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amelialincoln · 4 years

Note

Can you do a part 2 of your latest fic but they decide to have the baby and maybe a little of Amelia’s pregnancy during the pandemic? Like a time jump idk.

You and I Amelia stepped into the scrub room and peeled off her protective equipment. The inside of the hazmat suit was lined with condensation and she felt sweaty and gross. The hot flashes, her newest pregnancy symptom, were not helping. She washed her hands, enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet though she wasn’t complaining. Most of her co-workers, even the ones that were chief of their department, had barely seen the inside of the OR in months. However, the extra layers in the midsummer Seattle heat were almost unbearable and in a stuffy operating room, it became a little too much. Link burst through the door as Amelia was drying her hands.

“Hey, how did it go? Did you have lunch? Are you feeling okay today?” He was practically breathless. Amelia’s hand flew to her forehead as an overwhelmed feeling washed over her.

“Link, I’m fine.”

“Have you had your temperature taken? You look flushed.” Amelia wasn’t sure why the concern in his voice was pissing her off beyond belief.

“We get our temp taken before every shift and it’s like eighty six degrees today.”

Link nodded, pulling her into a sticky, relieved hug. “You gonna take a couple hours off? Might be good to get a nap in.”

“No, I have patients to check in on.” She tried to keep herself calm. Link had been almost unbearable lately. Of course it was Amelia who’d end up pregnant in the midst of a global pandemic and she was stressed enough as it was. Link’s constant concern wasn’t helping anyone. She grabbed a new mask and secured it around her face.

“Let’s just get you something from the cafeteria.” He tried to pull her in that direction.

“Link!” Amelia had lost her temper. “I have about a million things that are more important than getting a stupid snack from the cafeteria!”

“I just find it funny how you seem to put everyone’s health over your own!” They were yelling now. The exhaustion was wearing down on the overworked couple and Amelia rubbed her temple to soothe an oncoming headache.

“Link, if I go get something to eat I’m just going to end up throwing it up anyways,” she tried to explain calmly. He raised an eyebrow at that.

“What have you eaten today?” He hadn’t been at the apartment that morning and was genuinely curious as to if Amelia would’ve eaten anything at all without him there to force her to. The look on her face told him everything. “Amelia!” She let out a groan of exasperation in response as she glanced around at the surrounding hospital staff that were starting to stare.

“I can’t be throwing up at work,” Amelia hissed. “I can’t risk taking my mask off around patients.”

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t be working at all!” This was brought up frequently in conversation between the two.

“This pregnancy could not even be viable. You honestly think I’m going to sit at home and put my health over hundreds for a baby that might not even make it into this world?” She knew she’d crossed the line when Link took a step back. Amelia hadn’t planned on getting pregnant again after the miscarriage. An anencephalic baby followed by a miscarriage had Amelia convinced that pregnancy was not for her. Apparently the universe had other plans. She was surprised by how hard Link had taken the accident. Not knowing that the sight of her curled up on the floor of their shower, her pants stained with blood, was forever ingrained in his mind. He scoffed at her before turning and walking away. She got a text from him a few minutes later that read, “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt right now considering how pumped you are with hormones but I’m gonna try and give you some space and when you’re ready to act like an adult you can come find me.” She tried to ignore how much that stung.

On days like today Link enjoyed being an orthopedic surgeon more than anything. Owen raised his eyebrows as he watched the guy aggressively set another person’s bones into place. Link had never reminded Owen of the woman he’d taken the department over from until today. The man was obviously going through something and Owen couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with Amelia. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he raced over to a crouched Link.

“Hey, don’t you think you could do that in an OR?” He offered quickly. “With sedation?” Link glanced up at him blankly before seeming to snap into reality.

“Oh...yeah, probably.” He made eye contact with his patient. “I’ll see you later.” He motioned to Schmitt. “Can you prep him?” Before walking away and pushing into the first on call room he could find. He was surprised to find a familiar figure hunched over the side of a bunk bed, her hand cradling a non existent bump.

“You good?” He asked, his voice was stern. Amelia glanced up at him with teary eyes and Link melted. He couldn’t help but jump to the conclusion that it was happening again.

“Crampy,” she replied through gritted teeth. “It’s kind of all over so I can’t tell if it’s radiating from my stomach or not. All my muscles are tensing up.” “I’ll page Carina.”

Amelia winced as Link dug into her shoulder blade. Usually his back massages soothed her but this one was anything but comfortable.

“You’re severely dehydrated,” Carina stepped into the ultrasound room. “Even if you weren’t drinking enough and were just getting water from food, I don’t know how it could get this bad.” Amelia bit her lip and stared out the bright window.

“She hasn’t been eating.” Link shuddered as Amelia let out a tiny cry of pain and lessened the force of the massage. Carina raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep anything down.” Her voice was quiet. Link couldn’t bear the idea of Amelia blaming herself if anything ended up being wrong with the baby.

“Baby looks okay.” Carina watched both of the surgeons breathe a sigh of relief. “There must be something that you can keep down.”

“Everything I’ve tried hasn’t. I can’t be throwing up at work.”

“Then you shouldn’t be working.” Carina said the words that Amelia was actively praying that she wouldn’t. “I’ve already expressed my thoughts about you putting yourself at risk by being at the hospital. Pregnant women have compromised immune systems to begin with. It is not a good idea.”

“It’s the only distraction I have,” Amelia’s voice was so quiet it was barely heard. Link sighed, wrapping his arms around Amelia’s shaky chest.

“Amelia, I know it’s early but we have no reason to believe that this pregnancy is compromised.” Carina told the neurosurgeon, who was failing to meet eye contact. “However, the only thing you’re doing by working is increasing you and the father of your baby’s stress level. Not to mention putting yourself at the risk of this virus.”

The ride back to their apartment was silent. Amelia unloaded the small amount of groceries that they’d picked up on their way home while Link drew Amelia’s almost daily bath. Once the kitchen was tidy, Amelia made her way into the bathroom. She glanced at her lower abdomen, Carina said she should start showing over the next couple of weeks. Amelia desperately wanted that to be true. She slipped into the warm, bubbly water and allowed herself to relax for the first time in weeks. She tried not to replay the image of Tom’s exhausted face as she regretfully handed him her iPad and filled him in on the cases he’d be taking over. Tom hadn’t complained but it’s not like he was given the choice. Link cautiously joined her after about a half hour. He dunked his head under the water that was beginning to cool and shook his hair dry. He placed both of his hands over her stomach and breathed deeply.

“I talked to Bailey. She’s given me time off until this goddamn virus is over or until we can figure out a way to do this safely.”

“Link, you shouldn’t--”

“Amelia.” He cut her off sternly. “We’re not having this conversation. If I were to work, I’d be living in a hotel. Do you want that?” Amelia shook her head, moving her hands to cover his. Link breathed in the smell of her freshly shampooed hair and allowed himself to relax.

“What are we going to do with all this extra time?” A cheeky grin spread across his face even though she couldn’t it.

“I have a couple ideas,” Amelia laughed, rolling her eyes.

“What would those be?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me.”

“Too much,” she replied, shaking her head. Link chuckled, his hands leaving her non-existent bump and pulling her closely into him affectionately.

“This will be good, Mia,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but everything happens for a reason.” Amelia nodded, not ready to accept that she could be out of the OR and away from all of their friends for months.

“I won’t blame you if you want to drink.” She startled him with the topic. “All I can think about is how nice it would be to turn off my mind with a bottle of wine right now.” Link shook his head.

“If you can refrain from watching that awful reality TV when I’m around, I can refrain from a can of beer.”

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together--”

“Amelia,” Link interrupted her. “If it really meant that much to me then we could have this conversation. I honestly couldn’t care less.”

“Okay.” The bath had just cooled beyond a comfortable temperature. Link got out first, wrapping himself in a towel before holding one out for Amelia.

“I think we’re going to need a bigger tub once the baby gets here.” Amelia nodded in response, imagining the three of them crammed into the ceramic bathtub. “You hungry?”

“Not particularly but I don’t really feel nauseous.”

“So what's the most calorie dense meal possible?” Link chuckled. Amelia rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. As per usual she let Link tend to the cooking. She changed into sweatpants and a tank top and threw her curls into a bun. Her arms ached and she was surprised by how exhausted she was from just putting on clothing. She found Link hovered over the stove, pouring pasta into a pot of boiling water. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and allowed herself to relax into his sturdy frame.

“Hey.” He lowered the heat of the element and turned to cup her cheeks in his hands. “You look tired, babe.” Amelia yawned in response.

“You making pasta?”

“I was thinking mac and cheese cause I remember you said something about craving it last week. I was going to bake it in the oven with the breadcrumbs, since you like that best, but I think you might pass out before it’ll be done.” Amelia nodded, sheepishly. “Well, it’ll be good just on the stovetop too.”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip trying to refrain from breaking down out of exhaustion and guilt from how she’d been treating him. “I’m sorry about--”

“Don’t be,” he put firmly. “We’ve just had a lot of bad timing.” He turned back to stir the cheese sauce. “Doesn’t make me any less excited.” The image of Link holding a newborn baby flashed through Amelia’s head and she pushed it away.

“I’m trying so hard not to get my hopes up, Link.”

“Carina had doubts about the first one from the beginning,” he reminded her. “She prepared us for the worst.”

“Didn’t make it any less hard.”

“I know, but I trust her. There’s been no indication of anything being wrong.”

“I know.”

“And you’re twelve weeks tomorrow.”

“I know.” Link grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and spooned the cheesy macaroni into it.

“Here,” he muttered, handing it to her before grabbing one for himself. “Water,” he reminded her as she began to walk towards the dining room table.

Amelia was surprised to keep the food down. “It’s definitely the cafeteria food that’s screwing me over,” she complained as her and Link walked into their bedroom.

“Baby already likes my cooking,” Link joked as he threw one of his oversized t-shirts at her to change into. Amelia slipped off her sweatpants and let out a little gasp.

“You okay?” Link was immediately at her side. Amelia nodded, pointing at the mirror.

“I mean that could just be mac and cheese,” she laughed. Her hand went to her stomach, pressing the extremely tiny but firm bump over her uterus.

“Nah, your metabolism is out of this world,” Link chuckled. Amelia was surprised to find his eyes teary. “Sorry,” he looked away, rubbing his face with his hands. “Can I feel?”

“Sure.” She guided Link’s hand over her own and they both glanced at Amelia’s silhouette in the mirror.

“I’ve seen mac and cheese bloating before, this is definitely different.”

“Link,” Amelia shook her head with a smile. His hands were so gentle Amelia almost laughed, she knew that Link was about to treat her like a china glass doll for the remaining six months. She tried not to tease Link about how mezmorized he was by the situation as they both crawled into bed.

“You know it’s only going to get bigger,” Amelia sighed after an hour of being kept awake by Link’s refusal to take his hands off her stomach.

“That’s my baby,” Link pointed out.

“I’m aware, babe, and your baby’s mommy needs some sleep.” Link mumbled a disappointed apology in response, patting the place on his chest where she normally lay.

