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minkyungseokie · 2 months

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Racing for Two | James Vowels

synopsis; James wants Y/n to stay home since she's ready to pop at any moment, but she wants to be there to support her grid children

warnings; pregnancy, there’s a ten-year-gap between James and reader (34 and 44)

note; requested

note2; still not very happy with James after he benched my boy Logan because Alex crashed, but I'm still gonna write for him. I added a part where he finds out

I’m am not knowledgeable enough about pregnancy as I’ve never been pregnant, so she gets over her morning sickness pretty quickly. I also apologize because this went in a different direction than where I meant for it to

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | James Masterlist

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Y/n groaned, hand on her stomach.

The woman had woken up feeling odd and as soon as she stood up, she had become nauseous. That led her to where she was now, bent over the toilet and puking her guts out, "Are you okay, love?" James questioned, entering the bathroom worriedly, crouching down behind her and putting a hand on her back.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. I might just have come down with a bug. Or I ate something bad." Y/n waved off his concern, "Are you sure?" James asked, "Yeah, I'm fine. Can you help me up?" Y/n asked, holding her hand out for James to grab. James grabbed the hand Y/n was holding out and helped her up, "Darling, if you're not feeling well, you don't have to come with me to the track. You can stay here and rest." James said, "James, I'm fi—"

Y/n turned and rushed to hunch over the toilet again, "I think you should stay here. You aren't feeling well and it's only free practice." James insisted, "But I want to see Alex, Logan, Oscar, and Lando. You know they've been looking forward to seeing me." Y/n groaned. "I'm sure they'll understand that you're not feeling well. If you feel better by tomorrow, you can join us for FP3 and Quali." James promised.

Y/n groaned again, "Fine. I'll stay here, but I'm ordering room service." She sighed, standing up and picking up her toothbrush. James walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her temple, "I'm sorry, I know you wanted to cheer your...grid kids on, but you're not feeling well. Your health is more important than anything, dear." James muttered, lips still pressed against Y/n's temple.

Y/n huffed and spat out the foam, "I guess you're right. It's only qualifying, I'll be able to join you Sunday." The woman agreed. She turned in James' arms and wrapped her arms around him, "It's okay. Order yourself something when you're hungry and make sure to get some rest, okay?" James asked, "Okay." Y/n agreed.

"I have to go now, but I'll send someone to check on you." James spoke, gathering his things, "I'll be fine, love. Have a good day. I love you." Y/n hummed, gently pulling James down by the back of his neck, "I love you too." James said, pressing his lips to hers, "Make sure you eat."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Give the boys luck from me, yeah?" Y/n let out, walking towards the bed they shared and lying down, "I will." James assured, walking out of the hotel.

Y/n picked up the phone and ordered something light to eat as she wasn't as hungry as she usually was. "Some toast and turkey bacon should be sufficient," Y/n mumbled, putting the phone back onto the receiver. Y/n sat back with a sigh, reaching for the remote to turn on a show while she waited for the food to arrive.

Once it arrived, Y/n opened the door and took the food from the woman at the door. The smell of the food hit her nose and she began to feel nauseous until she had to drop the plate and run to the bathroom, "Ma'am? Ma'am, are you okay?" The employee asked, running into the restroom after her. The employee rubbed Y/n's back, "Ma'am are you sick? Do you need me to get anything?" She asked sweetly, "No, I'm good. I think I might be coming down with something. Although, I don't feel sick other than the vomiting." Y/n panted.

The employee's eyes widened and she began to look around, spotting signs of another person, "Ma'am, are you here with someone?" The woman, whose nametag read Kaila, asked. "My husband. Why? You don't need to call him. I'm only throwing up." Y/n assured, "Oh, no. I-- That's ...that's not what I meant. You are throwing up, but you don't seem to have a fever. You threw up at the smell of your food... There's only one thing I can think of." Kaila said. "What?" Y/n asked, "Hold on. I'm going to go get something. I'll knock on the door." Kaila informed before walking out of the hotel room, "What the fuck?" Y/n muttered.

She stood up and cleaned up the food that had fallen in her rush to get to the bathroom, "What do I eat now?" Y/n huffed, throwing the food in the trash and putting the plate on the dresser near the door.

Y/n sat back onto the bed and grabbed the remote again, "I guess I'll just have to watch some television until my stomach settles." Y/n sighed.

Y/n had forgotten that the employee had told her that she would be coming back until ten minutes later, when there was a knock on the door. "Hello, ma'am. I'm sorry for intruding like this, but I've bright you some stuff." Kaila rushed into the room, seeing the black plastic bag she had in her hand. "Pardon me, but this is highly inappropriate behavior. I—" Y/n started, "I know that this is unprofessional behavior of me, but I realized something." Kaila said, pulling out a few boxes.

"What are— Are...are those pregnancy tests?" Y/n asked, "Yes, I have been through this before. Believe it or not, I'm a mother of three, so I think I'm able to realize when one might be pregnant. Now that I look at you, you are kind of glowing. Go to the bathroom and take these." Kaila ordered, shoving the tests into Y/n's hands, "But I don't need to pee." Y/n protested.

Kaila sighed and left the room, coming back with bottles of water on her hands, "There you go. Drink and pee. I'll leave it to you. Have a good day, ma'am." Kaila placed the waters on the dessert and rushed out of the room. "What the hell was that?" Y/n questioned, looking at the door in confusion before looking at the water bottles.

With a sigh, Y/n snatched a water bottle and began drinking it slowly so she wouldn't throw it up immediately. As soon as she needed to use the restroom, she grabbed one of the boxes and took the test. "Now to wait." Y/n hummed, placing the test in the sink and setting a timer on her phone. It would be a few hours until James came back, so she wouldn't have to worry about him coming back and catching her before she was ready.

What was she going to do if she was pregnant? She knew that she and James weren't getting any younger and if they were to have children, it'd have to be before she turned at least forty. How would James feel about having a child? Y/n knew he'd want one, but they didn't really talk about when they wanted.

The timer went off, snapping Y/n out of her thoughts. Y/n stood up, taking a deep breath and entering the bathroom. She picked up the test with the screen upside down, "Whatever it is, I'm going to accept it. I'm going to be happy even if I'm not pregnant." Y/n assured herself before flipping the test over.

Pregnant

Y/n covered her mouth, tears welling up within her eyes and a lump sticking in her throat, "Holy shit. I'm pregnant. I'm having a baby!" Y/n cheered, holding the test to her chest. She was worried about how James would react, but at the same time, she was too excited to care. It would devastate her if James didn't want the baby, but she wasn't going to get rid of it. She was sweet on grabbing and raising the child, even if she has to do it by herself.

"Screw this." Y/n said, grabbing her purse, a jacket, and ordered an Uber. She wasn't planning on waiting to tell James about their growing family. She didn't want to wait, she wanted to share her joy with her husband immediately and maybe even her surrogate grid children.

She excitedly hopped out of the Uber and made her way towards the paddock entrance with her pass around her neck. "Hey, Mrs. Vowels!" A Aston Martin engineer greeted, "Hey!" Y/n greeted back. Y/n rushed through the paddock, not pausing for anyone, but making sure to greet anyone who greeted her. "James!" Y/n called out to her husband, who was talking with her grid children, Logan and Alex.

"Mama Vowels! I thought you were feeling sick." Logan greeted, hugging Y/n, "We thought you wouldn't be here. James told us that you were sick." Alex added also hugging Y/n. "I did, but..." Y/n dig into her purse and pulled out the test, "I wanted to tell you this as soon as possible."

James took a tissue and grabbed the test, "My love, are you... you're—" "I'm pregnant!" Y/n interrupted. James pulled his wife to his chest and kissed her while Logan and Alex cheered in a very Logan and Alex way. “Congratulations!” A few engineers cheered as the couple embraced each other, “Come here.” Y/n beckoned, pulling the two into the hug.

“Why are we hugging? What’s everyone cheering for?” The familiar voice of Lando Norris spoke up. The group broke apart and looked to Y/n, who had tears streaming down her face. Y/n held up the test, “We’re having a baby!” She said, “Congratulations!” Lando’s quiet Aussie teammate finally spoke up, “That’s amazing. Congratulations.” Lando said, giving the soon-to-be mother a big smile.

“I’m going to have another kid.” Y/n breathed, “What do you mean another?” Alex questioned, “You four are my kids. What do you mean? I’ve shipped you as soon as I met you guys.” Y/n said as if it was obvious.

“Well, I’m happy to be apart of your family.”

Y/n stepped out of the car with the help of her husband, clad in maternity clothing and her stomach protruding. "You know that you could've stayed home." James told her, putting a hand on her back to make sure she was okay while walking, "I know that I don't have to, but you're in the UK, so why would I not come and support my boys?" Y/n asked, rolling her eyes as she waddled into the paddock.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be here seeing as you look like you're about to pop any second." Lando joked, jogging up to them as they passed the McLaren garage with Oscar trailing behind. "I didn't want to miss your home race, Lando. Even if "I'm about to pop" I'd never miss out for the world." Y/n tittered, before groaning. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" James questioned, "It's nothing. My feet just feel like they're on fire." Y/n answered.

"You can sit in the McLaren garage if you need to." Oscar offered, "I think you should, love. You can come to the Williams garage when you feel like you can walk without your feet hurting." James said. "Thank you, boys, but I'll be fine. I think I make it to Williams. I want to be with my husband." Y/n rejected, "Are you sure? I don't mind walking to the garage alone. You can go rest." James reassured.

"No, I want to be with you. If I do go into labour, I want to be nearby." Y/n explained, "Okay, then shall we get you to the garage?" James questioned, guiding Y/n to the Williams garage and immediately getting a chair for her to sit. "Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?" James inquired, "Can I have some ice cream if we have any?" Y/n asked, "I'll go get that for you." James said, kissing Y/n's forehead.

"Thank you." Y/n said, watching James walk away, "Hey, Mama Vowels. How are you feeling?" Alex asked, holding a bottle of water out for her. "I'm swollen and in pain, but I'm happy to be here." Y/n answered happily, "Your due date is near isn't it? Are you sure it's safe for you to be here when your water can break at any moment?" Logan asked. "You both are worth it. I can give birth at any moment, yes, but I'm not going to miss you both racing." Y/n

scoffed playfully.

As James was coming back, Y/n felt a tightening sensation within her abdomen, "I got your ice cream." James announced, holding the packaged ice cream out for Y/n, "Are you okay, Mama Vowels?" Logan asked, bending down as the woman stared ahead of her blankly. "Mama Vowel?" Alex called, "Love?" James spoke, putting a hand on her shoulder. Y/n then felt a pop and what felt like a waterfall gushing down her leg. Y/n looked up at her husband with widened eyes and a slack jaw.

"My water broke."

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cas-kingdom · 3 months

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The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

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train-wrecc · 1 year

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Champagne Problems 2

marcus baker x female!miller!reader

warnings: mentions of vomit, nausea, mentions of food, panic attacks, i think that’s all…

fluff with a sprinkle of angst?

word count: 4.5k

italics = sign language

A/N: this will probably be a series bc i wanna add more to this :) i would've posted this earlier but i was struggling to edit the lil collage below 😭 also, i feel like the first one was better but i tried :/ & i will try to dedicate more time to writing bc recently i’ve been gaming a lot more + struggling to write an essay but anyways… try to enjoy?

unedited!

part 1 part 3

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You thought the Baker's reaction to your pregnancy would be worse. However, when both you and Marcus signed the words while simultaneously voicing that you were pregnant, they both wore a look of shock on their face, Max sitting on the couch with a wide grin. She practically threw herself at you and Marcus, pulling you both into a tight embrace.

“Oh my god, I-I don’t know what to say…” Ellen murmured, causing you to slightly frown, and Marcus to squeeze your hand in reassurance. Clint signed, “Well, at least I’ll be a young Grandpa,” He chuckled. Which caused a slight smile to grow on your face. “I wouldn’t say that this is the most ideal time for a baby, seeing as you both are so young, but just know you have our support, in whatever you choose to do. Being a grandma doesn’t sound too bad, the baby can call me Glamma!” Ellen began to ramble.

