. It was urgent and soft at the same time, pleading and needy but affirming, his fingers in your hair.

When he finally pulled back there was a smile crinkling the corner of his blue eyes as they flickered between yours. You were sure you had a slight look of shock on your face still despite the bewildered smile you were now wearing.

“We’re doin’ this?” he asked, not releasing his gentle hold on your face.

You nodded. “We are.” Your heart was pounding. “Oh my God, we are…”

Daryl kissed you again and you sunk into it deeply this time. His hands came to rest on your hips and you stared up at him, still feeling a little like you were spinning. “I didn’t know how you’d—because of your life growing up…” you trailed off.

He nodded. “I know. But I ain’t my dad,” he said forcefully. “You’ve shown me that more than anyone.”

“I woke up and Carol said you just went running off and I—I didn’t know what to think when I realized the test was gone and that you must have seen it,” you admitted.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he shook his head as he looked at you. “Ya thought I would leave ya?”

“No! No, I didn’t—but then—I just—I guess I got scared… This whole thing is a little overwhelming.”

“Hey. C’mere,” he said, wrapping you up in his arms again and pressing you against him. “I ain’t never leavin’ ya. Never. You’re—you’re my everythin’.”

You breathed him in for a moment before pulling back. “Well, then where did you go?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up and he laced his fingers with yours. “C’mon. I’ll show ya.”

You followed him down the stairs and back into the prison to the cellblock. It seemed that everyone was already asleep except for the two of you, satisfied once Daryl was back that they didn’t need to wait up worrying anymore like you were. When you climbed the stairs into your space, Daryl bent down and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. It looked like it was stuffed full. He knelt down beside it and unzipped it.

You stared down at the contents and then met his blue eyes. “This is what you were doing?”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod, pressing his lips together a little nervously. Now you were the one who grabbed him and kissed him desperately.

The bag was full of things you would need during a pregnancy and for a baby; pre-natal vitamins, bottles, pacifiers, blankets, diapers. Your heart swelled as you looked down at it and then back at Daryl again. You shook your head. “You just—you amaze me,” you said.

He shrugged, still a little bashful when you directly complimented him even after all this time. He reached back under the bed and pulled out a second bag. You gave him a questioning look. “What is that?”

“In case ya decided the other way,” he said. “S’mostly just some random things ya like. Books and…” He shrugged again.

“So—Baby was Plan A?” you asked him as he climbed to his feet.

“You were Plan A. Ya always were and ya always will be.”

You looped your arms around his neck and his hands reflexively landed gently on your lower back. “But—you were hoping—?”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. “If ya woulda asked me a week ago I don’t know what I woulda said. But as soon as I picked up that damn test up and looked at it… And then I looked at ya just layin’ there asleep, all wrapped up with my poncho the way you were… I knew what I was hoping for. But I mean it when I say that anything you decided would be fine. You’re the one who as to do the hard part.”

You arched up onto your toes and kissed him again, sliding your fingers into his hair and feeling calm and happy again for the first time since you had sent out for the test. “How’d I get so lucky finding you?” you asked him quietly. Daryl felt his heart skip a beat and electricity zipped up his back. You always did that to him. Easily. Still.

“I ask myself that all the damn time,” he drawled. “Now c’mon. Ya need rest.”

You nodded and realized that despite sleeping most of the day, you were exhausted. Anxiety will do that… “I suppose you think this means you’re gonna be able to boss me around now?” you joked, settling into bed.

“Damn right,” he said with a smirk, pushing the duffels of supplies back under the mattress. “Gotta make sure ya take care of yerself and the little one. I’m gonna boss ya around all the damn time.” He kicked off his boots and slipped into bed next to you, immediately moving until his body was pressed against yours and he could wrap an arm over you. You slipped your fingers between his. “Gonna tell Hershel he can boss ya around too,” he joked. “And Carol. And Rick. And Maggie. And—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you laughed.

Daryl smiled to himself and kissed your neck. “We’re doin’ this,” he said softly.

You sighed contentedly and nodded. “We are.” And that night you had no trouble sleeping.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon one shots

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crowfootwrites · 4 years ago

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Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans mc x reader

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secretobsessionstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Traffic Jam: Madix Food Poisoning

Madix awoke with his head in Riley’s lap. It was awfully disorienting. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with his head against the car window while Dakota and Blair chatted quietly in the front. He also remembered that his stomach was quite full from dinner, and that it lulled him into a deep food coma. He definitely ate too much at the buffet, so he welcomed the drowsiness that came with the heavy meal.

Now he was completely horizontal with his legs curled up on the back seat. He could feel Riley playing with his hair which felt heavenly, but he did want to know how he ended up with his seatbelt off. He also registered the fact that his stomach didn’t feel any lighter. In fact, it was hurting and churning more than before.

With a groan, Madix sat up and looked around. It was dark out, like it had been before he fell asleep, but now the car’s interior was flooded with red from other people’s brake lights. Everywhere he looked, he only saw the lights from many stationary cars on the highway. He couldn’t have been out long if they were still on the highway.

Dakota looked back as he saw movement in the mirror. “Did you sleep off all that food, Mads?”

“Not really.” He squinted more from discomfort that anything else. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Close to two hours.”

“Two hours!” he exclaimed. They should have been back home by now. The four lanes of stopped cars answered some of his questions. “How long have we been in traffic?”

“Close to two hours.”

Madix huffed and fell back on Riley’s lap. He would have much preferred to be home rather than stuck in a sea of parked vehicles. He looked up at Riley with as much of a smile as he could manage with the ache in his belly. “Thanks for keeping me comfy.”

“I didn’t want your neck to hurt from sleeping against the window,” Riley said while leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. “When it seemed like we’d be stopped for a while, I took off your seatbelt.”

“What the hell is keeping us stopped for two hours?”

Blair looked back at the boys and chimed in saying, “the rumour is that some guy got hit trying to cross the lanes. People gave up a while ago and got out of their cars.”

“They have the right idea,” Madix mumbled. He really had to pee and now it seemed things were about to get worse with the nausea that was slowly growing in intensity.

The car was mostly quiet, the conversation having died an hour ago. Madix closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep again, and sleep off the stomach-ache this time. He still had the taste of the ocean in his mouth from the seafood portion of the buffet. It made him want to gag just thinking about it.

His belly was so full and swollen. He could feel it pressing against his jeans, so he undid the button to give him some room to breathe. As he did, his stomach let out long gurgle that he could feel beneath his hand. The air must have traveled up his throat because the next thing he knew he was burping wetly into his fist.

“Ugh, excuse me,” he moaned. Lying down was not the best position to be burping in. His throat was already burning from the reflux.

Riley’s hands went back to playing with Madix’s hair, but it felt more tense this time. “Your stomach was making a lot of noise while you slept.”

“Mmh, it’s kinda upset,” Madix said with his eyes closed. For a moment, he forgot who he was talking to. “I’m actually a little nauseous to be honest.” The gentle massage ended as Riley’s hands froze. Shit. Madix sat up and fixed his hair nervously. He wanted to tell Riley that it wasn’t that bad – that he could hold off until they got home. But he didn’t know when that would be and God his stomach was cramping. Whatever he’d put into his belly really didn’t like it in there.

Riley started to bounce his leg and bite the nail of his thumb. Madix could see the war on his face. Half of his brain told himself to run away while the other half told him that Madix was able to comfort him all the time. It was no big deal. But the louder half was the one telling him to escape. There was only one problem. “Madix, we’re in a car. I—I don’t like this…”

Before saying something that would help, Madix couldn’t help the belch that escaped past his lips. Sitting up straight made the air and food shift around in his stomach. There was another gurgle that made him push his hand into his abdomen. He hated the fear that came across his boyfriend’s face. “Ry, it’ll be fine. I can always get out of the car if I need to.”

That’s when Dakota piped up, perhaps sensing the change in atmosphere. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Madix says he’s nauseous and thinks he’s gonna puke,” Riley said quickly with a quiver in his voice.

“Well, I didn’t say the part about—” Another wet belch caught him off guard and forced him to put a hand over his mouth. Okay, yeah Riley was right, he did think he was gonna puke.

Dakota and Blair both looked back worriedly. It was weird to see Dakota so well from the back seat, but it wasn’t like he had to concentrate on driving. He gave his friend a sympathetic look which morphed into an alarmed one as he heard the burp that Madix let out. “Damn, that didn’t sound good. Are you—”

Madix suddenly opened the door and left before Dakota could finish his sentence. Dakota just stared at the place where Madix had been. He blinked a few times and then simply turned up the car’s music up much louder than normal. With his hand on the door, he looked back at Blair. “You should talk to Riley about something really awesome. I don’t know what, but just talk. Or sing!”

“I’ve got him. Go help Madix.”

Dakota didn’t need to be told twice. He left his passengers in the beautiful company of Freddie Mercury as Bohemian Rhapsody started to play. Good, that was a long song.

He went around to the back of the car where he found Madix hunched over and coughing. There was no puddle of vomit by his feet. Yet. The boy’s hair was a mess and sticking up from sweat. Dakota placed his large hand in the center of his back. “You know, you puke in my car a lot.”

Madix groaned and spat on the ground as his mouth filled with saliva. “I didn’t this time.”

“I know. It just got me thinking of all the lovely memories,” Dakota said with a grin. The grin turned into a grimace as Madix burped, the sound of it hitting the back of his throat. “Did you catch a bug? ‘Cause I can’t imagine you’d be carsick.” Looking around at the traffic jam, Dakota tried not to make eye contact with the car behind them. It was only then that he realized that they might be giving a few people a show that they didn’t want to see.

Madix shook his head. This was worse than motion sickness. This was something spoiled trying to crawl out of him. Or swim out of him. He was going to tell Dakota the reason, but a harsh retch put an end to that plan.

Dakota’s eyes went wide. “Oh boy, sounds like you’ll tell me later.”

Madix’s stomach heaved into his throat as a gush of partially digested food rushed out of his mouth. It splattered in between his feet, forming an impressive yet disgusting puddle of sushi and ice cream, and everything else that the buffet offered.

He felt big circles being rubbed on his back which made the pain of his next retch less terrible. Still not great. His throat burned from the second wave of sick. The burn invaded his nose, making him wish he had a tissue as the sniffles came on strong.

Dakota gave his back a firm pat in between the light circles. “There you go. Get that shit up and you’ll feel better.” He had no idea how true those words were. Madix just had to get it out of his system because it was wreaking havoc on his stomach.

There was a rare moment of quiet in between bouts that Madix used to contemplate if life was worth living. He leaned against the back of the car, trying to catch his breath before the next round started.

“Are you finished?” Dakota asked, “Because I have water in the car.”

He moaned. “No, but water would be great.”

Dakota came back to the car just in time to hear the last verse of the song. Riley and Blair were indeed singing, albeit shakily in Riley’s case.

“How’s he doing?” Riley asked with concern in his voice.

“Beautiful, very impressive boyfriend you’ve got,” Dakota said with the same energy that he gave to everything. “But seriously, he’s okay. We’re managing. Lovely voices by the way.” He gave a Blair a wink and left.

Madix was back to gagging over the puddle with sick hanging from his lips. Yep, so beautiful, Dakota mumbled to himself.

“Thanks,” Madix said as he wiped his sleeve across his mouth and took the water bottle from his friend. “It was something I ate by the way. Sorry about this.”

“Hey, I got nowhere to go,” Dakota raised his arms, gesturing to the traffic jam.

As if the universe wanted to prove Dakota wrong, the cars started rolling ever so slowly. It was more movement than they’d seen in the last two hours. “Finally. Do you think you’ll be okay for the rest of the drive?”

“I hope so.” Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate doing this to Riley.”

“He’s singing his worries away with Blair.” Dakota waved his hand in the air.

“I thought I heard Queen.”

Dakota chuckled. “And I think I’m going to take the backroads home, so I’ll pull over whenever you need.”

Before Madix could thank his friend, the car behind them honked at them to get a move on. Dakota shouted unkind words to them and waved goodbye with only one finger.

#emeto #emetophilia #emetophile #emeto fic #emeto kink #sickfic #food poisoning #Madix #Riley #Dakota #Blair #my ocs #vomiting #puking #platonic

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (10)

word count; 16,174

summary; a suspicious call has disastrous consequences.

notes; it’s time. the death, and you aren’t ready for it. grab your tissues.

warnings; major character death, panic attacks, breakdowns, arson, gore, blood triggers, explosions, significant descriptions of injury, vomiting.

“You sure the call was here?”

You twisted to look at Minho, and he scowled at you for the insinuation. “I followed the directions!”

“Well, I don’t see a fire.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Captain Obvious!” He scoffed, and a few chuckles ran out over the group as you beamed at him. “How come nobody ever gets at Fry for his driving?”

“Because he knows how to drive.” You snipped back, and an arm slung over your shoulders, a new medkit pressed into your arms by your partner, and you scowled down at the bag.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with it, per se.

In fact, it was a pretty nice bag, all things considered. A nice shade of navy blue to match the smart uniforms the firefighters wore on formal occasions, with padded straps to ease the stress on your shoulders and no loose threads or faded patches. It was brand new, and it was even personalised with a nice stitching of white numbers to form ‘21 to show off the house you were proudly a part of, but it felt wrong.

It just wasn’t your lucky charm.

“Oh, stop pouting over the bag, will ya’?” Newt sighed, and you only huffed, swinging it up onto your shoulder, and tucking your hand into the fleeced pocket of the coat you’d bought. Since deciding you wanted to remain at this house indefinitely, you had treated yourself to a further wardrobe of firehouse ‘21 kit. Two more embroidered shirts, your new bag, this warm fleece jacket and even one of the firemen’s tees, the largest size you could get for comfort in wearing at home. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not my bag!”

“Yeah, well, your bag is probably halfway to Australia or being picked apart by crabs, by now.” Your bottom lip stuck out a little at the idea, despite how entertaining the mental image of crabs playing doctor was. It made your lips flicker up in a brief smile, at least.

The rest of the firefighters were still standing around, staring up at the building with confusion, and you couldn't deny that you were in much the same state. There had been an emergency call, bringing you all out to the industrial estate on the edge of the city where you found yourselves now, and yet there was no emergency to be seen. Something about it felt wrong, something wasn’t right, you had a slightly nauseous feeling creeping in your gut but you didn’t know what was causing it, as nothing dangerous was looming over you all.

“The siren definitely said ‘emergency’, right?”

“Yep.” Thomas hummed, coming to stand beside his best friend, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat against the cool weather too, and his eyes found your own, lips forming a smile to greet you with.

“You know, maybe it’s like the call with Aaron?” A few of the other’s turned to face you at your suggestion, and you played with a pebble under the toe of your shoes. “This seems like the dumb place kids play at to rebel. Abandoned factories are great places for no good. Maybe there’s someone inside?”

Silence hung over it all for a second, and Gally was the first to break it, a groan falling from his lips. “I bet it’s a prank call.”

“We’re required to check it out anyway.” Brenda was ready to go, she’d been full of energy since the very beginning of the day, and you had a feeling that it had something to do with the suspiciously close arrival times between her and Minho. If you had counted right, it had been exactly five minutes apart, and the thought of Brenda telling Minho he had to wait five minutes before following her made you laugh. Neither had noticed you taking early stock on the ambulance this morning as they all but skipped into the station. You planned to confront her about it later. “Let’s get going!”

“Alright, eager. Something got you all hyped up?”

She turned to look at you, eyes narrowing for a second, and Newt gasped a little beside you as he realised there was some kind of gossip he had yet to be let in on, but didn’t bring it up, simply squeezing you a little tighter. “Alright, well, I don’t trust it. I want everyone in full gear, just in case.”

“Oh, God, I hate those damn helmets. So clunky and clumsy, I hate it.” Newt was complaining once again, his arm dropping away from around you to wander away towards a firetruck to gain a jacket and a helmet to match the rest as he followed the directions given by his friends, and he team around you all pulled on their helmets, masks hooked onto their hips in case they were needed.

“C’mon, let's get you all geared up. Think you can manage to keep it all on, for once?”

“What do you mean ‘for once’, Thomas? One time I took off a rope, one time!” He only beamed at your attitude, opening up the back of the Squad truck to begin getting out the spare equipment for both you and Newt. He simply shrugged, and Newt made a show of dropping down to sit on the concrete as he kicked off his sneakers, taking a pair of slightly scuffed boots, his own pair that was stored in the firetruck, and your own were much shinier, still waiting to be broken in like his were.

Dropping your bag down onto the lip of the van, you were more than happy to abandon the piece of material, despising it already, as the feeling in your stomach continued to make you dread everything about this unusual case. You took off your shoes to copy, and took the pair of oversized and heat-proof pants from Thomas, tugging them up over your uniform to cover your legs, and fastening them tightly around your waist.

“I already feel like I’m overheating.”

Newt only hummed from his seat on the floor, and Thomas dropped a jacket down beside his friend, the garment left abandoned. “Well, y’know, could take off your pants.”

Your eyes narrowed on Thomas as you pushed each foot into a boot, toes wiggling as you navigated your feet into the shoes, a hand braced on the side of the firetruck or balance, and he smirked at you as he held onto your jacket and waited. “Yeah, I bet you’d just love that.”

“He’s still waiting for his turn to see the cute panties.” Newt chimed in, and you leaned down, flicking him against his ear as you crouched to do up your laces, and he let out a loud shout of complaint and he wiggled a little on the floor to pull his fireproof pants up over his hips in a less than graceful manner.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to be waiting a while.”

“Don’t go breakin’ my heart like that, sweetheart.” He hummed, pouting a little as you moved to tie the other laces, glaring up at him as he continued to smirk, and Newt gagged dramatically at the interactions. You glared at him, too, your cheeks flushing with warmth, and you turned your back on the two of them, arms lifting to push backwards into the jacket Thomas was holding for you, before swiping up your bag and swinging it over your shoulder.

“I hope there’s a hole in that building, and I hope you both fall in it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Tommy here is already falling f- you dick! What in the hell was that for?” Newt’s words were cut off, a red-faced Lieutenant glaring at his best friend, your partner rubbing the back of his friend and glaring right back, and you didn’t pay either of them any attention, instead choosing to wander away.

As you walked, you fastened up the front of your jacket, making sure that it was sealed up tightly to lock out the chill, and Gally was taking the first team in. The Truck team were lined up at the main entrance, a pair of bolt cutters in hand as the chains were snapped on the front entrance, all pausing. The sound of breaking glass followed, the whole team ducking down securely as they waited for a reaction to come from the broken glass. An explosion, a wisp of smoke, a smell of gas or a sudden backdraft, but nothing came.

It was all far too unusual.

“Do you smell that?” Winston voiced, face screwing up a little as he stood, leaning towards the window, and you raised a hand to cover your eyes against the glaring winter sun, despite the chill in the air, the rays were still bright enough to burn your retinas. “Smells kinda’ like a gas station.”

“You think there’s petrol in there?”

“Could be. I’m not seeing any smoke, but it's dark, and the smell is faint. These buildings normally have basements.” He shrugged, and you tucked your hands into your pockets.

“These kinda’ buildings normally become makeshift homeless shelters. They burn fuel for heat, maybe it’s just a smell that's lingering. It’s been pretty cold out, lately, we might just have some squatters being called in by a landowner.” A helmet was placed onto your head, falling down into your eyes from the impact, and when you lifted it up, Thomas was walking away from you, adjusting his helmet and preparing to take command of his crew.

“Well, no matter what it is, we can get in and get out after doing a quick check.”

He took a place beside Gally, the two sharing a glance, before the taller one was taking control, kicking roughly at the large double doors until they creaked under the pressure, swinging open roughly and echoing around the inside of the first room, the sound bouncing from stone and metalwork until it finally died out. Various torches flickered on around you as each member of the team activated the device on their shoulder, and Newt stood before you, a frown on his lips.

“This feels weird to you, right?”

“Really weird.” You mumbled back, keeping your voice low as not to disturb the members of the team who were each pairing off to enter, Thomas and Gally directing them at the doorways as they disappeared into the darkened old factory leaving you and Newt to follow slowly. You knew that neither of you was supposed to wander off too far, you would be told to stay in the main room, near the doorway, and to simply wait until you were needed. Teams spread out, pairs disappearing through the corridors, some up the stairs to the next level, and some lower to the basement, tracing the building for any source of evidence to support why you’d been called here.

There was a pause for a while, a long gap of silence, and you could hear the team shuffling about, before Newt was nudging you with his elbow, keeping his gaze forward and biting back a grin as he tried to keep a ‘professional’ expression on, but he leaned towards you to whisper his request; “You wanna’ have a thumb war while we wait?”

“Absolutely I do.” You grinned, turning to face him as he gasped excitedly, his one body facing your own. The radio on your shoulder crackled, Gally’s voice coming through it as he reminded the teams to update on what they had found, and so far, a collection of ‘nothings’ were coming back. Holding your hand out, Newt’s fingers wrapped around your own in the opposite direction, locking the two of you together, and you folded your other hand behind your back as he followed suit. Your thumb tapped against your hand and his, ducking together as you counted down in a small chant together, before the battle was commencing.

He grinned as his digit moved, wrapping around yours and trying to pin it down, but you were quick to retract it, and the smile was just as quick to fall from his face. Simple huffs in angry exhales and quiet laughter was shared between you both as you waited for any updates, the longer the time making it seem more and more like you were in the clear, as no signs of danger showed up.

“Upstairs is totally clear.” Thomas sighed through his radio, and you cheered loudly as you captured Newt's thumb, pressing it down while he cursed, and beginning to count to three. He didn’t let you get that far, however, before he was snatching his thumb back at the final moment, and you booed him, his lips flicking up cheekily.

“Told you, it’s a prank call!” Gally mumbled, Chuck radioing in to confirm his room was clear, as did Minho, who was checking carefully over all of the power outlets, but while seeming a little battered and busted up, some loose fires and broken sockets, nothing seemed at risk.

“We’ve got something down here.. I think..”

“What do you mean you think, Winston?” You paused, the two of you agreeing to call it a tie as a lead was beginning to rise up, and you focused your attention on your radio, trying to make out the words through the interference.

“I mean, it’s damn dark down here, and the smoke torches don’t give us much. I’ll need a whole flashlight, but from what I can make out, there’s a fair load of petrol canisters down here. Some tipped over, spilt oil, but no fire.” You could hear him clattering about, the metal sound of a boot kicking lightly against the side of one metal container ringing through clearly.

“Can you count how many?”

“Not without the flashlights.” He replied, and various chatter about it began coming over the speakers as the two lurked on the edge of the barrels, Fry adding that the two couldn't even see the end of the room.

“I think I can get power up and running. These circuits aren’t too busted up, I just need to flip a few breakers, hold on..” There was a grunt, chatter between Minho and Zart as they moved around the room. It took a few minutes, that same anxious period of waiting looming over you all once again, and you let out a low breath, the twisting feeling in your gut was still there, and you hated it. Resting a hand over your stomach, you took a deep breath, trying to ease the racing of your heart. “Alright, everyone get out from under any lights, the power surge might smash some of the bulbs, don’t stand under where glass may spray.”

You and Newt both looked up, a row of lighting above your heads, and your steps were almost synchronised as you took a few steps backwards from the centre of the room, making sure you were covered from a blast of glass if one came. You shared a nod with your partner, before lifting a hand to the radio you wore, and clicking the button on. “Alright, we’re all good.”

“Everyone on top is clear.”

“Me and Chuck are good.”

“Nothing over our heads, you’re good to go, Minho.”

The collection of affirmations was answered by the flickering of lights overhead. The bulbs were yellow and musty, and you jumped a little at the shattering of glass across the room, shards raining down to create a tinkling noise as it bounced across the concrete, and the bulbs all slowly flickered.

“Oh, shit, Minho! Turn it off!” Your stomach dropped, a slightly patchy transmission through the radio, and your breathing hitched in your throat. “We’ve got broken wires down here, sparks coming through th-”

It all happened within the blink of an eye. One moment you’d been staring ahead at the staircase and waiting for news, before everything had been a blur. Your feet on the floor, your body flying through the air before you were slamming roughly into the concrete factor walls, and it felt like everything in your body became bruised at once. Your shoulder was crushed underneath you painfully as you hit the floor, a throbbing on the back of your head now matched by the side as you collide with the wall, the helmet on your head being the only thing that had stopped your skull from cracking at the impact, and it fell free, rolling away across the floor as you gasped for breath.

For a moment, there was nothing, you felt numb while you tried to focus on what just happened, eyes squeezed shut as your head spun and you choked back bile, and then there was the pain. A screaming kind of agony racing through every nerve in your body, and you couldn't hear your own groan in pain as your ears rang loudly. Like a siren but inside of your head, and the throbbing behind your eyes only seemed to increase as you pried them open.

Clouds of dust waiting to settle that you could barely see through, but the darkness that had once resided was replaced with a bright orange glow, half of the flooring from the centre of the room having crumbled entirely from the blast below you, flames and smoke licking up into the air and beginning to fill the room. You struggled, to even push yourself up to sitting, and you stretched your jaw, shaking your head clear to try and combat the ringing within your ears, before fumbling for the torch on your shoulder, and turning it on.

It didn’t do much, it didn’t help you see through the dust, but you blinked, clearing your vision enough to watch another dulled torch flicker on a few metres away from you, and you arched your back, your bag still there but your bones and muscles aching from being slammed into it against the concrete, feeling the imprint of the equipment under your skin. The walkie-talkie on your shoulder was going but you couldn't focus on that now, stumbling to your feet and tripping on nothing as you tried to step forwards, once hand pressed to cool concrete as you steadied yourself, and tried to make your way toward Newt.

He met you halfway, the sweat on his face matted with grey ash and dust, his eyes wide, a little frantic, and he licked over dry lips, which seemed to do nothing, as they were in much the same state only a second later as the once cold room was rapidly beginning to heat.

“Are you okay?” You had to shout just to hear yourself speak, and he squinted at you, seeming to struggle to hear himself, making you repeat the words, reading your words. He nodded, hand coming up to sit on your shoulders as his gaze scanned over you, and you did the same to him, silently checking one another for injuries.

The ringing was dying down a little bit, you could hear the flames now, and the sound of sliding and grating stone and metalwork as the unstable floor continued to break away in some places. “We should split up.”

“I’ll take upstairs if you take this floor?”

You glanced at the stairs, looking around the room, and assessing the gaps of concrete that looked as though they were still stable. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“You good?” He slipped a hand back up to your cheek, turning your gaze back to him, and making sure you were picking up the determination in his voice.

“I’m good, I swear.” He shook himself off a little, flexing his leg at the knee while holding onto you, all the way down until he was rotating his ankle a little, but you didn’t get a chance to question whether he was truly okay, before he was disappearing from your sights and brushing past you, a final squeeze of your shoulder in confirmation, before the smoke was swallowing up his figure and he was simply a disappearing flashlight that faded with every step.

There was a good amount of concrete left around the left side of the building, furthest away from where the basement with Fry and Winston must have been, and you paced back the way you came, making sure to scoop up your helmet as you went, and place it onto the top of your head, adjusting it carefully to keep your protection against the situation.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, the crunch of broken pieces of stone and dust under your feet, navigating your way through the smoke with a hand pressed to the all, avoiding the flames that were growing higher and higher in the centre of the room, just to find the corridors you’d watched your friends disappear down less than a half-hour before.

Finding your way, you were grateful to see that the passageway was intact, dark and filling with a layer of crawling black clouds along the ceiling but no damage that would impede your way, and there were several doors open. You took off in a jog, scanning the insides of each room, and coming to a skidding halt as you caught sight of the first of your team members behind a third door.

Minho was lay out across the floor, and Zart was kneeling by his side, the look passing over his face could only be described as the kind of relief that gives you epic highs as the stress died down, and you took a place on the other side of him, kneeling to check on the unconscious one of the pair.

