#i feel nauseous and sick my period just stopped what fucking gives

[cowboykeery]

i feel absolutely VILE

[hazbinwhoree]

Hi! Im new here on your blog so i don't really know if it's okay to request but if not feel free to ignore this, I'm really having bad cramps, they are making me nauseous, giving bad headaches and I'm feeling like I can drop dead at any moment, like it's the same way that someone is punching me on the stomach and dropped me in the streets and a fucking bus hit me and to complete I'm sick, im taking as many pills you can imagine and boiling the water of the Thermal bag , I wanted to see if you can make Lúcifer or Adam taking care of reader who is having the same pain as mine and she puts a really really Thermal Bag on the stomach burning her but she feels way better than the cramps (cof cof, totally not me)

Adam x Reader w/ a Bad Period

When Adam finds you, he thinks you’re dying

You feel like you’re dying

You’re on your period, which is Hell Week every month

The thermal bag you have on your stomach is burning you but you don’t even care

“What the fuck, babe?”

He’s next to you in seconds, hands hovering over your body likes he’s scared to touch you

Eventually he touches the thermal bag and he shrieks, pulling his hand away

“That thing is way too fucking hot, you’re burning yourself!”

Your only response is to whine, “I’m on my period.”

“Ohhh…”

To be honest, Adam is kind of at a loss as to what to do

He’s not familiar with a woman’s monthly at all

He vaguely remembered Lilith and Eve’s, but they weren’t nearly as bad as this

“What do I do?” he blurts out

“You could get me the Advil?”

He’s on it, bringing back a glass of water too

You gratefully down the pills and water

“What else?”

Adam is eager to make this better for you

“Nothing really, you can’t make them go away,” you laugh weakly

This distresses Adam

Joins you on the couch and gives you the best cuddles of your life, after making you stop using the thermal bag until it cooled down

Holds you while you watch your favorite shows and massages your stomach periodically

He just wants to make you feel better

[sims4royalsandimperials]

Pink Flamingo Night Club, Oasis Springs, New Nagara - 10:30am

(CW: Nudity, sexual themes) (MTW: Repeated Sexual Assault/Abuse and abusive language. If you find yourself uncomfortable seeing this, please do not keep reading and message me so I can tell you what happens in this post)

*It’s the end of Branson and Astrid’s shift, but before he takes her home, he wants a private show with her and a couple of his friends*

Branson: ... Look at me while you’re doing your pole routine, Tawny.

*Astrid ignores him and twirls around again*

Branson: Good job. Now take off your top. Astrid: B...but... Branson: Take off your top, Tawny!

Ten Minutes Later

*Astrid is crying in the bathroom while changing*

Astrid: “Take your top off, Tawny... Show me that ass, Tawny.” I fucking hate this. I fucking hate this so much. I miss my dad, I miss my mom. I miss Hubie, Desiree, and Kari. I want to go home. Why do I have to be this asshole’s sex doll? *Astrid is beginning to feel nauseous* Astrid: Oh, no.

*Astrid rushes to the toilet and begins to vomit* Astrid: Oh dear watcher, no. I think I’m... Branson: *knocking on the door* Come on, Tawny. We don’t have all day! Hurry up! *Astrid finishes getting dressed and leaves the bathroom*

Branson: Took your ditzy dumbass long enough. Come on. Let’s go.

The Bumpass Residence - 11:45am

*Branson has Astrid in handcuffs as he’s aggressively r-wording her* Astrid: Branson, please stop. I don’t feel so good. Branson: *grunting* You don’t feel good? You’re gonna feel a looooottttt better in a few minutes. Astrid: No, please... Branson: Shut the fuck up and take it, Tawny! Enjoy it like the little slut you are!

*Branson rips the cuffs off of an obviously unwell Astrid and drags her by her hair to the “camera room”, where he continues his assault*

Branson: *grunting* That’s good, Tawny. You’re getting the hang of this. Astrid: ... *Branson finishes with her but before he gets off her, he finally notices that Astrid is unwell* Branson: Ay, you’re green around the gills. What’s the matter with you?

*Astrid gets up off the bed and wraps a towel around her before becoming distraught*  Astrid: Now you finally care? If you must fucking know, Branson, I was in the middle of throwing up when you knocked on my bathroom door and rushed me.  Branson: And what does that have to do with anything, Tawny? Astrid: ... I... I missed my period a couple weeks ago. I’ve been getting sick every day this week.

Branson: Yeah, and... so what?  Astrid: Are you fucking dumb or do you not know how to read a situation? Branson: Don’t get smart with me. I could strangle you here and now, Bitch.

Branson: Wait a minute. “Missed your period”? “Getting sick all week”?

Branson: Are you pregnant?

Branson: Answer me! Are. You. Pregnant?

Astrid: I think I might be! I don’t know! I’ve been so afraid to talk to anyone since I was brought to this... prison, that I kept my feelings to myself! *starts crying*

*A stunned Branson looks on as a distraught Astrid sinks to the ground in tears*

Branson: Look, I’ll get you a pregnancy test in the morning. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this situation would get you into this mental mess. Astrid, please stand up and look at me.

*Astrid, surprised that Branson called her by her actual name, stands up and turns to look at him* Astrid: Did you just call me by my name?

Branson: Yeah, I did. But don’t get used to it. Anyways... I... I have a son from a previous relationship. He was born after my ex dumped me and I was sent to rehab. I want to do right ny this child that I never did for my son. Astrid: Wha...? You have a kid? Branson: Yes, his name is James.  Astrid: I seriously doubt that you’d do anything for this child... just like your son. Branson: What, do you wanna give birth down here in this cold damp place? Astrid: No... Branson: Then you’ll do as I say, got it? And no more back-sass. It gets on my nerves.

Astrid: Okay. 

[swagging-back-to]

i am so fucking sick of angst writers alllllllways doing the "hes having a panic attack! quick!" "hey bufdy come breathe with me.in, out, in put, good job! wow! keep brewthing!" bullshit.

as someone who has had panic attacks as long as i can remember--NO ONE FUCKING DOES THIS.

if people came up and started crowding me and trying to force me to breathe i would probably just punch them square in the jaw. and i wouldnt even feel bad about it. becausd back the fuck off.

You cannot stop a panic attack. period. you can not fend it off. you have to let it run its course.

the person will often be trying to breathe deep on their own as soon as they notice their vision going back anyway. panic attacks cause nausea. most people take deep breaths when nauseous.

and guess what? fainting during a panic attack isnt uncommon or bad, either. in fact, it can be inevitable.

stop trying to push this psych ward sanitized 'coping'that actually doesnt help. show a real panic attack.

a panic attack that lasts minutes. that doesnt just 'wear off'and then everything is fine. that can't be fixed with just some yoga breathing exercises. give me fainting, throwing up, anger, fear, shame. give me numbness and lack of blood pressure and give me REALISTIC REACTIONS.

again, ive had hundred of panic attacks. the only one where anyone tried to help me was last week in front of my boss that caused me to throw up. she didnt do anything for me, she just sat at her desk working as i sat on the floor in the office and tried to stay present. she asked me if i needed anything and when i said no she left it at that. when i said i had to lay down she said ok, do what you need. when i started to gag she asked if i needed help leaving the room. that was the extent of the help i was given. no one cleaned up my vomit for me. no one came and crowded me or touched me. and it was the best response ive ever gotten for a panic attack.

99% of the time though, no one even knows one occured.even if people witness you have one. they often jduge you LONG before they try to help.

[robbinggoodfellows]

@thespacecatgirl I kinda remembered my idea but its mostly just me projecting on Russ / venting. also its a lot, like I cried writing this bc oops I might have gone a bit far so just fair warning

tw: eating disorders, vomiting, sui, sh

Russel sat on the floor of his dorm during his lunch period. His mom had shown him how to do this a few years ago, how quickly his weight would drop if he could just get over his fear of vomiting. Skipping meals wasn't working anymore. Now that Roman was with him 24/7, it was impossible to get away with not eating. Russ decided he would go to his room during lunch today, not telling Roman where he was because he just couldn't deal with everything right now.

Russel vomited and then leaned back against the bathroom wall. He wiped his fingers on his vest and sighed. Just then, his phone rang. It was Roman. "I have several sources telling me they just heard you puking. Care to explain?" Romans voice was so comforting, even when he was clearly upset. "Sources? What is this, gotcha journalism or something? I'm fine, Roman. I just don't feel good is all." Russ hated lying, it made him more nauseous. "Bullshit." Roman responded, and Russel thought about how he's never heard Roman this angry, "You have too much energy to be sick, when you're sick you can't make stupid witty comments about gotcha journalism."

Russel sighed and accepted that Roman was going to be at his room at any point, and that that would entail having to tell Roman what was wrong. It wasn't like Russ didn't appreciate the way Roman cared about him but, Russel was supposed to be the strong one in their friendship. Russel was supposed to protect him and take care of him not the other way around.

Maybe, if God was as real as the nuns at his school told him, maybe God would kill Russel right now. Or at least give him the power to do it himself. In the moments before Roman arrived at Russels dorm, he had reverse engineered his razor and was laying on the floor of the tiny shower in his bathroom, deep red cuts marking his pale skin.

"Fucking hell, Russ." Roman cursed under his breath as he saw the utter disarray of the room itself. Then he saw the bathroom door, cracked open. He saw Russels arm hanging out of the bathtub like every self harm scene in a movie, 'he's so cliche' Roman thought, trying to ward off the panic as he pushed the door open. "Russel..." he said, staring into the blank expression of his friend. "I'm sorry" Russel whispered, breath hitching as his gaze met Romans. "Tell Charlie I'm so so sorry, ok?" Russ requested, but Roman shook his head and knelt down beside Russel. "No, Russ, you'll tell him yourself, ok? It's gonna be okay. I can help you, ok? You're not going to die Russel; you can't die." Roman scrambled to find bandages or gauze or something to stop the bleeding, Russels blood staining his shirt and smudging across his phone screen as he dialed 9-1-1, trying not to look at Russels face because it hurt too much.

"911, What is your emergency?" The woman on the phone said, Roman put it on speaker so he could press a towel against Russels wounds. "Hello, Im at St. Cassians Catholic School in Uranium city, my friend just tried to kill himself, he's bleeding out, I need help." Roman sobbed a bit, trying to keep Russ conscience by squeezing his hand, knowing Russ always squeezed back. "Please stay with your friend for now, but have someone go get an adult. An ambulance is on its way."

"Roman, I don't want this." Russel said, as soon as Roman hung up the phone, "I don't want to be saved. I'll just be known as the town disappointment. I'll be put in a psych ward I don't want any of this Roman. Just let this happen." Russ cupped Romans cheek gently, wiping away his friends tears.

"Roman..." Russel whispered, just barely audibly, "I love you." He closed his eyes.

To be continued...

[eddiesblklvr]

BABY MAMA. | FEZCO O’NEILL

PAIRING: fezco (euphoria) x blackwoman!oc

SUMMARY: after a long sickness and a missed period, valentine finally realizes what’s wrong with her

WARNINGS: pregnancy (she’s 18 fez is 19), cursing, mentions of vomiting

WORD COUNT: 1.1k (she a lil tiny)

A/N: i want to write more for them so send requests if you want :)

SKYE’S NAV. | FEZCO O’NEILL M.LIST | REQUESTS

for about a month, valentine has been feeling terrible. throwing up constantly through out the day, feeling lightheaded, stomach cramps, feeling nauseous after smelling certain things, and some of her favorite foods made her want to throw up. apart from the obvious symptoms, her period was late, and that scared her.

she was too afraid to tell her boyfriend, so she told his little brother.

“what the fuck you mean you’re pregnant?” ash asks, sitting up in his bed as he looks at her like she’d grown two more heads.

“just come with me to the store, please?”

“why do you think you’re pregnant?” he asks her, narrowing his eyes in confusion. valentine sighs, not really wanting to get into all the feelings she’s been feeling for the past month.

“my period is late. c’mon, get up and get dressed.” valentine’s begging at this point, her eyes pleading for him to do as she says.

“okay,” ash sighs as valentine thanks him and closes the door, giving him time and privacy he needs for him to get up.

“ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

-

“which one should i get?”

“i don’t know, i ain’t been pregnant before,” ash responds, not really noticing how easily pissed off she could get now.

“ashtray, i will kick your lil’ ass down this isle.”

“i was just playing, damn,” ash tells her, “i saw those clear blue commercials on tv, get those.” valentine takes his advice and grabs three clear blue pregnancy tests before walking down the isle to self checkout. she didn’t want to feel judged by the workers for obviously being a possibly pregnant teenager while they scanned the tests.

once they were home, valentine made sure that fez still wasn’t there, him having left earlier that morning.

“im’a be on the couch when you get done,” ash tells her after walking her down to the bathroom and making sure she was okay.

valentine nodded, closing the door while ashtray walks back down the hallway. she quickly unboxes all three of the pregnancy tests, reading over the instructions to make sure she uses them correctly.

after peeing on the sticks, she sits them down on the counter of the sink and situates herself before opening the door for ash.

“ash?”

“wassup?”

“could you—“ she takes a shaky breath before continuing, “could you come sit with me, please?” she doesn’t get an answer but a few seconds later she sees him walking down the hallway towards her.

she sits down on the toilet and sets a timer for 5 minutes, while ash closes the door behind him and sits on the floor beside her.

he hears her sniffling every few seconds but he didn’t really know what to do. he doesn’t know how to comfort people or make them feel better, having himself closed off at all times, but he rests his head on her knees, silently letting the terrified older girl above him know that he was there and that it would be okay.

valentine jumps a little when she hears the timer go off. she doesn’t make a move to stop it of flip over the tests, just stares wide eyed down at him, so ashtray makes the decision to do it for her.

he stands up, grabs her phone from her hands and turns the alarm off. he looks at valentine and sees her still looking up at him as he flips all three of them over. after looking over them a few times, there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. that’s all the confirmation she needs before she’s sobbing into her hands.

ashtray put the tests back on the counter and wraps his arms around her. for as long as he’s known her, he’s never seen her crying this hard. he didn’t know if she was upset or if she happy about the pregnancy at this point, it was hard to tell.

after a few minutes, she was finally able to calm down. she doesn’t know how she’s going to tell fez, she doesn’t know how he would react. she just hopes he won’t be upset or kick her out or something like that.

-

fez, valentine, and faye, dead asleep, were sitting in the living room watching a movie. val wasn’t really watching it, she was too worried about telling fez that she was pregnant with his baby. earlier in the bathroom, she made the decision to tell him that night when he got back home. she thought about it and she realizes that she was being irrational. of course fez wouldn’t be upset or kick her out, they’ve talked about having starting a family before. she knew it was just nerves, but there was still something in the back of her mind that made her scared of them still being a possibility.

he’s noticed her change of behavior all day, how tense she was when he smiled at her or even touched her hand. while she was scared of breaking the news, he was scared that she might’ve been losing feelings for him.