“Goodnight babymommy.”

“No.” Amelia’s voice was firm, Link grinned.

#amelink #amelia shepherd #amelink fanfiction #amelinkfanfic #amelink fanfic #Atticus Lincoln #greysanatomyfanfic #atticus link #greysanatomy

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elizabeethan · 4 years

Text

Now Belongs To You

The final installment of It’s About Bloody Time

Find the rest of the series on Ao3 or Tumblr

Summary: Emma liked being pregnant in the winter. She often finds herself boiling, so she welcomed the cold Maine air to cool her down. Now that it’s late-April and she’s almost 35-weeks pregnant, though, she’s a bit miserable.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has given this monster a chance! I so didn’t anticipate a quick smutty one shot to grow into a 52k word beast. Keep an eye out for additions; I have about 4 or 5 extras that I want to include in this universe and I’m not opposed to prompts

Emma liked being pregnant in the winter. She often finds herself boiling, so she welcomed the cold Maine air to cool her down. Now that it’s late-April and she’s almost 35-weeks pregnant, though, she’s a bit miserable.

April in Maine shouldn’t be this hot. In fact, it isn’t very hot. There was still snow on the ground a week ago. Killian still wears his long leather pants, button downs, and leather jackets every day and never complains of the heat. Her mother is still wearing sweaters and thick tights. She hasn’t seen her dad in short sleeves since last August. But here Emma lies in their living room—no, in Killian’s living room—in a black maternity cami and workout shorts with a tower fan pointed directly at her.

She isn’t sure how she’ll survive the next 5 weeks if the temperature keeps rising. Someone should do something about that.

She told Killian that she would finally pick out an accent color for the baby’s room today while he was out with David picking up the crib, but she can’t seem to get herself off the couch. She barely sleeps more than two hours at a time each night, her little bambino taking any and every opportunity to practice their gymnastics routine on her bladder, ribs, and lungs, so she takes any chance she can to nap. Killian keeps referring to his many apps to try and give her advice on how to combat her insomnia, but she thinks if she hears, “maybe some warm milk, darling,” one more time, she’ll snap, and her baby will be tragically born without a father.

Once she’s fully out of her sleep-induced brain fog, she hoists herself into a seated position, somehow, and reaches towards the coffee table where Killian left the paint swatches for her to peel over. It’s difficult to decide on a color when they still don’t know what they're having. The little yellow envelop still sits on the kitchen table, although it’s been shoved to the side in favor of mail and ultrasound pictures. For a while, she was tempted to open it up and find out who their little baby is, but Killian finally whispered into her neck one night that he thinks he wants to be surprised. The concept is nice, and far be it for her to ruin this for him, so she’s been going along with it.

Although, if she were to somehow find out, she wouldn’t be upset. It would probably make this whole nursery decoration thing a lot easier.

They decided together that they wanted the nursery to be nautical-themed. She figured it would be a cute and relatively gender-neutral way to decorate their baby’s first bedroom, and when she suggested it to Killian, his blue eyes lit up brighter than she’s ever seen them. The walls are still white, but she can’t decide if she wants to paint the wall with the window sky blue or a warm shade of gray.

“Hello, my darling,” her doting baby daddy greets gleefully as he enters through the front door, holding it open for David, who’s holding up a large and seemingly heavy box. Once the door is propped, he pulls the box while David pushes the other end, scraping it loudly against the textured tile floor until it’s inside.

“Hi.” The grin he wears is adorable as he rounds the coffee table and bends down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Good nap?”

She shrugs, laughing internally at the fact that he just knew she was napping despite the fact that she was doing dishes when he left. She watches him make his way back over to the box and quietly count to three before he and David hoist it and start walking towards the baby’s room. “This thing kept whacking me,” she says, gesturing towards her enlarged belly, “so I wasn’t able to sleep for long.” She finally stands from the couch and follows them into the nursery.

“Blasted child,” he grunts out, finally dropping the box to the floor with a slightly-too-loud crash as Emma winces.

“I think I want gray,” she tells him, hugging her dad with one arm once he’s catches his breath and stands up. “On the wall.”

“That’s a good idea,” David says in agreement. “Where are your scissors?”

“Next to the stove. It’s a nice gender-neutral color, don’t you think? I thought blue would be good but what if it’s a girl?”

“I believe that in this realm, girls can also like the color blue, but gray is a lovely choice as well, Swan. We can run out for the paint and start it tonight while your father’s still here.”

She smiles at him, striding over as best she can with her crampy calves protesting, and wraps her arms around the back of his neck. “Sounds like a good plan.”

He hums and smiles down at her, swooping in to press a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips. “I hope you at least got a bit of sleep. Little pineapple needs you well rested.”

She laughs lightly at his remark. Each week, he checks his pregnancy apps to see how big the baby is, and he then spends the week referring to it by whatever comparison he likes best. This week, it’s a pineapple. Killian had never tried one before, so they picked up a can during their weekly grocery haul, and he loved it. She can’t wait until they're able to get some fresh. “They're gonna have to cool it with the hip hop, then. I don’t even know how there’s any space left in there.”

“Aye, well, you now have more baby than amniotic fluid, so their movements are feeling sharper. Less of a— what was the word they used? — less of a cushion.”

“Is that why I saw a hand earlier, doctor Jones?”

“Did you?” he laughs excitedly, kissing the tip of her nose as he often does.

She nods, taking his hand off her hip and pressing it softly into the bottom of the left side of her bump. She often found that giving a few light taps encouraged the baby to tap back. Sure enough, the little turd gives his or her dad an enthusiastic high five. “This kid will not stop moving. We’re gonna have to enroll them in all the sports.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Perhaps some rum on the pacifier will calm him down once he’s here.” He raises his brows in quick succession.

“Killian!” she swats at his chest.

“No one is giving my grandchild rum until they’re at least 35.” She spins back to the door, smiling still as her dad enters and starts to cut away at the excessive packaging. “Killian, I was thinking you could go grab the paint while Emma and I work on the crib, what do you say? Mom will be here soon so we can start painting once you're back.”

“Sounds reasonable, mate.”

“Ugh, forgot my drill in the truck. I’ll be right back.”

Killian walks around Emma so that he’s facing her again, brushing away a strand of hair that fell out of her top knot. “Which swatch was it, love?”

“It’s called Dolphin Fin.”

His face twists. “Nasty buggers, if you ask me.”

“But they do make a nice wall color.”

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to her mouth, barely slinking his tongue along her bottom lip. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay, thanks. Love you.”

He freezes. Emma freezes.

What the hell? Did she seriously just say that?

He said it weeks ago. Months ago. She still hasn’t found it in herself to say it back, no matter how many times she’s thought it. Archie says she’s scared that if she admits it aloud, it makes it real, and it means that she risks losing him.

Too late to consider that now, she supposes.

Her heart is racing and her palms are sweating; the baby even stills it’s wiggles in her stomach, as if to say mom, what the hell are you doing?

He squeezes her shoulder after a moment of silence, and it’s as if he needed the time to take in what she said before he can respond. “Aye,” he says softly, more quietly than ever. “I love you, too, Emma.”

She already knew this, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the doubts as she asks, “really?”

“I thought it was rather obvious,” he laughs, “considering I’ve already told you.”

She laughs now too, tipping forward slightly (and not gracefully—she’s so front-heavy that once she starts going, she is physically incapable of stopping), pressing her forehead into his collarbone and breathing in the soothing scent of leather and new cologne. “I haven’t really said it to anyone since… well, it’s been a long time.”

“Aye,” he replies, running a hand down her back and pulling her as close to him as the bump will allow. “For me, too. It’s alright, darling. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. Not even if you try and force me away.”

“I won’t,” she says against his skin. “And I… I love you, too.” It comes out in a whisper, and she’s never felt so scared and excited in her life—with perhaps the exception of learning that she was pregnant. With a man whom she loves.

She hears the squealing buzz of the drill coming from down the hall and lets Killian gently press on her shoulders to help her to an upright position.

“I’ll be back, Swan.”

She smiles as David enters the room and makes his way back towards the crib. “Oh, Killian!” Emma calls. He turns at the door and hums, raising a brow at her. “We’re out of Cheez-Its.”

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles as he makes his way into the hall. “How?”

