#their straight peers are getting pregnant by accident

[thistlecatfics]

Breathless (Dorcas/Marlene, 400 words, M)

Undernegotiated Kink (!!!), Breath play, Panic, Thank goodness for Revivify, Canon Compliant, POV First Person, First Wizarding War, Intercrural, Choking, Canon Major Character Deaths

Day 8: Femslash Fuckery's breathplay + @febuwhump's Panic + @kinkuary's Intercrural + @hpshipuary's Female Character Dorcas Meadowes.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

For months, from cold January when Benjy died to thawing April when Caradoc fell, she begged me. Our sex had grown rougher, the bruises on her pale skin more likely to come from my hands, my belt or my switch than from any Death Eater.

Finally, violence we could control.

We did not negotiate the details beforehand. We hardly talked after. We just knew. She let me carry out my darkest fantasies, and she proved to herself she could survive anything, but this one thing she begged for, and I refused.

Still, death stalked us.

She barely survived a curse from a Death Eater, requiring a week of bed rest. I avoided a werewolf bite just a week later, taking claws across my back instead.

Together, in each gasp of pain, each moan of pleasure, each breathless cry, our time was infinite. Then, reality. New dead announced. The news St. Mungo’s was no longer safe for us. The growing sense, even amongst those young Gryffindors still clinging to their naivete, that we were going to lose.

After Cardoc died, I relented.

My fist tightened around her neck, squeezing tighter. So easy. I did not expect it to be so easy. Her eyes blinked softly shut, and I had never felt power like this before, a rush beyond any potion, any charm. She was mine, and I was a goddess, she my supplicant. I rode her, pushing my cunt against her thigh until I shuddered.

I released her before brushing her blonde hair away and kissing the top of the forehead of my most darling supplicant.

She slumped down.

Shouting, shouting, hitting her. Still she slumped. I shouted for help, muffled by the Imperturbable charm we placed, and no one came.

I screamed two Revivify’s, implemented in quick succession, as we had been taught by the Order medic.

She blinked awake.

Her voice hazy, she offered gratitude.

A week later, after the Death Eaters murdered her and her entire family, her words echoed in my head:

I wanted to feel death with you before they killed me.

I killed five of theirs with my wand and had my hands around the throat of the sixth while my mind considered how many I could kill before the ache of her loss eased enough to breathe. The number does not exist. Lord Voldemort himself took me. I did not need air without her.

[poorks]

Nine month pregnant Claire as my personal maid. She’s so huge, but so eager to please.

“Cook me eggs bacon and gimme orange juice!…oh, and make me not a virgin.”

Cue that huge ass dropping right on top me, knocking the wind out of me like I’ve been in a car accident. Big belly in my face as Claire ruins me for any other woman.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I say.

She peers around her belly and smiles at me like one would a dog with a stick too big trying to get into a doorway. “Yup!” She says, before performing “The Manuver” and shattering my spine.

She'll make you breakfast and sit on your lap with the plate on her belly, arms draped over your shoulders while you eat your breakfast. She ignores your request for orange juice. "You're still growing!" she coos, and pulls a breast out from her uniform to pour you a glass of milk with your meal. Of course, you could also drink straight from the tap if you wanted.

She only wants to take care of you! And she knows what's best. <3

[cannotflyarc]

@heygutlcss's raefer mcclellan sent: zip, receiver needs sender's help to zip up the back of their dress.

she hates this dress. she hates the silly decorations in her hair. she hates her guardian's peering eyes and the way he can snap his fingers into her obliging into whatever he orders her to do, even if it's through a clenched jaw and tearing eyes. she hates that he's pretending everything is normal. everything has become far from it. while their classmates around them have sent out announcements to their relatives, collecting cash from their dear great-aunts or congratulations from distant cousins, johanna was marched down to the courthouse to be married to her boyfriend only because he got her pregnant.

today was supposed to be the day she got away. today, they were supposed to somehow find a different courthouse to get married at and live the rest of their lives together. yet, her guardian is still forcing them to the ceremony, pretending that his ward is still the straight-a, perfect student that she's always been. not the slut that's about to find herself with a baby in a few months from now. but for now, she's pulled her husband into her room the second she could and pleaded with him to fix the problem.

❝ i don't care how forceful you have to be, okay. just don't kill me on accident. ❞ sucking in her stomach, she's found, is much more difficult when there's actually someone inside of it. ❝ i don't know why he's making me wear this one. ❞ johanna knows why. even if her guardian won't see it, he likes knowing that he still has authority over her, despite the little rebellion she's found herself in. ❝ and don't you dare say anything about taking off the dress, raefer mcclellan. i know you were thinking it. that's not going to help right now. use your --- tools, if you have to. ❞ her voice lowers, ❝ i don't want him to yell at me again. ❞

[mythiccheroacademia]

—lunch box

A/N: just another cute idea i had because i’m obsessed with barbarian/dragon king!bakugo and fantasy shit in general. some context: you and bakugo are betrothed—although, sometimes you wish you weren’t bc he can be a real asshole. luckily for you, he’s willing to work on it bc he likes loves you just that much. a litte angst (it wouldn’t be a mtha story without it) but it ends in fluff <3

Warnings: cursing

Your friends looked at their food with heart eyes and dug into the neatly wrapped box with fever.

“Ahh! Thank you for making this, Y/N!” one of them exclaimed. The other could only nod in agreement, too into your cooking to speak.

You smiled and waved them off. “It was nothing. Consider it a thank you for letting me copy the homework last night,” you chuckled.

“Did you cook one for Prince Bakugo? I’d imagine he’d love it! If there’s anyone’s cooking he loves more than his own, it’s yours!”

At the mention of his name, your expression fell. You looked down at the case of food you had prepared for him as an apology.

Four days ago, you two were hanging around his residence. You managed to get him to dance around with you. Well, it more like you were dancing and he was doing his best not to combust in embarrassment. Katsuki warned you that you shouldn’t be too reckless otherwise you’d break something.

Of course, you paid him no mind, too enthralled with your fun to notice your proximity to a nearby statue—one of the Bakugo family’s treasures.

One thing led to another, and you knocked it over, shattering it before either of you could even react. Your rich skin lost its glow and your boyfriend cursed something nasty.

Least to say, his parents were not happy. But instead of being rightfully scolded, Bakugo had taken the blame for it.

They found him attempting to clean it up and assumed it was his fault. You wanted to correct them, but he threw you a nasty glare, sealing your mouth shut. He was now under punishment until they deemed fit and from then on, he hadn't spoken a friendly word to you.

A little sigh escaped your lips. Your two friends looked at each other before offering you encouraging smiles.

“Hey,” one spoke, placing a hand on your knee. You met her gaze. “You should go give it to him. He’d love it.”

There was a moment of silence before you decided to act. Taking the spur of confidence, you stood up and briskly made your way to the other classroom. Just before you entered, you heard his voice and felt your heart waver with anxiousness.

However, now wasn’t the time to let doubt consume you. Things wouldn’t get better until something was done.

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, before opening the door and walking in. Your eyes scanned the room and found the young dragon prince amongst his group of friends.

Jaw set, you walked over to them, hands firmly around the packaged food.

Kirishima saw you first and gave you a friendly wave.

“Hey Princess L/N!”

“Hi boys! How’re ya doing?” you politely asked, putting on your best smile.

They gave you an upbeat answer that lifted your spirits.

Despite that, you hadn't heard a response from Bakugo. In fact, he hadn't even looked at you—but you wouldn’t be disheartened. You fueled herself with faux confidence and held out the dish to your betrothed.

“I-I made you something small yesterday, as an apology,” you stuttered.

Katsuki finally looked up, indifference in his stare. Ruby eyes flickered down to the box filled with rice, chicken, vegetables, and a small pastry on the side. His favorite kind. For a moment, he seemed like considered your offer, but you suffered the low blow of humiliation when he turned away to look through the window.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten. Should’ve given it to me earlier.”

Something in your stomach fell. Crushing rejection blossomed up your throat with each passing second. His words were cold, harsh, and unforgiving. It might’ve been stupid, overdramatic even, but it hurt.

Heartbroken wasn’t even the word.

Your nose burned, eyes blurring before you could stop it. Your chest tightened with embarrassment. Luckily, you mustered enough strength to hold in whatever was threatening to crumble you.

“Oh,” you dumbly responded.

“I’ll take it!” Kaminari excitedly said.

“No, I will! I’m still starving!” Kirishima chided.

You placed the box down, struggling to keep up your act.

“Split it between the both of you. I hope it’s good!” You internally winced over how high your voice had become. “I’m gonna to get going now. I’ll see you guys after school, yeah?”

And before anything else was said, you bolted straight out of the room. You hadn’t bothered to look at Katsuki. Knowing him, he probably hadn't noticed the strain in your voice.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears flooded. You held your hands against your mouth, desperate to muffle your cries. You quickly took you into the nearest bathroom and you prayed no one had seen you lest there be questions. If you went to your friends, it’d cause a commotion. Your parents would eventually find out and you didn’t want any more problems.

So, you cried your eyes raw and eventually willed yourself to stop when it was time to return to class.

…

The week had gone by without another interaction. The weekend brought you some relief since you wouldn’t be forced to see Katsuki’s face for the time being. Or so you thought.

All you wanted to do was run some errands for your parents and then go back home and continue sulking. Yet the universe would not let you rest.

The moment you caught Bakugo’s eyes, you pivoted on your heel and booked it the other way. You assumed his anger with you would force him to keep his distance.

But you were thoroughly surprised to find he was following after you.

“Y/N,” he called.

Irritation and hurt filled your chest. You only walked faster, clutching the purse against her chest.

“Y/N, stop,” he demanded to which you promptly ignored.

This went on for a good thirty seconds until Bakugo decided he had enough. Without much noise, he ran up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder.

You weren’t having it.

You harshly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, keeping your eyes forward.

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you. So maybe some other time.”

Truthfully, the crowned prince found himself shocked at your coldness. Despite your innate boldness, he wasn’t used to such an icy tone. Especially directed at him.

His father warned him to never attack in these situations, but Bakugo let his temper get the best of him. His first reaction was to frown and deal back harsher words.

“What’s your fucking problem, dumbass? When I say stop, stop!”

A spike of anger flooded your veins. You whirled around on your heel and glared at him with frosty eyes. You felt compelled to drop your papers and slap him, but instead, you settled for a finger in his face.

“First of all, I’m not some dog you can just order around, you jerk! And just because we’re betrothed doesn’t mean I’m some girl you can treat like dirt whenever you feel like it! Until you apologize, leave me alone because my only problem right now is you. Bye.”

And just as quickly as you came, you turned to leave.

Now Bakugo was actually stunned. Forget, cold, this was a side of you he hadn't ever experienced. Admittedly, he hadn’t been spoken to like that from anyone besides his mother—and she only got away with it because she was not only the queen…but he was his mom.

Katsuki honestly didn’t know how to handle it. It was only then that he concentrated back on his father’s advice. Whenever his mother was upset with his dad, his father would fight back, but never with emotional anger. Always with humbleness and an understanding tongue.

It usually did the trick considering his mother could never stay upset with him for more than a night. It always struck the teen with hidden awe. Sometimes, Katsuki thought his dad was an angel.

Bakugo was no angel, but he hoped it’d have the same affect on you.

The blonde teen softened his face and walked up behind you. He stopped you, wrapping his arms around your waist to lie his forehead against the decorated braids the fell down your back.

“Damn it. I’m sorry okay?” he lowly said, face burning from such a public display of affection. “Just hear me out.”

You didn’t speak and he clenched his jaw.

“Please.”

You inwardly cursed your rapidly beating heart. If it weren’t for how stupidly nice being in his arms was (he was definitely working out more), and the fact that you found him kinda cute begging for your permission, maybe you wouldn’t have caved in so easily.

For now, you’d blame it on the fact that you two were destined to wed. It was better to start dealing with fights now so, hopefully, the future held less of them.

You heaved a sigh, unwillingly ignoring your body’s urge to curl in his arms. Instead, you pulled away and turned to face him. You peered into unsure crimson eyes with as much harshness you could conjure.

“Fine. Speak,” you permitted.

There was a small pause as he gathered his thoughts. When he opened his mouth, you instantly regretted it.

“I’m still mad at you for being dumb and breaking one of family’s treasures. And I’m still fucking pissed that my old hag is on my ass about it,” he started and noticed how your eyes narrowed in contempt.

You were about to turn away, thinking this was a waste of time. However, Bakugo took a hold of your wrist before you could leave.

“Leave me alone! If you didn’t want to get in trouble, you should’ve just let me take the blame. I can't believe I thought you’d apologize—“

“Let me finish, princess.”

It was your title, yet you felt your stomach flip when it came from his lips. You refused to let it influence you…but you’d give him another chance.

Bakugo stepped closer to you. “I’m upset, but I took the punishment because I wanted to. You didn’t mean to break it. Accidents happen, I understand that.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then, you softened your gaze a bit, eyes still lit with inquiry. “Why? Why would you do that if it meant getting in trouble? I could’ve taken the blame just fine.”

“Y/N, you freak the fuck out whenever you don’t get a perfect score on an exam. You try not to mess up and when you do, it’s like the world is ending,” he explained with a teasing smirk. You ungracefully snorted. He had a point. “When you broke the vase, I could hear your heart drop. You were two seconds away from crying. And when I saw how scared you looked I just—I don’t know.”

The look on your face was something between shock, surprise, and wonder. You blinked, thick lips parting slightly in awe.

“Katsuki…” you breathed to which the boy heavily blushed. Realizing how sappy he sounded, his mind screamed at him to cut it out.

Bakugo looked down and noticed he was still holding your wrist. He quickly let go and instinctively rubbed the nape of his neck.

“D-don’t be dramatic. I just didn’t wanna see you moping around or some shit. My father said that it wasn’t that important anyway…the vase I mean,” he mumbled.

Sure it wasn’t, you thought. What were you gonna do with this boy?

You supposed an apology was a good start.

“That was very nice and admirable of you Katsuki. Thank you,” you eventually said. “I’m still really sorry about the vase, and for being mean to you just now.”

He shook his head. “I know, but I’m the one that should be apologizing. I ain’t hafta treat you the way I did. I was being an ass for not accepting the food you made for me earlier.”

“Yeah you were, ya bastard.”

He chuckled at that. “The two idiots wouldn’t stop raving over how good it was.”

“Well, I had the best teacher in the kingdom,” you grinned.

“And I had an even better student,” he winked.

Your smile widened. Maybe marrying him wouldn’t be so bad.

You couldn’t help yourself when you heartily embraced him, enjoying how his arms slowly slithered around the small of your back. Your eyes met and you kissed him on the lips, leaving him with a little gasp. You pulled away and giggled under your breath.

“You know, you're a sweet guy underneath all that false bravado.”

“False brav—what the hell are you going on about!?”

Ignoring his explosive behavior, you readjusted the straps on your shoulder before turning on your heel.

“Don’t bring anything for lunch on Monday, okay? I’ll see you later, blondie.”

Despite his little tantrum, Bakugo still watched you disappear into the store with a gentle expression. You gave him more headaches than he cared for, but you were worth it. Besides, he was sure you could say the same for him.

Bakugo turned to leave and passed his fingertips over where your lips touched his own.

He’d never admit to the giddiness in his chest. He’d take that shit to the grave.

[inkandpen22]

Somewhere (7/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentiones of war 

Word Count: 1.1k

Part Summary: Lily and James are about to have a baby. When Y/N attends her first Order of the Phoenix meeting, things take a turn. 

A/N: sorry that this part is short. I promise the next one won’t be! I’m just trying to get back on schedule. X

Masterlist

April 1980...

The outside of the Potter’s home is covered in blue and pink decorations. A few of us have gathered to celebrate the news of a new addition to the family. Lily may have spilled the beans to me that it’s a boy, but I have to keep it a secret from Sirius. I can hardly wait to meet the little guy! Right, when Lily answers the door, she greets me with a hug and we shuffle inside. 

“Congratulations!” I greet the very pregnant woman.

 “Aw thank you!” She gushes right as her husband appears by her side. 

James and I embrace while Lily and Sirius have the chance to say ‘hello.’ 

“Glad you could make it!” James welcomes me before he turns to his best friend.

The two boys embrace as if they didn’t just see one another a few days ago. We’re always with Lily and James. Half the time we’re giving us trouble for not being engaged yet. I assure them it’ll happen eventually, I simply want to finish university. I pull Lily aside and she escorts me to the kitchen to chat. The two of us sit at the counter and she starts to pour me a glass of lemonade.

 “When are you due?!” I can hardly hold in my excitement. 

“July, we’re very excited!” She squeals. 

“We wanted to talk to you two,” James announces as he enters the kitchen with Sirius.

 “Oh no, what have you done now?!” I playfully wack Sirius on the chest as he stands behind my stool. 

“Nothing... from what I can recall,” he grumbles the last bit as he rubs his chest.

 “We were hoping you could do something for us...” Lily drags out, biting down on her lip. 

“Like what?” I switch my gaze between the couple and my boyfriend who appears equally as confused. 

James places his hands on Lily’s shoulders, standing behind her like Sirius is with me. It’s funny, we must mirror one another as couples. Granted, Sirius and I are like the darker version of Lily and James.

 “Lils and I want you two to be the godparents,” James blurts out. 

“Us?! Sirius and I gasp in unison. 

“Are you mad?” Sirius adds. 

“I can hardly take care of myself,” I point out. 

“I think I’d kill it by accident,” Sirius starts to worry. 

“He would,” I nod in agreement.

 “We completely trust you both and who knows us better than you two,” Lily clasps her hands together with a smile.

 “Literally anyone else,” I suggest. “I would’ve picked Remus.” Then, I turn to James, “no offense.” 

“None was taken,” he shrugs. “Lily wanted him too.”

“Was I straight across the board?” I inquire. If so, they’re crazy. 

“Yep, it was either you or Petunia,” James nods and I see Lily’s face falter at the mention of her sister.

 “Not Marlene?” Sirius questions. 

James and Lily give us knowing looks. Yeah, Marlene wouldn’t be good either. 

“Right, fair enough,” I agree. 

“So?!” Lily pressures excitedly as she peers between the two of us. “Will you do it?” 

I glance up at my boyfriend who looks rather terrified by the offer. Yet, if James and Lily are sure, then I can’t deny them what they want.

 “If you think it’s best?” I hesitate to say. 

