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super-secret-sick-fics · 3 years

Note

ouu yes ive been so obsessed with them (osasuna) recently and there’s barely any fics for them in this department lol i wanted to see something like suna coming to school sick with the stomach flu or something and osamu taking him home to take care of him (i feel like it’s ooc for suna to go to go school if he’s not feeling well so it’d probably be one of those where it gets progressively worse throughout the day) sorry if this is too long haha

Okay!! Thank you for this request. Sorry it took so long. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with this and it ended up being so long, that I’m gonna post it in 2 parts!!

You can totally read either as a stand alone though. Part 2 should be up soon :)

Suna and I have the same birthday, so I actually kinda put a lot of myself into him in this one since we share a star sign lmao. I hope it’s not too ooc for either of them. It’s my first time writing sunaosa!

Sick at School: a SunaOsa fic

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,024

Warnings: vomit & swearing & soft cuddles

Part 2 Here

_________________________________

Suna was confused.

There was a strange gnawing in his gut that wasn’t there when he woke up this morning. In fact, when he woke up this morning, he felt perfectly fine. Maybe he was a little more tired than usual, but he didn’t sleep all that well, so he brushed it off and got ready for school.

But now, he was sitting in class, his eyes burning as he tried to stay awake. It was only Monday and only the second class of the day, but he felt like he’d been at school for days already. On top of the grumbly feeling in his stomach, his brain was muddled, so paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying was taking every bit of energy he could scrounge up.

It didn’t make sense. He slept his eight hours (even if it wasn’t the best sleep), he ate a good breakfast, he was hydrated, there weren’t any tests or games coming up to make him anxious at all. So the unsteady, uncomfortable, unusual feelings he currently felt simply did not make a single bit of logical, rational sense.

And because they didn’t make sense—because there was no rational reason for him to feel that way—he ignored it.

Ignoring it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated as the fog in his brain solidified into a consistent pounding and the gnawing in his stomach started to feel more like his stomach acid was boiling. The sun shining on him through the window didn’t help any, and he started to feel rather warm. By his fourth class, occasional cramps rolled through his body, forcing him to tense every muscle in his body to keep from wincing.

When the teacher finally released them for lunch, Suna folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, ready to take a nap. Within three seconds, he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground, grating on his ears, and felt his desk shake as someone sat down. He adjusted his head and peeked over his arm to find Osamu staring down at him, his usual bored look gracing his features.

“Yer sick, Sunarin,” he deadpanned and took a bite of his sandwich. Suna blinked at him several times.

Sick? Was that why he felt so weird? But he wasn’t sick this morning. There was no way he would have come to school if he felt bad.

Still, it would explain why he slept poorly. It must be a fast acting bug.

“I guess so,” he mumbled and buried his face in his elbow again.

“Hmmm,” Osamu mumbled. They were quiet for a minute or two before Osamu spoke again.

“Wanna go to the infirmary?” he asked, his mouth full.

Suna looked up at him again and sighed before sitting up. The world spun around for a brief second and he closed his eyes until the feeling went away. When it righted itself once more, his stomach was hurting worse than before.

“How’d you know anyway?” he asked and rested his chin in his hand.

“You’ve been lookin’ bad all mornin’. Wasn’t hard to tell.” Osamu shrugged. His sandwich was gone and he started making his way through the onigiri he most likely made himself. The fact that Osamu could tell he wasn’t feeling well from across the room made Suna blush. Or maybe he had a fever?

“Plus,” Osamu continued, “Tsumu’s home right now with a pretty nasty stomach bug. Threw up all over his bed last night.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, probably remembering the disastrous scene from the night before. Atsumu was never good at being a sick person. Or an injured person. Or a person at all, really.

“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if ya caught it from him since ya slept over at our place last weekend.”

Suna nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” he asked. Osamu shrugged again.

“I’ll probably be spewin’ my guts out by Thursday. Usually how it goes. One of us catches something then the other is sick within the week. We’ve only been sick at the same time a handful o’ times.”