There were darkened veins along his arm, and the skin under his glove was a little raw as you peeled it back to check over, the burns travelling all the way up to his wrist, The smell of burning flesh made your nose wrinkle, and you dropped your bag from your shoulders. Tucking your bag underneath his feet to elevate them, you pressed down over the artery in his neck, monitoring the speed at which his heart was still pumping. It was slower than you would’ve liked, but strong, and you could at least let out a little sigh of relief at that.

The muscles under his skin were twitching and spasms, the aftershocks of the current still tingling over his nerves no doubt, and you lifted one eyelid at a time to check him. There were no burst veins in his eyes, and his pupil reaction time suggested that he hadn't gained any permanent brain damage from it. There was a cut across the back of his head from colliding with the concrete after losing his helmet, but it wasn't too deep of a gash, and it was something that could be focused on after he woke up, because the dust was currently helping to clot the wound.

The radio on your shoulder clicked into life, and Newt was on the other end of it; “How you doin’ down there?”

Pulling back, you spared one hand to press the button to allow your reply, as the other tucked your torch away carefully. “Uh, I got Minho here. He’s out cold, got a gash on the back of his skull but nothing permanent, he’ll just have a bad headache and some aches when he wakes up, some burns on his hand to take care of. Might need a new glove, this one is a little charred.” You picked it up, examining the half-melted plastic fingertips, undoubtedly a power surge racing back through the system as it sparked against the petrol in his rush to shut it down. “How’s everyone up there?”

“Tommy and Brenda are okay. Gonna’ be a little sore, some minor injuries, a few cuts and scrapes, nothing terrible.”

“Tell that to the pain in my ribs.” Brenda coffee through the radio, a few slow chuckles following it, and the doorway beside you was filled as a shocked and ash-stained Chuck and Jeff filled the doorway.

“She’s fine, just dramatic.” You could practically hear Newt’s eyes rolling over the waves, and you motioned them a little further inside. Zart seemed okay, he was checked over, you flashed the torch over his eyes and asked him where his pain was, but much like you and newt, he’d had the luck of being stood away from anything else, just a headache from the blast and a sore through from the smoke, but he was quickly hooking up his mask to replace the ashy air with pure oxygen, and he assisted you in doing the same for Minho.

“I got Gally and Clint here, too. Gal’s okay, just complaining like Brenda, but Clint’s got a pretty bad cut on his face, I’m going to clean this one up now.”

“Okay, I’ve got Chuck and Jeff too, but the smoke is getting pretty thick down here already, so I’m going to head straight to Fry and Winston downstairs.” As if to punctuate your words, you heaved a loud cough, the burning dryness in the air scorching the inside of your throat, and you swallowed thickly to try and choke it away.

“No, don’t go downstairs. You don’t have a mask. How are Chuck and Jeff? Send them down.”

“We’re totally fine!” Your candidate all but chirped the words, and you glanced up at him, eyes narrowing a little as he spoke up, as though to convince you to convince Thomas to send them down to find their friends.

“No, I should be the one to go, I don’t know what state they're going to be in.”

“We’re okay. Well, we’re not, but we can make it to you.” A raspy voice came through, broken with a little more interference as the signal cut through snow and rock from the lower floors, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest as Fry’s voice came over the speakers. Everyone seemed equally as excited and relieved to hear from him, the tall man chuckling as his friends all hollered in response to his voice. “Winston is out, he’s got some bad burns, I put him out but he was standing in front of me, he pretty much took the whole hit. I can get him up to you, but I’ll need help.”

You finished up with Jeff, your hands leaving his body as you finished pressing over his torso for any cracked ribs or tensed muscles, any signs you could pick up now of anything that might be wrong. “Jeff, go help him. Zart too.”

The men nodded, and Chuck was all but bouncing in his boots before you as he stared. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“Bullshit. Chuck got thrown into a piece of machinery, looked pretty bad from where I was standing, his feet weren’t even on the floor for the blast.” You frowned at your friend, the official firefighter shrugging as he adjusted his mask before setting off, and the young trainee in front of you sighed. “Really, I’m fine. Sure, a bit sore, but isn’t everyone? Let me go help my friends, I’m all good.”

“Let me check you first, alright? I’ll be quick.” He sighed, but nodded his head, and you motioned to the front of his jacket, letting him unzip it for you. You started at his head, gingers smoothing through brunette curls as you felt over his skull for bumps and grazes, your fingers coming up dry over smooth skin, before you were moving down. You scanned his eyes, watching reaction times, and grinning a little as he winced and cursed under his breath for staring right into it and trying to follow the light, blinking rapidly to clear the retina burn. “Can you say ‘the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’ ten times fast?”

“Really?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’, his face screwing up as he pouted, but he continued to list off the words to you, repeating them perfectly, stuttering over the words occasionally when he went too fast and got tongue-tied, but it was enough to signal to you that he was certainly understanding what he was saying, and aware of the words, never having a problem with processing them in his mind. “Tell me your birthday, your mother’s maiden name, and the street you grew up on as a kid?”

“You sound like a scammer trying to hack into my Facebook account. Those are my security questions. Do you want the name of my first elementary teacher or my favourite musician from when I was fifteen too?”

“Nah, not the musician. That was only a few months ago, too easy to test amnesia against.”

“Screw you, I’m twenty-two.” He growled, and you chuckled, listening to him give you the answers you had requested, as your hands moved over his ribs. There was no swelling, and you studied his reactions, the occasional wince or twitch, but nothing to indicate any serious pain. He’d have some bruising, but so would everybody in here, and there was no hard or tensed flesh under his skin to suggest any kind of internal problems that would flare up.

“Any pain you should be honest about?”

“None but this conversation.” He mumbled, and you pinched at his side roughly, the kid yelping and shoving at your shoulder, making you laugh as he stepped back, fastening his jacket up in protection against the heat, despite the flames now quite having made it to this room yet. “Alright, but you’re not going downstairs.”

“I’m not?”

“No, I need you to go and get the stretcher. Winston is in a bad way, and so is Minho. Both need to go to the hospital. We’re going to be down team members, and we can’t handle this on our own. We also need another ambo’. I need you to go and call it in, get another team and another paramedic here.”

“I can do that.”

“What out for the fire, it’s the big orange thing that glows, it’s hot too, an-”

“I hate you!” He yelled, flipping you off as he exited the doorway, and you turned back to face Minho. You crouched beside him, fingers pressing to his neck again as you took new measurements for him, and you could hear the team hustling around you, the sound of the trucks starting up outside as hoses were unravelled and water was beginning o be sprayed, but it did little to ease your worries, because the flames above you didn’t concern you, it was the occasional popping sound of another canister going up in flames that did, followed by the shakes and crumbling of the building around you.

Clicking on your radio, you tapped your fingers nervously on your knee while waiting. “Zart, Jeff, where are you guys?”

“Right here.” You almost fell in shock at the voices in the doorway, fogged-up glass and oil marks on their uniforms, and you twisted to find the group stumbling through the doorway. With an arm over each shoulder, Jeff and Zart were dragging Winston in, his head lulling at an uncomfortable angle, and Frypan was staggering behind them, clearly having understated the severity of his own injuries. “Where do you want him?”

“Fuck, uh, right next to Minho.” You stood up, bushing down your knees, and pointing to the spot on the concrete as you moved away. “Here; put him here.”

You pushed the entirety of your hand out from under the oversized sleeve, leaning down to pick up your bag, but placing your hand flat to the floor, lips pursing as you felt the warmth. It wasn’t burning, certainly nothing you couldn't handle and it would do no harm to the men laying on it, but it meant that the flames underneath were right up and curling along the ceiling, burning through everything below and threatening to break onto your floor.

It was overwhelming, Fry slumping down to the floor as he became unsteady, and you regretted that he’d even had to climb the stairs at all, but there was no way you would have been able to drag him up them, and with the speed at which the flames were expanding, you were just glad you’d been able to spare Zart and Jeff to help him.

“Fry, I’ll get to you in a minute, okay?”

“Take your time, at least I’m conscious.” He wheezed, a hand resting over his chest as he took slow and steady breaths, and your mind was spinning as you took your bag out from under Minho’s legs, and tried to decide where to start with Winston. There was oil all over the front of his shirt, spotted with burned patches of material where Fry had put out the flames, and it covered your hands as you tried to undo his jacket.

The tips of your fingers burned as you touched the still hot material, the boiling oil against your skin making you bit down on your lip to content he pain, but once it was open, you were wiping your hand across your pants and coat, smearing the black liquid in stains over your clothes, fingertips tainted by the substance. You couldn't see what you were doing, a mixture of blood, dust, ash and oil covering his skin in layers, but any injuries underneath would have to wait.

Lifting his head and removing the helmet, your fingers ran through raven-black and matted hair. There were several swollen and solid bumps forming, but nothing too serious. His pupils were delayed in response time and his pulse was slow and faint, all signs that made you panic, but there was nothing that you could do yet.

“I’m here! What can I do?”

You could have cried in relief at the voice of your partner, and you hadn't even heard him arriving, nor did you hear the other pairs of boots scuffing, Brenda arriving in the doorway ad looking so thoroughly panicked and distressed over the unconscious man on the floor she had a bond with, but she couldn't reach out. Thomas was behind her, and Gally filled the corridor with Jeff and Zart, of whom you had never even noticed leaving, but they were helping to carry the house, and the spray of water reached your ears now as you focused on it.

“Fry. I think he has a concussion, possible internal injuries, I haven’t had a chance to check him yet.” Newt nodded, spinning in the doorway to face his friend, and you turned back to the colleague before you on the floor. “Bren, I need you too.” You glanced back, her eyes snapping up from Minho to look at you, and she swallowed thickly, before nodding. “I need you to watch Minho for me, think you can do that?”

“Yes! Of course, uh, how? What do you need me to do?”

Her words were hurried and rushed, and Thomas was barking orders into the radio on his shoulder that were silent in your ears as you tuned him out for the time being. “Gross, I know, but take his hand. Hold tight, and monitor the pulse in his wrist. Just make sure it stays strong and steady.”

She caught onto what you were offering, the chance to be with the man she cared for without anyone knowing the real meaning behind it, and she let out a relieved breath, a silent look of appreciation and passing over her face as she did as told, turning to care for Minho as you helped her disguise the affections, knowing that she wasn’t ready to be open about it yet.

“Thomas?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled, the radio almost drowning him out at the shouts that came through and you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it, mangled voices all clashing together, and you admired that he seemingly could.

“Can you check where Chuck is with that stretcher?”

“Says he’s on his way down, house ‘35 is sending their Squad and Truck over with an ambo’ should be here in minutes, he’s trying to guide the stretcher around the rubble and broken flooring.” You nodded, licking over dry lips that threatened to crack, feeling his eyes sweep over you as he assessed you for harm, but you had other priorities to focus on, like saving the life of your friend. “Can I do anything?”

“You can come and get ready to lift Winston onto a board, and then get him up top with Chuck. I think we should get him ready to go as soon as they get here.”

His form towered over you as he waited, and you pressed along his chest, wishing that he was awake to give you reactions, but there was still information you could gain from it right now, even if he wasn’t conscious. There were patches of blood pooling under his shirt from where you suspected the worse burns to be, the places where the fire had burned right through his jacket when the chemicals had landed on him, but you couldn't risk treating them now and exposing his skin to the heat that was building in the room, despite the team trying to combat it.

“I’m here! I got the stretcher!” The wheels rattled and squeaked as Chuck entered the room, his body colliding with the side of the door frame as he spun around the corner.

He parked up beside you, the contraception coming to a halt, and you leaned over Winston, reaching up to find the handle underneath the device, and pressing it upwards. The locks holding the stretcher up high gave out, the bed sinking down to a lower level, until the entire thing was almost on the floor, folding like an ironing board, and you began to undo the harnesses. Thomas and chuck helped, getting it all undone, and soon, they were all hanging loose, the cushioned base waiting for a body.

“What now?”

“Now, Thomas gets his feet, Chuck on his hips, I got his shoulders and his head, and we lift him quickly and carefully. We need to move as a unit, I don’t want to risk any nerve damage by lifting out of order, alright?” You tried to remain professional, absolutely terrified at the prospect of losing a team member, and the two men got into position.

On your count, you lifted, supporting his head on your forearms and your hands hooked under his shoulders, grease covering your hand again, and your nails scraped against his jacket just to keep a hold on his slippery figure, but he was rested against the trolley only a moment later, and you hurried to fasten up the straps.

Loose enough not to irritate burned flesh but tight enough to hold him steady for the ride up, Chuck and Thomas didn’t hesitate, before they were setting off and out to meet the next team. You could hear the sirens of the other team now, loud and clear as they pulled up, and between the flickers of rising orange flames, you caught sight of blue, reflecting on the smashed glass of the windows were ash layers didn’t dull the gleam, and the adrenaline in your body depleted just a little as help arrived.

You were down three team members, and you weren’t so sure you fully believed how well everyone else was doing. Clint was down for the count in your books, the head injury and the shock alone taking him off the board, Thomas looked a little dazed as he moved despite trying to keep it together, Brenda was completely and utterly distracted, and you didn’t like the wheeze you were hearing every time Gally spoke over the radio, despite being cleared by Newt. He was probably lying about his condition, you weren’t entirely surprised if he was, they were all far too brave for their own good.

That left only five you were sure of; yourself and Newt who were paramedics, not firefighters, and Jeff and Zart, as well as Chuck, but he was only a candidate. Of twelve team members, you only had five left who were operational, and you weren’t sure that was even the truth.

Your feet were unstable underneath you as you made your way over to Newt, shoving the contents of your bag back inside - not that you’d been able to use much, the injuries gained here weren’t exactly infield patch up tasks - and checked with Brenda as you passed by, who was counting the heartbeats Minho let out each minute as she timed them on her watch, and you would have aww-ed internally at her devotion to him had it not been for the situation.

“How are we doing over here?”

Newt glanced up, worry written over his features. “Definite concussion, some serious bruising, cuts I’m not too happy about but I got it clean. I’m out of paper stitches, used them all on Clint, you got any?”

“Yeah, I got some.” You felt grimy as you slid your bag down your arms, grease smeared across your skin, staining your hands and face as you wiped away sweat, stray hairs and layers of dirt, crouching down and rooting through your bag to find the paper stitches. As you located them, the men returned, the stained and battered stretcher belonging to your ambulance was back with your two coworkers. “Winston?”

“On his way to Chicago Med with the paramedics from ‘35; he’s all good.”

“We need to get Minho on that next stretcher.” Newt was rubbing a hand absentmindedly over his thigh, and you worried your lower lip for only a second, before you had decided on your plan. “Newt, take Minho to the hospital. He’s stable, get him hooked up to a monitor and he’ll be fine. I’ll take care of Fry.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.” You promised, Brenda and Chuck helping to get him all strapped up, before they were losing too, and you turned back to your friend, using a finger to tip his head up to look at you. “Keepin’ awake for me there, Fry?”

“Barely.”

“Just focus on me, alright? Why don’t you tell me about your latest cookery experiment.” He chuckled a little, and you peeled the first of the paper seals form the plastic packet, squeezing shut the cut across his shoulder in the fabric that newt had cut away to revel, blood oozing up over your fingers a little as you did, and he groaned at the feeling, before you were placing the first seal down.

“I’ve never made mac and cheese from scratch before, can you believe that?”

“Never?” You teased, and Thomas knelt beside you both, silent but patting his friend's good shoulder, and you peeled up another stitch, placing the sticky seals down carefully along his skin.

“Never. I’ve been practising different recipes, and I would love to make it for you all.”

“That sounds amazing. I love mac and cheese, so you stay awake for me and hold on, and I’ll help you cook it just as soon as you’re back on your feet.” As you placed the last one that was necessary, you tucked the plastic packet away, searching for your spray bottle of antiseptic, and cupping a hand over the wound to stop the residue flying into his face or eyes, before shaking it thoroughly.

“Oh, you gonna’ be my sous-chef?”

You took the chance while he was distracted, laughing lightly, and spraying over the wound, his groan of pain not missed by your ears as the other house began to storm through the building, their whole team uninjured and functional as they tackled this tragedy. “You bet I am. Think you can stand for me?”

He nodded, but was clinging onto Thomas for help, and you zipped up your bag quickly. “House ‘35 is going to take care of it all, everyone else is waiting outside. Brenda will drive the van, and you can check over everyone else.”

Thomas threw the words over his shoulder to you as you navigated through the building, the pathways you’d used to descend to them all were far thinner than they had been, the floor caving in more and more, and you stuck close to the wall for support as you passed them by, the shine of daylight getting stronger and stranger as you neared the door, and you were sure that you’d never quite get used to the cool feeling of a breeze every time you excited a burning building.

You were covered in soot, oil, and sweat, and you couldn't wait to just get back to the house and wash off. The rest of your team were standings around, the ones who hadn't been shipped off to the hospital, anyway, and you let out a heavy sigh as you glanced over them. You’d all looked better; everyone having taken a defeat today, slumped shoulders and worn-out bodies as you passed your sight over each one.

“I just want to check over one van before we leave, and I’ll check over the rest on the way there.”

“Who’s doing the best?” Thomas questioned, a chuckle rising from everyone at the irony of it, and your lips flicked up as he took your helmet from you, throwing it uselessly into the back of the Squad truck and not even bothering to put it away.

“Well, I already checked out Chuck and Fry, they’re all good. I want to get another glance at Gally, but Jeff and Clint are good to go. I’ll ride back with Squad and Truck can go up ahead.” Thomas only nodded, grimacing as he stretched while moving away, loading your shoes into the van too, and Brenda flopped into her seat within the truck from the second she’d climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Newt already said I was alright.” Gally offered, handling his helmet in front of his body as he came to stand before you, and you raised a brow at him.

“So, you don’t have any chest pains I should know about?” His mouth opened, denials spilling from his lips, and you lifted a hand, placing it flat on his chest and pushing down with a minimal amount of force, but even at the light contact, his words were cut off as his breathing hitched, face screwing up in pain. “You sure?”

“It was no big deal, really. I got thrown, I landed on some material, chest first. It’s just sore.”

“Does it hurt when you breathe?” You raised a brow, smoothing your fingers over his chest lightly and pressing down against the muscle in certain spots as you tried to get a reading of where the injuries were, without actually having him strip his shirt off in the middle of the area.

“A little.” The winces on his face continued on until you were halfway around his sides, and down to the base of his lungs from the tops of his shoulders, purple bruising beginning to flash up along pale flesh when you pulled the neckline of his shirt aside to take a look. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“You’re not gonna’ like it, but when Newt gets back with the ambo’, I think you should go and get some scans.”

“Do I really have to go to hospital?” He mumbled, groaning in discontent towards the end of his words, and you shrugged, a slight smile forming on your face.

“You really do.” He frowned, and you shrugged, pulling your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “Clint needs stitches and so does Fry, so I need to take all three of you, anyway.”

“Oh, so it’s a club thing, then?” He grinned, tucking his helmet under his arm as he wandered back toward the trucks alongside you, and Thomas was holding open the backdoor of the Squad vehicle, Zart already sitting inside, head tipped back to rest on the seats and eyes closed, exhaustion taking over.

Jeff was behind the wheel of the Truck van, with Fry, Clint and Chuck in the back, a space left for Gally. It was much the same with Squad, Brenda sitting up front and a space left for Thomas, neither truck having their usual driver and they felt unsettling empty with half of the team missing, but you forced yourself to swallow down the anxious feeling, the worst seeming to be over, exhaustion being all that was left. The Truck engine started up, hissing as it took off of its brakes slowly, and Brenda composed the motions, twisting the keys to start it up as you came to stand before Thomas.

He stood slightly taller than you, and as your eyes swept over soot-stained skin, you caught sight of the red on the underside of his jaw. Settling a hand on his cheek, he gave no resistance as you tipped his head back a little, his pulse thrumming under your thumb, and you let out a soft breath. “Not too bad, just a little cut. I’ll clean it up for you.”

“Didn’t know it was even there.”

“Oh, manly man, doesn’t know he’s hurt.” You teased, a breathy laugh leaving him as you let him go, and his hand found the small of your back through layers of material as he helped you climb up and into the van, the door slamming shut behind you.

It took him only a second to round the vehicle and get himself in, before Brenda was following quickly on the tail of the other truck onto the road, sirens unneeded as you slowly made your way back to the firehouse, the day seeming like a real blow, a rare day when there was no victory for your team, no lives saved that you could pat yourselves on the backs for, and some of your team already rushed away to the hospital.

As the van moved, the ache in your body seemed to loosen a little, and you set your bag down on the seat beside where you were, kneeling against the cushioned chairs to lean over the backs towards the front compartment. There were so very light burns along the edge of Brenda’s face, nothing any more severe than a sunburn, but the skin still looked inflamed with red and a little sensitive, and you shuffle through one of the inside pockets that Newt had arranged for you, seeking out a cooling aloe wipe, and tearing the top from the foil packet.

The piece of fabric was damp and cool under against touch, and you leaned over the seat carefully, making sure to be gentle as you wiped along the edges of her jaw, her attention fixed on the roads ahead of her, but she smiled a little at the relief of the cooling gel infusion against her skin. As soon as you’d finished caring for the delicate wounds, you used the wipe to clean the tips of your fingers, the rest of your skin still stained with the remnants of everything you’d encountered during your failed expedition, but the flesh of your fingers were clean, a dollop of burn relief cream coating the tips of two fingers.

A patch along her jaw was shiny and a little greasy from the residue of the cream, waiting to soak in and soothe the wound, but it was no longer bothering her and that was enough. Thomas tipped his head back a little, his body deflating under the weight of the coat over his chest, sagging in his tiredness, and his head rolled to the side to peer up at you.

“Me next?”

“Thought it didn’t hurt?” You grinned, a scowl taking place on his lips but the edges trembled as he threatened to smile, and he let out a little huff.

“Fine, I’ll just let it get infected, probably get some kind of blood infection, then I’ll die.” You couldn't hold back the laugh you let out at his dramatics, his eyes glimmering a little in the reflection of the mirror into the back as he caught your gaze.

“You are so melodramatic.”

“It’s a possibility!” He defended, Brenda and Zart adding small laughs to the mix, and your fingers brushed along his jaw, tipping his head to the side and ankling it upwards to catch the light on the cut as you examined it. Taking out a cotton pad and adding a douse of antiseptic to the centre, he held his head in that position.

“It’s a very low possibility. This is barely a cut.”

“Yeah, well, even if it- stings like a bitch, holy fuck!” That made Brenda laugh loudly, the van swerving a little in her shock, and he flinched away from you. “What the fuck, I thought it was ‘barely a cut’?”

“That could not possibly have hurt that much! Stop whining!” He growled a little under his breath, heat flushing over his cheeks as he complained about the skin being sensitive and the cut being deeper than you must think, and his head came back up to the correct angle as soon as you’d rubbed a little healing gel onto it. “Oh, you’ll be fine. It’ll be totally gone within a week.”

“Maybe you should kiss it better.”

Your head twisted to look at Zart, his eyes weren’t even open as his hands sat folded across his stomach, resting his eyes, and you were almost back at the station, your own cheeks flushing with embarrassed warmth now, and you packed your things away as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

“You know, just for that, you get to do reps next shift.”

“I did nothing wrong!” The foremen complained, his lieutenant sitting up front with a smirk on his face as he abused his power, and you grinned to yourself as Brenda all but howled in amusement. You almost missed the crackling of the radio on the dashboard over the amusement, and the shout that came through it, but the static was cleared by the second call, and the laughs faded away into silence.

The mood within the cabin changed in all of two seconds, laughs and gentle teasing with warm cheeks became blood running cold and a chilling shudder running along your body. The firetrucks ahead of you swerved onto the side of the road, their desperate calls for you to stop and join their vehicle made your legs feel weak, and you scrambled for the door handle before the truck had even finished rolling fully to a halt.

Their doors were already open, the body on the floor made you almost rip over your own feet as your mind short-circuited.

Hunched over on the floor of the van was Chuck, his body jerking unevenly in seizures as his hands hung by his sides, and as you knelt by his sides, a sudden cough shook his body, heaving for breath as he struggled to suck in any breath at all. You didn’t have the ambulance, or any of the equipment you needed, and you were left with only what you had in your bag and your bare hands.

“What the hell happened?”

Gally looked lost for words as you demanded an explanation from him, and you rolled Chuck onto his side, trying to position the larger man into the recovery position as he coughed. “I don’t know! One minute he was fine, said he felt a little dizzy, and that his vision was blurry around the edges but we all just assumed it was because he was tired, like us, or had a headache or something. But then he was talking, and his words didn’t make any sense! We called you, and as we were pulling over, he just fell out of his chair like this!”]

“Do something!”

“What’s happening?”

“Is he having a seizure?”

There were too many voices, you had no idea what was wrong, you’d done your initial examination of the boy and nothing had shown up. He was talking, smiling and chatting. He was steady on his feet with no signs of injury other than some bumping and bruising, no internal bleeding or cuts, and yet, he was having a seizure under your hands that you couldn't stop.

Your fingers pressed to his neck as you tried to find the strength or speed of his pulse; slow, unsteady and weak being your answer. “I need my bag! Someone go and get it!”

Multiple pairs of booted feet moved, and you solved a hand into the oversized pocket of the fireman's jacket you wore to find a torch you’d discarded long ago. Lifting one eyelid and flashing the beam of light over it, there was no longer a reaction, his pupil never moving, and your own heart felt like it stopped beating in your chest. Your bag landed next to you, the firemen gathered around you, but it felt like the world was slipping away, crumbling to ash and dust with everything you touched.

The whole day had felt oddly like it was moving in a mixture of slow motion, and too fast for words. Like you were walking through tar, but placed on fast forward, but this was different. This was the moment that made it seem like everything came to a stop, while minutes turned to seconds. It was too fast for you to handle, but flashing before your eyes like a video being played scene by scene. Like an out of body experience, a lucid dream, your hands being your own but the motions feeling detached, as your mind began to shut down on itself in shock and horror.

Voices ringing in your ears; screaming and shouting at you, begging you to do something, and yet you were doing all that you could, but nothing was helping. His seizing didn't stop, neither did the blood he was coughing up, splattering across your cheek in trails of wet droplets, spraying down your neck as he convulsed, across your chest as you leaned over to try and tip his head back to help him breathe.

“We need to get to the hospital, why is nobody driving this damn truck?”

Your hands were on his chest, trying to pump when you felt his body go still, when his heart stopped beating under your palm. It wasn’t the first time you’d lost a patient, it wasn't the first time you’d felt life slip away, your fist closing as you grasped to hold on but their life slipping away under your palms, but this was the first time you felt the life of a friend ebbing away and you were helpless to stop it. Your body was thrown from side to side, violently as you were threatened to be tipped from your kneeled position, sirens overhead and traffic swerving out of your way as the firetrucks raced.

Gally’s voice was clear in the ruckus, muffled but able to be picked out, calling into the hospital across the radio to meet you all outside, doing his best run down of the situation as he called for help, and there was a headache born of stress forming behind your eyes that threatened to split your skull right open.

This was Chuck; your first friend in the firehouse, the sweet kid who always had flushed cheeks and bouncy brown curls who was the first to really make you feel less alone, like maybe you’d found a home, the first person to truly let you in. The first person to talk to you on your first day, the first person to share a joke with you, the kid who made you tea when you were tired and watched romcoms, and had his squad training already all lined up because he just knew he was going to pass his exams. He had a locker only two doors down from your own, and his peppermint body wash always made your eyes sting a little but you'd miss it if it didn't, and you weren’t ready to let him go.