“Yes!” Lily and James voice in unison. 

“Yay...” Sirius mumbles unenthusiastically. 

I elbow him in the side and offer the exciting couple an assurance smile. We exchange embraces as we did when Sirius and I arrived. Goodness, the two of us godparents. With the war going on, the sense of responsibility is overwhelming. If something were to happen to Lily and James I... I don’t what we’d do. _________________________ Sirius was reluctant to have me attend any Order of the Phoenix meetings. He wants me to have nothing to do with the organization or the war in general. Yet, when a location for the meeting was needed, our apartment is the only place the Order has never met. Sirius wasn’t too keen on the idea of having everyone over but eventually came to the conclusion he had no choice. 

While the Order sits around the dining table discussing important points, I stay behind the kitchen counter and pretend to be busy. I’m preparing dinner for everyone while all I do the entire time is eavesdrop on the meeting.

 “There’s a crucial bit of information I’ve just learned,” Dumbledore announces and the apartment grows silent. "The prophecy speaks of a boy born at the end of July.” 

I peer up from the cutting board and direct my focus at the Headmaster like the others. Then, my attention flickers to Sirius who meets my gaze. Based on his narrowed stare, he doesn’t want me listening nor anywhere near the room. He can deal with it. 

"You need to go into hiding," Kingsley Shacklebolt tells the Potters and Longbottoms.

Murmurs erupt around the table. James and Lily frantically look at one another, the same for the Longbottoms. Sirius looks as though his eyes may pop out of his head.

 "What?!" James finally breaks the silence. 

"You can't be serious!" Frank adds in. 

"Y/N will be the secret keeper for the Potters,” Dumbledore declares. 

I swallow hard and drop the knife in my hand onto the counter accidentally. Sirius wasn’t supposed to find out this way. 

“What?!” My boyfriend flies up from his seat aggressively. “Now you’re a mad man! There’s no way Y/N is getting involved!” 

“She’s a muggle, they won’t suspect it,” McGonagall calmly interjects.

 “She could be killed!” Sirius barks at the elders of the group. 

“She’ll have protection,” Dumbledore tries to ease Siriu’s worries. 

“No!” Sirius declares.

“Sirius-” I softly voice.

 “No!” He points at me directly. “

I already agreed!” I shout at him.

His jaw drops, “you what?!” 

“If it’ll keep the Potters safe... I want to help,” I mutter timidly. 

Sirius hurries around the dining table into the kitchen. He grips my biceps eagerly. 

“You could be taken, murdered even!” He panics. 

I nod calmly, bringing my hand to his cheek. “It’ll all be okay. Dumbledore is right, they would never suspect me.” 

"I'm not risking you!" He cups my face. "Baby, you don't understand what they're capable of." 

"Sirius, it's James and Lily... it's the baby... you know they'd do the same for us," I reason with him gently. 

His jet black eyes pour into mine with a torn expression. They become more glassy with each passing second. I hate to do this, to betray Sirius's wishes, but I have to do this for my friends. I have to protect the people I care about.  _______________________

Masterlist

[brideofcthulhu10]

Here we are, I apologize for the delay you guys but I can guarantee you it is so worth the wait! A humongous shout out to my incredible co-author @imlostinsantacarla for writing this with me, I had an amazing time and this is arguably one of the best written posts I’ve done so far. SO without further ado, I give you

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [3/4]

CONTENT WARNING: Offensive Language, Blood, Child Birthing Process, Intense Environment! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Marko

The soft silver moonlight slithered through the cracks and crevices overhead in the hotel, illuminating your form in a tender glow. You laid casually atop the dusty old couch worn from years of perpetual abuse, staring up into the cave’s ceiling at the little slivers of sky you could see between them, fingers fondling the soft blanket wrapped around you. Nerves caused your heart to stutter as another set of cramps waded through your body, making you feel nauseated. However, you put on a valiant front, hardly batting an eyelash as your boyfriend Marko sat beside you, eyes fixated on your form in an adoring fashion, though there was worry mixed within his countenance, a deep groove carved between his brows. Granted when you had initially announced your pregnancy you could have gone about it differently, however you were met with a joyous response from your adoring vampire. Originally David had suggested they turn you whilst pregnant to prevent any foreseeable complications, but there arose a new set of issues. Your infant would be a hybrid of vampire and human, something none of you even knew was possible. The potential need for a live body could mean that turning yourself before the birth could kill him or her in the process. Even if the birth could result in your death, unfortunately, all you could do was patiently wait, as going to a hospital was surely out of the question. Nevertheless, patience was a virtue- one Marko had yet to achieve. 

The months of waiting grew heavier on him as time ticked by, whilst the haunting lack of knowledge grew more frustrating with any passing discomfort he witnessed. His inability to help you outside of a shoulder to cry on when your cramps became too unbearable to sleep through made him feel helpless, a sensation that not only was he unfamiliar with; it was one he absolutely loathed. The boys did their utmost best to be accommodating to the situation, and one certainly had to give them credit for the amount of effort they had gone through. Dwayne had gone to the library for a few books for yourself and Marko, including one or two children’s books for the baby. Paul had spent his free nights shoplifting for supplies you’d need. No one could dismantle and sneak out an entire crib like Paul could. The guy had created a craft in the endeavor. David, with the help of Dwayne, had scoped through the caves and old hotel rooms still salvageable and managed to reinforce one of the rooms closest to their own cave. You eagerly draped the walls in colorful fabrics, finding an old dresser for your child’s clothes with a surface now cluttered with stuffed animals. Toys were crammed into a wooden chest, a massive rug laid across the old wooden flooring to deter any stray splinters from harming you. Watching Paul and Marko stubbornly argue over the crib instructions was certainly the highlight of your pregnancy while David was barking at them to move out of the way when he came carrying in the glider chair in one arm and a mass of pillows in the other. Although, you had to draw the line once Marko had smacked Paul with a two by four. Surely, that was uncalled for. But according to Marko, not so! Best friend or not, no one said he had the building skills of a drunk monkey!

Tonight was the night that would mark round about the eighth month of your pregnancy, and, - if it were truly possible -, Marko nearly had a heart attack when your false contractions came into play a few weeks ago. This ignited a vigilant nature within him, motivating him to remain much closer to you than he had previously been, which resulted in a lot of checking up on every unusual sound that you made. It was impossible for it to be helped. Well, that's what he kept telling you anyway.  

"You know, I can skip out on the hunt tonight…" Marko trailed off, cool fare fingertips dancing along the soft flesh of your arms, creating goosebumps to rise in their wake. The contrast between body temperatures was ghastly and you shivered, more at the electric shock that raced through you whenever he touched you. 

"Babe, you skipped out on the hunt last night, and the night before, and even the night before that. Marko, you must be starving!" You sighed irately, tipping your head back in frustration before turning it in his direction. Ever since the news of your pregnancy, Marko's primal instincts to protect you and your child had grown in vast numbers. It was pleasant to begin with, almost endearing… Though, as months sped by it had grown a hindrance because the young man was hardly even caring for himself now, and he hardly ever left your side. Honest to God, it was smothering, leaving you almost agitated at the sight of him. He was aware of this, yet still could not resist the urge within him that called for him to aid you in whatever way he could. There was an ample amount of anxiety over future happenstances such as your water breaking, uncontrollable cramps, the ACTUAL birthing of the child! You were understanding of his concern, but there was only so much that could be done. After all, you wanted your baby just as badly as he did. But he couldn’t allow his health to decline due to his own worry, you needed him. And frankly, your sense of unease was bordering onto the bandwagon of fear when you saw Marko’s ribs sticking tightly against his translucent flesh, a plethora of dark circles sinking his blue eyes into his skull. He wasn’t eating, he hardly slept, and soon he wouldn’t be able to control his frenzies.

"I don't know, baby girl," Marko began hesitantly, his round eyes widening as they peered into your own thoughtfully. Worry had never been a good look on Marko, and now, you longed for the days where reading him had been more difficult. His anxiety was like a fungi, infecting your very aura at the same time. "I don't wanna leave in case something happens you know? I mean, yeah, I guess I'm kinda thirsty but that stuff can wai-" You interrupted him with your fingertips gently silencing his lips, your eyes having shut as you breathed deeply to calm your nerves. This boy was driving you nuts. 

"Marko, I know how worried you are. I am too. But babe, I can tell that it's getting harder for you to be around me because you haven't fed. I really don’t want to start smelling like a fillet mignon to you, and if you’ve been looking at me like some mouth watering steak, we run the risk of the baby becoming appealing as well, I know you don’t want to risk that." You quipped with a quirked brow, lips tucked up into a wry smile as you stared straight at him. Your case was a good one, there was no doubt about it. There could be a very good chance that Marko, albeit not on purpose, could harm you or the baby if he smelled the scent of blood or even heard a too hasty of a heartbeat. And if there were to be an accident such as that, Marko would be plagued by an immense amount of guilt for all eternity. “Besides, it’s only the seven and a half or eight month point right now. I’m not having the baby for at least six more weeks. Right now, I need you to be at your best. Please babe.”

"But-" Marko began to protest.

"She's right, Marko." David piped up lazily from across the room, his eyes never leaving the book that he had been reading. He turned the page briskly before continuing, "You need to feed. It's the basic terms of vampire-hood. If you don't, you die! Now, what good would that do anyone then?" He inquired sardonically, a trace of a smirk in the air. 

"Yeah, bud! David and Y/n are right! Just go on one feed with us." Paul grinned from ear to ear at his bestest pal in the whole world, despite the horrifying fact that said best friend had hit him in the head with a two by four. Excitement had been rushing through Paul's entire being during this whole process. He was going to be an uncle man, how could he not be excited?! It had been such a bummer since Star left with Laddie, it’d be cool having some new tiny mind he could influence. Not that he'd even get as far to really influence the child without getting a brisk smack to the back of the head by David before you and Marko could even lift your fingers. No, he would not be teaching your child about the world of “Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll” at five years old!

"I mean-" 

"With the way you're going, you're gonna be a shriveled prune." Dwayne muttered out of thin air as he slowly rolled past Marko and yourself on his skateboard. The hulking raven haired vampire came to a standstill  as he stepped slowly off of his board. Dwayne was also right. Marko wasn't looking his brightest. Feeding was a nightly routine for a vampire in order to ensure they took in the right nutrients their dead bodies could not produce for themselves. Especially since they weren't capable of absorbing those nutrients through human food any more. Marko had to feed, there was no whisking his way around it, no matter how many excuses he could come up with. 

The trio of boys stared at the curly haired blonde, your eyes also capturing his form. There was a stretch of intense silence that flooded through the hotel as Marko thought over his options, pushing a mesh of frizzed blonde hair away from his face. He didn't want to risk going out and a possible complication occurring with the baby or yourself. But he also didn't have a strong desire to cause a catastrophic accident whilst going into a frenzy when your heart rate started skyrocketing due to cramps or whatever. Already his mouth was watering profusely as he stared down at his worn hands beginning to wither from lack of nourishment, the consistent thudding of your heart and the delectable rush of your blood in your veins made it practically impossible for the man to focus for much longer. 

"Man, just go! I'll stay with her." Paul finally interjected, slightly irritated that his buddy was being such a pansy about the entire situation. "If anything happens I'll scream at the top of my lungs or something, man. I got this! Scouts honor!" Paul added sarcastically, flattening a palm over his heart as he raised his free one up by his head. The entire thing looked comical, it made the others laugh. 

"Yeah, sure, let me get the flowers early for the funeral," Dwayne muttered, settling himself on another dusty old couch with a soft sigh. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dick breath?" Paul roared, brows pulled together in anger, punching Dwayne’s shoulder.. 

“Can you even give scouts honor if you were never in it?” you asked with a laugh to your tone, raising a brow at the blonde trying to rapid punch the utterly indifferent vampire planted in place.

"Dwayne has a good point, Paul." David sneered at his comrade, blue eyes lit up like torches watching Dwayne yank Paul into a headlock on it’s way to a noogie. "You remember the last time we-" 

"Ow! Okay, I didn't know she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol! But she never drank any so I don't get why you guys keep bringing this shit up!" Paul muttered, managing to wiggle himself out of Dwayne’s iron grip. With stubborn stomps he huffed, flopping onto the edge of the fountain in the middle of the room, his chin resting on his hands. He stared at you and Marko for a moment before continuing. "Man, I swear I won't pull another stunt like that again! I can take care of her! Dwayne told me the gist of what she can and can't have. I can do this, buddy." it was practically the most pitiful thing you had ever seen, it even tugged a little at your heartstrings.

You looked to Marko for confirmation and from the twinkle in his eyes, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. 'Let's just let him do this so he can stop pouting like a brat.'

"Alright, alright!" Marko stated, gloved hands raising up in the air in defeat. "You can watch out for her, but if ANYTHING happens, man, you've gotta go and find me. No fucking around and no fucking weed either!" Marko was firm as he spoke, eyes boring seriously into Paul's. 

The sun broke out onto Paul's face, his pearly whites glinting from the fires scattered around the hotel. You could tell in that moment that Marko had made Paul's entire century. "Fuck yeah! Scouts honor, dude. Just like I said before!" the blonde rocker was practically bouncing in his seat like he needed a piss. He hardly looked like a badass biker vampire that went out murdering people left, right, and center every night. He looked more like a baby rabbit. 

“I fucking mean it man,” Marko firmly repeated. “No weed, no booze, no being a dumbass.” Although he was being firm there was a slight twitch to his mouth. Being stern with Paul was often impossible but you had to admit, Marko was doing a grand job without the two by four!

Paul threw his hands up in the air in such a rushing motion that you were surprised they hadn't flung out of their sockets. “God damn, trust me man. I’m not gonna let anything happen! You guys need to gimme more credit here, who’s the one that stole a fucking crib for you assholes?”

With a tenacious huff, you wedged your hands behind your back feeling that the full weight of your belly was determined to keep you jammed between cushions, but nevertheless, you managed to heave yourself up and off of the dusty old couch with an audible grunt. The four boys' heads turned to watch you, instinctively with brows furrowed. They thought they'd insisted that if you needed to be moved, they would help you rather than let you strain yourself any more than you had to. But you were impossibly stubborn! You had insisted on multiple occasions that it was necessary for you to move, even exercise to keep you and the baby healthy. None of them were willing to humor you but you’d found that tuning out their protests was the best course of action in most occasions. And by impulsive habit, Marko dove over to offer you assistance, though you only responded by swatting his hands away from you. You were fine!

“I’m fine Marko, don’t worry I can get up on my own. Anyway, Paul’s right,” you agreed, looking over at your friend who beamed with delight at your praise, arms crossed over his chest with a nodding head of total satisfaction as if you had just given a mighty speech. “He’s not gonna let anything happen. Besides, what could really go wrong in just a few hours?”

"Babe, don't say shit like that, you could jinx it!" Marko cried incredulously, eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

"Babe get a grip. There's no such thing as “jinxing” things." His worrying was really starting to bug you. And what did you do in turn? You did and said the exact opposite of him, a way to subconsciously counteract the apprehension that oozed out of him like a foul smell. Carefully you took his hands into yours and placed them on your taut belly. “See? Feel for yourself.”

For the past several months Marko had attested to being able to hear your unborn spawn within your stomach. Not necessarily thoughts, but emotions. Cluttered, wild, uncertain emotions that would come in jumbled waves. There was a weary contentment within you, sleeping soundly in a cradle of water kept safe within. Finally his muscles began to relax, tension beading out into limp arms as Marko pulled you in for a firm hug, holding you against him.

“You promise me.. If anything happens, you scream for me immediately. No toughing it out because you’re worried about me eating.” He mumbled sweetly into your hair, taking in a slow inhale of your heavenly scent. It was the one thing that could soothe his soul instantaneously, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Marko-”

“Please, Y/n.”

 His plea made your heart ache with slight agony. It was a desperate rasp, his arms almost trembling. There was a rush of relief filling him when you wrapped your own arms around him with a tender smile. “Okay. Alright, I promise, if anything happens I’ll call for you,” you hummed in tender response. For a moment you had to take a moment to pause, feeling a low and deep, sharp pain stretching from your abdomen to your back. Instead of making a fuss you tried to ease your breathing before Marko could notice. You weren't prepared to allow a few false contractions to get the better of you and stop him from getting his fill of the blood he so desperately needed at this point. And you also weren't going to play into any of Marko's anxieties either. You could do that when he returned from his hunt. Gently you lifted his chin. His cold lips felt cracked against your own, cementing how desperately he needed to feed. Even his kisses grew hungry, and you had to pull away from him before this grew into a horror show. “Go, you goof.”

It had taken some further convincing for him to leave, by the time he finally left with David and Dwayne it almost felt otherworldly in that cave. The lack of presence was almost spooky, though thankfully Paul was nice enough to loan you his walkman to curb the initial silence. Playing his Def Leppard tape you sat back into the couch, breathing through the occasional cramps that would continue to sneak up on you in a pulsing fashion. Hysteria was always your favorite album, as the dulcet tones of the rock ballad began to lull you into a half sleep state. But the continuous bombardment of contractions had begun to grow concerning. They weren’t slowing down, nor consistent in their spaces between as they should be. Cautiously you sat up, counting out the seconds between the first and the next. One minute, two minute, three… and again. For a full minute your muscles spasmed and ached, almost drawing an audible gasp from your mouth. Again you counted. One minute, two, th- no! Now it came again at a two minute interval. In a haste you peeled the headphones from your ears, grasping your stomach as you leaned forward suddenly. Your legs buckled, every time you tried to stand the pain just dragged you back down. “Fuck.. oh go- Paul!”

The blonde vampire was so lost in his own world he was nearly jolted out of his seat by your panicked cries. “What, what’s up you- JESUS!”

Without missing a beat, Paul slipped on the floor beneath his feet, barely having the reflexes to catch himself before his face could meet the ground with a harsh smack. The floor was soaked! Seriously, who spilled water everywhere? “Damn man, what happened here? Why is it all-” again, his words were paused, almost as if they'd been caught in his throat whilst he looked over your doubled over form clutching your profound belly. “Oh- oh shit! Oh fuck no way! Shit, holy fuck shit are you-?? Is it?!”

“Yes! ” You cried out incredulously, cutting off his panicked questioning in a hasty fashion. A sudden cry escaped your lips whilst you gasped in desperation, your spine going erect as you flattened your palms out behind you to stabilize yourself. "Oh god!"

