#‘Revelation Nausea’

[blastbeatdbeat]

Vomitory - Revelation Nausea

[onlyhurtforaminute]

VOMITORY-THE CORSPEGRINDER EXPERIENCE

[fvsm4x]

✧RE(G)RET ; GOJO SATORU . . . . . CHAP 1.

✧SUMMARY: Pregnancy, usually a positive outcome of love between two partners that love each other deeply. But Pregnancy resulting from someone using you for their own pleasure is far from a positive outcome

— C.W: bully Gojo Satoru x female reader , pregnancy , sexual assault & harassment , mentions of abortion , mature themes/MDNI , bullying , angst , gojo is a dick , 18+ , fingering , sucking , nsfw , mature themes , dirty talk , dubcon

— WORD COUNT: 4.7k+

—A/N: I SWEAR GOJO WILL GET A CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT PLEASE DON‘T COME ATTACKING ME IF I WROTE HIM BEING A DICK

— TAGLIST: @watyousayin @zukowantshishonourback @wiqxx @jhutchlover67 @xxemmarldxx @sadmonke @chilichopsticks @neptunieesworld @sodoney @nessielovesfood @polarbvnny @mwtsxri @mynahx3 @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @reader69sviewpoint @emryb @starlightanyaaa @kiramdd @promiseofeywa @xuxieroll @tqd4455 @wateronlyhaha @stillpanicking @starrylibras @latorsgatorz @melancholysanatomy @cherryblossomly @littledemoness15 @thatsopanu @throwmethroughawindow @xkittiecatx @yihona-san06 @aikuoliverswife @mellow-mewow @r0ckst4rjk @virtuapicklequirkreader @heijihattorisgf @meoneee777 @ih8erika @haitanibros0007 @certainduckanchor @alisonyus @nothisispatrick300

NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling,"No. No. No."

You stared at the pregnancy test in your hand, your breath catching in your throat.

The room seemed to spin around you as you tried to process the reality of the situation. Your hand began to shake uncontrollably, and tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Your heart pounded in your chest, its rhythm erratic and chaotic. Each beat seemed to echo in your ears, a constant reminder of the profound impact this revelation would have on your life. Slowly, your legs gave way beneath you, and you slid down the cold, tiled walls of the bathroom. The coolness seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm raging within.

You glanced at the test again, desperately hoping that it was all just a mistake. But the reality of the situation sank in, causing your lower lip to quiver and tears to stream down your face. In a fit of frustration and despair, you threw the test across the room, its plastic casing clattering against the tiles. The sound seemed to reverberate through the silence, punctuating the gravity of the moment.

Your hands instinctively flew to your face, covering your mouth as you sobbed into them. This couldn't be happening. You weren't ready to become a parent, not yet. You were still in college, still young, and this felt like a cruel twist of fate. But deep down, you knew it wasn't a mistake.

The constant bouts of nausea, the missed periods, and the frequent trips to the bathroom left no room for doubt. You had suspected for a while now, but seeing the positive test confirmed your fears.

Thoughts raced through your mind, each one more frantic than the last. How would you manage your studies and a baby?

You couldn't afford to bring a child into the world right now. You were just 18, still trying to navigate your way through your studies, and you still lived with your parents.

To make things even more challenging, the baby you're carrying is from Gojo Satoru, your bully who took away your virginity without your permission.

—

The room echoed with the unmistakable sound of spurrrr, followed by a sudden splashh. A cold sensation enveloped you as something was poured over your head, and a sticky white liquid began cascading down your form, saturating your hair, uniform, and face. The wet strands of your hair clung to your face, covering your eyes in a veil of dampness.

The once pristine white dress shirt of your uniform became a translucent canvas, revealing the contours beneath as it absorbed the relentless flow of the liquid. A chill ran down your spine as the dampness seeped through the fabric, making you shiver involuntarily.

The table before you, once holding neatly arranged notes, became a collateral victim as drops of the liquid found their way onto your meticulously written papers. The carton responsible for this unexpected deluge was carelessly tossed into the midst of your notes, creating a chaotic scene as the remaining contents gushed out, further drenching everything in its path.

It was milk, strawberry milk.

Your gaze fixated ahead, a mixture of confusion and disbelief clouding your eyes as you attempted to process the unexpected deluge of strawberry milk.

As you stood there, momentarily lost in the aftermath of the incident, the air around you resonated with the muffled sounds of laughter. The echoes of amusement began to pierce through the disorientation, pulling you back to the stark reality of the situation. Laughter, a mocking symphony, surrounded you from all directions, each chuckle and giggle magnifying the embarrassment of your saturated state.

Laughter, laced with mockery, sliced through the air as a voice from behind you jeered, "Man, a pink bra, seriously?", you shifted your gaze downward, only to be met with the sight of the pink bra that had become inadvertently visible through the now translucent fabric of your wet shirt, courtesy of the strawberry milk shower.

A blush crept up your cheeks, and your immediate response was to instinctively raise your hand, hastily covering the exposed upper part. Fumbling with the wet fabric, you desperately scanned your surroundings, searching for your jacket to shield yourself from the prying eyes.

However, before you could make a move, an unexpected force gripped your wrist, tugging you forward. The sudden pull exposed your bra once again, and your eyes shot up to meet the person responsible for the intrusive gesture. Piercing blue eyes and a shock of white hair revealed the identity – it was Gojo.

His gaze lingered, assessing the situation with a faint smirk. "I think it looks cute," he remarked, his eyes lingering on you,

"Your taste is seriously something else..." The voice behind Gojo murmured with a hint of incredulity before retreating into the background, leaving you alone with the enigmatic figure.

Desperation edged into your voice as you muttered, "Let me go," attempting to free your wrist from Gojo's firm grasp. However, your pleas were met with nothing but Gojo's lingering smirk, his piercing blue eyes still focused on you as if savoring the discomfort he'd stirred.

His response, a nonchalant, "No, I don't want to," only tightened his grip, compelling you to raise your hand even further, inadvertently granting him an unimpeded view. The smirk deepened as Gojo's other hand encircled your waist, drawing you closer until your body was flush against his.

The proximity left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, the lingering scent of strawberry milk and the dampness of your clothes creating an uncomfortable backdrop. Gojo, seemingly indifferent to your discomfort, leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "I wonder if your panties are also pink," he teased, his words sending a chill down your spine, widening your eyes in disbelief.

"Wait..." you stammered, attempting to push yourself away, but the maneuver only seemed to pull you closer to him.

A low, contemplative hum escaped Gojo's lips as his hand, previously resting on your waist, began to go down. The touch trailed down your back, skimming the curve of your waist before settling on the contours of your ass cheeks, positioned above your skirtt and then slipping beneath the fabric.

A hushed protest escaped your lips as you whispered, "Stop," the warmth of a blush creeping up your face as his hand delved further, finding its way under your panties, intimately resting on your bare skin. The audacity of the intrusion left you breathless.

"C'mon, don't get shy on me now," Gojo chided with an unsettling nonchalance. "No one's here." His words echoed in the room, and you glanced around, realizing with a sinking feeling that everyone who had occupied the space before had dispersed, leaving you alone in the confined space with Gojo.

"I'm busy, please let go," you pleaded, attempting to push Gojo away, the urgency in your voice belying the embarrassment and discomfort that churned within you.

His response, a taunting, "Don't be shy, I know you want it,"

You felt a shiver as Gojo pressed himself against you, his bulge uncomfortably noticeable against your stomach. His hand, previously holding your wrist, ventured under your dress shirt, revealing the pink bra. Instinctively, your hand moved to intercept his advance, wrapping around his invading hand.

"Please stop," you pleaded, hoping he'd respect your discomfort.

A dismissive "Shut up" escaped Gojo's lips, his grip tightening as he continued, "I know you want it, so let me give it to you." His audacious words hung heavy in the air, making your vulnerability more palpable.

With a furrowed brow, you tried to resist, but the unwelcome touch persisted, leaving you feeling trapped and violated.

"I noticed the way you looked at me," Gojo asserted, "Always in those little skirts, clearly trying to grab my attention~. You wanted me to notice you, and now you have it, so don't act like you didn't ask for this."

His hand, previously on your exposed ass cheek, ventured downward, slipping into the delicate crevice between your cheeks, reaching the wetness at your folds. With a deliberate touch, he pressed two fingers between the folds, skillfully massaging the sensitive flesh, coaxing a whimper from your lips.

"So wet~," he murmured into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced slow circles around your sensitive bud of nerves, his words a seductive whisper, "Just for me, right?"

A whimper escaped your lips, your hand finding its place on Gojo's arm as you attempted to pull him away. In response, Gojo pressed into your clit, evoking a cry from your lips, the sensations tingling through your body.

"Don't try to stop me, sweetheart," Gojo murmured into your ear, his voice a sultry promise that heightened the intensity of the moment. He continued his relentless touch, coaxing more desperate sounds from you, his lips gently kissing the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

"You love this, don't you?" he teased, his words dripping with confidence. "You can't resist me," he continued, his fingers exploring every sensitive inch,

Your attempts to resist only seemed to fuel Gojo's determination. He increased the pressure on your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body, making it harder to focus on anything else.

"Don't fight it," Gojo urged, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear. His fingers danced skillfully, exploring your most intimate areas. "You're mine, and I know exactly what you need."

He punctuated his words with teasing strokes, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he reveled in the effect he had on you. The room seemed to spin as your defenses crumbled under the skillful touch, and your hand, once attempting to pull away, clutched onto Gojo's arm, seeking support in the escalating whirlwind of sensations.

"You're so responsive," he commented, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel you clenching around me." His fingers continued their dance, the rhythm building, pushing you closer to the edge.

As you whimpered in response, "Let go, sweetheart. Embrace the pleasure. You know you want it," Gojo urged.

"I wonder what your brother would think about this," he mused, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Imagine the expression on his face when he discovers his little sister being fingered by his best friend. You truly are a slut..“

A feeble "S-shut up," escaped your lips, the whispered plea laden with a mix of vulnerability and desperation. Your eyes fluttered, slowly rolling back as Gojo inserted a finger, the intimate touch sending a wave of conflicting sensations through your body. A trace of your juices glistened on his hand, a tangible testament to the overwhelming desire that filled the room.

"You're so wet, literally dripping," Gojo observed, his voice a low murmur that echoed the satisfaction in his growing smirk. His free hand went to the cups of your bra, pushing it down and exposing your breasts. Your right breast became the focal point as his hand gripped into its softness. As he descended to an eye level with your exposed breast, his mouth opened, and he latched onto it with an undeniable hunger.

As Gojo's mouth covered your breast, he started sucking on your nipple with evident hunger. His lips sealed tightly around it, and his tongue began teasing circles, sending shivers through your body. The sensations grew more intense as the rhythmic sucking continued, prompting involuntary moans.

In an attempt to resist, you tried to push Gojo away, but he only intensified the suction.

You whimpered as the conflicting sensations of pleasure and resistance enveloped you. Gojo, undeterred by your feeble attempts to resist, continued his relentless assault on your senses. His fingers skillfully worked, dancing over the intimate areas, amplifying the intensity of the encounter.

"Such a good girl, letting yourself feel what you truly desire."

—-

You found yourself seated on the floor, bathed in the dimming sunlight that filtered through the window. The room had taken on a languid hue as the sun descended, marking the culmination of an encounter that seemed to leave more than just physical traces.

Your shirt hung open, showing a pink bra struggling to keep it together after the heated rendezvous. The smeared lipstick and mascara were clear signs of the passionate escapade. As you sat there, your legs trembled, and the lack of panties beneath your skirt hinted at the intimate moments that had unfolded.

The room felt both intimate and lonely as everyone, including Gojo, had left, leaving behind the aftermath of a liaison that blurred the lines between pleasure and regret. The echoes of your recent escapade and the missing panties were the only remnants of Gojo's presence.

At first, you hesitated, reluctant to lose your virginity to someone like Gojo. But eventually, you caved in, and you can't deny it felt good. You shoulder the blame for giving in – you enjoyed it, just like Gojo did.

Gojo is – a jerk, a player, who engages with women, gets what he wants, and then moves on. You unwittingly became one of his victims, transitioning from being bullied by him to being involved intimately with him.

You deeply regret giving in to the situation, feeling an overwhelming sense of remorse. If only you could turn back time and take action to prevent it from happening. But unfortunately, it was too late.

Slowly rising from the cold floor, you hastily grabbed your jacket and tied it around your waist, desperately hoping it would conceal the fact that you were not wearing any underwear at the moment. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you began to make your way towards the exit, your legs trembling and unsteady.

Every movement you made caused a sharp hiss of pain to escape your lips. Your legs were sore from the intense encounter with Gojo, the person who had taken advantage of you. You couldn't help but wonder if he even realized that you were a virgin.

As you retrieved your phone from your backpack and turned it on, you were met with a flood of missed calls and messages from your brother, who happened to be Gojo's best friend. Glancing at the time displayed on the screen, you realized it was already 6 pm. You were supposed to be home by 3 pm, but Gojo had held you captive, causing you to be late. While you doubted your parents would be concerned about your tardiness, your brother certainly would be.

Just as you were contemplating your next move, your phone began to ring, displaying your brother's caller ID. Despite the pain and emotional turmoil you were experiencing, a weak smile formed on your face as you answered the call. The sound of loud shouting immediately filled your ears, a clear indication of your brother's worry and concern for your well-being.

"Where are you?" he shouted anxiously, causing a mixture of emotions to stir within you.

"Don't worry, I'll be home soon," you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper. With your free hand, you carefully wiped away the smudged makeup on your face, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

"I'm asking you where you are!" he yelled once again, his voice filled with frustration and fear.

You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a bittersweet response to his genuine concern. "I got held up here, but I'm fine. Please, don't worry about me," you replied,

„Should I come pick you up?“ he asked, his voice calming down.

You thought for a moment before replying with a short,“yes“

You figured it was better to wait for your brother then walk home, with no panties and sore legs.

Your brother replied,“Okay, I‘ll be there soon, wait for me, yeah?“ before hanging up.

After your brother hung up, you stepped out of the building, greeted by the gentle tones of the setting sun casting its warm glow. The wind played with your hair as you settled down by the stairs, patiently waiting for your brother to arrive and pick you up.

The events of the day echoed in your mind, and the weight of both regret and discomfort lingered. The building's facade cast long shadows as the sun continued its descent, creating a tranquil scene that contrasted with the turmoil within.

As the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and apprehension. It was your brother, finally arriving to pick you up. His concerned expression softened as he laid eyes on you, and you mustered a smile in response.

"I hope you didn't wait too long," he spoke, his gaze lingering on your figure, perhaps noticing the slight dishevelment.

"Don't worry, Suguru," you replied, trying to sound more composed than you felt. Walking together towards his car, the setting sun cast a warm glow over the world, signaling the end of a tumultuous day.

Just as you reached the car, your brother paused and turned to face you. "Oh, before I forget," he began, opening the door for you to get in. "You wanna come with me and Satoru to the bar today? It's your—"

"No," you cut him off abruptly, causing him to look at you with a questioning eye.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's your favorite place," he asked again, genuinely perplexed by your sudden refusal.

"I'm not feeling well. I just want to stay home," you lied, your voice betraying the mix of fear and shame that consumed you. The truth was, you couldn't bear the thought of seeing Gojo again. The fear of facing him, coupled with the overwhelming shame of what had transpired between you, made the idea of going to the bar unbearable.

"If it's because of Sat—" your brother started, only to be interrupted by you once more.

"No," you replied firmly, cutting off any further discussion. Your brother was aware of the constant bullying you endured from Gojo, how he treated you with cruelty and spite. However, he always brushed it off as his best friend's way of dealing with you, believing it to be harmless banter. Little did he know the true extent of the pain you endured.

The weight of the day's events hung heavily in the air, overshadowed by the looming apprehension of your brother discovering the truth. It was a delicate and complicated situation, as your brother shared a deep bond with Gojo, forged through years of friendship. Their connection was akin to that of siblings, and they had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. Both a year older than you.

This closeness only intensified your anxiety about how your brother might react if he were to uncover the events of the day. It wasn't just the fear of his disappointment or anger towards you, but also the possibility that he might side with Gojo, potentially jeopardizing their friendship. The thought of losing your brother was a heavy burden to bear.

You were scared. Scared of the repercussions, scared of the judgment, and scared of the uncertain path that lay ahead.

As you sat in the car, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the night sky, casting a darker hue of blue. The stars twinkled above, creating a mesmerizing backdrop for your thoughts. Lost in your own world, you barely noticed the car coming to a stop until a hand gently rested on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"We're here," your brother muttered, stepping out of the car. You followed suit, opening the door and stepping out into the crisp, chilly air. Suguru closed the car door, and together, you made your way towards the apartment building where your family resided. Each step felt heavy, weighed down by the events of the day.

Entering through the front door, you kicked off your shoes and made your way towards your room. However, before retreating to the solace of your own space, you stopped by the living room where your parents sat, their attention fixated on the television.

"I'm back," you muttered, hoping for some acknowledgment or perhaps even a warm welcome. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as your mother barely glanced in your direction.

Feeling a pang of hunger, you mustered the courage to ask for dinner. "Do you have any food for me? I'm kind of hungry," you spoke, placing your backpack by the couch.

"We already ate, and there's nothing left. Go make your own," your mom replied dismissively, her attention still fixated on the television screen.

Desperate and feeling unwell, you pleaded with her. "Could you please make me something? I don't feel well and just want to lay down."

Her response was cold and unsympathetic. "No, we're busy."

Resigned to your fate, you sighed and picked up your backpack, making your way towards your room. The hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the exhaustion from the day's events weighed heavily on you. You threw yourself onto the bed, feeling drained, both physically and emotionally. A throbbing headache pulsed through your temples, and the pain in your lower body served as a constant reminder of what had transpired earlier.

Though your hunger persisted, you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. The thought of mustering the energy to cook or even eat felt overwhelming. All you wanted was to escape into the solace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring some semblance of peace and healing.

-

"Are you okay?" a concerned voice murmured from behind the closed bathroom door. "You've been in there for a while now. I just want to make sure you're alright."

You glanced up from the positive pregnancy test that lay on the bathroom counter, your eyes meeting the door. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and you struggled to find the words to respond. Instead, you simply stared at the door in silence.

"Are you okay?" your brother's voice came again, filled with worry.

"I'm okay," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Alright," your brother replied, his voice filled with understanding. "I'll wait for you in the living room. If you don't feel up to going anywhere, just let me know. I can go alone."

"No, don't worry. I'll come out in a few and get dressed. Then we can go," you replied, wiping away your tears with your sleeve and slowly getting up from the bathroom floor.

"Alright," your brother's voice drifted away as he walked back towards the living room, his footsteps fading into the distance.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the evidence of your emotional turmoil was apparent – red eyes, swollen cheeks – you looked like a mess. But how could you not, discovering you're pregnant with someone you never wanted to be involved with? Sure, you played a part by giving in three weeks ago, but it was his fault too.

As a university student, you had limited financial resources, relying mostly on the support from your parents. However, they were not particularly generous, and it was Suguru, your brother, who provided the love and financial assistance you needed. Without him, you didn't know how you would have managed. He was the only person who truly cared for you.

You turned on the water tap and cupped your hands, splashing the cool water onto your face in an attempt to calm yourself. It helped, if only momentarily. Drying your face with a towel, you left the bathroom and made your way to your room to get dressed.

What were you supposed to do now? You were barely an adult, and the realization of your pregnancy left you feeling lost and overwhelmed. Without your parents and brother, you had nothing. The thought of them finding out filled you with dread. You couldn't blame them for being disappointed in you. In fact, you were disappointed in yourself too.

What would your brother think? The thought of his disappointment weighed heavily on your heart. You couldn't bear the idea of letting him down. And what if your parents found out? There was no doubt they would be upset. The fear of being kicked out of the house loomed over you, but you pushed those thoughts aside. Dwelling on them would only make them more likely to happen.

And then there was Gojo. How would he react when he found out you were pregnant? Given his track record of casual relationships, it was unlikely he would be thrilled. Would he tell you to get an abortion? Would he offer any help at all? Or would he simply mock you and tell you to deal with it on your own? You knew he wouldn't be happy, and the thought of his potential humiliation and disbelief made you shudder. It was best to keep it a secret, you decided.

As you turned around, ready to face the day, you were met with the stern gaze of your parents. "Explain this to me right now, young lady!" your mother yelled, throwing something at you. You caught it, only to realize it was the forgotten pregnancy test. The room filled with tension as your heart sank,

"I can't believe my daughter is like that. A whore." The accusation hung heavy in the air as your mother's words sliced through the tension. The pregnancy test in your hands became a damning piece of evidence, and you felt the weight of their disappointment.

Your mother's face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "We've been giving you everything – money, food, and a roof under your head – and this is how you repay us? By getting pregnant?"

You struggled to find words, to explain the complexity of the situation, but the lump in your throat made speech nearly impossible.

"What were you thinking?" your father interjected, his voice a mix of frustration and disappointment. "We trusted you, and you've thrown it all away."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you attempted to form an explanation. "I... I didn't plan for this. It's not like I wanted—"

"Don't give us excuses," your mother interrupted, her anger unabated. "This is a disgrace to this family. How could you bring such shame upon us?"