“val,” he calls out, causing her head to turn and look at him, “what’s wrong? you been acting, like, weird all day.” he rubs over her calf and thigh as he looks at her, his blue eyes soft and if you looked harder, you’d see the hint of fear he had in them. he gently pulls her over his lap, helping her straddle him.

fez rests his hands on her hips and waits for a response. he looks down and comes face to face with her breasts, confusion becoming clear on his expression. “aye, how did these get, like, bigger?”

valentine let’s out a soft giggle, sliding her hands from the back of his head to rest on his freckled cheeks, his beard tickling her palms. she looks noticeably nervous, biting on her bottom lip, looking everywhere except his eyes, playing with the chains around his neck, some things she does when she gets nervous.

“i found out why i’ve been so sick,” she says in a whisper like tone.

“yeah?”

“mhm,” she nods, taking a deep breath, “i’m pregnant.”

fezco stared into her eyes for what felt like forever. she saw tears brewing in his waterline and a smile tugging on his lips, making her finally relax.

“for real?” he asks her with a shaky voice, his hands clinging tightly to her hips and waist. valentine nods, not knowing if she would be able to talk without crying again. even through she probably will again as soon as fez does.

“you sure? you not bullshittin’?”

“yes, i’m sure! i took three of them and they all said i am.” she sees tears falling down his cheeks, making her wipe them away before pulling his head onto her chest.

the two of them stay that way for a while as fez rubs, kisses, and talks to her stomach.

“i love y’all so much, mama. swear im’a protect y’all with my fuckin’ life.”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

7 times Merlin shows off his skills as a Physician,

+1 time The Knights have to work together to stitch Merlin up.

TW: Lots of blood and graphic description of injury/sickness.

1)

The patrol had been going perfectly fine, even the small skirmish with a group of bandits was over and done with pretty quickly.

It was when the knights were taking stock of things after the fight that Elyan found Gwaine struggling to stand, leaning his weight against a tree and owlishly blinking his eyes with a look of deep concentration on his face.

Elyan put a soft hand on his back, quietly saying Gwaine’s name. The other knight whips his head up quickly to look at him, and the movement almost toppled him, but Elyan catches him with a hand on each shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Gwaine stares at him with squinted eyes, slurring his words as he slowly says:

“Elyan, mate, I don’t mean to uh... freak you out, but... there’s like... a whole bunch of you.”

It’s then that Elyan finally notices the slow trickle of blood from behind Gwaine’s ear, dribbling down his neck, he keeps hold of Gwaine’s shoulder as he looks behind him:

“Merlin! Gwaine hit his head!”

Elyan looks back around when he hears the knight gasp, to see him looking at him with wide eyes:

“Fuck, did I?? That’s not good, someone should.... should call Merlin.”

Elyan just bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, and nods sympathetically, as if agreeing with him. Gwaine slumps back against the tree and Elyan helps him sit down as Arthur and Merlin finally rush over.

Elyan moves out of the way, and Merlin crouches in front of the injured knight, setting his medical bag next to him as he takes Gwaine’s face in soft hands.

Gwaine gives him a bleary grin as Merlin checks his pupils and huffs:

“You... are very pretty.”

Merlin would have been happy to ignore Gwaine’s nonsense, but flushes slightly when he hears Elyan and Arthur snort behind him. He scowls at them briefly over his shoulder before beginning to clean the wound behind Gwaine’s ear, and checking for any further injury. The other knights gather around, having checked over the bandits for anything of interest, and Percival is the first to speak:

“He’ll be fine, won’t he, Merlin?”

Before Merlin can answer, Gwaine lifts a clumsy hand to pat the physician’s head with a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You know who is fine? This guy, very very fine.”

Merlin chuckles as he blushes, taking Gwaine’s hand and putting it back in the knight’s lap. The others laugh behind him but Merlin ignores them as he works, keeping his gaze on the wound, but speaking to Gwaine:

“Thank you Gwaine, but why don’t you keep your hands to yourself for a few hours?”

Gwaine huffs and pouts, looking very much like a child, but nods when Merlin smiles at him. Merlin finishes up, cleaning his hands as he stands, looking to the knights behind him:

“He’s got a pretty big concussion so he can’t fall asleep for the next twelve hours or so. He might feel nauseous at some point, and his balance will be way off, so I’ll ride with him. We need to keep getting water in him, but other than that, there’s not much we can do until it clears up. He’ll have a banging headache for a few days.”

Arthur nods, trusting Merlin’s judgement and gesturing Leon and Percival forward to help the knight up. Thankfully, they were on the tail end of their patrol and can just ride straight back to the city, but everyone takes great amusement in Gwaine’s slurred and nonsensical flirting with Merlin. That is, until the concussed knight turns his attention to Percival, and devotes his shoddy pick-up lines to the flushed giant, at which point it goes from mildly amusing, to absolutely hilarious.

2)

Everyone worries when Leon doesn’t show up to training.

Gwaine being an hour late? Not a worry. Leon not being early? Definitely a worry.

But when Lancelot sprints back to the training field after being sent to check on him, calling Merlin’s name desperately, everyone’s worry gets vastly amplified.

Merlin runs up to meet him halfway across the field, brow furrowed in worry. Lance rests his hands on his knees for a moment, struggling to speak through his quick breathing:

“He’s... there’s something wrong with him, I... I think he’s sick.”

Merlin immediately starts a quick paced journey back up to the castle, sprinting even quicker than Lancelot in his panic; Arthur and the others follow behind him, having not heard the conversation but turning understandably panicked at Merlin’s reaction.

When they finally catch up to him, he’s sat on the side of Leon’s bed, checking his breathing and pulse with a frown on his face. The knight is practically catatonic, eyes shut tightly, murmuring and twitching in his sleep, drenched in sweat and shivering.

Merlin looks back with a gulp to Arthur, stood by the door with a worried expression:

“I need you to go to Gaius’ chambers and pick up my bag. It’s fully stocked, I re-did it last night and it should have everything I need, but I can’t leave him.”

Arthur’s eyes widen at Merlin’s last words, obviously realising how sick Leon is, but Merlin’s harsh-

“NOW, Arthur!”

-breaks him out of his stupor, and he sprints away in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. The other knights, a breathless Lancelot having finally joined them, go to crowd into the room, but Merlin looks up at them, sternly saying:

“No, everyone out, it’s probably contagious, and with Gaius in the lower-town I do not have enough hands to treat all of you at once. Out.”

They all reluctantly file out of the room, but leave the door open, and Merlin rolls his eyes fondly as they all stand in the hallway, staring at their sick friend with furrowed brows and bitten lips.

Leon mumbles something and shifts in his sleep. Merlin looks back down at him, wiping the sweat slicked hair away from his forehead and rubbing a soft hand up and down his arm. The knight blearily opens his eyes, breaths shallow and rasping as his hand twitches towards Merlin. The younger man gives him a soft smile, hiding his worry as he takes Leon’s hand in his own. Leon relaxes slightly at that, blinking at him confusedly as he mutters:

“Mer...lin? I don’t... don’t feel... great.”

Merlin nods, stroking the back of Leon’s hand as he softly replies:

“I know, Leon, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine in no time, alright? Just go back to sleep.”

Leon nods slightly, and closes his eyes again, trusting Merlin’s words. His hand goes limp in Merlin’s once again and the physician swallows worriedly.

Arthur finally runs back in with Merlin’s bag clutched tightly in his hands. He’s breathing deeply, and at Merlin’s gesture, gently chucks the bag to him from the middle of the room, retreating again to stand by the door.

Merlin turns his attention back to Leon, rummaging through his bag, as Arthur asks, the concern clear in his voice:

“What else do you need, Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t looks up at him as he pulls various supplies out form his bag, checking Leon’s breathing periodically:

“I need a few changes of clothes, a patient pallet brought up from Gaius’ chambers, a constant supply of cold water and clean cloths, and a spare chamber-pot; he’s almost certainly going to throw up at some point.”

Arthur nods, going out to speak to the knights. He sends Percival and Gwaine to the physician’s chambers to bring back some of Merlin’s clothes and a pallet, sends Mordred to talk to the steward about having a servant outside Leon’s chambers constantly so Merlin could have whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, and sends Elyan to rummage through the storage rooms for a spare chamber-pot. 

He walks slowly back into the room, but still keeps his distance, fidgeting harshly with his hands as he gulps, quietly, but worriedly asking:

“Will he be alright??”

Merlin, still not looking up from Leon and his bag, replies softly:

“He should be ok, but I need to keep an eye on him. I’ll be sleeping in here until he’s better, and I won’t be joining you at all until he’s at least up and walking around. Gaius should be back day after tomorrow, so try not to get injured until then, otherwise go to Gwen, she’s got a pretty good understanding of basic treatment. Shut the door behind you.”

Arthur nods mutely, understanding Merlin’s dismissal, and walking from the room silently. He turns back, quietly saying:

“They’ll be a servant out here to fetch anything you need. Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin nods distractedly, focused on mixing some sort of paste in a bowl as Arthur sighs, and shuts the door behind him.

It was about two weeks before Merlin moved out of Leon’s chambers, but it was at least a month before he stopped periodically, almost subconsciously, reaching for the knight’s wrist to check his pulse. There had been a few scares, when his pulse was so weak that Merlin could barely feel it; he lost a lot of sleep over those first two weeks, too afraid to close his eyes in case Leon stopped breathing, and too concerned about his friend to let another physician take over.

Leon found it endearing, but didn’t mention it when he noticed Merlin coincidentally bumping into him multiple times a day and finding excuses to touch his fingers to his wrist or neck, even briefly.

He was fine in the end, thanks to Merlin’s thorough treatment, but it was a scary couple of weeks, when having to think about burying Leon was a genuine worry.

(The knight also demanded that Merlin be given a week off from his manservant duties when he was feeling better, which Arthur eagerly agreed to. Though he did spend almost the entire time trailing Leon round like a lost puppy, under the guise of “making sure he didn’t overdo it”.)

3)

Since he had arrived back in Camelot, Elyan had been spending more and more time in the family’s Blacksmith’s.

He felt the need to fill the void that his father had left in the old forge, and he enjoyed returning to his roots; there was something therapeutic about being surrounded by fire and hot metal once again.

But his years away from it all made him a little clumsy, having lost a little of the instinctual caution he had when he was a teenager. Which is what led him to be sat on a bench in the Physician’s chambers, watching with fond amusement as Merlin fretted and gathered various dressings and bandages.

The burn on Elyan’s arm was serious enough to need more than just cold water, but it was definitely not serious enough to warrant such worry from the Warlock.

He finally came to stand between Elyan’s legs, checking over the burn with soft hands after placing everything he had gathered on the table next to him.

Merlin looked up at the knight, and Elyan had to stop himself frowning at the man’s worry, and was that... fear?

He finally cleared his throat, glancing away briefly before saying:

“I uh... I could lessen the pain a little with magic, if you’re ok with that. But I have more than enough supplies to treat it normally if you don’t want me to, it’s really no-”

Elyan cuts him off with a gentle hand on the shoulder and a soft smile:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We trust you, remember? If you think your magic can help, then by all means, go ahead. I trust you.”

Merlin lets out a breath, relaxing as he nods and returns Elyan’s smile with a weak one of his own. He had only told the truth about his magic a few weeks ago, and things were still a little... raw. After what happened to his father, Merlin was expecting Elyan to be one of the least accepting of the sorcery, and he wasn’t wrong at first, but after a few harsh words from Gwen about all the times Merlin had saved her, and about how hard Merlin had tried to save Tom, Elyan did a complete switch, and became one of The Warlock’s most ardent defenders.

Elyan marvelled at the warmth spreading down his arm as Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he muttered a few incantations. The burn was still there, but it seemed cleaner, and definitely hurt less. Merlin followed up his magic with some burn salve and carefully wrapped bandages, looking up at Elyan with relief in his eyes at the knight’s fond, trusting smile.

He continued his bustling around the chambers under Elyan’s amused watch, returning with a few small tinctures:

“Take one of these a day, starting this evening; it’ll help with the pain overnight. Come back the day after tomorrow and I’ll re-bandage it. Let me know if... uh, you want me to... you know-”

He wiggles his fingers vaguely, and Elyan raises an amused eyebrow at him, slowly saying:

“Re-do the magic?”

Merlin bites his lip and nods slightly. Elyan gives him a wide grin, hopping off the bench and ruffling Merlin’s hair:

“Will do, Merls. Thank you.”

With that, the knight walks cheerfully out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving a very happy, slightly less worried Warlock/Physician/Servant behind

4)

A particularly impressive move from Lancelot and a misstep from Arthur is what leads to The King sat on the grass with a belt between his teeth and Merlin stood behind him, one hand reached around and flat on his chest, the other on his shoulder-blade.

Lancelot is understandably freaking out, and Arthur is half focussed on how impressed he is, and half focussed on the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

Merlin moves his hand slightly and Arthur groans around the belt, biting down as the servant mutters an apology:

“Sorry. This is gonna hurt like a bitch but I need you to stay as still as possible, ok?-”

Arthur nods slightly, mumbling something that sounds like “just get on with it”, but it’s hard to understand with a mouth stuffed with leather:

“-Alright, on three, ok? One, TWO-”

On two, Merlin pushes Arthur’s arm back into it’s socket with a sickening pop, and The King groans even louder, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on the belt in his pain. The knights all wince in sympathy, Leon putting a soft hand on Arthur’s other shoulder as the man breathes deeply.

After a few moments, Merlin straightens the arm, moving it round in a circle to make sure everything is where it’s meant to be, before grabbing the sling he’d had Percival hold, and wrapping Arthur’s arm carefully, letting it hang against his chest.

Arthur finally spits the belt out, grimacing as he flexes his shoulder slightly. Merlin puts a hand back on his shoulder, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. The blond lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding at the blissful numbness spreading from his shoulder, down his arm and across his back, before looking up at an almost hysterical Lancelot.

Arthur chuckles at Lance’s face, shaking his head slightly as he says:

“Very impressive, Lancelot, though if you could save that for enemies, that would be great.”

Lancelot finally bursts, not seeming to have heard Arthur’s praise:

“Ar- Your Majesty I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

Arthur waves his free hand in dismissal, taking Mordred’s offered hand and standing up, still with an impressed smile on his face:

“Don’t be stupid Lance, like I said, it was very impressive, and with Merlin around there’s no harm done.-”

Merlin grins and blushes at the subtle compliment.

“-Besides, I dole out at least one injury a month, it’s about time one of you got me back. Well done Lance, you beat everyone else.”

He says it with a grin, and Lancelot finally relaxes slightly, raking a hand through his hair as he gives the amused King a weak smile, much to the other knights’ amusement. Merlin steps back in front of Arthur adjusting the sling and speaking forcefully:

“No training at all for a week, no full contact sparring or skirmishes with bandits for two. And I want to check it again before you start.”