"Oh shit man, I better get Mark-" Paul began, face having dropped to terror. 

"No! I swear to go- ow! Paul, if you even dare- I swear I will stake you myself! Ow!" 

“What, are you crazy?!” He demanded, jutting his arms in your direction. “You swore you’d call him, dude! This is big, man, he’ll kill me if anything happens to you! Oh fuck but he’ll kill me if I leave you alone- Fuck!” Paul swiftly kicked over one of the tables, running his hands through his mess of hair. The thing looked more like a lions' mane in all honesty. “Bed! We gotta get you to your bed, like now!”

"And how are we gonna do that, asshole?"

Paul's face soured immediately at your insult and with a swift motion, he swung you up into his arms bridal style, paying little mind to your plethora of protests. “Shut up already. I’m not doing this for my fuckin’ health! But you gotta be in bed! I may be a dumbass but I at least know that much!” He muttered, carefully tightening his grip as you attempted to wiggle out from it. He rapidly stepped over tunnels and rocks whilst he swung his way into the cavernous nursery where your bed was nestled into a corner, his calloused fingers on one hand releasing your legs as he pushed the black curtains that draped heavily over the frame. And with that, he placed you gingerly down on the bed, staring at you with a perplexed expression with a hint of something else. Was- no, that couldn't be embarrassment. 

"What're you staring at," you questioned, a nervous twinge to your voice. You rolled on your side to relieve some of the pulsating throbs that ran rampant through your muscles.”

"Uh- well- shit! I mean, we need to take off your pants, man. What if you start pushing and the baby suffocate or something?"

“I can’t even start pushing until I know how dilated I am,” your voice was quivering, clutching your stomach. “If I were to push too early it could kill us both.” 

"Oh fuck! Where's Marko when you need him?!" 

The dreaded predicament was growing increasingly deadly the more your body warned of its approaching birth, and soon you were left with a terrifying decision. Wiping away the thick layer of sweat misting your flushed cheeks, you managed to breathe out a hesitant response. “Paul.. You have to go get him.” 

"I’m sorry, WHAT?!" Paul’s voice echoed in the caves at a high pitched octave. “No! No freaking way, I am not leaving you here, you’re having a fucking baby! What if something happens to you? Fuck Marko being haunted, there’s no way I would be able to live with myself!” Paul ranted on, throwing his arms in the air whilst he paced around the sides of your bed in an antsy motion.

Sobs made your chest spasm uncontrollably, rolling over again onto your back. No position provided relief anymore, the contractions following still at an even two minutes each. “It could be hours before I’m actually ready to give birth! We have to know h-how far I am a-and the only way to do that…”

“...Yes? What way, c’mon maybe I can do that!” Paul stopped dead in his tracks to face you, serene as he had ever been in his entire life.

“You’d have to stick your fingers in me,” you groaned with imminent embarrassment, receiving an equal look of humiliation and horror from Paul’s pale face. He looked down, then at the cave’s entrance. Guilt plagued him, this kind of decision had never been put in front of him before.  He knew his options were slim, but he also knew where they hunted, if he could catch Marko’s scent outside he could easily find him. But again, he looked at you writhing in pure agony on top of your bed in tears. A knot tore at his own gut like someone was trying to rip them right out of him, his throat aching when he swallowed, a dryness had developed from nerves. “You sure you can handle it until I get back. You fucking swear you’ll be okay? Just for a few minutes.”

You could only nod in response as the pain was so debilitating it rendered you utterly speechless!

“Please, just go get him.” You managed to squeak out intensely. The expression of pain mixed with fear that captured your beautiful features truly did break his heart.

Paul sighed deeply in defeat, his fingers gently pushing your hair from your face. “Stay tough kiddo, I’ll be fast as fucking lightning.” You hadn’t even seen him leave, a huge gust of wind caused  the bed to shudder, leaving you utterly and completely alone.

 Kicking away your soggy jeans, you promptly pulled yourself to the top of the bed with your back pressed against the headboard. With every passing contraction you fought to breath evenly through it, fingers tightly clutching the sheets beneath you. “Fuck...god Paul hurry please!”

Paul flew as speedily as he could carry himself through the air, his nocturnal eyes aflame, rapidly scanning the ground for any sight of his buddies. The fresh scent of blood wafted through the cool night's air which coaxed him closer to the boardwalk, perhaps a mile or two north. The fucking sand dunes, of course! Sure enough, amongst a towering, crackling bonfire stacked high with the charred remains of surfboards that belonged to screaming Santa Carlites currently being devoured, there he spotted the trio of vampires tearing and ripping into the flesh and bones of unfortunate victims. Their blood spraying in odd directions, splattering across their clothes and hair. "Marko!” Paul yelled far louder than he needed to, panic evident on his countenance whilst he clumsily crash landed into the  wind whipped rouge sands below. The display caught the attention of his brothers immediately as they finished off their prey in a geyser of crimson fluids, leaving the ground stained.

Marko dropped the lifeless shriveled up human carcass he had been cradling savagely in his arms to the ground with little interest for it any longer. His previous frail lineament now long gone, replaced with a healthy  complexion. Although Marko felt he was back to his full capacity, he couldn't help the immediate apprehension and terror that sparked within his chest as it panged in his gut nauseously. "Paul?! Dude what the fuck are you doing here, where’s Y/N?? What's wrong?" He asked, panic straining his voice. 

"Dude! Fucking hurry up! I think Y/n's in labor, man!”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Marko demanded, grabbing Paul by his jacket. “You fucking left her?!”

“Marko, man, listen! One minute she was okay, the next she's screaming bloody murder and the fucking floors drenched!" Paul panted, doubled over as he'd flown here with all his might. "Before you ask, she's on her bed, okay? I took her there myself, even with her kicking and screaming. Dude I swear I didn’t just ditch! I swear, man I didn't wanna leave her but she said she needed someone to stick their fingers inside her or fucking whatever cuz if she pushes the baby will die, I dunno man but I'm not itching to do that ever!"

Marko said nothing, primal instincts kicking in full throttle as he sailed through the air and headed straight for the cave. His mind wandered to perilous details in furious cluttered thought, things that already created all the more apprehension to to twist in his gut, turning them round and round. His thoughts immediately went to the fact that you were alone in the hotel, in the purest of all agonies, having to go at this on your lonesome. The closer he sailed over the coastline the more he could hear. Your voice was just in the distance carried on the winds in gut wrenching cries that tore him apart. His next thoughts dwindled on your safety as well as the babies. He was very aware that there was no doctor involved in the mix, which meant no hospital and certainly no pain killers. He was terrified as his mind blasted through the worst of the worst. Didn't women used to die of childbirth back in the day? Was there a possibility that you could die? 

Marko hadn't even noticed that the others boys had been hot on his heels, prepared to offer aid wherever they could.

 "Marko, man! Slow down!" David called, struggling to keep up with the pace in which his pal was flying. The little bugger had gotten a head start, fueled by his pessimistic contemplation. But Marko didn't halt or slow down for that matter. There was no time for any of that! He had to get to the hotel and into your room as swiftly as possible, he wouldn’t dare slow down! What the hell was David even talking about anyway? Slow down?! Slowing down would do nothing but increase the chances of something else going wrong. He knew that the moment you'd spoken the words of, "what could go wrong in a couple of hours", that you had completely and utterly jinxed the entire night! 

His body dove and swerved through the hotel passing caves and holes, nearly crashing as he sped to a desperate stop inside the nursery. Your screams were crystal clear, as though they were right there, yet the sound rattled his ribs until he thought he would pass out. Still hidden away behind pitch black curtains, he could almost see your pitiful form writhing in limitlessly excruciating anguish. Rapidly his steps carried him to your bedside where you were still smothered in fresh blood, wrenching away the curtains. The sight was a visage of carnage torn straight from hell itself! Yet you only saw your dearest prince, and it was truly a sight for sore eyes left distorted by cruel tears. His coarse hand clutched yours immediately, providing the first rare moment of sanctity you had felt. The sudden motion and contact from him startled you tremendously, causing you to shriek when another contraction sent you into a panic. "Hey, it's me, baby girl. It's just me." He cooed comforting down at you, his free hand smoothing your damp hair from your sweat slick face. He probably looked like hell, still covered head to toe in his latest victims blood. That probably wasn't the most hygienic state for him to be in during the birthing of his child. But he had to work with what he had. There wasn't exactly running fresh water in the hotel anyway. It was almost unbearable for him to watch you, the color drained from your cheeks, grasping his hand until he swore he heard bones begin to crack.

“Marko.. I-I can’t push yet.. I d-don’t know how far I am,” You choked out, pressing the back of your head into the mattress when pulsating rivers of agony wove through you in cruel waves. The pain was now a disarray of spontaneous choreography, a violent tempo swelling and spreading throughout your entire body, leaving your brain foggy and black spots waltzing at the corners of your vision.

Before Marko was able to utter a word, the three boys bounded into the room, breathless and covered in a film of dampness, no doubt most likely from the crashing waves of the sea that battered along the cliffs' edge. The intrusion was noisy and agitating, leading to Marko's eyes becoming beacons of flourishing orange and his head whipped towards the guys. "Will you guys get lost? I'm not about to have you guys stand there like the Triplets of Fucking Bullshit while I try to figure out how dilated Y/n is!" he practically roared, the cave was shuddering for a moment as specs of dust flitted sporadically to the ground.

“Marko, baby, please calm down," you begged him, placing a hand on his forearm. The sight of him still smeared in blood was one thing, but such rage even at his brothers almost frightened you, his head practically whipping around to face you with fangs bared and piercing white hot eyes tearing into your own. It felt like he had stared straight through into your soul which was certainly not what you needed currently. The petrified expression left plastered across your palored cheeks made Marko feel incredibly remorseful, running his fingers through his hair. He was running on little sleep and barely had enough to satiate his lingering appetite, leaving him still quite exhausted.

"It's fine. We'll clear out. C'mon boys." David stated, Dwayne having already left. He stared pointedly at Paul though, who was staring at you in fright. He felt as though he should be there, however, with David staring at him so intently, he glanced over your way. You could only give him a weakened smile, your gaze assuring him you were safe now. Paul hung his head low and squeezed past the spiked blonde boy briskly. And David followed suit, not sparing another glance your way. It seemed cold but truthfully, David wasn't entirely sure what to make of the situation. Heightened emotions made him uncomfortable. David was better away from this specific spotlight, and currently his friend was in a frenzy he wasn’t willing to have escalated in such a delicate moment. He'd deal with the aftermath once the storm had passed. Marko could deal with the storm singlehandedly if that's what he so desperately desired. I mean, David hadn't knocked you up, so why get his feathers ruffled when he wasn't wanted there anyway?

“You… owe th-them an... a-apology,” you managed to pant out, wearily smacking his arm when a moment of relief between contractions allowed your voice to return. 

Marko huffed, shimmying off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair as he climbed on top of the bed with you, shutting the curtains. “I’ll make it up to them later babe, now’s not the fucking time.” Marko grumbled indignantly, his vampiric features morphing back to his human ones.

It was incredibly important for Marko to ensure that you were dilated 10 centimeters. This was not just for the babies sake but also for your own. If you pushed too soon it could prove fatal for you and your child. There was an instinct in you that told you to push, though Marko insisted adamantly that you hold off on pushing for the meantime. Stress riddled Marko to the core as he knelt down in front of you on the bed, his fingers comfortingly stroking your inner thighs prior to pulling back and nearing your entrance. To begin with he slipped in a finger, pushing softly as the books had told him until he reached the surface of the cervix which if he hadn't been reading the books that Dwayne had given him, he would have thought it didn't exist. Instead, he was met with a rubbery balloon-like texture which he knew was the bag of waters that held your baby. He slowly retracted his finger and added a few more, until he was certain that you were way past the 5cm mark. "Ow! B-babe! Tbh-that hurts!" You complained loudly, back arching off the mattress as you flinched, brows knitted together in contorted pain. 

"Really?" Marko snapped, eyes meeting yours whilst his fingers froze within you. "You've had much worse in there and a few fingers hurt? Sheesh!" He stated slowly, his expression flattening momentarily. And suddenly, as if by magic, the tension that had been suffocating the pair of you lifted somewhat, causing the pair of you to chortle for a moment before you winced, a grimace clouding your expression. 

"Shut up you complete asshole, h-how about I sh-shove a watermelon up you butt, s-s-see how you like it,” you breathlessly laugh, leaning your head back against your pillow. “So, c-can I p-push now, or not?" 

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain that you're 10 centimeters now, babe."

Some form of twisted relief washed over your soul in that moment as you let the instinct to push was over you. There was a slow, long drag pulling through your back. It was like a tiger had dug it’s hooked claws into you and was pulling them down through your flesh.  The endeavor was tiring, grueling in fact, leaving you dizzy and exhausted. But yet there was a set determination that took over you whilst you pushed desperately. Your toes tightly curled in place, grunts and panting replaced by blood curdling screams that sent chills down any who heard it. Tears made it impossible to see, the salty concoction of tears and sweat staining your face. Everything burned, you were fearful you may pass out. Though as soon as you pushed you found yourself holding your breath, to which Marko had to coach you through how  to breathe. A deep breathe in and another deep breathe out. In through the nose out through the mouth. Well, more like, in through the mouth and back out again. He also had to remind you when to rest,especially when he took note of exhaustion blanketing across you. 

“Marko- I can’t! No, no! Fuck I can’t it hurts so fucking bad,” you cried out until your throat was raw, having to be snatched by him before you launched up, pinned precisely in place by his steel grip. “No, god, I can’t do this! Please, I-I can’t I can’t it h-hurts!” 

"Come on, baby girl you can’t stop now! You have to hold still, it’s gonna be okay, you've got this." Marko encouraged ceaselessly, offering his pale hand to you to hold. Using his other he cemented you in place, knowing one wrong move could kill the baby. Your strength caught him by surprise when you snatched his hand tightly, grateful he couldn’t feel the crushing grasp of your fingers as his dead bones began to crack. Fortunately for him, years of rigor mortis and rot had decayed most of his nervous system by now. He held your head back on his chest, continuing to coax you with tender words. “Almost there baby, almost I know it hurts, I know, I’m so sorry baby." He whispered softly into your ear, his cool breath fanning across your hot flushed skin. You swallowed thickly, almost as though you were in a trance as you continued your strained pushes. A pinkish liquid spilled out and onto the sheets in a cruel, seeping motion. Marko noted it’s scent carried a heavy copper tone and glanced down as the pale salmon tint deepened into a dark crimson hue. Your screams had nearly numbed his ears by now, although it was not a sound he desired to grow accustomed to. 

Marko softly unwound his arms around you, though he kept his left hand in your ironclad grip. He needed to ensure that blood was the baby’s head crowning and not some horrendous miscarriage. He wouldn’t dare mention the alternative to his mate mid-birth, pushing away the blankets covering your legs and to his amazement there was your baby's head crowning momentarily before slipping back inside. From what he'd read, this was a completely normal process, your pushing, in conjunction with your contractions would continue to shift the baby down the birthing canal and out of you. Your heels dug into the mattress with your back arching upward as your mouth was aghast in treacherous suffering, a hideous cry drawing tears from your eyes. The room began to sway, the pace of your heart was that of wild horses unleashed on an open plain. Heat grasped you from every angle, it was getting harder to breathe the more you fought through it. Fear grabbed hold of your lungs, squeezing violently, picking up your heart rate until Marko could hear it thundering beneath your rib cage like a frightened animal wanting to be let loose of its cage. Your rapid labored breaths carried a concerning pace that had him beside you once again.

“Marko.. T-the room..,” you tried to whimper out between screams, head swaying to the side staring at the pitch black curtains that somehow seemed to be seeping into your surroundings. You could feel the drag pulling down your back into your birth canal, you were so close but the sheer exhaustion tempted you to faint at any moment. “I..I can’t..” you gasped out under your breath so quiet he almost thought he'd imagined the words.

"Just one more push, babe," Marko pleaded, brushing his hand over your damp forehead. In a sweet, yet ardent motion your hair was pushed back from your face. You clung to his hand, pressing your forehead against his frigid palm savoring the relieving rush of cold. The sight of his wide eyes connecting with yours forced a momentary breath of air, those perfect blue pools gave you something to focus on. The blackness was scattered, a last scream forcing it's way out of your throat as you gave one final push, the dragging motion within you halting. Light faded in and out of your vision, rapid black splotches flickering around the room, the pain becoming dull and pulsating. You hardly even noticed the muffled, shrill cries emitting from your newborn, or the fact that Marko had already had her wrapped in a towel once he'd cut the umbilical cord. Your chest shuddered when you breathed, the small pink infant squirming beneath white fabric making whimpering grunts. Small fingers stretched out, clutching at Marko’s shirt.

“Marko.. Wh-what are they,” you groaned our, flickering lashes barely keeping you conscious.

Marko hesitated to glance between misted eyes, choking out a stunned laugh. “A girl…”

The blood stained her red skin, and before he could wipe away the sticky red substance off her fingers she suckled at the red liquid, eyes bright white just as his were when his fangs were bared. She had yet to form her own, and when there was none left on her hand they had faded back into little grey, uncolored orbs. The lack of food had become noticable, and she let out a fussy whine, kicking her feet against the blanket in a fit. So that's what she needed to feed on. Marko gently bounced her in his arms, nuzzling his forehead against hers until her tantrum was subdued. “Shhh shhh, it’s okay baby girl.. Plenty of time for that later... Daddy will bring you a big ol bag of blood when mommy feels better, I promise.”  

You blinked away tears as she was delicately passed into your arms, weighing no more than eight or nine pounds just as weary as you were. “Wilhelmina...,” you choked out, brushing your fingers across her plump cheek.

“Billie huh?” Marko asked, laying on his side beside you with his bent arm elevating his head, his fingers reached out to brush against the blonde dusting of hair on the head of his daughter, a grin plastered on his face, an exhausted twinkle dancing in his eyes. "I like that... Wilhelmina it is.."

He now felt like finally, in these eight months of your pregnancy, that he could catch some shut eye. Time had become distorted, he had no idea whether it was daytime or night time any more, the two may as well have been blurred together. In your safe haven of thick black flowing curtains, Marko placed Billie delicately into your heavy arms, slumber already having wrapped you tightly in its deep and vast embrace. He curled his fingers around the dark fabric, pulling it skeptically out of the way. The room was swallowed in darkness, however, his nocturnal eyes easily scoped out the shut door at the other end of the room. He thought for a minute, capturing his bottom lip in between his teeth. He chewed on it for a moment before pulling himself up and off the bed. Truthfully now that his territorial rage had fizzled out he knew he owed the guys for how much of an ass he'd been when confronted with your unexpected labor. 