There was crying, wailing and screaming of his name, and it came with a flash of pain in your throat as the voice sounded suddenly hoarse and strained that you realised it was you. The wet heat on your cheek was no longer blood but salty tears, and there was a messy mixture on your face that smeared over your skin as you tried to wipe your tears away, stinging at your eyes, skin feeling raw as the rough material of your sleeve caught against sensitive flesh.

The doors of the firetruck opened; your arms, from your wrists all the way to your shoulders and your back, ached as you continued to pump at his chest, and two doctors you didn’t know had to pull you back and off of him to be able to lift his body onto the stretcher. He was rushed from sight, carried away from you quickly, your team surrounding the doorway as they all held the same look of abject horror, staring after the candidate they loved so deeply as he was taken away.

And then there was Newt, appearing from double doors to stare out at the scene before him, wondering what in the hell had happened, just like the rest of you were, the weight of the mystery looming over you all like a crushing weight, concrete sinking you to the ocean floor. You couldn't take it, not the whispered questions of confusion or the worried glances or even the hands that reached out to rub at your shoulders as they tried to bring you back from the brink, you couldn't take it.

It was Allison standing beside you, the nurse you’d met a couple of times, and your throat felt about as dry as sandpaper as you turned to face her, one clean and delicate hand reaching up for you, but you swerved away from it, the idea of another person’s touch right now making you feel more nauseous than you already did.

“Gally. He needs scans.” Her brows furrowed, and your voice didn’t even sound like your own, forcing you to choke back emotions and swallow down on a raw throat as you tried to think. “Chest injury, he needs some tests done. Clint needs stitches, so does Fry.”

“I can get that sorted, but don’t you think you ne-”

“I need to go. I need to go now.” You nodded to yourself, licking over cracking lips as you looked back to the doors that Chuck had disappeared through. “I need to go and be with Chuck.”

You didn’t pause, not when she spoke, calling out after you, or when Brenda reached out. Not when Thomas called your name, followed by an endearing pet name that was falling on deaf ears, or even when Newt reached out to snatch your wrist, fingers skimming your skin as you shouldered through the door, stumbling in placement after him. You heard him follow, though. The familiar pattern of footsteps that you knew to be your partners as his shoes squeaked across the floor.

You didn’t make it far, thumb jamming into the elevator door button and leaving a greasy mark across the shining silver button; oil, dust, blood, sweat, chemical. You didn’t bother to clean it off as the doors opened, and your blond friend slipped in alongside you once they closed again. He hit the right button this time, and he didn’t say anything, but he did take your hand, squeezing tightly and not letting go, even when you pulled away, when the pull to close in felt too strong, when the offer of comfort felt unwelcome and undeserved, he forced you to take it anyway, and in the silence of the elevator, the first real sob broke free.

They didn’t stop after that.

Not when you stepped out of the elevator, following along to the waiting room you’d become familiar with over almost a year of being around this hospital, of making friends. Your friend was dying, you finally allowed yourself to settle, to believe you were able to have something good, and it was being torn out from under your feet slowly, piece by piece. The thumb rubbing over your skin, and the tickling of the clock on the wall that showed minutes melting away until over an hour had passed was all that kept your panic attack at bay, the rhythmic sounds and motions keeping you in control, even if everything felt like it was spinning out.

At some point, you’d claimed enough to sit down, you didn’t know when, you didn’t really recall the decision, but now that you were sitting down in the chair, every muscle felt like it was too weak to ever stand again. You were exhausted, there was nothing left within you, and you were choking down the urge to vomit with every breath you took. Nervous reactions, the ticks in your muscles, the occasional spasms in the aftershock of such an adrenaline rush, and you were struggling to even breathe at this point.

Newt whispered words to you occasionally, statements that seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, but you’d retained a few key pieces. Clint and Fry were all stitched up, and had been taken back to the station with the rest of the firefighter’s when they had left. Minho was dismissed and to go straight home, and to follow the medical advice given to him by his house paramedics, if your head was ever going to be back in the game again, and Gally was much the same. He had internal bruising but no cracked ribs, he would just be achy and sore for a couple of days maybe even a week or two. Winston was due out of surgery any minute now, burns peeled of fabric and skin cleared of chemicals, but he wouldn't wake up until the morning, and he’d be in the hospital for a few days yet.

Then, came Chuck.

What seemed like hours later, and you were sure it was, if the change in the lighting outside as the evening began to creep in had anything to suggest, and you didn’t need to hear the news. It was obvious, as your friend stepped through the door, the mournful look on Derek’s face even when you knew that he hadn't been the one to perform the surgery, and what left you had seemed to fall away.

You had nothing left to give, no tears left to cry or screams left to let bounce from the walls. It was numb; cold and dark and lonely. You didn’t want touch, you didn’t want comfort or words of calming endearment, or anything else. You wanted your feet to move underneath you, and to carry you out to the van to go back to the station. You couldn't even speak, you couldn't thank Derek for coming to give you the news himself, to be the one to break your heart and deliver the blow a little softer than a stranger would have, but it was like he read your mind, because he dipped down, pressing what felt like a brotherly kiss to the top of your head, before Newt was wrapping an arm over your shoulders.

They traded a few words, things you missed, unable to cling to even a single syllable, before you were being guided along, white shiny halls like a blur around you, until you were sitting in the cold seat on the passenger side of the ambulance, clipping yourself in like you were on autopilot, and resting your head on cool glass, your eyes sliding closed.

You didn’t register the journey, none of the speed-bumps or dips in the road, and the silence in the cabin felt utterly stifling, your skin crawling as Newt drove beside you, slow and steady as he guided the van along, and your fingers were digging to tightly into your palms that you worried your nails would tear right through the skin and shred your palms. Your eyes were burning, holding back tears, and everything in your body felt like it centred on a weight, hanging on a pit in your stomach as your guts twisted into knots, bile rising in your throat as you choked it back, and your body jerked forwards a little in the seat as the van came to a stop.

Newt whispered an apology for the abrupt halt, his parking a little wonky when you cracked sore eyes open and blinked into the light, skin stiff from salt and stained with the horror of the day, and you didn’t bother to reply. As soon as you stepped out of the van, the team were there, all freshly showered and clean, changed into their own clothes and staring at you expectantly, and it felt like you were holding the entire world upon your shoulders.

“There was nothing that could be done.” He let out a sigh, heartbroken gaze flickering over everybody standing and waiting for news in the bay. “He had a-”

“Subdural haematoma.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, cutting Newt off, and their attention moved back to you as you cut Newt off. “He had a subdural haematoma. That, uh, that means he had a brain bleed, a tear in a blood vessel on the left side. He would have been fine if he’d made it to the hospital, if I’d noticed it, but it clotted rapidly. That gave him a pulmonary embolism.”

“The clots to stop the bleeding in his brain stopped blood from being able to get to his lungs.” Newt clarified, and you wondered if the way you were feeling on the inside was reflected on your face. “They tried to operate, but there wasn’t anything they could d-”

“I should have noticed sooner.” You mumbled, and Newt twisted to look at you, but then the feeling in your guys became all too much, and you cupped a hand over your mouth, pushing through the team as you stumbled in the closest you could get to a run. Pain radiated along your arm as you pushed through the main door to the locker room with your shoulder, knees hitting the hard tiling of the bathroom floor and making a cry leave your lips as you fell. The stall door slammed against the wall, a loud and echoing sound that made you wince as it rattled your skull.

Hands found the edges of cold porcelain, tears blurring your vision as you emptied your guts into the bowl. You heaved, bile and vomit burning your throat, and you couldn’t breathe, a flash of panic racing through your mind at the feeling as your body continued to wretch, before a further sickeningly thought crossed your mind as the fleeting thought about Chuck feeling the same way passed your mind. He couldn't breathe either, he had suffocated on his own blood as he bled out, all because you hadn't found the signs of his bleeding, because you hadn't helped him hold on a little longer, because you hadn't been able to save him.

A hand was on your back, and you arched away from the undeserved comfort, before fingers were wrapping in your hair, holding the loose strands that had fallen stray out of your face, before the hand was taking place again, rubbing soft circles against your back through the layers of material. There was no more bile, there were only tears, wracking sobs that broke you down as you cried, everything feeling weak, and you could barely hold yourself up.

That same hand moved, pulling you backwards until you were slumped out across the floor. You were trembling, shaking so violently you could barely reach a dirty hand up to wipe across the back of your mouth, and you managed to blink tear-filled eyes clear to look up at the person before you.

“Get out, Thomas.”

“Why?” He whispered, and you couldn't hold back the humourless laugh, shaking your head before you were breaking down into sobs again, and he shushed you quietly.

“Get out, Thomas! Get out, leave me alone, go away! Just get out!” You thrashed, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you pushed back against him, cursing and screaming. “Why won’t you leave me alone, just let me sit here, just let me be!” Walls were going back up inside of you, to protect yourself as the reality of the situation began to really settle in your mind, and you couldn't put them back up while Thomas was standing in your way, every ounce of pain leaking in. “I don’t want you here, get off me! Get out!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled you a little closer, the angle awkward, your hands pushing at his chest until there was no strength left in your body, and he held you tight. Your fingers gripped at his shirt, pushing weakly as your words became gabled and muffled, and you couldn't take it anymore.

You gave in.

You only had so much fight to give.

“He’s dead, Thomas..” Your words were like the final piece to truly accepting it, and you sniffed, sure that your skin was wet from a disgusting mixture of tears, vomit and snot but he never let you go, a hand rubbing up and down your back as his fingers slipped free from your hair, the ends damp against your skin where your upchuck had caught them in the crossfires, and yet, you couldn't even bring yourself to care about hygiene or impressions as you came to accept that you’d lost a friend. “He died, I could have stopped it. I should have done more, I should have checked again, I should ha-”

“There was nothing you could have done. Newt told us about it. He explained it. There’s nothing you could have done.” He pushed hair back out of your face, uncaring for the situation you were in, and wiping his fingers over your cheeks gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. It’s my job to look after you all, and I failed at that.”

“That’s such crap.” He mumbled, your eyes snapping up to find his, and brows furrowing. “How were you supposed to know what was going on inside of his skull? Huh?”

“Thomas, I’m not in the mood fo-”

“The truth?” He snipped, cutting you off, and his hands hooked under your armpits as he pulled you up to your feet, your legs giving way and weight falling onto him as he supported you, one hand on your neck as an arm held up around your waist, thumb brushing under your jaw. “Look at me.”

You dragged your sights up, honey-brown eyes filled with concern staring down at you. “It wasn’t your fault, and nobody but you thinks it was. If Chuck were here right now, he’d call you out for blaming yourself.”

It was true, you knew it was, and it made your lips curl into the briefest smile you’d ever had.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” You could only nod, his hands now both on your waist as he guided you in slow steps towards the shower. There was grime covering your skin, bodily fluids, grit and dust, all the way to grease and oil, and you hate the feeling of another caked-on layer against your skin. The water tap creaked a little as Thomas twisted it, water bursting through, and you were still gasping for breaths through your sobs as you stepped underneath it.

It was freezing, at first, the cold water was like a shock to your system as you closed your eyes and tipped up into the flow to let the harsh droplets wash over your skin. It began to warm up, and your lips parted, letting you breathe as you tried not to break down again. There was a rattle in the distance, the sound of someone moving through a locker, and your legs buckled once again. The weight of the world on your shoulders, the weight of everything that had happened, crushing you down into the ground, and your back smacked against the edge of the stall, and you sank down, until water was swilling around you as you curled your legs to your chest under the flow.

“Oh, sweetheart..”

Your chest ached a little at the tone of his voice, whispered words that hardly carried over the thrashing sound of the water, and his hand reached out to place your washkit on the small ledge out of the spray radius. His toes locked behind one heel, taking off his boots, before his sock followed, and he repeated the actions on the other foot. Bare feet met watery tiles as he stepped inside the stall, water beginning to mark over the edge of his t-shirt as he stepped close to the spray. “You’re going to get wet.”

“I don’t care.” His hands stuck out, expectantly waiting for your own as he stepped before you, water soaking over his back and clothes, hair growing wet once again, droplets shifting over his skin and dripping from the end of a sweetly upturned nose, and you slipped your hands into his. As he pulled you up, water bounced from his body across your face, and your bottom lip trembled. Tears were gathering in his own eyes, like he was only just getting a grasp on the situation, and his hands left your own, to smooth up over your arms.

A single tear escaped his eyes, lost in the droplets along his cheeks, and he cried silently while the sounds of your wailing filled the space. His fingers slipped under the edges of the jacket you wore, the heavy coat sodden with water, and he slipped it down your arms slowly, until it was hanging from your arms, and he took it from you, reaching outside of the cubicle to drop it to the tiled floors, and it felt a little easier to breathe now that it was gone.

“There are so many people who care about you. Right outside of those doors, all worried about you, all wanting you to be okay, too.” He pushed back wet strands of hair, delicate touch easing the bobble from your hair, letting the damp bundle fall around your shoulders to be washed too. His fingers moved to the buttons along the front of your paramedics uniform, the crisp white spattered with black and red, tarnished with grey, and as his nimble fingers undid each button, he leaned in, lips brushing over your skin, slow and tentative, until he was pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, water dripping over his lips, but he pressed in carefully, hands barely moving between your bodies.

He shifted, only a centimetre or so higher, across your cheekbone, a kiss pressed there, too, as he peeled the wet fabric of your shirt down your arms, discarded with your jacket, until just a wet vest covered your torso, white material going see-through under the fall. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and your neck, and then your shoulder, before he was sinking lower and lower to the floor, kneeling before you and moving his hands to your boots, tugging at the laces until they came undone.

Your hands balanced on his shoulders as you lifted each foot, letting him tug away boots and socks, your toes aching from the strain you’d put on them, flexing a little against the tile when your feet were lowered again. Large hands smoothed up the backs of your legs, circling over the front of your thighs to tug the string of the firefighters pants loose, and he eased them down your legs, revealing the smart dress-pants of your uniform from underneath, and the pile building outside of the stall was leaking water across the floor into a large puddle, but neither of you cared.

You weren’t sure when you’d stopped crying, but you had, sniffling and a sore throat but the tears no longer came, and Thomas shuffled before you. He leaned back a little, clothes clinging to his skin much like your own were, and you raised a hand from his shoulders to push the wet hair plastered to his forehead back and away from his eyes, his head twisting to press a kiss or his palm. You weren’t sure whether it was for your comfort or his, but it soothed you a little anyway.

His hand found your waistband, tugging lightly on the material as a finger slipped underneath, his eyes locked on your own with a silent question hidden inside, and when you gave him no resistance, his other hand joined. He popped the button delicately, tugging the zipper down, before inching those trousers further down your legs. Each movement he made revealed a new patch of skin, and he peppered occasional kisses over the fronts of your thighs as he moved, nose nudging against your skin, until you were stepping out of the trousers, a hand under his chin to pull him back up to his full height, and the rest of his body followed.

His skin felt hot against yours as your palms inched underneath his shirt, locking onto the bottom of his tee, before pulling it upwards. His hands raised over his head, allowing you to strip the material away from his body, ruined and sodden, joining your clothing on the floor. His hands were on your cheeks as soon as they dropped back down, pulling you forwards until he could let his lips meet your forehead. He pressed a kiss to every spot on your face, and every time he did, it was like he was pulling another piece of your fears and worries away from you, relieving you of the pain.

He gave you no hesitation when your hands found his belt, undoing it swiftly and tugging the leather from its loops, before his trousers were following, kicked away and discarded to the ground outside, tugging your vest out of his way so bare hands could smooth down over your sides, pulling you forward until he was holding you so close that the body heat rolling off of him flooded over your skin and gave you goosebumps.

His forehead rested to yours, and yet he never moved it further than that, sharing breath, lips brushing ever so slightly, a tingle felt right to your fingertips, but he didn’t kiss you.

It wasn’t the right time, and both of you knew it. It was a development that was inevitably coming, every snowball of affection added to the avalanche, dragging you both down with it, but it wasn’t time yet. This was a time of hurt and comfort, of seeking a moment of respite in one another’s embrace, and your hands wrapped around his body.

“Just hold me, Tommy,” it wasn’t a crashing realisation, nothing abrupt or sudden, but more of a peaceful revelation as his arms squeezed a little tighter around you, that Thomas had made himself a place in your life that you’d never be able to replace, “and don’t let me go.”

“I don’t plan to.” He whispered, lips pressed to the top of your head as comforting kisses were left there in the wake of his words. Tense muscles in his back relaxed under your touch before your hands were hooking onto his shoulders and your chest was pressing to his, hearts racing in matching beats, as he dragged you in closer.

His head dipped, face pressing into your neck the same way yours was in his, and his fingers spread out across your back.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, minutes or hours seeming to slip by, the rhythmic fall of the water letting you slow your heart down, your chest rising and falling in synchronicity with Thomas’, his fingertips digging into your flesh as you clung to one another.

At some point, he moved, one hand leaving your body to reach out to the shelf, and find some soap. The later shifted between both of your bodies, his fingers moving through your hair with shampoo and conditioner to follow, and the dirt of the day sliding from your skin made everything feel a little easier to handle, less of a burden and more of a weight, shared with the man before you as he helped you to hold it up.

There was more, a whole team, willing to step in and help you bear the pressure if you’d just let them, and you wanted to do so. You were so scared to lose them but it was out of your control, and you couldn't do it alone, not any more.

When you finally felt like you had the power to give in, and to step back, the water was turned off, water dripping along your body and from the ends of your hair, before Thomas was reaching for a towel. He wrapped one around his waist, a blush rolling over your face and a subtle smirk on his lips as he did, the material sitting low against his hips, water still dripping along his body, and you tried not to follow any of the droplets as he stepped closer to you.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d get the honour of getting you undressed quite so soon.” Holding out another towel, he sealed it around your body, letting you tuck it tightly over your chest to hide the underwear you’d been left in, as you suddenly became overly aware of your near-nudity. Your jaw dropped a little, eyes going wide, and he chuckled at your panicked state, shaking his head and letting his fingers smooth down your arm until one of his hands was pressed loosely to yours. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not looking. One day, you’re gonna’ ask me to, and I want that moment to be the special one.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Your fingers laced with his, tugging him closer, and he dipped down, smiling softly as the tip of his nose dragged along your hairline. The door opened, Brenda coming to stare at you both, red-rimmed eyes and a soft smile, before she shrugged lightly.

“You want me to brush your hair for you?”

Something told you that the gesture would be just as comforting for her as it was for you; she was heartbroken, and undoubtedly chafing at the bit to get off shift and see Minho, but your heart soared at the idea that she might find comfort with you like you did with her, just like Thomas did, or anyone else. They were your family, and they needed you as much as you needed them.

You took a seat on the bench before her, and so opened up her locker, producing an assortment of bottles from inside. Her fingers ran over your scalp, separating the hair out as she sprayed something that smelled like watermelon over your scalp, working it through your hair, before following it with a plastic comb. Thomas had disappeared to get changed, and your fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the towel, pulling at loose threads. It was a material you didn’t recognise, not yours, and you figured that the worn fabric must belong to Thomas, because his had been matching.

When he came back around the edges of the locker, you lifted your he'd, watching as Thomas inched yet another fresh t-shirt down over his body, shaking his head a little as damp stands got stuck, and you winced a little at a knot that tugged on the strands, Brenda whispering her apology.

“I’ll go and wait outside, alright?”

You nodded, your hand reaching up to grasp Thomas’ before he left, and he paused, waiting a moment and squeezing back, before smiling. He leaned down, lips brushing over the crown of your head, before he was walking past, and you could practically already hear the words she wanted to say. While you didn’t know what they were you could feel them hanging over your head as she brushed quietly, and the second the door fell shut to leave the two of you alone, she was letting them go;

“You’d be cute, y’know.”

You knew what she meant, but feigned confusion, despite it. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” She teased, poking you in the back of the head slightly with the comb, before she was bringing another chunk down to begin brushing through it. “I’ve known Thomas for a while, but I’ve never seen him like this. He really cares about you.”

“I care about him too.” You mumbled, and while you didn’t see it, you knew the smile that was on her face and could picture it in your mind. “I care about you, as well, Bren. I care about all of you.”

“We care about you too.” She finished her brushing, pulling the strands back out of your face, before she was picking up the next bottle. Some foam, you weren’t sure what for, but she added a few pumps of it onto her hands as she rubbed her palms together, before weaving it through your hair, and you relished in the simple touch of being cared for so gently. “We don’t blame you. Please don’t shut us out. You might not need us right now, maybe you’re used to doing things alone, but we need you.”

Tears pulled at your eyes again, and you turned to face her, finding her in much the same way as she blinked them back, her hands falling away to her sides. “I need you, Bren. I need you because you’re my best friend, the only best girl friend I’ve ever had, and the only person who takes me out for a wine evening, which I think I’m going to need, because I’ll need some girl advice at some point.”

She grinned, a watery and shaky smile, chin wobbling a little as she put her things away, before taking a seat on the bench before you, sniffling lightly. “I don’t think you’ll need the advice, have you seen the way he looks at you? I might be the one needing advice.”

You wiped at your cheeks, laughing lightly to avoid your shyness. “I noticed that you stayed the night at Minho’s last night, on a work night, no less.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“I’m observant.” You teased, and her head ducked, giving her a moment to think over her words, you stood, opening your locker, and searching for a change of clothes. You weren’t shaking as much, and while you were technically still on duty for another hour, you were praying no more calls came in, because you were changing straight into your comfy clothes, a hoodie and some leggings, ignoring everything else, and switching out your underwear behind the door of your locker.

“Thank you for letting me be with him today.”

“You were helping me do my job, I should be thanking you!” You offered, clipping a fresh bra behind your back, before pausing, and staring into the locker at the t-shirt you had available. It was your house ‘21 emblem shirt, comfy cotton, and it felt soft under your touch, lifting it up to bring it over your head, and once you had, your hoodie was following.

“I know that you didn’t need my help, but you were trying to help me. That’s real friendship, thank you.” You just shrugged, pulling on a second pair of socks for comfort, and closing your locker, with your toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, the bitter taste of bile still in your mouth, and heading over to the sink. Switching on the tap and running your brush underneath, you added a dollop of the paste to the bristles, and began to scrub at your teeth.

It was relieving, to wash away the final elements of the breakdown that you’d had, and Brenda was kind enough to scoop up the still dripping articles of clothing on the floor as you did, and load them into a plastic basket. She offered to take them to the laundry room for you, but you had her leave them, saying you’d do it yourself, and then, you were left alone once again, promising you’d be out in a minute to find the team.

The reality was that you needed a moment to yourself, to process that for the first time ever, you had a team to turn to, people you could truly let your walls down around.

Balancing the basket on your hip as you left the room, you took it with you, drips of water left like a breadcrumb trail as you padded socked-feet across the bay, towards the laundry room. You weren’t sure how it should all be done, officially, whether there was a set temperature or cycle to set off the heatproof materials on, but you just dumped it all into a washer too tired to care, and taking a moment to clear your mind.

A scoop of some kind of European washing powder that Gally swore by, and the scent of florals filled the room as you added it. A splash of fabric softener, a few buttons beeping upon being pressed and the lid closing, and then the machine rattled to life as the sound of water rushing through the pipes bounced through the room. You left the basket propped up against the wall.

Newt was the first by your side upon entering the room, eyes wide as he wrapped you up into a hug, talking a mile and minute about how worried he was before cutting himself off with a hiccup, and you clung to him just as tightly, feeling him sag into your touch a little. “There was nothing that could be done.”

You were the only intended audience for the words, whispered into your ear as he hugged you, a hand petting your damp hair gently as it dried in the warm air, the heaters all turned up high for warmth, and the group were dotted around the room. “I know. I’m sorry for running off.”

“Are you okay?” He pulled back, eyes glossy like everyone else's, and you frowned, wiping his cheek to clear away a tear that fell.

“Are you?”

He shrugged, neither of you really knowing the answer to that question right now, but you did know that you would be. With the companionship of your team, your friends, your family, you would be just fine, as long as you allowed them to help you. You shook yourself off, Newt collapsing back down into his armchair, and everyone else seemed to have a place in the room. Brenda was sharing a couch with Jeff and Clint, Fry was sitting on the end of the couch beside Thomas and scrolling through the channels, a space left empty for you.

You glanced up, familiar eyes meeting yours, and he tipped his head lightly to the side in offering. You stared a moment longer, your feet carrying you more directly towards him, and he watched as you found yourself before the space, lifting his arms up as you collapsed down into it. You weren’t shy this time, or unsure about what it meant. You knew exactly what you wanted, and what it meant.

You wanted the safety of being in Thomas’ arms, the temporary relief from the emotional turmoil you had when he held you, to sync the beta of your heart up to his as it thudded under your cheek when you laid your head on his chest. Tipping your head up to see him, you didn’t care about anyone else right now, you didn’t care about anything else, because you were surrounded by the people who meant the most to you.

You saw the cut on his jaw again, running a finger over it, and you tried to push your mind back to before everything had happened, to before the pain. You were in the truck laughing with Brenda and Thomas and Zart, cheeks flush from the warmth of a joke made about your blossoming relationship with the lieutenant, and comment about a sweet gesture to be made. Leaning up, your lips followed your finger, pressing a soft kiss to the spot, and a breathy sound left Thomas as you did, before he was bringing his other hand up to thread into your hair and brush at the strands lightly.

“What was that for?”

“I was kissing it better.” You mumbled, his heart beating rapidly under your head, your fingers brushing and the cotton of his shirt, and Fry finally settled on a movie. He leaned down, a prolonged press of his lips to your temple, before he was nosing gently at the spot. It was far from the first kiss he’d given you today, but this one was different, because it was without anything else hanging over it. No tears, no desperation for comfort, simply a kiss, given in the company of all of your friends as though he had no care about who witnessed it. “What was that for?”

“I was kissing you better.”

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #SAF #smoke and fire #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

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masterwords · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I have a sort of prompt, I guess? but first I'd like to take the opportunity to tell you how much I love your writing and I check your blog everyday! My prompt is taking care of hotch when he has food poisoning? We all know how stoic he can sometimes be and I imagine he wouldn't be much different, even when he's basically having to sleep on the bathroom floor bc he's just so nauseous. I don't mind if you want to write this as a pairing or not, you have free reign, I'd just like to know your thoughts! Thanks, much love :)

Hi! Thank you SO MUCH, you are so kind! <3 I thought about writing this as a pairing but I decided to take it in a different direction and I really hope you like it! I know if Hotch had his way, he would suffer entirely on his own but sometimes he just can't have his way. Thank you so much for the prompt, feel free to send me requests literally any time, I love it! (~1600 words)

Warnings: vomit, sick, pitiful Hotch

***

It began on the jet. Just a gnawing sensation low in his belly as he studied the police reports on the table before him. Everyone else was asleep but he found it difficult to get any rest on the jet, whether he felt good or not. It was harder when he didn't, when he felt sick and threw twice as much effort into appearing fine. As the pain in his stomach intensified, he felt the pull to try and sleep it off, either the pain or the time, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Someone might get suspicious, comment that something must be off if he'd slept, so he buried his nose in his work and pushed past the cramps rooting deep in his stomach.

By the time he walked in his door, he was barely standing. The cramps had become almost unbearable, blinding to the point that he'd pulled over three separate times on his drive home worried he was going to pass out behind the wheel. The apartment was silent and there were just enough lamps left on to illuminate his path from the door to his bedroom thanks to Jessica's thoughtfulness, or perhaps the fact that he'd banged his knee hard enough on the coffee table to see stars and let out a string of curse words so loud he woke she and Jack from their sleep the last time he'd come home in the middle of the night. With trembling hands, he forced his way along the furniture, dropping his bags onto the couch. He thought about collapsing there, it looked a fine place to curl up and die but there was the issue of carpet and the cramps were bringing on waves of nausea with increasing intensity, the kind that could bring you to your knees if you let it and he was about to let it if he could just make it to the bathroom.