“Thank you!”

~~~~

“This is a nice one,” David says once the crib is finished. Emma’s been wrestling with getting the fitted sheet over the little mattress for at least five minutes now, and it’s honestly ridiculous for her to be struggling this much. “You can adjust the height of the mattress as the baby gets bigger.”

She nods, finally succeeding over the damn thing and passing it towards her dad so that he can plop it into the crib.

“I do have good taste, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “About that…”

“Uh oh,” she retorts awkwardly, “am I in trouble?”

He chuckles, walking over to her once the mattress is in place to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Quite the opposite, actually. It seems like you two are in a really good place.”

She nods, smiling as she leaves the nursery and makes her way to the kitchen for some water. All she can hear in the back of her mind is, “must stay hydrated, Swan.”

“We are.”

“I must say, it took a bit for me to get over my reservations about the pirate.”

“Oh, I remember how long it took,” she says, thinking back to her birthday and how much her father distained the idea of her inviting him.

“It may have taken a bit,” he continues pointedly, “but you two are going to be fantastic parents.”

She won’t cry, honest. “Thanks. We… well, we’re really excited. Everything happened kind of out of order, but we’re happy where we are, I think.”

“I can see that. And I'm sorry I ever pushed you towards Neal.” She nods. “If I had known last year what I know now…”

Before she can argue with him that they’ve already had this conversation, the door opens and Mary Margaret steps inside, carrying grocery bags filled with dinner ingredients.

Emma’s violent aversion to meatballs has subsided, and now she can’t get enough. They have at least a dozen in the freezer, but she still requested them for dinner tonight.

“Hi honeys!” Mary Margaret calls as David takes a bag out of her hand and guides her into the kitchen area.

“Hey,” Emma responds before making her way to the table just outside of the kitchen and taking a seat. She picks up the closest ultrasound printout and smiles at the baby’s strong profile.

Killian and David are wrapping things up in the nursery, almost finished painting with the door shut so that she wasn’t exposed to the fumes, and Mary Margaret closes the oven once the tray of meatballs are formed and placed on the rack.

“Oh, Emma, I just can’t wait to meet this little one,” her mother says over her shoulder, placing a gentle hand on the top of her belly.

“Me too,” she says with a grin. Her mother takes a seat next to Emma and pours herself a glass of wine.

“I have had a heck of a week. It’s like all of the kids pooled money for an espresso machine.”

“You're still liking being back at school though?”

“Oh, I’m loving it. It’s like being back where I belong.” Emma smiles and nods, waving in front of her at a fly that decided to make an appearance. “The nursery is going to be so cute, sweetie. Killian must love the theme.”

“Yeah, he does. I was mostly his idea. He wanted,” she swats at the air again, “damn fly. He wanted to raise the kid on the Jolly Roger without actually endangering them at sea.”

“So thoughtful. He’s gonna be a great dad.” Mary Margaret brushes her hand through the air too as the fly invades her space.

“He already is.”

“I know we’ve sort of had this discussion already, but—”

“Mary Margaret—”

“Just hear me out. Please?” Emma nods, giving her consent to continue. “Neal is a great father to Henry; I can’t doubt that. Ever since he came into his life, I’ve seen nothing love and care towards his son.”

“I know.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that what he did to you 12 years ago is unforgiveable.” Emma nods in agreement. “And your father and I, mainly me, trying to push you towards him before we knew why you were so hesitant about him being back is unforgiveable.”

“Mary Margaret…”

“I’m not saying this because I want your pity or your forgiveness. I want you to know that I’m sorry. That I see the fault in my behavior, and I want to make up for it. I’ll never stop trying to be the best person that I can for you, Emma. I hope that Neal does the same for Henry. And I know that you and Killian will do the same for your child.” She pauses for a breath and a sip of wine, swatting at the fly again before continuing. “It’s something that doesn’t always come naturally to some parents, and I was honestly worried about Killian at first, but I can see now that it is coming naturally to him, and I’m so happy that the two of you are getting the opportunity to raise a child together. I wish I had accepted these feelings months ago.”

Emma isn’t really sure what to say. They’ve talked briefly about her past with Neal over the last few months, mostly about how Emma’s working on getting past it. Emma even brought Mary Margaret to a session with Archie once. But she’s never really heard the depth of emotions that her mother was experiencing.

“Thank you… that means—”

Mary Margaret swats a bit too animatedly and bumps her hand into her glass of wine, causing it to topple over and spill onto the table. “Oh shoot!” she jumps, reaching for the soiled mail as Emma heaves herself up for some paper towel. “I’m sorry, honey, let me get this.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, this is soaking through the paper. I’m so sorry. Can I take this stuff out of their envelopes? I don’t want whatever’s inside to get ruined.”

Emma nods as she rips a few pieces of paper from the roll.

Maybe she should’ve said no, though.

“Just a few bills and ads and other junk,” she says as she quickly discards of the wine-soaked envelopes. It’s all well and good until Emma’s making her way back to the table, rounding the kitchen island, and sees Mary Margaret tearing open that small yellow envelope.

“Wait!” she shouts, holding up a hand and hurrying over to the table, but it’s too late. Or, she’s incapable of moving any faster.

Mary Margaret gasps. So does Emma.

Written on the small piece of paper that her mother pulls out is the four-letter word Emma’s been thinking about for months.

GIRL, it says, with a bold line drawn underneath, as if the technician was excited to write it down.

“Oh my.” Her mother’s eyes blow wide.

“Oh my god,” Emma whispers, placing her hands over her mouth before thinking better of it and sliding them over her bump. Over her baby girl. “Oh my god.”

“Emma…” Mary Margaret starts, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was in here!”

“Mom,” Emma laughs, tears pricking her eyes, and whispers, “it’s alright.”

“You’ve…” she walks over to Emma, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve never called me that before, not really.” Mary Margaret’s eyes are glossy, too.

She laughs out a soft sob, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “It’s a girl.”

Mary Margaret nods, pulling her daughter in for a hug as tight as the two of them can manage. “Do you have any names?”

“No!” Emma laughs out again, sniffling. “Killian didn’t want to know, and I haven’t been thinking about it much. You won’t tell him, right?”

“No! It’s—”

“All set, Swan, you're allowed in the room in a week!” Killian calls from down the hall, making his way into the kitchen. She crumples up the paper she’s holding and shoves it between her boobs. Ouch.

She sniffles once again and spins around, too quickly so that she gets a little uneasy on her feet, smiling at him. “Thank you.” Mary Margaret takes the paper towels from her grip and brushes it over her own cheeks before she starts to blot up the wine.

“No worries, Swan, you don’t need to cry over spilt wine,” he says, walking to her and kissing her forehead before taking the reddened towels from her mother.

~~~~

She hit 36 weeks of pregnancy on Tuesday, and when wakes up from her nap the following Sunday, it’s to round ligament pain, cramps in her legs, her esophagus essentially on fire, and gas… oh god, the gas. Poor Killian.

“It’s really just the most contemptable thing, my love. Peter Pan was perhaps the most treacherous foe your daddy has ever faced. Well, aside from your mother on that damn bean stock.”

“You better not be soiling my baby’s image of her mother,” she says groggily with her eyes still shut. Her breath catches as she inadvertently discloses the sex of the baby, but Killian thinks nothing of it.

“Could be a boy,” he responds, and damn him for stealing her line.

She smirks, because no she couldn’t, but looks down at him. When she opens her eyes, she sees that he’s holding the copy of Peter Pan that she gave him for Christmas, his head resting on the pregnancy pillow that replaced him weeks ago next to her thigh, and he’s reading to her again.

He’ll be the best dad.

“You should be getting up soon, love. Regina still wants to take you to lunch.”

“I can’t believe that. When has she ever shown any interest in spending time with me?”

He shrugs, his shoulder bumping into her leg, and presses a gentle kiss to the bottom of her belly, close to where the baby’s head is resting.

A thought dawns on her then, fueled by his refusal to answer her. “It’s not a shower is it? It better not be a shower.”

“You could take a shower, I guess. But I think you smell nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s a Sunday afternoon three weeks before my due date, Killian. If it’s a shower, I’ll kill you.”

“Please don’t threaten me with physical violence in front of my son,” he says seriously, and she laughs.

“Could be a girl.”

“Could be.”

~~~~

It was a shower.

Regina picked her up at 1:30 and drove her straight to town hall. She didn’t even try to disguise it.

“This was your mother’s idea,” she tells her apathetically as she parks in her front spot. Emma is glad to have such a short distance to walk, or should she say, waddle.

The hall is decorated similarly to how the nursery is, ornamental ropes and netting and shells scattered along the tables and blue and pink streamers cascading from the ceiling.

Everyone she’s ever known is there, and while she thought she would hate the attention, she’s actually happy to see all of the friends she’s made since arriving in Storybrooke. Even Anna and Elsa made their way over via portal from Arendelle.

Her mother also provided snacks and desserts, and Emma couldn’t be happier to have a big bowl of Cheez-Its sat in front of her for the entire party. There are also onesie decoration stations, polls for guessing the due date and gender, and plenty of games to keep everyone busy before cake and gifts. The cake was beautiful; Granny somehow created one in the shape of a ship’s wheel. Emma doesn’t cry, she doesn’t.

The guests for most of the shower are women, but at the end, David, Henry, and Killian arrive to say hello to everyone and help to pack up. She received so many things that she didn’t think she would need, but her parents also gave her the things she had planned on buying herself, like the stroller and car seat she’s been looking at.

She doesn’t cry. Really.

“Hi baby,” Killian says, bending to kiss the top of her belly, and then, “hi baby mama,” as he stands straight and kisses her chastely.

She laughs, taking his face between her two hands and kissing him back with a bit more heat, slipping her tongue against his and pulling his hair. There were a few weeks there when she didn’t really feel like sex, but for some reason that she isn’t questioning, her drive is back. Her doctor says it’s healthy, so she’s taking that knowledge and running with it.

“Easy tiger,” he says, “we’ve got company.”

She hums out a laugh, leaning her forehead against his. “Just hoping to induce labor. I don’t know how I’ll survive another three weeks and two days.”

He snorts and ignores her statement in favor of asking, “where would you like us to bring the gifts, my love?”

She grins at his addition of the word my and shrugs. “Home, I guess,” she teases.

“Your home or mine?”

Did she seriously forget that they don’t actually live together? Seriously?

“Oh, um…” she starts, taking a moment to consider her answer. There are so many things she could say. She could tell him to send the things to his house. To the baby’s house, because honestly, she knows that’s where the baby is living. But instead of being blasé about the situation, she thinks about what Archie would say. About how she could start putting herself and her needs first, without worrying about the consequences that she makes up in her own head. So, she softly says, “ours,” and looks at him timidly.

“Ours,” he repeats, breathing out a laugh and shaking his head lightly. “Really?”

She nods. “I think… well, I want to live with you. Officially. I know everything in life is uncertain, but I know for sure that I want to live with you and the baby. Full time. That is… if you—if you want that.”

There could have been a more romantic time or place to have this conversation. Her family and friends are running around trying to pack, she’s eaten more cake in the last hour than she cares to disclose, and she’s trying really hard to hold in a fart. But something about this feels right, and when she sees the grin that splits his face in two, she knows that she made the right call.

“Well, when you put it like that, I would love to live with you,” he says, leaning in towards her and kissing her so gently and passionately that she can feel it in her toes. He tries to pull her in closer, but the child between them makes it pretty difficult, so he laughs into their kiss and rubs his hand along the side of her bump. “Shall I tell Dave to move your things into your new abode, my darling?”

She laughs and swats at his chest before leaning in to kiss him once more. “That sounds perfect, baby daddy.”

~~~~

Emma’s been in labor before. She knows the difference between Braxton Hicks and actual contractions, but each time she stops where she stands and rubs her belly, breathing deeply, Killian rushes over and asks if it’s time. She knows he’s excited, and he seems pretty calm, but it for some reason, that agitates her.

“No, god dammit,” she would hiss, gritting her teeth through it, trying to shake it off. She knows that if it goes away when she moves, she’s in the clear. He doesn’t ever seem to know how to respond to her outbursts, so he just kisses her temple and goes back to what he’s doing. Usually, he’s getting her a snack.

At a few days shy of 39 weeks, she supposes she could be in a much worse mood.

She’s moved past the nesting stage and straight into obsessive planning and cleaning. She’s made Killian rearrange the nursery at least four times, moved the position of the bassinet in their bedroom twice, and has yet to decide what side she wants the car seat installed. At least he’s now had plenty of practice on how to properly install it.

The worst part is how anxious she is. She wants this baby to come out more than anything—revels in the idea of finally meeting the tiny life they’ve created. She wants to meet her daughter. But she also wants to keep her safe. How is she supposed to keep her baby safe if she isn’t inside her? She’s built a lovely home for this kid over the last 9 months, thank you very much.

So, every time she has a Braxton Hicks contraction, she panics a bit. Because as much as she wants to give birth and not be 9 months pregnant anymore, she’s absolutely terrified of the idea.

Sometimes, though, the late-term pregnancy symptoms are worse than the thought of staying pregnant forever. She could do without lightening crotch and weird discharge for the rest of her life and be perfectly content.

It’s her turn to consult the apps, searching for ways to encourage labor when the heartburn and pelvic pain become too much to bear, and while walks and exercise balls are nice ideas, her favorite suggestion is sex.

Killian was nervous when she started coming on to him, but he seems to enjoy himself based on the way he runs his hand along her body, presses his mouth against her heated skin, and tucks his throbbing erection tightly into her from behind and comes with a long, deep moan.

When they're finished and she’s panting with her knees and face pressed into the mattress and her ass in the air, she sighs. “Still nothing.”

“It’s not time yet, love,” he says soothingly to her left, running his hand along her arched back and landing it on her ass. “You can’t be comfortable like this.”