With tentative steps, so as not to disturb you, Marko flitted towards the shut door, no light seeping underneath the crack of the door. He twisted the knob carefully, a low squeak creeping into the air as he opened the door. He stepped out into the passageway leading to the main cave and began a somewhat hurried stroll. Honestly he was ecstatic to tell the boys. To show them his daughter was something he was practically bouncing on the spot for he couldn't wait! 

Marko, briefly unaware with his contemplation cluttering his mind, did not fully register the danger as he stepped forward into a stream of sunlight just up ahead cutting clearly through the decrepit roof of the hotel. It wasn't until the searing sizzle of his flesh did he register that he was caught aflame from the sun's rays. With a shriek he recoiled, battering at exposed flesh to kill the flames. He smoldered for a moment, back pressed to the wall as he peered into the vacant lobby of the ancient hotel. He sighed, shaking his head in dismay. "Dammit! Well... I guess they'll just have to meet Billie tonight then," he concluded with finality, not giving it much thought before he turned and made his way back to your room with heavy eyelids, finally content. As he padded softly into the room, shutting the door behind him, Marko couldn't help but feel relief wash over him. It was an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders now that he'd be able to go out to feed without fearing something could happen to you. That was more than enough to cure him of any and all anxiety that had previously immobilized him.

As he settled himself underneath the covers, he brought you closer, baby Billie placed tenderly between you both and he grinned half halfheartedly, a dopey, wide grin that pulled on his heavy eyelids. "I'm kinda glad you jinxed it, babe." he breathed into the air before he allowed the weight of sleep to shut his eyes and encapsulate him in its lulling motion.

[sp00kworm]

Butterfly

Pairing: Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull x Female Reader

Warnings: Slasher horror and gore

A/N: This fic is blocked from the tags but please enjoy! Reblogs are always appreciated. Gif is by me.

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His home was lonely. Jesse looked at the clock, his eyes burning with the need to sleep, but his mind racing. It was late. Approaching eleven o’clock. He’d had to work today. His company didn’t run itself, and there was a lot of accounting and management to do outside of his little hobby. Jesse looked away from the clock and stretched his jaw, the bone clicking from where he was cracked around the face with the bat. The bone had healed rather easily, but it hurt from time to time. His face, that was mauled. He wasn’t the stud he used to be. Handsome, a straight jaw and high cheekbones. Cynically, he snorted at the picture on the mantle he had of him and his late wife. Mrs Cromeans clutched at his arm at some high-class party, her red lips spread in a smile to match Jesse’s smirk. The second was him kissing at her cheek as she pushed him away. Sentimental. He was feeling sentimental. He didn’t hate his wife. She was convenient. A life outside of his hobby. Pretty. He didn’t even know she was pregnant. The police informant he had revealed the death report tentatively to him. The unborn child inside her wasn’t old enough to be saved. An accident he never expected to occur. He’d been gone nearly 4 months, and she was pregnant. He didn’t remember a message, but then he tended to let Spann handle such things. He probably ignored it. Jesse stood from his black leather couch and walked to the mantle.

He took the picture in his hand. His face was partially cut off, the camera focused on his wife and her smile. Jesse looked at it before he leaned over and threw it on the fire. The glass shattered with the force of hitting the logs and the frame quickly burst into flames, black paint peeling off the wood as it crackled and snapped. The photos disappeared into curling pieces of charcoal and he watched the frame burn with a certain amount of upset. Sentiment, he reminded himself, as he pushed himself away from the mantlepiece and touched the tattoo on his chest. The shaded skull stared back at him with hollow eyes. It was a reminder of the urges he had. With a sigh, he touched at his arms and traced the patterns of screaming, swirling ghouls all the way down to his wrist before daring to stand up a little bit straighter. He reached for the laptop of his coffee table and opened a chat window with Spann. It took a moment for the secure connection to open properly.

 Spann’s face appeared in the bottom corner, her tired eyes looking at him through the camera. She was still sat in the office, but she gave him a smile, “What can I do for you, Sir?” She asked as she shuffled the paperwork away.

Jesse made sure his face was out of frame, ‘Make sure there is a clean-up crew on standby.’

Spann peered at the text, “Of course, Sir. Where are you heading out to?” She asked curiously as her fingers whipped across the keyboard lightning fast, “You’ve been in Hollywood for a while now, have you finally taken a fancy to someone? You’ve not been as active as you once were.” She smiled, sickly sweet and twisted, just like she always did.

‘Just have the crew ready. I will text if I find something.’

“Of course. Have fun, Sir.” Spann nodded and he closed the chat window before disconnecting from all the rerouting services and opening the internet to have a look for a bar that suited his fancy. Something exclusive so he didn’t have to sit and be gawked at by people that could well lose their eyes. His good eye roved the names of bars before he spotted a club. He recognised the name. A mob boss run thing, he was sure, but it would mean he didn’t get stared at with a knife on his hip underneath his jacket. Perfect. Jesse snapped his laptop closed and headed upstairs for a shower and to get appropriately dressed up.

 The hot water eased his sore back, but it hurt on the sensitive skin of his face. He covered his face with a hand to his forehead as he washed the smell and aches from himself. The soap was sensitive, and he carefully washed his face, making sure to get around his eyes, to avoid any form of gunky infections. Those had been hell when he was laid in the hospital bed recovering. Still, a great deal of more work on his face this past year had made him far more recognisable, but it wasn’t the same. He was still scarred and twisted, his nose looking rather out of place. He ran a finger over the rougher skin, where the scaring was worst, tracing back over his forehead from his eyebrow. They had managed to graft new muscle and replace areas that were damaged. He felt more human now, but nothing would ever replace how he used to appear. Still, Jesse had paid good money for his better face, and he would be damned if he didn’t use it a little. He turned off the shower and dripped in the wet room for a moment before he wrapped a towel around his waist and pulled his razor out to sheer the hair from his head. It was therapeutic. Jesse leaned over the water to catch the hair on the back of his head before he held his jaw and angled the mirror to check his face. Nothing grew anymore, but that didn’t stop him checking.

 He turned the mirror to his face and stroked the newly constructed nose. It had been four months of healing this time around. Plastic surgery galore. He’d had mountains of work since his run in with Princess’ little friend. He almost resembled a person. Still, he was scarred, and his eyebrows no longer grew hair along with his jaw. He was still blind in one eye, the brown eye cloudy. Jesse plucked his eyepatch from the shelf and replaced it before brushing his perfect teeth. He had paid too much money for most of himself to neglect it. He towelled himself off and walked from the bathroom to his room, stark naked, stretching his back before he plucked out his designer black shirt, trousers, and jacket. Once he was dressed, he pulled on his oxfords and pulled his case from underneath the floorboards. Jesse undid the latches and peered inside. The chrome skull stared back at him, along with the polished knives he used to remove pieces of his victims. The box of gloves sat nestled in the top corner but he didn’t put any on for the time being, letting his tattooed hands breathe. He pushed his fists together and looked at the two words. The words ‘FEAR’ and ‘PAIN’ looked back at him. With a final adjustment of his cufflinks, he took his wallet from the nightstand and left his house, activating the alarm and locking the door before he opened his Chrysler 300 and slid into the roomy interior. The engine roared to life before he pulled away from the drive. Jesse rolled down the tinted window before he pushed his middle finger out of it, flagging the neighbours who glared at him from their windows.

 The bar was half of a club with the back for exclusive clients, which ranged from those involved in mob work, to celebrities. Jesse tugged at the breast of his jacket as he let the eager doorman take his car around the back. He stopped him with a finger in the air and he unlocked his phone and typed into the speech app.

‘Open the trunk or my glovebox and I’ll have your fingers, bellboy.’

“Yes, Sir.” He swallowed as he climbed into the Chrysler, pulling it away smoothly into the back of the club. Jesse looked around, his silver mask shining in the gaudy lighting. The mob knew him. He was the one who moved the weapons through his shelter companies. He took care of some of their business, butchering people like pigs for them when they took his fancy, and in, exchange, they let him have his pick of their girls for his games. He stepped through the door and a bouncer waved at him from the curtain separating the areas. The bar went around both sides, but no one could see through the curtains. Jesse walked through the bar, passing a group of women in lingerie as the bouncer let him through the other side.

“Good to see you again.” He grunted, looking up at the man as he drew out his phone.

‘Did you miss me?’ Jesse snarked through the automatic voice.

“You’re hardly any trouble.” He tipped his head towards a booth, “Make yourself at home.”

Jesse walked past him and headed for his table, pulling the curtains back before he placed his briefcase down and slid inside, sighing with the low lighting. He relaxed back against the cushions and reached for the mask over his face. With a hum, he pushed his thumbs into the mild adhesive and plucked the piece of chrome free with a twist underneath his chin in order to apply a new layer.

 It was quiet at this side of the bar, the curtains blocking out a lot of the noise and the people that he didn’t want to look at. Exclusive. Jesse ran his fingers over the leather of the couch and hummed at the quality before he tucked his case beside him. The knife strapped beneath his jacket wasn’t going to cause any problems here. Jesse pulled the case around and listened as the curtains rustled beside him. He was used to this. The silver skull turned to face the red fabric and Jesse lounged back on his seat as it parted to reveal the curious face of the bartender. He smiled behind his mask at the professional wear, a shirt and bowtie on. His eyes roved lower behind the black material over his eyes, looking at the short skirt attached. Perfect. He greedily took in the sight, laid back against the cushioning, and slid his phone from his pocket.

 You nervously parted the curtains of the exclusive booth and poked your head inside. Great, you thought as you slid the notebook from your pocket, holding your pen in your hand as you tried not to stare at the silver mask leering ominously back at you. His head dipped to look at your legs, admiring the view.

“What can I get you, Sir.” You asked, pen poised to write on the paper, “Any food or are you just drinking?”

The man in the mask didn’t respond, but his fingers whizzed across the keyboard of the phone, typing out something across the screen. He turned the screen to show you the words, ‘Drink. A bottle of bourbon. The one at six hundred.’

“Okay. Do you want a glass and ice?” You asked carefully, watching as he tilted his masked face.

His fingers clicked rapidly across the keyboard again, ‘Two ice cubes. Crystal tumbler.’

You had his sort before, “Of course, Sir.” You ducked back out and replaced the curtains before you headed back towards the bar to grab the expensive, six-hundred-dollar bottle of bourbon whiskey.

 Jesse watched you through a small parting in the curtain, eyes following your backside as you returned to your colleague at the bar. He made sure to drop the curtain back into place as you turned from the bar and headed back towards him.

 “Your drink, and your glass.” You placed the bottle and the tumbler down in front of the chrome-faced man and watched his tattooed fingers twitch against the leather as he leaned over to inspect what you had brought him.

Lazily, he took hold of the bottle neck, and peered at the label before he nodded and typed rapidly on the phone again, ‘Thanks. Run along, Piggy.’

You nodded and left his booth alone, catching a glimpse of tattooed hands pouring a drink as the red curtain closed behind you.

“Rude asshole.” You muttered under your breath as you headed back towards the bar, where you were needed on the other side, with the normal clientele of the bar. They were perhaps worse than the questionable celebrities and mobsters of the exclusive side, but you could cope with serving the sex workers and incredibly drunk men.

 Joe gave you a look of concern as you came back through the curtain. He was an old man and had worked at the bar since he was young. He knew the sorts that tended to frequent the establishment. He leaned over towards you as you threw some glasses in the box for cleaning.

“Don’t fuck with that one.” He whispered, “The Boss doesn’t like him here, but he puts up with it. Rumour is he’s a bit of a knife for hire. Tends to get those jobs that required someone gutting for a video.” Joe scowled and rubbed at his moustache, “Stay far away and keep him happy with drinks.”

“Thanks, Joe.” You uttered before you served a beer, “What’s with the mask?”

Joe shook his head, “Best not to ask.” He then left you alone as you pulled pints of beer for a group. It wasn’t long before you swapped again into the back, smiling as you peered at the booths. You frowned as the curtain to the stranger’s flickered and he waved his hand before he curled his finger towards himself and pushed the phone through.

“Come here.” The automated voice called ominously, and you took a deep breath before you opened the bar door and headed towards the booth again, your notepad in hand. You parted the curtain and smiled at the mysterious man.

 What you saw shocked you a little. He’d taken the mask off, revealing his scarred face to you. You tried not to stare, you really did. Awkwardly, you maintained the smile as he stared up at you, brown eyes dark as though he was daring you to say a word. One was covered with an eyepatch.

The phone clicked away before the screen was presented, ‘Entertain me.’ The voice was absent this time.

You read the words and frowned, “I can offer you a food menu or a different drink, Sir.” You replied quietly, dreading the next words that were going to come out of his mouth, “Unfortunately we don’t have any live music…and other options are not in my job description.”

Tattooed fingers curled against the leather before he grinned, exposing, bright, white teeth in a vicious smile. His chest jumped before he gave out a breathy, long chuckle. He curled his finger again for you to properly step into the booth.

He typed on the phone again before holding it up for you to see, ‘I don’t want you to suck my cock. Sit. Talk.’

Suddenly, you felt a little bit stupid, “Talk? What about?” You were still suspicious of the man.

‘Your boss. He owes me something. I want to know more.’ He turned the phone back to himself and typed again, ‘Ever mention ChromeSkull?’

 Suddenly, you realised who he was. The personalised plates out the back of the bar, and the chromed mask in his lap. This was a dangerous man. Still, he was very capable of ending you now, with no one there to see.

“He doesn’t talk about business in the bar.” You swallowed nervously, “He only said he hoped he never saw your face in here again.” Your gut dropped as you realised either way, you might die.

‘Thanks, sweet thing.’ He typed and showed you before continuing, ‘Call me Jesse.’ You watched his face smile again and suddenly you realised that once he was very handsome. It looked like acid or chemical burn scarring. The mob liked to disfigure people as pay back sometimes, but you had an inkling his weren’t inflicted by the mafia.

‘What’s your name?’ He pushed the screen before your eyes as his fingers danced over the leather.

You cleared your throat and told him, “So are you here for payback?”

‘Something like that.’ He replied on screen, ‘Better company this time.’

Flattering but you still wanted out of the conversation. There wasn’t an opportunity to, however, because as you stood up to straighten yourself out, your boss walked into the booth.

 Judgemental eyes roved you up and down, spotting you playing with your skirt. Jesse was quick to turn and replaced his mask, before your boss could see, the medical adhesive painted along the seams and the area of his nose. He turned back to look at Antony, the owner, with the haunting black eyes of the chrome skull mask peering through him.

“Making yourself at home with my staff?” Antony shot as he pulled a cigarette from between his lips, his face twisted with a glare, “Pretty sure you’re not welcome here anymore.” He dragged a hand through his slicked back, brown hair and snarled viciously before he returned the cigarette to his lips for another nervous drag.

Jesse’s mask tilted before he pointed a finger through the curtains and let the automated voice speak for him, “Justin had no issue letting me in, Antony.” He continued, “Plus, you owe me.”

“If this is about that fucking weapons crate again. I swear to God I didn’t know it was rigged to blow.” He dragged on his cigarette again.

“You lost me a factory, Antony.” The automatic voice droned hauntingly, “And I still haven’t had the compensation.”

“You’ll get your money, shit face.” Antony’s hand twitched for his jacket.

 You panicked as Antony took a seat across from Jesse, his fingers steepled under his chin. It was tense, and you began to panic as Jesse loomed over in the man’s personal space. He was a giant, solid wall of power, and you instinctively took a step back.

Antony clicked at you, “Drinks. Pour them. One for our guest here too.” You nodded and dashed for another glass for Antony before shakily taking the bottle in your hand and pouring both of them shots.

Jesse ignored the drink as he took his silver briefcase and slammed it on top of the table. The wood shuddered under the force of the blow and you jumped as he snapped open the clips.

“Put your fucking knives away, Cromeans.” Antony scoffed.

Jesse slid his first, sharp hunting knife free from his hip and you swallowed as he took a camera from the case. The device had a stand that clipped to his shoulder and he snapped the little tripod on before tapping the top. A red light blinked on. Recording.

“Oh, so you’ve come for something to play with?” Antony laughed, “There’s a toy stood right next to you. Be my fucking guest!” He exclaimed.

 You gave a squeak as Jesse’s large hands grappled you by the waist, dragging you into his lap, your legs pinned between his own as he breathed down your neck. He trapped you as he reached for the box of black nitriles in his case. Methodically, he peeled one free at a time and tugged them over the black tattoos covering his hands. The black nitrile traced the edge of one knife before he span it once, twice, and then placed the edge of the blade against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat at the cold press of metal against your soft skin. His other hand trailed over the skin, his hot breath tickling your ear before he swiped the knife up and dragged the sharp side through your hair. You listened to him inhale before, tauntingly, he made a kissing noise next to your ear. The blade was replaced against your throat as he typed on the phone once more.

“I catch my own fish.” The voice droned before Jesse shook the phone teasingly in front of you, showing you the text he had typed out, ‘Though I don’t think I want to play with you, piggy. You’re too much of a deer.’

Antony scowled, “What the fuck does that mean…” He howled in agony as Jesse flicked the blade around again and slammed it through his hand. The fingers twitched before he drew his other knife and sliced the appendages free, pinning you in place with his legs as he watched blood spurt over the wood.

 Shock. You felt your heart burn as you wiggled backwards, closer to the killer’s chest before he peeled you free from his lap and dropped you back into the booth. Gruffly, Jesse slammed his bloodied hand over Antony’s mouth.

‘This piggy should have stayed home.’ His phone droned, again and again as the giant stood up, touching the tip of the hunting knife as he admired the shine of blood over the cold steel. With another flourish, he turned the saw half downwards and wrestled Antony over the wood, pinning him with a slam of his head before he dragged the saw downwards and watched skin and muscle part. He paused when Antony passed out and left the knife embedded in the man’s wrist as he looked back at you.

‘Look away.’ He typed with his clean hand. You did as you were asked, fear making you want to cry. He sawed the hand free and looked at the hand left, pinned to the table before he pealed his gloves free and brushed the bottom of your chin.

 “Look alive, sunshine.” The voice chittered, “Get moving.” It continued.