“Aaron?” Jessica asked, pulling her robe tight around her as she pushed the bathroom door open. It was dark, she blinked a few times to adjust her eyes. She thought about flipping on the light but something inside of her said to wait, to leave it be. She'd been awoken by the sounds of gagging, a terrible hushed gagging, wet and angry, that sounded more painful than anything else. “What can I do?” She could see him, curled up on the floor still in his suit, bathed in an icy sweat, his breathing shallow and labored. She knew better than to ask if he was okay, he could be on his deathbed and still be dismissive, he knew how to take the pain and suffer in silence. He moaned as she reached out and touched him, brushed the hair back from his sweaty forehead, squinting into the darkness just barely able to make out his sharp features twisted in a grimace.

“Let me help” she whispered, scooting until she sat beside him, her back resting against the cool of the wall. Heat radiated from him while he shivered pitifully against her. He made a soft whimpering noise and pressed his face into her leg miserably, unable or unwilling to speak. He pushed into the comfort of her warmth. They stayed like that, her fingers dancing lightly across his clammy forehead, his cheek flush against her thigh, until finally he felt his stomach shift, settle just enough that he could relax against her. With whatever strength he still possessed, he asked her softly to start the shower, told her he was sure it was something he ate and she nodded, sliding away from him. He curled around himself on the floor, arms pressed against the deep ache in his stomach, the way he felt it deep in his hips, listened to the hiss of the shower and felt the steam envelop the room. Her hands found him in the blinding balmy steam, helped him upright and out of his suit. She couldn't see anything but still she turned away as he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into the scalding shower, sliding down until he was lying in the bathtub beneath the spray. She closed the curtain around him and busied herself, finding one of Jack's sand castle buckets to keep at his bedside and turning on his heated blanket, making them both a pot of peppermint tea. She glanced at the box of saltines, pulled them out for the morning, a minuscule act of hope that this would pass without much more trouble. She wanted to go home but knew she couldn't leave him in the state he was in. As the water began running cold, she settled herself onto his bed and listened as he shut the water off, heard the soft clatter of him drying off and getting into the sweats she'd set out for him, the way his feet padded wet against the linoleum floor. She heard a dull thud, thought about getting up but stopped when she heard the gagging, knew he wouldn't want her to see so she sat bolt upright and waited on baited breath, tethered somewhere between rushing to help and giving him space. He moaned over the toilet, clenching his muscles tight against a pain deep and cold, a rush of blood pounding through his veins. His heart beat rapid-fire as he heaved until his muscles trembled so violently he didn't think he could hold himself upright anymore and he let go, fell to the floor sucking in deep breaths to try and calm the spinning feeling. When he emerged from the bathroom, he was silent, pale as a ghost and somber. He never said a word, they were moving as silently as they could so they didn't wake Jack and even if that weren't the case she knew he would say nothing.

He was shivering when she got him tucked in, pressed the warmth of the heated blanket around his shoulders. He swallowed his nausea, pushed it down deep to avoid further humiliation, forced it to set there like a stone deep in his stomach. Once he was tucked in, she settled in on the bed beside him, pillows propping her up so she could watch television on mute while he slept, at least long enough to make sure she wouldn't be needed again. She forced him to take small sips of his tea and water when he would stir, just enough to wet his tongue, afraid that more would bring on another round of sickness. In the dark he twisted, he writhed fighting against the nausea that wanted to break free and his eyes shone bright like crystals, bursting with angry tears while he furiously tried to keep his sickness silent, away from Jack's ears. She pressed her hand against his head, drawing the hair back, smoothing it with her thumbs against his temple soothing his ache.

When the sun broke through the cracks in the blinds, she woke with a start, still sitting upright. Her hand, she found, was wrapped in his and she had no memory of it. Silently she slipped away from the bed and made her way to the kitchen, anticipating Jack waking up soon excited that his father was home. She had time to make a pot of strong coffee and some buttered toast before the boy came bounding down the hallway, already dressed for school.

“You're dressed,” she said, beaming. He nodded eagerly and told her he wanted to surprise them and get ready for school on his own to give them more time.

“Where's daddy?” Jack asked, peering anxiously around the apartment. She forced a soft smile.

“He's not feeling good today,” she replied, sliding a bowl of cereal toward the boy now seated at the table. “I'll take you to school. Maybe I'll even pick you up and take you to lunch afterward...” Jack was old enough to understand what that meant. His dad was really sick and she didn't want Jack in the house. He looked crestfallen, all of the eager excitement at seeing his dad after more than a week apart gone from his eyes. “Hey, heyyyy,” she cooed, running her fingers through his messy hair. It broke her heart to see him sad. “Give me a minute okay?”

She padded toward Aaron's room, found him with his eyes open just lying there. She thought, somehow, that he looked worse in the still morning light. All of his fight was gone, he was weak and sick and alone. “I was thinking,” she said, crouching beside him, pushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. She knew he was a grown man, a distinguished and powerful man, but when she saw him she just saw the gangly teenager her sister had fallen in love with. She picked up the glass of water and held it to his lips, helping him take a couple of small sips. He wanted to force her hands away, push her sweetness back from him, tell her to go, but couldn't muster the will to move. “What if we keep Jack home from school and we hole up here and watch movies all day? I'll go get his work from his teachers so he doesn't miss anything, you guys pick out the movies you'll sleep through, it'll be great.”

“I have meetings,” he croaked in a voice that was ghostly, hardly more substantial than the wind. She chuckled. Sick or not, he never seemed willing to slow down. That he could barely keep his eyes open or sit up on his own was inconsequential in his mind, and she knew if left to his own devices, he would wind up at work somehow.

“Aaron,” she said, setting the glass back down. She frowned at him. There was more she wanted to say, but he took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, quietly admitting defeat. “I'll call Morgan and let him know you're going to be out today.” He nodded, swallowing thickly as he curled around the pillow wadded into a hard knot at his stomach and clung to it like a life preserver as he crashed headfirst into another tidal wave of nausea. It was unlikely he'd ever eat lasagna again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch sickfic

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years ago

Text

Slow Down

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! Here’s Chapter 10 of Playlist, I hope y’all enjoy it. It’s a long one.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, and take a look at my masterlist HERE to check out the rest of my work.

Word count: ~12,800

CW: smut

T’Challa snuck away from the palace and made his way through the city completely unnoticed under the cover of darkness. He turned his hoverbike off the busy street and made his way to the end of the cul de sac before hopping off and knocking on the door. Chidi answered and let the king in, looking behind him to make sure nobody noticed him.

“T’Challa, what is this about?” Bisa came around the corner as her husband smiled back at her.

“He has something important to ask us, dear.” he winked and she perked up, immediately catching his drift.

“Come, sit down. Would you like some tea? I’ll make tea,” she said as she scrambled off to the kitchen.

T’Challa sat and fiddled with his fingers until Bisa came back with the red tea and sat down. Chidi was tickled by the king’s anxiety since he already knew what was coming.

The king cleared his throat, “Chidi, Bisa...As you know, I love Ashanti very much-”

Bisa unsuccessfully tried to hold in a squeal, and T’Challa couldn’t help but crack a smile. He knew they knew what he had to say, but it still had to be said.

“-and it would be my honor if you would give me your blessing to marry-”

“Yes!” Bisa jumped up and hugged him.

“He wasn’t finished, Bisa,” Chidi chuckled at his wife.

“Oh he got the main point out,” she waved him off and pulled T’Challa in for another hug.

“Well, my wife speaks for both of us, son,” he pulled him in for a hug as well.

The three of them sat down for tea and T’Challa answered all of their questions about royal weddings.

“We’ll have a private ceremony first, just between us and Bast and the Ancestors. The second day will be the public wedding, and the third will be her coronation.”

“And what part do we play in all this?”

“You two have an integral role in each day. You two will lead the pre-wedding rituals the day of the private ceremony, and during the public ceremony our parents must bless the union by giving us away. N’Jadaka will be standing in for my father that day, but as an elder you have to be the one to bless me during the ritual, Chidi. Finally, during Ashanti’s coronation you two will be the ones to crown her.”

“Wow...I-I don’t know if I can be in front of all those people,” Chidi wondered aloud.

“I promise, it's not as scary as you think it is, and if it is a serious problem, Shuri can always give you some Vibax to calm you down.”

“Anything for my baby girl,” Chidi let out a huff as Bisa grabbed his hand.

“So how will you ask her?”

A huge smile appeared on T’Challa’s face.

“Well, as the king, it is customary for me to present my intended with a crown of my own design, and I figured that since she loves American movies so much I should also get her a ring.”

“Why a ring?”

“It is an American thing, the women are presented with a diamond ring for their marriage proposals.”

“Ah. I think she would like that”

“Have you started designing her crown yet?”

He beamed from ear to ear and pulled the projection up on his beads. Their jaws dropped as tears came to Bisa’s eyes.

“My baby...a queen.”

--------

A week later, Ashanti was at Taj’s feeling overwhelmed with all her work. She had been having trouble focusing all week and got next to nothing accomplished so she decided to take a nap and hope the inspiration could come to her. She packed up her things and headed out to the front of the store. It was moderately busy, but she knew her two employees could handle just about anything. In fact, she was thinking about letting them run the store completely so she could focus full-time on her jewelry. She would discuss it with them another time.

“Hey Z, I’m heading out.”

“You ok? You look tired.”

“I just need a nap. If you two need anything-”

“You’re just a call away, we know. Go on and get some rest,” Jafari called to her from where he was fixing the paint brush display.

She decided to stop by Zana Cafe before she went home since she knew she wouldn’t feel like cooking later. As soon as she plopped down in the booth her dad descended.

“What’s up nugget?”

“Just tired and bloated and bleh.”

“That time, huh?”

“Yeah I guess so, I’m a little early though.”

“Better than late!” Chidi joked and they laughed until Ashanti got a whiff of something from the kitchen and gagged before running off to the bathroom. Bisa saw her daughter dash by as she came out of the kitchen.

“Is she ok?” she asked, concern written all over her face.

“Maybe she’s sick…”

Bisa went in to check on her babygirl and she was there on the floor, heaving up everything she had eaten that day. She put the back of her hand to her clammy forehead to feel for a fever, but felt nothing.

“I think my period is coming early,” Ashanti was able to get out despite the soreness of her throat.

“I thought the birth control took care of your nausea, though,” Bisa mused while tying her daughter’s hair back.

Ashanti’s eyes flew open.

“Fuck! No, no, no, no-” she jumped up, still lightheaded, and paced around the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” Bisa slowly made her way up from the floor, concerned even more. Chidi knocked on the door after hearing the commotion and came in to check on his baby girl.

“Is everything ok in here?”

“N-no, I...I...I was so swamped with work I got my shot a week late.”

“Your shot? What sh-...Oh my Bast.” the realization dawned on Chidi right as the door chimed to signal a new customer. “I’ll be back,” he pointed to Ashanti then turned around to greet the customer and take their order.

When he left Ashanti broke down crying in her mother’s arms.

“What’s wrong sithandwa?”

“Mama, what if I’m pregnant?”

“Then you’re pregnant.” Bisa shrugged.

“But I-I’m not ready, T’Challa and I-” she gasped, a realization dawning on her, “T’Challa can’t have a child out of wedlock, he’s already pushing it too far by being with me in the first place. This, this could-”

Bisa shushed her and held her close, wishing she could ease her daughter’s mind with the secret she had to hold onto.

“It’ll be ok baby, I promise. Besides, you don’t know for sure yet.”

Bisa knew for sure, her daughter was pregnant.

“I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow, I think I need to lay down for now.”

Ashanti leaned into her mom and took a deep breath.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Bisa ushered her daughter out of the restaurant and into her car. She got them back to Ashanti’s house in no time flat and when Ashanti turned to look at her mother before getting out there were tears in her eyes.

“Sithandwa, it will be ok, I promise.” She kissed her forehead and Ashanti slid out of the car. She turned to wave her mother off after she opened her door. When she turned and entered she could have thrown up again from the smell.

“What is that?!” she wretched as she walked towards the kitchen.

“What do you mean? The food? It’s your favorite!” Binta looked up from stirring her oxtails.

“It smells like bloody dirty socks.”

“Ew, what the fuck?”

“I just-” she gagged again and ran out of the room. She was fine once she got upstairs away from the smell, but she lit a scented candle Kwame had given her, just to be sure. She stripped down to her underwear and laid across her bed, arms resting on her lower abdomen. Tears started running down to her ears as she let the emotions wash over her.

She didn’t need a test, she knew. Ashanti’s anxieties took over as she worried over the council’s reaction but most importantly she worried about his reaction. They had wanted more time to themselves and didn’t plan on having kids for a couple more years at least, yet here she was, growing his seed.

His seed. T’Challa’s baby. Ashanti giggled through her tears and rubbed her belly, thinking about how good of a baba he’d be. She had always hoped for a girl, but she’d love a little mini T running around just as much. Just as she started to daydream about him talking to her belly, her beads started trilling with her love’s special tone. She sat up and answered the call, allowing the communication bead to slide down her hand.

When he appeared in front of her his face instantly cheered her up.

“Hey baby.”

“What’s wrong?”

She was taken aback by how easily he sensed something was off. It would be harder than she thought to keep this to herself until she knew for sure. She would definitely have to talk to Binta after this.

“I’ll tell you later. Tomorrow hopefully.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he let it go knowing she’d tell him when she was ready.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, I miss you.”

He sighed, “I miss you too. I have been busy and just so exhausted... I think I’m coming down with something-”

She shot up from her position on the bed.

“What are your symptoms?” she asked cautiously.

He was confused by her sudden intensity, but continued nevertheless, “I’ve just been so tired all day, and that hardly ever happens. I’ve been sleeping just fine, so I don’t know what the issue is. And I got nauseous earlier, which makes so sense. I must be sick, but I feel fine otherwise.”

She went quiet.

“Are you ok, love?”

“Y-yeah, I just...I need to tell you something.” tears welled up in her eyes. “Can you come over?”

T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, but of course he agreed and was there in 10 minutes.

Binta let him in and his stomach turned at the smell of the oxtails still cooking on the stove before taking the stairs two at a time and knocking on Ashanti’s door. He twisted the doorknob and grew uneasy when he saw her pacing back and forth around her room.

“Kitten, talk to me,” he went over and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him before kissing her temple. She turned around and he saw the tears in her eyes threatening to fall.

“I haven’t confirmed it yet, but I,” she grabbed his hand and placed it over her womb. “I’m pregnant, T’Challa.”

His head tilted to the side as he felt the slight firmness of her lower abdomen.

“I don’t understand-...how?”

“One: you’ve never pulled out of anything a day in your life, and two: I was a week late getting my shot. I didn’t think it would be an issue since you had yours, but-” she started crying again and he wiped her tears away.

“Don’t cry, kitten. Look at me,” he held her face in his hands and smiled down at her. “You’re really pregnant?”

“Ye- T’Challa!”

He picked her up and swung her around.

“Bast! You- you’re so beautiful,” he gazed at her slightly rounder face. He had noticed she put on a couple pounds, but he assumed it was “happy weight”. He could kick himself for not seeing it sooner.

“I’m going to be a baba?” he asked while peppering her face with kisses.

She couldn’t help but smile at his joy and his tickling kisses, “Yes, Challa.”

“Thank you,” he looked at her with tears in his eyes and pulled her in for a deep kiss. They pulled back and just stared at each other as he rubbed her belly.

“The council-”

“Fuck the council, you’re having my baby!”

“She what?!” they heard from outside the door.

Binta had been walking by on the way to her room and since the door hadn’t closed all the way she overheard his exclamation.

“Binta, I-”

“That explains the oxtail. Girl I thought you had gone crazy, but oh my Bast! You're pregnant?”

“I’m like 99% sure-”

“Oh she’s definitely pregnant,” T’Challa said with a smug smile on his face and Ashanti hit his chest.

“Have you taken a test? How far along do you think you are?”

Ashanti went and grabbed her friend’s hand in hers.

“Don’t be Binta the doula right now, just be Binta my best friend for a moment.”

The two squealed and Binta hugged her friend tight.

“You’re going to be such a good mama,” she said with tears threatening to fall as she turned to hug the king, “and you’re going to be such a good baba.”

“Thanks girl.”

“Thank you, Binta.”

“So, despite what I said a minute ago, I was wondering...would you be my doula?”

“T-they don’t have special royal doulas?”

Ashanti turned and looked at T’Challa questioningly.

“You are the special royal doula. I’m the king, my word is law,” he shrugged as Ashanti’s arms made their way around his neck and she pulled him in for a hug.

“Thank you Challa!”

“Anything for you, kitten.”

“Wow,” Binta looked on, trying to blink the tears away. “Well, I’ll give mama and baba some privacy, just let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.”

Binta squeezed her hand one last time before leaving and closing the door behind her.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Challaaa-” she complained.

“I know, I know, but I promise it’s a good one,” he kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips. “Let’s go back to the palace.”

She threw on her clothes and the two of them walked hand-in-hand out to his hoverbike.

“Is this thing safe for, you know-”

“It’s safe, I made it myself.”

That immediately quelled her fears so she hopped on behind him and they took off. They made it to the palace in no time flat and he escorted her up to his quarters.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” he left back down the elevators and Ashanti made herself comfortable on the bed. She ended up falling asleep and was awakened by his kiss about an hour later. Her eyes blinked open and she was met with the sight of candles everywhere with soft music playing in the background.

[Skip Marley]

Slow down

Let me love you

Darling, I care

I care for you

More than my own self

Darling, I'll share

I'll share with you

All goodness and wealth

“Challa, what is this?” she asked through a yawn.

“Just the beginning, my love.” he kissed her cheek and went to his closet and came back out with her favorite dress. “Put this on and meet me downstairs.”

[Skip Marley]

Seh, we can have just one night

Or we can one whole life

If we play it cool, yeah

We can have that one thing

Or we can have everything

If our hearts are true

Girl, slow down

Let me love you

Darling, slow down

Let me get to know you

“Where downstairs?”

“You’ll know!” he said as he jogged out of the room, quickly closing the door behind him.

Ashanti shook her head and stared at her flowy red dress with double leg slits, “What is he up to now?”

She stepped into her dress and zipped up the side, checking herself out in his mirrors and grabbing the gold sandals she usually paired with it. She added a little jewelry and checked her hair before heading towards the door. When she opened it she was caught by surprise by a trail of violet petals leading an open elevator door. She got in and the doors closed before taking her down to the main floor, playing the same song that she heard in his room.

When she got out she could hear the music playing throughout the palace, and she continued to follow the violet petals when she came upon Ramonda and Shuri with huge smiles on their faces.

“You look gorgeous, dear.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Do you have any idea what T’Challa is up to?”

“Of course we do, but we're not telling you,” Shuri teased, falling into step behind the other two women and pulling up her beads to secretly record.

They walked through the palace in comfortable silence when Ashanti saw her parents near the door to the gardens.

“What are you two doing here?” she ran and hugged them.

Chidi shrugged and held out the crook of his arm for his daughter to take, and she looped her arm through his. The five of them walked through the gardens, following the purple petal road through the hedge maze. Ashanti’s heart beat faster with every step she took and she nearly burst into tears when she saw Kwame and Binta.

“Didn’t I just see you like five minutes ago?,” Ashanti joked, greeting Binta for the second time that night. Kwame pulled her in for a tight hug and she nuzzled into his chest. She knew why her friends and family were here and she couldn’t be more thankful for being surrounded by all their love.

Ramonda and Bisa grabbed her hands and walked her into the center of the maze.

[H.E.R.]

Seh, uh

Baby, I've been fantasizing

Just looking in your eyes

You know I'm looking for more

And you're what I've been praying for

This kind of love don't come around like this

I'm not one to play around like this, it's so real

And I love how it feels

I love it when we slowly sway

I love it when we think the same thing

I love the way we move

The way we move

T’Challa stood there looking crisp as ever in his Bast-tailored black suit with his panther necklace out over his red shirt instead of a tie or scarf. Tears came to her eyes at seeing him wear her tribe’s colors as she took in the scene around them.

The violet petals stopped in front of a pedestal with an intricate wooden box sitting atop it. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, leading her over to the pedestal.

We can have every night, yeah

We can have every day

Ooh, I want you too

I need you

“Ashanti...kitten,” everyone in attendance aww’d with the exception of Shuri of course, whose face twisted up in disgust at the nickname. “You mean the world to me, and you have ever since I walked into your store that day. I know you already know what I’m going to say-”

She nodded, “Mhm, but go on anyway.”

[Skip Marley & H.E.R.]

Darling, slow down

Slow down, slow down

Let me love you

Slow down

Slow down, slow down

Let me get to know you, yeah

Baby, slow down

Everyone laughed, but there wasn’t a single dry eye in that maze.

“Ashanti Iman Mostafa-”

“Yes?” She asked through tears. Everything was happening so fast, first a baby, now this, but she knew in her heart what she wanted.

“Will you do me the honor of being my queen?” He opened the box for her and she audibly gasped.

“T’Challa! I- Oh my Bast, it’s beautiful,” tears streamed down her face as she looked at what was to be her crown. “Yes, yes of course baby.”

“You’ll marry me?”

“Yes!”

[Skip Marley & H.E.R.]

I wanna see you tomorrow

Not just the thrill of today

Don't let our love just be borrowed, no

This is the choice that we take

Girl, slow down

Let me love you

(I need you, you, you)

Darling, slow down

Let me get to know you

Let me get to know you now darling

Hey, we can have just one night

Or we can one whole life

If we play it cool, yeah

Cool (So cool, oh)

We can have that one thing

(We can have that one thing)

Or we can have everything

(We can have everything)

If our hearts are true

Yeah, girl, slow down

Their families cheered and Ramonda held up her hand so they could see N’Jadaka’s and Nakia’s holograms broadcasting from the Outreach Center.

All the noise was lost on Ashanti and T’Challa who might as well have been alone in their own little world.

“I have one more thing for you.”

“More?”

He laughed, “Yes, more. I’ll give it to you once we get back to our room.”

“Our room,” she kissed him, “I like the sound of that.”

“Try it on!” Shuri shouted over the commotion, prompting everyone to echo her sentiment.

T’Challa lifted the crown from its silk bedding and placed it on her head, making sure it was secure.

“My baby,” Bisa cried and ran to hug her daughter. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you mama.”

Chidi joined them, and it was obvious he was trying to hold it together.

“Congratulations, nugget-” his voice hitched and Ashanti wrapped her arms around his waist just as Bisa went to hug her new son-in-law.

She winked and whispered to him, “I told you she’d love it.”

Congratulations were thrown around and eventually their audience dissipated, leaving the two of them alone.

“So do you really like it?’ T’Challa asked nervously.

Ashanti put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her level for a kiss.

“More than anything in this world,” she kissed him again. “I can’t wait to be your queen.”

“You’ve always been my queen.”

--------

“So when are you moving in?” Bisa asked as she and Ashanti waited for the pregnancy test results. T’Challa had gotten called on a last-minute mission with the Avengers, and he almost cancelled until Ashanti urged him to go. They had been up all night, laying in bed and just staring into each other’s eyes while talking about their future. One big thing that came up was his travel for work.

“What about when you’re gone for work?”

“Well if it’s not for something dangerous, I don’t see why you two couldn’t come with me.”

“Who would be in charge then?”

“Shuri, N’Jadaka, mama, whoever. We would work it out.”

Ashanti nodded before another question dawned on her and she propped her head up on her elbow.

“What are my responsibilities as queen?”

“Mama will walk you through everything, but pretty much the same as mine, minus the Black Panther part of course. You’ll preside over council meetings and do all the boring paperwork you always see me pouring over. The good part is, you’ll only have to do half. The rest is up to you, really. Mama started a gardening initiative in the city-”

“I remember that! I didn’t realize that was her.”

“Yes, she doesn’t like to have her name attached to her projects.”

“So I take it that’s where you got your little ‘anonymous buyer’ idea from, huh?” she nudged him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grinned.

“Mhm, I bet.”

He smiled as his hand found its way to her stomach again.

“What do you want, boy or girl?” he asked her.

“Well the selfish part of me wants a mini-me, but the other part of me wants to see a mini-you. I don’t really care either way.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t either, but I’ve always wanted a baby girl.”

“Oh my Bast, you would spoil her rotten.”

“Like you won’t?”

“Hush,” she playfully hit his chest and looked down at the ring glistening on her finger. Every time she looked at the big, beautiful ruby resting in a nest of diamonds her heart skipped a beat. “ Ok, I have one more question…”

“I’ve got all night.”

“How soon can I move in?”

“Half of your stuff is already here, I’d say you moved in months ago. Why not go ahead and bring everything? I want my girls close by.”

Ashanti’s leg couldn’t stop bouncing, she was so anxious despite being mostly sure she already knew the answer. Still, something about waiting for test results always triggered her nerves.

“We, uh, talked about it last night actually. I didn’t really know how to bring it up to you, but I’m, uh, moving out this weekend.”

“I’m surprised you’re waiting that long,” Binta joked right as the doctor re-entered the room.

“Congratulations, Ms. Mostafa, you are definitely pregnant.”

A wave of relief washed over Ashanti at finally knowing for sure.

Pregnant.

She was going to be someone’s mother.

The thought had crossed her mind over the last day, but it didn’t really sink in until now.

Her hips would spread and her feet would swell. She’d soon outgrow her clothes and her breasts would fill with milk. She’d have cravings and kick T’Challa out of bed in the middle of the night to satisfy them. Her bladder would be crushed and her back would hurt, all for that little bundle of joy that she hoped would look like both of their parents. She felt an odd combination of calmness and anxiety at her body no longer being hers, but theirs.

Binta shook her out of her stupor, “You ok?”

Ashanti smiled at her friend, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m having a baby,” she hugged Binta close.

“And I get to help bring them into the world!”

The two laughed and then settled in for the rest of the appointment. The doctor had plenty of questions and lots of advice, but there wasn’t much Ashanti could say seeing as how she couldn’t tell this random doctor who the father was. Then it dawned on her, would this even be a normal pregnancy? The child was half Black Panther afterall...

“Thank you Dr. Obi, you’ve been a great help,” she said as she grabbed her bag to leave.

“You are welcome, do you need me to set you up with a midwife, or do you already have one in mind?”

Ashanti’s thoughts travelled back to her conversation with T’Challa the night before.

“So is there, like, a royal midwife or something?”

“Of course. Ramla delivered me and Shuri, and I would like for her to deliver our baby as well if that is ok with you.”

She kissed him.

“That’s perfect.”

“We already have one. Thank you!” The two ladies left the office arm-in-arm and walked through the city on their way to Zana Cafe.

“So when are you telling everybody?”

“Mama and baba already know. I got sick in the restaurant yesterday- they’ve just been waiting on me to tell them if it’s for real or not.”

“Do you want to tell them now?”

That was the one question she forgot to ask T’Challa. Did he want to wait to tell the family? Did he want to do it together?

“Not yet, I’ll wait and see what Challa wants to do.”

“You mean your fiancé? Your betrothed? Your intended-”

“Ok, ok, we get it,�� Ashanti laughed at her friend as they entered her parent’s restaurant and sat in a booth towards the back. Thankfully, whatever they were cooking smelled like heaven and when Bisa brought them bowls of the fragrant lentil stew, Ashanti dug in like she hadn’t eaten in months.

“This was my mama’s recipe, you know. When I was pregnant with you, I ate it almost every day.”

Binta laughed into her bowl at Bisa’s sly attempt.

“Really? How interesting, mama. It is delicious as always.”

“Mmhm.” Bisa turned and left the girls to their food.

“You know she knows.”

“Oh I know. You heard her, ‘when I was pregnant with you I ate it almost every day’” she mocked her mother lovingly.

Their giggling was interrupted by a text from her fiancé.