With her belly hanging down and resting against the mattress, she’s surprisingly comfortable, the pressure finally releasing from her hips, but she’s going to have lines pressed into her face if she doesn’t move soon.

“It’s almost time, though. I’m literally going insane over here. I can barely breathe from the heartburn and these huge feet shoving into my lungs. Can’t she just pop out a little early?”

“While I would love to be able to prove you wrong sooner rather than later, I think that he is enjoying his time in the safety of your womb, my love.”

She snorts at his insistence and flops over onto her side so that her back is pressed to his front, his hand sliding around her to hold her huge belly.

“I’ll be full term on Tuesday. They can come out any time they want.”

“That’s still three days away, and then you’ll only be 39 weeks.”

“I can deliver at 39 weeks. I was 37 with Henry.”

His small strokes slow when he asks, “were you?”

She nods against his chest, feeling her eyes getting heavy and her breathing finally evening out a bit. “Can you get my pillow? I think I might actually fall asleep tonight.”

“It’s only 7:30.” She shrugs. “Of course, Swan.” He chuckles lightly, kissing the back of her neck and pulling away, replacing his missing body heat with a blanket and tucking her pillow between her knees.

When she wakes to a professional dance routine just before eleven, it’s to their empty bed, the soft glow of a light down the hall illuminating her path as she gets up. As she makes her way to the bathroom, she feels a warm trickle starting down her legs and suspects that her water must be breaking, and she nearly squeals in excitement.

Then she panics, because labor and delivery is no walk in the park, but she tries to focus on the fact that her baby is on her way.

In a few hours, she’ll get to meet her daughter. Their daughter.

How is she going to raise a kid from day one? Henry was easy, all the hard work was done for her and she was left with an awesome 10-year-old. This one is all on her, though.

Well, on them. Archie would ask her why she feels the need to burden solely herself.

Shit, they should’ve discussed names more seriously.

No way is she naming her child Gertrude.

Once she’s cleaned up both herself and the floor (as best she can by rubbing a towel against it with her foot), she knows she should be heading to the hospital soon to ward off infection or illness, but she also knows that she has a long road ahead of her, so she first heads out to the living room and grabs her phone from where she left it on the couch and shoots a text first to her mother, and then to Ruby.

“Swan?” she hears from the nursery. She starts to smile, but then she feels what she assumes is the start of a contraction and she stops in her place. The pressure and pain on her back and belly are strong, starting from the top of her bump and rolling down in a wave, but it’s over pretty quickly, so she isn’t too worried. Of course, Killian is worried, though. “Swan!”

“It’s—”

“Is it time? It’s too early! The baby isn’t done cooking yet, there’s still a week to go!”

“No,” she breathes out as she sits down on the couch, bringing him with her. “It’s okay, the baby is almost full term. If they're ready, they're ready.”

“it’s too soon, Swan. I thought we would have another week.”

“What difference is a week going to make?” she snaps, calming her voice as she continues. “It’ll just be more baby for me to push out. I’m perfectly okay with delivering now.”

This was new. Usually Killian was the cool and collected one of the two of them, but it appears he’s currently losing his mind over this. “I can’t…” he starts, his eyes darting in every direction and his brows practically hidden under his thick hair. “What if I can’t do it?”

“Killian…”

“I was… I didn’t have a father. Not really. How the bloody hell am I supposed to know how to be one myself? I’m no role model for a young lad.”

“You already are a father, Killian. You’ve been the most amazing dad to this baby since the minute you found out about them,” she sooths, taking his hand in hers and drawing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles.

“What if it is a boy, and I raise him to be like me?

“That wouldn’t be so bad, but—”

“Like the worst version of me?”

“No, baby, that’s not—”

“Swan, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I can’t raise a child— I can’t raise a son.” He’s practically in tears, and she can feel his hand shaking in her grasp as his breath catches in his throat.

“Killian,” she says more firmly because, let’s face it, she doesn’t have much time for breakdowns here, and she grabs his cheeks between her hands. “There is not a doubt in my mind that you are, and will continue to be, the most amazing father that this baby could ever dream of having. You and me… we understand each other, remember? Neither of us know what it’s like to be raised by loving parents. But it’s a challenge that we’re going to face together. We get a chance to love this kid the way we wish we had been.”

He can’t seem to meet her eyes with his, either because he doesn’t want to, or because he worries that if he moves them the tears that are threatening to fall will begin to cascade down his cheeks. Something dawns on her then, though, and she realizes that the thought of having a son is weighing heavily on him. Before she can consider whether it’s a good idea or not, she opens her mouth. “I know you don’t think you're capable of being a father, but… well, that ship has sailed, Hook, and your daughter’s on it and waiting for you to jump on.”

He freezes, finally looking her in the eyes as the tears roll down. “My what?”

Emma smiles, running her hand gently along his cheek before leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but I thought it might be helpful for you to know.”

He shakes his head and lets out a breath, saying, “it’s a girl?”

“I found out by accident a few weeks ago,” she nods, her nose rubbing along his. “Are you mad at me?”

He laughs breathily and kisses her, shaking his head. “How could I ever be mad at you?”

“I know, right?” she jokes, but this conversation has gone on for too long, and she feels the wave of another contraction starting. She forgot to check the time after the last one, so she isn’t able to tell how close together they are, but she knows more will come for her to track. “Ugh,” she says, breathing as deeply as she can. “What time is it?”

“11:16.”

“Count,” she demands. She continues to breathe deeply through circled lips as he sits by her quietly and rubs her knuckles with his thumb. “Okay,” she breathes out finally.

“That was about 26 seconds.”

“From when I told you to start counting?”

“Aye.”

She figures it’s safe to add 10 seconds and takes out her phone to mark it down. “We should go. I could still talk through that one, but my water broke, so I have to go to the hospital.”

“Your water broke? When?”

“When I woke up. Don’t worry, I cleaned it. Can you get the baby’s bag from the nursery, and mine from the closet? And don’t forget yours, too.”

~~~~

Her parents meet them at the hospital once they arrive, only after she shouted at Killian from the car about all of the things she thought she forgot. When they arrived, she realized she forgot deodorant, and it took a lot of convincing on Killian’s part to get her inside rather than turning the car around.

That doesn’t mean she didn’t send him to the gift shop to get her deodorant.

“How am I going to change a diaper with a hook for a hand?” Killian asks in another panic during one of her fiercer contractions, and she squeezed his good hand so hard she thinks she might break it.

“Fuck!” she shouts through it, then glares at him once it subsides. “I’ll magic your fucking hand back on if it’ll make you happy, okay? Fuck.”

She’s panting and sweaty, but she wanted to wait a bit before she got the epidural. She isn’t sure why the hell she would do that.

“Do you think that’s an option?” he asks as he rests the cool, damp cloth on her forehead, and she sighs.

“I don’t know, Killian, maybe. Maybe we can ask Regina.”

“Maybe Gold would know,” her father pipes in, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“You're not going anywhere near Gold, got it? He’ll probably just manipulate you until he gets what he wan—ahh, fuck.”

Another wave starts and she reaches for Killian’s hand again, drawing a grimace from him. The poor thing. He would probably have an easier time with this process if he could switch hands between contractions.

“The doctor will be in soon, my love,” he says once it passes as he kisses her temple. “She’ll check you again and then you can get your epi— your epi—epinephrin.”

She breathes out a laugh as she drops her head back to the pillow, panting and closing her eyes. “It’s an epidural. Fuck, you're so cute. I love you so much.”

He laughs now, kissing her cheek and running his crushed hand through her matted, sweaty hair. “I know you're just saying that because of all the hormones, but I love you too.”

“Sorry I keep yelling at you.”

“It’s alright, Emma, I still quite fancy you.”

“Sweetheart, do you need more ice chips?” She had honestly forgotten that her parents were in the room. She wasn’t planning on having them with her the whole time, but she thought she might want the extra moral support.

“No, I’m fine, but can you guys do something for me?” she asks, now fixated on the idea.

“Of course, anything.”

“Can you go ask Regina about Hook’s hand?”

~~~~

A beautiful baby girl is born at 7:22 on the morning of June seventh. She weighs eight pounds and four ounces, and she’s 19 inches long.

She’s absolutely perfect.

She comes out screaming and crying, but relatively easily otherwise, and the second that Emma hears her cries, she breaks down into sobs herself and reaches for her daughter. She’s placed on her bare chest shortly after her birth, with Killian resting his head against Emma’s and crying softly into her hair as he looks down at their baby.

Emma has never felt such bliss and joy in her entire life.

The last time she was in this position, she was broken. She had been heartbroken by the person she loved, whom she thought loved her. She had been betrayed by the system that was supposed to protect her.

Now, she has her family, a man she loves by her side, and her chubby, beautiful, flawless daughter in her arms.

She has almost no hair, just a few light whisps at the top of her head, and Emma suspects that she may inherit her blonde locks. She hasn’t been able to see much of her eyes yet, but she suspects that she has Killian’s.

Killian takes the baby from the nurses once she’s been weighed and measured and cleaned, and Emma notices that he’s removed his hook. The way he cradles her like she’s more impeccable than the most precious piece of treasure he’s ever pilfered makes her heart skip a beat.

She’s floating on a cloud, or perhaps on a ship, and she couldn’t be calmer and happier than she is now. Although, perhaps that’s also thanks to the hormones her body is emitting.

Her parents appear after a while and coo over the new bundle of joy as Emma rests her eyes. She’s soothed by the sounds of her mother and father doting over their grandchild and praising her parents for how beautiful and perfect she is.

A few moments later, Henry arrives and immediately give Emma a hug, making her tear up. He sits on the bed with her as Killian places the baby in his arms, encouraging him to support her neck the same way that he learned to. (“This YouTube is a wonderful thing, Swan.”)

Henry brings Emma flowers, and says that his dad helped him pick them out from the gift shop. It doesn’t bother her as much as she thinks it could have, knowing that he’s here, or at least dropped off their son. She sees the effort that he’s making and appreciates that he hasn’t been around to bother her in several months. Henry is their kid, like it or not, and if Neal continues to put him first and leave everything else out of their coparenting relationship, then maybe they can bury the hatchet one day. Again, though, perhaps that’s the oxytocin talking.

She was thrilled to see her family and to discuss the new light of her life, but when Ruby and Granny walk in with a greasy paper bag, she almost jumps from the bed and launches herself towards them. She thinks better of it, of course, and once her hands are clean, she trades Granny the baby for the grilled cheese and onion rings. She even feels generous and shares a few with Henry.

Granny hugs Killian tighter than she’s seen her hug anyone. She looks down at the sleeping baby and back up at Killian and has tears in her eyes. It’s genuinely the most unexpected, beautiful relationship Emma may have seen in Storybrooke.

Regina makes a brief appearance when she comes to pick Henry up later and takes a quick look at their baby girl with a smile on her face. She wishes them congratulations and tells them that she’s beautiful, as if they didn’t know already.

In the late afternoon, when everyone has blessedly left and Emma starts to breastfeed their daughter again, Killian speaks from the chair next to her bed for what feels like the first time in hours.

“What are we going to call her, Swan?” He’s nearly whispering, the quietness of the room setting a soft and placid mood.