Arthur’s face falls indignantly and he whines:

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad! It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

Merlin scowls:

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt because I numbed it with magic, prat.”

Arthur looks like he wants to argue, but Merlin just raises an eyebrow (very reminiscent of Gaius), the meaning of “I dare you to argue with me right now” VERY clear.

Arthur backs down, muttering a petulant “fine” under his breath, much to the knights’ amusement.

5)

To say that Mordred was panicking would be a vast understatement.

But to be fair, everyone was panicking.

Everyone thought that the fight had gone rather well, finally surviving a battle with mercenaries injury free, that was until Mordred had tried to stand up, only to find that he couldn’t breath, and his chest hurt.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he lay on the ground, squeezing Arthur’s hand so tightly The King was sure it would bruise; but he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was running his free hand over the younger man’s armour, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong.

Mordred took in shallow, gasping breaths, his vision swimming as the stabbing pain in his chest spiked with every movement. He had been calling out for Emrys in his head, unable to speak, and finally the panicked man burst through the trees, pushing through the crowd of knights and dropping to his knees at Mordred’s side.

He’d wondered off an hour or so ago to collect some herbs for Gaius, and had missed the whole fight, though he’d begun his sprint back when Mordred had called out for him at the start of the battle, pushing himself even faster when it became apparent that the younger man was badly injured.

Arthur immediately looks up at him, but doesn’t let go of Mordred’s hand as he speaks quickly, only just managing to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“He can’t breath properly, I think he got kicked in the chest but there’s no blood or anything, I don’t know what’s wrong with him Merlin, he can’t breath.”

Merlin curses under his breath, wiping Mordred’s hair away from his face as he rushes to say:

“Help me get his armour off, someone grab me my smallest knife and a roll of bandages, now.”

With that, Percival rushes to the dropped medical bag, riffling through it for what Merlin had asked for as Gwaine and Elyan rush to remove Mordred’s armour, and Leon and Lancelot move to stand guard, watching for any more attackers.

Mordred whimpers every time he’s jostled, but Merlin and Arthur hush him, squeezing his hand and stroking his hair. With the focused look on Merlin’s face, Arthur can tell that he’s talking to the Druid through their mental link, so doesn’t say anything, knowing that it’s probably the only thing stopping Mordred from panicking even more.

The armour finally comes off, and Merlin quickly puts his ear to Mordred’s chest, cursing to himself once more as he holds his hand out wordlessly for the knife.

Percival puts it in his hand without hesitation, and Merlin quickly cuts Mordred’s tunic away before hovering the sharp point over the side of his chest, looking up to Elyan and Gwaine still kneeled at his side and saying:

“Hold him down, he can NOT move when I do this.”

They don’t ask what “this” is, trusting that he knows what he’s doing as Gwaine moves to straddle Mordred’s thighs and hold his hips down, and Elyan pushes his shoulders into the floor. Arthur leans over to take both of Mordred’s hands tightly in his own, and without any more hesitation, Merlin pushes the blade down into Mordred’s chest with a soft apology.

Mordred whimpers even more, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and letting out a pained yelp when Merlin twists the knife slightly. With the movement, there’s a hiss of air, and Mordred takes a deep, gasping breath.

Merlin relaxes slightly, and nods at the others to let go. Gwaine and Elyan move back, but Arthur stays, holding Mordred’s hands and trying to cover the disgust on his face as Merlin holds the knife in place.

Mordred finally opens his eyes, and Merlin gives him a reassuring smile before looking to Elyan:

“Elyan, you’ve got the steadiest hands, I need you to hold this-”

He nods down at the knife, and Elyan’s eyes widen in panic before he gulps and nods his head, carefully taking the knife from Merlin’s hands, and holding it place. Merlin moves to where Elyan had been sat, above Mordred’s head, and he leans down, moving his ear from one side of the Druid’s chest to the other, careful to avoid Elyan’s hands holding the knife.

He listens to each side for about ten seconds each time, moving between them a few times, before finally sitting up and nodding to himself in satisfaction. He grabs the roll from Percival’s shaking hands, once again wiping the hair from Mordred’s forehead and giving him a reassuring smile, before looking back up at Elyan:

“Pull it out when I say go, ok? Straight out, don’t twist it, don’t bend your wrist, just straight out.-”

Elyan nods firmly and at Merlin’s-

“-Go!”

-he pulls the knife out, quickly getting out of the way as Merlin presses one hand over the wound, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. Mordred lets out a breath as he’s relieved form the pain slightly, closing his eyes briefly before Merlin says:

“No, come on Mordred, I need you to stay awake, I need to know that you’re ok whilst I do this alright? You can sleep later, I promise.”

Mordred nods slightly as he opens his still teary eyes, and Arthur leans closer, smiling at him and asking some unimportant question about what he wants for his birthday coming up. Merlin gives the King a grateful smile as he brings his hand away from the bloody wound, glad to see that the spell had worked and the bleeding had slowed considerably.

With the help of Gwaine and Elyan, Merlin gets Mordred into a sitting position, wrapping the bandages tightly around his chest, periodically checking his pulse and breathing with his hand.

He ties it off, letting a breath of relief escape him as he collapses back onto the floor. Mordred is slumped against Arthur, groaning as he desperately tries to keep his eyes open, but Merlin presses a hand to his forehead, eyes once again glowing gold as he mutters:

“Sleep.”

The younger man passes out pretty much immediately, and Arthur supports his weight, giving Merlin a concerned, questioning look. The Warlock meets his gaze, giving him a weak smile and nod:

“Collapsed lung, had to release the pressure. He’ll be fine, but infection is a concern so I need to get him back to Camelot as soon as possible.”

Arthur nods, and with a gesture from him, Leon and Lancelot lean down to pick the younger man up, carefully depositing him on the front of Arthur’s horse, to be taken back to the castle.

Merlin looks around to the others, noticing the shaking that had slowly started in Elyan’s hands as he stares down at the blood coating his fingers. Merlin touches a soft hand to his shoulder, and Elyan gasps, looking up at him quickly with wide eyes. Merlin gives him a smile, hovering his hand over Elyan’s as he murmurs a spell.

The knight looks down again to see his hands completely clean, and he flexes his fingers, before giving Merlin a tight smile, and muttering a quiet thank you.

Everyone mounts their horses, quickly urging them to follow Arthur back to Camelot.

6)

Lancelot was trying his best not to wince, but his wrist really did hurt.

They’d just made camp; Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur were on their way back from visiting Hunith in Ealdor for a few days.

Originally it was meant to just be Merlin and Lance, but Arthur insisted that he come along for extra protection. All three of them knew it was just an excuse (Merlin was the most powerful Warlock in existence after all) but no one mentioned it. It had taken months and a lot of sleepless nights for Arthur to finally get the magic ban repeal through, and Lance and Merlin knew he needed a few days off, with no worries or responsibilities or titles or stupid crowns or councillors or meetings, so they were happy to have him tag along.

The knight must have sprained it when fixing the barn roof, but was reluctant to say anything; he didn’t want to put a dampener on the mood, and Hunith had been so accommodating, he didn’t want to be a bother. But when Merlin noticed him struggling to remove his saddle-bag with one hand, he raised an eyebrow, and held his hand out wordlessly.

Lancelot went to fake innocence, but Merlin just raised his eyebrow further and crooked his fingers. The knight sighed, putting his wrist in Merlin’s hand with nothing but a sheepish look. The Court Sorcerer ran his fingers over the soft skin there, noting the bruise with a disapproving tut before he mutters a spell.

His eyes flash gold, and Lance flexes his wrist as both the pain and bruise recede. He nods with a smile:

“You’re getting better at that.”

Merlin just huffs and rolls his eyes:

“Yes, well, you knights do insist on giving me plenty of opportunities to practice.-”

Lancelot huffs out a brief laugh, before he quietly apologises. Merlin just shakes his head with a smile:

“-It’ll still be tender for a few days, so don’t use it too much, Physician’s orders.”

Lancelot smirks slightly, and Merlin knows he isn’t going to like what he says:

“Of course, anything you say My Lord.”

Merlin scowls and squeezes the knight’s wrist slightly, muttering-

“I will turn you into a fucking toad.”

-much to Lancelot’s amusement.

Arthur finally reappears from collecting firewood, and raises an eyebrow at Merlin’s scowl and Lancelot’s laughter:

“What are you two up to, or do I not want to know?”

Merlin huffs and stomps off to collect his saddle-bag, and Lancelot clears his throat, still chuckling as he replies:

“Hmm. It would appear that Lord Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, Protector of the Once and Future King, Last of the Dragon-Lords, is not all that fond of his fancy new title.”

Arthur laughs, and Lancelot forgets his now long-gone pain in favour of joining in.

7)

This was one of the most serious injuries any of them had seen in a very long time.

Leon had been called in the tent to help Merlin, having been the least tired with the steadiest hands at the time.

Arthur was pacing angrily, Mordred was doing his best to meditate, Lancelot held one of Gwaine’s hands in his own, and Elyan had an arm around his shoulders, as Gwaine himself bounced his foot up and down. At the beginning, he’d tried to hold his tears in, but as the image of a bloody and dying Percival slowly cemented itself in his mind, he gave up, and let them flow.

They’d been in there for hours, and whilst the rest of the knights tried to have faith, the angry curse that Merlin had let out almost two hours ago, closely followed by hurried movements and Leon shakily asking what he needed to do, had not helped their anxieties.

Inside the tent, they were just finishing up. There was blood everywhere, metres worth of soaked bandages strewn around the tent, along with most of Merlin’s medical bag, which had been upturned and spread around for quick access.

Leon was exhausted, having spent hours monitoring Percival’s breathing and pulse with no break, passing Merlin whatever he asked for, and occasionally having to hold bits of his friend together whilst Merlin worked his magic (both literally, and metaphorically). But however tired Leon was, Merlin was a hundred times worse.

He’d drained most of his energy during the fight, and had to dig incredibly deep to pull out enough magic to keep Percival alive whilst he stitched him back together. The blade he’d been stabbed with was imbued with dark magic, and shards had splintered inside the wound. Luckily, no organs had been punctured, but plenty of blood vessels had been nicked, and nothing could be left inside or it would cause likely deadly problems later down the line.

That just meant almost everything had to be done by hand; magic was useful in keeping the knight asleep, and dulling the pain as much as he could, but as far as the actual healing went, Merlin had to focus on keeping his mind sharp and his hands steady.

His face had remained blank, and his voice deadpan through the whole process, and around half a candle-mark in, Leon asked in a whisper:

“How are you so calm? I... I’m trying my best but I don’t know how you’re doing this.”

Merlin doesn’t look up at him as he quietly replies:

“If I panic, he dies. I have to trust that I know what I’m doing, and just get on with it. You’re doing fine, Leon. It isn’t... it isn’t Percival, it’s just another knight-”

Merlin’s voice lowers, whispering his last words to himself:

“-just another patient.”

Leon nods, taking another of many deep breaths, focusing on keeping his hands steady and counting Perci- the patient’s breaths.

It was maybe an hour later, that Leon widened his eyes, looking up at Merlin in a panic; before he can say anything, Merlin feels it as well, cursing loudly to himself and dredging up his last reserves of magic to hold his tools in place (in Percival’s abdomen), moving up hurriedly to be by his chest, where he quickly starts CPR.

Leon takes a deep breath, gulping before says:

“Merlin, what do I... what do I do??”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, focusing on keeping rhythm, and Leon can hear him counting under his breath; he gets to twenty-seven when the knight starts breathing on his own again, and Merlin gives himself enough time to take a fortifying breath before going back to the wound and carrying on with what he’d been doing, as if nothing had just happened.

Another hour later, Merlin was putting the last stitches in, satisfied with his work, but by no means... hopeful.

And half a candle mark after that, the knight had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged, tightly.

Leon (shakily) and Merlin (blankly) cleaned all of the Physician’s tools, and packed away all the detritus; they needed to keep Percival’s environment as clean as possible. He’d tried to force himself to do more, but Merlin’s energy had almost completely abandoned him, and Leon had convinced him to give it a rest; the longer he tried to force it, the longer it would be before his magic built up enough to be useful again.

Merlin finally exited the tent, drenched in blood, leaving Leon to keep an eye on Percival whilst he went to update the others.

When he set foot on the leaves, everyone’s head whipped up. Arthur had given up his pacing, and Mordred had abandoned his meditating, but Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot were all still huddled together; though everyone jumped up quickly when they set eyes on Merlin.

They looked at him expectantly, desperately, and Merlin met Arthur’s gaze first:

“You need to go sit with him, Arthur-”

He’s interrupted by a pained cry from Gwaine, and Arthur’s grief-stricken face. A request for the King to go sit with an injured man... that could only mean one thing in their minds. Merlin held his hands (still bloody) up placatingly:

“-he stopped breathing once, but we got him going again. If he makes it cleanly through the night then his chances shoot up, but if he gets an infection before morning then... there won’t be much I can do. Someone needs to go in with Arthur to take over from Leon, he’s exhausted-”

Mordred takes a step forward, a concerned look on his face as he softly says:

“You’re tired too, Merlin, you should sleep.”

Arthur nods, but Merlin waves him off, muttering:

“I’m fine.”

Everyone notices the bleariness of his eyes, and the shaking that had just begun in his hands, but they don’t say anything. They had been expecting this, it happens every time there’s a serious, life threatening injury. Merlin can compartmentalise for as long as needs to, but shock usually hits an hour or so later, when everything catches up to him. With how serious this injury had been, with how exhausted Merlin is, and how covered in blood he is, they aren’t surprised that it’s hitting a little sooner than normal.

Arthur nods at Elyan, and the knight takes that as his cue to go into the tent. Leon walks out a moment later, almost as covered in blood as Merlin, and breathing deeply, tears in his eyes as he heavily sits down. Lancelot wraps him in a blanket cleaning his hands wordlessly with a wet cloth before pushing him to the floor and telling him to get some sleep. Leon closes his eyes and is gently snoring within seconds; Lancelot goes back to Gwaine, forcing the man to look away from the still fairly bloody Leon as he whispers reassurances to him.

As this is happening, Arthur walks slowly to Merlin, putting a soft hand on his shoulder and gently saying:

“What do you need, Merlin? Right now, what do you need?”

Merlin’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as he stared down at his hands, covered in blood and now shaking violently. He looks up in shock at Arthur’s touch, seeming to have forgotten that he wasn’t alone:

“I.. uh, I need two people with Percival at all times, monitoring his breathing, pulse, and temperature. I need... need his pupils checked every ten minutes or so, and I need someone to count how many rolls of bandages I’ve got left so I can figure out how often I can afford to change them and.... and I-”

He looks back down to his hands, gulping, and Arthur can tell that Merlin is really not with it as he continues:

“-I need to go... go and wash my hands.... excuse me.”