T: How are you feeling today?

She smiled and responded.

A: Still pretty tired. Guess what...

T: What?

A: Binta and I went to the doctor. It’s official, you’re a baba!

T: Yes! I knew it. How far along are you?

A: About 9 weeks

T: That sounds about right

A: I have a question, though…

T: The answer is probably yes…

A: It’s not a yes or no question lol. When did you want to tell people? Mama and baba kind of already know, Binta knows, why not tell everybody?

T: I am sure mama knows as well. I’ll be back tomorrow, how about we do it then?

A: Deal.

T: I have to go now, but I’ll call you tonight, love.

A: Be safe

T: Always.

“Ok, he comes back tomorrow so we can do it then.”

“Ugh I have to hold this in for another day? You know how hard it is to keep something from Kwame? Damn near impossible, that’s how.”

“Well you were the one eavesdropping-”

“Ma’am I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t hear him yelling. Your man was excited.”

The two of them laughed and Ashanti’s mind drifted to how bright his face would be when they told his family. N’Jadaka and Nakia were flying in from Oakland and M’Baku was going to come down from Jabari Land to celebrate their impending union over a big celebratory dinner. Steve might even come back to Wakanda with T’Challa to join the festivities.

“So about this dinner tomorrow...who all is going to be there?”

“N’Jadaka, Nakia, M’Baku and Shani, probably Steve and Bucky, you and Kwame, mama and baba, Shuri and Queen Mother, and Okoye if she’s off.”

“Are any of them single?”

“I think N’Jadaka is. Bucky is either single or with Steve, they’re very close so it is hard to tell. I think Okoye might have someone...Why, what happened with Kiki?”

“She’s a great person, but we sort of grew apart. It was a mutual decision, we’ll still hang out from time to time,” she shrugged.

“Well that’s good, but I’m sorry about the breakup.”

“No big deal...about these single people, though.”

“I’m pretty sure N’Jadaka will fuck anything that breathes and walks on two legs.”

“As long as he has his shots, I couldn’t care less. And the White Wolf? I never thought I’d say this about a colonizer, but that man can get it. I wonder how dextrous those metal fingers are...”

Ashanti popped off her pinky, “Pretty dextrous.”

“I always forget you have that thing!”

The two of them broke out into a fit of laughter and Ashanti grabbed more bread for her stew.

--------

“Are you sure you’re ready, kitten? We can wait if you’d prefer,” T’Challa asked of his bride-to-be.

“I'm ready,” she said with a smile before grabbing his hand and signalling for the guards to open the door to the formal dining room that was much bigger than the small family dining room upstairs. All the seats were taken with the exception of the head of the table and the seat on its right hand side. They all looked up at the couple as they entered and stood to cheer for their impending union, causing Ashanti to blush.

The two took their seats and the dinner commenced. Everyone seemed to be getting along fine, including Binta and Bucky, and before the dessert course could make its way to the table T’Challa stood. He held out his hand to help Ashanti up and cleared his throat, never letting her hand go.

“We want to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate me becoming the luckiest man in the world.”

There were chuckles around the table as Binta and Ashanti’s parents looked on expectantly.

“But there is one last thing you all need to kn-”

“We’re having a baby!” T’Challa just couldn’t help himself, it slipped out.

“T’Challa!”

Everyone spoke over each other and crowded around the couple, showing them love.

“I knew it!”

“Wow, congratulations!”

“My baby’s having a baby.”

“Alright! Congrats, man!”

“My little girl...making me an umakhulu.”

“Congratulations, brother.”

“I’m going to be an auntie!”

“My son…”

“My nigga…”

Eventually the commotion died down and everyone took their seats again as the mango pudding was brought out.

“So how far along are you?” Shani asked.

“Just about nine weeks. We want to wait until I’m out of the first trimester before we tell the council, maybe even longer before we go public.”

“That’s smart. When I was pregnant with M’Bari our council practically lived in my uterus with him. Avoid that as long as you can,” she cautioned.

Ramonda looked up from her pudding to agree.

“When I was pregnant with Shuri the council found out before we could announce it to them...total disaster.”

“We trust that you all will keep this between us until we go public.” T’Challa added.

“Of course, we will,” Nakia smiled at the couple fondly.

“How have you been feeling, dear? Carrying the child of the Black Panther takes a lot out of you.”

“It does? What’s different about it?” T’Challa asked his mother.

“We’ll discuss all that later, but Ashanti are you sleeping well?”

“All I want to do is sleep.”

Binta and the mothers at the table laughed knowingly.

“That’s just how the first trimester goes, intyatyambo. You’ll have more energy in the second trimester.”

“Well I know one thing, she hates the smell of oxtails now,” Binta added.

“So do I.”

“You’re already experiencing her symptoms?”

“Woah that can happen?!” N’Jadaka asked, horrified.

“Especially if you have the heart shaped herb in your system,” Ramonda added.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and get snipped then.”

“Good luck with that,” she laughed into her pudding.

“So I know it’s too early to tell, but what do you think you’re having?” Nakia asked.

“I don’t know, I’m fine with whatever as long as my baby is healthy.”

“As am I,” T’Challa kissed her hand then stage whispered to the rest of the table, “Baby girl.”

A chorus of chuckles and “awww” rang out around the table once more as the king and queen-to-be smiled at each other.

“Well that was easy,” she leaned in and whispered to him while the mothers continued their back and forth over pregnancy symptoms, shocking the men without children into silence over the way they casually spoke of such horrors.

“Now for the council.”

“You know, we could always just tell them about the wedding, have it pretty soon, then drop the baby news on them after,” she offered.

“You just can’t wait to be married to me, huh?”

“Well, that’s part of it too...I don’t want to look pregnant in our wedding pictures, so we either do it now or wait until after this baby is out.”

“Now it is, then.”

--------

“That went smoother than I thought it would…” Ashanti mused as she kicked her feet up and placed them in T’Challa’s lap when they got back to their chambers after the council meeting.

“Eh, they saw it coming. I have already referred to you as my queen multiple times.”

“You have?” her eyes lit up.

“Yes, they needed to learn to respect you.”

She looked at him with stars in her eyes. This man, her man, was so sure in his love for her, and it made her feel safe and warm.

As usual these days, the two fell asleep just like that on the couch, but were awakened by both their beads trilling. They untangled their bodies and answered the call, seeing both of their mothers side by side.

“Where are you two? You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago for the fittings.”

“Shit, we fell asleep. Coming, mama!” Ashanti bolted up and the king followed as they both ran out the door, down to the tailors.

“Sorry we’re late,” Ashanti said through a yawn as they finally made it to their fitting.

“Sleep again, huh?”

“That’s all I can do these days, sleep and eat. I’m a cat,” she said, exasperated, before falling back into a soft, cushiony chair.

“No dear, you’re just carrying a panther,” Ramonda chuckled at the frustrated look on Ashanti’s face. She certainly did not miss the feeling. “So, now that you two are here we have to get you fitted for your traditional attire, your robes, and your outfits for the feast in your honor.”

“Mama, the tailors already have my measurements, why-”

“Hush, boy. You need to be here just as much as she does.”

Ashanti chuckled at how quickly he shut up before Bisa shot her a look and she stopped, too.

“Now, T’Challa you come with me. Ashanti, you and Bisa will be meeting with Deka, one of the royal tailors. She designed my and Queen N’Yami’s wedding robes-”

“May she rest in peace,” Bisa said as Ashanti squeezed T’Challa’s hand. His biological mother wasn’t often brought up in conversations, but when she was he always grew tense. She died during childbirth and T’Challa barely made it out alive himself. Thankfully, with the help of therapy, he was able to let go of the survivor's guilt he held onto all his life.

Ramonda nodded in deference to her predecessor and introduced Deka to Ashanti and her mother. They hit it off right away, and the fitting went off without a hitch. Meanwhile, down the hall, T’Challa wasn’t having much luck with Dakarai, his usual tailor.

“Nothing looks right,” he said as he fiddled with his collar.

“That’s because your mind is elsewhere. Tell me, what is bothering you?” Ramonda asked her son as he smoothed out his sleeves. “Dakarai, could you give us the room please?”

“Absolutely, your highness. I will be in my office.”

“Thank you.” She waited for the doors to close and turned back to T’Challa. “So?”

He let out a deep sigh “I think it just hit me that I’m becoming a husband and a father at the same time.”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

“It is...I’m excited, though. I want this more than anything, but why do I feel so…”

“Stressed, nervous, immobilized by fear?”

“All of the above.” he huffed and sat down in an open chair, careful to avoid the pins in his clothing.

“Unyana,” she sat down next to him and pulled his hand into hers, “There is nothing scarier in this world than becoming a parent, but I can only speak from a mother’s perspective. Maybe you should talk with Chidi and M’Baku, hm? They have both been where you are, well not the rushed wedding, but you know what I am saying.”

“Yes, mama,” he chuckled. “That’s a good idea.”

“I have them from time to time,” she stood up and kissed the crown of his head. “I’ll go get Dakarai.”

T’Challa went to his beads the moment she turned to leave, texting both Chidi and M’Baku to see when they had time to talk. Surprisingly, M’Baku texted back almost immediately.

“M’Bari must be close by,” he thought to himself before chuckling fondly at his friend. M’Baku hated their modern technology, but entertained the kimoyo beads simply for communication purposes. He had mastered the holograms, but was still a little shaky when it came to texting. The king was used to his responses taking a while, so this was a pleasant surprise.

His fingers were already flying across the keyboard when Chidi texted back. He was busy running the restaurant while Bisa helped with wedding plans, but offered up Zana Cafe as a meeting spot so he could still be present. T’Challa had just finished confirming plans when Ramonda and Dakarai re-entered.

“Guess what I just saw,” Ramonda sang excitedly

“What?”

“Ashanti’s dress for the feast!”

His eyes lit up at the thought and it took all his strength to keep himself from running down the hall and seeing for himself.

“Your wife-to-be looks lovely, your majesty.”

It was as if all his nerves dissipated on the spot just thinking of her, and the rest of the fitting was smooth sailing.

With only a week until the wedding, Ashanti was just as nervous as her fiancé, though her fears were a little more on the irrational side.

“But mama, what if ten years down the line he wakes up and realizes he made a huge mistake, and he’s stuck with me, but-”

“Now, sithandwa, you know that man loves you to pieces. Don’t let that baby work you up over this.”

Ashanti laughed at her foolishness, realizing her mother was right. She had been getting emotional over the littlest things for the past few days, and she knew it would just be getting worse from there.

“Do a little spin for me.”

Ashanti carefully twirled around while her mother’s proud eyes took in every inch of the gown as she turned.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, intyatyambo,” she said through the tears that quickly formed in her eyes.

Ashanti couldn’t help but cry when she saw Bisa crying, and pretty soon they were both a mess.

“My baby is getting married...starting a family of her own,” she fussed with Ashanti’s hair as she spoke. “I know you’re grown and have been for a while, but...Bast, you were just a child not that long ago! It feels like you just took your first steps, and now here you are. My baby isn't my baby anymore...my baby is having a baby.” she whispered the last past since Deka was in earshot. They laughed through their tears and embraced each other carefully to avoid causing any harm to the dress.

--------

“Thank you for coming early, M’Baku.”

“No problem, brother. Now, what is this about?” he leaned in just as Chidi came over.

“I’ll tell you what it’s about, he’s freaking out.”

“Is that true?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” T’Challa rested his head in his hand.

Both of the married men chuckled as Chidi set out food for the table.

“Wedding or baby?”

“Both, but mostly baby.”

“Hm. You know, the day before Bisa and I got married I had a panic attack because I didn’t think I’d make a good enough husband for her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I almost called the whole thing off. Then she called me right in the middle of it, like she could sense something was wrong. She didn’t want anything, she just missed my voice, so we ended up talking all night. Later I found out she was just as scared as I was and called to calm herself down...The point is, don’t get too into your head about it. You two love each other and that’s what matters.”

M’Baku nodded along as T’Challa ruminated on Chidi’s words.

“And as for the baby, well that is terrifying no matter how you look at it.”

“What do you mean?”

“M’Baku, don’t scare the poor man.”

“I am just being honest. Nothing can prepare you for the feeling of being a parent. You think you have an idea, but trust me, you don’t. It is the scariest, most fulfilling, draining job you will ever have. And yes, I am including running a whole country. Being a husband is not all that hard. You love and support your wife in whatever way she needs, you two work as a unit, and if problems arise there’s always couples therapy. A child, however...it’s like inviting a stranger into your home that you have to keep alive and every day they do something either extremely frustrating or terrifying or adorable.”

“Like the first time they smile at you,” Chidi added.

“Or when they call you baba for the first time. I cried like a baby.”

“And those first steps. We recorded Ashanti’s, I’ll show you later.”

“Watching their personality develop-”

“Their little shoes-”

“Hanuman, I want another...I will bring it up to Shani tonight.”

T’Challa shook his head, surprised his friend didn’t already have his own little tribe of children by now. He knew that had to be Shani’s doing.

“I’m happy we had just the one, but Ashanti always wanted to be a big sister. Thankfully her umakhulu helped us keep her from being a lonely child.”

T’Challa nodded in understanding. He knew Ashanti wanted two for that exact reason, and the thought of having another child with the love of his life warmed his heart.

“I will use that excuse with Shani. Let’s see if it works.”

The king’s trepidations slipped away as his friend and father-in-law answered his questions on fatherhood, marriage, and surviving their wives pregnancies.

Just as M’Baku had begun describing Shani’s third trimester the rest of their party arrived.

“Let’s get this party started!” Prince N’Jadaka loudly burst through the doors flanked by his two favorite colonizers. He looked around and deflated, “You got less strippers here than I expected.”

“On that note, I’m going to take my leave. You all have fun,” he turned to T’Challa, “but not too much fun. I’m not above regicide.”

The group snickered at T’Challa and Chidi left them to their shenanigans.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Strippers, obviously. Just not in his father-in-law’s restaurant,” Bucky added with a roll of his eyes. He and the prince generally got along fine, but continuously worked each other's nerves.

“Strippers, obviously,” N’Jadaka mocked. “I know that, I mean when we going?”

“Right about now,” T’Challa said with a smile.

“To the- wait what’s this place called again?” Steve asked.

“Jungle Cat Lounge,” T’Challa snickered.

“To the Jungle Cat Lounge!”

“You ever been to a strip club before, blue eyes?” N’Jadaka antagonized Steve.

“Well, no, but uh-”

The prince clapped him on the back and smiled devilishly, “You’re in for a good time, man.”

The lounge had been shut down for the private party of five, with all the best dancers performing for their king and his guests. T’Challa and M’Baku mostly just threw money around and appreciated the womens’ athleticism on the pole, meanwhile the other three had the time of their lives. N’Jadaka was right at home as he got lap dance after lap dance and eventually disappeared with one of the girls for a private dance. Bucky and Steve’s eyes were bugged out of their head most of the time and T’Challa laughed at the dumbstruck looks on their faces. Despite the fact that he doesn’t drink and could care less about the dancers in his face, he was having a good time out with his friends until the thought of Ashanti crossed his mind and he had the strongest urge to be with her. He decided to text her to check in.

T: How are my girls?

He figured she was probably busy with her friends at her own party, but her text came back with a quickness.

A: What a coincidence, I was just about to text you. And we don’t know for sure about the baby yet, Challa!

T: Is everything ok?

A: Yes, you just crossed my mind.

M’Baku looked over and noticed the king smiling at his beads.

“How is she?”

“Hm?” T’Challa saw the smirk on his friend’s face and knew he’d been caught. “Oh, uh, she’s good. Just missed me, that’s all.”

“She missed you or you missed her?”

“Yes,” the king chuckled into his glass of club soda.

“I was the same way. My brothers took me out the night before my wedding, too...all I wanted was to be with my Shani.”

T’Challa nodded, “These women are beautiful, of course, but I’m enjoying their reactions more than anything.” He pointed over to his American friends who were both surrounded by women, mouths hanging open in disbelief at all the ass gyrating in their faces.

“They are quite entertaining,” M’Baku laughed at the two of them before taking a sip of his rum. “I used to enjoy places like this, but it’s not the same anymore.”

T’Challa nodded in agreement and went back to his beads.

T: It must be because I miss you.

A: Strippers not doing it for you?

T: Not this time, I’d rather be with you.

A: Well after tomorrow you’re stuck with me forever…

T: Sounds like a good way to spend eternity

A: You flatter me, kumkani

T: That’s not all I want to do to you.

A: You just can’t behave, can you?

T: Nope.

A: You’ll survive a little longer.

T: Will I?

A: This whole “no sex until the wedding” thing was your idea. You’re such a drama queen.

T: I’m your drama queen

A: And don’t you forget it. Well, the girls just left and I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll probably be knocked out when you get back, so good night kumkani.

T: Sweet dreams, kitten.

--------

The next morning the couple was awakened by heavy knocking.

“Get up, busy day ahead!” Ramonda called through the door. T’Challa grunted and rolled over to look at the time, sprouting up when he saw it was half past 9 already. He tried to wake Ashanti but lately she had been sleeping like the dead.

“My love, it’s time to wake up,” he sang as he kissed all over her face. “I get to marry you today, so get up. We’re already late for our rituals.”

She groaned and her eyes fluttered open.

“That’s it. Come on, we’re late. It’s already 9:30,” he said hopping out of bed. “I’ll start the shower.”

Ashanti dragged herself to the bathroom and they quickly showered together and were ready in time for N’Jadaka to bang on the door.

“Yo, Auntie said if y’all don’t come on I can break down the door-”

Ashanti yanked the door open and glared at her cousin to be, “Don’t even try it.”

“Someone’s in a mood on this joyous day.”

“Don’t antagonize pregnant women, umzala,” T’Challa sauntered over and clapped his younger cousin on the shoulder before the three of them headed down to the dining room where everyone was finishing up their meal.

“Well mholo to you both,” Nakia said as she looked up from her conversation with M’Baku. She had been the first to notice the couple enter and soon after a chorus of good mornings filled the air.

After breakfast Kwame and the women went one direction as the rest of the men escorted T’Challa back to his chambers to get him ready for the day. Ashanti and her group travelled to her parents’ home where they had laid out all the necessary items for their ritual.

First, Shani drew her a warm bath filled with coconut milk, special herbs, and flowers, then they all prayed over her as her mother washed her from head to toe. Next, they cleansed the air with incense smoke as Ashanti meditated and allowed her body to air dry from her spiritually cleansing bath. Ramonda wrapped her in a silk robe as Nakia dried her hair and styled it in bantu knots that she would take down the next day to have beautiful fluffy curls. Shuri painted her toes while Kwame painted her fingers and Binta painted ancient symbols onto the rest of her body in white clay.

Bisa and Ramonda recorded the beautiful moment on their beads, and when they were done and Ashanti was all made up Bisa tried her best not to cry, but failed. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as the mother and daughter embraced each other once more, careful to avoid smudging any of her body paint. Bisa held her daughter’s head in her hands and wiped her tears away.

“My baby girl.”

Meanwhile, at the palace, Steve and Bucky were very uncomfortable at seeing more of T’Challa’s body than they had ever hoped. Especially Steve, since he hadn't realized just how...free the Wakandans were. N’Jadaka ran the bath before Chidi washed T’Challa just like Bisa did with their daughter. The men prayed their blessings over him and when he was done, M’Baku lined the king up. After he got dressed in his traditional shorts, N’Jadaka placed the original Black Panther necklace on him as Chidi dipped his brush into the white clay to start painting T’Challa’s face and body.

After the two were made up and covered in the blessings of their loved ones, each group travelled to the City of the Dead to begin the ceremony.

T’Challa arrived first, taking his position at the temple doors and waiting for his betrothed. She arrived shortly after, and when their eyes met and they took in each other's forms they both started to cry. Here they were, in their wedding paint, about to face Bast’s judgement together. T’Challa’s hand found its way to the fertility symbol Binta had painted over her womb and he planted a light kiss on her lips.

“You ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

He kissed her again and grabbed her hand before signalling the priestesses to open the doors. The two of them stepped into the temple, leaving their loved ones behind at the door, and followed the high priestess Hasina deep into the catacombs. They arrived at the garden of the heart-shaped herb and Ashanti was in awe at the sight before her, never having seen one in real life before.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Ashanti asked, trying to keep it light to calm her nerves.

“Quite literally, sister Ashanti,” Hasina winked at her. “You will see.”

Hasina instructed them to lay next to each other and hold hands while they were both given a concoction that would take them to the ancestral plane. The last thing Ashanti saw before she shut her eyes was the warm red sand covering her body.

She felt a squeeze in her right hand and sat up from the dirt, taking in her surroundings. She had been here before of course, but the circumstances were very different and she wasn't able to really appreciate it for all its beauty. Her mouth hung open as she marveled at the purple skies and the acacia tree in the distance filled with panthers lazing on the limbs. Three panthers jumped down and made their way over to the couple, making Ashanti move in closer to T’Challa for protection.

“It's ok, look,” he pointed as the panther closest to Ashanti stood up and transformed into Taj.

“Umakhulu!” Ashanti almost tackled him with a hug. She turned back around to bring T’Challa forward and panicked upon seeing tears stream down his face. “Baby, what-”

She stopped herself when she noticed the two people standing in front of him and the dam behind her eyes broke, too. There she was, Queen N’Yami in all her regal glory, meeting her son for the first time.

T’Challa was frozen on the spot. He felt a light touch on his arm and looked down to see Ashanti smiling back up at him. He took a deep breath and looked towards his parents as T’Chaka spoke up,“T’Challa, there is someone you should meet. This is your-”

“Mama...I know…”

N’Yami stepped forward, placing her hands lightly around her son’s face.

“Everything I went through and he has the nerve to look just like you, T’Chaka.”

The former king laughed and shook his head.

“Now N’Yami, you cannot possibly think those eyes are mine.”

“I suppose,” she continued to examine him with a smile on her face. A single tear rolled down her cheek as her voice cracked. “I missed so much...I am sorry, unyana, but it was my time.”

“I know, mama,” the king croaked out. “I just- I needed you.” He broke down in his mother’s arms as Taj held Ashanti close, wiping her tears away. T’Challa and N’Yami’s sobs filled the ancestral plane and the more they cried the more relief washed over both of them. When their tears subsided, T’Challa looked towards his love and her grandfather, both of whom had tears in their eyes as well. He smiled and reached his hand out for her to take, and when she did he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Mama, baba...this is-”

“We know exactly who this is. Ashanti, my dear, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“We’ve heard so much about you.” N’Yami sent a wink Taj’s way.

Ashanti greeted them both with the Wakandan salute and stepped forward. They pulled her into a hug just as Taj did the same for T’Challa.

“My boy, it is good to see you.”

“You as well, sir. And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making her come back home when she wanted to stay here.”

“I just knew she had a lot more living to do.”

The five of them continued to get acquainted with each other when T’Chaka noticed the colors of the sky changing.

“She will be here soon.”

“Who?”

“The goddess.”

Ashanti’s throat closed up and T’Challa grabbed her hand in his before bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“It’ll be fine, kitten.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, pushing her nerves away when all of a sudden a huge panther could be seen on the horizon. The five of them waited hand-in-hand as she approached and when she got close enough for them to reach out and touch her, she stood up and transformed into a statuesque woman with the head of a jaguar. Her gold bangles stood out against her dark skin and her naked body seemed to glow.

She said no words as she examined the couple, staring into their innermost selves. A smile appeared on her face as she nodded to Ashanti and backed up, turning back into her jaguar form and walking back the way she came.

“T-that was it?” Ashanti asked, unsure of what just happened.

“That was it, nugget. She would have ripped your head off if she didn’t like you.”

Ashanti’s eyes grew wide and she turned to T’Challa who was shaking his head with a smirk on his face.

“Not literally, but I knew she’d like you.” he said nonchalantly.

“Especially with my umzukulwana in there,” N’Yami pointed to Ashanti’s belly. “May I?”

“Of course, I’m still in my first trimester so there’s not much to-”

Ashanti felt a tingling in her stomach when N’Yami touched her.

“Would you like to know what you are having?”

“You can tell already?” T’Challa chimed in.

“Of course I can,” she winked, “Now, would you like to know or not?”

The couple looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

When they burst through the sands back in Wakanda they were greeted by cheering from the priestess and temple aides. T’Challa helped her up and they dusted themselves off before going to rejoin their family members that were waiting anxiously outside. Upon leaving the temple they were immediately bombarded with hugs and congratulations from their loved ones, but they were both still in a daze.

A baby girl.

They both always wanted a baby girl and now here she was, slowly making her way into the world through them. Neither could contain their excitement, so when N’Jadaka asked who they saw, they almost didn’t hear him. Ashanti was the first to come out of their daze and answer.

“We saw my umakhulu...and T’Challa’s mama and baba. They all said hello.”

There was a moment of silence while everybody registered what she had said. The king had finally met his birth mother, and the thought made most of their eyes get mistier than they already were.

“That’s wonderful,” Ramonda smiled at her son and he smiled back. He had always wished that Ramonda had been his birth mother, but now he knew he was blessed to have two mothers. One in the ancestral plane watching over him, and the other right in front of him supporting everything he does.

Ashanti’s eyes finally travelled from her loved ones to the darkening sky, “How long were we in there?”

“About 4 hours, time moves differently in the ancestral plane. Come, it’s almost dinner time.” Ramonda answered, gesturing for them to get moving back towards their transportation.

“What were you all doing all that time?”

“Oh we had our own little party out here while we waited,” Chidi chimed in.

The entire wedding party made its way back to the palace for a celebratory meal and Ashanti felt her nerves slowly creep back up on her thinking about the next couple days.

Only one down, two more to go.

--------

The public ceremony went by in a blur. Ashanti just remembered them being paraded around the city on palanquins before being brought back to the palace steps to be given away. Chidi and Bisa gave Ashanti away while Ramonda and a surprisingly emotional N’Jadaka gave away the king, but the rest of it sort of flew by. As far as she was concerned, the real wedding was yesterday and this was just for show.

The coronation was another story. When the boats arrived at the drained waterfall and hovered down to drop the tribes off in their respective areas, Ashanti felt the knot in her stomach get even more twisted. She looked over at T’Challa who seemed cool as a cucumber, and she realized it wasn’t morning sickness. Just nerves. Becoming T’Challa’s wife hadn’t shaken her in such a way, but becoming his queen and ruling beside him was definitely causing some anxiety to surface.

“I can hear you thinking too much,” T’Challa said, kissing her hand as they disembarked and walked to the center of the falls.

“I’m trying not to, this is just a lot.”

“I know, kitten,” he kissed her forehead. “Just think about all the fun we can have after.” he winked and she chuckled. Just how he could think about sex at a time like this, she would never understand.

He stepped forward to address the crowd and Ashanti zoned out, catching every other word until it was her time to act. She stepped forward and Hasina brought out the wooden box that held her crown and passed it to Chidi. He opened it and Bisa carefully secured the crown on her daughter’s head, making sure the panther teeth were standing tall in their gilded foundation. Ashanti turned to bow to Queen Mother, whose snow white locs were flowing down her back, no longer hidden under her crown of choice.

“You will make an excellent queen, my dear.”

“Thank you, Ramonda.”

Then she turned to her husband, her king, and he pulled her in for a deep kiss, making the crowd go wild.

“I told you you’ve always been my queen.” he pecked her lips before letting her go. They turned back to the crowd and nodded to each other before crossing their hands over their chests.

“Wakanda forever!” they shouted as Wakandans everywhere, whether watching from the falls, from home, and even the war dogs overseas, saluted them back enthusiastically. Mostly. There were a couple who were less than excited about the goings on, but they kept their contempt to themselves.

Finally, there was the feast. Ashanti looked regal in her panther tooth crown and hand-beaded and embroidered royal purple gown, and T’Challa looked every bit a king in his matching suit and panther claw necklace.

