Through The Waves - Tyriq Withers x Amira Blake (oc)
⤷ Amira Blake is in the final stretch of her pregnancy with her first child. After months of preparing, planning, and dreaming, early labour sets in. At home with her loving husband Tyriq, and surrounded by her doula, midwives, and mother, Amira begins the long and emotional journey of a home water birth. The story follows through her hours of contractions, moments of fear, waves of hope, and the unshakeable support of the people she loves most.
warnings: labour, pregnancy, fluff, british OC (but can be read in any accent u want), set in London, mentions of birth, home birth, emotional mess, swearing, Bub is the baby's nickname cos they don't know the gender yet <33
a/n: *sigh* we meet the long awaited, precious Bub this chapter. This was a very emotional chap for me to write bc these guys are so special to me :(( also what do yall think the name is??
For a moment, time forgot how to move.
The world stilled around them. The cries filling the room were small and fierce, cutting through the quiet like proof that this was real - that after months of waiting, wondering, hoping, their baby was finally here.
Amira could barely breathe.
Her entire body trembled with exhaustion, every muscle spent and shaking beneath the warm water, but none of it mattered.
Not when the tiny, wriggling weight against her chest grounded her so completely.
Not when soft, damp skin pressed against hers.
Not when Tyriq's broken sob sounded beside her.
Her hands, trembling uncontrollably, came up to cradle the baby carefully against her chest. Tears blurred her vision so badly she could hardly make out the tiny features at first - the dark tuft of damp hair plastered to a small head, clenched little fists, flushed skin slick with birth.
Her breath caught sharply.
A laugh escaped her through tears.
Tyriq's hands gripped the edge of the birthing pool so tightly his knuckles turned white. "What?" he asked, his voice cracking.
Amira looked up at him, her face wet with tears and glowing with disbelief. Her lips trembled into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
A sound halfway between a laugh and a sob tore from his chest as his head dropped forward. A daughter.
For a second, he couldn't fucking move.
The truth of it crashed over him all at once, stealing the air from his lungs.
Claire smiled softly as Hannah wiped tears from her own cheeks nearby. Even Amira's mother let out a quiet, emotional laugh, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth.
The tiny baby curled safely against Amira's chest.
Amira looked up through her tears, smiling when she saw the sheer wonder on his face. "Come 'ere," she whispered.
Tyriq sank fully to his knees beside the pool, leaning over carefully as though one wrong movement might break the fragile miracle before him. His hand trembled as he reached out.
One fingertip brushed against the baby's impossibly soft cheek.
And just like that, she stilled.
Her tiny cries quieted. Her little face scrunched before relaxing, as though she somehow already knew him.
The breath left Tyriq in a broken rush.
"Hi, baby girl," he whispered.
Fresh tears spilled freely down his face. "I'm your dad."
His shoulders shook as he bowed his head, overcome by emotion so immense it felt impossible to contain. Amira reached for him immediately, one hand brushing over his hair shakily.
The simple touch made him lift his head again. Their eyes met. And in that moment, everything they had endured - every sleepless night, every fear, every painful contraction, every whispered reassurance in the dark - became worth it.
"She's perfect," he breathed.
Amira looked down at their daughter, her smile softening.
Their baby blinked slowly, dark eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment before settling again.
And then, as if drawn by instinct, her tiny hand unfurled.
Her fingers wrapped around Tyriq's pinky.
His breath hitched violently.
A sob escaped him before he could stop it. Amira laughed softly through her own tears. The sound was exhausted and watery and full of so much love it made his chest ache.
“She’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”
Tyriq let out a tearful laugh, shaking his head.
He bent forward, pressing a trembling kiss to their daughter’s tiny forehead. Then another to Amira’s.
“Thank you,” he whispered against her skin.
For bringing their daughter into the world.
Amira closed her eyes, leaning into him as their baby rested safely between them. Outside, dawn was beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
And as the first light of morning touched their daughter’s face, Tyriq smiled through his tears.
Their little girl had arrived with the sunrise.
And their whole world had begun again.
The world outside felt impossibly quiet.
After the intensity of the night, after the rush of tears and trembling hands and first cries, the early morning streets seemed almost unreal as Tyriq carefully eased the car through the pale London dawn.
Everything looked washed in gold.