With that, he stumbles off in the direction of the stream they had been taking water from. Arthur gestures at Mordred to follow the Warlock, before exchanging short nods with Lancelot, and going into the tent.

Mordred grabs a cloth and a spare tunic, before following Merlin’s trail. When he catches up to him, the older man is knelt at the side of the stream, scrubbing his hands viciously in the water. Mordred sits slowly besides him, gulping before quietly saying:

“Emrys? Merlin?”

Merlin hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t look up, and Mordred huffs quietly, leaning over to take Merlin’s hands with a quiet:

“Let me.”

Merlin tenses only slightly before he fully relaxes, and the two men move to sit cross-legged, facing each other. Mordred dips the cloth he bought in the stream, and carefully wipes the blood from Merlin’s hands and arms. The Warlock sits absolutely still, and Mordred can tell that he isn’t really... present. He tilts Merlin’s head up, and his eyes seem to come into focus slightly as the Druid cleans away the blood on Merlin’s cheek and temple.

Mordred puts the cloth to the side, picking up a spare tunic and offering it to the other man:

“I thought you’d like to change.”

Merlin looks down to the offered fabric, and it takes him a few moments to process what Mordred had said before he nods slowly, and takes the tunic. He stands on wobbly legs, and Mordred quickly follows him, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. 

Mordred looks away as Merlin changes. It wasn’t that he really cared, but Merlin was usually incredibly careful to hide his scars from people, (though everyone was aware that they existed, having caught glimpses here and there) but he was far too out of it to realise what he’d done. Mordred refused to take advantage of Merlin’s shock just to satiate his own curiosity about the marks marring his mentor’s skin.

He looks back to see Merlin just stood there blankly, bloody tunic dumped on the floor and hands still shaking slightly. Mordred sighs, he’s been warned about this, but he’s never seen it this bad before; it would seem that the last few hours had finally caught up to Merlin. The Druid takes a few careful steps forward, gently laying his hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he speaks to him in his mind:

“Merlin? You with me?”

His body doesn’t move at all, but Mordred can see his jaw twitch as he gets-

“I’m... I’m with you.”

-from the link. He sighs again, pulling Merlin into a hug; one hand running through the other man’s hair, the other hand firmly in the centre of his back, acting as an anchor, trying to keep Merlin in the here and now. It takes a few moments, but Merlin returns the hug eventually, burying his face in the crook of Mordred’s neck, and holding him tightly round the middle, breathing deeply.

Merlin takes a deep breath as he feels Mordred’s magic probing him for injuries and soothing his headache and exhaustion. In all the rush of Percival almost dying, Merlin hadn’t checked in with himself, and is surprised when Mordred finds, and heals, a bruised rib, and a cut on the back of his leg. Mordred doesn’t have nearly enough energy to be of any help to Percival, but he can heal Merlin’s aches and pains.

Merlin pulls back from the hug, giving Mordred a brief, teary smile before he croaks out:

“I need to go back to Perci-”

He’s cut off by Mordred harshly shaking his head and placing a hand on the side of Merlin’s neck:

“No, you’re exhausted Merlin, you need sleep. Arthur and Elyan are looking after Percival, but you and Leon both need at least a few hours of rest.-”

Merlin looks annoyed, like he wants to argue but is too tired to come up with a retort, and Mordred continues:

“-I promise, I will wake you up if anyone needs anything, but you’re of no use to Percival exhausted. Merlin, you’re about to keel over, and you don’t have any magic reserves left, I’ve given you a little of mine to start you off, but you need sleep.”

Merlin looks at him, his gaze assessing, though sleepy. He gulps, sagging slightly as he whispers:

“You promise you’ll wake me?”

Mordred gives him a weak smile:

“I promise.”

With that, Mordred picks up the bloodied cloth and tunic, tucking them under one arm as he pulls Merlin’s arm over his shoulder, semi-dragging the Warlock back to camp. He lays him down next to Leon, and the knight, in his sleep, reaches out and pulls him close.

Mordred lays another blanket over the two of them, before traipsing over to sit with Lancelot and Gwaine, where he finally lets his tears fall.

+1)

If Merlin knew how ridiculously they’d act, he would have hidden his injury and just dealt with it himself.

Unfortunately, Merlin had mistakenly assumed that Camelot’s seven best knights (one of whom was also King), would be able to be a little more composed.

He sat on a large rock, one arm hanging limply at his side, dripping blood onto the floor, as he stared at the knights. Mordred and Percival looked close to tears, Gwaine looked close to vomiting, Leon and Lancelot were just about managing to stay calm (but Merlin could see the panic in their eyes), Elyan was desperately riffling through Merlin’s bag, muttering something along the lines of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the-” , and Arthur was hovering directly in front of Merlin, biting his lip and breathing deeply as he offers reassurances to Merlin.

Merlin is half distracted by the pain, and half trying not to laugh at everyone’s panic. He’d both treated AND had so much worse than an arrow to the shoulder; don’t get him wrong, it was serious-ish, but it did not warrant this level of panic from seven of the Kingdom’s most fearsome warriors.

Elyan finally bustles over, hands full of random medical equipment, at least half of which are definitely not needed right now, but Merlin holds in his chuckle and doesn’t say anything. Arthur turns to the knight, gesturing everyone to gather close as he says, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“Ok, do we take it out? Or do we break off the shaft and leave the head in?? I can’t fucking remember...-”

He trails off, and Merlin rolls his eyes, walking quietly to the remainder of his medical bag, and pulling out what he needs as he sits back on his rock. Gwaine glances back at him, but looks away again quickly as his face goes a little green and he mutters:

“Oh my Gods there’s so much blood.”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes; there really isn’t that much.

Leon looks to Merlin, and is the first to notice the man calmly sat there, treating his own injury. He lets out a very undignified yelp, stalking over and pulling the bandages and alcohol from Merlin’s hands and giving him a stern look:

“No, absolutely not, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll make it worse, we’ll do it.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again, and gestures to the panicking group behind Leon incredulously as he says:

“This really isn’t a big deal, you lot are making a fuss out of nothing, I’ve had so much worse; can I have my stuff back now??”

Leon huffs, and Lancelot walks up to stand next to him, a concerned frown on his face:

“No, we’ll do it. Just... just talk us through it? It’s about time we had to stitch you up, I knew we’d need to eventually.”

Merlin stares at him for a few minutes, before sighing and shaking his head:

“Fine. Only you and Leon though, everyone else is too... jittery, for my peace of mind. They’re allowed no where near the arrow, or the needle and thread.”

At that, Gwaine goes even more green, mumbling a a quiet-

“Oh Gods, he needs stitches.”

-as he turns away. Merlin just scoffs slightly, and gestures Leon and Lancelot closer:

“Check the arrow for weakness, if it’s fully intact and feels strong, just yank it out. If it snaps, you’re going to have to dig the head out with a knife.”

Leon pales slightly, but nods, stroking his hand up and down the arrow far to gently to actually be able to tell anything. Merlin rolls his eyes:

“For pities sake-”

With that, he lifts his hand up, and pulls the arrow out in one quick motion, thankfully the head along with it. Gwaine promptly turns around and throws up in a bush, Percival running soft circles over his back distractedly as he stares in disgust at the bloody arrow in Merlin’s hand.

Leon gasps and Lancelot lets out an inhuman screech as he clamps a hand over the wound. Mordred whimpers and Arthur lifts a slow hand to cover his open mouth. Elyan blows a harsh breath out, stumbling back slightly and dropping all the things he had been carrying, much to Merlin’s annoyance.

Lancelot angrily looks to Merlin as Leon’s shaky hands try to thread a needle:

“Why?? Why would you do that Merlin? We have to be careful, we have to... we have to treat it properly.”

Merlin clears his throat, wincing slightly at the pain:

“You were being too careful. Let me put it this way, the longer you take, the more likely I am to get an infection and die a horrible death, all from a very simple, easy to fix wound.”

Merlin can vaguely hear Gwaine vomiting again in the background.

Leon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he mutters to himself:

“Just another patient.”

Merlin remembers what he’d said all those months ago on Percival’s almost-deathbed, and rolls his eyes; this was hardly of the same magnitude, but if it helped Leon thread the damn needle, then he wasn’t going to say anything. The First Knight looked up to Lancelot, showing him that it was ready, and Lancelot looks to Merlin:

“What next, we clean it, right?”

Merlin nods amusedly, and gestures to the glass bottle of alcohol that Leon had taken from him, and a clean cloth:

“It’s gonna sting like hell but keep going alright? Wash it out properly, then put pressure on it until the bleeding slows, then stitch it up. You know how to do stitches?”

Lancelot shakes his head, but Arthur steps forward and nods, taking the needle from Leon as he says:

“I do, I’ll do it.”

Merlin takes a deep breath a nods, and with that, Lancelot cleans out the wound. Merlin hisses in pain, clenching his hands tightly as Lancelot mutters apologies and the other knights crowd closer. Leon strokes a soft hand up the Warlock’s back, Arthur has a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder, Mordred was whispering reassurances through the mental link, Elyan stood by with bandages and clean cloths, and Gwaine gave Merlin his best smile, despite still looking a bit sick with Percival at his side, holding him up.

Finally it comes time for stitching, and Lancelot swaps places with The King, Merlin one again rolling his eyes as the blond takes a deep, fortifying breath. He finally starts the stitches, and compared to the alcohol just moments earlier (and the Serket sting, and the Dorocha attack, and the fireball, and the poison, and the and the and the...) it’s a tickle. 

Merlin starts making a mental list in his head of all the things he’ll need to replace from his bag next time he gets to the market, which had apparently been the wrong thing to do, because a few minutes later Arthur is slapping him gently on the cheek and calling his name. Merlin turns to look at him incredulously:

“What??”

And Arthur heaves a sigh of relief:

“There you are, we thought we’d lost you.”

“Lost me? It’s an arrow to the shoulder, I’m fine! I was just thinking about all the bloody shopping I’m going to have to do, because you’ve given me at least two extra stitches, and used way too much alcohol and bandages! Honestly.”

Arthur is a little taken aback at Merlin’s outburst, but starts laughing after a few moments of shock, everyone else joining in, slightly hysterically. Merlin looks around at them, bewildered:

“Look, I know I... go into shock or whatever when someone almost dies but this... this is too much. You’re all ridiculous, and next time, I’m treating my damn self.” 

Leon finally breaks out of his giggles, ruffling Merlin’s hair slightly:

“We’re just glad you’re ok, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly, giving the knights a reassuring smile:

“I am ok, I’m absolutely fine. Honestly, seven of Camelot’s finest warriors all hysterically panicking over an arrow to the shoulder. Gods, I hope you know I’m telling Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen about this, and they WILL laugh at you.”

Arthur turns on him quickly, pointing a finger in Merlin’s face as he flushes:

“You absolutely will not.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking dangerously:

“Try me.”

~

THE END!!

Ok so this one was one of my favourite prompts ever and I’m so grateful @semideadpanda sent it in, so thank you!!

If anyone wants to extend this or write it out properly, then go for it!!

Check out This List of things I’m working on, it will likely be #15 next! :)

[blackradandmad]

my experience with lupron/”puberty blockers”

i have severe endometriosis. i was diagnosed at 16 and had three major surgeries for it before i turned 19. i started birth control for my six weeks long, heavy, debilitating periods when i started having them at 12. by 19, i had tried every birth control under the sun (with no success) -- except lupron. lupron, a gnrh agonist commonly used on males as a treatment for prostate cancer, on women in fertility treatments, on women with endometriosis, aaaaand yup, this is the exact same drug parents let be injected into girls with the euphemistic title of a “puberty blocker.” (i promise we’ll circle back to this hold on) 

luckily, i live two hours away from one of the most accomplished endometriosis specialists/surgeon in the world, and he is so passionate about finding a cure or at least better treatments for women with endometriosis. he’s an obgyn but he literally doesn’t do the obstetrics part, he purely focuses on helping each woman find their best treatment for this disease. he has such a vast amount of knowledge on surgery techniques and surgical robots and different treatment options, and he is incredibly thorough when it comes to informed consent. if something could happen or has happened-- positive, negative, or neutral-- he will tell you about it. in detail. now this is important, because after decades of observing treatment effects and listening to women and researching side effects, his personal philosophy is that the lupron injection should be a last resort. like, after major surgery last resort. if a woman wants to try it first thing, he won’t stop her, buuuut after he gives her all the possible short and long term side effects, she usually is eager to explore other options. 

(enter me) 19, three surgeries, dependent on opioid painkillers just to be able to get out of bed in the morning, and now, a fun new symptom! every time i begin to bleed, my heart develops an arrhythmia and i experience constant, burning chest pain. i begin to violently cough up blood. so, my endometriosis has spread to my lungs, may randomly cause my lungs to collapse at literally any moment, and i’ve exhausted all treatment options. except! lupron. the devil drug. the horror stories i heard from other women were insane, and that was just the short-term side effects. my doctor had to go through the process of explaining both short and long term side effects as i cried in the office chair because i knew that i had to take this drug. there was nothing else left for me, and things were getting worse. so i did. i was on it for a year. you want to know what that year was like? 

i was suicidal, homicidal, and fell headfirst into the most severe and detrimental manic episode of my life. i experienced psychotic symptoms, and that along with the aforementioned symptoms led me to a week long stay at the psych ward. i did not have one day without severe joint and bone pain. i broke three bones, all while running or walking, when i had never broken a bone before. i’m already epileptic, but i had two hospital stays for uncontrollable tonic-clonic seizures while i was on it. i couldn’t sleep. i got night sweats and night terrors. i either couldn’t eat a thing or felt absolutely insatiable. regardless, i was always nauseous and got sick a lot. now, six years later, i still deal with worsening osteopenia, making me at high risk to develop osteoporosis. at 25. and the kicker is, it did shit-all for my endometriosis. it made me sick on top of sick on top of sick etc etc. and i’m not a rarity. men and women from all ages and all walks of life have experienced this and worse, and many people, like me, are still dealing with the fallout of it, years or even decades later. i do not believe this drug should be on the market for literally anything at all.

i was an adult and lupron gave me the worst fucking year of my life. and there are parents letting their HEALTHY children be injected with this at age 12, instead of realizing that if their child is so deeply afraid of puberty that they would rather take a decidedly harmful drug that essentially chemically castrates men and puts women in pseudo-menopause for years, let’s maybe try to work out the cause of that fear in some therapy sessions and group art classes and getting involved in sports or something. i can imagine that it’s pushed at gender clinics without touching on the negative effects too much because, well, lupron drugmakers and salespeople have a history of bribing prescribing doctors with trips, fancy dinners, resorts, or straight up telling a doctor they could earn $100K extra a year just by prescribing lupron to their patients. they went to court and were fined $875,000,000 for it, although i’m sure that’s pocket change for a company who profited $826,000,000 off the drug in 2015 alone, and i doubt they cleaned up their act. if a doctor is willing to give a female child lupron simply because she doesn’t “feel like a girl,” while being completely or even just half-way aware of all the negative side effects of it and backlash it’s received in the medical community, they might as well smear their own shit on the hippocratic oath they swore on, and they should probably give up their license while they’re at it.