After days of ripping and running all over Wakanda for this wedding, Ashanti wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week and stuff her face full of food. She was thankful her baby girl had been on her best behavior and didn’t make her sick at all during the proceedings of the last few days. She hoped her luck would continue into the feast, though they made absolute sure no beef was on the menu.

The king and queen danced and filled their bellies all night before saying good night to their loved ones and sneaking upstairs around midnight. On any normal night they’d be tearing at each other's clothes in the elevator, but this time they were so tired that had they not been in uncomfortable formal clothes they would’ve just fallen flat on the bed.

T’Challa helped her out of her dress and heels and she undid the buttons on his tunic. They crawled into bed naked and laid in their usual position before drifting off to sleep.

The next day, the King and Queen of Wakanda lazed about in their bed, so drained by the last few days that the two introverts just laid there in silence exchanging light kisses and even lighter touches. They had their breakfast brought to them in bed before they showered and got ready together, still in comfortable silence. Nobody spoke until both of their beads rang as they were leaving their room. He cleared his throat as they activated their communication beads.

“Good morning lovebirds, the Talon is ready for you whenever you wish to depart.”

“Thank you, general. We will be down shortly,” T’Challa spoke to Okoye’s hologram before her image disappeared. They were going away for two weeks, to a private island off the coast of Greece, and T’Challa was more than happy to travel for pleasure instead of work like he normally does. He couldn’t wait to see her laid out on the white sand beach, her beautiful dark skin contrasting with the bright blue and white background.

Ashanti paused on the way to the door, “Do we have everything?”

“We have everything we need, love,” he said as he kissed her forehead and reached for the door to hold it open for her. His arms found their way around her waist in the elevator and he rested his head on top of hers while rubbing her slightly bloated-looking belly with his large hands.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Hm?”

“Touching my belly, your hand almost always goes straight to her.”

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it this time,” he chuckled in disbelief.

“I don't mind, it’s good for her to get to know you. You should try talking to her.”

“She doesn’t have ears yet-”

“Neither do plants, but they still respond to sound.”

He nodded, taking in her words and letting her go, turning her around and lowering to his knee.

“Hello babygirl, it’s your baba,” he kissed Ashanti’s belly and her hand cupped the back of his head as he spoke. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

He stood and kissed his queen before pulling back just as the elevator stopped on the ground floor, “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome,” she giggled out and he smiled at the cute little crinkle above her nose when she laughed. He hoped his babygirl took after her mother.

The two aforementioned lovebirds strode through their palace hand in hand with huge smiles on their faces. They made their way to the Talon and were seen off by all their loved ones before heading to their Grecian honeymoon. As soon as they arrived on the island Ashanti was mesmerized by the beauty of it all, eyes wide like a child taking in everything around her. When they got to the villa she could have cried, and almost did. The blue and white building was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the most beautiful beach Ashanti had ever seen.

“I’ve never been to a beach before...this is…” she couldn’t find the words, so she hugged him tight instead. “Thank you Challa!”

“Anything for you, my love.”

She kissed him, and the kiss turned hot and passionate. She could tell he was getting worked up, so she pulled her lips from his.

“Give me the tour?”

“I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to fuck you in every room in this villa,” he whispered into her ear as she giggled at the feel of his breath on her. He backed her up to a wall and leaned into it, trapping her with his body.

“Let’s start in the bedroom and go from there,” she whispered back and he quickly grabbed her thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist before taking off down the hall.

T’Challa dropped her on the bed and when she tried to sit up, he lightly pushed her back down so that she sat up on her elbows. He leaned over and slipped her his tongue while running his hand up and down her thighs.

He pulled back and kissed along her collarbone as he spoke, “Will you let me worship your body? Show you how much I love you?”

She nodded, biting her lip, “Yes kumkani.”

He pressed a kimoyo bead and “Slow Down” started to play through the villa. She smiled wide at their song as he kissed down her clothed body, all the way down to her ankles before unbuckling her sandals and sliding them off slowly. He kissed and massaged her feet for a few minutes and Ashanti moaned from the feeling of his strong hands kneading her flesh. He moved his lips up to her calves and his gifted hands followed before moving up to her thighs. Her moans grew louder as his lips peppered her inner thighs with kisses, moving up towards her naked pussy, but skipping it and kissing her stomach. He kissed his way to her breasts as he removed her skirt and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Challa, please,” she begged as he pulled her top off and took her nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around her pebbled bud while his fingers tweaked her other one.

“Uh-uh, you said I could worship your body. That’s what I’m doing,” he said as he worked his way up to her collarbone, kissing her from shoulders to her fingertips. He picked her up and flipped her over before kissing down her back to her luscious ass, biting each cheek for good measure.

“Ass up, kitten,” he said, getting her into position. “Spread your legs...that’s it.” T’Challa instantly buried his face in her pussy from behind, causing her to cry out to Bast at the way his thick tongue worked her center. He moaned as he ate, the vibration stimulating her clit even more, and as his tongue slowly made its way inside her she let out a deep moan from the depths of her soul at the way it flickered across her g-spot.

“If this is how you fuck your wife I should've married you years ago,” she joked through her moans. He chuckled, but didn’t break his concentration on the job at hand. His fingers slid up and down the top of her erect clit, coming down to pull back the hood and suck on it like he was starving for what she had to give.

“Mmmm, kumkani, you’re gonna make me-” she cut herself off with a high pitched scream as an ocean poured out of her. Her body contracted and convulsed as she covered him in her wetness. When she looked back she could see the liquid dripping down his face and onto his bare chest. She had no idea when he got naked, but as usual she was thankful for the sight of her husband’s naked body. She attempted to turn over, but he stopped her.

“Stay just like that,” his voice was a low grumble at this point. His hands found their home at the dip of her hips and he teased her entrance with the head of his meaty dick.

“Babyyyy,” she complained as her hips wound back into him.

“Patience, kitten. I want to take my time with you.”

He straddled her as he slowly slid into her warmth and they both let out a moan of relief at the feeling of him being sheathed inside her once more. His hips rocked slowly into hers, stirring her insides and making her whimper under him. He leaned down and nibbled on her earlobe as he whispered to her.

“I love you so much.”

“You take me so well.”

“Mmm, Ashanti you feel so good around me.”

“You like it deep like this?”

She tried to answer him, but couldn't.

“That’s ok, kitten, kumkani understands,” he chuckled, his hips rolling impossibly deeper into her.

“I-I-”

“What is it? Hm?” he picked up the pace a little and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he thrusted into her.

“S-stay right t-there.”

“You like this spot right here?”

“Yes!”

“Anything for you, kitten.”

T’Challa’s precision was out of this world, hips reaching that exact spot over and over making her toes curl as he pounded her harder with each thrust. His hand wrapped around the front of her throat and pulled her head up to meet his. His tongue left his mouth and met hers for a sloppy kiss, and as they explored each other’s mouths she took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. He growled at the pain and thrust faster. She was right on the edge and he knew that what he was going to say next would take her over the edge.

“Will you let me fill this pussy up?”

She cried out, orgasm approaching.

“I want you overflowing with my cum. I want you sloppy, I want it dripping down your legs-”

“Yes.”

“You want me to cum in your pussy?”

“Please, kumkani,” she gritted out, hands holding onto the sheets for dear life as his hips slowed back down, bringing her to a long and drawn out orgasm as he spilled his seed deep inside of her. He pulled out and flipped her over, hooking his hands under her knees. Her hands went around his neck as he picked her up and placed her down on his dick. He controlled the maddeningly slow pace and she stared into his almost black eyes in disbelief. No matter how many times they fucked, he always managed to make her body feel like it was the first time.

“You feel so good,” she huffed out as he repeatedly brought her down onto his thick, pulsating dick. He turned his back towards the bed and sat down, leaning back and allowing Ashanti to have the floor.

Her hips cycloned round and round like a corkscrew, pushing him deep and using his dick to reach all her favorite spots.

T’Challa couldn’t help but to take in her beauty as she rode him. He wondered how her body would feel as it changed and grew, and he couldn’t wait to find out. Her pudgy stomach would grow rounder, as would her already heavy breasts. She would look even more like a goddess than she already does, and he wanted to worship at her feet.

His hands gripped her hips as she bounced up and down on him, tightening her kegel muscles as she rose and relaxing them as she met him pelvis to pelvis.

His hand found its way to her throat and he lightly pulled her down for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and spread his legs, giving himself the leverage he needed to really give it to her how he wanted. Their kiss intensified as his hips moved inside her and she moaned into his mouth. His thrusts went deeper and her eyes began to fill with tears that eventually streamed down her face. T’Challa was used to this by now and kissed away his wife’s tears as he fucked her deeper and deeper.

He could feel Ashanti clenching around him and sped his hips up, causing her to scream out.

“T’Challa!”

He chuckled. He loved when she forgot herself and called him the wrong name, and normally he would punish her for it, but he let it slide this time.

Her body spasmed again and a high-pitched moan escaped her lips as he pushed her over the edge. He wasn’t too far behind, releasing inside her with a growl.

The king and queen stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, still connected, until they drifted off to sleep. A couple hours later, Ashanti was awakened by the feel of his dick moving inside her.

“Mmm, kumkaniiii,” she whined as his hips rolled into hers.

“Wake up, love. We should eat something,” he said, looking at the time.

“Ok, but since you started it-” Ashanti rolled her hips and pulled a moan out of him. The two of them went a couple more rounds before finally separating and making their way into the kitchen for some food. The entire honeymoon went like that: they’d lay naked on the beach in the mornings, and fuck most of the day away between meals. When it was time to leave Ashanti almost couldn’t let go of the time they spent there together.

“We can always come back, love,” he said as he kissed her temple and grabbed her hand, walking her back to the Talon and to their new lives as King and Queen of Wakanda.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #playlist #t'challa #t'challa x oc #black!oc #ashanti #danielle brooks

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atlafan · 4 years ago

Text

My Everything - Part Twenty

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, and smut

Words: 11K

a/n: THE LAST PART OMFG CAN Y’ALL BELIEVE IT?! I’M SO EMOTIONAL!! Take it Slow/My Everything has been my baby for so long now, it’s wild that it’s over. An end of an era for sure. I just want to thank everyone that’s been along for this ride. Whether you’ve been with me since February when I started Take it Slow, or if you just binged read everything - THANK YOU!! This is my favorite Harry of all my Harry’s, this was the first multi-fic I had written in a long time, and it feels good to truly complete it. This fic series got me back into writing in general. I’m sure at some point I’ll go back and write some blurbs about my favorite family, but for now this is truly it. I hope I put in everything you all were hoping for! FEEDBACK WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED! (not proofread I’m sorry!)

Masterpost

When you got home in the middle of January, you saw Dr. Johnson right away. Your mother agreed to babysit Jack and Jessica so you and Harry could go together. She confirmed that you were pregnant, and at this moment you were roughly seven weeks along. You were riddled with excitement as you got into the car with Harry, you couldn’t stop looking at the sonogram.

“I wonder if it’ll be a boy or girl. I don’t care either way, but it’s still fun to think about.” You say to him.

“I know, I can’t really decide either.”

“Maybe a boy would be better. I know what it’s like to have sisters, and that it just no fun when you’re going through puberty. Plus, with Jessica so close in age they would fight all the time about sharing.”

“Jack may feel outnumbered with another girl, too.” He side eyes you. “The kids are at your mum’s, right?”

“Yeah, she picked them up. She said she’d bring them home after dinner, she wanted to spend the whole day with them since we were gone for so long, why?”

“Nothing, just…so we have the house to ourselves?”

“Besides Buster, yeah.” You shrug.

“Excellent.” He grins.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Styles?”

“Oh, honey, I’m gonna take you home and fuck your shit up.”

“Jesus, Harry.” You say, flustered. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I’m just being honest. I’m gonna get my head between your legs and just go to town, you’ll be begging me stop.”

You pinch your legs together and shake your head at him. You look out the car window. Even after all this time he still knew exactly how to rile you up. You look at him again, almost in disbelief that he’s going to be thirty-four in just a few weeks.

“What do you say, does that sound good?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You smile and take his hand in yours.

No matter how many times it happened, having Harry’s head between your legs was still one of the most thrilling experiences you’ve ever had. He knew exactly what you liked, he knew how to make it last a really long time, and he knew how to make you come within seconds. You felt so lucky that you weren’t one of those married couples who didn’t have sex anymore, or that didn’t make time for these types of things. Plus, he just thoroughly enjoyed it himself. It gave him pleasure. Hearing him moan and groan against you as he lapped you up made you feel incredibly confident. After your third orgasm, you pull his head up. He catches his breath as he looks at you.

“Want me to fuck you, or are you tired?”

“I…I was actually hoping to suck you off…sort of have a craving for your stuff.”

“My stuff?” He laughs. “The kids aren’t around, honey, just call it what it is.” He lays back next to you and shimmies his boxers down his legs. “Are you sure you’re not too nauseous or anything?”

“No, I’m really craving salt…and…well…what’s saltier than jizz?” You say shyly as he you get between his legs.

“Well, in that case, by all means, get your fill.” He smirks.

You plant a hand on one of his thighs while the other hand grips him. You lick up and down his shaft, ghosting your lips over his tip, really teasing him.

“Y/N.” He grunts.

You smirk up at him before wrapping your lips around his tip. He sighs with relief when he feels your warm mouth and tongue. You pump what you can’t fit. You didn’t want to push your gag reflex because you easily could throw up from doing this. You tongue at his slit and just take in the taste of his precome.

“Feels so good.” He says, almost breathless.

You swallow around him and his head rolls back. He’s trying not to buck his hips up, but it’s very difficult. You pump on him faster and he starts panting. Your mouth stays around his tip as his come shoots into your mouth. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the taste and you swallow all of it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you enjoy that quite so much.” He chuckles and pulls you down to lay on his chest.

“It just really hit the spot for whatever reason.”

“What a nice craving to have, I hope it lasts.” He kisses your temple and you both just lay there, relaxing.

It didn’t last. This was the worst pregnancy out of the three. You were nauseous all the time, and when your spring semester started back up, it was even worse. You were running in and out of the classroom. Your students knew something was up, but you hadn’t formally announced anything because it was still early. Not to mention Jack would ask you a million questions on your drive home with him. Which normally you liked, but not when you didn’t feel well.

“Where’s new baby gonna sleep?”

“In Jessica’s room.”

“In same crib?”

“No, she’s gonna get a bigger crib, and the baby will use her old one. It’s in the basement, we used it with you.”

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“When-“

“Jack!” You take a deep breath. “Mumma needs you to play the quiet game, please.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a headache, please, baby.”

You hear him grumble something, but at least he listens. You get him and Jessica inside, and of course she crapped up her back because it was just one of those days. You sigh heavily, and have Jack come up with you to color on the bathroom floor while you give her a bath. It was a wonder you didn’t throw up from the shit that was all over her.

“How come she pooped like that?” Jack giggles.

“Must have ate something that her tummy didn’t like.” You can’t help but giggle too. It was sort of funny now that she was cleaned up. “All clean, little girl.” You wrap her up in a soft towel and cuddle her to your chest.

“Mumma, can we have pizza for dinner?”

“You read my mind, think that’ll be good tonight.”

You get Jessica dressed, and set up in her pack and play, while Jack gets his hour of TV time. You started doing this so you could get some grading done, and an hour wasn’t that bad. Harry would take over once he was home anyways.

“Babe?” You hear him say it jolts you awake, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep. “Take a little nap?”

“I didn’t mean too.” You groan. “I have so much to do.”

“The semester just started…”

“I have quizzes and knowledge tests to look over. I told Jack we could have pizza tonight.”

“Alright, I’ll pull one out of the freezer. What do you want to give Jessica?”

“Um, she can have a bubby, and, like, some mashed squash. It’s in the jar in the fridge.”

“Okay.” He steps further into your office and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. “You look beat.”

“Thanks.”

“I just mean…why don’t you go lie down for a bit?”

You sigh, but agree with him, and go to lay on the couch while Harry brings the other two into the kitchen with him. You rub your lower stomach to soothe yourself, and you actually feel a bit relaxed until the smell of pizza hits you and you run to the bathroom.

“Mumma’s sick?” Jack asks.

“She’s a special kind of sick.” Harry says as he feeds Jessica. “The baby she’s growing makes her not feel good sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly how it all works, Jack.”

“I…I need to go to bed.” You say. You looked paler than a ghost.

“Are you coming down with something?” Harry asks, concerned.

“Yeah, it’s called being pregnant with your kid.”

“Oi.”

“Sorry.” You nearly burst into tears. “I just, I’m a little frustrated, and I’m tired, and-“

“Go upstairs, love, okay? I’ve got it from here.”

You give everyone a kiss goodnight, and get ready for bed. That was basically how your first trimester went. You and Harry barely spending any alone time together other than when you’re asleep. You parented in shifts, and that was just how it needed to be until you gained some strength back.

You were hoping to know the sex of the baby in time for Harry’s birthday, but you weren’t far enough along yet. Thirty-four. Your handsome, loving husband was thirty-four, you couldn’t believe it. You stroke his cheek as he starts to wake up and he smiles at you.

“Happy birthday, baby.” You coo and kiss his forehead. “I’d give you a little something something, but I feeler dryer than a desert still.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles and sits up. “And thank you. Just going out tonight with friends will be good. Thanks for putting all of it together.”

“It’s the least I could do with how amazing you’ve been. I know I haven’t been super pleasant.”

“Comes with the territory.” He pats at your lower stomach. “Couple more weeks and we’ll know if it’s a Joshua or Jane.” He beams.

“I know, I’m really excited.”

“Kinda like that we have a J theme, it’s cute.”

“You’re cute.” You smile at him and pucker your lips. He leans in and kisses you, but not for too long.

“Daddy!” Jack bursts into the room. “Happy birthday!” He and Buster hop into the bed, and he nearly tackles Harry down.

“Thank you.” Harry laughs and hugs Jack right.

“Oh, let me go get Jessica, we can all stay in bed and snuggle together for a bit.”

“Gotta love Saturdays.”

You smile and nod before going to get Jessica. You change her quickly, and grab her a bottle, and then bring her into the bed with everyone.

“This is what we should do your next maternity shoot, just a group shot of all of us in bed.” Harry says.

“That would actually be kind of cute. We could all wear matching pj’s.”

“That’s brilliant.”

Mornings like these you were grateful for. Just being cozy with your favorite people.

“How old are you, Daddy?” Jack asks.

“Thirty-four, I’m really old.”

“No you’re not.” You scoff.

“I am! Got grey hair and everything.”

“You have one! One little silver hair. You’re not like me who has to have their entire head dyed, you know.”

“You could grow it out, I wouldn’t care.”

“Mm, but I would. I don’t wanna have long silver hair, but on you…” You run a hand through his hair. “It would look good.” You lean in to kiss him quickly.

You had a babysitter come watch Jack and Jessica, so you, Harry, Niall, Sarah, Seth, Isaac, Mariah, and Rachel could all go out for dinner. It was a lot of fun. You ended up at a karaoke bar, and Harry and Niall sang a duet together. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun with everyone. Your friends asked you how your pregnancy was going, and told you how good you looked, which was very kind because you didn’t think you looked at that great.

Harry was having a good birthday, and that’s all you really cared about. He got his annual piece of cake shoved in his face, and many pictures were taken before you headed home. You were in the back of an uber, and he had his arm around you, and was kissing on your neck. Sarah and Niall were in the row of seats in front behind you.

“Some things never change.” Sarah laughs and shakes her head. Harry turns around and glares at her.

“It’s my birthday, so if I wanna love on my wife, I’m gonna.”

“Was just commenting on how sweet it is.” She says facetiously.

“Here, I’ll shied her eyes.” Niall says tugging her into his chest.

“We can wait until we get home, it’s fine.” You say and Harry raises an eyebrow at you.

He hadn’t really asked for sex recently because he just knew you weren’t in the mood, and even this morning you said it wasn’t going to happen, so he was a little surprised at your statement. When you get into the house, he pays the sitter, and then looks at you after she leaves.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it.”

“I feel like it.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.”

“But this morning…”

“That was this morning.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “The kids are fast asleep, let’s go bone on the couch in my office so we don’t wake them.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yes.” You giggle. “Come on.”

You take his hand and lead him down the hall to your office. He watches as you take your clothes off, and he takes his own off. He cups your cheeks and kisses you. You could taste the vodka that was lingering on his tongue from earlier. One of his hands slides down your body, and between your legs, and you gasp.

“Sit down, baby.” He says and has you sit on the couch. He get son his knees in front of you and opens your legs.

“Not a very attractive angle.”

“Why, because of this?” He runs his fingers over your stomach. “Or because of these?” He kneads both of your breasts. “I quite like what I’m looking up at.”

You chuckle and let him do what he wants with you. You run your hands through his hair as he licks over your folds.

“I should be doing this for you, it’s your birthday.” You grunt as he sucks on your clit.

“Are you kidding? What’s a better gift for me than this? Don’t be silly, angel.”

You smile down at him as he continues to make you feel amazing. It doesn’t take long for you to come undone for him since it had been a while.

“Alright.” He breathes and sits down on the couch. He helps you move so you can straddle him. You weren’t that big yet, but this was still ultimately the most comfortable position. “Ready for me?” He asks as he lines himself up with you.

“Yeah.” You slowly sink down on him and groan into his shoulder.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, feels good.” You kiss on his neck as he grips your ass to help move you up and down. Your nails dig into his shoulders and he grunts into your ear. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“For what?”

“For all the times I haven’t felt like doing this. It’s like I’m not in the mood, and then when we finally get like this I can’t imagine ever not wanting to be this close to you.” You nearly tear up.

“It’s your hormones, Y/N, it’s okay.” He keeps an arm wrapped around your lower half to keep moving you, and then keeps his other arm wrapped around your upper back to keep you close to him.

“But I love you so much, and I feel bad.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’re close now, isn’t this nice?”

“So nice.” You bite down on the crook of his neck and suck on his skin, causing a moan to come from him. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You move yourself on your knees to give him a break, and he uses the opportunity to snake a hand between the two of you to rub your clit. Your nails rake down his stomach and he moans again.

“I’m not gonna last, babe.” He was start to breathe heavier. It had been a while for him too, obviously, you couldn’t blame him.

“Let’s come together then.” You nearly whine.

He rubs you faster as you bounce up and down on him. You slot your mouth over his so you aren’t too loud when you both cry out. You feel your release just as his shoots up inside you. You rest your forehead against his as you both catch your breaths.

“So fucking good, I love you so much.” He says and looks at you.

“I love you too.” You peck his lips and then he helps you off him. You wrap your arms around your stomach to hide the small bump.

“Oh, don’t even start.” He chuckles as he gathers up all the clothes on the floor.

“I’m self-conscious, I can’t help it.”

“This is your third time, and you still don’t see how sexy you are. God, and you just get sexier as your tummy grows, Y/N.”

“Good thing I have you around to remind me, huh?” You smirk.

“Exactly.” He pinches your bottom before you both head upstairs to bed.

You poke your head into both of the kids’ rooms, just to make sure they’re sleeping soundly, and then you get cleaned up in the bathroom.

“So, it was a good birthday?” You ask as you get into bed with Harry.

“Let’s see, cuddles with the family this morning, you made butternut squash soup for lunch, and then a night out with friends. Yeah, I’d say it was really good, honey.” He kisses your forehead as he settles in with you.

“Good, I’m glad.” You smile and smooth some hair away from his forehead. Harry reaches over and rubs at your lower belly.

“I’m really happy you wanted to do this again, Y/N. I know I was hesitant at first, but I can’t wait to have another little baby around.”

“Me too, and I’ll be on maternity for the fall semester, which will lead into winter break so I’ll have an extra month off before I have to go back.”

“That’s great! I started talking to Mariah and Isaac, I was thinking I could take the first month off the baby’s born, and then maybe do half days? I could get up and bring Jack and Jessica to daycare still. I think that’ll make things easier, rather than have everyone home at the same time.”

“I would go bananas will all three of them, I think that’s a great idea. Besides, Jack’ll be in preschool, anyways.”

“Yeah, I was looking into it, and his preschool also has a daycare, so I think we should switch Jessica and have her go there. They don’t take infants, so the new baby could go to work with you once you’re back. I think that could make things easier.” He yawns.

“You’re brilliant, babe.” You yawn too.

Soon, you’re both fast asleep in each other’s arms, happy and peaceful.

At the end of February, you have the appointment with Dr. Johnson you and Harry were most excited for: finding out the sex of the baby.

“Y/N…you’ve lost weight.” She says to you as you step off the scale.

“I’ve literally been able to go three days without puking. This baby doesn’t like me very much.” You pout as you get up on the table.

“Are you taking all the vitamins I’ve given you?”

“Yes, every day.” Harry stands next to you and holds your hand as Dr. Johnson gets the ultrasound ready.

“Okay, well, hopefully it will subside for the rest. I’m sorry it’s been trickier for you this time around.”

“It’s okay.” You sigh.

She moves the ultrasound around and you both smile when you hear the heartbeat.

“Are curious about the sex?” She asks.

“Very.” Harry says.

“Okay…” She squints at the monitor, and then smiles. “Seems like you’re having another boy, congratulations.”

You both tear up and kiss and giggle.

“Do you have a name in mind already?” She asks as she cleans your belly up.

“Joshua.” You say. “Joshua Edward.”

“That’s beautiful, I love that he and Jack will have the same middle name.”

“We thought it would be cute.” You nod.

You and Harry were absolutely giddy when you got into the car, giggling a ton on the drive to the university to pick the kids up.

“Okay, so, he can share with Jessica for a bit, and then-“

“Let’s just turn the guest room into the nursery.” He cuts you off.

“Harry, what about when your family comes to visit?”

“That room is big enough to stick a pullout in, we can sleep on that and guests can have our room. When they get older they can share, but you know he’ll be on a different sleep schedule than Jessica, she wouldn’t get any sleep with a newborn.”

“That’s true, I didn’t really think of that. Where are we going to put the extra bed?”

“We could stick it in the basement…I was actually sort of thinking we could get the basement partially finished, we could turn that into another guest room, or game room, or something.”

“Okay, money bags.” You laugh.

“I’m serious! I could do a lot of the work myself, and your dad could help with the electrical part. It’s already got all the dry wall up, just need to plaster, paint, and then put some carpet down.”

“If you would like to take that project on, then be my guest. Just promise me you’ll leave my little gym area alone.”

“Can do.” He takes your hand and kisses it. “I bet Jack’s gonna be so excited that he’s gonna have a little brother.”

“It’ll probably be more fun once they’re older, he’s gonna have four years on him, don’t forget. Joshua will be closer with Jessica.”

“Are we always gonna be so formal? I might call him Josh or Joshy.”

“Aw, Joshy is so cute! No, we don’t have to be formal.” You shrug. “I just don’t want anyone calling Jessica Jessy, I’d prefer Jess if anything.”

“Agreed.”

You both go into the daycare to pick up Jack and Jessica. You couldn’t believe she’d be a year old soon, just a month or so away. And Jack was going to be four in just two months. Time was flying way too fast.

Florida in March was literally perfect, even while pregnant. You were over being nauseous now which was good. Nannie was so happy you and the family were coming for a visit. There was plenty there for Jack and Jessica to do. Harry took them both in the pool that her retirement community had. Of course, all of the old ladies in the pool flocked to him, and you had to go in and help a few times.

“I can’t believe she’s almost a year old, I can barely pick her up!” Nannie chuckles as she snuggles with Jessica one evening.

“I know! She’s even started saying a few words. She can sort of say Mumma, Jack says it all the time so I think she’s being picking it up from him.” You say.