“I don’t know. She’s so beautiful and perfect, we need to find the perfect name.”

“So, Gertrude.”

“No!” If she was thinking clearly, she would know that he was joking.

He stands from the recliner and makes his way to sit at the side of her bed with her. He couldn’t stay away from the two of them, and she didn’t mind. “We’ll think of something, love,” he says with a kiss to her temple, then another to the tip of her nose, and then a final kiss to the top of the baby’s fuzzy head. “She looks like my mother.”

“Does she?”

He nods. “Just a bit. I think she may have my eyes.”

“I was hoping for that,” Emma says with a grin. The baby finishes eating and spits the nipple out, impatiently wiggling around until Emma can readjust her in her arms. Her behaviors in the womb seem to match those she’s displaying outside.

He kisses Emma’s head again, lingering his lips against her hair and breathing in deeply. “Did you just smell me?”

“Not intentionally, although you do smell delicious.”

“I’m sweaty!”

“Only because you just gave birth to the most beautiful being in all the realms. That makes you smell nice.”

“Shut up,” she laughs. “Don’t make me curse at you in front of my daughter.”

“Corrine,” he blurts out suddenly and with no preamble.

“Corrine?”

“Aye, Corrine.”

“It’s…” she looks down at the baby again, at her soft cheeks and sloped nose and her closed, puffy eyes, and smiles. “It’s perfect. How did you come up with it?”

He shrugs, dropping a kiss to her shoulder this time. “You just kept saying ‘we have to think about names, Killian’, so I thought about names. Didn’t you?” He’s smirking at her, the cheeky bast—so and so.

“Not really,” she laughs. “I just knew I kind of wanted the middle name to be Ruth, after my dad’s mother.”

“Corrine Ruth. It’s rather fetching.”

“Corrine Ruth Jones,” she nods with a smile, looking down at her and running a finger along her fair brow.

Killian stills, his jaw stiffening against her head. “Jones?” he asks tightly.

“What, now you’re questioning her paternity?” The baby, Corrine, opens her eyes and looks up to Emma as if to confirm that she is most definitely a Jones. Or perhaps to tell her to be quiet, she’s trying to nap.

“No,” he says softly, touching a finger to the silky skin of Corrine’s cheek and nose. “No, look at these eyes,” he laughs. “I just didn’t realize… I know that in your realm, it’s customary to give a child it’s father’s surname, but I also know that tradition is fading in popularity…”

She sighs contentedly, leaning her forehead against his and kissing his cheek. “I always wanted her to have your name. Jones is a little more dignified than the name I gave myself when I was ten, anyway.”

“I am a rather dignified fellow.” He laughs, and she nods. “Are you sure, love?” he asks with less confidence.