Your brother, having heard the commotion, entered the room. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "What's going on?" he asked,

Your mother pointed at the pregnancy test, her anger not subsiding. "Look at what your sister has done. She's pregnant. Pregnant!"

Your brother's eyes flickered between you and the pregnancy test, an unspoken question etched on his face. The air grew thicker with tension as you struggled to find the right words to explain. Your mother, however, seemed past the point of understanding.

"Get out," she declared, her voice cold and unyielding. "You've brought enough shame to this family. I won't have you tarnishing our reputation any further."

Shock and disbelief painted your brother's face as he tried to interject, "Mom, maybe we can talk about this."

But your mother's anger prevailed. "No more talking. She's made her choice, and now she needs to face the consequences."

As the reality of being kicked out settled in, your heart pounded in your chest. You pleaded with your family, "Please, I didn't plan for this. I need your support now more than ever."

Your mother's expression remained unforgiving. "Support? After what you've done? You're on your own now. We won't enable your irresponsible behavior any longer."

Your brother, torn and unable to defy your mother's decision, could only meet your gaze with a pained expression.

With a final, stern look, your mother declared, "Pack your things and leave. You're no longer welcome here."

Numbness spread through your limbs as you realized the irrevocable shift in your life. Your mother's command hung in the air, and the reality of being disowned by your own family was a crushing weight on your chest.

Staring at the pregnancy test still clutched in your hand, you felt a mix of shame, regret, and desperation. The room, once a haven, now seemed like a foreign place ready to expel you.

[spaghettiposts]

Unspoken Truths

Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.

Words: 4k

There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 

Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 

Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 

Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.

“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 

Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 

It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 

When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 

Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 

The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.

Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.

Clearly…that didn’t happen.

“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.

You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.

Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 

You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 

Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.

You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 

Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.

/-/

It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 

Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.

I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 

Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 

Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 

Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.

“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 

Sweeping it is. 

Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 

Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.

“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 

Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 

You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.

She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.

“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.

Does cheese go in there?

“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 

You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”

Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”

“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.

You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”

Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.

Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.

Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.

Right, the talk.

Fuck. 

You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 

She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 

“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”

You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.

She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“

“Abortion isn’t…?”

“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.

Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 

“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 

Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.

“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 

Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 

“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.

You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”

Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

Smooth.  

“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 

The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-

“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 

“Wait- yes?”

“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.

You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 

You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 

“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 

“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.

Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…

As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 

You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 

/-/

The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 

His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.

Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 

Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.

She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 

Wanda could not sleep.

There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.

Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.

Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.

Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.

Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 

Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.

Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 

/-/

“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 

The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.

Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 

“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 

He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 

You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.

Now it seemed you were expecting two. 

You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”

Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.

Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 

Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.

“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.

“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.

You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”

Missing the disappointed look on her face.

Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.

Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”

Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 

More than you realize.

/-/

“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”

Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”

A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.

“Again?” You clarified.

“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 

“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 

“Steves burgers…” She beamed.

“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 

“With, and grilled please.”

“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 

Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”

You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  

“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 

Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?

/-/

“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.

You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 

Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.

Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”

“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 

That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 

Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.

She kissed you.

And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”

Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”

Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.

“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.

Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”

“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 

It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 

[hanafubukki]

Hello hello, sorry to barge in suddenly

I love ur content XD especially the family themed with Lilia. #1 Bat dad got me weak in the knees.

I do love to think that Lilia would be OBSESSED with his pregnant wife and unborn child, literally glued to his wife since he found out that she got pregnant and even when the child is born? Man won't let you alone.

What do you think? I love me some family fluff content with this bat dad

Hello Anonie 💞💚💙

Thank you so much 💞☺️ I’m happy that you like my posts. You don’t have to apologize Anonie, I enjoy getting asks.

Lilia with his family is an absolute fave of mine to write about. Him with babies?? *shakes you* my favorite kind of tea.

I was reading a manhwa and remembered this ask because there was this moment that a husband went through for his wife that had me going “Yes! Lilia would have that!!” 😆😎

✨sympathy pregnancy✨ it’s when the expecting partner (and in some rare cases, very close friends) experience the symptoms and behaviors of expectant mothers.

You know I’m just going to take this idea and run with it 🤣🫶

The day you and Lilia find out you’re pregnant is one of joy. It’s not a shock to anyone really. The way he’s practically by your side when he’s not with his boys, Lilia doesn’t hide the fact that he adores you.

He really doesn’t. In fact, Maleficia, herself, was waiting for the day she’d receive a letter about your pregnancy from Malleus. Everyone knew.

It was a good idea that Lilia spent some nights in your dorm.

When you start showing signs of fatigue and nausea, you visit a healer with Lilia by your side. Where you born receive the news. Both of you are over the moon, but Lilia looks ready to actually jump as high as the moon.

Your pregnancy comes with a few hiccups. Nausea in the morning. Fatigue. Appetite changes. Aches. It wasn’t easy for you once your pregnancy symptoms kicked in.

Throughout all this, Lilia was by your side. Helping you the best he could. If he wasn’t by your side, one of the boys was.

After a hard day of symptoms, of which Mrs. Zigvolt stated was normal for someone having a half fae and half human baby, Lilia couldn’t help but feel guilty. You’re human after all, it would be harder for you to deal with this baby. He wished he could help you.

The next few days, surprisingly, you felt better? You could eat more. Your body aches lowered and your fatigue practically disappeared.

But you noticed Lilia…seemed a little off. He tried to hide it but you knew his tics by now. When he suddenly got nauseous one day, you asked Malleus to call the healer.

The healer merely announced Lilia suffering from sympathy pregnancy. Rare amongst human and fae kind, but not unheard of. Eventually, it would pass.

You felt bad for Lilia but his boys on the other had:

“The dedication Lord Lilia serves is an example for us all!”

“Father will need medication to handle his symptoms.”

“How supportive you are, Lilia. Maybe I should ask the royal scriptors to write about your romantic tales.”

You knew If he wasn’t so nauseated, Lilia would be berating them.

Even after the revelation, Lilia was determined to stay by your side. Content that you were feeling well and full of energy.

He became the talk of town, but nothing he didn’t handle with pride and quips.

As time went on, the symptoms mellowed out. Soon, a new member of the family joined. Healthy and already loved more than the number of stars in the sky.

This kind of got away from me lol 😆 it’s been awhile since I’ve been this chaotic with an ask, especially for Lilia, so I hope you enjoyed. 🫶💞

You could probably see where I ran out of steam lol

The manhwa that inspired this is “I Failed to Divorce my Husband.”

[mrmeowski]

˚✧𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐏𝐭. 𝟐/𝟐✧˚

Synopsis: You never imagined that after a year in this place, you'd be carrying the kid of some celestial being. To be honest, you were terrified; you had no idea this would happen, and he had never discussed it. You hesitated initially to tell him, but as things became too difficult to conceal, you gave in and informed him of the news, unsure how he'd take it.

CW: Slight angst, Lesson 76 spoiler [End part of Simeon's], faintly mentions breeding kink [Michael]

Word Count: 4.6k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Barbatos [746] 💜༻✧ Diavolo [692] 🧡༻✧ Mephistopheles [599] 💜༻✧ Michael [692] 🧡༻✧ Raphael [690] 💜༻✧ Simeon [728] 🧡༻✧ Solomon [520] Surprise Pregnancy Pt. 1/2»

⋇⊰BARBATOS⊱⋇

The ever-vigilant butler detected a problem before you even noticed it. Barbatos has become accustomed to your regular visits to the Demon Lord's Castle and is always at the entryway to greet you. So when your customary arrival time passed, he patiently waited; perhaps something came up and you had to delay. However, his patience has dwindled, and his wait has become longer.

Before he was able to figure it out on his own, you sent a message indicating that you were feeling nauseated and were unable to make it to the castle. He scowled; this wasn't enough; people don't go around feeling ill for no cause. Because you insisted on leaving the matter and not taking it seriously, he knew you wouldn't bring more information. So he took action, using his ability to see into the past. The Young Master instructed him not to use this incredible talent whenever he felt like it, but when it came to you... it is necessary.

He wanted to know whether he had put something on your food that made you feel that way, but he came up empty-handed because everything he provided you, drinks and food, was in excellent condition. He considered other details that he had overlooked in the past, such as whether you or someone else touched you and caused you to have the illness. Again, nothing came to pass. Feeling defeated, he instead looked ahead to see if your illness worsens.

His fear came to be, it intensified to the point that you began to vomit. Still, he can't find the source of your nausea. Until a specific day, you had a positive pregnancy test. The demon butler's blood went cold. He needed to take a breather but wanted to know if things went well in the end. A human pregnant with a demon child is not and never will be safe for the mother! So, even if he didn't want to, he went forward, further into the future. He witnessed all feasible branches, all of which resulted in your death, the kid's death, or, worst of all, both dying.

The butler doesn't realize he's crying and he needs to stop. He had always been so strong and composed, but now he was a wreck. Despite the sadness and pain, he saw a ray of hope. A path that allows you to both survive and thrive. He needed to direct you and his child there. Abandoning all of his duties for a short while—Diavolo must understood his reasoning—he went to the House of Lamentation without asking for permission to enter then straight to your room.

He was the one who informed you of your pregnancy. You had no idea—you didn't even suspect it! His red bulging eyes indicated that he had seen something, and if he wanted to keep his young one, it had to be nice. You simply trusted him throughout the future voyage. After the revelation, you very much lived at the Demon Lord's Castle, much to the dismay of the brothers, with the exception of Lucifer. The Demon Prince and the firstborn were the only ones who knew about this.

The butler still performs his young master's tasks, much to the latter's dismay, as he had advocated devoting his time completely to you, but your demon persisted. You always have herbal tea along with foods that are soothing for you and your child. But, despite all of this delight, he occasionally wonders about the road he has chosen, fearing that if he makes one mistake, he will ruin everything.

But he doesn't have to worry any longer, because you were under ideal conditions, at least for a human bearing a demon child. Even though he has seen everything and has a torture chamber in the castle's depths, he can't bring himself to look at your pained countenance and those troubled gasps. He felt his stomach twist and spin as it does when he sees rodents, but this time it was far worse. He hoped for a happy ending and to see his little one in your arms. He did everything correctly, and there was nothing—

He opened his eyes and heard a wail, but it wasn't from you; it was from a child. Then a nurse approached him and congratulated him, but he paid them little heed. His eyes fixed on your shape, beaming at him, and there in your eyes was his little one. He couldn't be happier.

⋇⊰DIAVOLO⊱⋇

You didn't know how to tell him; you were afraid, afraid of what the people would think. From the start, there were concerns about Diavolo's ability to reign especially given his young age—for a demon. If his heir is half-human, the kingdom will judge him! All of these things make your head pound, and even though the Demon Prince is preoccupied with paperwork, he knows something's been bothering you.

When you told him the news, he fell silent, and his smile couldn't help but flatten. That look, he was upset, and it was evident he did not want the baby. It saddens you, but you fully understand him. So you suggested not keeping the child, which surprised him. He can see in your eyes that you are going against your own statements, so he asks you why you didn't want to have the child. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but smile when he heard your explanation.

The prince is unconcerned about what his people think of him; he can withstand any backlash from those lowly demons! But... he does worry about your health. A human carrying a demon spawn is never safe, but his genealogy includes one of the most powerful demons in existence. He knew killing it was the wisest option, but he also wanted to keep this young. If things had gone differently, this would have been the joyous day of his life.

So, even though the odds are stacked against you, he entrusts his most loyal butler to guide him and you all the way. Being assured by the latter that there is a chance, you persisted in keeping the child. The demon prince could never be against you, and he did leave the option for you; even if he hadn't, his response would have been the same as yours.

Since everything is settled, he throws a large celebration to inform the Devildom that there will be an heir to the throne. You were against it when he originally told you, but after witnessing how deflated he became, you gave in and let the man be. After all, if someone is brave enough to abduct or worse, attack you, you know you're in capable hands. In addition, you have the seven brothers' pacts.

He connects you with the best doctors in Devildom and even transports you back to your realm, for reasons you don't question. It bothers him, but he can't abandon all of his obligations to this kingdom, and because he knows Barbatos wouldn't have enough time to care for you, he entrusts his right-hand man to do so when he can't. Your lover does his best to be there for you, especially during the last few months.

He absolutely loves to feel your baby bump, especially when his little one's active and kicking. It implies that they are healthy and alive whilst you're in great condition. He can't get enough of it, so sometimes you have to stop him, and he pouts, which makes you feel horrible so you'll let him continue, then the cycle begins. These are the instances when he forgets the consequences of keeping the child.

When you go into labor, there are already far too many nurses available to assist you. Throughout, he sat by you, playing with your hair and telling you that you were doing well. He may appear calm on the outside, but deep inside, he is terrified. Even though he knew the butler would not fail him, he began to question Barbatos' perceptions. The prince lost his mother when she gave birth to him, and he can't bear losing you.

Everything went silent until his ears caught up with the cries of his young. He couldn't breathe, his heart was about to burst as he clutched the child. He makes certain you are well and alive, which you are, and he feels so... blessed to have started a family with you without dire consequences. His childhood was sheltered and lonely; he will not repeat his father's mistakes. He'll make sure his young can go out and see the world, to have many, genuine friends.

⋇⊰MEPHISTOPHELES⊱⋇

The man choked on the Hell Coffee you prepared for him, nearly spitting it on the paperwork. With wide eyes, he peered around the room, asking that there be cameras and that someone cry, "Got you!" but none of that happened. He was scared; why wouldn't he be? You are bearing his child; it is a demonic child! If you hadn't soothed him, he might have fainted right there and then.

After calming down, he felt... quite good, perhaps even great. Knowing that it was his child, not Lucifer's, he felt awful that Diavolo had taken a liking to you, but at this point, he didn't pay attention to them. His thoughts were completely on you and his upcoming child. He had always had a soft place for children and had considered having one with you, even if it was adopted, after watching how you interact with Luke. So this was absolutely wonderful, and it was his own blood!

With claims that he is richer than the Demon Prince, there was no need to worry about the cost of baby clothes and toys. He was pleased to be shopping at the mall, and it felt surreal that it was actually happening. You should expect nothing less than the best treatment from him and his employees. If one of them dares to touch you in the wrong way, they should wish for a speedy death since he will not be the only one who wants to hear their cries.

Rubs it hard on Lucifer, enraging him, but he can't do anything since you'll stop him, making Mephisto even more smug. In addition to gloating to the Avatar of Pride, he reads about demonic-human pregnancy but finds little information on it. However, if this is successful, he will ask for your permission to publish it in the newspaper. He sincerely hopes it works out, but he is afraid he may lose you, the baby, or both.

If he isn't available—due to work or family obligations—he'll have his salamander with you so you have a piece of him on your side. He is confident you will take good care of the adorable salamander! Perhaps you can educate him on how to behave, as the demon cannot seem to. When he is there, he'll be glued to your side, wherever you are, he's just one step behind you ready to buy you something or pounce at anyone and anything.

Feeling the baby bump is still surreal to him; he feels like he'll waking up in a dream. But then he feels his little love kick and move, and he realizes... he knows it's all true, and this will be a new exciting chapter in his life.

His fear had surfaced; he had always pushed it aside, focusing solely on the brilliant sight of this strange pregnancy. He was uneasy whenever you gasped in pain, but he stayed by your side even when he wanted to vomit or pass out. It was a long and difficult process, but it was all worthwhile, and he is so proud to have stayed by your side, all the while commenting on how well you were doing and that everything will be alright.

As he carried his little demon, he whispered a quiet vow into their ears. He may be unable to perform his duties as Diavolo's right-hand man, but he will ensure that he is the perfect father for his child. He will not fail this time; he has a new purpose, one that can only be achieved by him, not Lucifer or anyone else.

⋇⊰MICHAEL⊱⋇

He may or may not have laughed in your face when you delivered him the news, believing it was a cruel joke and that you wanted him to feel something. But when you kept silent with a wounded expression on your face, he realized you weren't joking. He felt his heart plummet; first and foremost, he had no idea this was conceivable! There were only a few instances when he indulged himself with you, and in those handful of times he somehow... created life in you?

Despite the shocking revelations, Michael is unable to refuse the child, but he also cannot risk losing you. He was still in denial, asking you whether you were mistaken and that... It isn't his child—saying that pains him—and you didn't respond; instead, you gave him a look to dismiss the concept.

Your relationship with him has always been kept private; if it were to be revealed, he would fear the sanctions that his Father would impose on him, particularly on you. He knew he'd be the one to shoulder the repercussions, but now that you bear his child, he's not sure. He can be guaranteed that at least one person will come to his help. Simeon.

The angel may not like him, but he doesn't care; as long as your life is in danger, he knows Simeon would aid, and the man does. Unfortunately, he is unable to be present at all times to care for you, so he delegated responsibility to Raphael. Whenever he has the chance, he'll immediately be by your side, asking how you're doing and if everything is okay. He is overjoyed to learn that there's a path you and his little angel will live a flourishing life.

Being as strong as he is, even in his absence, he can be confident that the protective blessing he bestowed upon you will be activated when danger approaches. Absolutely babies you; he is known to exhaust people that were beneath him with a slew of responsibilities, yet when it comes to you, he won't even let you lift a finger for assistance. Especially today, given your current situation. It can be a strain at times, but you can't stop him; he appears to enjoy doing these things for you, and it's his way of showing you how important you are, as does this child.

During his break, he'd read about parenting since he knew nothing about it. When he discovered that the baby could hear outside voices even while in the womb, he began telling your stories about him and the brothers as well as Simeon and Raphael. He would go on and on, and if given the opportunity, he would stay with you all day, but he cannot abandon the Celestial Realm's responsibilities.

When the bump becomes evident, he seems unable to move his gaze away from it. His hands remained on them, feeling his child's kicks and movements. He has never thought about love or family, and he is unaware that he is capable of having children. Whenever Father makes an angel, they are his younger sibling and he is their older brother, never their father. He can't put into words the emotions that are stirring inside him. Fear and excitement were obvious... however, there was something else with them. It was... a thrill to see you carry his child and his alone. He sort of wants to put another...

He hasn't paid attention to it since the day came. He flew down to Devildom under the cover of the Demon Prince, hoping to speak with him. Although they did discuss RAD, the genuine explanation is that you are giving birth. He stayed at your side, but he was struggling; he hadn't been exposed to much pain, and the most recent was The Fall, which occurred centuries ago.

As soon as his little angel was born, the man squealed, the most composed and feared angel squeaked like a rat when he saw the second most beautiful being. He cradled his little dove with such care and affection. What a miracle... and his mind cannot help but recall his earlier desires.

⋇⊰RAPHAEL⊱⋇

You needed to tell him somewhere quiet so he would feel at ease; this is where the child was made, the garden grounds of Purgatory. He was a little perplexed, as you could see in his eyes, and when you broke the news, he fell silent. The air from his lungs was removed. He was afraid. I'm terrified of what can happen, and I'm worried about you. That gaze shattered your heart, and you suggested not keeping the child, but to your surprise, he declined. He is scared, but he knows there is hope, and there is only one way to find it: he knows of an angel who would not snitch on Michael or his Father, and who also admired you.

Simeon was thrilled with the news, but Raphael knew deep down that the latter did not take it well, as seen by the faint quiver in the angel's eyes. Nevertheless, he assisted them in taking the situation directly to the Demon Prince. This made him nervous, but it was the only way to secure your safety while carrying this miracle of a child. He held out hope while he waited for the butler to discover such a passage, and there it was.

Despite being in the Devildom, Michael would still load him with a slew of tasks, so he couldn't always attend to you, much to his dismay. Sometimes he takes the fall and slacks a little; the other angels can handle it, and he has other problems to attend to—he's having his own child, which no one expected! You always surprise them. It was fate that Lucifer chose you as the other human exchange student.

The seraphim has long been known as someone not to mess with unless you want to be pelted with spears. He was protective of you back then, but not overwhelming; nevertheless, this cannot be stated today. As a small nuisance, he is prepared to spear down the lesser demons. He does not allow anyone other than the demon and angel brethren to come near you. He'd be right behind you, giving them a filthy look.

He has always struggled to express himself verbally, therefore he does so through his actions. Even if he's worn out, he'll do anything for you, such as carry heavy objects, he may not be the finest cook, but he'll give it his best shot. He put in so much effort that you could see him reading about pregnancy, the dos and don'ts. It's rather adorable. There is one thing he can accomplish with words: sing. He enjoys singing for the brothers back then, and he enjoys it even more now with you and his child. His voice is so calming that it sometimes puts you to sleep.

Because he does not want the others to find out and the news to spread to the Celestial Realm, relocating you to the palace grounds and returning you to the human realm is the best option for both of you. Ah, but don't worry, he'll be your guardian angel when you return home—he promises. You insisted on safeguarding your child instead, but he declined because you were still more important to him, and it has been shown that angels can... reproduce with humans so it's not something to worry about that much.

Your labor day was a nightmare for the nurses, as your beloved stood behind them, observing every movement they made like a hawk with its prey, only he had a spear. He was prepared to tear the nurses apart if they made even the smallest error. You wanted to beg him to settle down, but the pain was tremendous, consuming your entire being.