“And she says ‘ack’ when she wants Jack, it’s really cute.” Harry says. Jack was in his lap trying to keep his eyes open. “I think it’s time you went to bed, buddy.”

“Her too.” You get up and take Jessica from Nannie. Once they’re both down and tucked in you join her in the living room.

“So, there’s something I’d like to talk with you both about. Last time we spoke on the phone, Y/N mentioned that you were looking into getting a larger car, and I’d like to pay for it.”

“No, no way, Nannie, that’s way too-“ You start, but she cuts you off.

“It’s something I can give you that I know will last. You already have cribs and baby clothes and all that. You’ll need a larger car, and I wanna pay for it, so you’ll let me write you a check, and that’ll be that.”

“You can’t seriously expect us to let you just buy us a new car…” Harry says.

“Oh, but I do. You could take whatever one you’re not using off the road and save it for when one of them gets older, or you could trade it in, or whatever you feel like doing with it.” She shrugs. “I have more money than I know what do with.”

“Just because you write us a check doesn’t mean we have to cash it. We’re perfectly capable of buying our own car, Nannie.” You say.

“You’ll take it, you’ll cash it, and you’ll get whatever car you want. Save that money and put it towards their college funds, or for their bar and bat mitzvahs, you know as well I do those are just as expensive as purchasing a car.”

“That’s true.” You nod.

“Wait, what?”

“The parties can really wrack up, Har, we’ll talk about it later.” You sigh. “You really wanna buy us a car?”

“I do.” She nods. “You need something with three rows of seats, or at least an SUV instead of that little thing you drive. You’ll have three cars seats to worry about before you know it.” She smiles. “So, just say thank you and deal with it.”

“Thank you.” You both say and get up to hug her.

“You’re more than welcome, kids, I’m happy to do it.”

To say you were emotional on Jessica’s first birthday was an understatement. Your hormones were causing you to cry every two seconds. You were hosting a small party at your house, and it was great to have family over, but you were a blubbering mess.

“Babe, it’s okay.” Harry chuckles.

“I know, I just can’t believe our little girl is a year old already. And Jack’s gonna be four before we know it and starting preschool. It’s all too much.”

“Try not to think too far ahead, yeah?” He puts an arm around your shoulders and kisses your cheek. He gives your lower belly a little rub. “Don’t wanna stress this one out.”

“We should do the maternity shoot next month. I’m still feeling good about how I look, it would be nice to feel good in pictures.”

“Whatever you wanna do, honey.”

It was time for cake, so you hold Jessica on your hip while Harry holds Jack up. The three of you blow out the candles while Jessica giggles and claps. She got cake all over her face, which was her right as a one-year-old. It was a bittersweet day to say the least.

On the day of your five year wedding anniversary, you woke up to feeling lots of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, and a smile grows on your face.

“Good morning.” You say as you look at Harry, who was already climbing on top of you.

“Morning, love.”

“You wanna have sex now? Don’t wanna wait until later?”

“You’ll be too tired later.” He mumbles as he sucks on your neck. “I’ve got a lot planned today.”

“Oh, honey, I’m just happy to be spending the day with you, we don’t need to go crazy.”

“I don’t think getting pedicures together is going crazy, exactly.”

“God, I can’t wait. I’m so grateful Niall and Sarah said they could babysit.”

He hums his response as he kisses on your chest, lifting your shirt all the way off. His hand slips between your legs, and you let out a small gasp. You raise your hips to grind against his hand. This was the part of the pregnancy Harry loved the most. You had leveled out a bit, and now you wanted him every second you could have him.

Once you’re wet enough from him just rubbing around your folds, he slides two of his fingers inside you. Your head rolls back into the pillows and you groan. His thumb rubs your clit in pressured circles. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you cling to him. He sponges his mouth over your next and over your chest.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Feels good?”

“Yes.” You start panting his fingers rub against your g-spot. “Fuck, yes, Harry, don’t stop.” You bite your bottom lip as you squeeze around his fingers.

“You’re so wet, baby.” He groans. “Come for me, come on.”

“Shit!” You cry out and clap a hand over your mouth as you ride it out.

He sucks his fingers into his mouth once he takes them away from you. He moves to up against the headboard, and helps you get on top of him. You slowly sink down on his hard dick after giving it a few pumps. His hands grip your ass to help you move up and down. You press your face into his neck to stay quiet.

“You feel so fucking good.” He moans and holds you closer to him as he thrusts up inside you. “Y/N.” He moans again. God, he wasn’t making staying quiet easy. You loved hearing Harry moan, but you wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to wake your kids up.

“H-Harry.” You can barely speak at this point. Your clit was rubbing against him, so you weren’t going to last much longer. You grip his chin, and hook your fingers onto his bottom lip to get him to open up for you. “You’re being too loud.” You groan.

He sucks on your fingers to try to keep it down, but he was really struggling this morning, for whatever reason. He was always into it, but today he was especially lost in the euphoria of your sex. You use your other hand to tug at his hair, and you look up to see his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Oh fuck!” You moan into his neck as you come undone. Watching him lose himself never failed to get you there.

He moans around your fingers as he releases up inside you. You retract your hand from his mouth so he can properly catch his breath. You look up at him and he slots his mouth over yours. He licks into you, which normally you didn’t love first thing in the morning, but you were so far gone you didn’t care right now.

“Fuck.” He breathes and presses his forehead to yours. “You’re so fucking sexy like this, Y/N.”

“Harry, please.” You giggle.

“I mean it.” He cups your jaw with one of his hands. “Not only is it our anniversary, but you’re carrying another one of my kids. It’s all I could want.”

“Me too, babe.” You peck his lips. “Could you, uh, help me off?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.”

He grips your hips to gently lift you off of him. He helps you into the bathroom, and you both take a nice shower together. You kiss and pet on each other, but it doesn’t go much farther than that since you need to get the day started for Jack and Jessica.

“I was thinking we could have dinner, like, in Boston tonight, what do you say?” Harry asks as he gets Jessica’s diaper bag packed.

“That sounds nice, babe.”

You drop the kids off at Niall and Sarah’s, who were more than happy to watch them for the day. It had been ages since you and Harry had a spa day together. You loved it when you could get away to have one since it always reminded you of the earlier days of your relationship.

You both enjoy how soothing the pedicure is, falling asleep leaning on each other. With your feet getting more swollen by the day, this was exactly what you needed. Once it’s all done, and you make your way further into the city, Harry keeps his hand in yours.

“Feel free to snooze, honey, we may hit traffic.”

“You know how bad I feel when I sleep when you’re driving…”

“It’s really okay, I’d rather you be fully awake during dinner.” He smiles. “Go on, I know you’re tired.”

“That pedicure was just so relaxing.”

“We really got the works done today.”

“Mm, I’m glad we did. I love getting to do that with you.”

“Me too, babe.”

You end up dozing off, and you’re startles awake from Harry’s hand nudging your shoulder. You blink a few times and squint to see where you are.

“Are we at Castle Island?” You ask him.

“What better place to celebrate our five year anniversary than the very place I asked you to marry me?”

“Oh, Harry…” Your bottom lip starts to quiver.

“Don’t cry.” He chuckles.

“I can’t help it, this is so sweet.”

“Well, nothing’s even happened yet, we sort of need to get out of the car.”

“Right.” You laugh and wipe under your eyes.

Harry jogs around the other side of the car to help you out, and you both walk down to the park. Your smile grows when you see your friends and your kids. Sully’s had catered, of course, and there were twinkling lights strung up around the playground.

“Mumma!” Jack exclaims and runs over to you.

“Hi, baby.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Very.” You giggle and hoist him up onto your hip. Harry goes over to Jessica, who was in a stroller, and picks her up.

“Alright, family photo time.” Niall says. “Go on, Buster.”

The dog barks and plops in front of you, and Niall takes a few pictures. You all sit down at the various picnic tables provided, and reminisce about the day Harry proposed, and your wedding.

“I can’t believe how fast five years can fly by, and that’s just our marriage, we’ve been together, what? Almost eight years?” You look at Harry.

“Yeah, this September will be eight years.” He smiles at you and kisses your temple.

“Daddy, how did you ask Mumma to marry you?” Jack asks.

“Well, I could tell you or I could show you.” Harry fishes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the video to show Jack.

“Mumma, look at you!”

“I know! I was cute young thing, huh?”

“Still plenty young and plenty cute.” Harry side eyes you.

“Mhm, keep watching the video.” You nudge him. It does bring a few tears to your eyes. “That was one of the greatest days of my life.”

“Mine too.”

“Harry, show him some pictures from our wedding.”

“Alright.” He chuckles and pulls a few up.

“Pretty suit, Daddy.”

“Thank you.” Harry kisses the top of Jack’s head.

“Your Uncle Niall officiated the whole thing, it was incredible. When you’re a little older we’ll show you more.” You say.

It was the perfect evening with friends. Harry still found little ways to surprise you, and you loved it. He could be so sentimental and made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It felt like you had a party every month, but that was how things went when Jessica’s birthday and your anniversary were in April, and when Jack’s birthday was in May. His party was a little less family oriented, although plenty of family still came. You and Harry thought it would be fun to rent out a gymnastics studio for an afternoon for Jack and all his friends from daycare.

The other parents were eternally grateful because they knew all of their kids would sleep well after running and jumping around. Jack was overjoyed. He liked being able to do tricks on the trampoline. You couldn’t believe your baby boy was four, but here you were. He’d be starting preschool in fall, another thing you just couldn’t believe.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Harry sat on the floor with Jessica and helped her do little flips and jumps. Her laugh was hysterical. You rub your lower stomach.

“You’re gonna have the best Daddy in the world, Joshua.” You say to your stomach quietly.

The other good thing about having the party somewhere other than your house was that you barely had to host. You got to sit back with the other parents and just hang out for a bit until it was time for cake and gifts.

Needless to say, Jack zonked right out when you put him to bed, as did Jessica. Not that they needed to have a party every year for every birthday, but you could definitely see yourself doing more parties at other places. It was such a breeze today.

“Baby, you don’t have to do that.” You giggle as Harry rubs your feet once you’re in bed.

“But you were on your feet all day, you must be so sore.”

“A little, but it’s not too bad.”

“It was a good day, huh?”

“Very good. I feel like he’ll really remember this one, you know?” Harry hums his response. “I’m really glad we’re having this baby, helps fill the void of the other two growing up.”

“I wish I had that on camera because I don’t think you’ll be saying that once Jessica’s going through her terrible two’s. You’ll have her in one arm and an infant in the other.” He smirks.

“Mm, pretty sure I have a husband to help me with all that.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be busy helping our son with school work.”

“He’ll be in kindergarten by the time Jess is two, what school work could he possibly need help with?” You laugh.

“The alphabet, counting to one-hundred, coloring inside the lines.”

“If anyone’s going to be the homework parent, it’s going to be me. I am a teacher after all.”

“I dare you to sit down and do some basic math.”

“God, okay, you can be the homework parent.” You bite your bottom lip when his thumb digs into a certain spot in your foot. “Thank you for this by the way, I admit I need it.”

“Anytime, my love.”

Once Harry’s done with your feet, he helps rub some lotion on your swollen tummy. Then he rests his head on one of your thighs while he talks to the baby. He tells him all about Jack’s birthday party. You cards your fingers through his hair while he does so. These were the sweet and tender moments that you’d treasure forever.

Later that week you had your maternity shoot. This time around you did things in the backyard on an overcast day, so the lighting was perfect. You all had summery clothes on, and you did something similar with the hand prints on your stomach with the paint like you had done last time. Jack showed Jessica what to do, and they both had fun pressing their hands onto your stomach. They did the same to Harry’s, which made you laugh because it looked silly with his tattoos. The pictures were gorgeous.

“Now I can get all three sets framed together, it’ll look so nice in my office.” Harry tells you as you both clean up the paint.

“I want one for mine too.” You pout.

“Of course! And one for our room.” He looks you up and down. “Last time, right?”

“I promised only three, didn’t I?” You put your hands on your hips.

“Just making sure.” He replaces your hands with his own. “You look so fucking good, have I told you that enough?”

“Harry.” You chuckle and swat at his chest.

“They’re napping, maybe we should go have a little nap of our own.”

“Hmm…would you go down on me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just something I’d like right now.”

He grins and yanks you towards the stairs to go up to your room. He yanks your shorts and underwear down your legs before sitting you on the bed. He kisses your lips for a bit, and then gets his head right between your legs. You both knew you needed to be quick, but that was no problem. Harry only needed a couple of minutes down there to get you moaning.

His warm tongue works wonders on your clit, and listening to him moan about how good you tasted was definitely helping you get to where you wanted to be.

“H-Harry.” You groan as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You feel him lap you up before he pops his head up. His lips were glistening.

“Do you think I could fuck you from behind?”

“Sure, I think that could work.”

He waits for you to carefully shift before grabbing your hips, and sliding in. He moans out as he thrusts in and out of you. You hook an arm around his head, and he wraps an arm around you to keep you flush with his chest. His other hand rubs your clit and your head rolls back. He licks into your mouth as you moan, and your tongue meets his.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this, Y/N, fuck.” Harry sponges kisses along your neck as you start panting.

“M’gonna come again.” You whine.

“Yeah? Thanks to who?” He says into your ear.

“You, Harry.” You look up at him and smirk. His eyes widen he starts to shake his head. “You, Daddy.”

“Christ!” He cries out as he comes inside you, you come to your release as well, but you can’t help but giggle. “That’s too powerful.”

“It’s why I only use it for special occasions.” You look back at him and he gives you bum a harsh smack. “Hey!”

“You wanted Daddy, right?” He smirks and gets off the bed to get a rag for you.

“Not that kind.” You rub the sore spot before laying on your back.

“I’ll try to remember that.” He says as he cleans you up, and kisses your forehead. “Sweet girl.” He coos.

It was late August, you were thirty-three, and ready to get his baby out of you. Everything made you uncomfortable, even putting clothes on. You mostly just wore an oversized tee shirt around the house. You were thankful to have the fall semester off for maternity. You couldn’t imagine teaching right now.

Harry had been working from home as much as he could. He still needed to go to the studio to take pictures, but he could edit from home. Jack hadn’t quite started preschool yet, so the kids were home with you for another couple of weeks.

As much as you liked the daycare at work, you were thankful you found a preschool that also had a daycare right next door so Jack and Jessica could still be dropped off to the same place. Harry made sure to ask you a minimal amount of questions every day, full well knowing anything could set you off in some capacity.

You were up walking around, pacing in the kitchen, trying to do anything you could to kick start things. Harry was in the living room with Jack and Jessica. It was too hot to be outside, even with the pool.

“Oh, fuck, Harry!” You call for him and he shoots over to you.

“What, what happened?!”

“My, my water just broke.” You point to the puddle on the floor. “I was just walking around and I felt this sharp pain and it fell out!”

“Okay, oh my god, okay, uh, the bags are in the car already, so we just need to get to the hospital, yeah?”

“Yeah! Oh my god!”

“Oh my god!”

“We’re having another baby!”

He kisses you and then goes to round up the kids before helping you into the car. You breathe as much as you can, hoping Joshua wasn’t going to just slide right out of you. Harry signs you in once you’re at the hospital, and you get wheeled into a room. Your mother shows up to take Jack and Jessica.

“Thank you so much.” You tell her.

“Of course, baby.” She strokes your cheek.

“Be good for Mimi.” Harry tells them. “You’ll have a new baby brother next time we see you.”

Jack beams at you and Harry, and gives you hugs before going off with your mother. Buster was off with Niall and Sarah. Everyone was being taken care of.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks as he gives your hand a squeeze.

“Relieved.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want this one outta me, now.”

“Soon, baby.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

Joshua came much fast than Jessica did, thank god, and you were able to safely push him out instead of having to go under the knife. Harry sobbed, and so did you, with joy once you were able to hold little Joshua skin to skin.

“He’s so precious.” You whisper as Harry sits next to you with him. “We really are good at making cute babies, huh?”

“Mhm.” Harry says. “Three of a kind.”

Your mom comes in with Jack and Jessica, who were very excited, well, Jack was because he knew was going on.

“Come on in.” You say. “I missed you both. Come meet Joshua.”

Your mom sets them both on the bed so they can say hello. Harry reminds them to be gentle with the baby, well, more so to Jack as Jessica snuggled right up to you.

“Let me take a picture.” You mom says.

After a few photos, and a few snuggles with your mom and Joshua, she leaves you all be. As you look around the room at your now four favorite people, you couldn’t feel more blessed.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I love you so much, thank you.”

“I love you too.” He pecks your lips. “Thank you.”

A few years later…

Jessica was just finishing up her last soccer tryout and technically her first practice. She was one of two freshmen to make the varsity team, and she was sort of nervous the older girls wouldn’t like her. She sees Jack’s car, previously her father’s, pulls up to the field to pick her up. He gets out and pops the trunk for her gym bag, and leans against the car.

“Holy shit…why is Jack fucking Styles here?” Andrea, a senior on the soccer team, says to a couple of the other senior girls.

“Um…he’s my older brother…did the last name not give it away before?” Jessica jokes.

“Guess I didn’t put two and two together…is he going to pick you up every day?”

“If he wants to keep driving my dad’s old car then yeah.” She shrugs and grabs her things. “See you all later.” Jessica waves goodbye and walks quickly over to Jack who helps her put her things into the trunk. “Thanks.”

“How was it? Which team did you make it on?” He asks as they both get into the car.

“Varsity…” She mumbles.

“Are you kidding?! That’s amazing, Jess!” He nudges her shoulder. “Guess soccer camp really did help.”

“And, you know, years of being drilled by Uncle Niall and Uncle Louis.” She chuckles.

“I’m really glad they gave up on me so they could focus on you.”

“You’re a good soccer player, Jack, you just don’t like it.”

“True.”

“Did you finally find out what production the school’s doing?”

“Yeah, and I need a permission slip signed by Mum and Dad…I hate not being eighteen. Your practices will most likely finish before my rehearsals so you can either wait at the field or come to the auditorium.”

“Sounds good. Something tells me the girls will want me to wait at the field for you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the second Andrea McPhee saw you her jaw dropped to the ground. She’s probably still trying to reattach it.”

“Andrea, huh?” He mulls it over. “She is pretty cute, but I’m not really looking to start something up before I go to college.”

“I bet I’ll be first one the list for the past fest since they know we’re related. I’ll miss you when you go, but I can’t wait not to be known as Jack Styles’ little sister.” She rolls her eyes.

“What can I say? You got an absolute fucking stud for a brother, can only blame God and biology for that.”

“You’re annoying.” She nudges him.

He pulls the car into the driveway and they both head into the house. You were just getting dinner into the over. Joshua was playing around with his guitar up in his room.

“Hi, kids.” You smile at them. “Jessica, please make sure you throw all those sweaty clothes in the wash.”

“I will! Can you give me two seconds?”

“Oi, you just got home, chill out.” Harry says as he comes inside. He was just cleaning out the pool, which was Jack’s job. “By the way, no pool for three this weekend.”

“What?!” They both say.

“Jack didn’t clean out the filter, and I can’t have that.” He goes over to the sink to wash his hands. “So, Mum and I will be enjoying it, but you three won’t.”

“If it’s Jack’s job, then why are Josh and I being punished?”

“Wait, I’m being punished?” Josh comes down the stairs.

“Because you two should be learning how to do it too.”

“Harry…” You say and shake your head. “Why didn’t you clean out the filter like your father asked?” You ask Jack.

“I forgot…”

“Oh, well, how about I forget to give you the keys to the car this week?” Harry says, crossing his arms.

“Dad.” Jack sighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be better about it…”

“We’re gonna be closing it soon anyways.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

“Okay, changing the subject, did you find out what team you made?” You say to her.

“Yeah, I made varsity.”

“Varsity!” You squeal and go around the island to hug her, giving her a big squeeze. “That’s my girl!”

“Congratulations, honey, that’s amazing!” Harry says.

“Thanks.” She blushes. Jessica was very shy, other than when she was playing soccer.

“Jack, what did they say about the show you’re doing?” Harry asks, biting into an apple.

“Um…we’re doing Chicago, so I need you both to sign this.” He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket. “My director thinks I’d make a good Billy Flynn, so I’d really like to do it.”

“Oh! That’ll be fun. I’m okay with it.” You grab a pen and look at Harry.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’ll be a high school version anyways.” You both sign it and hand the paper back to him.

“Thanks, I’ll need to practice my tap in the basement a bit, but none of the other boys ever took tap, so I think I’m still ahead of the game.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with my band practice.” Josh pipes up.

“It won’t.” Jack rolls his eyes. “Dad, are we still shooting that family’s thing this weekend?”

“A family reunion is not a thing…and yes, we are.”

“Cool, my lens just came in the mail and I’m dying to use it.”

“It did?! Let’s go look at it.”

They both go up to Jack’s room and you smile while Jessica and Josh sit down at the island.

“I’m really very proud of you, honey. Wait until we tell Uncle Niall.”

“Thanks, I’m really excited. There’s one other freshman, so I won’t be totally alone. The rest of the team are seniors and a few juniors. Everyone else is on the J.V. team.” She looks at Josh. “These girls are already swooning over Jack.”

“You’re kidding…” He says to her.

“Nope, and I was a little offended. This one girl was like, iS ThAT jAcK stYLes, and I was like…yeah that’s my brother.”

“Did they not realize you have the same last name? It’s not exactly common.”

“Maybe one too many concussions.”

They both giggle together. You were trying not to listen in too much as you were cleaning up the counter. It was no secret that Jack was popular at school. He was talented and handsome, not to mention he just had a swagger about him. There were people who thought it was girly for him to do theater, of course, but he just didn’t care, which made other people like him more. He had such a chill attitude, and he wasn’t full of himself, even if joked about it. Essentially, he was Harry’s clone. It worried you at times, though, because he often got asked to parties and hang outs. He didn’t date much, not that he filled you and Harry in on all that. You knew who his best friends were, and that was all the information you were privy to. He was close enough with Jessica, but she and Joshua were the really close ones. Guess that happens when you’re a year apart in age. It wasn’t always this way, but as they grew up a little, they got closer. Jack and Josh had their bonding moments too. They liked playing video games together, but with an almost five year age difference, Jack really didn’t have much in common with a kid going into eighth grade. You knew when they got older they’d have much more in common.

“I can’t believe the first day of school is just in a few days. You must be happy not taking the bus this year.” You say to Jessica.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you and Dad gave Jack the car. I’m gonna look so cool driving into the senior lot.”

“That’s if I don’t make you tuck and roll first.” Jack says, coming around to give her a half-Nelson.

“Let her go.” Harry says. “You’ll let us know when the open house is and all that?”

They both look at each other and grimace.

“What?”

“Can’t Mum just come to that?” Jessica asks.

“I like to meet your teachers too.”

“Yeah, and they love to meet you.” Jack smirks. “It’s embarrassing.”

Harry had grown into quite the distinguished man. He had the perfect amount of grey in his hair, he had managed to stay pretty fit, that was mostly for you. Not that you really cared how he looked because you loved him, but he liked staying in shape to keep his stamina up. You had stayed in pretty good shape yourself, not to toot your own horn, but no matter what people flirted with Harry. It was the Brit in him.

“Dad and I will go together, then the teachers will know he’s very much not single.” You hook your arm around Harry’s waist and he kiss your cheek, getting a collective groan from your three kids. “You know, you three should be grateful you’re growing up in a happy, loving home.”

“Yeah, how many of your friends actually have parents that are still together?” Harry asks.

“I mean…it’s great, but…keep it to yourself.” Jessica says, sticking her tongue to pretend to gag. “I’m gonna go throw my laundry in.”

“Could wash my bandanas?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, go get them.” She shrugs.

“Wait I have some stuff too-“

“I’m not the laundry bitch, Jesus.”

“Jessica.” You sigh. “Help your brothers.”

“Just because I’m the girl doesn’t mean I have to do their laundry.”

“They’re just asking you to throw some things in with yours, can you just do it please? Or I could do all the laundry, would you three like that? For me to see all of your clothes?”

“No!” The three of them say and race upstairs.

“You’ve really learned how to clear the room, excellent.” Harry says, putting his hands on your hips and leaning in to kiss you.

“What can I say? I have a gift.” You giggle into the kiss.

The school year was going well. Jessica was a starting center-forward on the soccer team, and she played her heart out. Jack and his friends would often go to her games when they could, and the older girls on the team noticed. Jessica’s turn for a pasta fest was coming up soon, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but it was happening nonetheless.

You and Harry worked to get all of the pasta and meatballs made. Seth had given you his recipe long ago, he knew how to make a really fucking good meatball. Jessica and Jack get home, and Jessica rushes around to get things tidy before all the girls come over.

“Please, I’m begging you all, don’t embarrass me in front of these girls.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to mention the time you shit your pants in the pool when you were five?” Jack smirks.

“Jack, you’ve shit in that pool more times than anyone in this house, so unless you’d like me to bring that up, I suggest you play nice with your sister.” You grin at him.

“I was just teasing! Be cool, Mum.”

All of the girls come over, and luckily it was still nice out, so they’re all able to go outside. A few of them kick a soccer ball around. Jack and Josh were up in their rooms.

“This is such a nice house, Mrs. Styles.” Andrea says to you when she comes inside for more soda.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smile. Your last name still legally wasn’t Styles, but you got over correcting people a long time ago.

“Okay, garlic bread is officially done. We can feed ‘em now.” Harry says and Andrea’s eyes widen. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She squeaks and goes back outside. “Christ, Jess, your dad is a fucking DILF.” She laughs.

“Gee, thanks.”

You and Harry bring all of the food for the girls outside, and Jack and Josh come down to take some too. Things get quiet when Jack approaches.

“Hey, Jack.” Andrea says.

“Hey.” He smiles at her.

“I heard you got, like, the lead guy in the school play, congrats.”

“Thanks, I’m pretty excited.” He makes himself a heaping plate, and then goes inside to eat, as does Josh.

“You know…” You say to Jack as you and Harry sit with them inside. “I think that girl has a crush on you.”

“A lot of girls do.” Jack says nonchalantly, and Harry smacks his harm. “What?”

“You could be nicer about it.” Harry says.

“I was! I smiled at her, even had a little conversation. I was very polite. They all giggle every time I pick Jess up, it’s annoying.”

“They just think you’re cute, honey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You say. “How are things with the girls in the show?”

“Oh, it’s good. Kat got Roxie, and Gina got Velma. We started blocking the court room scene where I get to use Kat as a puppet, it’s a lot of fun.”

“And she’s comfortable with sitting on you?” You ask, recalling how the stage production goes.

“Uh, yeah, she’s very comfortable.” Jack smirks. “Ben got Amos, and I’ve been helping him get off book. Like, all my friends got the best parts, which is great. We’re all gonna hang out Friday after school if that’s alright.”

“Does Jess need a ride home?” Harry asks.

“Nah, she has an away game. It’s home tomorrow, then she has practice, then away Friday. I’ve got the whole schedule memorized.”

“We’ll all be able to go to her game tomorrow, I’m excited.” Josh says.

“It’ll be a lot of fun, I think Niall and Sarah are gonna come too.” You say.

“Oh good, I’ll pack a cooler.” Harry winks at you and you shake your head.

“Jack, when’s Homecoming?” You ask. “I’d like to take you two shopping ahead of time.”

“Uhh, it’s in, like, three weeks I think? I should probably know since I’m nominated for Homecoming King.” He mutters.

“You are?!” You squeal.

“Mum, please, settle down. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Sure it is, do you know how thrilled I would have been to even be on Homecoming court when I was in high school? How did I raise the popular kid?” You look at Harry.

“Suppose I’ll have to take credit for that.” Harry says and you roll your eyes at him.

“Ha! That’s a quarter, Mum.” Josh says.

“You know, this was a stupid thing we started.” You huff and get up to put a quarter in the ‘eye-roll’ jar.