“Positive.”

~~~~

“Are you ready?”

“Aye.”

“Are you sure about this? You can still change your mind.”

“I’m sure, Swan.”

Corrine tuts happily in response from her rocker in the living room. At five weeks old, Emma and Killian have found that she’s happiest when she’s moving; she settles down almost immediately when being rocked or gently bounced, but as soon as the motion stops, she’s squirming and fussing just as she was in Emma’s stomach. They purchased a rather expensive rocker a few days after she was born and found it to be life changing.

“Is your daddy ready, angel? Is he?” Emma makes her way over to Corrine from the kitchen and coos at her. “Is he ready to have his hand back, baby girl? Hmm?” She responds in kind with a kick and a contented blubber, and Emma can’t resist unstrapping and picking her up to smack a succession of kisses to her chubby cheeks and still bald head. She was born with some extra fat around the edges, and after just over a month, she’s put on plenty more. She’s a very, very good eater.

“I’m ready, love. Think about how much easier your life would be if I could change a poopy diaper on my own.” Never in her life did Emma think she would hear Captain Hook utter the phrase poopy diaper, never mind want to change one himself.

“Okay, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, you know? This has been a part of you for years.”

“Aye, I know, darling, but… Captain Hook is no more. He’s retired, if you will. I want to move on with my life; from that time in my life.”

She nods, understanding what he means. When they discovered from Regina that Emma should have the ability to return his lost limb, they thought long and hard about it. Killian was quiet for the last few weeks as he seemed to consider his options, but after not too long, he told her that this is what he wants. “I want to hold my daughter with both hands, love.” Emma was the one to put it off, nervous to mess it up.

Now, though, they have the disturbing jar from Gold’s shop, courtesy of Belle, sitting on their kitchen table, and she’d like to get the ominous Halloween decoration away from their baby sooner rather than later. “Ugh,” she says. “I can’t believe he kept it.”

She places Corrine back in her rocker and straps her in safely before making her way back to the kitchen, hesitant to look at the floating hand for too long. She thinks back to what Regina told her, delving into her magic as deeply as she can before it feels right. She waves her hand in Killian’s direction, feeling the magic flowing from her core in a string towards him.

Before she knows it, he’s raising his arm and wiggling the fingers of his left hand between them. “You did it, love, thank you,” he says with a smile. He walks to her and touches her cheek with his newly returned hand, grinning at her brightly as he lets it travel into her hair. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I met you.”

She leans into his touch before pressing a kiss to his palm, trying to ignore the fact that it was just in a jar of Rumpelstiltskin’s creepy magic water. “I love you,” she says, taking his hand in hers and leaning in to kiss his lips. “Now go pick up your daughter with that thing. I think it’ll change your life.”

“You're just saying that because, if my nose is correct, she needs a change,” he says, although his tone is far from annoyed.

She nods back at him, kissing him one more time before turning him around and pushing him towards her. “Maybe, but it’s your right as her father. One that you’ve been sorely missing out on over the last few weeks. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You always are, aren’t you, my love?” he asks, and once he’s undone her buckles, he wraps his hands around her middle, supporting her head with his left hand. He breathes out meaningfully once he pulls her from her seat and lifts her towards his face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I never thought I’d be here,” he says softly, rocking her gently as he keeps his lips close to her cheek, his eyes closed.

“I know,” Emma says, making her way towards the two of them and rubbing one hand up his back and reaching the other around him to stroke a finger along her fuzzy bald head. “Me either.”

“You’ve given me so much, love. Everything I never knew I needed.” His voice is thick with emotion, and Emma can feel her own throat tightening. “There was a time centuries ago when I thought I wanted to be a father, but after everything… I just never thought it would happen. I never thought I’d be in a place where I was actually in love with the mother of my child.” She blushes at his evocative words, reaching her arms around his waist from behind him and pressing a kiss to his back between his shoulder blades. “I love you,” he says, turning in her arms. “Thank you.”

With Corrine starting to wiggle between them due to his stillness, he laughs lightly and begins to sway back and forth within Emma’s arms, and she reaches up onto her toes and kisses him softly.

Before she knows it, he’s leading her, somehow, in a gentle dance through the living room, softly humming some song she’s never heard before. Her eyes meet Corrine’s— they still match Killian’s— and she leans her forehead against his chest so that her face is just above their daughter’s. Even with the unfortunate smell suspended between the two of them, everything is perfect.

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @profdanglaisstuff @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo

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1heartfanfics · 6 years

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Prompt: Jackson accidentally eats a LOT of dairy (maybe in a soup he doesn't realize is cream based?) and gets really crampy & nauseous and thinks he's going to vomit but ends up being sick from the other end. With caretaker Kaiser of course :)

Something was wrong with Jackson. Kaiser had been able to tell that much for a while now. As soon as they’d finished dinner he’d been acting weird. Well, they hadn’t actually been sitting together but he’d sensed that something was off and had been watching him. Once they got in the car his suspicions were confirmed.

Jackson was being unusually quiet, his coat draped over himself despite how warm it was in the car, and he leaned his head against the window when we got halfway home. Kaiser chose not to say anything, because he knew Jackson often denied things when asked directly, but he glanced over at him worriedly the whole rest of the way to their house.

“You want to watch a movie?” Kaiser asked when they got inside. He figured that Jackson was sick or something, and that it would be best if he could get him to just rest for the remainder of the evening.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” Jackson hesitated, shrugging.

“Big plans?” Kaiser joked, raising an eyebrow. What else could he possibly want to do? He obviously isn’t feeling well. If the flush of his cheeks was anything to go by he was probably running a fever.

“I’m pretty tired actually, I was thinking about just showering and heading to bed,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.

That made Kaiser worry even more. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. He must really be feeling bad to want to go to bed this early.

“Oh, yeah okay that’s fine,” he said, stepping forwards to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. To be honest, he was trying to subtly feel for a fever. Jackson’s skin hadn’t really felt warm to his lips, but it was just a quick peck, hard to tell.

Jackson headed off to take a shower, fighting the urge to bend over and grip his stomach, it was cramping so bad. It felt like a lactose intolerance thing, but he hadn’t eaten any dairy today. He’d had a tuna sandwich and an apple for lunch, and then him and Kaiser had gone to their church’s soup dinner; a little bit of tomato soup and corn chowder, both of which were amazing.

He entered the bathroom and turned the shower on, since that had been his cover story. Once the door was closed and he was safely alone he hunched forwards over his stomach, arms wrapping around himself to cradle the upset organ as it cramped harshly, forcing a burp up his throat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, starting to feel nauseous as the cramps tore through him.

He wished that he’d just told Kaiser he was feeling sick. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he did this all the time. He knew that his boyfriend wouldn’t be annoyed or judgmental, he never was. And it’s not like Jackson gets embarrassed about this. He just wasn’t good at talking about it.

But the nausea was wracking his body in waves, his stomach cramping so harshly that it brought tears to his eyes. Yeah, definitely a lactose intolerance thing. What the actual hell?

No matter, he didn’t care what had caused it right now, he just wanted his boyfriend dammit. So he swallowed his pride, “Kaiser.” He knew he’d have to be louder than that if he wanted to actually get his attention. He hurt so bad though.

He sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth and tried again, “Kaiser!”

“Jaz?” Kaiser asked a minute later, knocking on the door. “You okay?”

“No... can you come in?”

The door opened, Kaiser’s head peaking inside. His face morphed into a pout as soon as he saw Jackson sitting on the ground in front of the toilet. He knew what was going on.

“Oh love, what did you eat?” he asked, moving to sit next to Jackson, not touching him but close enough that he could lean on him if he wanted to. He did, pressing his face into Kaiser’s chest.

“I don’t know,” he practically wailed. “Tuna for lunch and then tomato and corn chowder tonight.”

“Mmm,” Kaiser winced. “Baby, chowder is cream based.”

“Wha- I- it is?” he stammered, feeling sicker by the second.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck I ate a ton of that. Oh my god, Kai fuck. This hurts,” he cried, fisting his hands in Kaiser’s shirt as his stomach cramped again.

“I know it does love, try to breath through it,” Kaiser soothed, rubbing his hand up and down Jackson’s back.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he groaned, tears welling in his eyes as he moved to lean over the toilet.

Kaiser moved to kneel behind him, keeping his hand steady on Jackson’s back to stabilize him. Then all of a sudden, Jackson shot up, yanking down his pants and sitting down on the toilet. Kaiser was taken aback for a second, not moving, but then he snapped out of it. He stood up, moving to stand beside Jackson, who was slumped over, moaning as his stomach emptied into the toilet.

“Poor baby, you’ll be okay Jaz just breath,” he muttered, carding his fingers through Jackson’s hair.

After a few minutes, he was finally done, at least for the time being. He felt awful. Slumped over himself, drenched in sweat, and shaking.

“All done love?” Kaiser asked. He recieved a slight nod from the miserable looking boy next to him. “Okay, well I’ll let you get cleaned up and then we can get you in some pj’s and go to bed alright?”

Jackson didn’t answer, so he just quietly slipped out of the bathroom muttering “holler if you need me,” as he pulled the door shut behind him.

He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and some of Jackson’s lactose pills. They don’t help much after the fact but it’s better than nothing. When he walked into their bedroom Jackson was sitting on the edge of their bed, head in hands.

“Here you go sweetie,” he said, handing Jackson the water and medicine.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking them from Kaiser’s hands. Kaiser moved over to their closet to grab Jackson’s comfy pants and a t-shirt, tossing them onto the bed.

“Still hurt?” he asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Alright, well get changed and then I’ll rub your tummy okay?” he suggested, changing into a pair of joggers to sleep in himself.

After he got changed, they both climbed into bed, leaving the comforter off because Jackson always got overheated when he felt sick. He cuddled up to Kaiser’s side, sighing in relief as Kaiser’s cold hand made contact with his bare stomach, immediately soothing the cramps.

As Kaiser started to rub gentle circles he felt himself slowly start to relax, feeling better already. He always had that effect, ‘magic hands’ Jackson liked to say.

“Wake me up if you feel sick again baby,” Kaiser whispered, pressing a kiss into Jackson’s hair as he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

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theranskahovs · 6 years

Text

Crimson *Sergei x Reader*

Warnings: period sex. more dirty talk than usual.

A/N: I should just change my url to “sergeimalikov” bc that’s all I ever write now 🤗 do you know how easily I could’ve wrote sergei getting his red wings you’re welcome I didn’t

•••

The warmth of Sergei’s hand on your lower back is soothing, especially when he massages in slow circles. Every few minutes he gets caught up in the show he’s watching and forgets what he’s doing, until he remembers and begins the movement again.

You let out a deep breath as another wave of cramps flows through you. Your fingers tighten their grip on Sergei’s shirt as you let it pass. From your position on the bed you can’t see the TV, but you don’t mind. You’ve wrapped your arms and legs around Sergei, with your face pressed into his neck. Just the thought of moving away from him is unappealing.

Sergei’s hand strokes over your hair absentmindedly, making you want to cuddle even closer to him if it were possible.

“It hurts so bad,” you groan, the sound muffled by his shirt.

“I know, kitten, I’m sorry.” You’ve taken painkillers but they refused to kick in, you were already overheated enough without a heating pad, and Sergei was doing his best but his hand on your back didn’t help that much.

“Have you ever tried sex to help with cramps?” He asks bluntly.

“No. Most guys are terrified of blood.”

“If I was scared of blood then I’m in the wrong business,” Sergei says with a chuckle. “Do you... want to try it, then?”

“Sure. It’s not like it’ll make it worse.” You move up so your faces are level as you give your verdict.

Sergei smiles, leaning in to kiss you and roll you over. “Wait, wait, wait, give me a minute.”

You hop off the bed, going to the bathroom. You grab a towel from the cabinet and peak your head back out to toss it to Sergei; you’re lucky you had a darker one that was clean. You head back into the bathroom, preparing yourself. You debate putting your pants back on but decide against it, knowing they’ll just get bloody anyway. While you’re at it you take off your shirt, it’ll make it easier.

You take a moment to pep talk yourself, reminding yourself you look sexy even if you don’t necessarily feel it. In all honesty you feel bloated and crampy, and those together don’t equal the highest confidence.

You emerge from the bathroom, hurrying to get on the towel. Even though there’s no way anything could be dripping out already you’re scared to stain the carpet.

“What?” you question as you position yourself on the towel. Sergei’s staring at you, making you wonder if there’s already a mess. You feel so vulnerable, and with your hormones a mess it almost makes a frustrated tear spring to your eye.

He grins at you, “You’re so gorgeous, angel.”

You smile sheepishly back as Sergei finishes stripping. Once he’s done you pull him down for a kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

He hovers above you, and you’re glad he’s putting less of his weight on you than usual. Normally it’s a comforting presence, but your stomach is already in too much pain.

You pull back as he starts to pinch your nipple. “Be gentle, everything is sore.” He nods, pressing a kiss to where he pulled too hard.

He presses kisses all over your chest, hands heavy on your waist. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly when he bites your neck. His tongue roves over the area he bit, soothing the sting.

Your nails drag down his chest as he kisses you again. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, not rushed but still just as passionate.

You reach down to stroke Sergei’s half-hard cock, enjoying the low groan he makes. In turn he licks his thumb and reaches between your bodies to play with your clit.

The sensations are heightened and it has you letting out a soft moan. His fingers slip further down and before you know it he’s sliding one in. “Sergei!” You gasp, half in shock and half in pleasure.