He only dropped the spear when he saw his baby was born. He let you hold them first, adoring his child, noticing all the similarities between you and him, it was a fine piece of art. Even if you'll be leaving this realm soon, he promises his child that he will be there for them when they need him the most and that he will give his life to protect them and you.

⋇⊰SIMEON⊱⋇

When the results come back positive, you won't believe it. You had no idea how to tell him, let alone that it was conceivable to have children with an angel. But when you told him, there was a great smile on his face, but it was evident that he wasn't sure. Your connection has always been kept private; if words were leaked back into the Celestial Realm, he fears what may happen. However, it was too late; he was too in love with you, and there was no turning back. Then again, Simeon was never too concerned with his realm's rules...

Since his kind doesn't procreate as humans and demons do, they're wielded into life by his Father, so this was a miracle and... a curse. He doesn't know what will happen. If you'd be safe he could be normal. So he seeks the help of the Demon Prince and his utmost royal butler. He knew doesn't sit right with the prince but if it was about you, he knew Diavolo would help him and his intuitions were right.

Barbatos anticipated a road where you and your kid would be secure, but the residual fear haunts him. How could he explain this to Luke and Raphael? If a young kid comes around calling him dad, he's done for. He is adamant that you and his child would not be affected but in his case... it will not be the same.

There were no major changes in how he treated you since he has always been a gentleman to you. Even if there isn't a bump, his hand can't help but touch and feel your stomach; vaguely, he can sense the essence of life. He still can't believe he'll be starting a family with you. He has written about this—not exactly you and him, but characters loosely based on the two of you. Back then, he believed it was an impossible fantasy, but love always finds a way.

Only a few people, including those who aided along with Lucifer, are aware of this revelation. He needed to understand why you were spending so much time in the Purgatory. Solomon caught up on your regular trips, but he didn't mind because you'd been spending the majority of your time with the brothers. Luke and Raphael, on the other hand, were completely unaware of it.

As the months passed and you felt it more and more, the bumps became more visible and difficult to hide. You stayed in the Demon Prince's palace grounds until the child was born to reduce the possibility of the story spreading. When the young is born, you will be sent back to your world; you have overstayed your welcome in Devildom, and it is about time. This... it pained the angel that he wouldn't be able to visit you and his child as frequently, but he knew it would be safer.

When the dreaded day had come, he was only able to watch the first part until he feels a bit to faint and had to leave. He feels guilty that he can't be there but even if he was he knew he'd faint on the floor and only cause more trouble and stress for the nurse as well as you which he doesn't want. Minutes had passed and the nurse came outside before she could say anything he rushed for the room.

He breathed a sigh of relief, there you were, and his little angel. It was a sight that he'd cherish until his own demise. He held the kids so gently like they were feathers. Even if he could not be always present in their lives, he promised them that he'd give them the best life he could. Speaking of which, you only stayed at the Devildom for a week before... you needed to leave. No one was there but the four who knew.

But it doesn't end there; not long after you return to your realm. There came a knock on the door, and your angel appeared. He seemed a little too happy. That's when he revealed that he had become human, just like you. You questioned him how and what he did, but he didn't answer. He simply hugged and twirled you in his arms. You felt horrible, but also... good. Finally, you would be together with nothing keeping you back.

⋇⊰SOLOMON⊱⋇

He wasn't even surprised when you told him the news; he seemed to be expecting it. You assumed he'd be concerned, but the broad grin on his face says otherwise. He never considered having a family until he met you. It was then that he realized he would have the finest future with you.

He always passively aggressively rubs it into all of the brothers, especially the eldest, whenever he gets the chance. He's way too cocky when people get envious or annoyed, knowing they can't hurt him because of you. No matter how many times you beg him to stop, he continues to do it, this time behind your back. The only way you learn about it is when a white-haired demon comes to you and complains about your lover's teasing.

Protecting you had become his pastime, and he had even forgotten that he had cast the protective magic for you. Said hobby only grew following the news, bordering on overprotectiveness. He'd be busy searching for and manufacturing remedies to help you get through the adventure. He reads about parenting because he hasn't had any experience with children in a long time—except for Luke but he's an angel and not a human.

Because Asmo is displeased with the sorcerer, Solomon commands begs him to assist you and him to purchase baby clothes and toys! The Avatar of Lust was left with no other choice, but in the end, he appreciated it, as did your significant other.

There is one thing that your partner believes will be the ideal method to express his love for you:... Cooking for you! You claimed you nearly fainted at those remarks. You pleaded with him to take culinary lessons from Barbatos or to at least follow the recipes exactly and not add anything else. That kind of upsets him, but he had heard that when pregnant, one's sense of smell and taste intensifies, so he disregarded it as his meals being more 'spicy' than usual.

But even then, you had to triple—quadruple that he didn't add anything or that he didn't mix salt and sugar like the last time. You can't dismiss him, especially because he seemed to be pleased with what he has made, so you gave in... Surprisingly, it was edible; while the flavor is still a little odd, you can eat it! He must be taking your situation very seriously, which makes you happy.

Since you're back in the human realm, he thinks you and your child are the prettiest home and husband material—but don't count his cooking abilities, even if they improve. You're frightened he'll revert to his old ways.

The sorcerer is well prepared for the labor; the smallest sign and you're straight to the hospital bed. He did his best to calm down and soothe you; unlike the others, he is much better at keeping his cool. He's ecstatic to hold his tiny darling, his smile so wide it hurts as he slowly rocks the bundle of joy. He can't believe that you and he created something so gorgeous, the again the mother is magnificent.

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[andreafmn]

Ours | Derek Hale Oneshot

Word Count: 3.5K Requested by @gracelynn318: "Derek or Stiles finding out that their significant other (the reader) is pregnant and they try to keep it secret for as long as possible" Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms (vomiting, nausea, fatigue)

Summary: Derek Hale and (Y/N) have been together for a long time, and they didn't know something was missing from their lives until it arrived unexpectedly. And all they want to do is revel in the moment for as long as they can, by themselves.

A/N: this story follows 0% of canon, just the character's names. will admit. I am a horrible Teen Wolf fan that has yet to see season 5 and 6, and I've also yet to watch the movie. So, definitely an AU 😬also, be on the lookout for tonight or tomorrow for another surprise regarding this request 😉😉

Derek had noticed the change long before (Y/N) had. Long before she knew why she spent her days expelling her meals down the toilet drain, before she understood why her body craved more food than she could keep down, before she had even noticed that a month had passed and her period had not arrived. 

It came late at night. The soft putter of a heartbeat that felt so far that it could have been confused with the sound of rain against the pavement. They had been lying in bed, the exhaustion of living in Beacon Hills the only thing they needed to crash at night. But the sound had been bothering Derek. The continuous rhythm didn’t allow the wolf to lose himself in much-needed slumber. The sound kept him up, especially from where it was coming from. 

“(Y/N),” he whispered, running his hand up and down her arm to wake her. “(Y/N), baby, wake up.” 

“Mm,” she groaned groggily, cuddling to his body tightly. “Go to sleep, Derek.” 

 “(Y/N), I gotta ask you something. Wake up.” 

“We can talk in the morning,” she whined. “I’m tired right now.” 

“It’s important,” he chuckled softly. “I need your complete focus.” 

With a loud exhale, (Y/N) sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The sheet fell from her torso, and the coldness of the night made her skin erupt in goosebumps. She rarely got angry with Derek, but she was coming quite close at that very moment. “You better have a good reason to wake me, Der,” she said. “I’m so tired I might just put off killing you until tomorrow.” 

“Listen, please,” he said. “When was the last time you got your period?” 

“What?” the girl questioned. “You seriously just woke me up to ask about my cycle?” 

“More or less. Just answer. Did you get it last month?” 

It took her a moment to think. The grogginess of being woken up still clutched her mind, and recounting the past weeks was hard. But her body startled awake as she realized she had not gotten her shark week in a month and a half. That fact alone did not scare her. She had always been irregular, and in moments of stress, it was more likely than not that she skipped a cycle. The problem was that not only had she missed a period, she had been feeling sick for the past three weeks. And the math was not too hard to do. 

“I-I didn’t,” she stammered. “W-why are you asking?”

“Oh my god,” he answered. “Oh my god!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, Derek pressed his ear to her stomach until he could hear the sound clearly. Alongside (Y/N)’s quickening heartbeat, a quieter, steady pattern joined. It was too indistinguishable now. “You’re pregnant,” he said. So quiet he wasn’t sure if he had said it at all. “There’s a baby in there. Our baby.” 

“Pregnant…” (Y/N) could not believe the word even as it rolled out of her tongue. “I can’t believe it.” 

“We’ll go to Deaton tomorrow, but I’m certain. I can hear their heart beating in there.” 

(Y/N)’s mind was reeling. Pregnant, she thought to herself. The word felt foreign. So did her body. Derek had noticed the change before her. How could she not have known that a life was growing inside her? How could she ever be a mother when she did not even know herself?  

Without realizing it, tears fell down her cheeks. She felt weak and panicked. The strong woman that had faced the biggest dangers and far scarier monsters trembled with the thought of a life depending on her for survival. It was one thing to volunteer to protect the members of the pack. They were old enough to fend for themselves. It was another to be responsible for the life and survival of another human. 

“Hey,” Derek called. His voice sounded like it was underwater. So far away that she could barely hear it. “Baby, what’s going on?” 

She hadn’t noticed that she had stood from the bed and was pacing around their room. Her breathing was shallow, and her chest heaved as she took in short breaths, trying to steady herself. Tears kept falling faster than she could wipe them away. They warmed her cheeks before the air turned them cold. It was the only thing that grounded her. 

And Derek. Always Derek. 

He had gotten off the bed, and within a second, he was wrapping his arms around her. The warmth from his skin calmed her. It brought her senses back to the moment, steadying her rampant heart. 

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he spoke into the crook of her neck. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”  

“I’m scared, Derek,” she sighed, tightening her grip around him. “A baby. Here. Now.”  

“Why not here?” Derek smiled, his hands running through her hair. “Why not now? With you as their mother, that baby could be born underground, and they would be the luckiest child in the world.” 

“How could you be so sure?” (Y/N) cried. “I forget things all the time, I’m clumsy, I can barely redeem myself when it comes to fighting. If it weren’t for my weapons, I wouldn’t bring much to the fight against our enemies. What good would I be to protect a child? How could I be entrusted with their entire upbringing?” 

“Oh, (Y/N). You’re far more valuable than what you bring to a fight.” His hands cradled her face, the green of his eyes boring into hers. “You are the most caring person I know. If it weren’t for you, I would have killed half of the pack by now. You’re smart. You’re funny. And if anyone should be terrified of becoming a parent, it should be me.” 

“Come on,” she scoffed jokingly, her tears finally subsiding. “You’d be an amazing father. Temperamental, but great nonetheless.” 

“Well, I’m glad it at least got you laughing,” he grinned. “How about we just take this one day at a time, baby? Make sure we take things slow. Tell people on our own time. Instead of going to the doctor, we buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy; confirm what I already know.” 

“But if you can hear the heartbeat, I am sure all the other wolves will, too,” she worried. “How am I supposed to take things as they come when everyone will know the second they come here?” 

“Then, I won’t let anyone back here,” he smiled. “I’ll have them meet me at the warehouse or at Argent’s place. We can say you’re sick with something and won’t be there. Or that you went to visit family out of state –I don’t know. The point is, we can do this, baby. I know we can.” 

“Well, I do admire your tenacity,” she chuckled, kissing his lips softly and hugging him again. “One day at a time, right?” 

“One day at a time.” 

And it worked. For two months, at least. 

That very morning, he went out and returned home with five pregnancy tests and a bouquet of flowers. And five minutes later, they all showed an array of dark pink plus signs and the word Pregnant on them. Just like that, it had been confirmed. A new baby Hale would be coming to Beacon Hills in eight months. 

They were excited. Of course, they were. But they couldn’t help the terror that overtook them as well. Bringing a new life into their world was a scary thought. The fact that anyone with knowledge of their child could use them against them was terrifying. Still, they wanted that baby more than anything they had wanted before. 

The child that grew inside of (Y/N) was the tangible representation of their love. Evidence that everything life had thrown at them had not been able to push them apart, not for a second. They had been through hell and back, always together, and they had come out of every single occasion stronger than before. That baby was the final piece to their equation. 

The next day, they went to the first available OB/GYN about an hour from the town. The doctor confirmed what they already knew, adding the new fact that she was around seven weeks along. The process was more than uncomfortable, but the result was well worth it. A tiny blob appeared on the screen, and the sound of a rapid heartbeat filled their ears. It made tears well up in their eyes. That tiny thing would soon turn into their baby. And even though it didn’t even have a distinguishable shape, they had fallen in love with them. 

At first, they thought they would pass the first trimester in bliss. That they would only grow more and more excited as the days passed. And they would have. Had it not been for all the symptoms that overtook (Y/N). 

She spent most of her day hunched over the toilet seat, emptying whatever was in her stomach. Even when she thought she could keep food down, an hour or two later, she would be in the bathroom letting it out. And if she wasn’t vomiting, she was ransacked with deep waves of nausea. Then, her breasts started to swell, painful jabs running through her every few days. In addition to heartburn and fatigue, it made her question just how worth it a baby could be. 

But Derek had been attentive as ever, if not a little overbearing. He had kept his promise of moving where the meetings were held, claiming that the loft was under renovation while (Y/N) was out of town for a bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. He used his downtime to clean up around the house and fix things he had put off for far too long. 

He fed her saltine crackers and electrolyte drinks, rubbed her back, and held her hair, and he loved her. Every day and every night, he loved her. Even when he had to stay up cleaning the bathroom or he had to carry her back to bed. He loved her through everything. 

“You did this to me,” she had groaned one day. “All I want is to eat chips and pickles, but I can’t keep anything down.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he responded, drawing circles on her back as he cradled her body in the bathroom. “Hopefully, in a week, it’ll subside. You’re almost out of the first trimester, and the morning sickness should get better.”

“Stop reading pregnancy books,” she whined. “By the time this bun is fully baked, you’ll know more than me.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Derek chuckled but swallowed his laughter as (Y/N) gifted him an angry scowl. “Okay, okay. I think the ten books I’ve read will do.”

(Y/N) remained quiet and threw her head against his chest. His arms snaked around her body, a comfort she allowed herself to sink into. The warmth from his body felt nice against her shivering skin. But just his presence was enough to comfort her, regardless of the words she spoke. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been snappy these past few days,” she sighed. Her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms tighter around her, her head falling against his chest. “I love this baby, and I love you, but I don’t love puking all the time. And peeing all the time. And being tired all the time. I want to fast forward to the next few months.” 

“Hey, you can be snappy with me all you want. I can take it,” he said with a smile. “I will be right here every step of the way because I love you. More than you could ever know.” 

“Even when I’m all big and bloated?” (Y/N) chuckled, her hands falling onto the growing small bump. “They're already trying to deform my body.” 

“Well, at least you’re glowing.”

“No,” she sighed. “That’s just sweat.”

“Then you look beautiful covered in sweat,” he laughed. “Now, let’s get you to bed. Alright?” 

(Y/N) could only nod and wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her back to bed, laying right next to her. Even if he couldn’t take this discomfort away, he was trying his best to make things better for her. 

Another week passed, and things started to shift. The woman would only occasionally feel the need to throw up her food, but the constant nausea and heartburn had subsided. And once (Y/N) saw her baby's small fingers and feet in their 12-week ultrasound, she knew it had all been worth it. 

She also knew they couldn’t keep the secret to themselves any longer. 

The pack had become angsty. Wondering when (Y/N) would be coming back from her supposed trip. Two and a half months was far too long to just be with family. With no imminent danger in sight, they had too much time to check up on everyone else. 

“I think it’s time we tell them,” (Y/N) told Derek as they watched a movie. She cradled her small bump, something she had unconsciously started to do. “We’re almost at the five-month mark, and I think it’ll be too hard to hide.”

“Do we really?” he groaned. “I can just keep you hidden here until the nine months are up. They don’t have to know a thing.”

“You would really keep the mother of your child sequestered in these walls until I give birth?”

“Maybe even more,” he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep you here forever.”

“You’re quite funny, Mr. Hale,” she chuckled. “But they are our friends —our family. They deserve to know there’s one more person to protect.”

“I’ve just really liked this time,” he sighed. His chin rested on her shoulder, his beard tickling her exposed skin. “You know, just you and me. Basking in the time we won’t have once everyone knows and once the baby is here. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, (Y/N). A family of my own, that I can love and protect. A home that’s ours.”

“And we will have that,” she smiled. “We’re just allowing more love in. The best part, at the end of the day, we can just kick them out.” 

“When you put it that way,” he laughed before kissing her lips, savoring her. “Alright, fine. We’ll tell them next Saturday.” 

“Thank you, Der. It’s gonna be great.”

And it should have. 

Had it not been for the million things that went wrong that week. The A/C was busted for a total of four days, a pipe burst in one of the bathrooms, the paint they had ordered for the nursery had been put on back order, and the Camaro had to be taken into the shop for tuning. Thing after thing occurred, piling onto an already stressful time. 

Nevertheless, the week came and went. And before either of them knew it, Saturday had rolled in. 

To say (Y/N) was nervous was an understatement. For some reason, anxiety was taking over her body. Its claws dug themselves deep into her being. It made her veins run cold and her heart speed. She didn’t know how any of them would react to the baby. Even to the fact that they had kept it from them for so long. And although Derek tried his best to calm her worries, they had already made a home inside her head. 

“God, what if they hate the fact that I’m pregnant?” (Y/N) worried as she laid out more food than necessary on the kitchen counter. “What if they find the idea of bringing a child into a messed up world to be the worst thing ever?” 

“Who cares, baby? It’s our child,” Derek tried to reassure. “We are the ones that will be raising them. The ones to protect them. Always and forever.

“But they say it takes a village, Der. And that is one thing that I know is true. I mean, at some point, we will need their help.”

“And you really think we won’t have it,” he said, rounding the kitchen island. His hands traveled her body and, in one swift move, had her sitting on the counter. At eye level, he could stare directly into her glossy eyes. “We have been through everything with these people. Even the ones I hated at the beginning have become my closest friends. I’m 100% sure they’ll be thrilled that you’re pregnant.”

He snaked his hand to her chin, pulling her down for a soft kiss. But once their lips made contact, it was too much of a temptation to keep it chaste. Soon enough, their tongues danced together, and their hands pulled each other closer. It left them breathless and excited, wanting —needing more. 

“Uh, we can come back if it’s a bad time,” Stiles’ voice rang through the apartment, startling them apart. “But you guys did invite us here. So, it’s kind of bad on you guys.” 

“No. Yes! I mean, it’s not a bad time,” (Y/N) chuckled as she jumped off the counter, hiding her stomach with a comically large bowl. “We just got carried away, I guess.”

“The one day they decide to show up on time,” Derek grumbled under his breath. “Come in, why don’t you?” 

Before they knew it, the apartment was filled with werewolves, a banshee, other werehumans and supernatural beings, and their very own abominable snowman. The couple remained in the kitchen as everyone situated themselves, whispering under their breath what the best way to go about it would be. 

“Not to be pushy,” Peter called out. “But if you guys only called us over for some food, I have better things to do than hang around children all day.”

“You do know we’re all well above the age of eighteen, right?” Isaac retorted. “It’s been quite some time since we have been children.” 

“You’re still younger than me, correct?” 

“Well, yeah…” 

“Then children,” he said. “So, what is it? Am I staying, or am I leaving?” 

“Settle down, Peter,” Derek responded, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. “We do have something important to announce to everyone and would very much appreciate it if you just listen.” 

“Fine,” he frowned. “But you have ten minutes of my time before I decide to leave.” 

“All we need is a couple of seconds, really,” (Y/N) said with a smile on her face so sweet no one dared say anything else. “I’m sure you heard that I was away for a while and that we were undergoing renovations here. Which, as you can tell by the lack of changes, was not true. Derek lied on my behalf and moved any necessary meetings out of our home because I needed this time to myself as I underwent a sort of change in my life.” 

“Oh my god, you’re dying,” Stiles worried. “Is it cancer? Is it at least treatable?” 

“It’s nothing like that, Stiles,” she reassured with a soft chuckle. “But thank you for worrying. It’s just as life-changing but not necessarily life-threatening. At least, I’m hoping it’s not. But you could never be sure until…” 

“(Y/N), you’re rambling,” Derek whispered in her ear. “It’s nothing bad.”

“You’re pregnant!” Lydia exclaimed, a bright smile adorning her face. 

“How would you know that?” Malia questioned. “I thought you predicted death, not new life.” 

“It’s common sense,” she shrugged, disregarding the comment. “She’s been hiding for months. The place smells like paint, and nothing in this room is painted, so I can only assume it’s a bedroom. And she hasn’t stepped out from behind the island that just so happens to cover her stomach. Two and two always makes four.” 

“Except on this occasion, it made three,” (Y/N) chuckled. She walked around the counter and joined Derek’s side, her bump finally on display for everyone to see. “But, yes, Lydia, I am pregnant. Almost five months now.” 

A shower of ‘holy crap’s and ‘oh my god’s rained over them as, one by one, the pack got to their feet and hugged the couple in congratulations. They rejoiced together and started planning how to spoil little baby Hale even before they were born. Every single person was as excited and overjoyed as Derek and (Y/N) were, anxious for when the baby was born. 