“You just say that because you’re the one that fills it the most.” Harry laughs.

“Maybe if you didn’t give me a reason to roll my eyes we wouldn’t need the jar. Ever think of that?”

Jessica’s game was very exciting. You set up chairs with Harry, Niall, and Sarah. Josh met up with his friends, and so did Jack, god forbid they sit with you. Sometimes you couldn’t believe how fast Jessica could run, she was like a bullet.

“She looks so cute in her uniform.” Sarah says to you.

“Doesn’t she?!” You giggle. “Cutest one out there if you ask me.”

“Let’s go, Jess!” Niall shouts. “She’s quite talented, my best work yet. I miss being her coach.”

“Cut the cord, mate.” Harry chuckles.

Jessica had some very fancy footwork, and she scored two goals that night. The team won, and it was very exciting. A ton of people ran onto the field, including Jack who scooped her, and got her on top of his shoulders so they could cheer. Harry was able to sneak a couple of pictures of the whole thing. It was really sweet to see.

“Okay! Put me down!” She laughs as Jack squats to get her down.

“That was a great game.” He says brightly. “I thought Uncle Niall was gonna pop a blood-vessel when I looked over at them.”

“Well, at least since we won he’ll be in a good mood, and that means we’re totally going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” They start walking off the field to find everyone.

“Jack?!” He turns around to see Andrea.

“Go find them, I’ll be there in a minute.” He says to Jessica and she nods. “Yeah?”

“Hi.” She tucks some hair behind her hair.

“Hi.” He smiles. “Great game, you’re an incredible goalie.”

“Oh, thanks.” She blushes. “Um, so…we both made it onto Homecoming court…”

“Yeah, we did.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you going to the dance?”

“Mhm, I’m going with my friends…not really doing the date thing.”

“Oh.” She blushes harder. “Um, well…”

“But, I could sit with you at the Football game if you want since we all sort of need to sit near the field.”

“Um, yeah that would be great.” She smiles.

“Want me to just pick you up for it?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.” He smiles. “I gotta going, but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “Bye.”

Yes, you were the obnoxious parents that went to the homecoming football game, but you had an excuse this year. Jack was on homecoming court, and tonight they were announcing who the king and queen would be. His competition were a few jocks and one other preppy kid. Josh chose to sit with you, Sarah, and Niall, while Jessica was off with her friends in the stands. They were all wearing their soccer jerseys in support of the football team.

Jack was sitting with Andrea, like he said he would. He even went to concessions and got them both a hot a chocolate. She was a lot cooler than he was expecting. They had started texting here and there, and he found out that Andrea actually really liked musicals, and was still playing soccer so she could hopefully get a scholarship from a good school.

You got especially excited once it was halftime. The dance team went out and did their thing, they were pretty good.

“You’re a better dancer.” Harry whispers in your ear.

“Shh.” You giggle as he kisses your cheek.

“Please, I’ll go sit somewhere else.” Josh groans.

“Sorry, we’ll behave.” Harry says to him with a smirk.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The announcer starts. “It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for, please welcome your homecoming court!”

Everyone cheers as all the kids on the court step onto the field. Jack looked cute as ever in his beanie that had just enough of his curls peeking out. The announcer says who the third runner ups are, the second runner ups, and then it comes down to two more pairs. When he says who the first runner ups are, you squeal because that left Jack and Andrea together.

“…which means, Andre Nelson and Jack Styles are this years homecoming queen and king!”

The crowd goes nuts as the crowns come out, and Harry was already videoing the whole thing before you had a chance to tell him to.

“He won! Oh my god!” You squeal again.

Some pictures are taken down on the field before they’re all told they can go sit back down. The dance team comes back out to do another dance before the second half starts back up.

“So, uh…congratulations.” Andrea says to Jack.

“You too. Listen, I was gonna go stag to the dance, but…I mean, if you don’t already have a date, would you wanna go together?”

“Really?” She smiles.

“Sure, can’t have my queen walking in unescorted.” He smirks.

“Jack, I’d love to go with you.”

“Cool.” He throws his arm around her shoulders as they sit there.

“Mum, please!” Jessica whines. “My date is gonna be here any second.” You were just finishing make her hair look wavy.

“And I’m sure he’ll love the way you look.”

“No, I’m worried about Dad grilling him.”

“Your father will not-“ You hear the door ring.

“Mum!”

“Okay, okay, you’re all set.”

Jessica sprints down the stairs, but cools it when she sees it’s just Andrea.

“Hey, Jess.” She smiles.

“Hey! You look so pretty.”

“Thanks, so do you.”

“Very pretty.” Harry say to Jessica.

“Dad.” She says with red cheeks.

“Right, well, I think Jack’s upstairs, getting that hair under control is a two man job, so I think Josh is helping him.” Harry says to Andrea and she nods. “I’ll go get the camera.”

The doorbell rings again, and you go to answer it.

“Hi, you must be Eric.” You smile.

“Yeah, hi, Mrs. Styles.”

“Come on in.”

Eric was a sophomore who Jessica had gotten to know during one of her study periods. He was extremely polite, and he had started coming to her soccer games.

“Okay, let’s see, I-“ Harry fiddles with his camera and then looks up at Eric. “Hello.”

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” Eric shakes Harry’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you. My daughter needs to be home by eleven.”

“Dad…Jack’s driving us.”

“Great, then make sure he brings you back by eleven.”

Josh comes down the stairs to join in on the fun, and Jack makes his way down too.

“Hey.” He grins at Andrea. “You look great.”

“So do you.” She blushes.

Harry takes a ton of pictures, making sure to get plenty of family shots with your three kids. You tear up a bit as you watch the four of them leave, and Josh goes back upstairs.

“What is it?” Harry asks as he flips through this photos.

“Nothing.”

He sets the camera down and comes over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You wrap yours around his neck.

“Our…first date was around this time of year.”

“That it was. Been together a while now, huh?”

“Mhm, and sometimes when I see what we have…well, I still can’t believe it was all thanks to Niall.” You burst out laughing.

“Oi, I would like to remind you that I’m the one who pressed him for the date with you after he showed me your picture.”

“Okay, you can take some of the credit.”

“M’just grateful you agreed to the date in the first place.”

“I’m grateful you were patient enough to stick around.” You peck his lips and smile. “Was taking it slow all that time ago as worth it for you as it was for me?”

“More worth it than you’ll ever know, my love.” He squishes his nose to yours. “My everything.”

#harry styles #my everything #take it slow #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #dad!Harry #photographer!Harry

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ejzah · 4 years ago

Text

Suggested by @wanna-be-bold. (Because I'm a sucker for it) Kensi finding out she's pregnant by someone else pointing it out

A/N: I hope this is a little bit like what you were thinking.

***

All The Signs Are There

“Hey, have you seen Kensi anywhere?” Deeks asked as he came in, hand tucked behind his back.

“She’s in the gym,” Callen answered, sharing a smirk with Sam. “Why, you two fighting again.”

“No, we are not fighting. Kensi’s just had a rough couple days so I figured I’d get her a little surprise.”

Deeks held up a which bore the name, Andria’s Bakery.

“Isn’t that place about an hours drive from here?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it if it cheers Kensi up.”

“She has been a little moody the last couple days.” Sam scoffed at Callen’s assessment.

“Man, how many times do I have to tell you that you never call a woman moody?”

“Yesterday she got mad at me for breathing too loudly,” Callen shared, looking unimpressed with Sam’s advice. “What do you call that? And for the record, I am a very quiet breather.”

Before Sam could get into his partner’s breathing habits, Kensi walked in, looking refreshed and in good spirits. She stopped to give Deeks a kiss on her way to her desk.

“Hi baby, did you have a good time surfing?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was good. And I picked up donuts on the way.” Deeks gave the bag a little jiggle, wafting the scent of fried pastry and chocolate her way.

“Ooh, is that a Boston Cream?” Grinning at the excitement in her voice, Deeks handed her the bag and added,

“And an apple fritter.”

“Best hubby ever,” Kensi sang, reaching into the bag with a delighted expression as she pulled out the apple fritter.

“You know how much sugar and fat is in just one of those?” Sam asked, looking vaguely amused as eagerly Kensi bit into the donut.

“You’re just jealous that your partner didn’t bring you anything for breakfast.” She took another bite and almost immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Kens?” Deeks asked, automatically moving towards. She shook her head, waving him off.

“Sorry, I just-” she cut off suddenly, swallowed harshly and hastily shoved the half-eaten pastry into his hand, practically running from the room. “Excuse me.”

He a glance at Callen and Sam, who looked equally concerned as he felt, then headed after Kensi, dropping the fritter on his desk as he passed.

Kensi was bent over a sink, dabbing a damp paper towel over her face by the time he made it to the women’s bathroom.

“Baby, are you ok?” he murmured, coming up behind her and resting his hand on her back. Turning off the water, Kensi nodded as she looked up.

Her face seemed a little washed out, but when he brushed his fingers over her temple, her skin felt cool.

“Yeah, I just felt really nauseous all of the sudden,” she replied. “Maybe the leftover lasagna last night was a little older than I realized.”

“Well, I feel fine. Maybe you should go home, just in case.” As expected, Kensi waved off his suggestion and shook her head again. She squared her shoulders, drawing in a deep breath.

“Thank you for caring about me, Deeks, but I’m completely fine.”

Deeks didn’t like it, but followed her back out of the bathroom without any more protests. She seemed fine now and based on past experience, he knew that a slight case of food poisoning couldn’t take down Special Agent Kensi Blye.

Back in the bullpen, Sam and Callen seemed to be deep in discussion. Deeks saw Sam give Callen a pointed look as Kensi sat down at her desk, smiling like everything was perfectly normal.

“Food poisoning,” she explained succinctly.

“Interesting,” Sam commented, glancing at Callen again, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Deeks asked suspiciously.

“Sam is under the impression that Kensi is pregnant,” Callen explained bluntly. Kensi snorted, surprising Deeks. She was usually more touchy about the subject these days.

“Um, nice detective work, but I think I would realize if I was pregnant.”

“Really? Then how do you explain your recent behavior. You’ve been unusually irritable, I caught you two making out in the burn room twice in the last week, and you just got sick off a donut.” He ticked off each point on his finger, ending on the last with a triumphant expression.

“That’s ridiculous,” Kensi scoffed, turning to Deeks, clearly expecting him to be equally derisive of the idea. He tilted his head, running a few dates in his head and asked Kensi in an undertone,

“Did you take a pregnancy test this month?”

“No, but...I would know, right? There’s no way I can be pregnant,” she said, looking like she was trying to convince herself. Maybe trying to stop herself from getting too excited.

“Here, have a bite of this,” Callen suggested, tossing the uneaten donut in front of Kensi. She took one look at it and practically gagged, covering her mouth and nose again as she pushed it away.

“Oh my god, please get rid of that!” Deeks quickly reached over and shoved it into the garbage, glaring at Callen who looked extremely pleased with himself.

“I’m not a pregnancy test, but I’d say you’re probably pregnant.”

“This is incredible,” Deeks murmured, kneeling in front Kensi and grasping her hands between his. Resting her forehead against his, Kensi let out a shaky breath.

“We did it,” she whispered back, finally giving in to a giant smile. She let out a joyful laugh and grasped head between her palms, pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

“Man, you guys are going to be even worse than usual,” Sam groaned from beside them. Honestly, Deeks had all but forgotten they weren’t the only two in the room.

“Just wait til the pregnancy hormones really kick in,” Callen said. “We’ll have to use a cattle prod to keep them apart.”

“I can’t wait,” Kensi said happily, tugging Deeks down for another kiss. In the background, Sam groaned again.

***

A/N: I have no idea if there’s a place called Andria’s Bakery.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #densi baby #plus Callen and Sam #fluff #ejzah fanfiction

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willadisastercry · 4 years ago

Text

Appendicitis in space...

tw: emetophobia, appendicitis symptoms described, surgery, anesthesia, anxiety.

Coran is secretly shitting himself when the scanner lets him know that this particular human condition requires actual surgery. Most serious injuries they sustained did, but most also could be mended in a pod. This one was an exception, though. Because nothing needed to be fixed, something needed to be removed.

Lance tumbled forward awkwardly as the simulator sputtered and powered down.

“What gives, Shiro? I had that round!”

“Oh yeah? Then that wasn’t me just watching you getting your ass handed to you? Right,” Shiro laughed and he began packing up the equipment that had been pulled out.

“That’s enough for today anyway. Good work, everyone.”

Lance couldn’t even find it in him to continue his protests as he leaned over on his knees to catch his breath while he waited for the cramping in his side to dissolve.

Training that morning had been rough for everyone. Shiro wanted to ensure that the lull in active missions did not leave his team thinking they could kick back. So they worked on hand to hand combat and trained on as hard of a level they could tolerate until they became proficient in whichever skill they were focusing on.

Everyone did pretty well. They all made varying degrees of progress, but progress nonetheless.

Well, everyone except for Lance.

And he was pissed.

So he determined not to quit until he improved from his navice standing with a short sword, running the simulation countless times but barely making a dent.

He fought sloppily, all desperation and no strategy. Actually he did have sort of a strategy if you counted fighting simply to survive and that was not how you were supposed to train, but Shiro gave up on driving that point home early on.

Because Lance was visibly off.

Shiro had chided him earlier for picking at his breakfast, that he would regret it once they began training, but he just shrugged.

Lance barely spoke the entire morning of which Shiro was very wary of given that he was usually the most energetic of the bunch in the mornings.

But he assured the older boy he was fine.

Shiro knew that he had been feeling crappy the last few days so at first he attributed the weird behavior to him probably still feeling gross.

So when he fought sloppily he knew it was because he was fatiguing much quicker than his teammates. That when he got hit by an obvious blow it was because his brain quite literally couldn’t keep up with the battle.

He’d start off okay only to spend the rest of the simulation narrowly feigning off every strike after the first few parries and getting properly clobbered by way too many.

Shiro was glad he was able to recognize his shoddy performance for what it was before he exacerbated the issue, making a mental note to check in on him later that day as he finished cleaning up.

The paladins stalked off to the showers, Hunk and Pidge engaging in a riveting conversation explaining to Keith how the castle’s ‘waste’ was plumbed and disposed of.

He was horrified to say the least.

Lance lagged behind, the exhaustion from the session making his limbs feel so very heavy. Not to mention the knot in his side had never gone away and the trek was only increasing his discomfort as the adrenaline high wore off.

But he resigned that he was just overly tired and that a hot shower would likely help.

And it did, for his aching muscles. But his abdomen was still taut, the steady pulse of discomfort making him a little queasy.

He detached the removeable shower head and held it on his side for a moment. The water was boiling and so the heat seemed to numb the spot, but the pain was still there.

He gingerly began probing the area as he tried to work out what exactly was hurting, thinking maybe he’d pulled a muscle.

His stomach had been feeling weird for the last couple of days, but it had never been a concentrated pain like this.

And as he pressed around he was able to pinpoint the exact spot that was smarting the most so he could rub out whatever the issue was.

But as soon as he put pressure on it he knew he’d messed up.

It wasn’t even the pressure so much as the lack of it because when he removed his fingers to work out the soreness he grunted loudly as pain erupted at the site.

He was so caught off guard by the sudden sharpness that took over the dull ache that he dropped the shower head and it clanged on the tile, just narrowly missing his foot when he hadn’t even made an effort to avoid it.

His vision went white for a second and he stumbled into the wall, mostly due to the intense fear that was now upon him, and it took a second for the blood rush to settle before he could hear his friends knocking on the door of the shower stall.

“—ance? Lance!”

“The fuck is going on in there...”

He took a shuddering breath and called out that he was fine, he was just tired.

“Are you like weak in the knees tired or what? Because if you pass out in there and we have to help you while you’re butt ass naked, I swear—“

“I’m not going to pass out,” he groaned as he leaned his head back against the wall with a hand hovering carefully on his side.

“Okay, you’ve just been in there forever.”

“And Shiro said to keep an eye on you for suspicious behavior.”

“He’s not a suspect, Pidge, he’s just stubborn.”

“Well I am very much okay, so you can tell Shiro that and leave me alone.”

“Jeez—“

“Damn, well if you take a header you’ve gotten your wish, you’re on your own.”

Hunk and Pidge started off and Lance sighed, about to apologize when his side twinged, stealing a more pained sound from his throat.

He leaned his head back and tried to breathe through it, the worst muscle cramp of his life, once again not really being able to pay attention to what else was happening.

The pain wasn’t spreading, it was intensifying. Twisting and burning under each harsh pant, like someone was holding a fire poker to him and moving it around.

It was making his head swim and his stomach churn. He had been nauseous all morning and hadn’t eaten, so he was very confused as to how he could possibly need to throw up now, but there was no questioning it when he almost choked on the saliva rushing to fill his mouth.

He didn’t know when he’d grabbed the towel thrown over the door and tied it around his waist or when he’d made a break for the toilets across the room, he just knew he was moving and that he wouldn’t make it there.

And then he was hunching over one of the many sinks heaving, his side in a fiery protest with each contraction in his stomach.

The blood rush was back in his ears, so he didn’t know that Keith was talking to him or that he was even there until he was hitting his back when he couldn’t breathe in between gags and almost choked on his own sick. The shock of the hit allowed his stomach to break its cycle of relentless clenching.

He spit up the last of the bile that made its way up his throat and ducked his head further between his shoulders as he leaned on the sink while he caught his breath.

His lungs ached and he was dizzy. Everything seemed to hurt from that, all temporarily dulling the bite of the worsening throb in his side.

“Ok, what the fuck was that?” he could hear Keith asking after a minute.

He started to speak, to give an explanation, but he didn’t even know what to say, he wasn’t sure what was wrong. But when he went to talk his side pulsed rather aggressively and he was instantly gagging again.

Not much came up this time though as his stomach had already divulged itself of all its contents.

After he calmed back down, he looked up at himself through the mirror.

He was really pale except for a splash of red across his cheeks, his muscles tight and straining as he suffered through his discomfort and the pain, skin glistening in a mix of sweat and water.

And then he found Keith’s pointed gaze in it.

“Should I get Coran? You look like shit.”

“Ah—uhyh huh...” he struggled to formulate his words through his ragged breaths but got there eventually.

“Ye-yeah, please...”

“Okay, you good here or do you need to sit?”

“I-I’m gonna put... something on,” he stated before pushing himself up from the sink uneasily. Once he was up straight he wobbled a little and Keith grabbed his arm, but he shook him off saying he just needed a second and waited for the swirling black dotting his vision to disappear before heading for his pile of clothes on the bench.

Keith stayed next to him the entire way, making sure he got there without splitting his head open, more worried now then he was when Lance was choking on his own puke.

But he hid it well for the most part, except when he was actually being really nice. That was his tell.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t try and get to the toilet if you need to yak again, wouldn’t want anything to happen to that amazing brain of yours—“

“Hey...”

“Kidding, i’ll be really quick though. And seriously just stay there.”

“Yup, not going anywhere...” he assured, returning his hand to hover over the fire that felt like it was burning a hole in his side, the other waving Keith off.

Lance pulled his hoodie from the pile first. His skin was covered in goose bumps from how cold he was and he didn’t have the energy to put his entire post workout sweat suit on so it would have to do for now.

He shrugged it on carefully, it took a while because lifting his right arm up aggravated his side, but once it was on he felt better. He was still really cold and his hair was still wet so that wasn’t helping.

Pants next. Well underwear first. He found his boxer briefs in the pile and got to his feet wearily. He was still really dizzy and so he decided to proceed with caution and moved over to lean against the wall for this.

He took a deep breath and leaned over to put his feet through. It hurt. The orientation made his head pound dangerously and he straightened up only to feel a twinge from his side.

Fuck, he remembered thinking as he leaned heavily on the wall. But he very much needed to have underwear on when Coran came back, so he tried again.

This time he just dropped his arms down in front of him, keeping his torso straight as he raised one leg at a time through each leg hole.

Success. He breathed a sigh of relief and released his towel then started for the sweat shorts but his body did not like that.

He was none too kindly reminded of how lightheaded and dizzy he still was in that moment and he staggered forward, his foot catching a wet spot on the floor and the momentum of the error took him to the ground hard.

He landed very much on his ass but the fall jolted through his side like he’d gotten shot. If he thought it was on fire before, he was very wrong. This heat was excruciating and nauseating and blinding and gosh it was hard to breathe.

He hadn’t known when he’d laid down but he was suddenly very aware he was writhing on his side, feet kicking and searching for purchase on the tile as he arched through the pain piercing his abdomen.

And then there was a shadow over him. It sounded like robots were talking over him, their cold hands gripping his shoulders and face and turning him to lie on his back.

He had just been so cold but their hands felt so much colder because he was not aware he had started sweating. That wasn’t the only thing coming back to him, so was the nausea rippling through his stomach just as intensely as the fire raged.

He tried to focus his eyes, tried to see the faces over him. It was hard with how everything seemed to be spinning but eventually he could make them out.

“C-Coran, please... p-please”

“I will my boy, but you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. What’s hurting?”

His hand moved from scratching at the tile to tug on his sweatshirt pocket.

“Where on your stomach? Show me,” Coran ordered as he lifted Lance’s sweatshirt up to his chest.

From the outside everything looked perfectly fine, aside from his abnormal parlor.

So Coran was dubious when he watched the sick boy move his hand cautiously over his side right beside and a little lower down than his belly button, his fingertips barely brushing the warm skin but producing a stiff breath anyway.

“Hm,” Coran mused, muttering a quick ‘forgive me boy’ before he pressed down on and around the spot.

Lance’s scream was drowned by his gag and then Keith was beside Coran, his hands tilting Lance’s face to the side and then pulling his torso that way as well. He thrashed and tried to wriggle out of their grips as he struggled, the pressure of being on the side that was on fire too much as his gut wrenched up nothing but yellow.

“Calm down Lance, you’re okay!”

“Breathe boy, you’re working yourself up and it’ll only make it worse. I think your appendix has ruptured, we’ll need to get you to the infirmary immediately...”

He wasn’t sure what was said after he that, his memory of getting to the infirmary was hazy because of how much it fucking hurt.

He was vaguely aware of curling up in a wheelchair, one hand clutching his stomach and another barely holding open a vomit bag up to his mouth. Nothing was coming up then except for saliva.

He didn’t even remember being lifted into a bed in the infirmary because the movement had unsettled his stomach once more, stealing his breath while he struggled against the vice wrapping around his empty stomach.

They had to put a cannula around his nose to get him extra air while he dry heaved, but he only calmed down after he quite literally almost stopped breathing and Keith ignored Coran’s protest to hit him on the back like before.

He was also sort of aware he had started crying at some point and was reminded of that when Coran was pressing onto his side once more.

At this point he didn’t even have the energy to struggle, he just continued to tremble violently under the touch as fresh tears spilled down his face.

“Hey, shh you’ll feel much better soon,” a new voice assured as they ran their hands through his damp hair. He leaned into the touch and saw that both belonged to Shiro.

“Shit, if I had known you had freaking appendicitis I would never have made you train today,” he laughed sadly.

He shut his eyes closed at that and tried to breathe through the waves of nausea against his pounding headache all topped off by the fire poker in his side.

“Coran what’s the estimated time in the pod for this, you think?” Keith asked as the others were just arriving.

“I’m afraid he cannot go into a pod just yet,” Coran said gravely, not once lifting his face from his tablet.

“Lance!”

“Woah, what the quiznak happened?!”

“He’s so freaking pale, oh my god.”

“It’s his appendix,” Keith offered.

“The scans show that the organ has completely ruptured and is leaking into his abdomen. It is something that can only be remedied with—with surgery.”

“Oh, Coran... is that—something we can even do here?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

The time between when Shiro explained what was going to be happening to Lance and when they were about to put him under went impossibly slow and too fast all at once.

He would gag occasionally but nothing came up with it. They had since attached a bunch of wires all over him and put an IV in his arm that was giving him pain medicine and antibiotics.

It seemed to help a lot with his discomfort and he eased into the bed after they finally kicked in, his body relaxing for the first time in a while.

“I’m n’gonna feel an’thing right?” He asked Coran, his words sloshing together from the mix of utter exhaustion and drugs.

“Of course not my boy, this will take care of that as will the pain medicine,” he assured as he held a weird altean breathing mask in his hands.

“I’m going to put it over your nose and mouth now, just breathe normally and we’ll do a little count down while you fall asleep.”

Coran motioned to place the mask on him, but he turned away from it.

Lance looked around wildly as if he couldn’t see the multiple friendly faces looking at him and the machines recording his heart rate began to pick up, and then was reaching for someone, anyone.

“We’re here! We’re all right here,” Keith said taking up his hand with a wire attached to his finger, Shiro was grabbing the other.

“I-I don-I don’t”

“You’ve got to buddy, you’re really sick,” Shiro soothed as he ran his hands through his hair once more. The touch calmed him only somewhat, his breath hitching once more as he continued to worry.

“I k-know, but I-I’m scared I w-won’t...”

He was crying again.

“Won’t what buddy?” Hunk asked tenderly as his hand fell to Lance’s leg.

“What if I d-don’t wake up,” he managed before his breathing took a turn and Coran rushed to go find a remedy for it, not quite understanding it was mostly him just being anxious.

Pidge was pushing past all the bodies looming over the bed and sufficiently blocking her from being able to help Lance, but once she shoved Shiro forward she was scrambling onto the bed and nuzzling herself against Lance’s good side.

He gasped at her presence but seemed to melt into it soon after he realized what she was doing. She pulled at the hand clutching Shiro’s and placed it on her back so he could feel her calm breaths and ground himself.

“Slow and deep, you’re okay,” she urged and leaned her head against his chest, his sweatshirt was still on but folded up under itself to expose his stomach, a circle had been drawn around the location of his appendix.

He leaned his head against hers and breathed slow shaking breaths.

“Coran it’s alright, he’s calming down on his own,” Keith urged just as Coran turned up with some strange altean herb that was purple and emitting some sort of low cooing sound.

“You’re going to be just fine, Lance. Coran would never let anything bad happen to you.”

“Yeah, and if you feel like taking an extra long snooze we’ll be here to rudely wake you up like we always do,” Pidge added and she could feel Lance relax under her weight.

“I’m s-sorry for being so mean earlier, guys—“

“Shh, no more saying ‘i’m sorry’. Just accept the cuddle and zip it.”

Lance could almost summon a laugh but the pain in his side prevented it.

“Let’s try again with the sleepy time mask, yeah?”

“Yeah...”

He reached for Shiro’s hand again and all of the other hands on him tried to soothe him as best they could as he tensed when the mask descended on his face.

“We’ve gotcha bud.”

“You’ll be just fine Lance.”

“Nothing bad can happen to when you’re being cuddled so viscuously.”

“Okay, let’s start counting back from 10.”

“10, 9—“

“Easy, count slower. You’re alright.”

A second hand was on his head, pushing his hair back and trailing behind his ear. He closed his eyes at the sensation, it was something his mamá would do.

“9... 8... 7...”

“That’s it number three, easy...”

Around 5 he stopped counting. He felt his body becoming heavier and heavier as he breathed through the strange mask, he could feel the gentle but firm touches of his teammates, the only constant as he breathed deeper and deeper, a pleasant haze falling over him.

He could feel the level in Pidge’s breath, and tried to match it, his eyelids feeling so heavy they were hard to keep open.

And then he felt light.

The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut was Allura and Hunk smiling while they said something that was lost on him.

He didn’t care though, he didn’t need to hear it to know what they meant.

He remembered feeling really safe in that moment.

He wasn’t scared anymore.

#vld #whump scenario #lance angst #vld lance #voltron fic #voltron whump #lance mcclain #sick boy #voltron sick fic #voltron fandom #lance whump #lance anxiety #keith helps #concerned keith

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