He adds another finger, and continues rubbing your clit. He sighs at how tight your grip on his cock is getting, bucking into your hand. Your thumb smears the precum around his red tip.

“Sergei, please,” you whine as his fingers hit your gspot, begging for even more.

“Ready, babygirl?” He grits out.

“Yes, daddy.” The feeling of being empty has your walls clenching around nothing as he pulls his fingers out. He spreads you open and teases your entrance with his dick.

You sit up on your elbows, “Don’t you want a condom?” You don’t think he’d want to get his dick bloody.

“Doesn’t make difference to me” he says with a shrug.

You nod, laying back down. He presses in slowly like you asked, slipping in easily from your arousal and the blood. Both of you moan once he’s fully in.

He grips your thighs, keeping your legs spread open. When you look down to watch his movements, you see red fingerprints on your thighs.

You flush at the sight, knowing by now blood must be all over the towel and on him. You feel so exposed. Somehow it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together.

He fucks you slowly but intensely, and a rough thrust has you crying out and putting your hands on his chest.

He stops instantly. “What’s wrong? What is it?” His eyes are full of love as they search yours, hating that he hurt you.

“I think you hit my cervix, and it did not feel good.”

“Do you want to stop?”

That’s the last thing you want. “No, just- just don’t go that deep.” You laugh to yourself, thinking it’s probably the first and last time you’ll ever say that sentence.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He moves down to your lips, and the kiss radiates ardor.

“Better?” Sergei asks after a while.

“Yes, so much.” Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

He smirks down at you, “Guess my cock is just too big for you.”

You giggle, “Or my cervix is lower this week, but I’ll let you think whatever you want.”

“Oh?” He hums, challenging you to keep talking. If you weren’t feeling so bad he’d probably punish you for making such a comment.

“It’s too big for your pretty mouth, no? That’s why you always choke on it, right?” He angles his hips so he’s hitting your gspot, leaving you a moaning mess.

“Daddy asked you question, kitten.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, making your head spin.

“Mm- yes- your cock’s too big for me,” you grit out, barely able to form an understandable sentence. Your hips roll, desperate to meet his thrusts.

Sergei kisses along your jaw line, nipping at your bottom lip. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you murmur, “Fuck.”

You’d have hoped you wouldn’t be able to think of the pain, but instead it turned into a dull ache. Still there, making you wince if you thought about it, but buried beneath the arousal you felt.

“You feel so perfect, princess,” Sergei groans into your ear. “Gonna make me cum.”

You smirk at the praise. His thrusts get sloppier as he nears the end. You’re not far behind, each circle of your clit sends a zap of electricity to your core. Each press of his dick against your gspot has your walls fluttering around him.

“C’mon baby, cum for daddy,” he encourages. You bite your lip, focusing on how amazing his length feels as each stroke stretches you out.

“Want me to fill your cute little pussy up? Have my cum drip down your legs?”

“Mmmhmm,” you moan out, the beginnings of your orgasm taking hold.

Everything happens so fast. Your clit is being rubbed at what feels like supersonic speed, and every thrust is hitting perfectly.

“Sergei!” You exclaim, before your body takes over, sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your walls tighten around Sergei, bringing his own release. He tightens his grip on your hips, moaning deeply.

He hovers above you, resting his forehead on yours as you both recover. You put your hands on both sides of his face, kissing all over.

He pulls out and rolls over onto his back next to you. You prop yourself up on your elbow, admiring how well the post-sex glow looks on him. You stare at the blood that’s on him, his hands (which by now you’re well used to) and his dick.

“Do you feel better?” He asks.

You nod, smiling back at him. “I need a shower now, though. Join me?”

He makes a sound of agreement, getting up and starting the water. You stay laying down for a moment, remembering the cramps you had before, and acknowledging the way they’re not piercing anymore. You make a mental reminder for next month.

#my smuts just getting lazier and lazier oops #sergei malikov #imagine #smut #x reader #marvel daredevil #daredevil imagine #daredevil smut #daredevil season one #daredevil one shot #daredevil #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #8-8-18 #writing

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babylon-bitch · 7 years

Text

Just Friends ~ It's a Lesson Learnt (Part 36)

A/N this gif is go random but I love it

Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.

Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.

What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?

Warnings: language, and smut

***

“Maddie knows. ” I tell Luke after everyone leaves my house.

“What, how?” He questions, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I told her, someone recorded everything we said at the shop and they posted it, Maddie found it and of course listened to it. She confronted me about it and I confessed it all to her, she said that she had a pregnancy scare once.” I explain.

“Was she disappointed or disgusted at us?” He questions.

“No, of course not, it’s Maddie.”

“Okay good,” He sighed and collapsed onto his back on my bed. “So this video, can you tell it was us?”

“Pretty much, but it hasn’t gotten much attention.”

Luke nods his head and rubs his face, letting out a groan after.

“If you were pregnant per say, what are you gonna do?” He questions.

“I can’t keep it, I’m eighteen, my life has barely started yet.”

“So let’s say you are pregnant, what method are you gonna uhm, do?” He asks.

“I don’t have a fucking clue, I hardly know what goes into it, I’d have to learn some information and then decide. I know that the pill procedure is quite messy.”

“I’m gonna be with you throughout the whole thing.” He smiles and kisses my hand.

“Well it’s your child.”

Luke pulls me into his chest, one hand playing with my hair, the other going up and down from the top of my jeans to the part where my shirt has ridden up on my hip..

“Remember when we weren’t together? That seems like a life time ago.” He muses.

“I’m surprised it took us that long to actually get together. We’ve gone through a lot though.” I say.

“When we took a break, that really scared me, if we had to take a break that early into our relationship, how far would we ever get?”

“I think that shaped not just us but our relationship. It brought us even closer, if that is possible. I don’t regret it though, I don’t like you to see me like that, although you were on tour and all, you would’ve talked to me and stuff. I know shit got thrown at me when I came back, but it was best for everyone around me. I know some people didn’t understand that at the uhm time, but it was good for me and you guys.”

“When you went off and had a Harper moment, I had a gut feeling that you’d be okay, but with my ‘big brother’ instincts, I freaked the fuck out.”

“Oooh, incest.” I laugh.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” He giggles.

Luke has been like my third big brother, although I’m older than him. Luke’s always been protective of me, ever since we were children.

***

It’s the next day and we are on our way to the hospital. I’m nervous as fuck, clutching onto Luke’s hand for dear life, I just don’t get how he can be so calm about this, I guess one of has to.

We pay the taxi and hop out, making our way into the hospital, being hit with the smell of coffee and cleanliness, almost making me want to gag. “I’ll go to the receptionist desk. ” I inform Luke and he nods whilst sitting down.

I adjust my bag on my shoulder and clutch onto it by my thigh. I take a big breath and walk over. “Hello, I have an appointment at 1:15.”

She nods her head and clicks some stuff on her computer. “Dr. Carter will be ready for you in 5 or 10 minutes, your name will flash up on there.” She points to the small long screen above her.

“Okay, thank you.” I smile and walk back to Luke.

Placing my bag by my feet before taking a seat next to Luke. “We’ve got to wait 5 or 10 minutes till my name pops up on that screen.” I explain.

“Okay.” He nods.

We sit in silence for a bit before two little girls come up to us. “Hello?” I question with a small smile.

“You looked sad so we came to cheer you up.” The oldest one smiles.

The oldest one seems 4 maybe 5 and the little one is about 2, still having a dummy in her mouth. “That’s a very nice thing to do.” Luke smiles at them.

“Why are you sad?” The oldest one asks as the younger one clings onto my legs.

“We have some grown up stuff going on.” I tell them.

“My names Lizzie and this is Abby.” Lizzie says.

“And how old are you guys?” Luke asks.

“I’m 4 and she just turned 2, she can’t walk properly yet so she leans on stuff.” She grins.

Abby let’s out a whine and makes grabby hands, I take that as an indication she wants to come up, so I lift her up and onto the the seat next to me.

“Where are your parents?” Luke questions.

“Mummy has gone to the toilet and my daddy is at home.” Lizzie answers and clings onto Luke and he plays with her hair, a small smile on his lips.

Abby leans herself on my arm and plays with my fingers and rings.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“I’ve got an ear something.” Lizzie pouts.

“Infection?” Luke chuckle.

“Yes!” She nods her head.

“Abby, Lizzie, come on.” A late 20s lady says as she walks up to us. “I’m so sorry, they do this a lot.”

“It’s fine, they were really cute.” I smile. “We’re actually here to see if I’m pregnant.”

“Really?” She questions.

“Yeah, it’s obviously not on purpose, I’m only 18 and he’s 17.” I explain.

“Do you want to be pregnant?” She asks.

“Maybe in a couple of years down the line, but our lives have barely started yet. We’re still in high school.” I explain.

“How old were you when you had your first child?” Luke asks.

“24, she wasn’t exactly planned, but we were at a stable point in our lives that we were able to raise a child.”

“We probably won’t keep him/her, Luke’s off around the world a lot, we simply just don’t have time for a child right now.” I say.

“That’s totally understandable, if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” She shrugs.

“We should probably make our way towards the doctor, my name just flashed up.” I tell her. “It was nice talk in to you guys.”

“You too, good luck.” She grins.

“Thank you, bye.” Luke waves and we stand up hand in hand, and make our way to Dr. Carter.

“Harper White?” He questions as we walk in.

“Yes.” I nod and we sit down.

“So you think you’re pregnant?” He questions.

“I took a test, the first one came out positive and then the second one came out negative.” I explain.

“If you get different results from pregnancy tests, it’s a sign that it’s too early, and a blood test is usually the best way to get an accurate answer.” He explains. “When did the conceiving take place?”

“Couple weeks ago, it was unprotected.” I tell him.

“Okay, I think I’ll have to take a blood test. This will determine your chances with a simple yes or no answer. So could you put your arm out please.” He requests.

I nod and pull my sleeve up, revealing my forearm, he picks up a needle and he puts on a pair of gloves. I’ve never really been scared of needles, I can’t say I enjoy them, but I’m not one to put up a fight against them.

Feeling Luke’s hand on my back as Dr Carter brings the needle towards my arm, inserting it into a vain, and drawing a small amount of blood out. It’s all over in seconds, and before I know it he’s putting on a little plaster where the needle was.

“You guys are planning on having an abortion, I’m assuming?”

“We can’t keep the possible baby, there’s no way we could, we don’t have the time, Luke’s off around the world, I’m going to school soon in another country and we won’t be together. We’re too young, it’s our only choice, really.” I sigh and I feel Luke’s hand trace soothing shapes on my back.

“What are the options for abortion?” Luke asks.

“There’s in-clinic abortion or abortion pill. Suction abortion (also called vacuum aspiration) is the most common type of in-clinic abortion. It uses gentle suction to empty your uterus. It’s usually used until about 14-16 weeks after your last period. Dilation and Evacuation (D&E) is another kind of in-clinic abortion procedure. It uses suction and medical tools to empty your uterus. You can get a D&E later in a pregnancy than aspiration abortion – usually if it has been 16 weeks or longer since your last period.”

“Abortion pill is the popular name for using two different medicines to end a pregnancy: mifepristone and misoprostol. You will be given the first pill, mifepristone, at the clinic. Pregnancy needs a hormone called progesterone to grow normally. Mifepristone blocks your body’s own progesterone. You’ll also get some antibiotics. You take the second medicine, misoprostol, 24-48 hours later, usually at home. This medicine causes cramping and bleeding to empty the uterus. It’s kind of like having a really heavy, crampy period, and the process is very similar to an early miscarriage.”

We both nod and try to take this new information in.

“How long will it take to get the results?” Luke asks

“The blood test takes an average of 3-48 hours to be tested and results to be available. I advise that you come back tomorrow for your results, would you like to schedule an appointment?” He asks.

“Yeah, what time are you available? You are free tomorrow right, Luke?” I ask.

“I won’t be available tomorrow morning, I’m doing some stuff with the boys, but I’m free in the afternoon.” Luke answers.

“Okay, so how about 3:30 tomorrow afternoon?” He offers. “It won’t take long at all, I’ll give you the results then we’’ll discuss what your gonna do; I’m assuming you’re not keeping the possible baby.”

“3:30 is fine with us.” Luke adds.

“Okay then, I guess that brings us to a close for today’s appointment. Unless you have any questions?”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.

“No, thanks for our time and help.” Luke gives Dr Carter a smile, and stands up.

“No problem, just doing my job.” He shakes Luke hand.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” I smile and shake his hand as well.

He gives us one final wave and Luke places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the room.

“Oh my God.” I groan once the door closes.

“It’s gonna be alright, just another experience.”

“Yeah, an experience that I’ve experienced far too early on in life.” I exclaim.

“Come here.” He gestures and I wrap my arms around his slender waist, nuzzling my face into his chest, he wraps an arm round my shoulders and the other round my waist.

“This may not be your/our proudest moment, but it’s just a lesson learnt.” He says into my hair.

***

It’s been a while, the blood test results came back, and it turned out I was pregnant. As soon as I came out the hospital, I broke down crying, thinking my life was over. I was a mess for the next couple of days, I felt kinda bad for Luke because he had to deal with my Niagara Falls ass.

I had my abortion, I went for the in-clinic procedure. Luke has supported me throughout the whole thing, and I couldn’t be any more greatful for him.

It was quite nerve-wracking to go through. My parents found out about it all, surprisingly they weren’t angry, disappointed, or ashamed, in fact they were quite supportive of me. Apparently my mum’s old friend got pregnant at a young age, told her parents about it and they didn’t talk for ages, then she promised herself that if she ever had a daughter that got pregnant at a young age, she would be as supportive as she could be.

I’ve been very lucky to be honest. That video that got out never really got around, only a few retweets and stuff, but people thought it was fake. Life is going really well at the moment, I’ve gotten stronger from this all. It’s been an experience to say the least.

Luke and I are currently hanging out at his place. “Do you wanna cuddle?” He asks.

“No, I know what cuddling means.” I say.

“Not always.” He tells me and nuzzles his nose into my neck.