“Mmmm,” Suna nodded and put his head down once more. It was suddenly very difficult to hold his head up.

“Infirmary?” Osamu asked again. Suna shook his head.

“Can’t move,” he whined before he could stop himself. Osamu looked at him with wide eyes.

“W-well, I’ll help ya out, dumbass,” he stuttered and Suna returned the wide eyed look.

“Uh, sure. But finish your lunch first. I can wait. You should eat. Wake me up when you’re done,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Alright. Lemme know if we need to go sooner though…” Osamu said hesitantly and Suna tried to ignore the implication behind the phrase.

Just because Atsumu had a stomach bug didn’t mean that Suna did too. He wouldn’t throw up at school. The increasing nausea absolutely had to be related to the growing migraine that slammed away at his head. He definitely would not throw up at school.

Before he started overthinking himself into a downward spiral, Osamu placed a hand in his hair. Suna was tense at first, but then Osamu started gently scratching his scalp and he immediately relaxed. He was a little embarrassed, honestly. Not because this was unusual though.

Osamu knew it helped Suna with his frequent headaches, so Suna was sure he somehow knew about the incoming migraine. It was just that this was usually something Osamu did for him in much more private settings. He’d do it on the bus on the way back from away games, or in one of their rooms after school or during a sleepover. To be so affectionate in the middle of their classroom was unheard of and if Suna wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d probably smack Osamu’s hand away.

“Ya got a slight fever there, Sunarin,” Osamu whispered gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay. I’ll let ya know when I’m done eatin’.”

“Mmmm.”

Within a few seconds, Suna felt himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it wasn’t because of Osamu.

A violent cramp rolled through his gut and he shot up in his seat, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. The cramp passed quickly, but left behind a foreboding feeling of nausea so intense it left him paralyzed and glued to his seat.

A second later, he noticed that Osamu was nowhere to be found and his anxiety increased. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent and there was no way in hell he could move or speak without throwing up all over his desk.

His chest tightened and he swallowed back a gag. He needed help. He needed Osamu.

“Suna-kun?” a girl from his class touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew her hand.

“O-osamu—“ he forced out and she nodded urgently and ran away and out the door. Less than a minute later, she came back, Osamu hot on her heels. She pointed to Suna and Osamu nodded before rushing over and stood in front of him.

“Sunarin?” he tried and Suna shook his head.

“Are ya gonna—“ Suna nodded before Osamu could finish his question. The eyes of all of his classmates burned Suna’s already flushed cheeks and as if to let everyone know what was going on, a gag forced itself through his body painfully and he leaned over his desk. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and whimpered.

“Can someone bring me a trash can, maybe?” Osamu snapped at their peers. The girl from before nodded and dashed to the corner of the room and dragged the trash can over to Suna’s desk.

Everyone froze again and stared with scared eyes at the situation unfolding. Suna shook with effort, trying to stop the inevitable. He really really didn’t want everyone to watch him throw up.

Thankfully, Osamu had his back.

“Leave?!” He shouted and everyone ran out of the room.

“I’ll bring the nurse, Osamu-kun,” the same girl said and Osamu nodded, but his eyes were focused only on Suna. They’d have to remember to thank that girl later.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro. I finished my lunch and you were sleepin’ so peaceful I thought I had time to go to the bathroom before I took ya to the infirmary,” Osamu apologized and cupped Suna’s face in his hands. His voice was much softer than a second ago. It was the voice reserved for those quiet nights that they spent chatting before they fell asleep. Or on the team bus early in the morning when everyone else was still too groggy to pay attention to them. And it comforted Suna in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“I feel sick, S-samu,” Suna forced through gritted teeth. The swirling in his stomach grew more insistent by the second and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was leaning over the trash can.

“I know, Rin. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got ya,” Osamu smiled softly at him and brushed his hair back. He frowned when Suna unconsciously leaned into his cold hands.

“Fever got higher,” he mumbled. Suna gagged again.