After you had told them your decision, they let you know that they’d be there for both of you, every step of the way. You felt the weight being lifted from your shoulders, pulling Marcus into a hug. You knew that you still had a long way to go, and you’d have to figure out how to raise a baby, where to raise your baby, and a lot more, albeit you had Marcus and he had you.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You woke up due to nausea causing you to run to your bathroom, and fill the toilet with vomit. You felt a hand holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail, another on your back, rubbing soothingly. You knew immediately that it was your mother. Her presence seemingly relaxed you. “It’s okay, baby, let it out,” She murmured gently, her voice slightly rough due to the fact that she had just woken up.

Once you were done spilling your guts, you pulled away from the toilet, the horrid smell of vomit hitting your nose, causing you to once again reach for the toilet. After you were finished, you slammed the toilet lid shut, leaning your head against it, a sigh escaping your lips.

You sat there for a moment, before getting up, your mother helping you up, you quickly rinsed your mouth with mouthwash, following it up by brushing your teeth, as you tried to rid yourself of the taste of bile.

“Come on, why don’t you go get some more rest, darlin’,” Your mom ushered you to your room, tucking you into bed before placing a kiss on your head. You smiled at her before turning to face the window. You reached for your phone, debating on texting Marcus. However, when you saw that it was 4:30 am, you decided against it, not wanting to wake him up. You gazed out your window as you tried to go back to sleep. However, you couldn’t, you tossed and turned, the moonlight shining in your room, seeing as it was still dark out. Suddenly your window was thrown open, and a figure fell onto the wooden flooring of your room. You immediately sat up, slightly frightened before you heard the slight murmur of a “Shit,”.

You turned your bedside lamp on, “Marcus?” You questioned the boy, “What are you doing here?” You gazed at him curiously. “Georgia told me you were up because of morning sickness, so I thought I’d come over, not only because she practically threatened me but because I wanted to see how you and the baby are doing.” He tiredly smiled, eyes slightly drooping.

A gargantuan smile broke out on your face, a giggle escaping your lips, before you patted your bed, so he’d come to lay with you. “You didn’t have to come over, but thank you. And excluding the morning sickness, we’re doing just fine.” You responded, your hand finding its way to your flat stomach, which would soon be not-so-flat with a baby bump. Marcus placed his own hand atop yours, “I know, but I wanted to,” He grinned, before gently placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, cuddling you. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” He murmured. “I know,” You said, laying your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent, you let out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. “Nothing, it’s just… I’m just kinda nervous about the appointment tomorrow- well, technically today.”

One of his hands left your waist, placing it atop your head. “Everything’s gonna go great, we’ve nothing to worry about, alright?”

“I know, I think it’s just cause, y’know it’s our first appointment…”

“Yeah, well let’s get some more sleep, everything’s gonna be okay, promise.” He smiled, before placing another kiss on your lips, causing you to smile against his lips. You pulled away, turning to shut off your bedside lamp. Out of the corner of his eye, your night light caught Marcus’s attention. He refrained from shutting it off, even though it slightly bothered him because he knew the gradual change of colors helped lull you to sleep, and you and the baby were the most important things in his life.

Marcus had drifted slightly away from you throughout the night- morning, which woke you up not even an hour later. You let out a whine, turning to find him practically at the edge of the bed, you scooted closer to him wrapping an arm and leg around his waist, the contact instantly relaxing you allowing you to drift off to sleep once again.

Marcus had gotten up a while before you, at around 9:30. Your doctor's appointment was at 12:30, so he figured he’d let you rest for another hour, while he went downstairs to make you a good, nutritional breakfast for you and the baby. He looked online and discovered that he should make you oatmeal, and decided he’d pair it with your favorite fruit and juice. Marcus placed your breakfast on a bed tray, making his way upstairs to your room, before running into Ginny and Austin. “Hey, I made some oatmeal, you guys can go ahead and get some, while I give this to your sister,” They both nodded in response, a small smile on their faces, Austin saying thanks.

Marcus opened the door to your room, placing the bed tray with your nutritious breakfast at the foot of the bed. He made his way toward you, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you. “Princess, wake up I made you breakfast.” He gently voiced in an attempt to get you up. You grumbled slightly in your sleep, nuzzling your head closer to his hand. “Come on baby, it’s time to get up and eat, we gotta get you ready for your appointment,” He kissed your cheek, caressing the other one. You stirred, eyes slightly opening. Your eyes met Marcus’s brown ones staring at you with nothing but love and pure adoration, a small grin grew on your face.

“Hi, bub.”

“Morning, princess, you sleep well?” He laughed.

“Mhmm, amazing with you beside me.” You smiled at him, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. You stayed like that for a moment, as he returned the kiss, before quickly pulling away, nausea once again rising in you. “Oh god,” You murmured, getting up and making your way to the bathroom as fast as you could. Marcus was quick on your toes, as you lifted the toilet lid and threw up. Marcus gently held your hair away from your face, caressing your back.

You pulled away, throat and back aching. “I’m so done with this morning sickness,” You groaned out. “I wish I could make it stop.” Marcus said, to which you responded with, “It’s okay, it’ll all be worth it,” You smiled at him. You went through the process of cleaning your teeth and mouth of the taste of vomit, before pulling Marcus into a tight hug. “I love you. Thank you for being here for me and the baby.”

“It’s the very least, the minimum I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub.” He replied, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and the baby can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness.

“It’s the very least, the minimum, I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub. After all, you didn’t impregnate yourself.” He replied with a grin, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and bub can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, love, we appreciate you so much,” You said, your hand gently caressing your stomach which would soon have a bump, a sign of your healthily growing baby.

“Don’t thank me anymore, I’m just doing my part in making sure you and our baby are taken care of,” He insisted.

“Thank you,” You stubbornly insisted, a giggle escaping your lips. Marcus was about to lecture you once again before you shut him up with a kiss.

Marcus returned the kiss, as he pulled you closer to him, both of you melting into the adulation-filled kiss.

He pulled away, a whimper escaping your lips as you chased his own. “One more kiss, please?” You whined.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He muttered, allowing you to press your lips against his own once again.

Once again, you eagerly kissed him, before he pulled away. “Alright, no more kisses until you eat your breakfast, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically.

Marcus guided you back to bed where your bowl of oatmeal sat on the breakfast tray, along with your favorite juice.

“Come on, baby, eat your oatmeal before it gets cold or else I’m gonna feed it to you myself.”

You sat down, stubbornly crossing your arms, “I was gonna eat it, but because you said that, now you get to feed it to me yourself.”

He sat in front of you a laugh escaping his lips, “Fine by me,” He responded.

Marcus grabbed the spoon scooping oatmeal into it before lifting it to your lips. As you were about to eat the oatmeal, Marcus moved his hand, oatmeal getting smeared on your nose.

“Oops, I didn’t mean to do that, love, I’m sorry.” Marcus let out a quiet laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I think I deserve another kiss as compensation,” You murmured, Marcus giving into your wants as per usual.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Once you finished your oatmeal, you and Marcus got ready to go to your ultrasound. You insisted on doing your makeup because you wanted to look good to see your baby for the first time.

“Love, you already look amazing,”

“I know, but I wanna look even more amazing,” You said with a small grin.

“Alright, do you want me to braid your hair for you, while you do your makeup?”

“Pretty please,”

Marcus had been practicing braiding your hair, along with doing other styles as well, because he refused to be one of those dads that didn’t know how to style their daughter's hair.

Marcus nodded, standing behind you, “Alright, what do you want, French, Dutch?”

(A/N: I think you can dutch braid most hair types like curly, wavy, straight, and really tight curls, so I decided to keep this part in, if you have really short hair I guess this might not apply to you sorry! Imagine whatever braid/style you want!)

“You choose, baby,”

He decided on doing two Dutch braids, liking the way you looked with them. “And… done!” He said tying the end of the braid with a hair tie. “How do they look?”

“Wow, they look really good, bub, thank you,” You smiled at him, looking at the practically perfectly done braids.

“Your welcome, love, are you ready now?”

“Yup,”

“Alright, let’s start heading downstairs.”

You both made your way downstairs, running into Austin and Ginny in the living room, ever since you booked your ultrasound, they’d been begging to go with you and Marcus, and you just couldn’t say no to them.

“You guys ready?” You questioned them, and they both jumped up practically buzzing with excitement as soon as they heard your voice. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for you two to hurry up!” Ginny exclaimed. “Alright… where’s Mom?” You asked. “Dunno,” Austin shrugged.

You let out a small sigh, before calling out for Georgia. “I’m comin’!”

“Mom, we gotta go before we're late!” You called back. You heard footsteps on the stairs, before your mom, Georgia, appeared on the landing looking extra as ever, as per usual. Suddenly Max barged in, “Oh my gosh, guys, this is it, is everyone ready?! I’m so excited, let’s go, go!”

Max and Ginny ended up riding with Georgia, and Austin insisted on riding with you and Marcus.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Everyone sat cramped in the small appointment room, with you sitting on the examination table, Marcus holding your hand, as he stood next to you. Everyone was talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time, however, as soon as the ultrasound tech walked in everyone went silent.

“Wow, it looks like we have a party in here!” She laughed, in an attempt to break the silence.

“Yeah, everyone really wanted to come with us.” You replied, giving a small smile to the woman.

“Well, it’s no problem at all, now, why don’t we get started? I assume you’re the father?” She gestured to Marcus, this prompted Max to pipe in, “Oh him? That’s so funny!” She laughed, “No, no, I’m the father.” She nodded seriously causing you to giggle quietly.

“Oh, uh…alright, we do get a lot of interesting couples in here.” The woman chuckled awkwardly.

“She-she’s kidding that’s- I’m the father.” Marcus nodded.

“Oh, okay…” She quietly answered.

“Alright, if you could just lay down for me, and lift your shirt a little just to expose your stomach, so I can apply the gel.” You nodded, doing as she said.

“Okay, it’s gonna feel a little cold,” She murmured before she applied the gel, “Now, this just helps the machine produce a clearer image as well as sound,” You slightly shivered as the cool gel met your skin.

(A/N: Idk what I’m saying tbh, just go with it…)

“Alrighty,” She grabbed the ultrasound probe, placing it on the skin where the gel had just been placed, “This can take a few moments to produce an image of the fetus,” She explained, moving the probe back and forth.

You simply nodded, as everyone intensely gazed at the ultrasound screen, just waiting for something to pop up. “So, it looks like you’re around 10 weeks pregnant, does that sound about right?”

You and Marcus nodded before she continued on, “So, because this is your first pregnancy, your bump can take a while to start showing, but you should start showing at around 12 weeks,”

“Now, I can’t seem to find- ah, there they are, oh my-”

“What, i-is something wrong?” You blurted out, beginning to sit up, worry immediately filling you as you gazed at the image displayed on the screen of the machine, Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that honey, it’s just- congratulations, you’re having twins!” She grinned.

“Twins?” Everyone exclaimed.

“Oh my god, we're having twins,” Marcus exclaimed, turning to you, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You both pulled away, tears in your eyes.

“So, I’m seeing two placentas, this just means the twins are fraternal, not identical, right now the babies are about the size of a strawberry, now let me see if I can find their heartbeats,” She once again moved the ultrasound probe back and forth.

“Aww, there just two little twin strawberries hanging out in your uterus,” Max exclaimed in the background, causing Georgia to laugh and Austin to question what a uterus was. Ginny attempted to explain it to the young boy without explaining too much, resulting in Austin understanding that a uterus was your tummy. “I have oatmeal in my uterus,” He told Ginny. Which prompted everyone to burst out laughing. “I’ll just explain it when you’re older,” Ginny murmured.

A small yet strong thumping began emitting from the machine. “There they are, so far so good, the heartbeats sound nice and strong, the placentas seem to be forming properly, and everyone appears to be nice and healthy.” She smiled as tears escaped your eyes as you listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat, “Sorry,” You gave a teary-eyed smile to the woman in apology, Marcus gently wiped your tears with his thumb, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were so happy your babies were healthy, but never in a million years did you think you’d be having twins. That was twice the crying, twice the cost, twice the feeding, and bathing. You tried not to show it but you were stressed. You and Marcus were going to raise not just one baby, but two small innocent humans, who were dependent on both of you.