[sixeyesgojo]

jjk characters handling your period

Summary: “What do you mean, no baby this month either? Okay, suffer then.” - your damn uterus

Pairings: Gojo/Megumi/Nanami/Naoya/Toji x Reader

Content warning: the monthly bloody nightmare your uterus puts you through and the whole shebang that comes with it, language warning, suggestive themes, explicit warning for Toji (you’ll see why)

A/N: purely self-indulgent because I suffer. @megumifushi and @sukirichi , my gals, I gotcha. Also dedicated to all readers who suffer from the same fate (may it be right now or not). Also: Yes, absolutely open the video I linked in Megumi’s part (it’s safe, I promise).

Gojo Satoru

You turn and turn in bed uncomfortably. Something isn’t right, you think and it’s not the fact that Satoru is missing next to you. Not knowing immediately irritates you. All of a sudden you become painfully aware of your lower region. Yes, of course it had to be that time of the month. You just knew you already stained your panties and perhaps the sheets haven’t been spared either. Getting out of bed, then realizing it was already past noon, you sprinted to the bathroom. Fuck, moving fast was not a good idea. 

Having changed the sheets and your stained panties, you made your way to the kitchen. Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, but at the same time you feared. Smelling food, let alone tasting too much of it, was a slippery slope – either your nose would protest or your stomach, no in-between. Regardless, you had to eat; or were you supposed to starve to death because of this? Not in this lifetime. “I AM BACK!” an annoyingly loud voice rang through the apartment. You groan and turn around. “Fuck off, Satoru,” you say. Your irritation flaring up for seemingly no reason. “Stop being so motherfucking loud. My head feels like it’s going to split in two and my pussy is fighting the crimson war right now,” you snarled at him.

“Oh honey, seems like I called the right shots then,” he declared proudly and held up a bag filled with... snacks? “I already called in sick for you for the next few days,” Satoru continued to explain as he wrapped his arms around you, “and I’ll be by your side 24/7 for the next two days. We’ll do fun stuff. How does movie night with lots of cuddling for tonight sound?”

“Why are you so nice to me right now?” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Simple: I don’t want to be castrated by you,” he whispered back and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Fair enough. What will we do tomorrow?” He stayed silent but pulled out a black card out of his sleeve. You gasped.

Fushiguro Megumi

Ping. A notification. Quickly, you scrambled to get your phone to see what that was about. You desperately needed some distraction right now. The pain was too much. Your boyfriend Megumi had gone somewhere you didn’t know. All you knew was that your boobs were sore, the sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric were already too much. In addition to that, you also experienced period cramps, resulting in back pain as well. Life was not easy at the moment but at least you could lay in bed for today, doing absolutely nothing.

Unlocking your phone, you saw a new message from Yuji: “omg look at this???” [Video link] It was a video of 42 seconds. There was a cute seal – probably the cutest and fluffiest seal you have ever seen – and background music. It may have only lasted 42 seconds but it definitely triggered some happy feelings inside you; it was so pure and you loved the energy of the clip. Perhaps these feelings were a bit too intense and overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It wasn’t even a sad video, was it?

You buried your face in the blankets, weeping as if someone just broke up with you. Through your loud crying, you did not notice the door opening. A jangling noise could be heard from your nightstand. Instantly, you shot up to check for intruders but luckily, it was Megumi. A frown spread on his face. “What happened?” he asked as his thumbs wiped your tears from your cheeks. You showed him the video, still sobbing, “Look at the seal... It’s so c-cute. I just... got emotional because it really t-traveled the world. This cutie deserves the whole world...”

“And so do you,” he bluntly stated, “now take the ibuprofen I brought you for the cramps and rest up.” As a matter of fact, he not only brought you painkillers but a hot water bottle and food as well.

Nanami Kento

“No, give me that. Lay down and rest. I can dust off the shelves on my own,” his deep voice commanded. If there was a man that screamed “male wife” it was definitely Nanami Kento, particularly when it came to you being on your period. You weren’t allowed to do anything in the house, except for very light chores. With good reason. “Kento, I can do–” Yeah, no, it wasn’t possible and Kento knew it too well.

You weren’t lucky when it came to period symptoms. Besides excruciating back pain, extremely sore breasts and headaches, you also had the luck to suffer from dizziness every single time you experienced the monthly nuisance. The first time you even passed out. In fact, it had happened several times. And that was precisely how Kento decided to not let you do anything. Still, you felt bad to leave everything to Kento. His work already demanded so much from him and here you were, being babied and even spoon-fed. You didn’t even have to cook your own meals or wash and iron laundry.

You had barely said those words when the unwelcome whirling sensation took you over again. Your feet wobbled, you were in danger of crashing to the ground. In a flash, Kento was by your side to steady you. “I told you not to overdo it.” He cupped your cheek with his warm hand. “Sorry, Kento. I’ll... just rest for a minute.”

Zenin Naoya

Period pain? Laughable. Naoya thought it was pathetic. A woman – these already weak creatures – having period symptoms was a mystery to him. What could possibly hurt about bleeding a little? He couldn’t understand. Your pitiable and sorry state was only another inconvenience to him. Not that you hindered him in any way – you were obedient enough to be quiet and complain as little as possible – but he absolutely despised seeing that annoying expression of pain on your face every time he had to look at it.

Hell, he didn’t even want to engage in sexual activities with you during that time, even though he had randomly picked up somewhere that it might help. Not that he wanted to help you, it was your problem and yours only, not his. “Stop looking at me with those eyes. It’s disgusting,” he remarked condescendingly as he got dressed for wherever he had to go. “When will you be back?” you croaked out but he totally ignored you.

“Women are so damn weak. It’s so fucking pathetic, I almost want to give you a hug,” Naoya gagged. He was about to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of your face that was contorted with pain. In long strides, he made it to one of the cabinets, fished out a tiny box and threw it on the bed. “Tsk, you better get well soon so you can serve me again, dumb bitch.”

Fushiguro Toji (soft)

Work hadn’t been treating him kindly: not yesterday, not today, not ever. Although he was highly capable and never failed to exceed himself, all Toji truly wanted to do was to go home. When he finally made it through the door, he called out, “Am home.” Usually, you would come running to greet him but when nothing but silence greeted him, his hand instantly moved to the cursed creature lingering on his shoulder. It was suspicious. Did enemies manage to find this hideout? Where were you? His hands started sweating.

Stealthily, he approached the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw your form in front of the counter, hunched over in pain. Dropping his offensive stance immediately, he quickly strode over to check on you. “Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked, hesitatingly putting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, grimacing with pain, “Oh, Toji. I didn’t realize you were home yet. Sorry, I’m not done cooking dinner yet, I just feel so nauseous, exhausted and my entire back  and shoulders hurt so much. It’s so sore.” “I see.” He nodded, understanding what was happening. Suddenly, he lifted you effortlessly. You squealed, “Toji!! What are you doing?!” “Taking care of you,” he promised. “But dinner!” “Don’t care.”

Making his way to the bedroom, Toji laid down with you on top of him. Something about his warmth already made you feel better but as his large palms rubbed your back in circular motions, you felt as if you were in heaven. Toji’s ministrations soothed the pain so well, you almost let out a moan. Now that the pain didn’t overshadow all the other symptoms anymore, the drowsiness took over. “Toji, ‘m tired,” you mumbled; eyelids fluttering already. “Then sleep. I’ll take care of dinner later,” he whispered. You only hummed in response, already far too gone. Slowly but surely, his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Taglist: @megumifushi​ @gojos-mochi​ @assbuttbaek​ @bleueluna​ 

[shotorozu]

Hello, how are you today? Remember to drink water if you haven’t already! 💛

if you are okay with it and feel comfortable writing it. (also no rush at all, I get it’s exams week and stuff) but could I request some fluff head cannons with Hitoshi Shinso and Shoto Todoroki (separately) with an s/o who is sick with like a stomach virus or food poisoning. Them maybe comforting the s/o or something? Idk, you do whatever you feel best.

I’m sick right now and currently feel like trash so some fluff would be nice. Also, just love your writing!! 💞 hope you have a good day/night

their s/o contracted a stomach virus

character(s) : todoroki shouto, shinsou hitoshi (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] gender neutral, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, comfort (x reader)

note(s) : ahh i know what that feels like and thats why i avoid eating out alot, since my stomach starts aching really quickly, even if i JUST ate :( anyways, thank you for waiting! the last week of school was really busy for me today, i spent the entire day filming my project 💀 also, theres not that many nuances here, so i hope that’s okay

➽───────────────❥

todoroki shouto

i can’t really say that shouto would know what to do at first, since shouto almost never gets sick

maybe a few times during his childhood, and during that ONE occasion when he was 12, he tried making soba— when he didn’t know how to

besides the point, man stays healthy; in topic condition. it’s important, if you’re training to be a hero.

so, when he finds out that you contracted a stomach virus / food poisoning, he doesn’t exactly know what to do

sure yeah, he could visit you for emotional support— but he wants to help you feel better.

it wasn’t like period cramps (if you get those)— he has heard that heat can help you cope with those, and he could always help with his left side

in actuality, food poisoning / stomach viruses are nowhere near that💀

you were nauseous, practically camping in the bathroom— since whenever you’d try to get up, and do your tasks for the day

you’d feel a sense of dread in your stomach, and you’d bolt back to the bathroom.

really, shouto hates seeing you like that, looking like death knocked on your window that very morning— skin burning to the touch, even though you felt cold

so, what does shouto do? he goes to fuyumi— since she has helped natsuo get over a case of food poisoning on two separate occasions.

she, luckily has all the remedies available, but still recommends that he should take you to a doctor, if you don’t feel any better.

he returns with water, and an electrolyte solution— and helps you take them, even going far as to fetching a straw for you

holds your hair back when you need to puke, if you have short hair— he’ll make sure to remove everything that’s obstructing your way

carries you back to bed, since you can’t walk without being nauseous. but, if you want to stay in the bathroom, he doesn’t mind

he’ll just bring pillows and blankets to the bathroom. an easy fix!

the class notices that shouto’s been in and out throughout the entire day, and they secretly wonder if he’s a part time nurse 💀

shouto disagrees, saying he’s just caring for his sick s/o, and wishes everything for them to be well again (which makes all of them aww)

bonus : bakugou throws a specific broth recipe at shouto, when shouto came to him for a recipe (since you were feeling a bit better, thanks to him)

the blond stating that “if you’re gonna give them broth, make sure you don’t fucking food poison them again. i won’t be responsible if that idiot doesn’t come to school for a month.”

shinsou hitoshi

frowns when he sees that you’re not present at homeroom— let alone when you don’t give him a heads up on your absence.

he doesn’t think too much of it at first, thinking that he’d just visit you during lunch

oh, and speaking of lunch— there was a sudden wave of UA students that contracted food poisoning / stomach viruses, after a substitute cook cooked for yesterday’s lunch

and because of that thought, it suddenly dawned onto him that you might be sick too

when the second period ends, hitoshi excuses himself to the bathroom, and RUNS to the dorms— absolutely worried for you

when he goes to your dorm, his suspicions were proven to be correct.

looking ill is an understatement, you’re half dressed in your uniform, and completely passed out on the floor— skin slick with sweat

“Y/N?” he calls out, absolutely concerned — which is given, considering your state at the moment

“are you sick? what happened?” he nudges you awake, not exactly sure of the severity of your state.

and when you’re awoken from your sleep, you bolt to the bathroom— falling onto the bathroom floor as you throw up

hitoshi stands near the door way, slightly wincing at your gagging— his heart clenches at the sight of your pain

hitoshi, finally deciding to do something, approaches you “it’s okay,” he comforts, his gentle hands brush against your back

and it feels like a while before it finally stops, and he grabs some tissues when you flush the toilet

“on a scale of 1-10, how sick do you feel?”

“12.”

alarmed by your answer, he momentarily leaves to fetch you some water— going as fast as he could

he comes back, and helps you drink water— and he figures that he should help you get into something more comfortable

of course, his thought process is cut off when you start feeling nauseous again— and the idea of brainwashing the pain away comes into his mind

but of course, it doesn’t work that way. because the sickness would come back if he switched off his quirk

after helping you into comfier clothes, this is when he decides to get recovery girl (who has been busy, considering the wave of sick students that were ill)

who, luckily— managed to make some time for you, which he will be grateful for.

will wipe the remains of your throw up off your mouth, the idea of it being gross doesn’t bother him in the slightest

and he’ll clean your mess if you accidentally get some on the floor— yeah. man doesn’t care at all

though he can’t brainwash the pain away, he will brainwash you to sleep, or take the electrolytes prescribed to you if you hate the taste

hitoshi didn’t care that he had aizawa questioning his whereabouts during the second period, since he was doing everything to make you feel better

and he most definitely didn’t mind babying you so,, he’s less than peeved

when you do feel better, he will tease you about how you were relying on him the entire time.

but the insomniac here would do it again in a heartbeat <3

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.  

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

[miracleonice87]

Secret

a Mathew Barzal one shot

a/n: and here it is! the recent news-inspired secret baby fic. Huge thanks to all who reached out and encouraged me to write it and to those who gave me ideas and advice. completely fictitious timeline and hockey-related events here, and we’re pretending the pandemic is not a thing in this one.

summary: Mat Barzal and his longtime girlfriend welcome their first baby after keeping her pregnancy well-hidden from the public eye.

warnings: morning sickness and childbirth (nothing graphic or detailed). dad Barzy, which deserves a warning. swearing. super fluff.

_____

Never in your life did you imagine that you would be attempting to conceal your first pregnancy — or any pregnancy — from members of the media.

Then again, you never could have predicted that you would end up being the long-term girlfriend of one of the most recognizable figures in the National Hockey League, and, more specifically, on the New York City sports scene. But if there’s one thing you had learned over the course of your more than four-year relationship, it was that life is full of the unexpected.

Currently, that aforementioned figure was whipping his car as quickly as possible into a private parking area at New York Presbyterian, glancing at you every ten seconds as you breathed through the early stages of labor with your firstborn baby, your water having broken just as you and Mat were settling in for sleep around midnight.

Only a small, select group of people knew that you and Mat were expecting, and as you checked in to the maternity ward just before one o’clock in the morning, you were grateful that there were very few people around you. You were hurried to your private room, Mat faithfully carrying your bags and nearly stepping on the heels of the poor nurse pushing your wheelchair, refusing to let you out of his sight for even a second.