“Alright, c‘mon,” he said and circled around the desk behind Suna. Osamu gently grabbed his trembling shoulders and positioned him over the trash can. People’s leftovers from lunch filled about half the bin and the smell of all the different foods made Suna dizzy.

“Rin, ya gotta relax,” Osamu sighed and forcefully rubbed between Suna’s shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Suna said stubbornly.

“Yer an idiot.”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s gonna feel worse if ya don’t just let it happen,” Osamu tried. Suna shook his head.

“Alright well, be mad at me later, then,” Osamu muttered. Suna was about to turn and look at him questioningly, but Osamu wrapped a hand around Suna’s front and placed it on his stomach. Even the minimal contact forced a wretch that left Suna reeling.

“D-don’t,” he tried, but the request was punctuated by a painful hiccup.

“I’m sorry. Can’t do that,” Osamu responded before starting to rub up and down on Suna’s stomach quickly. The motion shook the contents nauseatingly and Suna couldn’t stop the watery burp that followed. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Osamu didn’t relent. He started patting Suna’s back with the other hand, forcing belch after belch. The conflicting motions wreaked havoc on Suna’s already chaotic stomach.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, before Suna grabbed Osamau’s wrist tightly.

“S-stop—hurrk. P-please, Samu. No m-mor—hic,” Suna begged. All of his limbs felt like they were about a thousand pounds and he shivered, cold despite the sun beating down on his back.

“It’s okay, Rin. I got ya,” Osamu muttered. He pried Suna’s sweaty hand off his wrist and replaced it with his hand. Suna squeezed hard when a wet belch jolted his body. His other hand grabbed the rim of the trash can in a white-knuckled grip. Osamu used his free hand to rub gently between Suna’s shoulder blades again.

Suna squeezed his eyes shut when he wretched. His throat felt tight and he tried to swallow the accumulating saliva in his mouth, only for it to come back up with a noisy gag. He opted to just drop his mouth open and let the spit fall into the trash can disgustingly.

“S-Samu—“ he tried but was interrupted by a guttural, wet, burp that left his head spinning. Two seconds later, he wretched and a weak stream vomit dribbled out of his mouth. It burned his throat and coated his mouth. The disgusting taste left him more nauseous than he thought possible and a belch gurgled in the back of his throat. He heaved, but nothing else came up.

“Ah, Rin, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Osamu shushed him. Suna didn’t even realize he was crying.

He continued heaving for what must have been an eternity before another painful gag jolted him forward and brought with it a torrent of pale vomit into the trash can. At least he didn’t have to see everyone’s discarded lunch anymore. Not that his new view was much prettier.

“There ya, go Sunarin,” Osamu soothed. Suna sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His body was relentless though, and before he felt like he had sufficient oxygen, he was lurching forward with more forceful vomit pouring out of his mouth.

Suna’s body didn’t let up. It was stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of gasping breaths abruptly interrupted by a fountain of vomit forcing its way out. Eventually, he was just left heaving over the trash can, his stomach trying but failing to expel whatever might be left. Anxiety crawled up his spine and the room spun. He wanted to breathe, he really did. He just couldn’t.

“Fuck, Rin, breathe. Please,” Osamu demanded and his voice shattered through Suna’s panic. He nodded and closed his eyes to try and collect himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled heavily through his mouth. A minute or two of that, and he was able to take in his surroundings again.

At some point, Osamu wrapped an arm around Suna’s chest because apparently, his own arms gave out at some point and hung limply at his sides. He spit the residual nastiness out of his mouth and squinted up at Osamu.

“Can we leave?” he asked plainly. Osamu stared at him owlishly and then chuckled.

“It’s the middle of the day Rin, I can’t just—“

“Please?” he all but begged and grabbed Osamu’s arm. Osamu hesitated for the briefest of seconds before relenting with a heavy breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Want me to call yer mom?” Osamu responded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off Suna’s face. Suna shook his head.