“Don’t worry, almost every single parent cries when they first see their baby, in your case babies,” She grinned, grabbing an antiseptic wipe to remove the gel from your stomach. “Well, I’m gonna print the sonogram images for you, before I forget to mention it on your way out don’t forget to schedule you’re next appointment, we recommend you come in at least every 4 weeks.”

“Yes, we will do that, thank you,” You responded, pulling your shirt down, to its normal resting place now that the sonogram was over.

You sat up from your lying position, “I-I’m gonna go use the restroom,” You hurriedly murmured, before walking out of the room. You let out a breath, searching for the restroom, once you spotted it you quickly made your way to it. You slammed the door shut, locking it, taking a few more deep breaths in an attempt to not panic.

Albeit all you could think about was the twins in your uterus. Which caused you to slightly panic and spiral. But you were carrying twins you can’t panic, that’s not good for the baby. Before you knew it you were sitting on the restroom floor, having a panic attack. “I c-an’t do… t-this,” You quietly stuttered out through your tears, as they continued to cascade down your face. You tried to calm yourself down again but failed.

Suddenly a knock sounded from the other side of the door, “Bub, are you okay in there?” You heard Marcus question. “Mhm,” You managed to get out, a whimper escaping, as you tried to hide your sobs. “Baby, let me in, I can tell you’re not okay, please,” He quietly said through the door, his head leaning against it.

“Okay,” You sniffled as you stood up, unlocking the door, and allowing Marcus to walk in.

He immediately pulled you into a hug at the sight of you in distress. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked as you clung to him, tears rolling down your cheeks still. You attempted to get the words out, however, you’re breathing was too quick and uneven for you to get anything out. “Baby, you need to calm down okay? Listen to my heartbeat, and just follow my breathing, okay?” He told you in a questioning manner, pulling you in tighter, wanting to somehow squeeze out whatever was causing your tears.

You nodded, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his calm heartbeat. Somehow listening to his relaxed heartbeat and being in his arms soothed you, following as he took a deep breath in and exhaled. Both of you stood there for a moment, a comforting silence enveloping you.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Marcus shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for baby, just please tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s just- we’re having twins, Marcus, I mean, I was scared shitless when I found out I was pregnant with a baby, but now we’re gonna have two. I mean we’re barely gonna graduate, and I mean- how can we afford two babies!? I know you have your job, but- this is two babies, not just one anymore! And where are we gonna live? With my mom? Your parents? A-and what about college? I-I don’t know how you’re not freaking out, w-why aren’t you freaking out?”

Marcus simply smiled at you, “Because I love you, Y/n Miller, and I know no matter what, as long as I have you, and our families, we’re gonna be alright. We’ll figure everything out, I promise you,” He said his hands now gently holding your face in his hands, so you could look at him. “Just please don’t stress about this, it’s not good for you, or our precious cargo,” He grinned.

“You’re crazy.” You stared at him and all his calmness, causing him to laugh.

“Crazy in love with you? Yes, very much.”

“I probably look a mess now,” You said with a slight hint of sadness, as you fell into his arms once again.

“Well, if you look like a mess, then you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s a compliment, come on,” He said, pulling you toward the mirror.

“See, still stunning, as always.” He told you, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Wow, my makeup looks pretty good still…” You said, grabbing a paper towel and patting the tear tracks away.

“That’s all you baby,”

“No, I think it’s that new setting spray I got.” You smiled lightly.

Another knock echoed off the restroom walls interrupting you, followed by Ginny’s voice, “Y/n/n are you okay in there? You’ve been gone a while… Marcus was supposed to come get you but he probably got lost, he’s kinda an idiot-” she was interrupted by a squeaky voice speaking up, “Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say, Ginny.” Austin said.

“I mean, is she lying though?” Max questioned.

“Honey, you alright?” Your mom called out after, as you and Marcus tried to contain your laughs.

“Maybe she’s not in there,” Max murmured.

You opened the door, being met with your family huddled around the door, “I’m fine guys, just a little worried, and hormonal, but besides that, fine.” You gave them a reassuring smile.

“Well, come on then, we gotta set up you’re next appointment,” Georgia said, nodding toward the front desk.

You all began walking toward the desk as you overheard Marcus, “Thanks for sticking up for me bud,”

Austin nodded, “You’re welcome, Ginny’s just a big old grump.”

“You’re right about that, Max too,” He replied teasingly, causing both girls to roll their eyes as you laughed at the conversation taking place.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You texted Padma images of the ultrasound seeing as she wasn’t able to make it. She congratulated you, her messages filled with love and excitement. Seeing as it was Saturday, the rest of the day was spent with your families, Clint and Ellen joining everyone at your house. They both sat in amazement as they stared at the sonogram images of your little strawberry twins.

“Wow, two healthy babies! We’re gonna have our hands full, again!” Clint signed.

“I know, I wonder if it’s because you and Maxine are twins Marcus,” Ellen murmured.

“Actually the ultrasound tech said something about it affecting ovulation, so Max would be twice as likely to have twins than me, or if one of our babies is a girl, she’d be more likely too. We just got lucky, I guess,” Marcus explained to his parents.

“Alright, remind me to never try for kids then, we don’t need two pairs of twins running around. That’s chaos is what that is.” Max laughed.

“I mean I’m sure you guys will be fine though,” She smiled awkwardly.

“Well, I can’t just wait to meet our little twins!” Georgia spoke, as you were all lounging around in the living room.

“Were they able to tell if they’re gonna be identical or fraternal? I don’t remember how many weeks I was when they were able to tell us, with Max and Marcus.” Ellen asked, Clint nodding in support of the question.

“They’re fraternal, thankfully, I don’t know how we would do it if they were identical. I mean we’d probably mix them up while they’re babies…” You answered while signing.

“There are actually a few tricks to tell them apart when they’re babies, like name bracelets or, painting their toenail a certain color, stuff like that,” Ellen responded.

“Yeah, and you guys might need to use some of those tricks, I mean, Max and Marcus looked almost identical when they were babies,” Clint informed you.

“Well then,” You smiled nervously, leaning into Marcus's arms even more. He rested his chin on the top of your head, as you sighed into his neck, beginning to feel slightly tired.

“You feel alright?”

“Mhm, just a little tired…”

“Wanna go nap for a little bit?”

“No, it’s okay, we can hang out down here a little longer if you want.”

“Y/n/n don’t make me drag you upstairs, if you’re tired, go nap,” Ginny said seriously.

“Yes, ma’am, I guess I’ll see everyone later,” You said, before Marcus helped you up and to your room. He closed your curtains to block the evening sun, before pulling the sheets back, allowing you to get into bed. You lay down, letting out a sigh in comfort, patting beside you for Marcus to join you.

He gladly obliged, cuddling you once he laid down. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his calming and comforting scent. “You feel a little bit better about having twins?”

“Yeah, especially since your parents have experience in that department, I still can’t believe it.”

“I know, we’re having twins,” He murmured.

“Yup, I wonder what gender they’ll be…” You mumbled.

“Me too, but as long as they’re healthy, that’s all that matters.” He said as he caressed your back with his hands, rubbing it soothingly.

“Mhmm,” You hummed, you’re breathing slowing as you began to fall asleep.

“Love you, bub,” You sleepily muttered.

“I love you too,” Marcus responded before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, “Sweet dreams, baby.” He whispered as you drifted off.

He pulled you closer to him as he began to drift off as well. Your favorite place was in his arms and his favorite place was you.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: there are alot of like nicknames in this, lmk which one y'all think marcus would call the reader bc i really am unsure, also how do we feel about "princess" i think it's cute but ik it gives some ppl the ick... anyways have a great rest of your day/night/morning! 💞

299 notes · View notes

prettyboypistol · 11 months

Note

Mercs comforting m!reader who had an absolutely godawful day at work/on the battlefield?

Tf2 Mercs Comforting You After A Stressful Day! || TF2 x Male! Reader

Readers job is ambiguous, but I imagined he has a job a lot like Ms Pauling

Scout

Notices how exhausted you look as soon as you walk into the room and immediately drags you to the couch to snuggle.

Super attentive, eager to please. (He especially loves praise from you when you're tired.. idk!!! It just makes him so happy for you in your tired voice to thank him!!!)

Gets your favorite snack foods alone so you have time to yourself.

Wants to cheer you up by talking, but he knows that the last thing you need rn is more chatter.

Bro the leg bouncing of trying not to talk is STRONG

Medic

"Oh dear, wanna bitch?"

Lets you complain and shittalk your co-workers and totally not gossiping with you noooo (he is the nosiest mf alive)

FOREHEAD KISSES FOREHEAD KISSES

He has a bit of a temper if you talk on and on about how your job is hard and will snap that being a Medic isn't exactly a cakewalk either, but apologizes.

Lets you sleep while he makes dinner for you.

Soldier

He.. well, he tries.

You walk into your room and flop down on the bed with a groan and he immediately asks what's wrong and if you're sick.

When you say you're not and just tired, he waves it off and goes back to what he was doing, ordering you to be at ease.

When people knock at your door to pester you, he shouts at them for you to fuck off 🥺🥺🥺

Doesn't snuggle but absolutely gives you space to de-stress.

Engineer

THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS THE BEST LISTENER. BEST.

He sees you walk in and hugs you, sits you in his lap for snuggles, and just listens to you vent as he tinkers against your back.

He kisses your shoulders a lot and hums Lil tunes to calm you down.

Mans will put you to sleep with one lullaby I swear to god

Back scratches!!!! He is the best!!!

Spy

Offers you booze and is sorta like medic in the shittalking regard, but brings up more dirt on the people you're pissed at.

Coos at you in French, calling you a tired boy and mon petit roi (my little king) as baby talk. Yeah it's a little demeaning bUT you're too tired to care.

Little do you know he has been up for 36 hours and hasn't eaten since breakfast but he won't tell you that.

Massages with lavender oil!

Orders your favorite takeout and puts on your favorite show for a relaxing night in

Pyro

Gets like... scary protective of you.

They clearly glare at anyone that tries to bother you. There is a sense of 'if you talk to him, I'll gut you with my axe.' Goin on.

Pets and caresses on your back and head! You know that Pyros lap is all yours to lie your head on!

Makes you little origami things to amuse you, making silly little stories to dull your senses and entertain you.

They love taking care of you, actually. They find it grounding and relaxing to just focus all their energy on you.

Heavy

Picks you up and keeps you nestled in his arms.

"No talking to little man! He is very tired!"

Calls you a baby, but like, /affectionate

God he's so warm! Like a heated and weighted blanket! Heavy wouldn't mind keeping you in his arms forever and you certainly wouldn't mind staying there

Has tried to convince you to leave your job before bc it stresses you out.

Demoman

'Aye lad, bring it here!'

Offers you scrumpy and kisses. Def if you're visibly mad he starts kissing you a lot like 'aww~' *kiss* 'what's wroooong~?" *kiss* 'hmmm?' *kiss kiss kiss*

Jokingly offers you to "take out your frustrations on him" ;>

Like, if you agree that's great, if you don't that's great too that means more time for tea spilling

'Yeah! Teresa IS a bitch!'

Sniper

He can tell by how you open the camper door that you're pissed and tired.

"Aww hell, that bad huh?"

Likes playing with your hair while you lie on his lap. You've fallen asleep and woken up to elaborate braids a few times lol

Kisses your neck and intentionally slows his breathing so that you mimic him and calm down

Doesn't really like when you talk about your work, because it upsets him how much you get stressed about it. But he cares more about you more than he dislikes hearing about work.

216 notes · View notes

zyonsay · 6 months

Text

Wildfire, Chapter Five MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Max feels unwell, he doesn't know why though.

Reader: Male

Warnings: Idk if i can define it as mental unwellness?

Now playing: 'Waste' by Kxllswxtch

AN: I may or may not return and update this chapter another time. Anyways, a Fun Fact for you: I originally planned six chapters for this fic, now i have circa 11 planned. I am great at planning my stuff, i swear! *falls to knees*

And for the people who haven't seen the SMAU from the last chapter: i chose 26 as Readers driver's number and i do know that it's Kvyats number. Max stole his life, why can't i steal his drivers number?