Only once you were settled into bed, changed into a most unflattering hospital gown, hooked up to several monitors, and examined, did you allow yourself to look up at Mat and announce your practically inevitable victory.

“As long as that nurse doesn’t moonlight as a reporter, I think we did it,” you ventured with an incredulous chuckle. Mat shook his head in disbelief as he stood next to your bed, holding one of your hands in both of his.

“Don’t wanna speak too soon, but yeah, I think we did,” he agreed. “I can’t believe we managed to keep this a secret.”

_____

Six weeks

It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d ever had your head hanging above a toilet bowl on New Year’s Day.

But it sure as hell was the first time it had ever happened when you had no hangover to speak of.

In fact, you’d only had two sips of champagne the previous night before you felt weirdly dizzy and passed out in bed watching the Isles battle the Bruins.

The next thing you knew, you were being gently roused from deep sleep by your boyfriend, whose brow was creased with concern as he leaned over you.

“Sweetheart?” Mat spoke softly when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smoothing your hair against your heavy head. “You okay?”

You inhaled deeply, feeling completely off. “Yeah... yeah,” you insisted softly. “What time is it?” you asked, discombobulated.

“It’s almost midnight,” Mat answered. “How long have you been sleeping?”

You slowly pushed yourself up on your elbows in bed. “Uh... I don’t know,” you admitted. “I watched the first period... I think.”

That wasn’t like you, and Mat knew it. A lifelong hockey fan, you kept close tabs on not only Mat and the Islanders, but the scores from around the entire league each night. Coming from a hockey-loving family, watching highlights on NHL Network was your late night routine. On top of that, you looked flushed to him, and dark circles hung around your eyes, a rarity for you except when you were ill.

“Baby... are you sick?” Mat shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed and quickly taking a seat next to you on the edge of the mattress. He put the back of his hand to your forehead and studied you carefully. “You don’t feel fevered.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a cold,” you replied, remembering the strange feeling that had overcome you when you sipped your champagne earlier. “I do feel kinda dizzy... nauseous.”

Mat nodded, eyes still full of worry. “Maybe you’re getting the flu,” he suggested. “That’s been going around lately.” You nodded too, yawning.

“Well, listen,” Mat continued, motioning for you to lie back as he pulled the covers over you again. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow if you still aren’t feeling well, I’ll run to the pharmacy and get you some medicine and stuff. Okay?”

You nodded again, overcome once more by exhaustion as you settled back into your bed. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thanks, babe. Hey, did you win?”

Mat smiled. “Yeah, baby, we won. Now get some rest. I love you, sweet girl,” he said, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

“I love you, Maty,” you breathed. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip slowly as you immediately drifted back to sleep.

And now here you were, seven hours later, heaving into the toilet as Mat dropped to his knees behind you on the tile, gathering your long hair into his hands as quickly as possible.

“Oh, honey,” he groaned, rubbing your back. “You poor thing.”

After flushing the toilet several times to get rid of the contents, you finally sat upright, cautiously, slowly.

“God, I feel like shit,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your forehead as Mat ran his hands back and forth down your legs, trying to soothe you.

“I can tell,” he said sadly, standing. You looked up at him helplessly as he said, “I’m gonna go get you flu meds from the pharmacy. Let me just get dressed.”

You nodded once, feeling too lightheaded to move your head any more than that. You didn’t budge from your place on the floor as Mat took his robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders, kissing the crown of your head before exiting the bathroom. You heard him shuffling around in his drawers as you closed your eyes, willing the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to cease.

Moments later, Mat called out to you from the bedroom.

“Do you need anything else from the drugstore while I’m there, baby?”

You opened your eyes to glance around the bathroom, trying to keep your head as still as possible. You saw toothpaste, Tylenol, and... did you have enough tampons?

You reached next to you to open the drawer that held your monthly supplies, and you were surprised to find two boxes of tampons, not even opened, along with a plethora of pads and liners.

Finally, it hit you like a crashing wave. Suddenly, your world started spinning, and it wasn’t because of the nausea.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, slamming the drawer shut.

“Maty...” you called out hoarsely, causing him to rush back toward the bathroom. Your heart was racing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously as he appeared in the doorway, ready to take up residence on the floor with you again if necessary.

You bit your bottom lip and inhaled a shaky breath before answering, sounding much more calm than you felt.

“I need you to buy me a test,” you said matter-of-factly.

At first, Mat wore a blank expression. “What kinda te— wait…” he said as you watched the wheels turning in his head. You couldn’t help but allow a small smile to spread across your lips as the realization hit him, too. He froze, mouth slightly agape, wide eyes searching yours to try and determine whether you were serious. Reading him, you nodded, which caused his eyes to widen even further.

“A pregnancy test,” you confirmed in a shaky voice.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered familiarly, his own smile beginning to play on his lips.

_____

“That was Liana,” Mat said, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his sweats after ending the brief call. “She’s catching a flight in the morning.”

You nodded gratefully as Mat returned to your side, dutifully grabbing your hand and running his other over your rounded stomach.

“She said to tell you she loves you, and baby, too,” he added with a warm grin. “And that she—“

Mat stopped short the second he heard you groan softly, the smile you’d worn upon hearing Liana’s name having morphed quickly into a wince.

“Another contraction?” Mat asked, hastily pulling the stool by the bed closer and taking a seat.

“Mhm,” you confirmed tightly, rolling on your side to look into his eyes, seeking a diversion. The pain in your face absolutely shattered Mat’s heart. He despised how helpless he felt watching you.

“Just look at me. Breathe, baby,” Mat coached before breathing in and out just as your Lamaze instructor had taught you both, nodding his head to urge you to mimic him. You did your best, squeezing his big hand hard enough that Mat saw his fingertips turning white, though he was too smart and too concerned with your labor pains to point that out.

“Good girl. Breathe, sweetheart. Good girl,” Mat encouraged. “That’s my girl,” he added softly, lightly dragging his fingernails along your scalp, combing his hand through your hair, in an attempt to comfort you.

“I seriously hate you right now,” you spat between pants and gasps. “You did this to me.”

Though he tried to hold back, a breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nose. “Yeah, my mom warned me you might say that,” he told you. “I’d hate me right now, too,” he added, running his fingers along your forearm lightly as you grimaced in agony.

Finally, your muscles relaxed as the contraction passed. Your face softened and your eyes fluttered open to see Mat staring at you intently, concern etched into his gorgeous features. You reached out your hand to run a thumb over his strong jaw.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, giving him your best smile as you caught your breath.

Mat nodded. “I just hate seeing you hurting,” he whispered back. You gave him an understanding look and then grinned brightly.

“But it’s gonna be worth it,” you assured, making Mat’s eyes light up. He kissed your palm and you asked, “Now what else did Liana say? Distract me.”

With a smile, Mat said, “That she can’t wait to meet this little one.” He leaned his head forward to kiss your belly sweetly as you smiled softly, leaning back against the mattress to rest up momentarily before the next wave, as the memory of telling Liana the news months ago came to mind.

_____

Twelve weeks

Your phone buzzed on the dining room table, vibrating against the glass top. Normally, you would never answer a call during a Valentine’s Day dinner with Mat, even at home, but these particular circumstances allowed for an exception.

“It’s Liana,” you smirked, swiping to answer the FaceTime call as Mat muttered, “Nice of her to call you and not her own brother.”

You ignored his complaint and smiled at the woman who was basically your sister-in-law.

“Hi, Li,” you said happily. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Liana didn’t even let you finish your greeting before she asked hurriedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

Mat leaned closer into you in order to be included in the camera’s view. “That’s rude,” he chirped, trying to sound angry, but being betrayed by the smirk twitching at his pink lips.

“No, seriously, you guys,” Liana continued, sounding anxious. “What does this mean?” She lifted the card from the full bouquet of blush pink roses before her. “‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Li,’” she read. “‘We’re so excited to give you another member of the family to love this August.’  And it’s signed from you guys and ‘Baby B...’”

Liana’s eyes flicked back up to your own and she couldn’t stand still, pacing her kitchen. “It’s not funny to joke about this,” she insisted, sounding confused and slightly offended.

“It isn’t a joke, dude,” Mat giggled. “We’re having a baby.”

Liana started screaming after “having.”

Laughter racked your body as you watched her jump up and down, tears streaming down her face as she squealed and asked a dozen times whether you were serious. You nodded each time until her hysteria finally subsided.

“Do Mom and Dad know?” Liana asked with a quaking voice, wiping the dampness from her cheeks.

“Yeah, they know,” you confirmed, swiping at a couple of your own fallen tears. Damn hormones.

“But listen, Liana,” Mat interjected, putting on his most serious tone. “They know, and her family knows, but past that, we haven’t told a soul. We honestly might not tell anyone else, depending on how soon she starts to show. We don’t want crazy fans or, God forbid, the media to get ahold of it and just be intrusive. We’ve seen how that goes. We just want this to be as private as possible. So you can’t post anything, can’t tell any of your friends. Okay?”

Liana nodded, sniffling throughout her brother’s command. “Yeah, totally,” she immediately concurred. “I get it. I think you guys are smart for doing it this way. This is like Kylie Jenner shit.”

You and Mat both snickered at that comparison for multiple reasons, then Liana began truly processing the news.

“Wait... so,” she began. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you replied. “So barring anything out of the ordinary, that kind of means we’re in the clear, risk-wise.”

“And you’re okay? Everything is okay?” Liana asked nervously.

Mat nodded, appreciating his little sister’s obvious concern for you and the baby. “She’s okay, Liana,” he assured as you smiled at him. “She’s perfect,” he added, picking up your hand to press a kiss to your fingers, causing Liana to tear up once again.

“You better take such good fucking care of her, Mat. You hear me? She doesn’t have her mom or any of us nearby, so she needs you,” Liana said firmly to her brother. You warmed at her display of womanly solidarity, ever thankful to have an ally in her.

Mat rolled his eyes. “Yes, Liana, I’ve been taking care of her for years,” he said, unamused.

“Yeah, well, it’s different now,” Liana pointed out. “Now she’s carrying my niece or nephew!”

You and Mat grinned at each other once more, Mat rubbing his hand slowly across your lower belly, which was mostly still flat, save for a slight, bloated curve.

“Yeah, she is,” Mat said airily, gazing into your blue eyes deeply as his sister resumed her squealing in the background.

_____

“Can I please have more ice chips?” you asked as you came down from yet another contraction, sounding whinier than you meant to and slightly hating yourself for it.

Mat smiled warmly down at you, pushing some of your hair back from your forehead and tenderly placing a kiss to your temple.

“Yes. You get all the ice chips you want, sweet girl,” Mat cooed, nuzzling his nose in your hair before stepping back and winking at you, grabbing the ice bucket from the bedside table. If there was one thing you had enjoyed most about the experience of pregnancy and labor, it was the way Mat spoiled you, ever attentive to your needs and wants. “I’ll be right back. Don’t have that baby while I’m gone,” he instructed, pointing at you.

Despite the discomfort you felt, you still breathed a laugh and rolled your eyes at him, Mat positively beaming at you as he walked backwards out of your suite, then turned down the hall.

As you rested your hands against your belly and your head back on the pillow, spotting the big bouquet of flowers Tito had sent for you, another memory from the past several months flashed in your mind.

_____

Twenty weeks

“I’m sorry,” Tito choked out once he stopped coughing on the Easter ham you’d made for a small group of the Isles boys, who had just begun playoffs and therefore weren’t traveling for the holiday, and their significant others. “You’re what?!”

You and Mat giggled, Mat squeezing your thigh under the table reassuringly. Sydney, late in her own pregnancy, jumped from her seat, tears springing to her eyes, and squealed as she ran to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders as you sat grinning at the others — Tito, Marty, Anders, Grace, Josh, and Meg — whose mouths hung open as they tried to process your announcement.

You turned back to Mat, the same broad smile seemingly permanently plastered on his handsome features the past few months stretching across his face once again.

“You wanna show them?” he asked softly, the tone in his voice telling you the decision was yours completely. You nodded, grasping the fabric of your knit sweater, the same casually chic, baggy style that you’d stocked up on to hide your growing stomach.

Sydney let go of you, allowing you to stand from your chair, as she nearly shouted, “What do you mean, show us?! How pregnant are you?!”

You bit your bottom lip, still smiling from ear to ear, and turned sideways, lifting your sweater to reveal your noticeable, ever-rounding bump beneath your high-waisted leggings.

A collective gasp sucked the oxygen from the room, Mat smirking at your friends, as you quietly admitted, “I’m twenty weeks...”

Tito pounded a fist to the table in disbelief and let out a holler. Anders raised his own fists over his head so fast that he knocked off the black baseball cap he wore. Josh and Marty couldn’t stop yelling, “No!” and “No fucking way,” respectively. Meg and Grace immediately leapt to their feet, too. “You’re halfway?!” they shouted in unison.

All Mat could do was beam proudly at you, bringing your waist close as he pressed a reverent, chaste kiss to your stomach over your sweater.

“Surprise!” you sang softly to the onlookers, your voice watery as a couple of happy tears escaped your eyes. The girls all embraced you, taking turns rubbing your belly, as the guys uttered boyish praises to Mat, joking that they didn’t know he had it in him.

Besides your and Mat’s parents and siblings, you still hadn’t told any friends of your pregnancy — making this sacred time that much more special for you and Mat.

But it was time to tell this circle. It had gotten more and more difficult and complicated to refuse drinks when the wives and girlfriends met for brunch, and even Mat was struggling to come up with excuses for why he wanted to rush home from the arena when the rest of the guys his age wanted to go to the bar to celebrate big wins. This close-knit group knowing the truth would help combat that.

You certainly didn’t plan to tell the whole team — quite frankly, there were some recently-added guys you just didn’t know well enough yet, along with some newer girlfriends who seemed a little suspect when it came to keeping team matters close to the vest. You and Mat agreed that you’d tell your close group of Isles friends and leave it at that. And that group, this group, these friends who had become much more like family — these felt like the right people to let in on the secret.

_____

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. “I don’t know if I can do it.” The pain was excruciating now, the pressure was building, and your doctor had just informed you that it was time to push. You felt like crying, but you were so paralyzed by the fear that gripped your chest that no tears were flowing.

“Hey…” Mat began softly, gently taking your face in both of his hands and angling it to look up at him, his eyes radiating confidence and pride. “Listen to me, okay? You’ve been so strong throughout this whole pregnancy. I know better than to believe that that’s gonna end now. You can do this, my love. I know you can,” he encouraged. “And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

You nodded, still feeling completely unprepared but somehow strengthened by Mat’s faith in you. As the doctor approached, gowned and gloved, she looked at you with anticipation.

“You ready, sweetie?” she asked. With one last look up at Mat, who nodded and kissed your knuckles, you turned back to her with a nod of your own. She patted your knee and said, “Okay, let’s have a baby. On the count of three, I want you to push, just the way we talked about. Daddy, you hold this knee. Ready? One… two… three… push.”