“Is it too much to ask if I can stay with you? I don’t want to risk giving this to my little sister and grandma.” His voice was quieter than he wanted, but he was wiped out. He cleared his throat and spit in the trash can. He was fading fast. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep whatever bug this was off.

“Yeah okay. I’ll ask my Ma. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue since Tsumu’s sick too.” Osamu pulled out his phone and massaged Suna’s scalp. It felt so good that he leaned over and buried his face in Osamu’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep here. Hopefully Osamu’s mom would be okay with it and come quickly.

“Ma, can you come pick me and— no I’m not sick— well, if you’d just let me talk ya crazy—Ma I do have a good reason to be call— would ya stop talkin—yer damn right I’m being disrespectfu—Ma!” As Osamu argued with his mother over the phone (it was nothing new) Suna took inventory of his body.

There was no denying he was sick. That much was obvious. His head was pounding and his stomach still rolled and swirled uncomfortably. Shivers danced up and down his body, exacerbated by the sweat that coated his skin. He was sure that he had a fever. All of his limbs weighed him down and he didn’t think he had any sort of energy to move them. It was taking all he had to stay awake right now.

“Osamu-san!” The girl from before returned, the school nurse right behind her.

“Suna Rintaro, you poor boy. Caught that bug going around, I see,” he heard the nurse and pulled his face away from Osamu’s body. Blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, he sniffed and stared at the old lady in front of him.

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth without saying a word and pulled a water bottle out from her coat pocket. While they were waiting for his temperature, Suna glanced at Osamu, who was now leaning against the desk behind Suna’s. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his other still holding the phone to his ear as he continued listening to his mother rant.

Without thinking, Suna reached over and grabbed a hold of Samu’s shirt with one hand. Osamu looked down in surprise before his face softened and he put a hand on Suna’s shoulder.

The thermometer beeped and Suna winced.

“38.7,” the nurse read and pursed her lips. She pulled out some medicine from her lab coat and gave some to Suna. He grimaced. Even in his hazy state, he knew putting something in his stomach wouldn’t go over well.

“Suna-kun, you need to get that fever of your’s down. I know it’s not ideal, but please try.” Suna turned his head away. She sighed.

“Okay, but make sure you take something at home. Does someone need to call your mother?” Before Suna could answer, Osamu interrupted.

“I’ll take him ma’am,” he said, apparently off the phone with his mother.

“Osamu-kun, don’t you be thinking you can just skip out on school,” she warned.

“I would never,” Osamu charmed, “I think it’s the smartest move, ya see. Atsumu is at home with the same illness right now and so there’s no way I ain’t carrying the germs for it. Wouldn’t it be safest if I go home too? Before I infect anyone else. And I can take Sunarin with me.”

The nurse gave him a skeptical look, but then glanced over at Suna. She noticed his grip on Osamu’s shirt and the former’s hand firmly on Suna’s back. It must’ve made Suna look pretty pathetic because she relented almost immediately.

“Oh fine, fine. Does someone need to call your mom?”

“No, ma’am. Just got off the phone with her. She’ll be here soon. Said she’s got no problem taking Sunarin in ‘til he’s all better.” He squeezed Suna’s shoulder and Suna relaxed knowing he wasn’t at risk of infecting his little sister or aging grandmother. He sighed and smiled gratefully at Osamu.

It was comforting to know that Osamu was going to be looking after him. Because, if the swirling in his stomach told him anything, he was in for a really long night.

#my fic #haikyuu sickfic #sick suna #caretaker Osamu #tw vomit

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cheerfulmelancholies · 4 years

Text

Medical Mechanical-Ch. 5

Diana sped home, hair trailing behind her. She didn't bother to stick around; Ethan had made it very clear that he wasn't sharing any info on school grounds or via text message. She told him to text her when he wanted to meet up and left it at that. As she rode home, she thought about how her father had been acting. Aside from being exhausted, there was nothing unusual about him.