You opened your eyes and Jesse was quick to turn you away from the mess over the table.

“Up. Walk. Back exit.” The phone said. With a shuddering sigh, you got up. Jesse’s mask tilted before he offered his arm. You hooked your arm through his and almost cried as he shut the curtains and blocked you from the view of the other bar staff with his towering figure. His video was still recording.

“Why did you…” You were cut off by a sharp grip.

Jesse didn’t speak until you were both outside, his keys in one hand, snatched from the storage and  his phone held up to you in the other, “I taught them a lesson. They don’t fuck with me and get away with it.” He offered before he dragged you over to his car. You looked at the custom plates and the expensive brand. He laid his briefcase on the bonnet and sighed as he peeled free the chrome covered mask. Beneath was the same as before, heavily operated on with taught skin. A few scars were deep and heavy. His eye that was previously covered with an eyepatch was open, revealing itself as almost blind, the brown iris milky and covered. Still, he wasn’t a monster, just disfigured and evidently, through all the surgery, unhappy about what had occurred.

 “Staring is rude.” The phone whirred, “Should be staring elsewhere, sugar tits.”

You felt yourself go red, “You just killed a man! You don’t have any right to flirt with me after you just made me an accessory to murder!” You flew off the handle, “And now you’re taking me out back to end me too!”

Jesse grinned, white teeth clenched together dangerously as his knife curled and span idly, looking you up and down. He held up the phone nonchalantly, “No I’m not. I’m taking you home.”

“You…You’re joking.” You took a step backwards only for him to grab you once again, breathing in the smell of your hair as his knife traced down your chest. With a flick of his wrist he popped a button off your shirt.

His phone appeared in front of you again, ‘Home address.’

You swallowed and repeated your address for him quietly. He hummed behind you, the knife disappearing before he turned you to face him. His face dipped down to meet yours as he laid a single kiss over your lips.

‘Let’s go for a ride, baby.’

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Note: This could have a trigger affect regarding suicide. If you or anyone you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text TALK to 741741 for 24/7, anonymous, free counseling.

Note: This chapter was inspired by the song Understanding in a Car Crash by Thursday 

Chapter 5: Understanding in a Car Crash

It’s not that Killian was not looking forward to his therapy session, in fact, that would be an understatement, but he had woken up in such a foul mood that he didn’t even want to leave his room.

“You know it’s just like detox. You’re on day 5. Reality is setting in.”

He looked over at August staring at him. “I already have a therapy session with Hopper today; I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me as well.

“Sorry, just offering some reassurance.” The man threw his hands in the air in surrender and Killian decided it would be just as bad to stay here as it would be to face Dr. Hopper’s questions.

Stepping into the courtyard he watched as Ruby left Hopper’s office. He strolled toward the tall brunette, grinning when he noticed her immediate recognition of him. She smiled and strutted in his direction.

“Hey there handsome.” She flirted.

“How was your session?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Eh, I talk more than I should, so I think he’s happy when I leave.”

Killian chuckled. “Got any tips for me?”

“If you want him to change the subject, talk about sex.” She giggled and ran her hand along the buttons of his jacket, fondling them with her long fingers.

“Not sure that tactic would work for me.”

“Well, if you ever need help working on that tactic, you could always practice on me.” She pressed her hand into his jacket against his chest. “Maybe after dinner tonight?”

“Tonight huh? Let me see how this session goes, I’ll think about it.”

“Ok don’t think about it too long, I happen to know that they close off the back side of the island after 5pm so, if you’re interested in exploring…” Her hands roamed toward the waist band of his jeans. “Just let me know.”

“Will do, lass.”

“Good luck.” She purred, swinging her hips as she walked away.

He pushed open the door to Hopper’s office and stepped inside. “Afternoon Killian.”

“Same day, Same Island.” He joked and settled into the couch.

“Today I want to talk more about Milah.”

“Wow right for the balls.” He grumbled.

“Why would you think that? I’m interested in what your relationship was like with your fiancé Milah. Where did you two meet?”

“Hi, I’m Milah, I’m pretty sure I’m your biggest fan.”

“Hi Milah, I’m Killian. Thanks for coming to the show tonight.”

“We uh, we met at one of my shows. She was a fan of the band.”

“When did it move from fan to dating?”

“It was pretty quick. We went out that night, it was a whirlwind courting. At least that’s what Robin says about it.”

“Did Robin like Milah?”

He laughed. “Hell no. Robin called her a gold digger.”

“Did that cause an issue with the band?”

“Rob’s a good guy. He didn’t like her but he’s my mate, so he didn’t push things, no one else would dare bring it up.”

“When did you get engaged?

“About 8 months after we started dating. I had just started filming the sequel for Neverland.”

“When was the wedding taking place.”

Killian tensed. “Um, it was going to be right after the sequel came out, but we uh, we postponed it.”

“Oh, and why was that?”

“There was a lot going on. I uh.” He stared out the window. “Milah and I were fighting a lot during filming.”

“Was Milah accepting of your lifestyle? The drugs?”

“Um yeah, she didn’t have any issues with it.”

“Did she participate?”

“You mean did I do drugs with my fiancé?”

“If that’s how you want me to ask it, yes.”

“Yes, Rob was against the drugs, its part of the reason he disliked Milah so much.”

“Was she high the night of the accident?”

Killian rubbed his palms on his jeans. “No, she wasn’t doing drugs because of the baby.”

“How far along was she?”

“Six months. Doctor said the baby was the size of a mango, so I had just started calling her mango, you know at nights. I always thought it was funny they compared a babe to fruit.”

“But you were still using, while she was pregnant?”

He stared out the window. “Uh yeah. Like I said, there was a lot going on with the baby, I was away a lot because of filming, and when she was with me on set, I felt like she wasn’t really there for me.”

“Were you using the night of the accident?”

“I wasn’t high. I’d had a few drinks, that’s all.”

“Can you remember how many?”

“No, like I said, it was a few.”

“The accident report doesn’t mention driving under the influence, just that rain was a factor.”

“I was bleeding out when they got there, they rushed me into surgery, guess I got lucky I was in shock, so they didn’t think to test.”

“Do you remember the accident?”

Killian glanced at the ceiling. “I uh, not really.”

“Let me the hell out of this car.”

“So, you can run back to him?”

“I want out.”

“Don’t you fucking open that door.”

“Killian, look out.”

“What do you remember?”

“Um, it was raining. I guess I hit a truck. Totaled my car. I remember the ambulance coming.” His voice trailed off, his squeezed his eyes shut.

“The report said that Milah died on contact. Did you know before you went to the hospital?”

He felt a stray tear roll down his cheek. “I…I don’t know. I um, I guess I was in shock. They made me let go of her.”

“Were you aware of your own injury?”

“No.”

“How does it make you feel, knowing what happened that night?”

“How the fuck do you think it makes me feel? Why would you even ask that? It felt like shit! Is that what you want to hear? It was the worst day of my damned life and no matter what I do, no matter how long I spend on this island, none of that is going to make it right. Nothing can fix the fact that I killed her. I killed them both.”

He buried his face in his palm, sobbing.

“Killian, I think it’s important to note that even though nothing you do will ever bring back Milah or the baby, it is important to remember that you didn’t die that night with them. You are still here. Only you can decide how to move forward.”

“And if I don’t want to move forward? Then what Doc? Because I’m good where I am.”

“You’re not really trying to tell me that you’re happy like this?”

“Happy? I don’t bloody deserve happy.”

“Killian, giving in to one’s dark side never accomplishes anything.”

“It’s the only part of me that I have left. “

“If you can't let go of the past... it's doomed to haunt you.”

Killian glared at the man, wiping at the tears in his eyes. He knew he was right, but he also knew he deserved to be haunted for what he did. He was lucky he didn’t get put away for the rest of his life. One simple error of not testing his blood alcohol before surgery and he escaped punishment from the law.

But you never really escape reality.

“How can I help you? Do you want to tell me your name?”

“I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m here to listen, if you just want to talk.”

“…It should have been me.”

“What should have been you?”

“I should have died, not her.”

“Do you have a family member you can talk to?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want the pain to end.”

“Have you thought about hurting yourself?”

“I…uh…yes. I have a gun.”

“Can we stop for today?” Killian pleaded with the man.

“Absolutely. You did good today.”

Killian smiled softly before leaving him and headed back toward his room. He had not expected to go into such detail in therapy. He was both pleasantly surprised and mildly annoyed that the therapist was so good at digging information from people who didn’t want to share any.

He lazily wondered if the blonde lass had lifted any of her burden with the man and then immediately chided himself for giving a damn about a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him, regardless of what the kiss under the pier meant.

He stumbled into the dining hall, his roommate waving him toward a table.

“You eat yet?”

“No, just left Hopper’s.”

“Awesome, we just sat down, grab some food.”

He turned toward the dining line when Will yelled to him. “Don’t eat whatever it is she’s calling the daily special.” He turned away from him and then yelled again. “And don’t get #4 either.”

“Aye, no daily Special, avoid #4.” He continued to mutter the words over and over to himself as he approached the crazy red haired fitness instructor.

“Well, hello there Killian, can I suggest the daily special?”

“Well, lass, that depends on what makes it special?” He joked.

“Quinoa.” She beamed.

“Keen what?”

“It’s a grain that’s very high in fiber, protein, and gluten free.”

“I’ll stick to the things I know. #5 please.”

“Oh, fine but come back when you decide to stop listening to your friends and want to try something healthier.” She turned to her left. “What can I get you Emma?”

He froze before peering to his left at the girl standing beside him, the one who was currently avoiding his gaze.

“Might I suggest the Quinoa?” He offered with a wink toward Zelena.

Her eyes narrowed but she did not look at him. “I’ll have the Grilled cheese please. With onion rings.”

“None of that is healthy. I hope you know that. You’ll need to do an extra spin class this week just to work that off.”

The girl shrugged. “Worth it.”

When Zelena left to get their food, he turned to face Emma. “Swan, are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” She continued to stare straight ahead.

He leaned forward and then stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t tell me you’re not avoiding me, because I’m actually quite perceptive.” He pointed his finger at her and then back at himself. “And this…this is avoiding me.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, grabbing her food. “I don’t even know you well enough to be avoiding you.”

He leaned in closer to her face, “We could change that.” He breathed against her ear. “Care for another distraction?”

“Give me one good reason not to punch you in the face.”

“And ruin this devilishly handsome face, admit it, you want all of this.”

“If you were the last man on this island, I would still say no.” She growled and he was immediately irritated with his own disappointment.

“If the lady insists.” He grabbed his tray and stepped beside her, walking back to his table, joining Will and August.

“You keep messing with that one and you’re gonna get bit.” August gestured toward Emma.

“Her bark is worse than her bite, gents.” He mused, peering over August’s shoulder to observe the girl. She was currently laughing with Ruby, her head tilted back before he heard a distinct snort.

“I know someone else who seems interested in her bite.” Will pointed his fork in the direction of the door. Killian turned his head to see Jefferson walk into the cafeteria and beeline directly for Emma’s table. He felt his jaw tense as the man sat down next to Emma and nudged her with his shoulder. Emma gave him a bright smile and he groaned and shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

He heard another shrill laugh from the other side of the room, and he grumbled.

“Don’t think that lass has laughed so much since she got here. Gotta give it to the bloke for being able to do that.” Will nodded.

Killian slammed his fork down onto the table and stood from his seat, striding immediately to their table. Emma glanced up as she saw him approaching and he broke eye contact, sitting down next to Ruby.

“Killian.” The dark-haired lass perked up when he reached out and touched her knee. He leaned closer to her, staring into her dark eyes.

“I’m in, love. Meet you at 7?” Her eyes widened and her fingernails traveled from his knee upwards on his thigh under the table. He winked at her and then stood from the table, avoiding the dumbfounded look from Emma, before he turned and walked away, a smirk growing on his face.

He took the long way around the island on his way back to his room, taking in the view on the beach and trying to clear his mind from all the activities of the day. The session with Archie had affected him more than he was willing to admit. He had not spoken of the accident to anyone prior to today.

So much had been written about him in the press after Milah had died. Rumors had swirled about Milah and his co-star being in a torrid affair, though no one was able to confirm any truth to it. Killian had always denied the allegations, thankfully his bastard of a co-star refused to comment.

Killian had known that Milah had an affair with the man, he remembered the day he came home early to the sounds of passion in his bedroom. It had broken his heart, but nothing had prepared him when he found the wallet on the floor and identified the other party that was currently bringing out the moans of passion from his fiancé.

Everyone on set knew the truth, especially after a heated confrontation during a scene where Killian had tossed the asshole overboard. He tried to claim he was simply improvising, but the tension remained with everyone on the crew anytime they had a scene together.

Killian had confronted Milah days later only to have her deny that any such deceit had happened. He punched a hole through their bedroom wall that night. Milah cowering in the bathroom and swearing she had always been faithful to him.

His drinking increased from casual to nightly after the incident. Milah’s pregnancy announcement only causing him to spiral further into his use of drugs as a coping mechanism. She continued to swear there was no one else but him but he knew the timing of her pregnancy meant that it was possible the child was not his.

The papers wrote glowing articles about a man at the top of his celebrity prime who lost his fiancé and his hand in a terrible accident on a dark and rainy road. Fans sent him cards and set up memorials in front of their home. It became too much to bear knowing the truth of that night. Killian couldn’t stand to even look at his own face in the mirror.

“Hey, you wanna head to the gym?” Killian peered up to see his roommate poke his head into the doorway. “Will and I are gonna work out for a bit.”

He looked at his watch and realized if he wanted to get to the other side of the island by 7pm he would need to leave now. “Nah, I’ve got plans.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Plans? Care to share?”

“Nope.”

“Stay out of trouble man, you’ve almost made it a week.”

“Sure thing pop.” He joked and pushed past him.

“It’s your funeral.” He heard the man yell as he left, heading toward the beach. As he crossed through the courtyard his eye was drawn to the couple sitting on the grass under one of the palm trees. Blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He slowed his steps, observing as she sat next to Jefferson, her head dropping back a few times to laugh at something he said. He felt an irrational anger when his hand brushed against her hand, he wore a simple smile but one that clearly showed an affection for the girl.

He turned toward them suddenly, clearly his feet had stopped consulting his brain. He crossed in front of the couple, purposely tripping over Jefferson’s shoes.

“Sorry bout that.” He said dryly. “Didn’t see you there, Mate.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at him. “You expect me to believe that you couldn’t see two people sitting in the middle of the grass?” She quipped.

“Contrary to what you may assume, I’m not always paying attention to your every location, love.”

Her mouth dropped. “I wasn’t, I never, I…”

His eyebrow raised as he waited for her to pull together her thoughts, the smirk growing across his lips. When she stopped puckering like a fish, he interrupted. “Lass, I haven’t the time, if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.” He winked and then his feet carried him away from the fuming blonde.

His feet hit sand and he made his way quickly to the back of the island, trying to remove the image of Emma with Jefferson. He was infuriated at how light and unencumbered Emma seemed with the man. Someone who he thought was literally quite mad. Why was she able to relax and enjoy Jefferson’s company while being completely hostile towards him?

“You made it.” A voice whispered and then he felt fingers grasp him by the shirt. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

“Of course, lass, I said I would, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

She pressed up against him, her lips connecting with his neck. “Enough words.” She whispered, hot against his ear.

“Impatient, are we?” He laughed nervously, closing his eyes, and connecting his lips to hers. He slid across her mouth like silk, their tongues clashing together. He backed her up against the building they were hiding behind and she groaned at the aggressive contact. Her hands traveled down his chest and her felt her fingers tugging at the button of his jeans. Pulling back, he smirked. “Now lass, let’s not rush things.”

Her lips pouted. “Hard to get. I can work with that.”

He grabbed her hand in his and pulled it back to his shoulder, returning his lips to hers. She grinded her hips into him and he groaned into her mouth. He ran his hand down her back, resting along the supple curve of her ass.

She ran a hand over his jeans, his cock reacting to the attention. He cursed his active mind that was currently in direct competition with his body.

“Killian, I love you.”

“Milah, baby.”

He moaned, trying to clear the movie playing in his thoughts. Milah laid out underneath of him, her breasts highlighted by the moonlight in their bedroom, looking up at her from his place between her legs.

He grabbed Ruby around the waist and drug her with him to the sandy floor beneath them, running his fingers beneath her shirt and exploring the crevice under her breast.

He pinched her nipple and she cried out in delight. He pressed his mouth to her stomach, enjoying the pleasurable sounds she was making when the picture changed back to his room again.

“Killian, please touch me.”

His gaze drifted up and he was met with hooded green eyes that were praising his attention. His eyes blew open. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby’s head lifted from the ground, peering in the dark in search for his eyes.

He returned his lips to her stomach when his thoughts were invaded by blonde hair, head tilted back, mouth open in a breathy moan. “Fuck.” He sat up quickly. Confused and angered by this new turn of events. His thoughts had always drifted to Milah during sexual encounters, he had become used to it, almost welcomed it at times. Ever since the accident, he had been unable to come to completion in any sexual situation without falling apart to the memory of Milah’s face. How could this woman steal away the last thing he had of his Milah?

“You ok?”

“Of course, dear. I just, it’s been a while.” He shrugged. “I supposed I’m a bit rusty.”

“Oh. I’m…”

“It’s not you, love. You are absolutely gorgeous and amazing. I just, perhaps I’m not as ready as my body is willing. This week has been a bit of a challenge.”

She frowned but her expression remained soft and understanding. “It’s ok. No rush, right?”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind keeping this between us, I would greatly appreciate it. Would hate for my reputation to be sullied.” He winked.

“Just promise me that if anything changes, you’ll come find me.”

He smiled and stood, dragging her up with him. “Allow me to escort you home.” He held out his elbow and she wrapped her arm in his. He was thankful she did not engage him in conversation the rest of the way, he was unsure if he would be able to mask the discomfort or confusion that was at war in his mind.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (18)

And here is the next one! This might feel like a bit of a filler chapter but this is just what my brain wanted me to have for this one so I’m sorry if it’s not the best:)

Warning: just a little hint at characters self hate/struggles but only a tad. Also some implied sexy times at the end of the chap.

Surprises Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

Yet another Noorhelm gif because softness.