Comment or dm me to be added to the taglist!

(Here is the previous chapter)

(Here is the next chapter)

Max was deep in thought. The sloping hills and impressive forests raced by the window of the bus. His headphones were blasting a familiar tune, and he was sitting in his seat like a statue, unable to move. His gaze lingered on the landscape, though his thoughts were far away from the lush, green nature.

A bitter, dark feeling had made its way into his gut. He felt sick, like a bad cold had come over him, though he was perfectly healthy. His heart felt heavy. His eyes had the color of a mountain lake and usually held the depth of the ocean, though today they seemed… dull.

Right next to him, you were sleeping in your seat. Your soft lashes threw shadows on your tired face, and you too had earphones on, but their battery had died a few minutes after you’ve fallen asleep. Rhythmic, calm breaths left your figure.

This little team building camp was held near the beginning of the winter break, you still had two races to complete, one of which was Zandvoort. Christian was curious to see if you and Max would behave better after this little nature trip, after all that was the purpose of coming out here.

Max’s hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, messing with the dark blue fabric. His hands tingled and he overall felt uncomfortable. He could not pinpoint what made him feel so weird, but he just knew that something wasn’t right.

The Dutch was startled by a sudden tap sound. He then spotted a rain drop on the glass next to him. Then another one, and another one. A few moments later it was pouring down like crazy. Your eyes fluttered open at the loud splashing sounds against the bus’s window. Eyes trailing towards the window, you were greeted with two blue-greenish ones. Max’s expression was plain and held little to no emotion. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, something was off. He then avoided your gaze and looked back outside. The bus shook as it was driving over a gravelly path now, waking up many of its passengers. But shortly after that, sleep got the better of you and you sunk back into your seat, huddled up in your sweater.

Max risked a look into your direction. You looked peaceful and contempt. He hoped that you hadn’t noticed whatever was up with him, but he knew damn well you had. As much disdain as he held for you, he had to admit, you seemed like a very empathetic person. Even if you made yourself look like an arrogant jokester to the media.

Someone shook your shoulder, and you woke up gasping, like you had just woken up from a terrible nightmare. Horner’s face greeted you; he was smiling warmly. “Get up y/n, we’re at the airport.” While rubbing your eyes, you got up and pulled your suitcase out of the now empty luggage compartment.

You stretched your legs, they felt wobbly after the long drive. Max exited the bus shortly after you, walking towards the plane while you stood in front of Horner. He noticed the worried expression on your face while your eyes trailed after Max.

The plane soared into the sky, you watched as the airport disappear in the distance, then you were above a sea of clouds. You glanced at the headphones in your lap with an annoyed expression. Not fully charging them beforehand was stupid, you thought to yourself. Once again, Max was sitting next to you, resting his eyes. What you didn’t know was that he struggled to find peace. His eyes were closed, but he couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep was a difficult situation for the past few days, he’d have trouble falling asleep and then would wake up at ungodly hours in the morning. The only thing indicating his messed-up sleep rhythm was the dark shading around his eyes.

The flight was followed by another excruciating bus drive, everybody has had enough by now and wanted to finally get a good portion of sleep.

The wheels of your suitcase made a smooth noise on the Hotel Lobby floor. The lady at the front desk handed you the keys to your room with a big smile, after walking around the corner you heard her whisper-yelling to her coworker who’d she just seen. ‘That was THE y/n l/n! I think I’m sweating Cassie.’

You tiredly rotated the golden keys in the keyhole and were greeted with a luxurious hotel room. The bed looked very inviting, its fresh white sheets beckoning you. There was also a fairly large closet, along with a desk and a vanity table. You were also granted an on-suite bathroom, with a shower which looks like it cost more than your life.

The bed is what your body longed for, but you wandered over to the desk. It had all the utensils you needed, but it was still neat and organized. There was a little box with small, perfectly square pieces of paper, probably for quick notes like a grocery list or a reminder. You grabbed a black pen and one of the colored papers and began scribbling.

A knock erupted at Max’s door, he’d almost ignored it, if it wasn’t for his curiosity. The dutch was very tired and wanted to go to bed as soon as possible. Before opening the door, he spotted a small paper in front of it. Someone must’ve slipped it underneath the door, he thought while picking up the paper. He carefully opened the door, looking down the hallway, trying to find whoever left him the little note. Though not very successful, the hallway was dead silent and there wasn’t a single person around. Strange.

Max then curiously examined the light-yellow object in his hand. The handwriting on it was squiggly and could’ve very well been from a toddler and a doctor at the same time. But the message that was inked on the paper was still very much readable:

‘I know you hate me, but I know something’s off. I hope you feel better soon, lmk if I can help you with anything. -26’

He knew exactly who left him this note. 26 was your driver’s number. A groan escaped his figure as he laid the paper on his bedside table before flopping onto his bed. This was a nice gesture of yours, but he’d rather nobody notice him not doing well. Max then scrambled to get off the bed and over to the desk. He pulled out a light green paper from the small box on his desk and quickly wrote something down. Very quietly, he snuck his way towards your door and let the small paper fly underneath it. What he didn’t know was that you were already knocked out, spread over your bed like a starfish.

‘Thanks, very nice of you. But I’m ok.’

Max was still in a light slumber when the first sun rays made their way through the window of his hotel room. He slowly sat up and stretched his arms, earning a loud pop from one of his joints. Last nights sleep was much better than he had expected. The white sheets were still fluffy as if he hasn't lain in them for a whole night. The dutch felt the need to shower, since he went straight to bed last night.

The marble shower wall looks stunning, he thought while lathering himself up. The water droplets ran down his body, soothing his aching muscles. Max hummed along to the tune coming from his phone on the sink.

He finished up and stepped out of the shower, dripping wet. Max fetched a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

He felt a bit better now. The heavy feeling in his chest had lightened a bit and motivated him to go out and do something. After all he still had a whole day before the practice for the next Grand Prix would start.

A knock on your door woke you up, startling you slightly. "Who's there?", you asked while padding over to the door.

"It's Oscar and Lando, we wanted to ask if you want to hang out?", you recognised Oscars gentle voice, then Lando chimed in "We havent seen you since last week! We miss you y/n!!" You know for sure that Lando was pouting like a child right now. Opening the door, you were greeted with two happy smiles. Before you could do anything though, Lando pulled the three of you into a big hug.

When he finally released you and Oscar, you bid them inside of your room. Oscar sat on the edge of your bed, while Lando spun around in the desk chair. "So, how was the camp? Did you survive Max?" You picked out some clothes from your suitcase. "Yeah, it was alright. Christian made me and Max stay in the same cabin. Obviously he was annoying, but nothing i couldn't deal with." You mumbled, while throwing on a T shirt and some comfortable jeans. You grabbed a tote bag and threw in your wallet, keys and other smaller items.

Lando jumped up from the chair and hurried you and Oscar out of the hotel room. "Let's go!"

______________________________________________________________

taglist: @velunis

#i need him in my bed #gay #male reader #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x male reader #reader insert #x reader #male reader insert #reader x character #male x reader #x male reader #male x male

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feartoxinjelloshot · 6 months

Text

Poor little Jonny with guts made of straw;

Far from his bed did he go that night

Jon, Mama and Papa, early in thaw

Flew he to the cornfield, sickened with fright.

Too close, too close! Cried the mother crow

And with her beak tore poor Jonny's hand

The child asked weeping his parents to go

But all still and quiet they both did stand.

Checkered blue curtains his morning-bird;

Mama's scratch fire burning his blood

Laid sick little Jonny and said not a word

In his hospital bed of magnolia wood.

They had given him water and supper and tea

And ointments of healing all down the limb

Still Jonny said nothing: they could not see

The straw-filled man stood in front of him.

Threw up the supper and bled out the tea;

Pecked and scalpeled the arm that he kept

Woken by terrors in the moon's light of three

All of the doctors and nurses had left.

Jonny cried mercy to the spiders and dirt

Lord, said he, one who made me so sick

His prayer then he spits like a curse

Heal me, my God, sweaty hands in a grip.

And to the son's cross on high he turned;

For black into the morning the sun had crept

But Jonny was older and soon had he learned

That God was a scarecrow with a noose 'round its neck.

I actually have not talked about Jon's original-original scarecrow incident here (as opposed to the NJ hospital one or sitb), mostly because it didn't really exist in any kind of coherent form until recently: the story goes that Jon, as mentioned in my other posts, was a severely chronically ill child and spent large chunks of his upbringing in and out of the hospital. as a teenager (somewhere in the 14-17 range) he was on a very rare family vacation with his often-neglectful parents; he was of course ecstatic to spend quality time with them outside of a medical environment or school. during the vacation Jon went into a cornfield by himself and ventured too close to a mother crow's nest, who pecked and drew blood from his hand in an attempt to defend her babies. Knowing of his own weakened immune system, this frightened Jon immensely, but upon telling his parents of it they were skeptical and said as long as he cleaned and wrapped it it would be fine -- it was just a bird peck. It wasn't worth ruining a whole vacation over. And Jon didn't really want to go back to the doctor, anyway, so he did as they said and went on with the trip.

Within several days the wound got severely infected. Jon was carted to the hospital in a feverish fugue and pumped full of an antibiotic cocktail that, while it did save him the arm and eventually fight off the infection, gave him a medley of hallucinatory side effects. The important thing to know about Jonathan here is that this was not an isolated incident -- he had a history of bad medication reactions, and coupled with his severe anxiety and potential undiagnosed psychosis, over the course of his childhood he had come to personify his own fears in the form of a frequent sleep-paralysis-creature-slash-nightmare-visitor that he dubbed The Scarecrow. Up until the crow-peck incident he had purely been afraid of it: the Christian ideals pushed on him over time led him to think of it almost as a devil figure, haunting him for his imaginary sins.

But the delirious hallucinatory episode of the concentrated antibiotic treatment, over the course of a long hellish week or so, started to change his perception of it. He had elaborate out-of-body experiences where he took his Scarecrow's place, lumbering and silent, following a sick child in the night, peering into the windows of sleeping households. He unbuckled the white face of the straw-filled man and found his own rotting skull inside. He prayed to God and the Scarecrow answered, speaking in a deep hoarse voice that sat hollow in his lungs. For the first time in his life he grasped the purpose of his own creation beyond the clutches of sickness -- he was to become his own Lord. He was to hang on the nightmare's noose and leave his human body and mind behind him. For the first time he felt strong.

The fear hadn't left him -- it never would -- but when he emerged from his fever and into the new world, it was with a black fountain of faith at his lip.

#scribbles #clipsverse #jonathan crane #the scarecrow #horror #batman rogues

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therottenkingsreckoning · 2 months

Text

Right, we're actually doing this.

I'm super nervous posting something like this, but with the encouragement of friends I feel ready to share with y'all the first chapter of this Franklydear mpreg fluff-fic I've been writing! Might post more chapters if reception to this one turns out to be good, but for now, have this!

~Little Flame, Chapter 1~

It began on a day like any other. That's when Frank first began to notice it anyway. He woke slowly, morning light streaming in from a crack in the blinds directly into his face. Combined with the strange coiling pain inside their gut, it made being awake on this particular morning rather unpleasant. Sensing his lover's stirring, Eddie tried to pull them close, but the same awful pain made Frank pull away.

Of course, that definitely woke the man up. Frank was never one to refuse the morning cuddles of his husband, in fact he cherished them more than anything else. "You feeling alright love?" Eddie asked, the rumble of sleep mixed with gentle and loving concern in his voice.

"Mm, s-sorry dear, " Frank said, sitting up and gently rubbing the sore spot in his stomach. "I feel a little nauseous right now. Don't know why."

"Nauseous?" Eddie was wide awake now, sitting up himself and looking worriedly at his partner. "Was it something you ate maybe? I hope my cooking's not that bad." The last line was added with a dry and awkward chuckle, clearly hoping to lighten the mood they'd woken up to a little bit.

"No! No, those were delicious," Frank assured him quickly, thinking back to the tacos his husband had made last night. Eddie really was an excellent cook, though the stress of his job often left him with little energy for such things. It was a treat to be enjoyed whenever he did have time to cook. Unfortunately for Frank though, thinking about food at the moment was a bad idea.