She slowed to a stop on South Mitchell, gazing up at the heavily guarded cement block on the hill. According to Ethan, it really was a cement prison. No doors, no windows, no pipes... She wasn't about to call him a liar but that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. How were people getting in then? Where did her father go, if not inside? It bothered her more than it should.

She spent a few more moments watching the bustle around the facility, likely caused by Ethan's recent adventure, before settling on the reasonable conclusion that there was an underground entrance. She pedaled on home.

The text came unexpectedly, when she was getting ready for bed. After giving up on waiting to hear from her father, she'd put the leftover dinner in the fridge and was about to get undressed. Picking up the phone, she frowned at the question.

"How's your dad?" it read.

"He's not here," she sent back. After some hesitation, "I haven't seen him once today."

"Ok."

She waited for more but nothing else came. Brows furrowed, she asked if everything was alright.

"My mom's been awfully happy today."

"And that's bad?" She was confused. He had said his mother was acting weird, was this what he meant?

"You don't know my mother," came the response. "She's been like this since she started working overtime."

Diana grew cold and looked at the clock. Her father had been gone for well over eighteen hours. He'd been out of the house sometime before six and it was now going on eleven. That was bizarre, considering that he was supposed to have a nine to five day job. These past couple of weeks had seen him gone for increasingly longer amounts of time.

"Don't say stuff like that, you're starting to scare me here," she texted back, chewing her lip.

"Sorry, I just had to know if it was only me who was noticing this stuff."

The door opened and she heard the heavy footsteps of her father. "I'll text you later; my dad's back."

"Ok."

"Dad!" she called, trampling down the stairs. She saw the way he looked and lowered her voice. He had another migraine. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," he muttered, rubbing at his temples.

"How was work?"

"Same." He stalked past her to go to his room.

"You, uh, feeling okay?"

"Headache." He started up the stairs.

"You always have a headache."

He caught the way she was looking at him and stopped, halfway to the second story. "Is there something you need, pumpkin?" She wasn't normally this intrusive. She looked worried but he was too exhausted to let his paternal instincts kick in.

"I'm just making sure you're ok, that's all."

"I'm fine," he said, starting up again. "Sorry for the grouchiness; I'm just really tired."

"You're always tired," she mumbled once he was gone. Taking her phone out, she sent one final text to Ethan.

"Dad's the same as always. Let me know if you need anything, otherwise I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Night."

She gripped her phone as she trudged back up the stairs to her own room. Staring at her father's bedroom door, she wondered if this was how he had always been, or if she'd just missed the change.

The next morning Diana awoke to the smell of breakfast. She heard the sizzle of bacon downstairs and rolled over to read her clock, certain she was imagining things. When the dream didn't end and she confirmed the time with her phone, she got up. She padded downstairs and saw her father in the kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs.

Daniel turned to grab a sip of coffee and caught sight of Diana. "Mornin'," he said around the rim of the mug.

"Hey." She was still unsettled by Ethan's story. She watched her dad's back as he continued to cook. "You seem energetic today."

"Do I?" He was on his third cup of joe and still couldn't get his thoughts in order. He had passed out as soon as he hit the bed but felt like he hadn't slept at all.

"You're making breakfast, so..."

"Speaking of, you want an omelette?" He was sure there was some cheese and peppers in the fridge; nothing special, but enough for a decent meal.

Diana opened the fridge and showed him the empty crisper as well as the lack of cheese. Aside from the half-finished gallon of milk, a few eggs and the leftovers they'd been eating the last couple days, the appliance was barren.

Daniel went to say something, then stopped. His brows furrowed as he recalled getting the food on the griddle out of the fridge. He was certain he'd seen-

"You haven't been to the store in a minute, Dad," Diana said, reading his thoughts. "You used up the rest of the cheese and that on Monday."

He did. He remembered now. He'd been standing just like this, making almost exactly the same thing. He felt a strong bout of deja vu as he glanced at his attire. He might've been wearing the same suit too.