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Elain watched as Azriel got more and more frustrated trying to walk on his prosthetic. He’d been fitted for it a few weeks ago now and was told by prosthetist to make sure he used it around the house, and when he was confident and comfortable enough, he could start going out with it. The process was difficult to say the least, especially when he’d first tried walking to kitchen by himself. She told him that time that she wouldn’t look because she didn’t want him to feel pressured or like he had to do it to impress her. Azriel had fallen half way there, putting all of his weight on the leg by accident, and had broken down on the floor of the hallway. Elain’s heart had broken at the sight, holding back tears when he sneered at her, saying he didn’t want nor need her help. She’d called for Cassian and when he’d come to help she disappeared to lie down for a little while, now starting to feel tired all of the time. When she’d woken, Azriel was laying in front of her, fingers stroking down the side of her face and curling around her ear, apologising for being an asshole.

Now, he was testing himself in the garden, pushing himself to try and walk down the few steps from the decking and onto the grass. Elain walked forward when he cursed again, backing out once again from stepping down, holding her hand out to him. He eyed her hesitantly for a moment before sighing, taking her hand to interlace their finger, and only then did he take that first step, Elain right by his side. When they were finally on the grass, they walked together slowly over to the picnic table, sitting in a peaceful silence together. She was happy, just to sit there with him, pressed into his side with his scarred hands holding her own in his lap. After a while, he shifted to his left slightly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips and pressing their foreheads together and mumbling into the space between them. “I really thought I could do it by myself that time.”

Elain stared at him, smiling gently. “You’ll get there, it takes time remember? It’s okay to accept help sometimes you know, it doesn’t make you weak, Az.”

“I know, I just...” He trailed off, eyes fluttering closed and she rubbed her nose against his softly, watching the way his mouth quirked up at the corners.

“You just what?”

“You’re over five months pregnant now, Ellie. I want to be able to move around on my own, to actually do things independently again. I want to be able to actually help you when she’s finally here, to get up in the night when she’s crying so that you can rest. I’m her father, I’m supposed to fucking take care of her too.” There were tears falling down his cheeks and she brushed them away gently before holding his face in her hands.

“You will, you will be able to do those things. And even when you can’t, even when I can’t, we have a big family in that house who want to help. Please, stop this self hating you have going on, thinking that I’m upset. I don’t fucking care about any of it, I’m just glad you’re actually here, that I didn’t lose you because of my asshole father.” Once upon a time she loved her father with everything she had. She loved the man who used to read her stories before bed, the man who made silly faces whenever she fell and scraped her knees. Most of all she missed the man who loved her back. But then her mother died and all of that disappeared, and Nesta was basically left to raise her and Feyre on her own. Giving Nesta everything she wanted most in the world could not repay her for she did, for the childhood she gave up for them.

“Is there any news on your father yet?” Azriel asked her gently, hand and eyes resting on her stomach, feeling as his hellish daughter kicked Elain again. She always got very excited when he put his hand to her bump, like she knew the difference between who was holding her. It would explain why when Cassian always asked to feel, the troublemaker would stop kicking and make Cass pout sadly; messing with her Uncle already.

“Nope, absolutely nothing. The police still can’t figure out where he’s gone and they keep asking us if we know where he might be. I haven’t got a clue and it’s starting to piss me off. He almost killed the three of you, you lost your leg, he should be punished for it the coward.” His hand moved up so that his thumb could smooth along her cheekbone, it was only then that she realised she was crying. Again. Honestly she’d had enough of these ridiculous hormones, making her show every damn emotion against her will. Az opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to soothe her, but suddenly there was a bang from inside and muffled yelling. The two moved as fast as his leg would allow, but he seemed to move with ease now that he wasn’t so focused on it. Making their way through the kitchen once they were inside, the two stopped in the doorway to the living room, Az blocking the space which forced Elain to stand on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. She honestly didn’t know what to make of the sight before her.

There was a beautiful gold haired girl in the middle of the room, face full of anger but also a little bit of sadness, throwing random objects at both Cass and Rhys. The former tried to hide behind Nesta, who kept shoving him away in annoyance. The former seemed to have accepted his fate, standing still and catching each item the girl threw at him.

“You absolute fuckheads! I haven’t heard from any of you in weeks, you left me stuck in that stupid boarding school with nothing! I got back from France last week, planning to surprise you all, so I went to your mother at the hospital to ask her where you all were.” Mystery girl threw a book at Rhys, which Elain realised was her new gardening book from Az, when he dared to open his mouth and interrupt her. “I am not finished Rhysand! The three of you were in a car accident and you didn’t think to tell me, to let me know you were okay? That’s all your mother got out before I left, coming straight here.” Her girls chest was heaving from her furious ramblings, head twisting at speed to where Elain and Azriel stood when he said gently;

“Mor, calm down would you?” She watched as ‘Mor’ dropped the newest item in her hand, lifting it to cover her mouth, gasping in shock when she trailed her eyes over him. She made to move towards him, arms open as if she were going to hug him, but for some reason Elain didn’t like the thought of that considering she didn’t know the other girl. Stepping forward, Elain took his hand in one of her own again and interlaced their fingers. Mor stopped at the gesture, eyes dropping to Elain’s protruding stomach, widening when she looked back to Azriel.

“Tell me that you did not go and get a girl pregnant, please tell me that is not what I am seeing right now.” Elain glared at her, pressing herself closer to him, relishing in his warmth. He looked down at her, eye warm and smile soft, not looking away from her as he declared.

“Mor, I’d like you to meet Elain. My sunshine, my love and yes, the mother of my child.”

“Why do I always miss everything?” She pouted, before glaring and smacking Azriel in the shoulder. “And that’s for not telling me I’m going to be an auntie for god's sake.” He rolled his eyes, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him.

“Yes, yes, we’re very sorry.”

Rhys muttered across the room, “My cousin ladies and gentlemen. Now you know where my dramatics come from.” Mor scoffed, turning to give him the finger.

“Oh no that’s all you, you are so much worse.”

Feyre laughed, reaching up to gently pat her boyfriend on the head. “Hate to break it to you baby, but you really are worse.” He leaned in to kiss her gently on the nose.

“Cruel, wicked thing.”

Mor gagged and suddenly took Elain’s hand, dragging her away from Azriel and towards the sofa. “Enough of your gross shit Rhys. Now, Elain, tell me all about how that fool managed to sweep you off your feet and I want all the nitty and gritty details.”

Elain did, she told her everything once everyone had fully calmed down, the boys clearly happy and excited to have her home. She told Mor about that first drunken night, and the morning after, how she was so fucking scared. Told her about what Azriel had done on that field when Elain had told him, how he had walked away, leaving her hurt and crying and alone. He went pale at the reminder, reaching for her hand at her other side and apologising once again when Mor called him every name she could think of. Then came talks of her first ultrasound, her little scare and how they’d had to tell everyone, the gender and her father’s outburst. Finally they got to the car crash, forcing Elain to close her eyes at the onslaught of memories, the sight of Cassian broken and sobbing on the hospital floor. When she was done, she looked up to see that Mor had a few tears in her eyes.

“I should have fought harder when my parents told me they were sending me away, I should have done something. I should have been at home where you all needed me, and to save you girls from these blithering idiots, because it’s a miracle none of you have killed them yet.” Nesta chuckled from her seat in the arm chair, Cassian sitting at her feet while she braided his hair.

“Believe me I’ve come close, but there’s still time.” Cass only hummed, eyes closed and Elain had to hold back a giggle at his next words.

“I’ve told you about the dirty talk sweetheart. Those death threats of yours do something to me and you have got to stop doing it in front of people.” Elain’s sister merely pulled on his hair in response, making her boyfriend hiss in pain. She frowned when she finally connected with that first part of what Mor had said, looking at the golden haired girl curiously.

“Why did your parents send you away? You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wish to talk about it.”

The other girl sighed but shook her head, lifting her hand to tuck a few curls behind her ear. “No, no, it’s alright. They had found out that I am very, very much into girls. They thought that maybe by sending me to that stupid school, it would keep me away from ‘temptations’ and it would ‘fix’ that part of me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Why did parents have to be so awful sometimes?

Mor laughed, eyes full of mischief as she smirked. “It’s quite alright. What they didn’t realise was that I was going to meet some very pretty French girls.”

They all stayed together for hours after that, just talking. Elain and her sisters getting to know Mor, while the boys got her caught up with everything while she’d been away. Long after dinner, and when it was finally dark, Elain felt herself begin to fall asleep, head dropping against Az’s shoulder every now and then. She jolted when he stood and put his hand out to her, much like she had earlier in the day. “I think it’s bedtime for you, sunshine.” All she could was nod and take his hand, slowly making herself stand which was something that was becoming a bit of a difficult task. Just as they reached the stairs, she turned her head back to look over her shoulder.

“It was lovely to finally meet you Mor.” The other girl grinned widely.

“And you. Now go get that beauty rest and make that idiot give you all of the massages.” Elain laughed before turning to make her way up the stairs. It took Az a little while longer, but he did it.

When they were finally settled in bed, he rolled carefully onto his side to face her, eyes sparking in the low light. His hand reached for her, bringing her close to him, before he teased her with slow, trailing fingers across her chest. “I’d quite gladly give you a massage, baby.” That devil of a hand dropped to the hem of his shirt that she was wearing, slipping his hand underneath, making goosebumps rise on her skin as it drifted up her stomach, settling on her breast and cupping her firmly. Elain’s breath hitched in her throat, swallowing dryly.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He leaned in to place hot, opened mouthed kisses along her neck as she wrapped a leg around his hips. She pulled him in close, her own hands grabbing at his shoulders, dragging her nails down his back and revelling in the moan she received in return. His eyes darkened when she brought her face closer, her lips brushing his before she trailed them along his jaw, moving up to his ear and taking the lobe into her mouth and biting gently. Azriel moaned again, pushing his hips into her hers when she whispered against the shell of his ear.

“Do your worst, my love.”

-------

Ah Mor is here! Did you think she wouldn’t be here? She was there in my mind the whole time with this thing in my head about her outing but it just never appeared in the fic. I’m actually sorry it took me this long but, it’s just the way the story went.

Tags: @drunken-starz​ @myfriendscallmeraba  @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll  @stars-falling​ @lacewilde​ @verifiefangirl  @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @fancyclodpaintercookie​ @acourtofterrasenandvelaris​ @silver-flames​ @queen-of-glass​ @bamchickawowow​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @sleeping-and-books​ @b00kworm​ @kvi-arts​  @tswaney17​ @awkward-avocado-s​ @courtofjurdan​ @junkiejosten10​ @mu-si-ca-l​ @agem10​ @harmonyindark245​ @slightly-sane-fangirl​ @tanaquilpriscilla​ @my-fan-side​ @whimsyrhys​ @starrynightsbooks @maastrash​ @kendarbahr   @elriel4life​ @illyriangarbage​  @thewayshedreamed​ @snowflakesandstarlight​

[newcolonies]

Going Under

Authors Note: I’m back and so ready to start writing again! I know this is kinda angsty but I got some fluffy fics I’m working on and so excited for you guys to read! Also I just wanted to say a big thanks to @openheart12 for allowing me to snatch Jonah’s name! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: mention of drowning

Word Count: 1,800

Tag list: @openheart12 @noboundariesplease @trappedinfandoms @caseyvalentineramsey @junehiratas @kaavyaethanramsey @choices-love-affair @queencarb @lilyvalentine @rookieoh @siaramsey @thanialis

*If you would like to be added or removed from the list just let me know. 

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Ethan buckled Jonah into the car seat. He had recently turned three and had become terribly curious, and energetic. Sitting in one place for an extended period had become a daunting job for him. Ethan had finished his task and made his way over to the driver's seat. Today's adventure consisted of visiting grandpa Naveen at his lake house. Ethan and Casey had kindly declined Naveen's offer only because Jonah could be a lot to handle at times. And taking into consideration the older doctor's health, Ethan hadn't wanted to bring more stress upon him. But of course, Naveen insisted that the pair bring the little one up to the house. They made their way through his driveway. A small wooden palace hidden behind large beefy trees, a petite dock laid next to the house extending only a short way into the water. Naveen sat peacefully on a wooden porch swing swaying slowly, he offered a small smile to the family that was now walking up to the deck.

"Grandpa!" Jonah shrieked as he ran up to Naveen. The man swiftly lifted the boy onto his lap. Jonah wrapped his slim arms around Naveen. Ethan and Casey made their way up to the porch hand in hand, a large smile present on both of their faces. 

"Hello, Naveen," Ethan said with a curt nod. 

"Hello, my boy," Naveen said before directing his attention towards Casey. "How are you, my dear." He said glancing down at the large bulge that was her stomach. 

"I'm doing great," Casey said moving a hand on the top of her abdomen. She had been pregnant with their second child for about thirty-seven weeks. They were having another little boy to which they agreed to name Flynn Timothy Ramsey. They decided to name him after Casey's grandfather, a brilliant man, and a father figure in Casey's life. "All though I am ready for this little stinker to be born."

"I bet," Naveen said with a snicker. Naveen moved his attention to Jonah who was flipping through the medical book that Naveen had been reading before the family arrived. "Jonah, would you like to go swimming?" Naveen said swooping the young child in his arms while he stood. A bright smile developed on Jonah's face as he eagerly shook his head up and down.

  Before Naveen could walk down towards the dock, Ethan took Jonah out of his arms. "Allow me to lighten the load. You should be taking it easy." Ethan said giving Naveen an all too knowing look.

"My boy, you worry too much," Naveen replied and with that he led the way over to the dock, limping ever so slightly. 

Once at the dock Ethan let Jonah out of his arms. The view was astonishing, almost too perfect to be seen by any human being. A large mountain range encapsulated by trees and rolling hills. 

"Beautiful isn't it? Now you can understand why I hadn't wanted to stay in that monotonous hospital." Naveen said with a smile.

"It is beautiful, but that is no excuse for you to ignore your health," Ethan said cocking an eyebrow at Naveen.

  Naveen gave a slight chuckle. "Maybe. But is a life worth living if you never allow yourself to see the beauty in life itself and I can assure you there is no beauty in a hospital room." Naveen said placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder, a peaceful silence engulfing them. There was no point in fighting Naveen no matter how wrong Ethan had thought his opinions on the matter had been. "Well, make yourselves at home," Naveen said breaking the silence between the two. "I'm going to prepare the food, I'll be back in a bit." 

"Do you need help?" Ethan called after him. "I don't want you to take in more than you can handle." 

"Enjoy yourself, Ethan. You never know the next time you may be able to relax, so take this opportunity while it's still available." Naveen said before walking in the direction of the house. 

Ethan moaned of frustration "Why won't he just let me help him? I don't understand." Ethan said taking a seat next to his wife.

"Honey, he's right, just relax," Casey said laying her hand on the top off his thigh "Besides if you stress over the small things too much you may get gray hair," Casey said searching his beard for lighter hair. "Never mind I guess it's too late for that" Casey said laughing as she ran her fingers through the side of his beard. 

"Haha laugh it up, but I'd like to have you know that these grays arrived when I met a specific intern. You may know her as a colossal pain in the ass." Ethan said slyly smiling at her. 

"Okay, I deserved that," Casey said a small pout on her face. 

"Mommy!" Jonah said impatiently pointing towards the water. 

"Jonah don’t go near the water until you have your arm floaties on," Casey said getting up from her seat and grabbing the plastic floaties out of the bag. 

"I had better go help Naveen, he may be getting himself into trouble," Ethan said as he started walking over to the house. 

Jonah stared at the water, watching the small ripples move out into the middle of the lake. He inched closer so he could get a better look at the small waves. Jonah reached his hand off the side of the dock. His hand was hanging just inches from touching the water. He pushed his body forward sending just enough momentum to send him tumbling into the body of water. A small splash erupted from the fall. 

"Jonah?" Casey said as she peered at the dock, the arm floats still in her hands. "Jonah?" she said again searching for any sight of the child. "Where’s Jonah?" Casey said to herself panic engulfing her. Her breathes became short and light.  "Ethan!" She screamed an attempt to get her husband to help. Her body froze in place, panic and anxiety-filled her. She felt light-headed, she felt empty.

  Ethan ran outside, shaken by the sound of his screaming wife. "Casey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Ethan breathlessly asked "Wait where is Jonah." Ethan said color leaving his face. 

The splashing occurred once more in the water. Ethan glanced over toward the sound, a burst of realization hitting him. He jumped into the water, no other thoughts, no other motives than saving his son from the depths of the lake that held him. Ethan grabbed under the water wrapping his arms around Jonah's limp body. He pulled Jonah out of the water and laid him gently on the dock before pulling himself onto the dock. Any emotions he should have felt were overtaken by the adrenaline that was raging throughout his body sending him straight into doctoring mode. He placed his fingers over Jonah's neck, a light pulse was present. Ethan started the process of CPR.

"Come on the little guy, wake up, stay with us," Ethan said with each compression.  After two rounds of chest compressions, Jonah coughed, water dribbling from his mouth.

  "Oh my God," Casey said breathlessly. She had silently been praying that their son would be okay, and thankfully her prayers had been answered. Jonah coughed water up once again.

  Ethan grabbed Jonah in his arms and hugged him tightly. The realization that he had almost lost his son suddenly dawned on him. His son almost just drowned. His Jonah had almost just drowned. The words turning over and over again in his mind. These exact thoughts made him sick to his stomach. A small tear fell from Ethan's eyes followed my another. He released his grip on Jonah.

  "Daddy?" Jonah said softly confusion etched over his face.  

Casey made her way over to her husband and wrapped her arms around Jonah. "Honey, are you alright?" Casey said tears were still falling from her eyes.

"Yes?” Jonah said still confused.

 Casey let out another sigh of relief. Naveen walked out of the house with a tray in his hands and a bright smile on his face. One glance at the distraught faces of Ethan and Casey turned his happiness to utter confusion and sadness.

"Did Jonah fall into the water?" Naveen asked. He knew by the looks on their faces that he was right.

Ethan noded his head. Naveen looked from Ethan and Casey to poor little Jonah. His heart dropped. He felt sorrow and guilt well up inside of him. He felt that it had partially been his fault because the accident had happened at his house. He immediately shook these thoughts away. All that really mattered to him was that Jonah was alive and breathing well. He would have to deal with these negative feelings later.

  "You know what, I'll take Jonah in the house and give him a little exam just to make sure his lungs aren't full of water and that his heart is beating normally. You two can are welcome to come inside and join me if you would like." Naveen said grasping Jonah's small hand in his, and leading him towards the house.