Well, except Peter. 

“Yeah, next time you have these kinds of news, little nephew, make sure to make it an email,” he grumbled, looking at his watch. “Can’t believe I canceled evening plans for a pregnancy announcement.” 

“We love you too, Peter,” (Y/N) laughed. “Maybe if you leave now, you can still make it to whatever it is that you had planned.” 

“I’m already here,” he shrugged as he sat back down on the sofa. “Might as well take advantage of the free food.” 

“Ignore him,” Derek told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “He can’t take this moment away from us. It’s all ours.” 

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[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call… (2)

summary: waking up groggy and confused in an unfamiliar house, you try to piece together the previous night's drunken events

warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes

a/n: this took an age, i’m sorry

word count: 3k

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

-

There’s something so categorically degrading about waking up with a hangover.

Even on a basic level, it’s a pure, unadulterated betrayal. Your body, the very vessel you trust to carry you through life itself, turns into a traitor. You can almost hear it whispering, “Oh, you thought dancing on tables and singing karaoke off-key was a good idea? Well, here’s a headache and nausea combo for your troubles”.

Waking up is a gradual ascent from the fiery depths of hell. Satan himself has seemed to take a liking to pounding on the inside of your skull. You’re hot, you ache, and why is it so damn bright in here? You reach out a weak, shaky arm for the lamp, desperately craving the solace of darkness, only to be met with no lamp at all and curtains so wide open that the morning light shines an accusatory beam bright enough to burn your retinas.

Life is so cruel.

You drop your hand and groan at the effort of having moved for no reason. And you contemplate burying your face back into the pillows, but you opt against it when you feel how dry your mouth is. Water. You need water. So with the grace of a rudely awakened sloth, you peel your eyes open.

Well then, it appears you’ve been involuntarily thrust into a theatrical production of ‘Regret: The Morning After’. The decor around you doesn’t match your last memory of home, and unless your furniture recently acquired a taste for avant-garde minimalism, you must admit you are, in fact, not in your own flat.

The bed feels suddenly unfamiliar, and the sheets are the kind of thread count that screams someone else’s good decisions. You’d normally appreciate waking up in luxury, but the pounding in your head and the revelation that you’ve become an uninvited guest dampens the joy somewhat.

A quick survey reveals a room that’s both meticulously organised and lacking the warm chaos of your own living quarters. As your faculties slowly return from their hangover-induced sabbatical, some important questions arise: Whose residence are you dishonouring, and where exactly did you misplace your own good judgment last night?

Hesitantly you sit up, the sheets cascading down exposing not your anticipated nakedness but a fully clad form. The dignity you deemed lost and laying dead in a gutter now resurrects itself, a phoenix from the ashes, offering unexpected relief and a silent cheer for your redemption.

You don’t even care that you can’t find your phone. The contents of it will probably make you want to call your therapist anyway, and who needs that? Not you, that's for sure. You need water, asap. Because if you don’t get it soon you honestly think this random room in this random house will be the last thing you’ll ever see.

So, on legs as shaky as those of a newborn giraffe, you stand from the bed and stumble towards the door that’s keeping you safe from the rest of the house.

Your plan? Find the nearest water source, some footwear, and the exit. Preferably in that order. It should be simple enough, unless you’ve somehow made it all the way to Timbuktu throughout the course of the night. In that case getting home may be more of a struggle than originally anticipated. But at least Mali has water.

Dehydration is making you lose your marbles.

You open the door and three things happen in very quick succession. The smell first. Bacon. Your stomach rumbles automatically and you briefly wonder when the last time you ate was. Second, the sound of running water. And in your mind that only means one thing. But your brain is currently running at the same rate as Internet Explorer and has trouble realising that water doesn’t just run on its own accord within a household.

Revelation number three you ask? Hang in there, it's a kicker.

-

“What is wrong with you?”

“What? No, nothing. Nothing's wrong”

“You know you’re like, a super bad liar?”

“And you know you’re like, super weird following me into the toilet?”

Kyra just rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at you. She’s just like that. Immature, like a little sister, but way more annoying.

“So you’re the only one who’s allowed to piss now then?”. It was your turn to roll your eyes, locking your phone and tucking it back away into your bra. “You didn’t answer my question”

“I did. I said nothing’s wrong”

Kyra huffs, crossing her arms defiantly. “Well, your face says you’re constipated or something. Seriously, what’s up with the permanent frown”

You sighed, realising trying to get out of this was going to be more effort than it’s worth. “It’s just… life stuff, you know. Relationship problems”

“I didn’t think you were in a relationship” Kyra questions with a frown of her own.

“Exactly. It’s complicated”

Leah gave you the green light to reach out again, and yet, you find yourself stuck in a loop of doubt. The ball is in your court, and you’re juggling excuses instead of taking the shot.

She catches your eyes in training sometimes and shoots you a look as if to say, “come on, make a move already”, yet all you can do is stand and stare at her like a deer in headlights.

“Sounds it” by Kyra’s tone you can tell she’s not convinced by your answer, but she enters a cubicle and thankfully leaves it at that. “I think we should do shots,” she says through the door.

You sigh, because that’s the single best thing you’ve heard her say all evening.

-

“Laura”

Your breath catches when you see her emerge from the bathroom. At least you’ve laid eyes on someone you recognise.

“Hey! Good morning!”

Oh god, she was so nice. She wasn’t even out last night. How on earth have you dragged her into your mess?

“Hi- I. Do you-“

She looks you up and down and chuckles a little at your disheveled state. You don’t feel exposed or uncomfortable under her gaze, but you do feel disjointed. Untethered.

“Nice shorts”

“I-“ you choke on your words again and she stares at you expectantly. “I’ll wash them”

Her expression changes instantly. Her small smile makes way for a downward turn of her lips and a furrow of her brow.

“I’m sorry?”

“The shorts” you blurt out. “I’ll wash them for you. God knows what I’ve done to them”. She raises her eyebrows at your words and you panic. “Not that I’ve done anything bad, like piss in your bed or anything. I’ll wash that too. Your sheets, if I’ve pissed I mean. But the bed was dry when-“

“Jeepers, you did drink a lot last night didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry”

You have no idea what you're apologising for. Everything perhaps. She’s not your mother, you don’t have to justify that you went out and had a good time.

“For what? It’s not my sheets you’ve ruined”

You blink at her in confusion. “You mean-. This isn’t your…”

“House? You think this is my place? Gosh, you must’ve drank the place dry”

Not for the first time this morning, you were completely lost. There were too many unanswered questions clunking around your throbbing head to even make sense of what was going on.

“Right, well I’m going to go. The bathroom is right there” she points dramatically at the room behind her, as if you couldn’t find your way five feet in front of you on your own. “I’d get yourself in front of a mirror before you head downstairs”

She gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze when she brushes past you. “Mirror, got it” you mumble as you shuffle towards the toilet with great effort.

Laura was spot on – a mirror was your morning lifeline before subjecting anyone else to the sight of you. You weren’t just rough around the edges; you were a walking exhibit on the brink of a hangover apocalypse. Death warmed up? More like the undead, straight out of a zombie flick.

Your hair. Well, it was doing its own thing. A rebellious, unruly dance that had nothing to do with your input. It screamed “I partied all night and regret nothing”

And your makeup? Let’s just say it was on a journey of crude self-discovery, smudging and migrating in stubborn ways around your eyes. Big, bold mascara smudges teaming up with the remnants of a night that involved more tossing and turning than beauty sleep.

“You’re a fucking mess” you tell your reflection. “Jesus Christ”

You run the tap, gather some water in your palms and sluse your face to try and salvage at least a smidge of self esteem. The water feels like heaven against your skin, and you almost cry when your tongue darts out to catch the drops running over your lips.

-

“We thought you fell in”. Katie says when the two of you find yourself back with the group. “We almost sent out a search party”

Without missing a beat, you shoot back, “We’re getting shots. They’ve got a deal on Sambuca”. A smirk plays on your lips when Caitlin’s eyes light up.

Katie folds her arms, giving you a look of disapproval. “No way. I don’t trust you. Not after last time”

Kyra, leaning against the side of the booth you’ve all acquired, chimes in, “come on. Y/N’s practically depressed. Shots are the only way she’ll stop moping into her phone”

“Yeah, Kyra’s right”. Sort of. “I need shots to cope with the existential crisis that is being caused by my tragic life”. You don't, but you need to play along if you’re going to get your way.

You want to get to that sweet spot of intoxication. Where everything feels like it’s in soft focus, and you’re floating through the night on a cloud of liquid courage. You've already had a cocktail, or three, so you’re certain a few doses of clear spirits will get you there.

Even in the dimmed light of the bar you could see Katie narrow her eyes. She was thinking about it. Weighing up the options. Last time you all did shots she, honestly you can’t quite remember what happened, but she turned up late to training with a bruise blooming over her left brow and limp.

“I’ll buy them! Please Katie, for me” you plead, pulling out your best puppy dog eyes.

You see her physically deflate when she comes to her decision. “Okay! Alright! But if I get another late fine, you’re paying it”

-

You followed the sound of music and the hiss of bacon hitting a hot pan. Unfamiliar territory, yet your feet led you to the kitchen, guided by a primal hunger for anything salty.

Confusion still lingered like a heavy fog in your hungover mind. Too many questions and not enough answers. Until you stepped into the morning glare of a sun beaming through patio doors, then a series of mental gears clicked steadily into place.

It started with the song. The one that floated through the house on the back of the crackle of bubbling fat. It’s one you’ve heard many times before. A pre match staple that you loathe due to it being horrifically overplayed by its lover. Country music was never a bandwagon you wanted to get on the back of.

Then the subtle recognition of the athletic back turned towards you. The way the muscles moved under the taut skin with each flip of food. A mental Rolodex of faces spun, landing on a particular blonde's distinctive silhouette.

“I can feel you staring”

Well, you were. It was hard no to when you're faced with a chiseled physique clad in only a sports bra and a pair of training shorts.

“Why am I here, Leah?” You croak out. Voice horse from its dryness despite the water you just guzzled from the bathroom tap.

“For breakfast, I presume. I made bacon”

You roll your eyes at the back of her head. She knows full well what you mean but she’s choosing to be aloof just because she could.

“Think about it” she says as she finally turns around.

And you would think, but your brain has short circuited.

Christ on a bike she’s hot. It’s nothing you hadn’t seen before, of course. Being teammates and sharing locker rooms and ice baths and physio slots. But that was a professional setting. The way your eyes lingered was for science. To improve yourself. A personal physical goal.

Abs

Biceps

Cleavage

Your eyes shoot to the ceiling in an attempt to be respectful.

“Why do you think you could be here, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard, you were torn. If she’s alluding to what you think she’s alluding to, then damn, you’re actually pretty annoyed at yourself for not remembering it.

Before you can say anything, she places a plate of steaming hot food on the kitchen island you're keeping yourself upright against. Maybe you were still a little drunk. Maybe your peanut brain was trying and failing to act composed around a pretty girl in her underwear.

“Eat up. Then I’ll drop you home”

-

Is it possible to miss your bed after just one night?

Yes. Yes it is.

Leaving the comfort of your own mattress, cozy blankets, and the reassuringly familiar creaks of your bed frame is a betrayal you wholeheartedly regret when you find yourself splayed against the duvet an hour or so later.

Suddenly, you’re grappling with the harsh reality that not all beds are created equal. No matter their feather count, there’s nothing like your own bed.

But you can’t help but let your mind wander to the one you woke up in. And whose house it was situated.

The car ride back felt charged. Lingering Stares at red lights and small touches when Leah changed gears, or grabbed something out of the glove box. Maybe she was just playing games. She didn’t actually say exclusively that you’d slept with each other. But why would she lie?

And why else would you be there?

Your mind was reeling, caught in the aftermath of a night that seemed to have shifted the dynamics of your relationship with Leah even further than before. But the ghost of something remained unanswered, and you don’t think you’ve got the energy to figure it out.

You’re about to resign yourself to ignoring the nagging feeling, ready to fall into a well deserved sleep when your phone finally flickers to life. It had been dead for god knows how long and charging it seemed like the responsible thing to do.

You regret it instantly when you reach for it and see the barrage of notifications and texts from your friends filling the screen.

-

Amidst the relentless beats and a dance floor resembling a disorganized chaos of limbs, your friends seemed to have vanished quicker than a magician’s assistant in a puff of smoke.

Fucking amateurs.

You supposed that's why your phone kept buzzing in its place within your bra. A customary ‘Lost in the crowd, where are you?’ Or ‘Wanted nuggets, get home safe’ text. Though unexpectedly, it was Leah’s name that illuminated the screen instead.

Brace yourself for a probable lecture about your irresponsible choice of extra curricular activities. Not everyone is as disciplined as you Williamson!

You unlocked your phone with liquor numb fingers, ready to clumsily type back a response about personal space. Yet what you laid your eyes upon was certainly not something you’d be writing a scathing review about.

To say you got an eyeful would be the understatement of the century. Not that you could complain, because you really couldn’t. Who would when a full frontal picture of an extremely hot woman in lingerie is gifted to them on a plate free of charge. Not you. Definitely not you.

You squinted at the screen, half-wondering if the club’s DJ had spiked your drink with a dash of hallucinogens. Especially when a written text follows.

‘My place?’

Oh, and a google maps pin to the address of her flat as well. How convenient.

Who would’ve guessed it? The England skipper herself, the picture of professionalism, delivering a bold invitation with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer through a window. Regardless, it had you weak in the damn knees.

As the relentless bass thumped around you, you found yourself pondering the options laid out before you like some bizarre choose-your-own-adventure. Should you head to Leah’s for a morning that could redefine interesting, or persist in your quest for the lost tribe of friends in the dark, clammy wilderness?

Fuck your friends, you wanted to get laid.

‘I’ll get an Uber, be there in 10’

Thank god for auto correct.

-

Your mouth goes dry and your stomach falls out of your ass.

It all starts to make sense now – the glances, the static atmosphere. You ditched your friends for a booty call, and the evidence is now uncomfortably displayed on your screen, a vivid reminder of the unexpected turn your night took.

Just as you’re contemplating each increasing level of chaos, a single fresh text lands itself serendipitously in your inbox.

One guess as to who it’s from.

You want to scream.

‘Afternoon slugger. If you’re reading this you’re probably having a panic attack whilst looking at my nipples. You’re welcome. I want to clear something up. Unfortunately for you, we didn’t sleep together. Necrophilia isn’t my thing. So, congrats on surviving the night with your dignity intact. Your move, baby. Impress me’

You stare at Leah’s message, your jaw threatening to set up a permanent residence on the floor.

She played you like a damn fiddle. She seized the opportunity to mess with your head while you were too fragile to navigate the situation yourself. A cunning move, you have to admit.

It sparked something in you. A realisation that not only did she reach out, but she thought about you enough to ask for a booty call. And she’s put the ball back in your court, probably out of impatience. The fire in your belly she left there the day in the gym gew even hotter.

You would play along. Maybe even bend the rules like she did.

There was nothing wrong with a little game of cat and mouse, after all.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request headcanons of the 7 brothers of obey me finding their s/o asleep in their bedroom, waiting for them?

Obey me Boys + who's that sleeping in my bed?

Lucifer

Lucifer sighed as he turned down the final hall of their home. Why did the House of Lamentation have to have so many hallways?

He had been in a very long meeting with Lord Diavolo. Discussing current events in the Devildom, the school, and of course the exchange program. His prince was always interested in how the selected were doing. And although Lucifer didn’t really care how the angels or Solomon were doing, he could report that [Y/N] was doing very well.

Reaching his room, he opened the door and shrugged off his cloak. Feeling a metaphorical weight come off, along with the real one, as it slumped to the floor.

He was on his way to change and take a shower when he noticed someone on his bed. It was [Y/N]. Of course it was. No one else would dare enter his room if he wasn’t there. They must have come in and waited to surprise him, but he had arrived too late.

A soft smile, a mix of heart warming and sad, came to his face as he looked at them. He then came over and pet their hair. “It’s good to see you too, my love. I’ll be right back.”

[Y/N] didn’t wake up as he spoke, but did move a little in some sort of unconscious acknowledgement. He then continued on with the task of showering and changing. Maybe he was working a little too hard afterall.

Mammon

“Ouch!” Mammon cursed as he bounced off one of the walls.

Another successful night of debauchery for the scummiest brother. Gambling, drinking, cruising hot demons at the club, more drinking. He’d finally reached his fill (or more to the point: puked) and decided to go home. Because despite what his credit card statements said he could not, in fact, live in the club.

He finally made it into his room. Immediately starting to strip out of his clothes. Leaving a trail from the door to his bed. He got down to his shorts just as he was about to swan dive in, when he noticed [Y/N] there. He was surprised, then trying to think of why they were there. His alcohol soaked brain tried to think of something, but the only thing he could think of was that they had waited for him.

Suddenly his stomach felt heavy; and not just from the impending nausea. [Y/N] had been waiting for him. For what, he didn’t know, and it really didn’t matter. They had waited for him. And he had been out drinking and gambling with a bunch of losers, who didn’t even care enough to hold up his head when he got sick.

Mammon suddenly felt like actually the scummiest brother, then turned to head towards the couch. Besides the fact that he stunk, which didn’t matter to him but might to [Y/N], he didn’t feel he deserved to sleep next to them and slept on the couch.

He woke up the next morning to [Y/N] petting his head and asking if he was alright. He then decided he wasn’t going to the club anymore. He didn’t need it.

Levi

“I got it! I got it! I got it! I got it!” Levi cheerfully chanted as he ran up the stairs and towards his room.

He had been at the midnight release of his new game, Paradox Spheres. A muti-level, muti-dimension, multi-timeline RPG game where the main character travels through rips in time & space to save the universe. He had to have it.

Levi had been camping out since lunch, like any good otaku, to get a good spot for the release. His hours of waiting, then hours of waiting in the queue up, finally paying off when he got one! Number 134 was always a lucky number for him.

“[Y/N]! I got it! I got it!” The demon exclaimed as he burst through the door. Holding his new game up like a trophy.

His enthusiasm, however, was not matched as he found [Y/N] asleep on his bed. The real one, not his bathtub.

Levi moved to check his watch and see how late it was. He’d gotten the game, but at what cost? [Y/N] was understandably out just waiting for him to come back. Not here to revel in the joy with him.

The demon sighed and placed his game on his dresser. He didn’t want to play it anymore. Without [Y/N] it wasn’t fun anymore.

He instead booted up one of his older games to play that. He wasn’t tired. Being a seasoned otaku, and running on game grab adrenaline, this time of night was nothing to him. He would just have to wait until [Y/N] woke up to start his new game.

Satan

The sound of pages turning filled the room as Satan furiously read page after page.

He had planned to go to bed a while ago, telling [Y/N] he would be there in a minute, but just after that he had reached a very interesting part in his book and couldn’t stop. Satan had to see how it ended otherwise he would be plague with regret and anxiety on what could happen all night.

Finally, he reached the end with a satisfying conclusion. Closed the book. Then leaned back with a contented sigh. If only for a moment.

“Shit.” He cursed as he realized how late it was and rushed to his room.

It was too late though. [Y/N] was already asleep. Clearly reading on their own to try and stay away before sleep took them. Satan felt bad. He had promised he would be up soon and broke it. Leaving them alone and waiting for him all evening.

Carefully coming over to the bed, Satan picked up their book and placed a crisp, new bookmark in their place before he moved them over a little and slide in beside them. “I’m sorry dearest.” He apologized before kissing their forehead. Surely they would understand it was a good book though.

Asmo

“Annnnd…done!” Asmo let out a little giggle as he finished his skin care regiment for the night and bounced off to bed. “Ok [Y/N]~! I’m ready to snuggle up and….” The demon’s cheerfulness waned when they saw that [Y/N] was a sleep on the bed. Looking like an angel he would know.

Asmo pouted seeing them asleep. He thought they would wait up for him, so they could gab and do…other stuff. His skin care regiment was only 21 steps. Surely they could wait up for him to be done with that!?

Being petty, Asmo walked over to the other side of the bed and flopped down. Intentionally being forceful and loud as possible with his tuck in process to hopefully wake them. They did not. He pouted again and rolled over to get some sleep. Good thing he used his advanced anti-wrinkle cream on his mouth & brow tonight.

Beelzebub

Beel hit his stopwatch as he came back to the front gate and gave a little cheer. A new personal best.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, or felt like he was going to be able to get to sleep, while he and [Y/N] were getting ready for bed. So, he decided to go for a run. [Y/N] told him that was ok, and they would wait up for him, but he told them it was ok if they didn’t.

Making his way upstairs, two at a time, Beel came into the room quietly and sure enough, [Y/N] was asleep. He didn’t feel bad that they hadn’t stayed up. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to run for, when he would be back, and he knew that they had been sleepy when he left. It was his problem he couldn’t sleep, not theirs.

Beel came over and kissed the top of their head before he went to get some new pajamas to change into. He was obviously sweaty now, so he needed a shower.

When he got back he curled up with [Y/N] and immediately went to sleep. Finally tired, and contented to be with [Y/N].