Diana saw his gaze roam over his clothes and knew it was only a matter of time before he headed out to work. He was probably only sticking around this long because he felt guilty about the last couple of nights. She jolted when her phone buzzed; she'd forgotten she was still holding it.

Despite how tired he felt, Daniel watched his daughter type something on her phone, keenly aware of how involved she was. She was texting someone, if the way it would frequently ding was anything to go by. Every few seconds she would glance up at him, as if she was confirming something. The exchange went on for another minute before she remembered where she was.

"What?" she asked his suspicious expression.

"Sometimes I forget you actually know how to use that thing." She quirked a brow. "Who were ya texting?"

"No one. Just someone from school."

"And, uh, who might this someone be?"

"The bacon's gonna burn," she said, ignoring his prying eyes. She was glad her father was still himself, though she wouldn't tell him that.

Daniel hummed before turning back to the griddle. "I've gotta get to work in a bit, pumpkin, so I'll leave you to your day. You got homework?" Right as he finished, her phone went off again.

"No... Not really," she muttered, distracted. "Hey, I'm gonna go out for a bit. I wanna hang with some friends. We've, uh, got this project to do and..." She trailed off once she saw the look on his face. "What's that for?"

"As anti-social as you are, I'm amazed by this sudden change in attitude. I thought you hated people, especially the ones at your school."

"Yeah, well, not everyone's bad," she forced herself not to blush at the thought of Ethan.

Daniel caught her discomfort and allowed a small smile. "Funny, you never mentioned a project before."

"You never pay much mind to me, so you wouldn't have known even if I'd told you."

"You usually complain," he retorted, making plates for the two of them. "I'm always privy to your gripes."

"Well, I didn't wanna bug you," she said, taking a seat at the table. "You've been so busy with work lately."

"You can tell me if you're making friends."

"He's not a friend." Her eyes widened when she realized her mistake. She wanted to backpedal but it was too late; her father was wearing that smug smile of his and she couldn't think of a decent defense. She settled for glaring.

He chuckled. "You have fun, alright?" He ended the conversation with a bite of bacon.

Diana grumbled and dug into her own plate.

Daniel finished first and made to leave as she was clearing the table.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked, wanting to confirm.

"I'm fine, pumpkin. Good luck with that project of yours." He disappeared with a wink and a grin, causing her to roll her eyes. She read the address off her phone once more before pocketing it and going out to grab her bike.

#writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #current wip #rough draft #mm #medical mechanical #sci fi #writersociety

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multifandommandy · 7 years

Text

Little One

Reader discovers that she and her husband Merlin are expecting their first child! Because we all need some good old domestic fluff with this wonderful man right about now.

** special thanks to @whirlybirbs for sobbing with me today while I wrote about our husband.

Word Count: 1.1K

12 pieces of plastic. One word, two lines ... and your life was changed forever. Sir Merlin and Agent Gawain were going to have a baby. You were pregnant.

After being best friends and lovers for five years, it was only a few months after your wedding when Merlin brought up the topic of having children. Heaven knows he wasn't the kind of man who would force you to have children if you didn't want to, but the spark in your eye must have given you away as he took your hands in his that night. The maternal side of you had always been clear to him - in fact, it was one of the things that had first attracted him to you.

Even though you were only a few years older than Eggsy, you've openly admitted to becoming the Mom friend to many of your close friends and co-workers. Including the late Harry Hart, the best man at your wedding and someone you missed dearly. Watching your husband grieve the loss of his oldest friend made you realize that life was too short to settle on plans for one day. Looking forward to the future you had together is what brought you both out of your depression, moving out of your flat and into a house with plenty of room for your family to grow.

For the past few months you hadn't actively been trying to get pregnant. Eighty percent of the time the two of you used condoms out of habit, but long weekends of love making left you feeling particularly nauseous for almost a week now. Monday morning rolled around with Merlin waking at the crack of dawn, kissing you softly before leaving the house to get a head start on work. The second his car rumbled down the driveway you shuffled out of bed yourself, first through the door of your local drugstore to pick up a hand full of pregnancy tests and rush home to take them. It wasn't until the final test had beeped that the reality in front of you set in, weeping openly from pure joy at the thought of Merlin holding your child. He was going to be an amazing father... you couldn't wait to tell him.