"We'll be there in a minute." Ethan said roughly, his throat was still tight as he was trying to hold back the tears that needed to be released. Naveen nodded, then closed the door behind him and Jonah. 

"Ethan, I'm so sorry." Casey finally said as the tears began to rapidly flow running smoothly down her face. "I should have been watching him, I should have been there, there’s so many things I should have done." Her words were almost inaudible, as she began to sob harder. "Maybe I'm not cut out for parenting after all." She said stumbling on her words as they got caught in her throat. 

"Casey, don't ever say that. Sure you should have been watching him, but you can't change what the outcome was. All you can do is learn from the situation." Ethan said. He could feel his own tears running down his face. "You are a wonderful mom and wife, and I will always believe that no matter what happens." He said wiping away a tear from her cheek. "Always." He said almost in a whisper. 

Casey leaned her head on his shoulder. He always had said the right words to comfort her. He had always been there for her even though she made grave errors. She was so thankful that somehow she had ended up with a man like Ethan.They sat like this in silence, because they didn’t need to talk to understand what the other thought or  what the other felt. But most importantly they comforted each other, even through the silence.

Suddenly Jonah came running out of the house towards the two. He sat himself down on Ethan's lap and laid his legs  acrossed Casey's. 

"He's in perfect condition, the only thing in his lungs is air, and his heart is beating normally. A miracle I would say." Naveen said as he walked up to the couple and sat down next to Ethan.

  "Thanks, Naveen," Ethan said as he firmly held Jonah close to him. They were going to make mistakes, that was a given. But as long as they stuck together through the thick and the thin they would make it through. Even in the foggiest of nights together they would be the light that gets them through.

[yesmooshoe]

Pepperony Week Day #1 - High School/College AU

Title: can we pretend this never happened? Rating: Teen Relationships: Tony Stark/Pepper Potts. Minor IronDad. Peter is a baby. Word Count:  2145 Summary:  Just a short little fic for Pepperony Week 2020 about Tony & Pepper having Peter when they were 16. Read it below, or on AO3!

Tony sat with his arms crossed over his chest staring straight down at the floor. The room was mostly dark so that Pepper could get some rest, but there was bright light flooding in from under the door. His father was pacing just outside though, which made the light blink on the shiny tile. His eyes focused on the changing light in the room as his mind wandered, and he just desperately wanted this to be over with. He didn’t want to dwell, it was too hard. He just wanted to move on and do his best to pretend that none of this had ever happened.

He spaced out, just watching the shadows from his father’s pacing back and forth, but suddenly the door swung open and the lights turned on, illuminated the stark hospital room. His father was the first in, followed by his lawyer, Mark, and then Pepper’s mother. Pepper shot right up and then winced a bit in pain before settling back against the bed. Tony rushed to her side and grabbed her hand.

“You ok?” He asked softly while keeping his eyes on the three adults in the room, almost protecting her from them.

“Yeah.” She answered as she grabbed her plastic cup of water.

“Can’t this wait? She’s exhausted.” Tony asked as he turned to look up at his father.

“No, it can’t. The parents are here and they want their son and I want all of this to be over and done with as soon as possible.” Howard replied sternly, his voice full of disdain. “Mark has a few things for you guys to sign and then it’ll be done.”

“And then we get our money, right?” Pepper’s mother, Cindy, asked while digging through her purse.

Tony couldn’t decide whose family had been more of a nightmare during this whole situation. On the one hand he had his parents, who’d always disliked Pepper and who couldn’t believe that he’d knocked up that piece of trailer trash out of wedlock . And then on the other there was Cindy, who’d also gotten pregnant at 16 and spent the whole pregnancy telling Pepper that she should have just gotten rid of it like I should have done. She only really changed her tune once she realized that the adoptive parents were willing to pay and that Tony wanted Pepper to have all of the money.

“Yes, the money will be deposited into an account for Pepper’s college.” Mark reminder her, which was something that Tony had insisted on. He knew that if given the chance Cindy would take it all, so he did what he could to make sure that the money went to Pepper.

“Yeah yeah.” Cindy sighed as he pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and lighter.

“Mom! You can’t smoke in here!” Pepper spat at her. “Just...just give us the papers to sign. I just want to sleep.”

Tony took the stack of documents from Mark, but instead of flipping to the flagged bits he started reading, much to Howard’s chagrin.

“Tony! Just sign the damn thing!” Howard practically yelled, which made Tony flinch.

“Can I read it first?”

“No, nothing has changed since we last talked about it. Just sign it. Both of you.” He said, holding out a pen.

Tony clenched his jaw as he took the pen and quickly flipped to the pages he had to sign. When he was done he spread them out on the tray table for Pepper and soon enough it was done. He was no longer theirs. Richard and Mary Parker were now his parents, and even though he knew they’d be good parents and even though he knew that everyone had agreed that this would be the best thing to do, it still stung. He was literally giving a piece of himself away, and as he locked eyes with Pepper he knew that she was feeling the same thing.

They’d known each other for a little over 2 years and been officially dating for roughly half of that. Tony had been kicked out of his prep school for accidentally burning down a building, so as punishment Howard sent him to the local public high school. He met Pepper when they were paired together for a project and they quickly became friends. It started off with months of them not sure what to make of each other, though they obviously clicked. Then they spent a few months having very obvious crushes until Pepper finally kissed him at the Homecoming dance their sophomore year. And now, half-way through their junior year, they were parents.

Well, not anymore.

Once the paperwork was signed Cindy quickly dashed out of the room, desperate for a cigarette and bitching about being late for work because of this. Mark quickly followed so that he could find the Parkers, and Howard just stood, peering down at them. Tony was looking at him almost defiantly as he held Pepper’s hand, just waiting for him to say something.

“Are you coming home?” Howard finally asked.

Tony almost laughed. “No, I’m staying right here. With her.”

“You should be at Harvard right now, not stuck with some tramp who tried to trap you with a baby.”

Pepper’s grip on Tony’s hand immediately tightened as she tried to keep him calm, but all that Tony wanted to do was jump up and attack. He was bigger and stronger than Howard now so he didn’t really have to take this shit, but this also wasn’t the time or place for a brawl. Plus he was just trying to push his buttons. Yes, if Pepper hadn’t gotten pregnant he’d be at Harvard right now, but he’d decided to hold off for another year so that he could be here when the baby came. He was only 16, Harvard could wait. So instead of lashing out, he just said nothing. He gave Pepper’s hand a squeeze, letting her know that he was OK, and eventually Howard just threw his hands up and left.

“I’m sorry.” Tony said as soon as he was gone.

“Don’t be, it’s certainly not the worst thing he’s said about me.” Pepper said as she shifted a bit to get more comfortable, which just made Tony feel worse.

“Still. Just like. You know none of that is true? What he said? I want to be here, I want to be here with you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“I know and I love you.” She replied quietly before a silence fell over them for a while, neither sure what they were supposed to do or say now. “Did you see them?”

“Who?”

“The Parkers? They’re here, right? Did you see them?”

“No. Do you - do you want to see them? I’m sure I could find them.”

“No.” Pepper said quickly.

“Ok, ok. No problem. It’s late, let’s just try to sleep. Lay down.” He suggested as he tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. He kicked his shoes off as he crawled into the bed, and once he was settled he pulled her down so that her head was resting on his chest. He started running his hand up and down her arm, just wanting her to relax. Soon he became aware that she was crying, so he just held her closer and let her cry. “Shh, Pep. It’s ok, he’ll be ok. We’re doing the right thing. He’ll - you know, he’ll be raised by people who love him and will take care of him. And we’ll both get to go to college, ok? It’s ok, it’s ok.” He said, not sure if it would help. He didn’t know what to say to make it better, and honestly he felt like crying himself. He just held her close though and let her cry until they both fell asleep.

Tony woke up early the next morning as the first rays of sun poured through the window. Pepper was sound asleep against him and he really didn’t want to move, but he also really had to pee. He slowly untangled himself from her and stood up. She stirred a bit and rubbed her eyes as they fluttered open. “Hey. Morning, beautiful. Sorry to wake you up but I didn’t want to wet the bed.” He joked, flashing her a big smile.

“Mmm can you get me some water?” She asked as she cuddled back up.

“Yeah, hang tight.” He said. He quickly dipped into the bathroom to pee and splash some water on his face before grabbing her pitcher and refilling her glass. “You feel ok? Any pain or anything.”

“No, I’m all right.”

“Ok. I’m uh, I’m gonna run to the vending machines, all right? Do you want anything?”

“No.”

“I’ll be back soon, don’t go anywhere.” He teased as he pulled his shoes on and dug around in his backpack for some money.

He never made it to the vending machines though. He hadn’t even really intended on going there unless Pepper needed something. Instead he found himself peering into the nursery at his son. Baby Boy Parker , as it said on the card. He looked around to make sure he was alone before he pulled put the disposable camera he’d bought at the gift shop. He wasn’t supposed to see the baby, and no one was supposed to know that he was the father. Howard had said he wanted it kept a secret for safety reasons, but Tony couldn’t help but feel that he was embarrassed. He didn’t care though, he needed to see him.

He snapped a few photos of the sleeping, angelic baby, and then just stood there for a few moments, looking at him. Tony was just a kid himself and had no idea how to raise a kid, nor did he really want to try right now. He wanted to go to school, he wanted Pepper to go to school, and he just wanted to be a kid himself for a while longer. Yes, they’d made a mistake. It was an accident, really. The condom broke and they didn’t realize until they were done. And they’d talked through all of their options and decided to give the baby up for adoption even before they told their parents, but it was still hard. Harder than he ever thought it would be.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there before the hallway started to fill with people, pulling him from his thoughts. He quickly tucked the camera away and turned to head back to Pepper, but that’s when he saw them. The Parkers. He’d met them a handful of times before, and they all froze when they saw each other. Tony took a deep breath and walked right to them.

“Hey guys.” Tony said, holding his hand out to shake.

“Hi, Tony. How’s Pepper?” Mary asked cautiously, unsure what to even say.

“Oh, she’s fine. We’re fine.” Tony answered, trying to work up the nerve to say what he wanted to. “Look, I know that I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to have any contact with you guys or with him now, which is fine. Really. No one is supposed to know who his parents are, which is also fine. But just. If you guys ever need anything , just ask. Ask me. I know who you are, I know you can find me. If he, you know, breaks his leg and you need to pay for the cast. Or if he decides to start playing the cello and you can’t afford to buy him one. Or just...anything. If you ever need anything, just ask. I’ll make it happen.”

Richard and Mary both looked a bit taken aback, but they both nodded. “He’ll be fine, Tony. We’ll take care of him.”

“I know, but the offer still stands, all right?”

“Thank you.” Richard said, giving him a smile.

“Ok. Well...well I have to get back to Pepper. Uh. Ya know just…” Tony trailed off, unsure what to say now. “Pepper’s allergic to strawberries and so is her mom. So keep an eye on that.”

“We will. Go on, go be with her.” Richard said, shaking his hand again.

Tony nodded before walking past them to get back to Pepper’s room, but stopped and called out to him once more. “Hey, um, one last question.”

They both turned to look at him, ready to answer whatever he asked.

“What’s his name?”

Mary just smiled. “Peter. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“Peter? I like it.” He smiled as he finally walked away, eager to get back to Pepper and working on getting back to a normal life. He wasn’t going to interfere with the Parkers’ lives or keep tabs on them, but he just hoped that Peter would be happy and hoped that maybe someday their paths would cross again.

[vfenrirsv]

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, let me go…

I couldn’t even begin to tell you when I last felt like I was myself; when I last felt proud of who I am, or where I came from, or of all the obstacles that I’ve had to overcome in order to get to where I am today.

I was born “Vanessa.” A Gemini, an Air sign, a Horse under Chinese astrology. Coyote is my Totem. Wolf is my Sacred Guide. In Greek the meaning of my name is “Butterfly,” also from Phanessa, the mystic goddess of an ancient Greek brotherhood bent on finding Truth. Various accounts offer the ideas that someone named “Vanessa” bears the qualities of beautiful and strong, and most importantly ‘always tough on the inside.’ To the latter, at least, I can attest.

My Mother, in my infancy, called me “‘Nessa” in affection and “Vanessa-Anne” in ire. If my Father ever called me by any name other than “Baby-girl;” I can’t remember. I don’t remember much about my Father before my early tweens, when I was forced by the courts to spend time with him in an attempt to foster some type of relationship with the man that my Mother had divorced.

In elementary school I was simply “Vanessa.” Straight-A student in all but mathematics, budding lover of arts and crafts, and defender of both my own and my Mother’s honor on the playground when kids teased me about acting like a tomboy, or not having a father.

Throughout secondary school I was largely invisible – called a number of racial slurs, though I never considered any of them my name, even when someone took the time to recognize me; to bully me. Being white in a community predominated by African American and Hispanic families didn’t grant me the illusionary honor of being called anything other than “Cracker” or, “Piglet” since my parents worked in law enforcement.

By then, I didn’t want to be “Vanessa.” I didn’t want to have a name at all. Silence and being invisible was better than being called out for all of the things that I had no control of. It wasn’t my fault that I was born white, or born into a broken home, or the product of two law enforcement officers who sought happiness outside of their careers. In a quickly emerging socio-economic climate where all three of those variables were prescribed as being abhorrent or fundamentally wrong, I was cast adrift to navigate those faults as if I had brought them upon myself by my own hand. “Dealt a bad hand,” as they say; but it didn’t matter. “She’s a tough little thing.”

When I die, you can push me out to sea; When I die, set me free…

I was in fifth grade when I thought about suicide for the first time. Those dark thoughts were the result of climbing onto an overly-full bus to go to school; only to find that the only available seat was being used to hold the book-bags for a trio of African American girls who took one look at me and sneered. I sat on the edge of the seat, careful not to disturb their property; but when the bus turned a corner, and one of their bags fell the floor; they immediately grabbed my hair, punched me in the stomach, and began to degrade me with every slur they could think of. I hated myself and my name for no other reason that it wasn’t socially acceptable to be who I was.

When my mother later confronted the counselor of the school, a robust African American woman herself; she was told something to the effect of “to take her whining child and leave.” The "counselor" never said my name, because to them, I was a nobody. I was invisible.

In high-school I was both “Van” and “’Ness,” depending on how close I was with the person calling my name. I fell into Art and Science, and always kept my nose in a book. I avoided most people like the plague. When I joined the marching band I wore long jackets even in the summer and did my best to ignore the jokes about me being shy, but for the first time in a long time I wasn’t invisible and I wasn’t nameless.

I wasn’t “Vanessa” anymore, I wasn’t the bullied and disgusting child of a single-parent officer. I clung to being “Van.” “Van” was the introverted Artist who hand-made t-shirts for several of her fellow marching band members, and who thrived in studying Marine Biology and Criminal Sciences. I cut my hair and dyed it bright colors. I played soccer in short shorts. I free dived the local haunts in brightly colored bathing suits, and learned to connect to my peers. I got piercings up both of my ears and a tattoo on my back. I stopped wearing clothing to hide within. I grew to trust and love a very small group of people that, to this day – even though I’ve hardly spoken to any of them in years – I still consider my family. “Van” was the antithesis to “Vanessa.” Where “Vanessa” was reclusive, anti-social, and forced to grow up fast, “Van” was vivacious, carefree, and youthful.

Just before my 19th Birthday I met M. Tall, dark, handsome, though 10 years my senior; everything a budding idiot of a young woman would look for in a man – minus the obvious red-flags of him being not-so-separated from his soon-to-be-ex-significant-other and going thru a messy divorce. I saw a man, deliciously off limits, and he saw a young woman unclaimed by any other. When we eventually came together he panted into the naked dip between my shoulders, and between his ragged breaths on the precipice of a climax, the name “Vanessa” – for the first time in years – didn’t make me flinch or shy away.

When I joined the military midway through my first year in college, I was only identified by my last name, as it was barked at me for eight weeks in Boot, and then used as the only true thing that I owned without cost, once I was sent to my duty stations. It was tacked onto my MOS and Rank each time I was reassigned or given a new task. It was efficient, neutral, and impersonal. I grew to be the same. My shipmates called me by rank in the office, and “Van” on shore leave.

Years after; after M’s successful divorce, a couple more of my birthdays, and a few new duty stations, I began to better understand who I was as “Van.” I cultivated myself and thought for sure that this is who I was meant to be, and that I was with the person that I was supposed to be with. I soon learned otherwise. M was man with the world at his feet, divorced, with a young virile military girlfriend, he could do anything his heart desired. He ended up desiring all options that were the opposite of my own. So, true to my name, I tempered the steel within me; handed him back the $10,000 engagement ring he had placed on my finger; and told him “I love you, but now I know that love – sometimes – isn’t enough;” and we separated.

When I die, let the sharks come 'round to feed; When I die, set me free…

When I was honorably discharged from the military I was left adrift to deal with my PTSD and clinical depression. No one called me by my last name anymore. I was a civilian now. I did my best to stay “Van” in all the ways that mattered. I clung to my confidence, my intelligence, my MOS skillset; but I was also now blunt, with a dark sense of humor, and didn’t associate well with people my own age. I was standoffish and curt, expecting the same manner of respect and accountability from my new civilian peers as I had grown accustomed to while in the service. I started asking people to simply call me “V.”

“It’s just easier,” I’d tell people with a smile, but the truth was that I didn’t know who I was anymore.

When I met S, I was still “V.” I was mysterious and adventurous. I was a vixen, a one night stand, a pirate queen who left a trail of broken hearts behind her, a woman out to see the world and maybe watch it burn. I was fun and brutal in equal measures. The military made me sharp, and S was more than rough around the edges. We fell for each other faster that might have been wise, took to one another like melodramatic lovers always do. There was carnal passion and dangerous motorcycle rides down highways at 3AM. There were nights when we wouldn’t speak at all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t want to have a name, or that his name was all that I would whisper or scream for hours. There were risks of getting caught, of getting pregnant, of getting too attached. There were days when all we would do was talk, and yet for all of our words we would talk about nothing at all. There were days when I knew that I had fallen in love, and nights when I had convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a single bit of it.

When you don’t have a name and don’t care who you’re becoming; it doesn’t matter what happens next. So one day, I left. I made the excuse that I had been offered a job somewhere across the country, that I was going on a vacation, that I was interning with a university out in the desert. It didn’t matter what I said. I was already gone. Lying to myself about why I was cutting the strings became easier the further away I got. Years later, S and I ran into one another; and he fervently admitted that he had been in love with me and had been too stupid to say it. I admitted that I had felt much the same, but had been too broken to allow myself to believe it.