Belphie

He’d woken up from one of his naps in the middle of studying to find [Y/N], still working, before he got up and announced, “I need some water.” His mouth was very dry.

Belphie heard their response, which sounded tired if he was paying attention, before he went downstairs to get said water. By the time he came back, all the way up in the attic, [Y/N] had fallen asleep. Their pen still in their hand.

The demon paused and observed the situation for a moment. This was an odd experience for him. Usually, people walked in on him asleep. Not the other way around.

Belphie smiled at being on the other side for once and crawled into bed. “[Y/N], move over.” He urged. Gently pushing them to make space, but also put them in the position he wanted to lay down. He then curled up with [Y/N], smelling their hair, and immediately fell asleep like usual. This was a very nice surprise.

[graymanshoots]

I love you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gn Reader

Tags: Reference to sex, angst no comfort, friends with benefits, no gender & appearance specifics, ghost not wanting to acknowledge that he actually has feelings and hurting reader

Part: 2-3

A/n: I couldn’t wait for the poll to end but I was going to post it regardless if I’m being honest 🙃

Lying in bed, you revel in the sweaty exhaustion you worked yourself into.

At your side your long time friend Simon laid eyes drawn to the popcorn ceiling of your bedroom that you both hated so much. His face was partially illuminated by your dim bedside lamp, dirty blonde hair visible and matted to his forehead with sweat.

You stare at Simon, admiring his features that seem all the more beautiful with the dazed expression he holds.

His nose is crooked from being broken more than once, his lips pink and pouty—something you teased him about on multiple occasions, comparing him to Princess Peach sometimes. Jagged scars cut across his face, which you find more endearing than distasteful.

You've known Simon since he joined the forces, and it's common for him to seek out your bed for comfort, shedding the heavy weight the military pushes on his shoulders. No matter how many times you two remind yourselves that it's just sex, you can't help but want him for more.

You couldn't help it when he helped you move into your new apartment, or when he comforted you after a tough mission, or when he kissed you during New Year's, spending the rest of the night in his arms. Simon is anything but just sex to you. He's your friend, a close one, and he's your lover, though he’d never acknowledge or say that for himself.

He treats you with the same yearning and longing that you feel inside with soft touches and promises that you know he never means.

He’d never burden you with the ghost of himself; Simon is the only name that he lets you call him.

Your hazy thoughts are whisked away when you feel an arm wrap around your waist, Simon pulling you to his chest, his pretty brown eyes staring down at you.

Locking eyes with him, you instinctively bring your hand up, resting it on the marred skin of his cheek, your thumb running over the rough scar tissue.

Your lips part like you want to say something, but your words die on your tongue when Simon initiates a kiss with you. His chapped lips press against yours gently, and his fingers press so deeply into your skin you feel as if he will melt into you.

You both hate and understand how you could fall so deeply for this man.

Is this what it feels like to have your heart bound so closely with another that they beat in sync? So deep in an ocean of a man who has but a stick to float on himself. A man whose back is burdened with the sins of his own and the many who followed. A man who would never acknowledge the heaviness in his chest when you were apart.

“What's on your mind, love?” He asks, pulling away, his hand coming up to smooch out the wrinkle between your brow before moving back down to your waist.

So many answers could have left your mouth that weren't the ones that did, and Simon would have stayed there and kissed your forehead before falling asleep in your arms.

But that's not what happened, and fear that it'd never have the chance to happen bubbled in your stomach when you saw Simon's eyes widen.

“I love you.”

Simon's face twisted into an unrecognizable expression as he sat up from the bed, letting your hand fall from him. His arm moved from around your waist quickly, as if it burned to touch you. He sat on the edge of the bed wordlessly with his back to you, reaching to the bedside table, grabbing his mask, slipping it on swiftly.

You hadn’t meant to say that. The thoughts you locked so closely to yourself bled out in your blissful stupor. Nausea simmers in your stomach as your chest begins to ache with waves of rejection.

Ghost stood from the bed, tension visible in the muscles of his naked body. He wasted no time dressing himself, not even bothering to look at you. You couldn't find anything to say to him, having no explanation for your words, no excuse that you were just in the heat of the moment, the sex long over.

What could you say to him?

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as the door to your bedroom shut, and soon the sound of your apartment door followed.

Was this your fault, or was it his for giving you an ocean when you’d originally been in a lake?

Was this your fault, or was this his fault for molding his fingerprints into the clay of your skin?

Was this your fault or was this his for filling you with a false sense of security when he told you that he’d be safe.

A week fades and you haven't heard anything from Ghost, he made himself scarce on base and couldn't even stand to be in the same room as you.

You didn't blame him; this was your fault. The line that you two had continued to blur more and more over the years had finally been crossed.

Fighting Ghost's choice to abandon him would only make the rift wider, so you had no choice but to accept it.

These are the consequences of loving a man who carried a mock heart in his chest.

______

Feel free to comment and reblog! Requests are welcome 🙏

Tag list:

@skulfan1 @thychuvaluswife (idk if you get the notif I don’t think you have tags on)

[blastbeatdbeat]

Vomitory - Revelation Nausea

[bradshawsvinyl]

Change

Your relationship with Jake has always been casual. A revelation will soon change both of your lives forever.

authors note: I hope u like this one. Sorry for not posting for two weeks…school has been kicking my ass.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

You could do this.

That was the first thing you thought to yourself while holding a positive pregnancy test in the small bathroom of the Hard Deck. The second thing you thought to yourself was you had to do this. Alone.

Your recent bouts of fatigue and nausea all started to make sense. Your best friend, Bradley, had offered the suggestion that you might be pregnant and while you didn’t want that to be the case, once he said it, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

A small knock on the door drew you out of your thoughts. You quickly opened the door and saw Bradley.

“What does it say?” He asked, trying to remain calm.

You couldn’t find the words. Instead, your shaking fingers placed the pregnancy test into Bradley’s hand. You couldn’t even look at him.

“Oh my God.” Bradley whispered. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I can’t.” You said, starting to sob.

Jake and you had been hooking up for a few months now. But that’s all it ever was. That’s all Jake would allow your relationship to be. You thought you loved him, but you knew Jake didn’t have the capacity to love you back.

“I’m here. You know that right?” Bradley told you while rubbing your back. “You aren’t going to be alone.”

“What am I going to do?” You cried back in response.

“You have to tell him.” Bradley whispered. “He deserves to know.”

As you continued to cry, you knew Bradley was right. You couldn’t make a decision about the baby in your body without consulting Jake.

The weight of the positive pregnancy test felt heavy in your hands as you stood outside of Jake’s small apartment. In an effort to calm your nerves, you took a deep breath before quickly knocking on his door.

The door swung open to reveal a surprised Jake. “Hey. What’s up?” He asked, clearly confused.

You took a deep breath again before replying. “Can I come in?” You asked. “We need to talk now.”

Jake’s brow furrowed in concern as he stepped aside to let you in. You entered his apartment. The familiar surroundings felt so foreign. “Is everything ok?” He asked, voice laced with worry.

“What’s going on?” He asked again when you failed to answer. “You can talk to me, you know that right?”

You turned to face him, heart pounding and palms shaking. “I…I’m pregnant Jake.” You whispered.

His eyes widened. He seemed like he was at a loss for words. “Pregnant? Are you sure?”

Instead of verbally answering, you handed him the pregnancy test so that he could see for himself. After taking the test from your hands, he sat down on his couch and simply stared at you.

“I took the test yesterday.” You said in an effort to offer an explanation.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. I…I’m sorry I just don’t know what to say.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as you waited for Jake to speak again.

“What do you want to do?” He asked after a few minutes.

His question caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to react like this. You thought he would be angry. You thought he would demand you leave his apartment or suggest you get an abortion. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you calmly. You really hadn’t expected him to talk to you at all.

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “What would you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I really don’t know.”

[lila-lou]

✨Paris - Pt. 3✨

Summary: The season 5 premiere of The Boys in Paris, which you were so excited about, became a dreaded event when you found out your difficult co-star Jensen Ackles would be there. Despite your best efforts to avoid him, Jensen's presence was present even at the post-premiere celebration. A few drinks too many led to a troubled night in your hotel room that left you torn and doubtful about your feelings.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut(slightly), language, cheating, fluff

Word Count: 6581

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The weeks passed, and no matter how hard you tried to push him out of your mind, Jensen’s presence lingered like a shadow. The guilt of what had transpired between you two gnawed at your conscience relentlessly. You hadn’t told Antony the truth about what happened with Jensen, but the weight of your secret made it impossible to look him in the eyes.

A week before filming was set to begin again, you finally broke up with Antony. The guilt and self-loathing had become unbearable, and every moment with him felt like a lie you couldn’t continue living. The look of hurt and confusion in his eyes as you ended things haunted you, adding another layer of regret to your already heavy heart.

You hated yourself for it. Every time you thought of Antony, you felt a wave of nausea and self-disgust. But amidst the turmoil, you couldn’t deny the growing realization that you were falling in love with Jensen. It was a painful and unwelcome truth, made even more complicated by your decision to distance yourself from him.

As the first day of filming approached, you tried to steel yourself for the inevitable encounter. You knew you’d have to see Jensen, work with him, and maintain a professional facade despite the emotions swirling inside you.

The day finally arrived, and you walked onto the set with a sense of dread. The familiar surroundings did little to calm your nerves as you prepared for the day’s scenes.

As you sat down in your chair, preparing for the day’s scenes, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The first scene was with both Antony and Jensen, and the tension was palpable. You felt another wave of nausea hit you, your stomach churning with guilt and anxiety.

Without a word, both Antony and Jensen sat down on either side of you. The atmosphere was thick with unresolved emotions, and you could feel their eyes on you, each for different reasons. Just then, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You bolted from your chair and stormed to the nearest toilet, barely making it before you started vomiting.

Back on set, Jensen watched you run off, his heart clenching painfully at the sight of your distress. But he masked his concern perfectly, maintaining his usual indifferent facade. “What’s up with her?”, he asked, playing dumb.

Antony, who had been trying to hold back his emotions, bit his tongue. His hurt had turned into a toxic mix of disappointment and anger over the past few days. “Don’t know, don’t care”, he grumbled, his voice tight. “She dumped me”.

Jensen was more than surprised by that revelation. In the back of his mind, he saw a tiny, tiny chance to maybe finally shoot his shot with you. Ever since that night, something had shifted in him. Initially, when you first met, he didn’t like you. He hated your easygoing nature and how everyone seemed to like you without you even trying. But what he hated most was that you didn’t give him the attention he was used to receiving from most other women.

As the scene was being prepared, Jensen’s thoughts kept drifting back to you. He couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope mixed with his guilt. Maybe now, with Antony out of the picture, he could finally explore the feelings that had been gnawing at him since that night in Paris.

“I’m sorry, man”, Jensen mumbled, glancing sideways at Antony.

Antony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Just then, you returned to the set, your face pale and your movements stiff. You avoided looking at either of them, focusing instead on the script in your hand. The weight of their gazes was almost unbearable, but you steeled yourself, determined to get through the day.

The director called everyone to their places, and you took a deep breath, trying to push your personal turmoil aside. The scene was intense, with high emotions that you drew from your own pain and guilt. Antony’s anger was raw and palpable, adding an extra layer of realism to his performance. Jensen, too, channeled his mixed feelings into his role, creating a powerful and authentic dynamic on screen.

Between takes, you kept to yourself, finding a quiet corner to regroup. You felt Jensen’s presence nearby, but he didn’t approach you.

As it was lunchtime, you quickly made your way towards your trailer, hoping to find some solitude. But just as you reached the door, Jensen appeared behind you, gripping your wrist gently.

You snapped your wrist out of his grasp, your voice sharp. “Don’t touch me”.

Jensen quickly held up both hands in surrender, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry”, he said, his voice calm. “I just wanted to talk”.

You felt a mix of anger and exhaustion wash over you. “What do you want?”, you choked out, struggling to keep your emotions in check.

Jensen took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I heard you broke up with Antony. Is it true?”.

You looked away, the weight of his question making your chest tighten. “Yes”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t keep pretending. I hated myself for it”.

Jensen nodded slowly, processing your words. His expression was a mixture of concern and understanding, but you felt a surge of frustration bubble up inside you. You glared at him, your voice snapping with bitter sarcasm. “Go ahead, Jensen. Make all the fun you want about me. I know you must be loving this”.

He shook his head, his eyes softening as he took a step back, giving you more space. “That’s not what I want, Y/N”, he said quietly. “I never wanted to hurt you or make fun of you. I’m just trying to understand”.

Your anger flared again, a defensive shield against the vulnerability you felt. “Understand what? That I’m a terrible person? That I couldn’t even be honest with Antony until it was too late? You were right about me all along, Jensen. I’m a fucking mess”.

Jensen’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening to respond, but before he could get a word out, you stepped inside your trailer and slammed the door shut in his face. The loud bang echoed in the small space, and you leaned against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You could hear Jensen’s muffled voice through the door, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to escape the whirlwind of emotions that had been building inside you for weeks.

Inside the trailer, the silence was overwhelming. You sank to the floor, pressing your back against the door, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you. Tears streamed down your face, and you buried your head in your hands, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body.

For a few moments, you let yourself cry, allowing the pain and guilt to pour out. It felt like an eternity, but eventually, the tears slowed, and you were left with a dull, aching emptiness.

You stood up, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, and took a deep breath. You knew you couldn’t avoid Jensen forever, and you couldn’t keep running from your feelings. But for now, you needed space, and you needed time to figure out what to do next.

The rest of the lunch break passed in a haze. You didn’t eat, your appetite completely gone. Instead, you spent the time trying to regain some semblance of composure, knowing you still had to get through the rest of the day on set.

When you finally emerged from your trailer, Jensen was gone. You felt a mix of relief and disappointment, but you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

The afternoon’s filming was grueling, the emotional scenes taking their toll on you. Antony was distant and professional, his hurt and anger clear but controlled. Jensen was careful, his interactions with you restrained, but his concern was still evident in his eyes.

By the time the director called it a wrap for the day, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. You gathered your things quickly, eager to escape the set and find some solitude.

As you walked to your car, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Jensen, standing a few feet away, his expression a mixture of worry and determination.

“Y/N”, he called out softly, taking a hesitant step forward. “Can we please talk?”.

You whipped around, your frustration and exhaustion boiling over. “Don’t you get it, Jensen? I don’t want to talk!”, you yelled, your voice echoing in the parking lot. “Ever since you came into my fucking life, it’s been a mess!”.

Jensen flinched at your words, but he didn’t back down. “I know things have been complicated”, he began, trying to keep his voice calm, “but running away from this isn’t going to help either of us”.

“Complicated?”, you scoffed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “That’s an understatement! You’ve turned everything upside down. I can’t even think straight anymore!”.

Jensen took another step closer, his eyes pleading. “Y/N, I never meant for things to get this bad. But I can’t just stand by and watch you suffer. I care about you”.

“Stop saying that!”, you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes again. “Stop pretending like you care! Maybe for you, fucking me was all fun with your nice little arrangement with your wife, but for me, it screwed up everything! It destroyed my relationship with Antony. And all those twisted signals you gave me—first hating me, then sleeping with me, and now pretending to care—what kind of fucked-up game are you playing?”.

Jensen looked taken aback, his face pale. He took another step closer. “It’s not a game, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I never meant to hurt you like this. My marriage… it’s complicated. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. And I’m not playing with you. I’m trying to be honest about how I feel”.

You shook your head, your anger flaring again. “Honest? You call this honest? You didn’t care about the consequences. You didn’t care about what would happen to me, to Antony, to anyone. Is your life so boring that you need to mess with other people’s lives now?”.

Jensen’s face hardened, a flash of anger crossing his features. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but don’t you dare say I don’t care. You have no idea what’s been going on in my head!".

His voice rose, the frustration and pain clear in his words. “You turned my fucking head, Y/N. Ever since that night in Paris, I can’t get you out of my mind. It’s like you’re in my head 24/7, and it’s driving me crazy. I tried to hate you because it was easier than admitting how I really felt, but I can’t do it anymore”.

Before you could respond, you heard footsteps approaching. Antony had been on his way to his car, but he stopped short when he heard Jensen’s outburst. His face was a mask of shock and hurt, the realization of what had happened between you and Jensen clear in his eyes.

“Did you and Jensen…?”, Antony asked, his voice tight with emotion.

You turned to face him, your heart sinking. “Antony, I…”.

He shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. “I thought you broke up with me because you needed time to figure things out. I never imagined it was because of him”.

Jensen stepped forward, his own anger giving way to regret. “Antony, I’m sorry. None of this was supposed to happen. It was just a stupid mistake”.

Antony looked between the two of you, his jaw clenched. “A mistake? Is that what you call it?”.

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt tears welling up again. “Antony, I never meant to hurt you. I was confused, and I didn’t handle things the way I should have”.

“I trusted you, Y/N. I thought we had something real… And you”, he turned to Jensen, his voice filled with anger, “I thought you were my fucking friend”.

Jensen bowed his head, his guilt evident. “I’m sorry, man. I messed up”.

Antony took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I can’t fucking deal with this right now”.

He turned and walked away, leaving you and Jensen standing there in the silence of the parking lot. You felt a crushing sense of loss and guilt.

Jensen turned towards you, his mouth opening to say something, but you just shook your head, tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t bear to hear any more. You quickly got into your car, slamming the door shut and driving away, leaving Jensen standing alone in the parking lot.

The drive home was a blur, your mind replaying the confrontation over and over. Once you reached your apartment, you barely managed to make it to your bed before collapsing into a heap of tears and self-loathing. The guilt and shame of your actions pressed down on you like a heavy weight, making it hard to breathe.

You spent the rest of the evening curled up in bed, hating yourself for what you did to Antony. But no matter how much you tried to focus on your regret, Jensen’s words kept echoing in your mind. “You turned my fucking head, Y/N… Ever since that night in Paris, I can’t get you out of my mind… I’m trying to be honest about how I feel”.

What did he mean by that? What were his true feelings? You couldn’t stop thinking about the intensity in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice. Was it possible that he genuinely cared about you? Or was he just trying to assuage his own guilt?

As the hours ticked by, you found it impossible to sleep. Jensen’s confession had thrown everything into disarray. Despite the pain and confusion, a part of you couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him. But those feelings were tangled up with anger, betrayal, and a deep sense of confusion.

You thought about how everything had started: the initial animosity, the unexpected night in Paris, the mixed signals and growing tension. It all seemed so surreal now. You had tried to hate him, to push him out of your mind, but it was clear that he had gotten under your skin in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

The next day, when you arrived on set, you looked like shit. Your eyes were puffy and red from a night of restless tossing and turning, and your skin was pale and drawn. The exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, making every step feel like a monumental effort.

As soon as you stepped onto the set, Kripke, noticed your disheveled appearance. “Hey, Y/N, are you okay?”, he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

You forced a weak smile, trying to brush off his worry. “Just didn’t sleep well”, you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Kripke frowned but nodded, respecting your privacy. “Alright, but if you need anything, let me know”.

You nodded and made your way to the makeup trailer, hoping to find a moment of solitude. Ironically, the first thing you saw upon entering was Jensen, sitting in one of the chairs, his stylist already working on him.

He glanced up as you walked in, his expression immediately softening with concern. “Y/N…”, he started, but you quickly looked away, not ready for another confrontation.

You took a seat in the chair next to his, trying to focus on the makeup artist who began working on your tired features. The silence between you and Jensen was thick with unspoken words, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you kept your gaze firmly on your reflection in the mirror.

The makeup artist worked diligently, trying to mask the evidence of your sleepless night. You were grateful for the silence, but the tension was palpable. Finally, Jensen spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “Did you get any rest at all?”.

You sighed, your eyes flicking to his reflection in the mirror. “Not really”, you admitted, your voice flat.

Jensen’s stylist finished up, and he stood, his eyes never leaving you. “Y/N, we need to talk. We can’t keep avoiding this”.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Not here, Jensen. Not now”.

He nodded, respecting your wishes but not backing down. “Alright. But soon”.

You gave a slight nod, turning your attention back to the makeup artist. As Jensen left the trailer, you felt a pang of something—regret, guilt, maybe even longing. The confusion of your feelings was overwhelming, and you knew you couldn’t continue like this.

The day’s filming was a blur, your exhaustion making it hard to concentrate. Antony was professional but distant, his interactions with you cold and detached. You could feel the weight of his disappointment, and it only added to your guilt.

During a break, you found a quiet corner on set and sat down, burying your face in your hands. The tears you had been holding back all day finally spilled over, and you let yourself cry, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

A few moments later, you felt a presence beside you. You looked up to see Jensen, his expression one of deep concern. Without a word, he sat down next to you, offering silent support.

A few moments later, you felt a presence beside you. You looked up to see Jensen, his expression one of deep concern. Without a word, he sat down next to you, offering silent support.

After a while, he spoke up, his voice gentle. “Do you love him?”.

You took a while to respond, continuing to sob quietly as you tried to sort through your tangled emotions. Finally, you shook your head, whispering, “I thought I did… he’s so kind and caring. And… I don’t know… maybe I had wished I would love him—I… I just don’t know anymore”.

Jensen reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be confused, Y/N. Feelings aren’t always straightforward”.