With a surge and squeeze of their insides, Frank was sent leaping off the bed, rushing into the bathroom just in time to throw up in the sink. Staring weakly up at his reflection, a sorry sight met them- bleary eyed, hair still in tangles, mouth wet with drool and leftover puke. What did Eddie even find appealing about such a wreck? Why would anyone look at this and not want to vomit themselves?

The pain had begun to subside, fading into a dullish ache in his lower gut, but they still inexplicably felt like he wanted to cry. What was with them right now? Pushing the irrational feelings down for the moment, he turned just in time to see the sheepish face of Eddie poking through the bathroom door. "Now I know that ain't right," he said with genuine worry. "You're clearly sick Frankie, I really hope it wasn't me that caused it."

That got the floodgates open on Frank's emotions. How much he loved and was loved by this man! Such simple gestures of care might as well have been heroic acts in their mind right now, and he almost reached to embrace and kiss him. But then, remembering the taste of bile on his lips, they turned back to brush their teeth quickly, a toothbrush-munching smile thrown his way around the drying tears.

"If's pr'lly jus' flu," Frank said.

Eddie was clearly not yet convinced (and more than little bit confused by this point) but some more gentle reassurance convinced him to leave it be for the moment. It probably was just a case of the flu, it was the right season for it.

Once they'd finally shooed the man off on his work route with promises to rest and recover, Frank fell onto the living room couch, finally allowing himself to feel the full extent of the sudden pain. Their back was killing him since they'd woken up this morning, and the peristent throbbing pain of his guts had shifted into their womb. That part felt reassuringly familiar. Maybe it was caused in part by his period starting again. He was due for one soon.

Actually...they were overdue.

The thought struck him like an arrow to the chest. The nausea, the cramps, the weird mood swings...the missed period. Could he be...

Shaking slightly, Frank's hands raked through his messy morning hair, tangling it further as they held his head steady and fought the urge to throw up yet again.

You don't know that's the case, they chastised himself, It...it could be the flu, like you said. Or a hormone imbalance.

But what if he was pregnant? How would the two take care of children? Did Eddie even want them? Frank certainly wasn't opposed to the idea, but it had always been in the abstract, "one day" vibes, not it actually happening!

Slowly, they forced himself to breathe and calm their swirling mind. I need to think about this logically, he thought.

There was really only one way of knowing for sure, of course. He'd need to buy a test from Howdy's shop. But he couldn't do that. The mere idea was agony. Frank wasn't out to most of the neighbors, at least not in regards to his sex. Julie knew, of course, she'd been there since before their transition, helped get him their first dose of T and worked odd jobs to pay for his top surgery. And Eddie knew. He definitely knew all that by now. As far as the others were aware though, Frank might as well have been AMAB. It was none of their business anyway.

But now it seemed, one more would have to be made aware. If I'm not I can finally relax and be sick, Frank told himself, steeling themselves for the journey. And if I am...

What would they even do? How would they possibly take care of a child, the responsibilities, the stress? And before they even got to that, the idea of birthing one! The pain and stress and mess of it! That was-

"Meow."

Frank looked up suddenly from where they'd curled up on the couch, eyes still speckled with the anxious tears as they met the soft black face of Bacon, their cat. Behind her, brothers Egg and Cheese soon followed, seemingly drawn to comfort their nervous parent. Or maybe they just wanted him to feed them. Whatever the reason, he was grateful they were there. Anything to get their mind off things.

Gently patting and kissing each, Frank stumbled to their feet and wandered into the kitchen for food, both his own and the cats'. The trip to Howdy's would happen, it had to. But maybe not yet.

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caspersickfanfics · 2 months

Text

Late Arrival Chapter 3

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack (described in detail), vomiting, fever, hospital mention, bad jokes

A/N:

Written for @monthofsick day 24: Panic ! It feels good to finally finish a multi-chapter fic for once, even though it's a bit short =v=

“–nari. Tighnari.” The earth is shaking. It’s warm. Comfortably warm for a moment, and then too much. He squirms. “Tighnari!” Oh, Cyno is shaking him. Cyno is warm. Cyno is—

“Please,” Cyno’s voice wavers. “I need to throw up.”

Tighnari bolts upright. Cyno is sick.

The forest watcher is still half asleep as he forces himself out of the bed. His head is pounding. A result of lack of rest, probably, combined with the incessant city noise, but his priority is getting the trash can to Cyno, and he manages it.

His ears flatten at the immediate sound of the bin being filled.

There are multiple waves, this time. They run in cycles. Cyno’s body tenses, hunches forward, and then with a sick gurgle, rancid smelling liquid gushes from his mouth and nose. Tighnari stands beside him and holds a mass of hair out of the way. It’s thick, and heavy with sweat. His own hands are shaking.

Something heavy sits uncomfortably in his stomach. A bubbling nausea rises in his throat, not from illness, but stress. Being woken so jarringly from such a deep sleep and days of exhaustion has left him reeling, strung out and achy.

He watches Cyno panting, head hung over the trash, and the tightness in his heart manifests into physical pain. It must be nearing 48 hours since anything’s actually stayed in Cyno’s system. His body looks thinner than it did even a day ago. He coughs, and Tighnari can easily see the outline of his ribs when his stomach contracts yet again. There’s another splatter, quickly followed by two more. Tighnari has never been squeamish, but right now the worry feels like a rampage in his gut.

Empty, Cyno leans back to catch his breath, melting into the pillows behind him. Tighnari sets the soiled trash can back on the floor. He brushes a thumb over Cyno’s cheek, catching some wetness and wiping it away, watching the sick man smile and nuzzle into his hand. He looks ill, certainly, but relaxed. Comfortable, even. Tighnari’s tail wilts between his legs and his chest squeezes impossibly further. He doesn’t want to take that from him - he doesn’t want to take anything from Cyno, and definitely not this - but a sense of safety is good for nothing if it’s only an illusion. When Tighnari finally speaks, he feels very far away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses quietly. Cyno cracks an eye open. Tighnari inhales unevenly. “I think… we should go to the Bimarstan.”

At the suggestion, Cyno goes rigid. He stares at Tighnari with some awful mix of shock, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. At the center of it all, a trembling and raw fear, the kind that makes him look far younger than his age.

“Tighnari–” Cyno speaks roughly, like it was hard for him to find his voice, and it cracks upon the single word. He’s gone ashen and bug-eyed. Tighnari melts with a sigh, sagging onto the bed and dropping his forehead to Cyno’s shoulder.

“I know.” Because he does, to a certain extent. There are few things that instill fear into the General Mahamatra, let alone to this degree. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his own and stares at it. He can’t stand the sight of his partner’s pained expression any longer. “I know,” he repeats quietly. “I’m just not sure that I can help you on my own this time.”

“Tighnari. I’ll be fine.” Cyno sounds reassuring. He sounds like he believes his own words. “You’re helping. I feel better already.”

Maybe he does believe it. Tighnari can’t read minds. But he can hear Cyno’s heartbeat and it has the speed and intensity of a cornered animal. Cyno isn’t a liar - and yet, anyone can bend the truth or tiptoe around it, especially when fear is involved.

“I’ve been through worse,” Cyno says, his voice pleading for Tighnari to cave. Instead, his hands shake harder. Cyno looks… Frail. The word comes to mind and punches the oxygen out of him. His own heart pounds and there’s a rushing white noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“I don’t… know what to do,” Tighnari grates out. His breaths are coming too short and quick, but the harder he tries to gasp in oxygen, the more his chest hurts. He stands and his tail swishes restlessly, brushing against the floor. Cyno squeezes his hand.

“I promise,” he says. “I promise I’ll be okay, Tighnari. I don’t break promises.”

“I know you don’t.” And he does, except… “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Cyno. Please.”

Tighnari doesn’t wait for a response. He wrenches his hand away and stumbles out of the bedroom, and then out of the front door. He doesn’t make it much further than that.

He can’t.

It crosses Tighnari’s mind that he’s gasping quite loudly, to the point of nearly wheezing, and that Cyno can probably hear him; if he could claw his way further from the building, he would. The last thing he needs is to cause more stress for his partner. But his legs simply refuse to hold him, and he’s shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. He has to blink dark spots from his vision - there is simply not enough oxygen to appease his greedy lungs.

His entire chest feels like both a pulsing bruise and a stab wound and Tighnari grapples with a sort of fury, a rage at his own body’s failure at such an inopportune time. He’s managed to betray both himself and Cyno in one sitting. His left arm begins to tingle and go numb, and Tighnari wonders whether he’s being dealt some form of divine punishment in the form of heart failure.

He can reason with himself, at least, enough to recognize that this is unlikely. Teyvat’s medical research has yet to discover a definitive way to distinguish between issues of the heart and of the mind, but Tighnari is aware that he’s quite healthy and still significantly younger than the average age of those afflicted with heart problems. Meanwhile, he’s familiar with the mind’s way of tricking the body, if only from having comforted Collei through more panic spells than he’d care to recall.

But then - there are exceptions to every rule. This feels more painful than Collei has ever articulated, and counting his breaths doesn’t seem to be helping in the way it does with her. Instead he ends up coughing, choking on the very air that’s meant to bring him life. He could be an exception, something could be wrong and Tighnari wouldn’t know because he isn’t a doctor. Every time Tighnari tries to push the worry away, the fear seems to grow. If he dies here, then Cyno…

His stomach lurches. Tighnari whimpers and tugs at his hair, his ears, in some attempt at grounding himself. His tail wraps around his body instinctively as he retches. With his hearing enhanced as it is, Tighnari’s heartbeat is a constant source of white noise in his periphery, but now it sounds like thunder. He clutches at his chest and feels pathetic.

If nothing else, he can be grateful that Cyno’s apartment building is tucked into an alley and away from the busier streets of the city. It’s still loud, but at least the likelihood of some stranger spotting him in such a miserable state is lower. Tighnari is doubly appreciative of this fact when he begins throwing up. Hot vomit scalds his throat and sprays violently beneath a decorative bush. Tighnari is all but frozen on his hands and knees while his body continues to empty itself. By the time he regains control of his stomach, Tighnari can barely think.

The nausea, at least, has abated. He crawls pitifully away from the pool of puke and leans against the solid stone walls of the building. Tighnari clings to his tail, hands brushing through it in a repetitive, soothing motion, and forces himself to pause. He has a near overwhelming urge to rush back into the apartment and check on Cyno - archons, he’s been gone too long - but he must first take stock of his body. If he doesn’t, he risks scaring them both.

So, slowly, Tighnari does a mental intake of his current state. His muscles ache, but the pain is gradually diffusing, no longer so centralized to his chest. His breathing is shaky but finally effective, and while his heart is racing, it doesn’t hurt, nor does it sound so impossibly loud. He’s still shaky and his legs feel weak, and of course, his head continues pounding. Whether or not he can stand is a question he can’t answer until he’s testing it out, unsteadily managing to get his feet underneath him.

When Tighnari staggers his way back to the bedroom, Cyno is right where he left him, awake and looking devastated. He may have followed his partner’s instructions, but that clearly didn’t stop him from hearing everything. “Tighnari.” Cyno reaches for him immediately. Tighnari shuffles over, feeling dazed and embarrassed. His ears are still ringing. Cyno doesn’t comment on the way the hand Tighnari offers shakes, only shifting slightly to gently cup it in both of his own. They are warm and calloused, and so, so gentle.

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari rasps, because he hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, and maybe he shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have fallen apart at all. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he still doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t remember crying, but Cyno wipes some wetness from under his eyes. Tighnari feels his cheeks heat up and looks away, whispering again, “Sorry.”

Exhaustion hits him like a physical force, and he drops onto the bed, staring down at the way their hands intertwine. Cyno tugs him closer, and and Tighnari allows himself to rest on his partner’s chest. His heartbeat is steady now. A regular old life-force. His fingers move to card through Tighnari’s hair, and then to scratch his ears in a way that shakes out some of their tension. When Tighnari eventually musters the strength to look up, Cyno is watching him intently. His expression is steady and determined, and Tighnari knows what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth.