By the time you'd bought your usual morning group coffee order you arrived just in time to see Roxy and Eggsy already bickering their way towards the training room, setting their coffees wordlessly on the benches before high tailing it out of sight. You had learned over the years that butting into their first conversation of the day was a sure way to have a migraine for the rest of the morning, a mix of anxiety and happiness building with every step you took towards your husband's office. Balancing your tray as best you could, you knocked on the solid oak door and waited until a grunt of acknowledgement gave you the all clear to enter.

Merlin was bent over his desk laser focused on the multitude of screens in front of him, looking up the second you stepped inside and smiling fondly. It never failed to amaze how his eyes seemed to become an even warmer shade of green when they lit upon you. I wonder if the baby will have his eyes... you thought. But how should I tell him the news?

"Good mornin', love." He met you half way to relieve you of the drink tray, setting it atop his desk before pulling you close. You have to stand on your tip toes to reach his lips first, taking your sweet time to revel in the scent of his aftershave and the feeling of your bodies slotted together comfortably chest to chest. In a few months you may have to ask him to switch to an unscented balm, and your baby belly would definitely get in the way of the late night snuggles you were oh so fond of. You had better take advantage of these moments while you still could. "Good morning to you too handsome."

As if he could sense the way your train of thought was wandering, Merlin pressed a kiss to the top of your head before reluctantly pulling away. "Is everythin' all right?" You knew that this was his adorable way of asking why you were late without wanting to seem like he was asking as your superior, and not as your spouse. You reassure him with a genuine smile, brushing the pad of your thumb across his jawline. "I'm fine. I just had to make a slight detour this morning, that's all." That answer seemed to satisfy him, squeezing your hand one last time before moving to sit back down at his desk before he spoke again. "And how are the children this mornin?"

The comment had come so easily to him that he didn't pick up on your dumbfounded expression at first, thankful for whichever intense e-mail he was reading for giving you a moment to collect your thoughts and think of what to say. Doing your best to remain nonchalant, you perched on the edge of his desk and playfully tapped your chin.

"Do you mean Eggsy and Roxy, or our other child?"

A deep chuckle resounded from the Scot's chest, you gauged his reaction closely to see when the weight of your words finally sunk in. "Well who else would I be talking about? We don't have a ch-" His fingers had been flying at lightning speed across the keyboard only seconds ago, but you could see the gears turning in his head when his entire body froze.

Tears had began to pool in your eyes once again as your husband turned his hopeful gaze on you, his mouth hanging open in disbelief of his own. The way his brow furrowed just the slightest told you that he was trying to figure out if his mind was playing tricks on him, too afraid to get his hopes up if he were wrong. Instead you fumbled for one of his hands, pressing it against your still flat stomach with a nod.

"I'm pregnant, Hamish."

You had only ever seen the love of your life cry twice before, on both the happiest day of your lives and the worst. But you knew the second his first tear fell that this was another moment you would never forget. His hands unbuttoned your blazer with practiced ease, all be it sliding from his chair and dropping to his knees in front of you. You didn't even have time to startle before he laid his head in your lap, clinging to your waist as if you'd disappear. You instinctively lay one of your hands across the back of his head, the other finding purchase on his now shaking shoulder.

The kiss he presses to your belly moments later is light enough to make you squirm, biting back an elated giggle through your second bought of tears. Soon he's pressing kiss after kiss against your skin, tugging the material of your cotton shirt up despite your squeaks of protest. He wanted to be as close as he could be to both you and the baby you'd created together, voice barely loud enough for you to hear the quiet murmur he presses against your skin.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you and your Ma, little one."

#merlin x reader #kingsman imagine #merlin kingsman x reader #*#THIS TOOK ALL DAY OMG

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