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “But it’s not fair to him. I hurt him so much, and he didn’t deserve any of it. And you… I don’t even know what to think about you".

Jensen chuckled bitterly, running his palm over his face. “Yeah, I know this feeling”, he mumbled, the weight of his own emotions evident in his voice. He looked at you, his gaze intense and filled with a depth that made your heart ache. It was clear he felt the same about you, the unspoken connection between you both palpable.

“I’ve been trying to sort through my feelings too”, he admitted, his voice softer now. “It’s been a mess, and I know I’ve made things harder for you. But- I ldon´t hate you. I-".

You met his gaze, your heart pounding. “Jensen, I don’t know if I can handle this. Everything is so complicated. I don’t even know where to start”.

He nodded, his expression earnest. “I get it. And I’m not asking for you to make any decisions right now. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. We can take things one step at a time, figure it out together”.

The sincerity in his voice gave you a glimmer of hope, but the fear and confusion still lingered. “I appreciate that, Jensen. But I need time to process everything, to figure out what I really want”.

“I understand”, he said, his hand still gently resting on your shoulder. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk”.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension.

As you sat there together, the silence between you was no longer filled with tension but with a tentative understanding. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

Two weeks passed, and true to his word, Jensen gave you the space you had asked for. You spoke only when necessary for your job, maintaining a professional distance. The tension between you still existed, but it was bearable, and you appreciated his respect for your boundaries.

Today was different, though. Today was the first spicy scene between your character and Jensen’s. It was a significant moment in the show, and a few of your colleagues had gathered to witness it, adding to your nerves. The weight of the scene and the unresolved emotions between you and Jensen made the situation even more daunting.

As you sat in your trailer, trying to steady your breathing and mentally prepare for the scene, there was a knock at the door. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing instinctively who it was. You took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jensen standing there, his expression serious but kind.

“Hey”, he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and determination. “I just wanted to check on you before we start. I know this isn’t easy for you”.

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands.

“I’m really nervous", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his expression gentle and reassuring. “I get that. It’s a vulnerable position to be in".

You looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze. “It’s just… with everything that’s happened, it feels even more complicated”.

Jensen nodded, understanding. “I know. But we’re professionals, and we can separate our personal feelings from the work we need to do. You’re an amazing actress, Y/N, and I trust you completely. Trust me too, okay?”.

You took a deep breath, feeling slightly more at ease. “Okay. Thanks, Jensen”.

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Hey, if it helps, just remember that I’ve seen you in way more intimate positions and a lot more of your body”, he joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, I guess you have a point”.

Jensen’s smile widened, the teasing glint in his eyes reassuring. “We’ve got this. Let’s go out there and do what we do best”.

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, and together, you headed to the set.

As you walked, the gravity of the upcoming scene weighed on you. This was an intimate moment that would require vulnerability and trust—both in your acting partner and in yourself. The set was bustling with activity, crew members adjusting lights and cameras, the director giving last-minute instructions. You could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you focused on Jensen’s presence beside you, grounding you.

Once you reached your mark, the assistant director called for quiet on set. The chatter ceased, and an expectant hush fell over the room. You slipped off your coat, handing it to a wardrobe assistant, and stood in your designated spot. You were almost completely exposed, with only the small patch covering your intimate area. The cool air brushed against your skin, and you shivered slightly, both from the temperature and the anticipation.

Jensen took his place opposite you, his eyes locking onto yours. The intensity in his gaze was palpable. The director stepped forward, giving you both a few final notes on the scene’s emotional beats and physical choreography. You nodded, absorbing his words, and took another deep breath.

“Alright, everyone. Positions!”, the director called out, his voice echoing through the set. The clapperboard snapped shut, signaling the start of the scene. “And… action!”.

You felt the shift immediately as you slipped into character. The world around you faded, leaving just you and Jensen in a bubble of shared emotion. The script had called for a charged moment of intimacy, where your characters finally gave in to their long-simmering attraction. It was a pivotal scene, and you needed to convey every nuance of longing, vulnerability, and desire.

Jensen’s character, Soldier Boy, stepped closer. His hands found your shoulders, his grip firm but not painful, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You looked up at him, your character’s defiance mixed with vulnerability. “I needed you”.

The line hung in the air, the weight of it settling between you. Soldier Boy’s expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost tender crossing his face before he tightened his grip, pulling you closer.

“Need me?”, he repeated, his voice a rough whisper. “You don’t even know what you’re fucking asking for”.

With a swift movement, he pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours. The heat of him was overwhelming, and you could feel the hard lines of his muscles against your bare skin. His hands roamed your sides, exploring the curve of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency.

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Show me”, you challenged, your voice breathless but resolute. “Show me what I’ve been missing”.

Soldier Boy’s eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You asked for it”, he growled before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was fierce and demanding, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrored the desperation of your characters. His hands slid up your sides, fingers tracing the outline of your ribs before he cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

The sensation was electric, your body arching into his touch as a moan escaped your lips. The script had called for a heated moment, and the intensity of Jensen’s touch made it easy to lose yourself in the scene. You responded with equal fervor, your hands sliding under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his chest and the warmth of his skin.

Soldier Boy broke the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. “You think you can handle this?”, he murmured, his voice a mix of mockery and desire. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, the patch between your legs doing little to shield you from the heat and hardness of him. “I can handle more than you think”, you whispered back, your voice filled with both challenge and invitation.

He growled in response, his hands gripped your hips, pulling you tighter against him, the friction between you driving you both to the brink.

The dialogue continued, raw and intense, each line delivered with a mix of passion and desperation that made the scene feel achingly real. “I’ve wanted this for so long”, you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me”.

Soldier Boy’s eyes met yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea”, he replied, his voice rough and ragged. “And I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name”.

Soldier Boy pulled down his pants, revealing the protective sock Jensen wore to maintain some modesty. The intention behind the scene was to be intense, and the physicality between you needed to reflect that raw, primal energy. Jensen’s erection was a surprise, a real-world complication in an otherwise carefully choreographed moment.

As he, pressed closer, his hands gripping your hips with a fierce possessiveness. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and the scripted intensity began to blur with reality.

“You’re going to beg for me”, Soldier Boy growled, his voice a rough whisper. He adjusted his position, his hands guiding you to the exact angle needed. With a swift, practiced movement, he simulated thrusting into you, the action almost too real in its intensity. The protective patches between you both did little to dampen the force of the movement, and the friction sent a shockwave of sensation through your body.

Your legs tightened around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on. The raw energy of the scene was electrifying, each motion building the tension to a fever pitch. You gasped, letting out a moan that was both part of the character and an involuntary response to the real heat between you.

“Fuck, Soldier Boy”, you whispered, the line delivered with a mix of challenge and submission. The intensity in Jensen’s eyes never wavered, and he pushed the scene further, his movements precise and powerful.

The scripted lines continued, blending with the real emotions simmering beneath the surface. “You like that?”, Soldier Boy taunted, his breath hot against your neck. His hips thrust again, the action deliberate and commanding.

“Yes”, you moaned, your voice breathless and filled with a mix of defiance and desire.

The choreography called for a series of movements that simulated a relentless pace, each thrust driving the characters closer to their breaking points. The physicality was demanding, and you felt your body responding to the rhythm, the heat between you almost overwhelming.

Jensen’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he maintained the intensity. “You’re mine”, Soldier Boy growled, his voice low and possessive. The line was delivered with such conviction that it sent a shiver down your spine.

The scene continued, each movement choreographed to build the tension to a climax. The raw passion between your characters was palpable, the line between acting and reality blurring more and more in the heat of the moment. When the director finally called cut, the set erupted in applause, the crew impressed with the intensity and authenticity of the performance.

Jensen pulled back, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his eyes still dark with the lingering intensity of the scene. You felt the same, your body trembling from the physical and emotional exertion.

“Are you okay?”, Jensen asked, his voice gentle as he helped you regain your footing.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah, I’m okay. That was… intense”.

Jensen handed you your robe, quickly pulling it over you while doing the same with his own robe, trying his best to hide his erection. Just then, Kripke approached, followed by Karl.

“That was phenomenal, both of you”, Kripke praised, clapping his hands. “Exactly the kind of raw energy we needed”.

Karl chuckled, giving you both a nod of approval. “You two really brought it”.

Kripke turned towards Jensen, a playful glint in his eye. “Man, if I’d known you could rock those scenes like that, Dean would have laid so many more women”, he joked, referring to Jensen’s character on Supernatural.

Jensen laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, Dean didn’t exactly have the best luck with the ladies”.

Kripke continued to praise your performance. “Seriously, though, the chemistry was off the charts. This scene is going to be a standout moment in the season”.

You felt a mixture of pride and relief, the tension of the scene finally easing. Jensen gave you a warm smile, his eyes conveying a silent thank you for trusting him in such a vulnerable moment.

Karl clapped Jensen on the back, a broad grin on his face. “Better not let Danneel see this scene, mate”, he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jensen chuckled uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair again. “Yeah”, he replied, his tone light but with an edge of nervousness.

With that, the crew reset for the next angles. The following takes were more focused on specific details and reactions, allowing the intensity of the earlier scene to ease somewhat. The physical closeness was still required, but the emotional weight was lessened by the familiarity of repeating the same actions.

You and Jensen moved through the choreography with practiced precision, the initial nerves replaced by a professional rhythm. The pieces being filmed now were less intense, focusing on close-ups and specific shots that would be edited together later.

As you worked, you could feel the lingering effects of the earlier scene—the adrenaline, the heightened emotions—but there was also a sense of accomplishment. Despite everything, you had managed to deliver a powerful performance.

Between takes, you and Jensen exchanged occasional glances, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experience. There was still so much unresolved between you, but for now, you had found a way to work together, to channel your complex emotions into something meaningful for the show.

As the two of you finally wrapped up the shoot, you finished a brief conversation with the sound crew. You felt a sense of relief that the day’s intense filming was over, though the unresolved tension between you and Jensen still lingered in the back of your mind.

As you turned to head back to your trailer, you saw Jensen approaching, his expression serious yet kind.

“Hey”, he began, his voice gentle but firm. “Can we talk for a minute?”.

You hesitated, but you nodded, knowing that avoiding the conversation would only prolong the inevitable.

“Sure”, you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Shoot”.

Jensen glanced around, noticing the few lingering crew members. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private”, he suggested.

You agreed, and the two of you walked towards Jensens trailer.

As you stepped into Jensen’s trailer, the atmosphere felt surprisingly intimate, a stark contrast to the bustling set outside. You took a seat on the couch, feeling the tension in the air. Jensen sat down opposite you.

For a moment, there was a heavy silence, both of you unsure where to begin. Finally, Jensen took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“Have you thought about everything?”, he asked, his voice soft but filled with the weight of the question.

You looked down at your hands, which were nervously twisting in your lap. “Yeah”, you replied quietly. “I’ve thought about it a lot”.

Jensen leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “And? What have you decided?”.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. “It’s still complicated, Jensen. I can’t just turn off my feelings, but I also can’t ignore what happened. I hurt Antony, and I’ve been hurting myself by not dealing with everything”.

He nodded, understanding. “I know, and I’m sorry for my part in all of this. I didn’t handle things the way I should have, and I regret that”.

You appreciated his honesty, but the confusion in your heart remained. “It’s not just about regrets. It’s about figuring out what we want moving forward. Can we really work together without letting our personal lives interfere? And if we do have feelings for each other, what does that mean for us?”.

Jensen leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve asked myself those same questions. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that I care about you. And I want to find a way to make this work, both professionally and personally”.

He paused, his expression becoming more serious. “I need to tell you something, though. I actually filed for divorce a few weeks ago… Maybe that helps with your decision”.

You looked at him, surprised by the revelation. “But not because of what happened between us, right?”, you asked carefully, needing to understand the full context.

Jensen shook his head. “No, it’s not because of that. Things between Danneel and me have been strained for a long time. We’ve been trying to make it work for years, but it became clear that staying together wasn’t the best for either of us. What happened between us, it just made me realize that I couldn’t keep living a lie. I needed to be honest with myself and with her”.

You absorbed his words, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Jensen. Divorce is never easy”.

He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “It’s not, but sometimes it’s necessary. And I think it’s the right decision for both of us. But I don’t want you to feel like you were the cause of it. This was a long time coming”.

You felt a bit more at ease, but the weight of the situation still pressed on you. “Thank you for telling me. It helps to understand where you’re coming from”.

Jensen leaned forward again, his eyes earnest. “I want to move forward, but only if you’re comfortable with it. We can take it slow, one step at a time, and see where it goes. No pressure, no expectations. Just honesty and figuring things out together”.

You were quiet for a while, processing everything Jensen had just shared. The weight of the situation still hung heavy, but there was a sense of clarity in his words. You knew you had fallen for Jensen, harder than you’d ever expected. Now, without the complications of cheating or secrets, it was just you and Jensen.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “I care about you too, Jensen”, you admitted softly. “I never wanted things to get so messy, but they did. And now, we have a chance to do this right”.

Jensen’s eyes softened, a hint of relief washing over his face. “We do”, he agreed. “And I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make this work. One step at a time, like I said”.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One step at a time”.

The room felt lighter, the tension easing as you both allowed yourselves to consider a future together. It wasn’t going to be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but the honesty between you was a solid foundation to build on.

Jensen reached out, taking your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, grounding you in the moment. “Let’s start with dinner tonight”, he suggested. “Nothing fancy, just the two of us, somewhere quiet. We can talk more, get to know each other better outside of all this".

You felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. “That sounds nice”. you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

Jensen smiled, his eyes twinkling with hope. “Great. It’s a date, then".

———————————

A/N: THAT IT.... THE END!

Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @spnfamily-j2 @cheynovak @anacarolinadasf @winchesterwild78

[ordowrites]

When You Are Sick

because i am sick, i am gonna be self indulgent with this.

cw: fluff, mostly. afab reader but no pronouns are used, some pet names (precious, my fire). mdni, minors dni. purely self indulgent. i want diluc to fret over me ok

characters: diluc & arlecchino

diluc

he's worried, needless to say - you spikes a fever pretty quickly and he's trying to remain calm and stoic. hay fever is common or perhaps, it's the flu or something else. either way, he starts to worry when you reject food offered to you and he considers calling all the best doctors he can. whatever you wish at this point, it will he his command. medications, tea, softer blankets. anything to make sure you're comfortable and on the track to recovery.

"diluc," you mumble as you crack open an eye, his pacing giving you a worse headache. you cough a bit. he freezes, looks at you, probably mentally preparing for the worst. "if you want to help, stop... moving around in here." you roll over and sigh, coughing again and groaning.

"is there something i can get you? perhaps i can fetch a medic? run you a bath? my fire, please tell me what you need."

you let out a breath. a groan.

"can you cuddle with me?" you finally ask. he runs warm and right now, you feel cold. "play with my hair. anything to get you to stop pacing."

he thinks for a moment - you two have shared a bed many times but he still hesitates. but he finally climbs in, and you sigh, relaxing in his warmth as his fingers softly start to stroke your hair and rub your back. he revels in your soft hair, always finding new ways to think of you as perfect.

"how's this, my flame?"

"mm, perfect. as always."

ever the one to please you, he continues until he hears you breathing deeply - finally asleep, although fitful.

arlecchino

to say she is unhappy is incorrect - displeased? you're not sure. you can't read her, but her hand is cold against your clammy skin and she clicks her tongue.

"how do you feel, precious?"

"...horrible."

she sits down at the side of the bed, weight causing some movement. "unfortunate. i suppose we'll have to put our dinner plans on hold until further notice."

"'m sorry." you mumble, too tired to actually care. you sigh and lean in when she rubs her thumb on your cheek. "really. this is stupid."

"we all get sick, no need to fret." alrecchino says and your eyes slide shut briefly. you're awoken later to a smell and you groan, sitting up. she's back in your guys room with some soup. "can you sit up, precious? you need to eat."

oh, you'd actually fallen asleep. it's darker than before - save for some lit candles.

when you do sit up - hit by dizziness and nausea - you consider laying back down. you don't protest as she chooses to feed you, savoring each bite. afterwards, she makes you take a sip of some water and tells you to rest again. she'll be back in a little bit.

so you do, grateful for arlecchino's pampering and coddling. you think, briefly, that she's kissed you on the lips but brush it off as a feverish haze.

"we'll talk about your silly choice to be outside in the rain without being properly dressed when you feel better." she says before she leaves.

maybe you can play up being sick for a few extra days when you start to recover.

[impala-dreamer]

Tell me a story about reader trying to hide something from Spencer Reid (fluffish)

A Not-So-Secret Secret

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Fluff and Secrets and Pregnancy Revelations

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

It was like trying to play tag with God. You took a step, and he followed. You turned a corner, and he was there waiting. It was fucking impossible. He seemed to be everywhere at the same time; his light brown eyes forever following you around, detailing and documenting every odd move and every evasive answer. It almost made you feel sorry for the serial killers he interviewed and every suspect he’d been in contact with.  

Almost. 

While you were becoming increasingly infuriated with his passive observational skills, you were still determined to keep it all a secret. Soon, you would make your little announcement, apologize for being so moody the last few weeks, and give an excuse for all the seemingly random running out of rooms you’d been doing in the early mornings. Soon, you’d sit him down and spill the beans; pray that he’d be OK with it all. Soon. But trekking through the damp woods of Vermont while looking for an UnSub was neither the time nor the place. 

Even though he was a few yards ahead, you could somehow still feel him watching you. It was as if he had eyes behind his head, or, at the very least, a bit of ESP that transcended the physical limitations of the human body and let him watch you no matter where he was. The internal workings of his mind were surely a sight to see. Maybe someday, you mused, you’d put him in an MRI machine and map his genius in real-time. 

Fallen branches snapped under your boots and the fog chilled your bones. The FBI windbreaker you’d grabbed instead of your usual wool coat was not enough to stave off the dampness. Pausing for a moment, you cupped your hands and breathed into them, hoping to take the frozen sting off of your fingertips.

Spencer heard your footsteps stop and spun around instantly. 

“Are you OK?” His voice was low but his concern carried easily through the trees.

A deep breath squared your shoulders and you prepared to resume your hike. “Absolutely,” you replied with a wink and a smile. 

He knew you were lying. He always knew. What he didn’t know, you hoped, was why. 

To your left, the heavy flapping of wings caught your ear, and you turned to see a large black bird taking flight. You followed it upwards, watching its impressive wingspan darken the sky as it ascended. As it faded into the gray sky, a line of smoke appeared about half a mile away. A chimney. The scent of burning logs floated by on a cold breeze and the smell turned your stomach. Quickly, you dropped your face into your hand, desperate to hide your gag. 

Spencer was a foot away when you straightened back up. His eyes were narrowed, his lips drawn into a tight pink line. He let his hand hover over your shoulder, unsure if you’d allow it to land. 

“Y/N-” 

Clearing your throat, you brushed him off with a reassuring but fake smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” 

Damnit. “Spencer, if I say I’m fine, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms and tried to stand your ground but another wave of nausea struck you. The wretch clicked in the back of your throat and you swallowed it down, hard. “Let’s go,” you insisted. “I’m freezing.” 

He sighed. “I told you to wear a sweater.” His hand fell lovingly on your shoulder. “You know, the weather in this area this time of year can-”

You cut him off harshly. “I do not need a lesson on the weather patterns of New England, Spencer!” 

He flinched at your tone and slowly curled his fingers as he lifted his hand away. He frowned and nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry.” 

Your heart sank and you cursed every wayward hormone and chemical in your body. “No.” You shook your head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Moody and terrified. Starving yet nauseated; freezing yet sweating… “I’m cold and I wanna get back to the hotel. This is getting us nowhere.” Did I mention I’m gonna throw up if I have to keep smelling that fire? “Let’s just hurry up and do what we came to do so I can go home. OK?” Also, my feet hurt and I’m a little dizzy.

He studied your face for a long moment and then nodded. “Let’s just go. We’re only a mile from the car and I doubt we’ll get much further before you pass out.” 

His words flowed in one ear and out the other before spinning around and slapping you in the face. You jolted. 

“Uh, what?” 

“You’re shaking and you’ve gone a little pale.” His hand returned to your shoulder. The weight was reassuring but his words had you on edge. 

Do you know? You stared up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I’m fine.”

His other hand pressed gently against your cheek and you melted into the comforting warmth. “You should probably eat something too. I have saltines and water in the car. It’ll settle your stomach.” 

Son of a bitch. “Not hungry,” you fibbed, “but thanks.” 

A gurgle from your stomach told otherwise and you gave up. Tiny tears welled in your eyes and you sank into yourself a bit. Busted. Found out. Betrayed by your own gut. 

Spencer smiled sweetly. “You know I know, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I do now.” 

He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled your head over his heart. 

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, when my water broke?”

He laughed. It vibrated through him. “Why were you afraid to tell me?” 

With a sigh, you pushed away to look up at him. He was handsome and messy and you wanted to punch him in his stupid perfect face for being so smart. “I wasn’t afraid, I just… wanted to… I don’t know, I mean, we never talked about kids or anything but-” 

He stopped your ramble with a kiss and held your face gently in his hands. “It’s a good surprise,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out, OK?” 