“I’ll go,” he says, and Tighnari aches because bravery is so integral to Cyno’s being. It’s something he learned so young and has had to rely on far more than is fair. “I’ll go to the Bimarstan,” he reiterates, and his voice is calm enough that if T didn’t have the ears that he does, he wouldn’t have even heard it waver.

He’s not going to make Cyno go there.

Not yet.

He realizes it all at once, as though just knowing that it’s an option, that Cyno won’t resist if it is needed, is enough to rebuild Tighnari’s confidence in his own abilities.

“Thank you,” Tighnari says, and Cyno tenses, probably steeling himself to follow through on his words. Tighnari is sure, now, that he would if it was asked of him, but he shakes his head. “I think– well, I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits.

Cyno watches him carefully as Tighnari continues. “Your fever feels better now than when I left, and you slept most of the night, which means some of the nutrients have stayed with you.”

“So,” Cyno’s voice is tentative. Tighnari nods, urging him onward. “I guess you could say I’m hereling for you.”

Tighnari groans. He can’t help it. “You’re–”

“Here-ling, like healing, and “here for you.” Get it?”

“Cyno,” Tighnari scolds. “Not the time.”

His partner shrugs, unaffected. “I think it was funny.”

Tighnari pulls away with a kiss to Cyno’s knuckles. He’s not actually upset; if anything, he still feels apologetic. But worry continues gnawing at his insides, so he gathers a few things from the kitchen before returning to Cyno’s side.

“Okay,” he says, holding up a glass. “This has some hydro-infused nutrients in it - they should be tasteless, and it’s meant to be rehydrating. I actually haven’t used them before,” Tighnari murmurs. “So although they come from a trusted colleague, if you feel anything odd after consuming this, let me know.”

Cyno nods and reaches for the glass. Unsurprising. Now that Tighnari’s offered him a way out of the Bimarstan, he’ll be content to try anything. Tighnari pulls the glass away just slightly.

“Cyno. This is important.” When he swallows, his throat is dry. “This goes not just for the drink - you’re not out of the woods yet with this ailment. If you start feeling worse, I need you to let me know. Can you promise that?”

The matra has gone still, listening quietly. When Tighnari finishes speaking, Cyno keeps looking at him attentively.

“Are you okay, Tighnari?”

The question makes his legs weak. No, he’s not, and Cyno can see straight through him. There’s an unsettling battle between the tension still running through Tighnari’s veins and the weight of his exhaustion, and his headache has only intensified. He allows himself the luxury of rolling into the bed beside his partner before responding with a sigh.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tempted to leave it at that. But honesty is a two-way street. “I’m tired and that makes me nervous that I won’t— I might not notice if something is really wrong. You seemed so much better earlier, and I had just convinced myself that you were fine.”

“I felt fine earlier.” Cyno reaches for the medicine and drinks it slowly. “And I feel better now. But I meant what I said: I can see a doctor. Especially if it will make you feel better.”

Tighnari’s heart swells. He waits patiently for Cyno to rest the glass on his nightstand, and then wraps his arms around him. He’s still sick and sweaty and warmer than he should be, and once he’s healed, he’ll have to regain some of his muscle mass. But Cyno still manages to feel strong when he returns the embrace.

“I trust you,” Tighnari says, squeezing a bit tighter, tucking his head under Cyno’s chin. “If you say you feel better, I believe you. I just need you to keep being honest. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Okay,” Cyno says. “I promise, Tighnari. I won’t lie to you.”

The words are probably more than he needed to say; Tighnari already knew this much. And yet, his body relaxes upon hearing them.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while. Cyno drifts off, still recovering, and Tighnari plays with his hair. Some of his restless energy begins to fade, but he’d rather watch his partner sleep peacefully than close his eyes. It’s a relief when the matra stays that way for multiple hours. When he wakes up, Tighnari is alarmed, briefly, and ready to reach for the trash can in the event of repeat from earlier. But Cyno only smiles lazily, yawns, and starts tracing gentle lines on Tighnari’s back. It’s soothing. Tighnari’s muscles complain as they loosen and readjust, but it isn’t the worst feeling. He fights against heavy eyelids until he hears Cyno chuckle.

“You can rest,” he says. “I’ll wake you if I need anything, Nari.”

Tighnari scrunches his face up, still resistant. It doesn’t feel right, and yet…

“I promise,” Cyno says. Tighnari doesn’t need anything to verify the truth to his words, but he listens closely anyway. Between the sound of one steady heartbeat and the next, Tighnari finally allows himself to drift off.

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

#my writing #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #tw panic #tw panic attack #tw vomit #tw emeto #tw fever #my writing: genshin #sick cyno #sick tighnari #cyno genshin impact #tighnari genshin impact #genshin impact emeto #genshin sickfic #novemetober #novemetober rescheduled #genshin emeto

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

Hiya! I’m so sorry if this is a repeat ask—Tumblr didn’t seem to submit when I tried just now oops! not sure whether your requests are open (your fics have been INCREDIBLE lately) or if you’d be into it but! I’d love to see a story where Steve’s finally convinced you to try for a baby and you’ve been trying for a few months. Steve thinks you’re pregnant bc he’s picking up on what he thinks are “signs” (morning sickness, you have to pee constantly, your boobs are suddenly swollen and you’re craving foods you normally hate) but reader’s worried if it’s not true they’ll both be disappointed, and is stubbornly denying all of it, to Steve’s total exasperation.

On the morning when your jeans refuse to button, Steve finally forces you to take a test (of course he secretly bought one weeks ago). Turns out Steve might know your body even better than you do…

Oh thank you for resubmitting it cause I definitely didn’t get it the first time!

But I love this idea. It’s insane, I’ve actually heard of many cases where the husband/boyfriend has been able to tell before the woman that they’re pregnant and it just floors me! There was one guy that was POSITIVE when his wife first found out she was pregnant that they were going to have twins, both girls and he told her that which she just laughed off, but he said he just had a feeling in his gut. What do you know? They ended up having twins. Both girls. It’s WILD to me.

They say there’s woman’s/mother’s intuition but I wonder if there’s father’s intuition too.

Anyways, the gif I immediately thought of was the sassy one where he sits and crosses his legs after telling Dustin to be humble sometimes lol so yes I gotta use that for this. This will be its own fic by the way! (Also, I didn’t know if you wanted smut included in it but since you didn’t specify, I’ll keep it clean and just do the fluff and snarky Steve 😂)

Steve Knows Best

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really, but pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, throwing up, just in case that’s not your thing

Mornings are usually your least favorite time of day. Honestly, who wants to leave a nice comfy bed to do things?

But lately, mornings have sucked even more for you. You’ve dealt with some bad nausea the last two weeks or so, but nothing terrible. It wasn’t until a few mornings ago that it was bad enough to wrench you from your sleep and to the toilet.

Here you were again, on your knees, not even six a.m. in the morning, stomach heaving. You’re sure you must’ve come down with a bug or something. One of the kids had been sick lately and you’d taken them some food to cheer them up and could’ve caught what they had during your visit.

You didn’t know which was worse, the puking or the constant nausea that seemed to plague you the rest of the day. Even if you got it all out of your system that morning, you spent the rest of the day with bad enough queasiness that you almost wished you would throw up, just so you’d feel better.

Figuring you were done, you flushed the toilet, wiping your mouth before carefully proceeding to brush your teeth. The last thing you needed was to set yourself off again.

By the time you padded back into the bedroom, breath fresh again, you saw Steve laying there, head propped up in his hand, watching the bathroom door and waiting for your return.

“Damnit,” you mumbled, hoping you hadn’t woken your boyfriend, “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough,” he said, pulling you towards him, running your back, “Did you get sick again?”

You rested your head next to his on the pillow, facing him and nodded.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he kissed your head, smoothing stray pieces of hair that had escaped your ponytail, off your forehead, “You don’t feel warm.”

“It could’ve been something I’ve eaten,” you replied, shrugging.

“Going on a week?” he asked, skeptically.

“Maybe I caught what Dustin had,” you answered, “Remember he was sick last week and I visited him with some food and comics?”

“Y/N,” he gave you a knowing look, “He had a cold.”

“Well, germs are germs,” you huffed.

“Baby.”

By his look you were almost sure you knew what he was going to say.

“I still think you could be pregnant.”

And you were right. You sighed, exasperated.

“I’m not pregnant, Steve.”

It’d only been three months since Steve had convinced you to start trying for a baby. You’d kinda just wanted to let things happen as they happen, but Steve wanted to actively try. You weren’t opposed to the idea, especially since it meant sex with him, but the idea still scared you. Not having a baby per se, but actively trying to conceive. You’d seen plenty of couples purposely try, only to be upset month after month when it didn’t happen.

You didn’t want to be disappointed if a test came back negative. You didn’t want Steve to be disappointed, you couldn’t and refused to do that to him. Besides, you’d still been getting your period and that was sign enough that you weren’t pregnant.

“How do you know? You haven’t taken a test.”

“I just had my period, besides I’ve only thrown up three times. I don’t think that constitutes as being pregnant,” you retorted.

“Haven’t you said you’ve been peeing like crazy?”

“So? I’ve been drinking a lot of water. Water makes you pee, Steve,” you said.

You could tell he wasn’t convinced. He pulled you into his arms, your back pressed against his chest as his hands traced lazy patterns of the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“Do you not want to be pregnant? Is that it?”

You could hear a tinge of hurt in his voice and you frowned, hating yourself for making him think like that.

“It’s not that, I promise, Steve,” you laced your fingers with his, bringing his hand up to your mouth to kiss it, “I just really don’t think I’m pregnant.”

“Then explain your boobs.”

His statement was so random that it caused a bubble of laughter to escape your lips.

“What about them?”

“They’re huge,” he said bluntly.

You looked down, frowning contemplatively. You’d noticed they were a bit tender lately, but didn’t really look any bigger than you were used to.

“Again, probably cause my period. How did you notice anyway?”

You turned to face him, amused and curious for his answer.

“The last time we had sex. I mean it’s kinda hard to ignore such treasure when you’re in certain…positions,” he smirked.

It’d been about two weeks since you two had last been intimate because of you not feeling well lately.

“You’re exaggerating,” you laughed.

“Like I said, you’re pregnant. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You knew better than to argue with him.

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

•

“Dude, is she okay?”

“Do you not feed her or something?”

Steve gave Dustin and Robin both an unamused look at their questions.

Everyone else had plans for the day, but you, Steve and Robin had ventured out to the mall in the next town over. It was the closest mall to Hawkins after the one in town had been demolished years earlier.

You sat in the food court with your boyfriend and Steve, thoroughly enjoying your cheeseburger and fries. You’re not sure why you felt so hungry today, but you’d take that a million times over feeling nauseous, so you took it as a sign that you’d finally kicked the lingering bits of the bug you’d had.

“I can hear you two, you know,” you grumbled, eating a fry, “I was just really hungry for a cheeseburger I guess.”

You spotted pickles set aside on Dustin’s burger tray, tomato on Robin’s.

“Are you guys going to eat your pickles? Or tomatoes?” you asked, motioning to them.

They shook their heads, sliding the tray over yo you where you collected the food, popping them into your mouth happily. You could’ve laughed at the varying looks on their faces at that moment.

Robin looked horrified.

Dustin looked confused.

Steve looked…amused?

“What?” you asked, tired of them gawking at you.

“You hate pickles,” Robin said.

“And tomatoes?” Dustin said, although it came out as a question; his statement was as confused as his expression was.

“Maybe my tastes have changed,” you shrugged, “They just sounded really good right now.”

Steve gave you a knowing look and once again, you shook your head adamantly.

“No,” you said.

The other two looked between you, trying to follow.

“What? What’s this? What’s going on?” Robin asked, motioning between you two, indicating the silent conversation you and Steve were having in shared looks.

“Y/N’s pregnant.”

“What?!” Dustin exclaimed.

“She is?!” Robin yelped.

“I’m gonna be an uncle?” Dustin beamed.

“And I’m gonna be an aunt?” Robin smiled.

“No one’s going to be anything!” you said, trying to calm them down, “At least not at the moment.”

“But Steve just said—”

You cut Dustin off mid-sentence.

“Yes, I know what he just said. But I’m not pregnant. Steve just thinks I am.”

Robin looked at Steve with a raised brow, “Explain, please.”