I play with his hair and go on my phone. Luke starts to trail kisses down my neck, sucking on my collarbone, biting my lip to suppress a whimper.

Disconnecting myself from him and straddle his waist, I connect our lips together. Luke’s hands instantly go to my waist and I hold his neck. Luke licks my bottom lip, asking for entrance, I gladly let him in and part my lips and Luke lets out a groan as I pull his hair.

Luke and I haven’t really had couple time recently, yeah, we got pregnant but we were both so caught up in it all, it was only a hello kiss or a kiss goodbye sometimes a forehead kiss to calm my nerves.

Luke rolls us over so he takes dominance and hovers over me, slowly lowering himself down and grinds his hips into mine, I let out a small moan at the sensation. Luke dives down to my neck and starts kissing and sucking on it, making me whimper. Tilting my head back to give him more access, he makes his way up my neck, using his lips and whispers, “pretty, pretty girl.”

He sucks on my exposed cleavage whilst trailing his hand up my shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his touch. Luke takes my top off and his eyes light up, a smirk present on his face. He trails kisses down my stomach whilst gripping tightly on the bottom of my waist. He finally reaches my jeans and starts unbuttoning them.

“Wait,” I blurt out and Luke looks up at me, confused.

“What?” He questions.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this again.” I confess.

Luke sighs and crawls back up. “C'mon Harps, it’s been ages since we’ve done anything sexual together. I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do, I’d never do that to you.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready to do it yet.” I say.

“We don’t even have to have ‘normal sex’ we could just do oral or something.” He reasons.

“Fine, but please take things slow.” I tell him

“Okay, I’ll be gentle.” He smiles and gives me a kiss.

Luke carries on unbuttoning my jeans and pulls them off. He rubs me through my panties, causing me to bite my lip. His hand teasingly slowly slides into my panties, running his fingers through my folds, collecting the wetness that has already formed. Luke pulls my underwear down and dives straight in, his lips replacing his hands as he licks my folds, working his way up to my clit.

Luke inserts a finger in, causing me to squirm underneath him. He sucks on my clit as if it going out of fashion. Soon enough he enters another digit in and strerches me out, making me let out a moan. Luke’s fingers curl upwards, stroking my g-spot, making me a moaning mess.

His hands and mouth switch jobs so now that he is tongue fucking me as well as rubbing my clit.

Not sure if Luke knows the phrase take things slow.

I feel my climax begin to approach me and I grab onto Luke’s hair and moan out his name. “So close.” I breathe.

Luke slowly goes ground my clit with his fingers, making me huff out in annoyance. He stops the teasing and rubs my clit vigorously and licks the hell out of me, causing my orgasm to rush over me. I throw my head back in pleasure, lost in reality. Luke continues to pump though my orgasm before licking the bits he missed. “Best fucking pussy ever.” He whispers.

***

“Harper have you ever had Preggo pasta sauce?” Erika asks.

“Yeah, I’ve had it a lot in the UK, why?” I ask confused but have got an idea with where she is going with this.

“Erika.” Maddie warns.

“What?” She giggles as she asks.

“You know what, leave it now.” Maddie sighs.

“I’m just gonna come out with it because it’s been killing me not to know.” She excitedly says. “Are you pregnant?”

My eyes widen and Luke and I tense up, I raise an eyebrow and stare at the ground.

“Erika what the fuck did I just say.” Maddie huffs.

“Shut up, I need an answer.”

“Um,” I start off and look up at Luke, who is glaring at Erika annoyed. He looks down at me and shrugs.

“We were pregnant y-yes, that’s all in the past, can we move on from this now?” Luke takes over.

Everyone’s eyes widen, even Maddie’s.

“What? When?” Calum questions.

“A couple of weeks ago, we found out I was pregnant, obviously we couldn’t keep it, so we got an abortion.” I sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Michael asks.

“It was more between Luke and I, I told Maddie about it.” I quietly say.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Erika asks Maddie.

“It’s clearly something between Luke and Harper so I just left it and gave them my advice.” Maddie shrugs.

“What advice could you have?” Ashton questions with a tiny chuckle.

“I had a pregnancy scare before, I’ve only been with a guy once and my period was late, turns out I wasn’t pregnant, spoiler.” She confesses.

“I thought you were still a man virgin.” Calum says.

“It was enough to scare me away from the whole gender.” She laughs.

“I would’ve offered to have a threesome with you guys.” Michael smirks.

“Michael!” Erika hits his arm.

“When ever you’re ready, babe.” He winks at her.

And just like that, our pregnancy is forgotten. We all do that a lot. Not get pregnant, but ignore situations and just fuck around.

“Has anyone ever had a threesome or more here?” Ashton question.

“I’ve had a twosome.” Calum laughs at his own joke.

“Hilarious Calum.” Luke claps his hands.

“At least I didn’t get my girlfriend pregnant.” Calum takes a shot and I burst out laughing.

“That was a cheap shot.” Luke exclaims.

“It was a good shot.” Maddie laughs.

“Rude.” He mutters.

“No, I’ve never done anything more than just myself and another girl.” Michael admits.

“I’ve never done anything more than just myself.” Ashton says.

“Because you can never get girls.” I tell him.

“I am very talented with girls thank you very much, Harper.”

“Really? When was the last time you had a girlfriend?” I question.

“Like a year ago, but that doesn’t matter, I’ve hooked up with a few girls since then, I use my charm.”

“Whats your charm?” I furrow my eyebrows.

“My big dick.” He says and we all laugh.

“Thats disgusting.” Erika grimaced.

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sickficlover · 8 years

Text

Sick Izaya Request

Sooo… it has been a pretty busy week ^_^ I’ve been away for the week-end and I have casting tomorrow…

But anyway this is a fic written on request of an anon who wanted Izaya sick with food poisoning, so here you go ;-) A bit of Shizaya if you squint.

Warning: Description of Vomiting below the cut

***

That Sushi had definitely been spoiled.

Since Russia Sushi was not open at the moment because Simon and his boss were out… doing something, Izaya had been forced to get his beloved ootoro elsewhere. It had tasted a bit off, but the informant had written that off to it being from a different shop.

However now he started to feel decidedly off, his stomach churning a bit and his head starting to swim. Just great. And he had to go meet a client in a few, too. And it was not a client to joke around with, so it was either being killed or going out while being sick.

Not much of choice, Izaya really liked being alive, ‘though he suspected that in a few hours he would wish for someone to kill him. He hoisted himself up from his beloved swivel chair, took his equally beloved jacket and left his apartment.

Not long after going out he started to get worse. His stomach churned more angrily and his head felt light and somewhat distant.

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the symptoms and quickened his pace. The faster he got this done the better. Then another thought came to him: What if he ran into Shizu-chan? The meeting was in Ikebukuro and anytime he went there he was somehow bound to run into the blonde bartender. There was no way he could play with his favourite monster in this condition.

Well, he could deal with that when it actually mattered. Right now his top priority was to get to the meeting and to not pass out in the course of it.

To his considerable surprise, Izaya did neither throw up nor pass out during the meeting with his client, even though it had more than once been a very close call. He had nearly managed half of his way home when he felt a familiar prickle in the neck. Without actually thinking he ducked and thus narrowly avoided being pierced by a street lamp. Well shit.

“Izaaaaayaaaa! How many times have I told you not to show yourself here!” he heard a familiar voice roar. He turned around only to see the blonde bartender lift a vending machine above his head and glower at him from about twenty meters away.

“Ah, Shizu-chan!” he exclaimed, trying to sound the way he normally did even though he could barely see straight from the mounting nausea. “I would love to play with you a little, but – alas – I’m a grown up person and as such I have to attend serious business from time to time.”

Shizuo lowered the vending machine a bit, his facial expression turning into a frown.

“What’s the matter flea? Afraid?” he asked. Izaya groaned inwardly. Shizuo really had animal like instincts or else he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the informant not being perfectly well, because if Izaya could trust anything ‘til the last it were his acting skills.

He decided not to grace the monster with an answer, but to make an escape in instead while the other’s guard was lowered. He flashed Shizuo a smile (which he hoped looked more superior and less pained) and disappeared into the crowed as fast as he could. From what he gathered in his hazed mined, Shizuo was not following him. He let out a relieved sigh and continued his way home as best as he could.

***

When he arrived at the door of his apartment building, Izaya was drenched in cold sweat. The nausea had risen to almost unbearable heights, his head was reeling and his mouth was producing far too much saliva.

He dragged himself into the lift where he leaned against the cool mirror, and then out again and into his apartment. He threw his jacket on the floor, not having enough time to put it away neatly before he dashed towards his bathroom.

He collapsed in front of the toilet and opened the lid. The nausea was coming in waves now; almost making him whimper each time it swelled. He hung his head over the bowl with both arms wrapped around his stomach, and let some saliva drip into the water.

Suddenly a harsh gag had him jerking forwards, followed by another before he had even time to breath, but nothing came up. A sharp cramp tore through his stomach, making him curl in on himself and gasp in pain.

At this point he would have given anything to just be over with it and finally be able to lie down and sleep. He was already considering just shoving his fingers down his throat, but then a sudden forceful retch had him back over the bowl and finally a thin stream of mostly fluids splashed into the water below. He gagged a few more times fruitlessly before another deep heave brought up a thicker stream of water and semi digested sushi and left him panting over the porcelain bowl.

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and looked down on the mess he’d made. How absolutely disgusting! And judging by how nauseous he still felt, it was far from over. He dropped his head against the cool rim of the toilet, curling in on himself even further, trying his best to sooth his stomach.

But sure enough, after what felt like only a few moments, he lurched back over the bowl to bring up more of whatever it was that made him so sick. When he was finally able to sit back again he was panting and clutching at his awfully sore and crampy stomach. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm his breathing when he suddenly remembered the last time he had been this sick.

It had been in middle school, he had come down with the stomach flu and his mother had spent the whole night in the bathroom with him, rubbing his back and whispering soothing stuff.

He felt his eyes burning and something wet running down his cheek. It took him a moment to realise that he – the great Orihara Izaya – was actually crying. He tried desperately to stop, to just will the tight feeling in his chest and throat away, but he just felt so weak from vomiting his guts out and so lonely all of a sudden that he just couldn’t calm down. Finally he gave in to his sorrow and let himself fall to his side on the cold tiles, arms draped over his stomach, drawing his knees to his chest and waiting until it was over.

***

Something had definitely been off about Izaya earlier that day.

Shizuo twisted his cigarette around in his hand, lost in thought. For some reason he had lost his will to fight earlier, something had been different. But he could not pin point what exactly had set him off.

The blonde let out a long sigh and finished his smoke. There was only one way to find out. He had to find the flea again and observe him carefully. Or, if everything was back to normal, beat the hell out of him.

After walking the streets of ‘Bukuro for about an hour he concluded that Izaya, surprisingly, was no longer there. He had to go to the flea’s apartment then.

Shizuo didn’t quite remember when and why he had learned of where the informant lived, but he knew it, so that didn’t matter. When he reached the tall building it was already late in the afternoon. If Izaya was not here, he would just head home and try to forget about it.

The first odd thing Shizuo noticed when he reached the floor on which Izaya resided was that the informant’s door was unlocked and was even slightly ajar. Judging from how careful and paranoid the flea normally was the fact that he’d leave his apartment open for anyone to enter was… disconcerting. Not worrisome, no, because that would mean Shizuo did worry about the flea. Which he didn’t.

The blonde carefully entered the flat and immediately spotted Izaya’s jacket on the floor near the entrance. So the flea was either home, or he had been kidnapped by burglars.

The open living room was empty and Shizuo was just about to go upstairs to look for the flea’s bedroom when he heard a small sound from what he had assumed to be the bathroom.

He carefully made his way to the door, opened it – and found a black haired bundle lying on the floor in front of the toilet in a foetal position. The whole room stank of vomit, but what was really weird was the sound that had alerted Shizuo to the dark haired’s whereabouts. A soft, but violent sobbing that came from the trembling form on the floor.

Shizuo crossed the distance between them quickly (no he was not worried, more like… mildly concerned) and went on one knee next to Izaya. He lay on hand on the flea’s shoulder, which caused the informant to startle violently and look up at him in shock.

“Sh-sh-shizu-chan,” he whispered, voice hoarse from the vomiting, and a fearful look entered his eyes. “Wha-what are you d-doing here? H-how did y-you get in?”

Shizuo took a moment to answer. He was awestruck by how vulnerable Izaya looked right now, lying on the floor, face white as a sheet and sweaty with red rimmed, swollen eyes.

“You left the door open,” he then said, before adding more to himself: “So you were sick…”

Izaya closed his eyes and turned his head again, apparently understanding that Shizuo would not hurt him right now.

“F-food poisoning. A-as much as I-I loathe it, I a-am still hu-human, Shizu-chan,” he breathed, sounding exhausted. “We c-can’t all b-be m-monsters…”

Shizuo frowned slightly, but then reached out to flush the toilet and get rid of the stench. He couldn’t quite explain why he did what he did next; he simply acted on instinct as he often did.

He scooped up Izaya’s limp form, ignoring the yelp of surprise and slight panic coming from the dark haired informant, who otherwise did nothing to resist, and carried him up the stairs and towards what he guessed was the flea’s bedroom.

There he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed where Izaya immediately curled in on himself, eyes closed, hands still clutching his stomach.

Shizuo draped a blanket over the small pile of misery. He looked around himself and spotted a small trash can in one corner which he then took and placed next to the bed before getting a small glass of water and setting it on the night table.

He stood a minute, scratching his head and trying to process what he had just done when he heard a soft whisper coming from the informant’s huddled form.

“Thank you, Shizu-chan.”

He felt himself go red.

“Whatever flea,” he grumbled. “Just get better so that I can kill you.”

Then he turned around and left.

#durarara #izaya orihara #heiwajima shizuo #sickfic #food poisoning #vomiting #crying #a bit of shizaya

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