His smile was honest and you relaxed. “OK.” 

“Good.” 

“But seriously, I need to eat something or I’m going to puke all over you.” 

The walk back to the car was somehow easier. Perhaps it was the relief of not having to hide anymore, or maybe the prospect of crackers ahead. Either way, it felt as if you were floating over the dead leaves. 

“I did hide it pretty well though, didn’t I?” 

He laughed under his breath at your query. “Yeah. Pretty good.” 

Who’s lying now?

“When did you figure it out?” 

Spencer pushed his glasses up a bit and looked off towards the big black SUV waiting at the edge of the forest. 

“Few weeks ago,” he admitted. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “You left the pregnancy test on the sink.” 

Son of a bitch…

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 4

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Mentions of Helena's assault and recovery, snooping, assumptions, jumping to conclusions, nausea/sickness, fatphobia, misogyny, a touch of internalized fatphobia as well, fist fight, canon typical violence, likely inaccurate portrayal of outdated technology. Summary: A whirlwind accidental revelation for Javier comes at the price of more fighting, while you struggle to digest the truth of the situation and how your own jumping to conclusions affects how you have treated people. Notes: These two dramatic idiots have my heart in a very real way. Happy reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

Helena had tucked herself into bed by the time he came home again, and you were just about finished up with cleaning the living room. Just a few leftovers to put away, and you’ve had some more to eat as well as plenty of water and some aspirin. At this rate you’re pretty much sober again and still have all of your thoughts sunk down the soulmate rabbit hole. Trying to figure out how the universe could possibly pair the two of you has you in enough of a distracted state that you don’t hear the door open as you’re milling around in the kitchen with the radio on.

Throughout driving the girls back to the brothel, they had talked about you. Almost excessively and while he had tried to ignore their comments, he had found himself thinking about that unguarded, affectionate smile that you had given them. Not directed at him, but his stomach twists as he imagines what it would look like if you did. Wondering if he could maybe ease the tension that has been hovering around the apartment and if you are just tipsy enough to find him charming, rather than the gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

He hears the music from the hallway, tilting his head when he closes the door and it doesn't turn down. Depositing his keys on the hook and shucking his jacket before he walks into the kitchen to find you shaking your hips very provocatively. Enticing him to move closer, his cock interested in the rhythm you are moving to the music.

Colombian radio hits are vastly superior to American ones in your opinion. Much more danceable and much catchier. Dancing is the spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine of cleanup go down, so you step around the kitchen the way Inez had taught you back in your early days as a resident of Bogotá.

He could speak, he could press against you and dance with you. Or he can watch until you notice him. You are tense around him, you don't like him and to be honest – he doesn't know what the fuck he thinks about you. He would be interested in fucking you, if you didn't hiss and spit at him. Thinking again about how soft you were when he had pressed you against the wall and searched you before you pushed him away. He had been pissed, but not pissed enough that he didn't remember how you felt.

Dancing around and singing along, it isn’t until you turn completely to go make sure you got everything out of the living room that you see him. “Oh!” You stop dead, nearly falling over in surprise. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

"Don't stop because of me, beautiful." He shoots you a charming grin and steps closer to you. "You have some good moves."

Shuffling slightly on the spot, you find yourself torn between utter annoyance that the girls obviously spilled the beans on the car ride home and gratitude that you don’t have to keep this secret from him. “Well…” You shrug and reach to turn down the radio. “Now you know.”

His brows furrow for a split second before he just thinks that you are talking about your moves. "I do." He smirks slightly and licks his lips. "I'm going to thinking about them tonight."

If you roll your eyes any more heavily they might fall out of your head, and you practically groan as you try to side step him to go back out to the living room again. "Sure, Javier. Enjoy that," you drawl.

He huffs slightly, jaw tense. "Frigid." He murmurs under his breath, shuffling slightly and wondering why the fuck he cares about your rejection so fucking much. He's been rejected before. Almost as much as he's been lucky, but for some reason, he doesn't like you walking away from him.

Stopping short just steps away from him, you whirl around soundly and narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Javi shrugs slightly, his own eyes cutting as he glances back over at you. "If the shoe fits, sweetheart, wear it." He snorts. "No wonder the CIA fuck was appealing."

"So the fact that I'm not falling down at your feet now means I must not have any passion whatsoever?" You hiss, aware that Helena is sleeping and putting in the effort not to wake her up like she's a child listening to her parents fight. "Is that it?"

"No." He frowns at that question and rolls his eyes. "I don't give a shit where you fall down. Jesus, I was just trying to fucking be nice and flirt a little." He walks over to the counter and snatches up a glass. "Won't fucking do that again."

"You didn't feel compelled to flirt with me before, so you certainly don't have to now that you know." There is a deep and unhappy tension to the way you shake your head, snatching up the scattered napkins and one glass left behind and turning back to the kitchen. Knowing that you're soulmates doesn't change the fact that he's presumptuous and knowingly sent Helena into danger.

"Know fucking what?" He opens the whiskey bottle and pours out a healthy measure. "That you fucked all of them? I figured. Listen, I don't give a shit if you like to eat pussy. And I actually don't get off on watching lesbian sex."

"You'd be a hell of a hypocrite if you cared that we've fucked the same women." The reminder grates in your voice. That you've done nothing different than he has and the only reason he might pretend to care or judge you is because you're a woman.

"Jesus Christ, what is your fucking problem?" Javi slams the glass back down on the table with a loud thunk, whiskey sloshing over his hand.

It's a damn good thing the glass in your hand hits the sink before he makes you jump, otherwise it probably would have smashed on the counter. "I just don't see why it fucking matters!" You sling back at him, rounding on your toes to seethe in his direction. "What does it matter who we've fucked or what fucking God or the universe or fate decided? You didn't like me before any of this and you don't have to pretend to like me now."

He is complete and utterly confused, but he doesn't like the fucking venom you throw at him. Unable to resist huffing. "You're the one who fucking acted like a cunt the first time I met you."

"The first time I met you was at the embassy, asshole. And I nearly tripped over my own jaw thinking how good you looked compared to every other douchebag in the place." Far too blinded by annoyance and hurt to censor yourself anymore, you throw the crumpled napkins in your hand across the counters and all but kick the cabinets. "If I had known what a selfish bastard my soulmate would turn out to be, sending a vulnerable woman into the lion's den for information? I might have thought twice!"

It's like the fucking world crashes down around him. Punching the air out of him and making him nearly choke. Soulmate. His mind spins and blanks before it spins again. Javier has never cared about his soulmate, not after discovering that someone could and would lie about that precious status to trick him into a relationship, a marriage that was not wanted. He had narrowly escaped that fate and had never looked back. Only to be kicked in the fucking balls by learning that this judgmental bitch is claiming to be his. "What?"

The look on his face tells you everything you need to know, and you instantly deflate with one key realization. "They didn't tell you."

"Tell me fucking what?" He growls, nearly shaking with denial and shock.

"Javier..." Fuck, fuck, fuck. You are definitely the bitch in this scenario. You can't deny that now. "They've...we've both...they saw our marks months ago. All three of them. We got giggly and stupid drinking whiskey all afternoon and they let it slip to me. I – very wrongfully, apparently – assumed they'd told you in the car when you were driving them home."

He had come home early to pack. He was leaving for Medellín again. Needing to meet up with Carillo and make sure that the information that had been learned that night was put to good use. Only to run into tipsy, happy women and make the mistake of trying to soften up one's rough edges with him. You blame him for what happened to Helena. You made that obvious. You claim to be his soulmate and you hate him. His jaw clenches and he turns around to walk out of the kitchen, needing to get away from you, from here.

"Frigid." You toss at his retreating back, wishing you had something else in your hands to throw out of sheer anger.

Some fucking soulmates you two are.

******

Javier slips out of the apartment less than an hour later. His bag is packed, his room straightened, but he makes sure that there are no sounds coming from the living room. He frowns as he concentrates on the road, knowing Murphy will be pissed that he beats him to Medellín instead of leaving with him in the morning like he had planned, but Javi won't sleep. Not tonight.

"What has your panties in a bunch?" Steve asks around the butt of a cigarette the next morning, when Javi is sitting in the middle of the hotel room with files and notes already spread out on the table around him when Murphy walks into the room. "Couldn't wait for me and share the drive?"

His eyes burn, feeling gritty and heavy. Still, he cuts them narrowly, flicking cigarette ash into the tray and reaching for his sixth coffee cup. Almost jittery as he lifts it to his lips. "Had fucking work to do."

"Easy there, Cujo." Putting up both hands in a gesture of peace, Steve flops his suitcase down on the far bed to complete the motion. "Don't bite me for teasing."

“Fuck yourself.” Javi hisses, still in the foulest mood from realizing that you completely blame him for Helena. It’s one thing to blame himself, but he had begged her not to go, only to have her insist that she could. Then he had warned her not to ask questions, to play the part of the brainless beauty, there only to satisfy their sexual urges. But you blame him as if he were the one that had abused her. It makes him want to throw up.

"What the hell happened to you, man?" Steve Sits down beside him and frowns. "This is about four times pissier than I've seen you before." And he can't let Peña go out there and do any kind of work with his temper like this. It'll blow everything up. So he has to diffuse the tension now if he can.

“Don’t fucking worry about it.” Javi drains the rest of the coffee and sighs, putting the cup down and rubbing his eyes.

"I know I'm just a hick," he raises his eyebrows and glances at his partner over his aviators, daring Peña to argue. "But it doesn't take an Ivy League degree to tell you've got shit on your mind."

Javi snorts, mildly impressed when the man’s tenacity. When Murphy doesn’t look away, he sighs and closes his eyes, reaching up and rubbing the sore spot on the back of his neck. “It’s—” he pauses and remembers the way you had looked at him like he was no better than a fucking sicario. “Found out who my soulmate is.”

"Yeesh." The sound Murphy makes is something like a wince and a low whistle mixed together. "Not exactly an ideal discovery, I take it?"

“Every man doesn’t want a ball busting bitch who hates his guts?” Javi snorts, shaking his head.

The other man huffs a laugh, shaking his head at the irony of Javier Peña's soulmate being one of the only women in the world who didn't swoon when he looked at them. "That bad, huh?"

“Don’t want to talk about it.” He clenches his jaw and shakes his head as he crushes out another cigarette. He’s going to be here for at least three days, so the best thing for him is that you will be out of his apartment when he gets back. He can forget that you had ever met him and pretend like he’s not a little crushed that his soulmate isn’t the balm on his soul like he had secretly wished for.

"Yes, you do." Steve asserts with confidence.

“No, I don’t.” He argues, picking up another cigarette and flicking his lighter open.

"If you didn't want to talk about it, you wouldn't even have given me a morsel," Murphy argues, though he keeps his tone light and inconsequential. "Who is she?"

“No one you know.” He sighs and closes his eyes after he blows out the smoke. “She blames me for what happened last week.”

"Shit." Murphy lets out a breath and shakes his head, knowing that that must be cutting Javi deep. "She knows the whole story and still...?"

“Guess fucking so.” He sighs. “So just— yeah. I want to work and fucking forget about her and her stuck up opinion.”

"I'd wager she doesn't know everything, otherwise she wouldn't." When Javier glares at him, Steve puts up his hands in surrender again. "I'm shutting up about it now. That's just my two cents, alright?"

“Can we work now?” Javi asks testily, motioning to the files.

"Fine. Yes. We can work now." Murphy acquiesces. Though he has nothing but endless that he may never have the answers to. Especially if Peña's soulmate really is as prickly as the man says.

“Good.” He had come to Colombia to catch Pablo Escobar, not to fucking worry about a soulmate.

******

The morning is excruciating, but not because of a hangover. Not because you don't sleep enough, or because you slept weird and gave yourself a mystery pain. It's because you had stress dreams the entire night of terrible things happening to Javier with nothing but anger and hateful words in the air between you. In one of them he had even refused to let you see him in the hospital as he lay dying because he hated you so much.

And the worst part about every single dream was that you deserved it.

So waking up in the morning is excruciating, but you decide to do something about it. A shower, clean clothes, even a decent outfit from the clothes that you had packed to bring over to his place. The effort you put in to make yourself not just look presentable but actually to look nice might be misplaced and based in guilt, but when you go down the hall to knock on Javier's bedroom door, you at least know for sure that you're doing your best to be respectful of another human. Just because you don't get along doesn't mean he deserved to have your soulmate status spat at him in anger when he heard it for the first time.

The knock goes unanswered. A silent refusal to even acknowledge your existence and he doesn’t even move around inside.

The silence stretches far too long, and you try again, knocking a little louder. Again, nothing. Utter nothingness is your only answer. "Javier?" You try, wondering if something in your tone might help. You're not angry today. Or, at least, you're trying very hard to suppress that reflex.

Still there’s no sound coming from the bedroom. A door down the hall opens and closes, but the sound is barely audible from this portion of the apartment.

"Javier?" Louder this time, and you knock again. More certain. More assertive. But consciously keeping any thread of anger out of it at all. Wondering if maybe that sound was him leaving the apartment, but it didn't sound like the front door to you. It sounded like the hall closet, and you take a peek down the hall and find that yes – Helena's door is open. She must have been getting a clean towel to shower with.

"Javier?" You try once more, and with no response you decide to try the doorknob. When it gives unexpectedly, you push the door open a crack and call his name one more time. Still getting no response, you bite the bullet and step into his room.

His room is large, the bed would have dwarfed a smaller space, but it fits the large room. Massive, it’s covered in a neat dark blue duvet and has the pillows neatly propped against the wooden rattan center of the headboard. Nothing is out of place in the room, like it is neat out of habit or compulsion which is ironic because his desk is always a mess.

"Oh...kay...?" Looking around provides you with absolutely no clues whatsoever as to what may have happened, until you take another step inside and catch a glimpse of a piece of paper on his nightstand.

While he had packed, Javi had decided that you were nosey enough to come into his room and had decided to write you a note. Leaving it somewhere you would find it if you did decide to snoop.

"The hell...?" You murmur aloud, seeing your name written neatly on the top line

“Went to Medellín. It was the reason I came home early and ruined your fun. Won’t be back for a few days so I’m sure you’ll be gone by then. Lock the door when you leave and have a nice life.” Javi had added on to the bottom of the note. “There’s money for Helena in the kitchen drawer. Give it to her for me.”

Apologizing this morning isn't going to happen. It's too little too late, and in the form of a gesture he clearly has no interest in. Sighing out, you pick up the note without touching anything else in his room and close the door behind you, then go retrieve the mentioned cash from his kitchen drawer. You know which one he means, you'd seen him add and subtract from the amount in the drawer a few times over the course of your stay here.

There’s two thousand dollars in the drawer. He had thought about giving it to her in person, but she always had a hard time accepting money from him. She wouldn’t have taken this money because she would have seen it as a goodbye. He knows that things have changed, their intimacy shifted into a different skin and he doesn’t want her to think that it’s because of what happened. That she’s lacking in some way. There’s a little note under the rubber band of the cash. “You deserve more than I could ever give you. Your visa is approved sweetheart. I’m sorry the cost was so high. I wish things were different. Javier”

"Shit..." You must read that note three times over, feeling the concern and the care in it, and how different it is from the one he left you. How cold – frigid – his regard for you is. And wondering if you missed something somewhere along the line.

Helena calls your name, stepping out of the bathroom again. “Are you okay?”

"I—um—" Stumbling over the answer, you have a feeling you look as lost as you feel when you cross the room to offer Helena the wad of cash and her note. "Javier had to go back to Medellín," you tell her, nearly choking on the words. "He left you a note."

Her look of confusion is cleared up when she sees the cash. Making her sigh as she reaches for it with an almost sad expression. She knows what it is and almost wants to refuse it. He knows now, although you don't look remotely happy. She reads the note, eyes wide and she starts to cry. "It— it was approved!" She chokes out. "I am leaving!"

“It looks that way.” Your head bobs slightly in a nod and you do your best to keep all of the emotions of the morning out of your voice and smile. “Do you know where you want to live when you get there?”

"I have family in Chicago." She murmurs softly, looking down at the note. "It—" She closes her eyes and swallows. "I can't believe that it happened. I told him that going to the party would show my willingness to get them information." It had been at a high price, but it was worth it since she could take her son and leave this place.

You freeze on the spot, eyes widening slightly and you try to remember how to swallow. How to breathe. “You…volunteered?”

She looks back up at you in confusion, tilting her head as she watches your expression. "Of course." She shakes her head. "Javier did not want us to go to Medellín to the party, but none of us could pass it up." She pauses. "You think he – that it is his fault?" She shakes her head again, understanding now why you might not like him. That would be a heavy sin to forgive. "No, I was – I fucked up. It is my fault that Gacha got suspicious. He is insane." She shivers slightly and closes her eyes, trying to block out the memories. "I thought I was going to die, to – then there was yelling and gunshots. The man who was – he was dead and Javi was there. Carrying me out of that room after he covered me up and telling me that it would alright." You had never pushed her to tell you what happened, but she would not let you think that Javier was anything but a hero in her eyes for saving her that night.

"But—" Your mind is spinning and you're trying your best to keep up with the thoughts swirling and trying to be heard over each other. Shouting over each other. Screaming at you to be heard and screaming about how utterly wrong you were. "But he told you what to do—?" You insist, still trying to wrap your head around it.

She wonders how you could know that. If Javier had confided in you about what had happened. You know that he had been more upset than he would show you, maybe he had been rambling and you had misheard him. "After I told him I would not stay home, he told me that he would do his best to protect us." She sighs softly, a part of her wishing she had listened to him. "Even before I got on the plane, he had asked me to reconsider. To think of my son." She smiles sadly. "I was thinking of him. That is the problem."

"So I've..." You swallow, hard, and feel your eyes widen all over again as water starts to push at the back of them. It's shame, this deep, sickening feeling in your gut. Shame and guilt. And you fucking deserve every second of it. "I've had it completely wrong?"

"Javi blames himself too." She admits. "He feels bad that he could not protect me." She hadn't been completely out of it some of the times that he had sat with her, confessed his guilt while thinking she couldn't hear him. "Your soulmate is a lot more emotional than he pretends to be." She smiles. "He has had to harden himself in order to do what must be done. How else can you survive a battle against monsters?"

"Shit..." Your stomach roils, flipping angrily and making you so sick you almost hunch over. "You're...you're right, honey. Of course you are. I just...excuse me." Putting all of the puzzle pieces together in your mind – or at least starting to – has you sprinting for the bathroom to empty your stomach.

She frowns after you, hearing you retch and following you into the bathroom. She can't do anything more than rub your back, but she owes you that after the care and comfort she has been given. "It's okay." She soothes you softly, wondering if there have been harsh words between you. If that was why there seemed to be such a heavy feeling to the apartment.

"I'm fine." A bold-faced lie, but the idea of being pitied or even taken care of after you accused your own fucking soulmate of hurting her just makes you even sicker. "Just hungover," you double down, as if you could make the lie into truth by sheer force of will.

"We drank a lot of whiskey." She hums, pursing her lips. "I will make you some coffee." Sensing you need a moment alone; she quickly disappears to start the coffee pot that is in Javi's kitchen.

It doesn't matter that you both know full well that the alcohol didn't do this to you. It doesn't matter that you did this to yourself in absolutely every way. As you lean over the toilet with your knees planted on the bathroom tile, all you can think about is the crestfallen, half-broken expression on Javier's face last night when you revealed that you were his soulmate in the middle of a spitting-mad argument.

Your soulmate is a lot more emotional than he pretends to be. Helena's voice rings in your ears. He has had to harden himself in order to do what must be done.

There is a folded piece of paper on the counter and Helena opens it, reading the note and sighing softly. Apparently things were not the best between the two of you, based on the terse tone. She wonders if she should call Javi, tell him that you are his soulmate. It might help.

The phone is nearby, and she knows he wouldn't mind a long-distance call, but she isn't sure where in Medellín he is. Her best guess would be the hotel where everyone was staying last weekend, but it would only be a guess.

Dialing the hotel, she asks for his room, pleasantly surprised when she is connected. Waiting to hear him pick up, the phone just rings and rings and rings. Making her sigh as she hangs the phone back on the hook and turns to see you walk into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that," you murmur, walking straight to the cupboard to get a glass for water. All the life has drained from your face and your eyes are downcast, making you look very sick all of a sudden.

"The coffee is brewing." She reaches out and strokes your arm. "We will have you feeling better in no time."

"I'm fine." Even repeating it sounds hollow, but you get a glass of water from the tap and lean back against the counter to slowly sip it with your eyes closed. What the fuck were you thinking? Chewing him a new asshole without all the facts? All but flat out accusing him of throwing her life and safety away? You're a fucking investigative journalist. You know better than to not get all the facts.

"You will be." She promises, opening the fridge and pulling out some of the food that had been left from yesterday. "We will make sure of it."

"You don't have to do that," you protest, the weakness in your voice obvious. "Take care of me, I mean."

The look that she shoots you is reproachful, as if you were a naughty child. "And you did not have to take care of me." She reminds you. "We are friends, friends take care of each other."

What you mean is that you don’t feel deserving of her care, but saying that out loud will only open a conversation as to why and you would rather avoid that if you can. “Tell me about your family,” you prompt instead. “The ones in Chicago.”