_____

Twenty-three weeks

The Isles had lost in the second round of the playoffs. Mat was obviously disappointed, but he was also more excited for this offseason than he’d ever been for a summer before, which certainly softened the blow. You were having his baby in just three more months, and he absolutely could not wait. Mat was ready to commence full dad mode — getting the nursery ready, reading the books, and most importantly, keeping a close eye on you every moment that he could.

On the same day the guys were cleaning out their lockers and giving final interviews following the end of the playoff series loss, Mat had scheduled a meeting with the coaching staff and team public relations executives to inform them of your pregnancy. He wanted them to be aware of the situation in case the news got out before the birth, especially as your baby bump was getting harder to hide. Since the two of you had decided to stay in New York for the summer instead of returning to British Columbia, to avoid travel late in your pregnancy, he knew that the chances of someone spotting your round stomach and starting to talk about it was higher on Long Island than in Coquitlam. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the news got out, but if you and Mat could help it, you’d much prefer that it didn’t. He wanted this experience to be peaceful for you and as enjoyable as possible.

The meeting had gone well, which was unsurprising. The staff was thrilled for the two of you and promised to keep a tight lid on the information until you were ready to share it publicly after the baby had been born — they also agreed to evade any questions that their office might encounter on the topic during the summer.

Mat had thanked them profusely and said his goodbyes before leaving the building, heaving his heavy equipment bags into his trunk, and heading back home to you. A few minutes later, his phone dinged with a text from you and he glanced down at it at the next stoplight. It was a photo of the two of you in front of Big Ben on a rare sunny day in England, Mat hugging you close to his chest.

“This just popped up in my memories. Four years ago today we were in London and you told me you loved me for the first time. Look at us now. 💋”

Mat grinned at the message before returning the phone to his cupholder, his mind traveling back in time to that first big vacation the two of you had taken together. He knew your affinity for English culture — the fashion, the history, and, of course, the royal family, so he decided to take you on a trip across the pond a couple of months after you started dating.

It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made, as it brought the two of you much closer in those early days of your relationship — so close, in fact, that he found himself professing his love for you over a candlelight dinner on your last night in London. You had frozen, just for a moment, before a broad smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling.

“I love you, too, Maty,” you’d said softly, allowing Mat to finally exhale as he basked in the knowledge that you felt the same way as he.

London was a landmark in your love story. Mat blinked a few times at that thought, an idea suddenly coming over him.

London…

_____

London Riley Barzal, named for the city where you fell in love and given your current last name as a middle name, was born August 15 at 8:13 p.m., after twenty hours of labor.

You and Mat had never known a love like the one you found the moment your baby girl was laid on your chest, and he had never been more fiercely in love with you than he was as he watched you snuggle her close.

“God, she’s so beautiful,” Mat breathed, voice quivering as he realized that this tiny girl belonged to him — to both of you.

“She’s perfect. Just perfect,” you agreed as her strong cries suddenly quieted into small whimpers.

Immediately, Mat looked you in the eye. “She knows your voice,” he said in astonishment.

As your baby blinked and squinted before opening her eyes for the very first time, she seemed to look directly up at her daddy. You smiled knowingly at Mat, who was frozen in place as he locked eyes with his baby daughter for the first time.

“I think she knows yours, too,” you suggested, the two of you smoothing your fingertips over her tiny face and hands in wonder.

You spent several minutes soaking it all in as a brand new family of three, both talking to London softly and placing kisses on her tiny head, before the nurse took her from your arms to take her vitals and give her a brief exam.

As you watched your healthy, gorgeous baby being fawned over by the medical team, you breathed a deep sigh of relief and a silent prayer of gratitude before opening your eyes again to see the love of your life staring down at you in absolute amazement.

“You did so good, baby,” Mat said through tears of pure joy. He pressed his lips to your damp forehead, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You did so good. You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m so goddamn proud of you,” he praised.

“We have a baby, Maty,” you said with an awestruck, tearful chuckle. “I just had our baby.”

Mat nodded, grinning. “We have a daughter, my love,” he said. “Our little London.”

_____

One week later…

[lilfellasblog]

Tolerable

Summary: Virgil's been accepted by Thomas and the famILY, even after they found out his secret. But will this be too much for them to handle? Or: Virgil has endometriosis, thinks he has to hide it, and that works out as well for him as you think it will.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Past bullying and harassment mentioned, endometriosis, menstruation, this is a sick!fic, painful cramps, unsympathetic dark sides.

Word Count: 2351

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Virgil groaned and curled into himself. Not for the first time, he cursed the Mindscape’s sick sense of humor for not only making him the only trans Side, but also for giving him the period from hell. After researching his symptoms and checking in the Subconscious (he tried not to think about how he could see everything in there), he had discovered he had endometriosis. It certainly explained what he’d been experiencing. He didn’t even want to think about the number of tampons and pads he burned through. Alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen could only take the edge off so much. The websites he visited suggested some, ahem, all-natural pain remedies, but Virgil was the opposite of in the mood when he was on his period. He felt tired and dizzy and light-headed and nauseous, and he always seemed to get migraines at the same time of his period because apparently God hated him personally.

He ground a fist into his lower abdomen during a particularly painful cramp that felt like his internal organs were ripping each other in half, and kept it there until the pain subsided somewhat. He wasn’t sure why, but pressing his knuckles into the spot where he felt the most pain seemed to help lessen the severity of that particular wave.

Virgil sighed, trying to figure out if he wanted to ask the others for help. He was exhausted, having dealt with this for a day already on his own. They’d all accepted him, including Thomas (thank fuck), but he didn’t know if they wanted to deal with everything that came with him being a trans guy. Yet, now that they knew, even though he���s dealt with this on his own before, being alone feels even harder.

What if they’re grossed out? They weren’t grossed out by me being trans, they seemed sad whenever I had even asked, but this is… yeah. I don’t know, I don’t want to push it. Just as he finished that thought, an excruciating pain ripped through him. He bit his knuckle and held his breath to keep from crying out.

“Virgil? You okay in there buddy? You missed breakfast, so I brought some up if you want any,” Patton offered through the door.

Virgil had to breathe through his nose to battle his nausea at the thought of breakfast food. “Thanks Pat. I’m good, just not feeling too well. I’ll be fine in a bit.” It’ll be manageable in a few days.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do? Would soup help?”

Actually… “Yeah, I think I might be able to handle soup.”

“One bowl of soup, coming right up!”

“Thanks Pat.”

“Anytime!”

Despite his pain, Virgil smiled fondly. He’s too good for me. Before, if he’d shown any indication that he was on his period, the consequences would be more pain, some kind of humiliation, and a nightmare sequence courtesy of Remus that always lasted so long he’d bleed over.

Virgil rode out the waves of pain, unable to concentrate enough to follow Buzzfeed Unsolved, until Patton knocked on his door again.

“Virge? I have your soup,” Patton called quietly.

“Alri-” Virgil’s voice cut off as he was bowled over by a powerful tearing sensation that left him seeing stars.

“Virgil? You okay in there? Are you hurt?” Patton called, much more loudly this time.

Shitshitshit, I can’t let him see me, he’ll know I’m in pain and he’ll ask why and then I’ll have to tell him.

“I’m worried you’re hurt or unconscious, can you answer me?”

Virgil took a few deep breaths. “I’m here,” he croaked out.

“Oh honey, you sound like you’re in so much pain! Are you okay?!”

Since he wasn’t holding his breath, a pained keen left him against his will.

“I’m coming in.”

Fuck.

Virgil tried to uncurl his body, but he couldn’t find the willpower to counter the pain. As soon as Patton caught sight of him, he quickly set the bowl of soup (with crackers and cheese, Virgil noticed) on the nightstand and rushed over.

“It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong? You look and sound like you’re in so much pain!”

The worst of it passed, and Virgil managed to relax his body a bit. “I’m okay, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Patton’s expression darkened. “Did they hurt you again?” he asked, voice nearly a growl.

“No, nothing like that!” Virgil quickly promised. Patton sagged in relief.

“Thank goodness.” Patton frowned. “This has happened before? Do you have a stomach bug?”

Virgil thought about lying for a brief moment, but was too scared of accidentally summoning Janus to risk it. “No…”

He cursed when Patton’s puppy dog eyes came in full-force. “Is it something bad?”

Just as Virgil was about to hedge around the answer, he felt a telltale dampness. “Uh, nothing dangerous for us since we’re Sides, but I do need to go to the bathroom.”

Patton immediately scooted aside. “Okay! I’ll be here when you get back,” he reassured.

Shit. “Thanks.”

Virgil uncurled himself from his position on the bed, then carefully made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up since he had bled over a bit, changed out his pad and tampon. Just as he was about to flush away the bloody water and toilet paper, there was urgent knocking at the door.

“Virgil, are you okay?!”

Virgil was a little annoyed, but knew to rein himself in. “Yeah Pat, I’m good, just about to wash my hands.”

“Sweetie, are you sure? There’s blood on the bed.”

OH FUCK.

“Um, I’ll be out a in a minute.”

Think think think think THINK!! Okay, what can I tell him? I could just fudge the truth a little bit, but that might be too close to a lie. I could just tell him I don’t want to tell him, but he’d be so sad that I don’t trust him and he deserves better than that. Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Realizing he’d been staring into space, he dried his hands, then went out to face the music.

Patton was studying the comforter that had gotten stained, and looked up and smiled at Virgil as he emerged. “Hey Virge, I was just gonna wash this for you, is that okay?”

Virgil could feel another wave coming on. “Yeah, but you don’t have to.” Let me lie down so I don’t double over in front of you.

Patton waved him off. “Nonsense, you’re sick and I wanna help!”

SHIT. “Okay, I can help get it off.”

“Sure!”

Virgil frantically tugged at the comforter, while Patton calmly gathered it up in his arms. As soon as the comforter was off the bed, Virgil laid down and curled up, hopefully in a way that made it look like he was just lying down.

“Virgil, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer!”

Virgil assessed Patton. Patton was looking nervous himself, biting his lip and eyes averting themselves.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Patton took a deep breath. “Well, I know you’re in a lot of pain, you’re not feeling well, you said it’s happened before, and there’s blood that you don’t seem too worried about.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help with… this?”

Virgil sighed. Of course he’d figure it out. “Honestly, the soup is more than what I usually get-”

“What?!” Patton cried.

Oops.

“Um, usually I just kinda deal with it on my own?”

Virgil kicked himself for the devastated look on Patton’s face. “Oh Virge…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind dealing with it by myself!”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to! And you don’t have to anymore!” Patton declared. “You’re in so much pain, is that normal? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Normal for me, yeah, and I don’t think so.”

“Normal for you? Why just you, are you in more pain than other people who get periods?”

Way to put it on the nose Patton. “I-”

“What’s this regarding?” Logan asked as he walked in.

Patton didn’t close the door, shit!! “Nothing!”

“Patton seemed to be implying that you’re in a great deal of pain-”

“WHO DARES HARM YOU?!” Roman thundered, sword already drawn.

GODAMMIT. “NO ONE. Okay, Jesus Christ. Look, I’m fine, I’ve just got the period from hell. I’m sorry you guys found out, I didn’t mean to, I’m fine dealing with this on my own, I know it’s weird and-” Virgil cut himself off at the sorrowful looks he was getting. He sighed. These guys aren’t the Dark Sides, they probably don’t think it’s weird and gross and something I’m doing to them on purpose. “Sorry. Just, I have this thing that makes this harder, I can’t think of the name because I can’t think during this, and I’m fine. I’m just miserable for a week and then it’s manageable. This is better treatment than I usually get, and now I can at least get food. Just ignore me.” Virgil cursed God as another devastating cramp chose that specific moment to be an asshole. He held his breath, but couldn’t stop from curling in on himself. Concerned Patton noises could be heard, and Logan was trying to encourage Virgil to breathe. Roman just stood there, feeling helpless.

Once it passed, Virgil unclenched and took a few breaths. “Sorry,” he panted.

“Please do not apologize. Average menstrual cramps-” Virgil winced. “-have been shown to be at a similar pain level as a heart attack, and it sounds like you experience more severe cramping. If you wish to be left alone, then we will respect that,” Logan stated, agreements coming from each of the other Sides. “But there is still the concern of unusual pain. Do you require pain medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it helps me not lose my mind, but it can only do so much. I’m on the max dose for ibuprofen and tylenol right now, and I’m alternating them.”

Logan frowned. “This is your pain level even with medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it’s this thing that starts with an “e”… shit, what is it…”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Endometriosis?”

“Yeah!” Virgil squinted. “How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m Thomas’ center of knowledge. Gracious, Virgil…” Logan trailed off. “Has a TENS unit ever proven helpful?”

“A what?”

Logan straightened up. “A TENS unit administers small electrical pulses to pain points or trigger points via electrodes placed on the skin. Research, as well as personal anecdotes, have shown them to be effective in combating menstrual pain. Would you like me to conjure one for you?”

Whatever, worst thing that might happen is it could hurt worse for a few seconds. “Sure, why not.”

Logan closed his eyes, and a few seconds later a rectangular device with a bunch of wires coming out of it appeared. “Would you like me to apply the electrodes, or would you like to?”

The thought of someone touching his bare skin, especially where he was in so much pain, still scared him, even though he knew these weren’t the Dark Sides. “I can put it on.”

No one said anything as Virgil rolled over to his side and placed the electrodes where Logan instructed. He turned back over, blushing slightly and feeling weird. He could feel another bad one coming on, and he hoped that this would work. Logan handed Virgil the unit.

“There are a few levels of electricity. Since this is your first time, it’s recommended you start at 1 and see if you need to increase from there.”

Before the next bastard cramp could come to do its damage, Virgil just nodded and turned on the device, bracing himself for electrocution pain. Instead, the cramps was… not as bad? It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t as godawful as it could be. He cranked it up a few more dials, and the pain dimmed to a level he couldn’t remember ever feeling.

His eyes widened as he uncurled and sat up, jaw slack. The pain was still there, and he could still tell that his muscles were freaking the fuck out, but the pain was down so much he could almost ignore it.

So Logan just made my life about a thousand times better. How do I let him know?

“What kind of bullshit wizard magic is this?” Nice, REAL kind of you to say after Logan literally changed your life.

Logan just did his proud little smirk of his and drew his shoulders back. “No magic involved, merely science, and,” he adjusted one side of his glasses. “logic.”

Virgil sighed, still light-headed and dizzy, but the amount of relief that flooded his body without the pain was helping him feel so much better.

Logan frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, Thomas requires my help with a business e-mail.”

Virgil looked out through Thomas’ eyes and Sanders what the HELL. “Yeah, you’d better go deal with that.”