“She’s having all these signs,” he waved his hands in mid-air as if that would explain it.

“What kind of signs?” Dustin questioned.

“She’s been nauseous and has thrown up several times,” Steve ticked off on one finger.

“Which I told him was just a bug,” you countered, “I must’ve gotten sick from when I visited you when you were sick, Dustin.”

“I had a cold,” he deadpanned.

“Semantics!” you exclaimed.

“She has to pee every five seconds,” Steve ticked off on another finger.

“I drink a lot of water,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s a reasonable excuse,” Dustin nodded.

“Her boobs have gotten huge,” Steve added, ticking off a third finger.

“Your boobs do look really nice lately,” Robin nodded.

“Right?” Steve said.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. I’ve told him a million times I’m not pregnant,” you said.

“Then there’s this,” Steve motioned to you and the food in front of you.

“What? That I’m enjoying a burger?”

“Like you haven’t eaten in three years,” Dustin said.

“And eating pickles,” Robin added.

“And tomatoes,” Steve finished.

“You guys are losing it,” you shook your head, “I think I’d know my body better than that.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Robin said, sharing a look you couldn’t decipher with Steve.

He still had that determined, all knowing look in his eyes. The one that sparked the flint of doubt you were having deep down in your gut. The one truth that you refused to admit.

•

The final straw came one morning, not even a full week after the incident at the food court. It’d been about a full month since the nausea started and though you hadn’t been having symptoms like that in a while, Steve was still adamant.

He didn’t bother you about it, but you knew he was itching to prove you right. You couldn’t help but find yourself wishing he was right, but you just weren’t ready for that disappointment if he was wrong. The fact that your period had shown up last month made you feel like disappointment was a big possibility.

You were getting ready to tag along with Steve and the gang to hang out. You were finishing getting dressed when you hit a snag in your morning routine. Your favorite pair of jeans were feeling a bit more snug than you remembered them being. Granted, you’d been eating a bit more than usual, but it was a little odd.

Of course, Steve walked in the bedroom in the middle of your struggle.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching you try your hardest to pull the two sides of your jeans together, to get the button in.

“I can’t get my jeans buttoned,” you groaned.

His brows rose, clearly amused but he walked over, offering to try to button them for you. When that didn’t work, he looked at you.

“Still don’t believe there isn’t a chance you’re pregnant?” Steve asked, crossing his arms, smiling at you.

You sighed, tired of fighting the curiosity, the doubt and the fear. So, you gave in and decided you’d take a test.

“So, should we pick up a test while we’re out today?” you smiled.

“No need. I already got one.”

He dropped his arms, already heading to the bathroom.

“You…what?” you laughed, not sure you’d heard correctly.

He pulled a sack out from the cabinet under the bathroom sink and pulled out a small box which was in fact a pregnancy test.

“How long have you had this?” you asked, amazed he’d thought of getting one already.

“About a month ago,” he smiled sheepishly.

You laughed, shaking your head and kissed his cheek.

“Oh, Steve. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, “Now take it.”

He handed you the box.

“Do you want me to stay in here or wait in the bedroom?”

“Go wait in the bedroom. I’d be too nervous to pee with you staring at me.”

He grinned, giving you a kiss, “Fair enough.”

After reading the directions, you took the test and set it on the counter and went to wait with Steve.

“What if you’re wrong?” you asked, wringing your hands with anxiety.

“I’m not,” he answered, sure of himself.

When the time was up, you went to get the test and you couldn’t believe what you saw. You showed Steve and his look of excitement met yours of baffled joy.

“How did you know?!”

He just answered you with a sassy, knowing look and a raise of his eyebrows.

Turned out, Steve did happen to know your body better than you did.

#steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things blurb

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 11 months

Note

would love to read some gator shane from the stardew furry mod voring some of the other villagers, perhaps even eating the farmer. WG and/or disposal would be cool too

I can do that, he’s one of my faves.

S.hane groans, putting a hand to his head as it throbs. He's woken up outside, again. With a handover, again. And...with a bloated, groaning gut, again. It takes him several minutes to get to his feet, his gut wobbling as he does. A sickly belch escapes him, the flavor of booze and some kind of meat thick on his breath. "Who was it this time..?" the gator grumbles, still trying to rub the ache from his temples. This is the fourth...or maybe fifth time he's woken up with someone he knows long since flushed through his guts. As if the beer wasn't bad enough for his health, his waistline has been ballooning like crazy since this habit started. Even his hoodie barely fits anymore, a sliver of scales peeking out from under it at all times. He gives his gut the same soothing rub he's been giving his head. It lets out a low groan, the building pressure of an entire person's worth of shit deep in his bowels. At least he woke up fully this time. Last time he had to ditch his pants with the pile he dropped off in it in his sleep and waddle home half-naked, as if he needs even more shame in his life on top of what he gets normally. His guts groan again and the gator winces. "Alright, alright..." Glancing around to make sure he's alone, S.hane drops his pants and squats down. He's still trying to recall last night as thick loaves of shit slide out from his ass and pile up on the ground under him. It can't be S.ebastion, he ate the wolf a month ago. It's not that farmer that stopped by, either, because S.hane devoured him last week. His head hurts trying to recall last night, though, and the gator grunts both from the pain and the force of something solid pushing out of his ass. A bit more shit slops out and he sighs, standing up again and hiding up his pants to give the pile a once over. That's definitely a bear skull sticking out of the top, but L.iam had been the first person he ate. When S.hane recognizes white tufts of fur in the pile, he feels a little sick. "G.us..?" he asks as if the pile of crap can answer him. The bear must have tried to cut S.hane off or something...and the gator got rid of the problem. The same thing happened with E.mil two months ago. His gut grumbles slightly and he pats it a few times with a sigh. Well...he won't be going to the bar any time soon, then. Maybe that's for the best...or maybe he can start getting on the bus and visiting one in the city. S.hane grumbles and starts wobbling back home. He needs to deal with the hangover before he thinks about where to get his booze from now.

S.hane can't sit still as he watches S.ebartion and A.lbert play the arcade cabinet together. He needed it so he didn't start buying beers, but those two had been at it since the place opened, and they kept brushing S.hane off every time the gator tried to tell them he wanted a turn. His eyes keep flickering from the two of them to the bar, and his stomach lets out a soft groan. He can't take it. He stands up abruptly and walks over to the two. Drooling jaws open wide, and without them looking, they snap down over A.lbert's head first. The dragon lets out a muffled yelp of surprise and S.hane starts gulping raveously, wasting no time in devouring the man. His gut bloats out rapidly as A.lbert drops in, pressing up against the machine. With a wet slurp, he's sucking down the dragon's wiggling tail, and he locks eyes with S.ebastian. The wolf raises his hands up, taking a step back. "Y-You can have the game, I'll just--" S.hane grabs him by the hoodie and yanks him forward, into the same drooling maw the dragon just disappeared into. S.ebastion struggles a lot more than A.lbert did, but other than hitting the arcade cabinet a few times, he was guzzled down just as easily. With a final gulp, twitching paws sink down S.hane's gullet, and the gator lets out a thick belch. His hoodie is riding up over his gut now, distinct bulges of dragon and wolf writhing around as best they can in his tank. S.hane gives it a few pats before focusing all of his attention onto the game. He'll let them out once he's gotten a few rounds in, he tells himself. Even as his gut presses more into the machine, and their screaming becomes more frantic as the gator's guts churn harder. Purple scales and black fur lace a few of his belches, but he's too absorbed in the game to really notice. It's when the saloon is being closed up for the night and S.hane is waddling off with a soft, sloshing gut that he recalls what was supposed to do. But a few thick gurgles from the round dome hanging off of him is all the proof he needs that his promise to let them out is going to be a little...different. He'd fulfill that promise on his walk home, heading a bit deeper into the woods to find a quiet place to squat down. A horrible smell fills the air as soft logs of shit begin to squeeze out of him and pile up in a heap. Bones stretch him out awkwardly, coaxing little groans out of S.hane as he drops the two men off. S.ebastian's skull makes the gator whine, but A.lbert's gets a soft yelp from him as those short horns give him an extra stretch. By the time he's done, there's a soft heap of manure slopped against a tree, black fur and purple scales dotting the brown muck. Two skulls sit half buried on top, and S.hane feels a bit of guilt bubble in his gut...or gas, as the feeling passes when he lets out a soft burp. At least now no one will be hogging the machine anymore.

#v.ore #male vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #gay vore #oral vore #digestion #fatal vore #weight gain #disposal #stardewvalleyvore #shanevore #sebastianvore #albertvore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #ask

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i-think-im-gunna · 1 year

Text

new Fic featuring Cody and Riley. Riley is nonbinary and gose by she/they while Cody (he/him) is super prone to getting sick

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Cody sits in his bed breathing heavily, his sandy blond hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He had taken a sick day off from work after he had woken up this morning with a fever. His partner Riley had picked him up some medicine but it hadn't helped much at all. He had been spending most of the day in bed but was struggling to get comfortable as a nausea brought on by the dizzying fever, creeps its way into his stomach. He Groans as a low, rumble rips through Cody's belly as he belches, the sound reverberating off the walls of his cramped bedroom. The stench of the food he ate earlier fills the air, and a sweat breaks out from every pore on his body, making the comforter stick uncomfortably to his spine.

"Fuck, this sucks." It was still another two hours before Riley got home from work to take care of him.

The room seems to spiral with each of Cody's burps. The sweat on his brow has started getting into his eyes, and as it blurs his vision, he feels even more queasy. "Mmm..." Gritting his teeth, he forces another belch.

"That's a, uh... that's a bad idea," he mutters, groaning. "Hnng… my stomach…"

With another wet burp, his mouth starts to fill with saliva and his stomach starts to turn. His hands shoot up to his mouth to catch his drool... and his stomach flips again, and again, in a nauseating series of lurches.

"Oh god, oh god..." He reaches for the bin next to the bedside table.

"Oh fuck, I think I'm gonna..." He clambers out of bed and with a loud belch, vomits into it, the smell making the bile rise in his throat once more. "Ugh..." The smell of it doesn't help at all. He's gotta make his way to the bathroom before it happens again. Cody groans, wiping away the spit that had gathered around his mouth. The sour, bile taste clings to his tongue, and he can't decide what’s worse, that or stale vomit that lingers in the bin he'd just heaved into.

"Okay, okay... okay, bathroom." He makes his way to the bathroom and dumps the bin in the toilet, the stench triggering another round of vomit. The room twists and twirls around him, making him even more dizzy. But the worst part is the pressure of something sitting on his stomach, demanding release. Cody presses his hands against his midsection.

"Ugh, oh god..." he manages to drop in front of the toilet and throw his head over the edge just in time to burp up something vile. A thick layer of saliva pools at the back of Cody's throat, while massive bouts of belching and vomiting escape his lips. He leans over the edge of the toilet, warm vomit pouring from his mouth and down the front of his shirt.

"Fucking…urp…hell…" Grabbing one of the bath towels, Cody wipes his mouth and begins coughing. His head throbs so intensely he wants to collapse. He wanted Riley. He wanted his partner to pat his head and rub his belly as he heaved.

"Riley..." Cody mutters between burps,"hurry..." As his stomach continues to constrict, Cody finds that all he can think about is Riley. He wants Riley, he needs Riley. He needs them to come rub his aching belly, his burning forehead, and tell him he’s going to be okay. He needs to be held and loved and cared for. "Riley… I feel like I’m dying…" Not long after the front door opens and shuts.

"Cody? I'm home. Where are you?"

Cody turns his aching head and groans. His head swimming and his guts still in knots, he calls out back over the stairs, "Up... here... bathroom!" He tries to stand up straight, but quickly realizes he's going to collapse. "Ah-agh!" He falls to his knees, the nausea returning and his head feeling like it's about to crack. In seconds a figure appears in the threshold of the bathroom door. Riley stands with a worried look on their face as they see the sight of their boyfriend before them.

"Riley..." Cody's voice is desperate as he calls to them, his face slick with sweat. He can't help but reach out with both hands, hoping they want to take him in their arms. "I don’t feel good Riles..." The tears forming at the corner of his eyes threaten to break and make him weep. “My tummy really hurts…” Riley instinctively kneels down to wrap their poor Cody in their arms. Riley gently hugs him earning a little belch in their ear.