"Cousins." You obviously want to change the subject and she is willing to do that. "My mother's sister married an American and moved to Chicago when we were children."

“So you’ll have a whole extended family to be with. To raise your son with.” It is nothing less than everything she deserves, to have family and a home and secure happiness waiting for her on the other end of this hellish tunnel. “That’s wonderful.”

"Hopefully so." Getting out of Colombia will be good for her, although she hates that she will have to leave her friends, you and Javi, behind when she leaves.

“I’ll have to come out and see you sometime. Once I’m home again,” you murmur as if you’re reading her thoughts. “Chicago is just a few hours on a plane from where I live.”

"That would be good." She smiles softly, although she doesn't really expect it. No one really would want to socialize with a former prostitute that you used to sleep with. "That would be nice."

“Chicago is cold.” You wonder if she has any idea. If she has talked to her aunt or her cousins much. “But the food is great and there is a lot to do. You’ll be busy before you know it.”

"My cousin said she could help me get a job." She doesn't want to keep sleeping with people for money, doesn't know if she could anymore. She wants a better life for her son and is determined to give it to him. "It is good that I have been able to work on my English with you and Javi."

“We can switch to English whenever you want.” She won’t be here much longer. You understand that, but you want to do whatever you can to help. “Is there a family business or something like that? That you’ll be able to work in?”

"They have a restaurant." She smiles. "Our food is pretty popular in Chicago apparently."

“That’s wonderful.” No one deserves for things to finally take an upturn more than Helena does. She’s very literally been through hell and all you can hope now is that she gets to leave it all behind her. “It will be a fresh start. You deserve it, honey.”

The coffee maker beeps and she turns towards the pot. "There we go." She smiles. "I will miss fresh coffee beans though." She jokes. "But not that much."

“I promise you can get good coffee in Chicago,” you assure her, appreciating that she can have a sense of humor about absolutely anything at all.

"Yeah." She hums and gives you a reassuring look. "It's more important that my son is proud of me." She admits. "More important than coffee that he has me."

“It’s going to be a good change.” For so many reasons. For almost every reason, you hope. And the thought that comes to you next almost chokes you with its irony. “Maybe your soulmate is waiting for you up there? Who knows.”

"Only if he's as good as yours is." She turns back to the cabinet to grab two coffee mugs, not seeing how your face falls.

“I fucked it up.” You murmur, letting the words out into the morning air. Releasing the feeling of failure from your stomach before it can make you sick again.

"Javier is under a lot of stress." She dismisses your claim and turns back to hand you a cup of the coffee. "He probably felt ambushed when he was told." She can admit that they didn't handle this the right way, but there was no going back now. She's sure that whatever little spat you had was completely Javi not taking the news well. "I am going to get dressed." She leans in and kisses your cheek. "Don't be jealous of the girls in Medellín too much. He will be back and fucking you soon enough."

Even though you highly doubted his return would bring anything more than icy stares and cutting words at most, you don’t say so as Helena sashays out of the room with a bounce in her step that you haven’t seen in weeks. Her good news has finally arrived. She’s going to to get out — of this lifestyle and this place — and she deserves to be happy about it.

But you? You have fucked it up. And you’re not sure what to do about it now.

******

Three days later, Javi opens the door to his apartment. Listening for a moment and he's oddly deflated when he doesn't hear anything. There is a stillness that can only be attributed to abandonment hanging in the air. Everything is neat as a pin, even the ashtray on the coffee table has been cleaned out, the old afghan throw on the back of the sofa straight. You had obviously made sure to leave his apartment better than you had found it and he's a little annoyed at himself, wondering if you had felt anything but relief when you realized he was gone. Sighing to himself, he drops his bag and kicks the door shut. The trip had been successful, but his stomach still churns when he recalls the look on your face, the loathing in your eyes when you spit at him. Fuck. You're gone like he had thought you would be, but for some reason, he's unhappy about that too.

You had left like he asked you to. Gone back to your apartment. Broken up with Alex in person without asking him about any ulterior motives because honestly you didn’t want to know. And then you’d sat with Inez in your living room and cried your eyes out as you explained everything that had happened. Every angry word and hateful look. Every slammed door. By the end of it you’d given yourself a migraine with the tears and been grateful to simply go to bed, and for the very first time you were sorry to be in your own bed rather than in Javier’s apartment.

Staring at the phone, Javi's pissed at himself. He memorized that fucking number. Your pager number. He's picked up the phone six different times to page you but each time he had slammed the phone down and picked up a cigarette to take a drag from it. Reminding himself that you had nothing to say to him, you would probably prefer that he not even exist, but he had taken a closer look at your marks every fucking time he was undressed and hates how he wonders how they look on your body.

You had decided to avoid the embassy like the plague, and kept that resolve for an entire week before you finally had to go in to collect some quotes and verify information for your latest article. The small spotlight on Helena that she had consented to used only her alias to avoid anyone identifying her from the interview once she arrived in the States, and your editor had even promised to pay her more than originally agreed upon in a good will gesture that certainly wouldn't hurt as she got on her feet in Chicago very soon. Your own fears of running into Alex or Javier had to be put aside so you could do your job, especially when doing your job meant helping your friend.

"Fuck." Javi picks up his coffee cup for the third time, forgetting again that it was empty and glaring at the bottom of the mug.

"It won't refill itself." Steve teases, making him cut his eyes over at the other man.

Murphy had been vastly amused by the fact that Javi's mood hadn't improved, even suggesting that he go see one of the girls, but he couldn't even do that. There is this fucking nagging sense of guilt that curdles in his stomach when he even thinks about Vanessa or Freckles. He had stopped by to see Helena and to give her the paperwork he had gotten from Colleen, but nothing else had happened and he had practically fled when she brought up your name. He couldn't even fuck away his stress now that he knows who his soulmate is and that pisses him off even more. Flipping Murphy a middle finger, he shoves back from his desk to walk to the break room coffee pot.

The hallways of the embassy are typically busy, and the breakroom on this floor is far enough away that he has time to stew on his way there. Stewing so much that he apparently stops looking where he's going, leading him to walk smack into a woman's shoulder as she began to round the corner, sending hot coffee and paperwork scattering in multiple directions with the sound of a surprised yelp.

"Fuck, I'm—" His eyes meet yours and the apology dies on his lips. Shocked to literally run into you in the halls of the embassy. Frowning slightly as he glances down to make sure that he didn't spill the drink on you. "Shit." He hisses, bending down to start gathering up your now stained paperwork."

"I'm sorry." The words spring instantly from your lips on seeing him, regardless of the fact that you're certain he doesn't want to hear a word you have to say. Even if he only accepts an apology for this moment of clumsiness, you would still consider it a small win amongst all of the chaos surrounding knowing each other.

"My fault." He grunts, not looking up although he could easily look up your skirt. He swallows harshly and jumbles the papers together even though they are all out of order now and stands as he tries to straighten them even more.

"No." You shake your head, taking the papers from his hands after you tug your blouse back into place, and try not to think too hard about the small touch of your hands when you do. "I'm entirely at fault out of the two of us."

Javi shifts to pick up his cup and glances down at it's now empty vessel. "Yeah, well, we'll agree to disagree again." He rocks his jaw to the side and quickly glances up at you before he's looking down the hall. "Better go get more coffee. Sorry again." Needing to get away from you before he can do something stupid.

Knowing you deserve to be brushed off doesn't necessarily make it hurt less, and the wobble of your chin as he hurries away without so much as a spared glance in your direction makes you wish you had never set foot in this godforsaken embassy today.

"Shit, shit, shit." Javi bypasses the break room, the idea of coffee nearly nauseating. Instead he pushes into the men's bathroom, his stomach twisting from the brief run in with you and he feels like he's drowning.

"Careful there, Peña." A tall man in a poorly cut suit shifts to the side to narrowly avoid being knocked over as he dries his hands at the sink. "Might get the grease from your hair on me and I don't think the DEA pays well enough for dry cleaning bills based on what you and Murphy wear on a daily basis."

Fuck, as if his day couldn't get any worse. The ringing in his ears fades from the pure annoyance but he would be damned if he would thank this CIA fuck for that. "What the fuck are you doing haunting the halls of the embassy?" He snorts. "Other than fucking annoying people."

"Some of us actually do our work." Alex replies haughtily. He turns away from Peña with a scoff to straighten his tie in the mirror. "And in an office bigger than a broom closet, to boot."

"Really?" Javi smirks, resisting the urge to slam that pretty face into the mirror and break his nose. It has nothing to do with the fact that you were fucking this prick. Not at all. "Didn't realize the CIA was headquartered in La Dispensaria."

Alex's eyebrow barely twitches at the mention of the club, but he turns to lean back against the sink bay and crosses his arms over his chest condescendingly. "What would you know about it?" He asks, tone pitched down into disapproval that runs very near to an accusation.

"Plenty." He's hit a nerve and he knows it. Javier glances towards the door as if he expected you to be standing there. "Pretty clever, climbing into bed with the journalist." He compliments, although there's nothing clever about it in his mind. He used you. "Making sure you could get in and out of the place without anyone looking too closely."

"Not the most pleasant assignment, but someone had to bite the bullet." He shakes his head at that and tosses the wadded up paper towel in his hands toward the trash bin. "No one picks a fat chick, but at least she wasn't a prude." He smirks at Peña, dusting himself off performatively once more before he pushes off from the sinks to head to the door. "Maybe I'll make another visit. Even whales suck cock."

On a normal day, Javier has restraint. He can trade insults and not jump. It's not a normal day and the conversation is about someone that is a lot closer to him than this fucking prick could ever imagine. Even if you don't like him, even if you hate him, you are his soulmate and he would never let that kind of insult ride. The fucker is halfway out the door when Javi hits him with his lowered shoulder, both of them careening into the hallway and crashing to the floor. "Fucker!" Javi hiss, rolling him over and punching him in that fucking smart ass, insulting mouth. He's furious and right now, he's going to take out all his frustration on this slimy dickhead.

They crash into the open hallway with such a suddenness and literally violent force that it sends a few typists scattering. A few nearby Milgroup jarheads take an interest, of course, as do some of the FBI suits, and the crowd that gathers in the hall outside the men’s bathroom soon looks far more like a high school brawl than anything else.

Sets of eyes are easily attracted to a group this big, though, and it takes only a matter of a minute before you become aware of it too. Doing your best to peek over shoulders and around heads, you curse under your breath when you finally get a look at who is fighting. “Let me through,” you insist, nudging your way between a pair of men in fatigues on one side and two chattering women in heels and suits on the other.

“Let me through!” You rumble the second time, and find that you make it to the front of the group that much easier with anger in your voice.

Your ex-boyfriend and your soulmate. On the floor. In a fistfight. “What the absolute fuck is going on?” You huff at them before you can stop yourself.

Javi hisses when Alex's fist crashes into his jaw, hitting him harder than he had expected the pussy to hit, but he's shaking it off and retaliating. Lunging at him again and jabbing him in the kidneys several times before he pulls back and punches him in the head again. "Piece of shit!" He hears people talking, thinks he even hears your voice, but he doesn't stop. Too busy venting all his frustration out into this fight.

“Stop!” Whatever has caused this fight, you are acutely aware of the fact that you’re probably more in the middle of it than anyone else present, and shove past the crowd fully to try to drag Javier off of Alex. Smaller and faster despite being broad in his own right, Javier is clearly on the literal top of this fight regardless of who started it. The fact that you want to punch Alex for your own reasons is something you fully put aside for now as you put yourself bodily between the two men. “Javi, stop!”

The men that are watching the fight on the edges of the crowd are enjoying themselves, some of them rooting for Javi, some of the rooting for Alex. They are also exercising caution. It's never safe to grab a man who is the middle of a fight. Too easy to end up taking a hit themselves. Javi feels someone grabbing at his shoulders and he whips around the hit the bastard. Only stopping himself in horror when he sees your eyes widen and you flinch away to protect yourself from the blow. Freezing when he realizing that he had almost hit you. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out before the loud and furious voice of the Ambassador rings out from behind the crowd. "What the fuck is going on here?"

The assembled crowd scatters, all of them wanting to keep their jobs fully in tact and not be implicated in whatever they were just witnessing. The only people who don’t flee are Alex — laid out on the floor and groaning pitifully about his face — and you and Javier, who stand side by side with equal confusion and concern in your eyes.

"Peña." Even though she is a solid five-foot one inch tall, Noonan doesn't suffer fools lightly. Her face filled with fury, she takes in the scene and almost immediately determines you are the cause of the issue. "Why is that every fucking problem I have in this place, you are at the center of it?" She snarls before she looks over at you. "Do you work here?" She demands.

“No ma’am,” you answer honestly. Though your work does take you in and out of the embassy often, you don’t actually work there. Right now you’re just standing there with fear in your eyes and a lump in your throat, wishing you could reach for Javier and knowing you would be deservedly rejected if you tried.

She looks back at Javier. “Are you both fucking her?” She demands, wanting to know why you didn’t scurry off like the rest of them.

“Neither of them is and what the hell does that matter?” You spit back at the ambassador, finally seeing for the first time what your friends meant when they told you over and over how alike you and Javier could be.

"If you aren't involved, then get the hell out of my Embassy." Noonan hisses, narrowing her eyes at the two men on the floor. "Agent Peña, Agent Harris, get your asses off the floor and into my office, now." She turns on her heel and marches back towards her office, giving them no chance to argue.

“I’ll wait outside,” you murmur to Javier, wondering if he even cares. But something in the hollow of your chest screams at you to wait. To talk to him.

"Go home." He doesn't look at you, afraid that he will punch Alex again if he looks at your pretty face. You don't deserve the comments that fucker made. "I'm going to get my ass chewed for a while."

Before you can even ask him if he’s sure, Javier stalks off after the ambassador and Alex pulls himself up onto his feet with nothing but a snarl aimed in your direction.

Wait for an hour, you bargain with yourself, worried that Javier might be about to lose his badge over something that vaguely concerns you. If he does, you know for certain he’ll never so much as speak to you again. And you wouldn’t blame him. Just an hour and then go home. There’s nothing you can do here that will help.

His jaw aches but his fist hurts like bitch as he listens to Noonan rake his ass over the coals. His eyes cut over to where the CIA agent is slumped in his chair, craddling his cheek and it gives him an enormous sense of satisfaction to see that his left eye is already swollen shut. "You're fucking suspended for the next three days." That makes him whip his head back towards the ambassador and he leans forward. "Ma'am, we are in the middle of an important sting." He stresses, not wanting to be taken off the case for even an hour. "We will get word any second now."

“And you can read Murphy’s report when it’s over.” She informs him tersely. “Go home, Peña. If I even get a whiff of you around here before Friday, it’ll be your ass.”

He clenches his jaw, knowing there is no point in arguing with her. He's already listened to her rail at him for nearly an hour and half. Neither man would tell her why they were fighting. He stands and shoots Alex a hot glare before he walks out of the ambassador's office. He needs a fucking drink.

******

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice echoes in the empty stairwell, just you and Chi-Chi sitting on the top step together with her head in your lap as you stroke her fur and tell her what happened at the embassy today. Inez is out with your landlady, driving her to the beauty parlor for her weekly appointment, so you can’t even go have a drink with your friend and try to figure out what step comes next. All you can do is pet Chi-Chi and hope against hope that something might get resolved soon. Though you doubt it.

******

"You look like shit." Javi rolls his eyes, leaning back against the half wall that the table is pressed against and blows out the cigarette smoke as Horatio pulls out the chair opposite him and sits down. "You should see the other guy." Javi huffs, smirking slightly before he frowns again in pain and takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Got what he deserved?” Carillo asks, but he already knows the answer. Javier Peña doesn’t get into fist fights. Not usually. Which means this one had a reason.

"Yeah." He had to take a couple of aspirin, and he could probably use to some ice on his hand, but he's using the whiskey to dull the pain. "What are you doing here?"

“Waiting for a call.” Carillo tilts his head, studying the agent in front of him. “You didn’t forget. Did Murphy not tell you?”

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Javier shakes his head slightly, but it hurts. "Just got suspended for the next three days."

“Shit.” Both men shake their heads now, and Carillo leans back in his seat in dismay. “We timed the raid for tonight. Murphy’s just waiting to call it in when the time is right.”

Javi leans back and nods. There's no location set obviously. He closes his eyes and lifts his glass to his lips again. He's going to miss out on the fruits of his labor and there's not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

“It’s a shame.” Carillo comments, shaking his head. “You’ve worked too hard in this. Just hope whatever ass-kicking you gave out was worth it.”

He shrugs slightly, not willing to talk about it with the man who has been with his soulmate since he was a child. "Don't regret it." Is all he's willing to say.

Horatio nods, merely making a sound of assent before the two men sink into silence and sip their drinks in relative peace. No one ever accused Horatio Carillo of being chatty, and his time spent with Agent Peña is always proof of that.

He knows that you have to at least think that the fight was over you. Still, he feels guilty about how fucking close he came to hitting you. Even if it would have been an accident, he knows you would never forgive him for that, even if you already hate him. Javi sighs.

He has no way of knowing that you’re currently venting your worries and frustrations to an overlarge guard dog. No way of knowing that you stayed at the embassy a full half hour later than you promised yourself you would and he only missed seeing you sitting outside on the steps by a bare five minutes.

The phone on the table between them rings and Javi eyes it jealously. Irritated that he won't be able to go along on the operation. He listens in when Carillo answers, although he can't quite hear what is being said but it's obvious that it's Steve on the other end. He can tell that it's hillbilly English rather than Spanish.

When Carillo hangs up, he’s already standing and slipping back into his jacket. “Time to go,” he tells Peña needlessly. “Don’t get your badge taken tonight,” he warns, leaning over the table. “Stay away from La Dispensaria, okay?”

"Yeah." He sighs and drowns the rest of his drink with a huff and cutting his eyes when he realizes that he got left with the bill for the other man's drink. The name doesn't register with him until he is motioning for another drink. "Fuck!"

There’s a line for the phone at the bar — three separate people who all apparently need to make the most important calls of their lives from this very place and refuse to move, making Javier furious when no one will let him in just to make a fast and vital phone call.

"Goddamnit." Javi hisses, he had already run out of the bar to see if he could catch Carillo but the fucker was already gone. "Hurry up." He growls, moving back to the bar and demanding to use their phone.

The girl behind the bar saunters up with the house phone in hand, smokey eyes and full lips on display. “Need to make a call, handsome?”

"Yes." He doesn't flirt but he reaches for the phone. "It's important."

“Fine.” He doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to play, which makes her frown, but she still sets the phone down on the bar. “Tip your bartender,” she singsongs, walking away.

The number that he has memorized is punched in hastily, listening to the message and he remembers that he doesn't know the fucking number to the bar. "Hey!" He shouts down the bar. "What’s the number here?"

The bartender slings the ten-digit number back at him carelessly, annoyed that her attempt at flirting didn't get anywhere. When the message asks for a call back number, Javi punches it in and adds #911 to the end of the message that will flash across the beeper’s face.

He sits and frets for a whole three minutes before the bar's phone rings, staring at it like it's offended him until the telephone starts to clatter to life. The first ring barely finishes before he is snatching it up and hissing your name down the line. Needing to make sure that it's you before he says anything else.

"Javier?"

You sound bewildered but he doesn't let you say anything else. "Get out of your apartment. Get out now!" He growls, his heart pounding when you start to protest.

"What is goi—"

"There is a raid team coming right now, get out!" He shouts.

"Shit!" You slam down the receiver, shove your beeper back in your pocket, and sprint to your front door. Purse, leather jacket, keys, and you're locking the door behind you only to come face to face with Chi-Chi on the stair landing. Your landlady went to see her son and grandkids tonight so she isn't home, and thank fuck you encouraged Inez to go on her date tonight after dropping off your sweet landlady, instead of staying home with your sorry ass. "Come on, sweet girl," you say to Chi-Chi, unwrapping her leash from the top of the stair rail and attaching it to her collar. "I'm gonna take you to meet a new friend."

The only place you can think to go is to Javier's apartment. He'll be at the raid, but at least it's far enough away from your building to be safe.

Javi presses his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. Needing to go to that fucking club but he knows he can't. He'll just have to call Steve. Picking up the phone again, he dials his partner's cell phone number and prays that he picks up the goddamn thing.

"Murphy." Steve has picked up his SAT phone blindly as he works to get himself ready for the impending raid. He's given the time and the location and now it's go time.

Javi sighs in relief and he says your name. "That reporter." He reminds him. "She lives in that fucking building. Don't let her get killed by a trigger happy fucker." He can't tell him right now that you are his soulmate. It'll distract the man. "I told her to get out. But keep an eye out for her."

"Copy that." Steve barks down the phone. He's not in the mood to ask questions or alter his plans, but he knows the person to look out for. "Stay away, Peña," he warns, a little less perfunctorily. "We've got this covered and I need you to not lose your badge."

The call ends abruptly and he stares at the phone for a second. "Goddamnit." He sighs, putting the receiver in the cradle and standing up, fishing in his pocket for some money. "Thanks." He tosses money down on the bar, enough for the tab and generous tip for letting him use the phone before he walks out. The only thing he can do now is go home and wait for a fucking phone call.

______

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