As though the city itself was only just waking.
Inside the car, however, Tyriq's entire world was wide awake.
His eyes kept flicking to the back seat every few seconds, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel despite the deliberately slow pace he was driving.
The infant carrier was secured carefully in the centre seat, exactly as Claire had checked twice before they left. Bundled inside a pale cream blanket, their daughter slept soundly, her tiny face relaxed and impossibly peaceful after the long night.
And beside him, Amira sat reclined in the passenger seat, exhaustion written into every line of her body.
Her head rested lightly against the window, one hand draped protectively over the seatbelt crossing her chest, her eyes heavy but fixed on the small mirror angled toward the baby.
She looked utterly spent.
Hair loosely tied back, skin still flushed, dark circles beginning to settle beneath her eyes.
And yet Tyriq had never seen anything more beautiful.
Just a routine post-birth check, sweetheart, she’d said while helping Amira into fresh clothes. Home births are wonderful, but I want both my girls looked over properly. Standard checks. Nothing to worry about.
Running on no sleep, hearts still racing from the enormity of what had happened only hours earlier, driving toward the hospital with their daughter in the back seat.
Even now, the thought hit Tyriq like something unreal.
At a red light, he glanced sideways and reached for Amira’s hand. His fingers laced carefully through hers.
“How’re you doing, angel?”
His voice was quiet, roughened by exhaustion and emotion.
Amira let out a slow breath, squeezing his hand weakly.
“Sore,” she admitted softly, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. “And shattered.”
A soft huff of laughter escaped him.
Her eyes shifted toward him then, warm despite the fatigue clouding them.
The question made his chest tighten.
He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head.
He glanced toward the rear-view mirror again, his expression crumbling into quiet awe.
“I keep checking to make sure she’s still there.”
That drew a tired, breathy laugh from her.
He nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“She feels too perfect to be real.”
Amira’s eyes softened instantly.
Her gaze drifted back to the tiny sleeping figure behind them, and emotion welled hot and sudden in her throat.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them was full — thick with everything words couldn’t hold.
The memory of her first cry.
The warmth of her against Amira’s chest.
The way Tyriq had sobbed the moment he touched her.
The way dawn had broken just as she entered the world.
It all lingered between them like sacred air.
When they arrived, Ty was at Amira’s side instantly.
One arm wrapped securely around her waist as he helped her from the car, moving with careful gentleness.
Amira winced as her feet touched the pavement.
Tyriq expression tightened immediately.
“I’m okay, baby,” she murmured, leaning into him. “Just sore.”
He kissed her temple without hesitation.
Inside the maternity assessment unit, the warm bustle of nurses and soft beeping monitors greeted them.
Claire had already called ahead, so they were taken through quickly.
The next hour blurred into a series of careful examinations.
A nurse checked Amira’s vitals and recovery, offering quiet reassurance that everything looked exactly as it should.
Another weighed their daughter, checked her reflexes, listened to her tiny heartbeat, examined her breathing.
Each time someone lifted her, Tyriq visibly tensed.
His eyes tracked every movement, his body instinctively leaning forward as though ready to catch her.
Amira caught it and smiled tiredly.
He looked at her, entirely serious.
He was practically vibrating.
The nurse beside them laughed softly.
“Only because you haven’t blinked in twenty minutes.”
Amira let out a quiet laugh, and Tyriq shot her a mock-offended look before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Can you blame me, pretty girl?”
She melted into him instantly.
Not even exhaustion could dull the warmth his affection stirred inside her.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the last nurse returned carrying a clipboard and a bright smile.
“Well,” she said, glancing between them, “both mum and baby are doing beautifully.”
Relief hit them so hard it was almost physical.
Amira sagged into Tyriq's side.
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead briefly to hers.
The nurse smiled at the sight before glancing down to her chart.
“There’s just one last thing, lovelies.”
“What’s your daughter’s name? We’ll need it for her records.”
The question settled over them gently.
For a moment, neither answered.
And just like before — in the birthing pool, with dawn touching their daughter’s skin and tears still wet on both their faces — everything seemed to still.
The moment their little girl would become more than Bub.
She would become herself.
Tyriq brushed his thumb over Amira’s hand, his eyes impossibly soft.
“Want to tell them, angel?”