"You're fever hasn't let up at all since I left has it?" They ask softly. Cody buries his face into Riley's shirt. The fever is agonizingly strong.

"I feel... sooo sick…" he whimpers between wet coughs. "I want- I want you to... rub my belly Riley... please..." Riley smiles and gently places a kiss on top of Cody's forehead.

"That fever making you feel nauseous baby?" They ask, slowly running their hand up Cody's shirt and over his belly.

"Y-yeah..." He whines as soon as Riley's hand makes contact with his stomach. As Riley reaches deeper, his breathing hitches with anticipation. "God, Riles... my belly just... feels so gross and swollen..." He whimpers, eyes squeezed shut with fear and frustration. The nausea is getting worse. "F-feels like it's gonna... f-fucking... hnnng..!" His hand curls into a white-knuckled fist in his lap as as a wave of pain hits his belly.

"You gonna throw up babe?" Riley coos. His stomach rolls and clenches painfully. Right now, the mere notion of vomiting makes him gag.

"I might... oh, I might..." He winces as his midsection begins writhing, not wanting to make Riley clean him up again. "Don't want to get too close, I don’t want to get this shit all over you..." Riley smiles and leads Cody back over to the toilet, while they massage his tummy.

"Don't worry about me baby I've got you."

"Oh... thank—oh... God..." He reaches out and grabs Riley’s arm for support while they move him, allowing them to hold him steady over the toilet. He lets out a deep, shuddering sigh as Riley begins to rub his belly. "Oh, man, God..." Even in his pain, he can't help but lean closer to the sensation of Riley’s hand on his stomach. Cody can feel his cheeks burn. "I l-love you," he lets out. "I'm so sorry..."

"No need to be sorry sweetheart," Riley whispers while giving Cody a light squeeze around his belly. He lets out a long, shuddering belch that rumbles through his gut. "Oh... God, that didn’t feel good..." He rests his chin on the edge of the toilet. The warmth of their partners hand on his stomach is soothing, the pain of the fever diminishing slightly. Riley’s fingers find their way into his hair comforting him. "Thank you so much, sweetheart... really... thank you..."

Riley can still hear the rumblings of Cody's stomach. It's obvious to them that another wave of vomiting is about to wrack his body. They leave several kisses along the back of his neck as they press more firmly on his stomach.

"oooh..." Cody lets out a high-pitched whimper as their kisses pepper his neck. Riley's massage is soothing. The pressure is a little rough but in a way that makes the pain from his stomach and fever fade away. He lets out a sigh, slumping against Riley's chest. "God... thanks.... I..." He reaches back and runs his fingers through their auburn hair, "I know you're gonna hate me for this, but... I'm still really... really..." he starts. He belches again, "Really... really... nauseous..."

Riley runs their fingers through his sweat soaked hair and tries not to smirk at their poor partner. "Want me to help you throw up the rest?" They ask him.He hesitates for a few seconds and then nods.

"Uh-huh..." As soon as Riley stops massaging him, his stomach starts lurching again. "Y-yeah... oh, God, yeah..." He reaches out to take their hand and, for a moment, closes his eyes and tries to relax. "Just get this over with... and I'll... I'll be fine..."

"Do you want me to stick my fingers down your throat or squeeze your tummy?" Riley asks, stoking Cody's pale cheek. He winces at first as Riley strokes his cheek, his face flushed. With a quick nod, he utters a response that's half-question and half-cry.

"Fingers... please... just, uh..." He squeezes his eyes shut again. Cody doesn't know how much more he can take. But the thought of another wave of retching and the pain it would bring is too much. "Just be gentle... please..."

Riley smiles and pulls Cody in close as they move both of them closer to the toilet. Slowly they put two fingers in Cody's mouth and start rubbing the back of his throat to trigger his gag reflex, while they rub his tummy and whisper sweet encouraging words in Cody's ear. Almost immediately Cody starts to cough and gag as Riley's fingers brush across his throat, the flesh on his belly tingling and squirming underneath their fingers. He clutches at their shirt for support. The retching starts, and Cody lets them thrust their fingers a little harder. He vomits with a wet, bubbling sound, not bothering to lift the seat up at first, his whole body shaking with both excitement from Riley's touch and the violent bouts of vomiting. It's at this point that he pulls up the toilet seat and throws up properly into it.

"You're doing soooo good baby. That's it let it all out and tell me if you want me to stop ok?" Riley watches as Cody gags and sputters into the toilet, letting him coat their fingers in saliva as they keep slowly rubbing the back of his throat. Through a bout of gagging, Cody whimpers back, "Don't... s-stop, please..." Even the gentle touch of Riley's fingers is too much for him, as his body starts heaving so violently that some of the vomit ends up sloshing out, running down his shirt and leaving the faintest hint of bile in the air.

Eventually, the worst passes, and in a low, defeated voice, Cody begs, "Oh... oh God... please... hold me..." Riley pulls their fingers from Cody's mouth as he slumps back into their chest. He was still burping but it seemed the worst was over. Slowly they pulled him into an embrace, still rubbing circles on his belly. His forehead rests against Riley's neck, his breaths hot against their skin. The last remnant of the pressure in his stomach fading with each gentle rub and caresses. He lets out one last belch and then slumps limply, his arms wrapped around Riley. "Oh, God... I feel so much better..." he mutters into his partner's neck, burying his face in their shoulder, his whole body starting to shake with deep, relieved breaths. They both stay like that for a while until Riley can feel Cody's belly settle. They continue to whisper sweet nothings in his ear and pepper his head with small kisses.

"We should get you cleaned up and back to bed" they say softly.

"Yeah... y-yeah..." Cody is almost asleep. He feels much better now, so much more like himself again. Riley's touch has helped him to relax enough to allow the fever and the sickness to subside. "Bed, b-bed sounds good..."

"After you sleep a bit I'll make you some food to see if you can keep it down" Riley says while helping Cody back to the bed after changing him into some clean clothes.

"Ugh…I don’t want to think about food right now…urp..." Cody lets out one final belch and then slumps against Riley's shoulder. His eyes are closed and he seems totally unconscious. But he's breathing quietly, resting. His body is finally at ease. He seems as though he can sleep for hours. After Riley tucks him into bed, they carefully climb in with him and wrap their arms around his middle. They kiss the top of his head and smile, "feel better soon Cody."

His arms wrap limply around Riley as they snuggle up beside him, briefly slipping back into consciousness. He lets out a sleepy grunt at their kiss and, after a moment, mutters, "Mmf... Love you, Riles..." with one word in particular carrying more weight than the others.

#sick fic #sickie #whump #emeto #emetophilia #induced vomiting #vomit kink #emeto kink #belly kink #codyxriley #sickfic #oc tag

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endlesstwanted · 26 days

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A Kiss For The Unwell

My entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #251 — Out There, read under the cut or on Ao3 here 🏵

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Tags: AU (pollen allergies work the opposite way), Flowers, Sick Character

Summary: TK suspects Carlos may be sick because of the pollen season, so he goes to check on him.

Wordcount: 1,089

Also created for: @sweetspicybingo, Hurt/Comfort | Checking in // @fandom-free-bingo, Maritime May | New Treatment // @seasonaldelightsbingo, types of love | “You’re Not Letting Go, No, I Won’t Let You Go, Oh”

TK heard from Michelle that Carlos hadn’t left his house in a couple of days during the shift.

They had hung out only a few times, so while they weren’t exactly a thing (TK wanted to think that yet), it obviously surprised him. Carlos had the face of someone who has never called in sick at work and has never missed a class in high school for being ill. So he decided to text him, and sent Carlos a casual “hey, how are you doing?”.

A false fire call and a gas leak later, TK got to check his phone while eating something that had brought a few arguments between Marjan and Paul. Carlos had replied that he was fine, and that told TK that he wasn’t working that day since Carlos never used his phone while patrolling. So, his guts told him everything was not fine.

Not wanting to push the situation, but with the intention to keep the conversation going because he was starting to worry, TK sent a new message, this time asking if he could come around his place after work.

The next hours passed by slowly, with just one more call and plenty of time to overthink and burn energy in the gym. Perhaps it was a hard week at work in Carlos’ station, caught up in a big case that was too much for him or had asked him to work non-stop the days before he last went home. Maybe he had found himself in a crossfire and asked to take a step back and a break because of it.

And of course, it could also be the damned pollen season they were in. Mateo had just had to stay in at the station during the last call because of it. He had a sneezing attack that caused him a headache, and none of those stopped until they came back to the station and Nancy brought some lilies out of the ambulance. With just a sniff of them, Mateo was feeling much better. The way pollen works in this world often made TK have a headache himself; it felt only natural for it to have a bad effect on people, but instead, the negative effects were had if you were not exposed to enough pollen during spring.

Once he was changed and ready to leave the firehouse, Carlos had sent a new text giving him the green light to drop by, but warning they’d have to order in if he planned to stay for dinner. TK replied with a smiling emoji, and headed outside.

First he stopped at a flower shop around the corner, where he stood trying to decide what to get among the huge variety of flowers and ready-to-go bouquets for a while. Finally, he chose a little bouquet of yellow pansies; yellow was the colour he thought of when thinking of Carlos, and the other way around. Next, TK went to a Thai restaurant from which they had ordered once in the past, and got the exact same dishes they had done that time —he remembered all the important stuff, and to know Carlos’ comfort food was one of the ways he had of showing how much Carlos meant to him.

TK called for a ride that left him in Carlos’ street and he walked the houses to get to his house thinking of what he was going to say. He didn’t want to step over anything that Carlos could be going through, or break any boundary they still hadn’t set up, so he opted to act like he hadn’t heard Michelle talking about him being at home for some days and just be a supporting friend Carlos could turn to if needed.

After a few knocks on his door, Carlos welcomed TK with messy hair like he had just woken up from a late nap, a little yawn he poorly hid with his hand, and watery eyes. Right before he turned to his side and sneezed on his elbow.

“Sorry about that,” Carlos apologised when he focused back on him, sniffing and taking a probably slightly used tissue from his pocket. “I’ve been … like this for a few days.”

TK had managed to hide the flowers behind his back for a surprise effect, so while they stayed unnoticed he showed a close smile and said “Sorry if this wasn’t the best day to hang out. But I brought dinner!”

Carlos’ eyes lit up at the sound of that word, and his eyes fell on the bag on TK’s hand. “I wish I could smell it, but the bag tells me it’s from that Thai place we ordered once?”

“I’m glad your sight is intact,” TK joked, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “So … can I come in?”

“Yes-yeah. Of course.” Carlos moved to the door’s side and let him in.

TK made a spin to still face Carlos and not let flowers show, and when he closed the door, TK held the food up while saying “I brought something else.”

Carlos frowned, and TK noticed how red his nose was. He made a mental note to run to the pharmacy and get some meds if the flowers didn’t work, or at least moisturising balm for his nose. To Carlos’ puppy eyes, TK didn’t waste more time and took the flowers out.

A smile grew on Carlos’ face, who looked as cheerful as he could be given his state. “For me?”

“For you.” With another smile, TK bowed and handed Carlos the pansies.

He watched as Carlos closed his eyes and brought the flowers to his face. Taking a big sniff he smiled again, and TK thought maybe that was exactly what Carlos needed. “Yellow is my favorite color. I could kiss you right now,” he chuckled.

Now it was time for TK’s eyes to light up at the hint of the possibility of physical contact.

“This is exactly what I needed.” Then Carlos opened his eyes, and saw his face. “But I don’t think I’m the best person to kiss right now.”

TK only smiled wider. “Can I do it anyway?”

Carlos smirked, and teased him by taking the food’s bag out of his hand, leaving it on the entrance’s furniture. “Go for it. I think your visit is making me feel better already.”

TK took Carlos’ hand that was holding the flowers and moved them away, keeping them safe as he reached Carlos’ neck to bring him closer, pulling him into a delicate kiss.

#flash fiction friday #SweetSpicyHC #FandomFreeBingo: Maritime May #seasonaldelighstbingo #typesoflovebingo #911 lone star #tk strand

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