Patton waved his hand over the bowl of soup to warm it. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Virgil fidgeted. “Not to be a stereotype, but I’m currently willing to commit homicide for chocolate.”

In the next moment, Virgil found his lap full of his favorite dark chocolate-sea salt-almond bars.

“I should probably go too, make sure Thomathy gets the tone of the e-mail right,” Patton said regretfully.

Virgil waved him off. “No worries, go do your thing.”

“I’ll keep our brave knight company!” Roman declared.

Patton said goodbye and sank out. Roman and Virgil stared at each other.

Roman broke first. “Soooo, friendo…”

Virgil sighed, putting Roman out of his misery. “I don’t usually feel like being a people, but this TENS unit thing is really helping. I’d be down to play some video games after lunch.”

“Sounds wonderful! I’ll get the game set up!” Roman sank out with his usual flair.

Virgil snorted and shook his head. Thank god for TENS units.

He flushed as he thought to himself, Thank god for famILY.

[plaidbooks]

Could you do an imagine of having a fling with Carisi and getting pregnant?

Fling

A/N: Hey Anon! Heck yes I can do that! Remember peeps, if you’re gonna  have a ONS, be safe about it! Hope you enjoy

Tags: alcohol and bad decisions, mentions of smut, mentions of vomiting

Words: 1726

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It had been…a long day. You were the owner of a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, and three employees had up and quit on you. You had scrambled to find replacements, and while the new kids were working out well, they were still new, and needed a lot of handholding. So, on Saturday night, with the shop closed on Sundays, you went to the bar, hoping to just drink until you could forget about your worries for a little bit. What you weren’t expecting was for the ridiculously cute man, his suit jacket over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up, to buy you a drink. You were already pretty drunk, your inhibitions low, so you chatted with the stranger, who also seemed pretty far gone.

“Why don’t we take this party back to my place?” you eventually asked, and he agreed, a lopsided smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

In the back of the cab, you had drunkenly kissed him, and he kissed you back, both of you exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. Pulling up at your place, you dragged him inside. Once the door was closed, he had pushed you up against the wall, his mouth biting and sucking at your neck. You grabbed at his gelled hair, pulling soft groans from him as he marked you. You both eventually made it to the bedroom, naked, and you pulled him on top of you as you collapsed onto the bed.

“Fuck me—give me all you got,” you purred at him, and he growled, shoving himself into you roughly. You moaned as he thrusted into you hard and deep. When you came, clenching around him, he was right behind you, spilling his release deep within you. You passed out soon after that, his arms draped over you.

 *******************

When you awoke, the man was already gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, except the marks on your neck and a small, handwritten note on your bedside table.

Last night was incredible. Sorry I left so quickly—I had work. Maybe we can do dinner sometime? – Sonny

He had written his number after his name, and while the sex—from what you remembered—was great, you really didn’t want a relationship right now. It was just a fling, a one-night stand. So, you crumpled up his note and threw it away before getting in the shower.

 ******************

The new employees were finally settling in, and life was getting back to normal. Though, you were still stressed with everything going on—it was the summer months, which meant tourists, which meant business. And while you were grateful for the profits you were bringing in, you really needed to hire on some extra help. You vaguely noticed that your period was late, but that was probably from the stress—it had happened before. Besides, you didn’t remember when you had it last month, so you weren’t positive how late you were, really.

You decided to sleep early that night—you had so many interviews the next day. So, setting an alarm for 6am, you went to bed, hoping for a full night’s sleep. But you tossed and turned all night, your stomach killing you. At 3am, you got up, sprinting to your bathroom, barely making it before you puked your guts out. Oh God, you could not afford to be sick at a time like this. You couldn’t sleep after that, still feeling nauseous, and vomiting once more after eating a light breakfast. Groaning in pain, you sent a mass message to all your potential employees, asking for them to please reschedule, and then you called your doctor.

“When was the last time you had your period?” she had asked, running an ultrasound.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, last month? I’ve been…too busy. I honestly don’t remember….”

She put the machine down, letting the nurse start disinfecting it. She gave you a small smile. “Well, you’re pregnant.”

“I-what? But…but I haven’t had…” you trailed off, remembering the drunken night in the bar, the man you had taken home. You didn’t even remember his name, let alone the phone number he had scrawled underneath his message. And that was weeks ago! That paper was long gone.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “You’re about six weeks along. Come back to the examination room; I’ll give you pamphlets, answer any questions you have.” You nodded, hopping of the ultrasound table, being extra careful now—you had life inside you!

 ****************

The doctor had talked for you for upwards of an hour; you wanted to keep the baby, that was definite. But how would you make time for it? Pay for it? You were so conflicted, so incredibly happy yet so incredibly stressed, lost. You had family you could talk to, and you were sure they’d help you, too. But you were going to be a single mother. You struggled to remember the man’s name; it was something light and fun. Benny? Sammy? That wasn’t right. You didn’t even know what he did for a living; hell, you vaguely remembered what he looked like. Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes.

And besides, what was the point of finding him? Did you think he’d want to be apart of this? Or would he laugh in your face and run, determined to not have to pay child support? Giving up on the idea, you decided to just do this on your own—outside help from family and nurses, of course.

 ***************

Six months later, you were well into your pregnancy, your belly swelling in front of you. Jury summons clutched in your hand, you waddled your way into the courthouse. You couldn’t be a juror at this time, but when you had tried to call the number on the paper, it kept saying disconnected. So now, here you were, pissed and exhausted, making your way to whoever could postpone your summons until after you gave birth.

“Here, lemme get that door for you,” a man’s voice said. He rushed in front of you, holding the door open and you froze, staring at him. He furrowed his brow at you, scanning your face in confusion—not because you had stopped moving, but because there was the faintest hint of recognition. “Have we, uh, have we met before?” he asked.

Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes. He was obviously a lawyer, coming to work. But how were you going to bring this up to him? “Ah, no, sorry sir. Thank you for the door,” you muttered, shuffling past him.

He watched you walk by him, then fell into step next to you, easily keeping pace with his long legs. “Are you sure? You look so familiar….”

“Positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find where I can postpone my jury summons,” you replied, your voice flat.

He stopped in his tracks, letting you walk away, and you let out a sigh. But you didn’t make it far before he shouted, “wait!” He jogged after you, catching up quickly. He grabbed your elbow, leading you away from the crowded hall. He dropped his voice. “Did we…meet at a bar? This would’ve been months ago—I understand if you’ve forgotten me.”

He really didn’t get it, did he? “Yes, we did.”

The man nodded, his forehead crinkled as he thought. “I’m not gonna lie; I was a little sad when you didn’t call,” he joked. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing well, and that you found someone.”

His smile was so genuine, so sincere…he really didn’t get it! He figured you didn’t like him, that you had found someone else, settled down. “Uh, thanks. I’m still painfully single though,” you replied, forcing a smile.

You turned to walk away, leaving him stunned. Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the window you needed, negotiating a new date in another six months for your jury duty. Having that taken care of, you made your way out of the bowels of the courthouse. You had almost made it to the front doors when the man from the bar had tracked you down once more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I-I have to know….” His voice dropped to a whisper, “is it…mine?” His bright blue eyes flickered to your belly, then back to your face.

You could’ve said no, denied it and spared him. But something must have shown on your face, because his eyes filled with such sadness, such regret.  So, you had no choice but to say, “yes, it’s yours.”

He took a shuttering breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I…I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve used a condom.” He ran a hand through his hair, tears really springing up in his eyes now. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“Look,” you said, trying to stop his self-hating streak. “It takes two to make a baby, okay? I’m…just as irresponsible as you.” That made him let out a soft sob, and you switched to trying to make him feel better. “I’m not due for another two-ish months; why don’t we…I don’t know, get dinner one night? I mean…if you want—”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I…I want to be in my baby’s life, no matter what happens between you and I. Please.”

He was desperate, and it was hard to say no. But you also needed to know him first. “Okay. Let’s start slow, get to know each other. We can figure out everything else later.”

He nodded. “Why—why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused, wondering why you would choose to keep this from him, to do this on your own.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I, uh, threw out your note and I’ve…forgotten your name. I had no way to find you. And besides, I was…afraid you’d be upset about it, afraid you’d ask me to t-terminate—”

His eyes went wide, “no, I would never!” He took a deep, shuttering breath. “Let’s…let’s start over.” He held his hand out to you. “My name is Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

Smiling, you took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Sonny. Now, if you don’t mind, my feet are killing me, and I need to sit before my legs collapse.”

[tchallasbabymama]

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

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

[peachyproserpina]

Oops pt. 1

Here is another Jason fic for the amazing light of my life @glassbxttless. I am splitting it into 2 parts because my worms are dead and I wanna see how you like this first part.

Part 2 here!

Jason x Fem!Reader

TW: mentions of smut, mentions of sickness / throwing up, pregnancy, swearing.

If I miss a tag let me know and I will add it!

Your chest is heaving, Jason is peppering kisses all over your neck and you giggle, tucking his sweaty hair behind his ear. You try to wiggle out from underneath him but he drops his whole weight onto you, letting out a gasping laugh and try to push him up, you can feel his softening cock twitch while you squeeze around him with your chuckles.

“No, stay here.” It’s mumbled into your neck and you roll your eyes, and run your nails down his scalp, eyeing the way he jerks his hips as you do. You relax fully, giving up then and he rolls off you with his crooked shit eating grin.

“You’re needy Jas.” You curl up right under his arm as you can feel his cum leak out of you, a sticky problem for both of you in the morning.

“And you’re bratty when you’re tired, even after being fucked dumb.” He yelps when you pinch his nipple for the comment, not denying it. You have been a bit of a brat but between work, classes, friends, even Jason was having to pick up more hours, you haven’t seen him and you’ve been stressed the fuck out. You can only fall asleep face timing Jason so many times before you get into a mood and tie him down to the bed and call the both of you out of work just to make up for lost time. You fall asleep not too long after that, tucked up into Jason while he browses some emails from work before he passes out too.

The next 2 weeks fly by the same way, busy bodies and face timing and dirty snaps sent to each other on your lunch breaks when you weren’t home and you couldn’t torture Jason by jerking off for him to watch while at work. Summer finals are approaching and you’re not in the right headspace to notice it, you’re late for your period but you're both so busy it doesn’t even register. It’s not until you're straddling Jason one night and he grips your tits just a little too hard and you yelp. You pull back with a wince and he starts to panic.

“Did I- Are you okay?” Jason’s hands are hovering over your shoulders and you can feel his panic beat off him in waves, cradling your chest as you maneuver yourself off of his lap. You wince when you glide your fingers over your nipples, they’ve never been this sensitive ever. “Do you have breast cancer? Oh my god did I give it to you?” Jason is in a full panic as he starts running his hands through his hair and bouncing his leg. You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder.

“No you dork, it’s just my period, I started spotting today. That’s all” You roll your eyes as you cuddle up to Jason and he lets out a big breath, shoulders falling and relaxing he pulls you close, careful around your chest.

The next 2 weeks are much the same, it isn’t until you’re throwing up into a bin in the middle of your acting final that someone points out the obvious, the most mortifying part of it all? It’s Estelle, Jason’s mom and your fucking acting class supervisor. She pulls you aside into the prop room and the musty smell of the room is enough to make you gag.

“Did Jason knock you up?” Are the first words out of her mouth and they make you even more nauseous. There’s no way you- you got your period… 2 weeks ago. There's no way. You’re shaking your head as you gag, scooting past her and making your way out of the theater and home before you can get sick anywhere else. You go home and pass out, so tired, way more tired than you have been because of finals. Jason finds you curled up on the bed over the covers, he got pinged when you came home early, noting how tired you looked. He tucks you in before climbing in right after you.

Finals are finally done and Jason has booked the whole weekend off to celebrate with you, despite being sick for most of them you passed and you have a few weeks before Fall semester starts. You’re sleeping in, which Jason has noticed happening more often, you always wake up before him with a kiss on the cheek or by grinding your hips against his. He’s brushing his teeth and trying to figure out what you two should do this weekend when he spots the unusually empty trashcan in the corner of the room.

He can feel his blood run cold.

There, he hasn’t. You haven't demanded he take out the trash in almost 2 months. Usually by now there’s tampon wrappers, Jason watched you for a while, he knows your cycle about as well as you do at this point and he can feel himself panic again. You’re pregnant, he fucking knows it. You haven’t had a period in almost 2 months, and you’ve been complaining about how your jeans don’t fit because of how bloated you are. He’s rushing into the bedroom before he can even rinse out the foam from his mouth.

You wake up to an earthquake, wait New York doesn’t have earthquakes. It’s gotta be construction, you bury your face in your pillow before it’s being ripped out of your hands. You sit up and Jason is there, panic in his eyes as he’s pushing the pregnancy test you keep in the back of the cabinet for shits and giggles. You’re not even fully awake yet before he’s picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom and setting you down on the toilet.

“Jason, what the-”

“You’re pregnant. You haven’t had your period in like a month and a half.” Jason is shakily opening the box and handing the stick over to you. You’re awake now, wide awake and this time Jason isn’t alone in his anxiety. You take the plastic cover off the stick and shakily pull down your panties, Jason is still in the room. You’re not even mad, you don’t even notice really. You’re trying to pee on this fucking stick but you can hear and see the tap tap tap of Jason’s feet on the tile.

“Jason, stop! I can’t pee because you’re making me nervous!” it’s come out a little more forceful than you wanted but it makes him stop. He’s running his hands through his hair while you pee on this fucking stick and place the cap back on. You put it face down and walk out of the bathroom. Jason gapes at you, picking up the stick and following you back into the bedroom, you’ve got your head buried in your pillow. “I’m not pregnant, no way Jas. There’s no way.” You’re muffled but he knows what you’re saying. He hesitates, he never. This never.

You both talked about kids, but you both agreed not until way later. When Jason owned his own tech company and you had a job you actually liked, not this part time bullshit you balance with school. A kid was never part of the plan, Jason’s only 26 and you’re younger than him! There’s no way.

Jason runs a clammy hand over your back and sits on the bed next to you, pregnancy test in his hands face down. Too nervous to look at it without you. You’re crying, he can tell by the way your shoulders are shaking and the gaspy uneven breaths you’re taking.

“It'll be fine baby girl, whatever happens we have options. It’ll be fine.” He’s trying not to freak himself out too much, you’re always so strong for him he can be strong for you this time. “Wanna look at it together?” He’s still rubbing your shoulders and you shake your head.

“No, just tell me if I ruined your life Jason.” You sob after you finish the sentence and he’s setting the test on the bedside table as he pulls you into his chest. You cling to him and start crying anew. He’s rocking you both back and forth, hoping that this is all a mistake and that the stress just fucked everything up for you both. You both sit like this for what feels like hours till you have no more tears to cry. Jason is holding your face between his hands and showering your face with kisses.

“You could never ruin my life baby girl promise.”