When I die, let the flames devour me; When I die, set me free…

I rounded out many of the sharp edges that the military had left me with by moving back home. I had found employment in the civilian sector that matched closely with my MOS in the military, and I had begun to try and make friends on my off days. Mostly, I spent my free-time outside. I’d kayak or free dive the freshwater rivers in my home region, hike the beach trails or brush-land. I’d camp on the beach some nights or lay in a hammock in the dark of the pinewood on others. My time in the isolation of wilderness taught me how to sit still with my own darkness, and I believed that I would be mentally equipped to handle it.

Then, I stopped looking for myself in nature and started dating. I felt that I was ready. Tough girls move forward, right? That’s how I met J: completely by accident. A friend of my brother’s from the same high school – we had crossed paths more than a few times; with him a football star and me Second Chair in marching band. He called me “Van” and it didn’t strike me as odd, knowing that he knew me from before; when being “Van” meant more than being “V.” We connected, and did well for a time. He got a job as a Deputy and I as a Dispatcher. Things seemed like they were beginning to align. I thought my future was in sight. He said my name with pride and affection when he introduced me to his parents. He breathed life back into the part of me that was both “Van” and “’Ness” and “Vanessa” in equal measures, fixing me with slivers of adoration, challenge, pride, hope, adventure, and affection. We had many of the same interests, he never once stopped showering me in affection, and J could make me feel like the most treasured woman in the room with nothing more than a wink.

Moving in together with his brother and brother’s girlfriend is what killed all of the fragile progress that had been made. I came home from a twelve hour shift one afternoon to his brother’s girlfriend screaming obscenities. I didn’t clean enough. I didn’t follow her rules enough. I wasn’t present enough, or friendly enough. I was too young at the time to understand that she was unhappy with more than just herself, that there were things going on in her life that had nothing to do with me; but all I heard was: “Vanessa” wasn’t good enough to be part of “this family” anymore. They didn’t want anything to do with “Van.” I fell apart, and I was too broken to accurately convey to J what her statements had done to me mentally, what his brother’s silence in the face of those blatantly vindictive statement had done to me. I wasn’t able to convey all of the damage that I believed was irrevocably done.

I closed in on myself and became “V” again. If they didn’t want “Van,” or “’Ness,” or “Vanessa” in their picture-perfect ideations of the familial future, then I’d do them all a favor and leave. So I ended it. Moved into my own place. Started over. “V” didn’t care if she left another broken heart to the surf; didn’t care if starting over caused more harm than good. “Van” began to have the same connotations as “Vanessa.” I was running out of nicknames and letters to remove from my name; as if parceling out portions of my appellation would allow me the illusion that I was – somehow – keeping it all together. I gathered what I had left of myself and pushed forward. If nothing else, I was ‘always tough on the inside,’ right?

When I die, throw my ashes to the breeze; When I die, scatter me…

Later, I met my ex-husband D, an Air Force veteran, and each step in our post-military journey together unknowingly brought us closer to our unavoidable divorce. We both had scars that weren’t truly healing over, and we both had been losing ourselves to our own different demons for years before we met. We both wanted a distraction, someone to fall into on the weekends. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t looking for more than a dalliance, and I was secure in the knowledge that I could use him to chase away the solitude while maintaining my independence. By the time we realized that we were mired in one another it was almost a surprise for both of us to find that our demons played well together. Everything seemed fine, until it wasn’t.

We were always on the move. Influenced by work or family or our own personal goals; we would set out to each new place with hope in our hearts and dreams of bright futures in our minds. We’d drag each other along with us; happy to be in the orbit of the other even if it meant more change. Florida, Georgia, Tennessee. Kentucky, Michigan, Colorado…Each move was a fresh start, right? Each move was a learning opportunity, an adventure, a chance to explore instead of putting down deep roots…

I cannot speak on his behalf, but in my reality, each move brought a new job that I needed to train for, understand, and master; with new titles that I needed to be worthy of, and new responsibilities that I needed to fulfill. Each new apartment complex would be a new contract and a new name that someone would call me by; “206B,” “Mrs. Vanessa,” “Miss Van,” or some hybrid combination of both my and his last name.

By Colorado we no longer wanted the same thing. I hated being “Mrs. Vanessa,” or some last name sphinx-crossbreed. “Mrs. Vanessa” had suddenly become a weekend step-mother to two young boys who neither wanted me or needed me in their lives; and was now the wife of a man who didn’t know what he wanted out of a career or a marriage. “Mrs. Vanessa” found herself far from any semblance of a home, in a relationship that was coming undone at the very seams.

D moved back to his childhood home in Michigan, and I stayed in Colorado. Alone. We were separated for several weeks; trying to figure out how to salvage what we had attempted to build together. Demons play well together until, unsurprisingly, they don’t. The time that we spent separated outnumbered the time that we had been factually married. The distance allowed us to say all of the things that we otherwise wouldn’t have said to each other’s faces. Full disclosure and transparency came at the cost of long distance calls and aggravated re-dials. We yelled. We cried. We drew the venom out of the wounds we’d inflicted upon each other and finally relented. We didn’t attempt marriage counseling.

When the years have torn me apart; Just Let me be…

In an attempt to patch the internal damage, I made friends outside of my job. We started game nights, hosted pot-lucks, explored Colorado, and I was able to truly find kinship in one of my new friends. A fellow Gemini, Air sign, military veteran, person who had lost their path but had managed to find their way. I connected with them, trusted them, and turned to them when I knew that the floundering of my marriage was inevitability going to result in failure. I was branching out, I told myself. It was healthy to make friends and not let myself wallow in the fact that I had failed at being a wife. I buckled down and filed for divorce. “Tough on the inside,” I reminded myself. Always. Tough. On. The. Inside.

Failure makes us vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to poor decisions. On New Year’s Eve in Colorado, leaning on the trust of friendship and the influence of alcohol, I was sexually assaulted by the very friend that I had turned to for support during my divorce. He called me “Vanessa.”

God, I hate that name.

I adopted a cat to quell the gathering dejection, violation, betrayal; the over-abundance of feeling everything and nothing at all, and requested an inter-agency job transfer out of state. I landed in Kansas. The divorce was finalized less than four months from the day I married my ex-husband. I was a newly-wed in August and a Divorcee in December. I forced myself forward and turned over a new page in January of that following year. ToughOnTheInsideGodDammit.

All the world is dark, and I've looked as far as I can see…

This time, I did not seek out friends outside of my job. I kept my relationships professional. I was more willing to hang out with someone from the office in a neutral setting, but would stay home elsewise. I stopped responding to the name “Vanessa” entirely.

Loneliness also makes us vulnerable, but in a different way; and that same vulnerability leads us to do one of two things: Cloister ourselves away and never interact with people again, or Muster up enough courage to try new things. I chose Option #2: I joined some dating websites. I met men and women alike, and I began to grow more confident in my skin. I was “Van” again and I liked who I was becoming. I was independent and I wasn’t allowing myself to crumble beneath the weight of everything that I had been through. As my namesake, I was determined to be tough on the inside.

Being strong and independent and courageous led me to J. He didn’t mind that I was imperfect, didn’t balk at my scars or my demons, and didn’t shy away from my past. J had a past of his own, had made mistakes of his own, had a life of lessons learned and adventures had of his own; so it didn’t seem so scary to open myself up again. To be someone more than “V.” He promised the world; a future with deep seated roots, the dream of a home, a family. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him. We married. We vowed to cleave to one another alone, to put each other before ourselves, to love each other unconditionally; to battle the world together. We swore to cherish and adore one another, to build a life together and never take each other for granted.

I try. I try so fucking hard. When I feel ignored, I buckle down and swallow it. When I feel stressed I keep it in to prevent stressing him out more than he claims he already is.

He calls me “Beautiful” and “The Best Thing to Ever Happen to Him,” but follows these hollow words with casual indifference and gentle disregard. He doesn’t abuse me, but he doesn’t cherish me either. He speaks of me with pride when he talks to his family; but does not stand up for or defend me when his Step-Mother disparages me and belittles my actions. “Babe,” he calls me “This is just how she is with everyone. You’re Amazing.” I am supposed to be content with that. I am supposed to be content with sitting in silence, hailed as “amazing,” or “beautiful,” or “the best.” Hollow words echo in silence. Distort. Sound false. Do not bear weight in their worthlessness.

I realize that I don’t even know the last time he has called me by name and meant it…Maybe it was the day we got married. Maybe it was the day he proposed. Maybe it was our second date...

I try harder. When I feel neglected I go out of my way to do things for him that would please him; I cook his favorite meals, I wear alluring lingerie, I clean the entire house and make sure that he doesn’t have to lift a finger after work. When all else fails I reach out to his best friend to ask for advice on what I can do to make things easier, better, for my husband. I set aside my own embarrassment at having to ask for insight from someone else, instead of getting the answers from my own husband’s mouth, as to why he doesn’t seem to want me anymore. “It’s not you, Babe,” he says. It’s difficult to stay tough on the inside when “It’s not you,” echoes hollow and sounds more like “I don’t have a reason.”

When we disagree, he calls me by my full name, tacking on his last name at the end, as if in joking-jest; as if calling me anything other than some form of dead endearment will lend seriousness to his statements. “I promise,” he says. “I love you,” he says. I am not angry that his words hold no meaning or value anymore. I am just angry that I can no longer trust anything he says. I am angry that more often than not there are no words at all, just furious silence.

When I die, just let me be…

I am angry that I have allowed myself to become this nameless, hopeless, loveless thing. I am not even “V,” at this point. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

The wife I have become is a meaningless thing. What communication can be had between a wife who tries best to express her feelings and desires to a husband who reacts with anger and frustration when faced with the truth? What future can be had when a husband will not be intimate with his wife? What value do a husband’s words have when each promise is broken, when there is no follow-through on simple tasks of keeping a home, fostering a relationship, or growing a friendship?

“Nessa” and “Vanessa-Anne” in equal measures, had been emotionally bruised by the divorce of her parents; learning early in life that sometimes letting go is the best option. “Vanessa” was poisoned by the realization that your name means nothing to those who take one look at you and refuse to learn who you truly are on the inside. Both “Van” and “’Ness” learned the fragile existence of friendship, and the aching stab of loneliness that comes after you open your heart to a select few only to grow apart from them for no other reason than life gets in the way. “Van” was sullied by the painful growth out of adolescence and the realization that love just isn’t enough. “V” was grown in cynicism, the desperate child of PTSD and depression, and knew the devastation and loss that comes with refusing to make bonds with other human beings.

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, just let me go…

So who am I now? I’m not even sure the wolves would know.

Daylight is waiting for you…

_________________________

“Who Am I?” by Vann Fenrirs Volchitsa, Author

“Wolves” by Down Like Silver, Lyrics

[hotsexydorks]

Sheriff breeding up his slut boy/s/ (Stiles, Scott or Derek or all of them, that’s up to you) and filling them up with his cum so their belly(ies) and become his “pregnant” slut(s)/boy(s)/wife(wives). Maybe even collecting his cum in a thermos to keep it warm for his slut boy(s) can keep drinking and filling themselves up when he’s not around. (It’s up to you if you want to have the sheriff’s partner/s/ underage or use a/b/o verse for the large amount of cum sheriff needs)

I went with a fae type creature and a magic coin. This one is a lot longer than usual so I’m linking the chapter at the beginning cause sometimes it’s not the easiest to read here. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053365/chapters/66380512

Daddy’s Boys : Sheriff/Scott/Stiles/Derek

John didn’t know what was happening anymore. This whole thing was out of hand. He never expected one little thought would have exploded into this. But it wasn’t just one little thought; it was one idea, one dirty secret, and one magically charged artefact. Together they made the perfect, or rather the wild formula for a life altering experience. 

~~~

It all started one night in the middle of John’s late night shift. He was on patrol driving around. There had been reports of unidentified people walking the streets at night that could have spelt something more sinister if it had been left alone. 

Usually the deputies had the job of patrolling but on this particular night John had felt cooped up. He needed to get out of the station and drive around, back on the pavement and looking around. If he was being honest John had been having a hard time of it lately. 

Not only had it been difficult raising Stiles on his own, being a single father, but it was made all the worse when he found out the cause of Stiles’ hijinks and latest troubles. Wolves. Magic. Hunters. Supernatural things, all stuff that belonged in the fantasy story and games he used to buy for him. 

Learning it was all real and that it was very much in his town was a shock to John but the more he knew the more things around town started to make sense. People appearing out of nowhere, people disappearing, accidents and incidents that were previously unexplained all started to somehow make sense. 

Even though he was aware of the world around him the more John knew about it the more confusing it seemed. Everything was on its head, nothing stayed the same for very long. Whenever he thought he had the grasp of all the things that were going on they changed and he was left even more confused than before.

But part of him was still relieved to know that all of this wasn’t the case of a bad work force, just some bad forces in play. Forces that now had their sights set on a little mischief. 

Driving around the roads and streets were practically empty. There weren't many people out, some joggers, a few people finishing their night shift but there was someone out that caught John’s attention. Down the road his attention was grabbed by the bright white of plastic bags either side of a small figure. 

Pulling up to the person John rolled down the window to the car finding an old lady carrying her groceries. 

“Excuse me ma'am.” Peering his head out he wasn’t sure where she was heading since there didn’t seem to be a house on this stretch. “Would you like a ride to where you’re heading? Those bags look heavy and it looks like an awful long way to walk somewhere.”  

The old lady looked at John for a moment before a small smile grew on her face. “Why thank you child, that would be delightful.” She said accepting his offer. 

Stepping out of the car John fixed the door open and went to help the lady with her stuff. Securing her and her belongings in the back seat he closed the door and set off once they were ready. 

“My house is just a straight line from here.” She piped up before John had the chance to ask her where they were going. 

“You got it.” He said smiling. As he drove down the road he glanced back at the old lady who was staring out the window. “You know, there have been a few calls about suspicious people out and about lately. So you should try doing your shopping before it gets dark.” John said as a forewarning, he couldn’t say there were monsters that roamed the town so you should lock your doors but this was the next best thing. 

“Thank you child, but that won’t be an issue. My grandchildren usually do the shopping but they weren’t able to today. Oh that’s my house right there.” She said abruptly as a house came into view. Pointing at it through the window she singled out an old house standing alone on the side of the road. 

“That one right there.” She confirmed as John pulled the car up to the side walk. Helping her out he helped load the bags up the stairs to the porch. Turning on his heel he was about to bid her farewell when she stopped him. 

“I don’t have much to thank you but.. I have this lucky coin I’ve had since I was a child. I got it as a little girl and I’ve held on to it ever since. I want you to have it. “ Reaching into her purse she produced a small copper plated coin. Shiny and well tended to. 

“There’s no need -- “ John began to protest in vain, the woman already pushing the coin into his hand. 

“No, no. I insist. It’s a token of gratitude from me to you. For helping an old woman. I hope it blesses you as much as it has for me.” She smiled and picked up her bags as she left the man alone on the porch. 

Shaking his head with a smile John could add this to one of the weirdest ‘Thank You’ gifts he had ever gotten. Giving the coin a quick look over John pocketed it and went on his way. From the car he glanced back up as he drove away looking back at the house with the rear view mirror but he didn’t see the old lady, she had probably just gone inside. 

His night patrol hadn’t turned up anything out of the ordinary but he was at least grateful for that. It meant that it wouldn’t be too much of a busy night for the rest of the force. 

Taking the car home John undid the top button of his shirt as soon as he pulled into his driveway. The lights were off in the house but the two cars by the house told him all he needed to know. 

Scott was over which meant one of two things, that either they were gone out or they were asleep upstairs after hanging out. 

When John went into the dark house he got his answer. With food in the kitchen and a note on the table John knew that the boys were upstairs sleeping. At least that’s what he assumed for being so late in the night. 

Without checking the older man grabbed himself a drink of scotch on the rocks. What Stiles didn’t know about his drinking wouldn’t hurt him. After all it was just one drink, John had much bigger secrets under his belt than just his occasional drink. Like his sexuality for example. 

His own Bisexuality hadn’t been a secret in his marriage; it was actually something they had both been open and receptive to since the beginning of their relationship. Claudia was aware of his attraction and his previous experiences that he had had with men before they got together. However as John’s career and the attention paid to him grew it became less of an open topic and one that soon became a shared secret between John and his late wife. 

With being the only one that knew of his own attraction John continued to keep the information private, not even telling Stiles about it. Which made all of Stiles’ attempts of trying to pass off as gay during times of trouble all the more ironic already knowing that his son took after him.  Of course that wasn’t something he divulged to his son but that’s what made the secret all the more entertaining to him. 

As John continued making his way through the house he went through various stages of undressing. With a head start on the buttons meant that his shirt was the first to go. Opening the shirt fully left his white t-shirt underneath on display. Following his shirt then came the belt. 

Unbuckling his belt and letting it loosen on his waist the cold metal and jingled with each step he took through the quiet dark house. It wasn’t long before he found himself in his study room downstairs, leaning back in his comfortable chair at his desk John folded his head back. Stretching out his neck and following it with a deep sigh of relief from being off of his feet and able to relax. 

His calloused work hands ran across his face. His fingers reached to the inner corners of his eyes wiping away any tiredness before running down his neck and resting on his chest. The back of the chair moved and hinged as John leaned against him. Supporting his body while he leaned back the chair shifted with the slightest of noises. 

Reaching out with a hand the Sheriff picked up his cooled drink and sipped at it again. His free hand drifted downward as he stared off into the darkness he was sitting in. Sinking lower John found himself resting his right hand over his crotch. Cupping his own flattened bulge the man reached further in and began freeing himself from his underwear prison. 

Pulling his soft member and drooping balls away from his body John could feel the overwhelming freedom. Being a public figure John had learned that a large bulge only drew attention, the wrong type of attention for his job. Something John had learned from the beginning of his time on the force when his bulge garnered him a lot of attention from the holding cells. 

Finally free John couldn’t stop how his hand squeezed at his soft length. Touching himself with his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the feeling of his hand on his cock. It had been so long since he had even thought about pleasuring himself that his body was taking the rare opportunity. With a drink in hand, a relaxing man, and a quiet house, his body was taking any chance that it was given to remind him that he was a man that enjoyed his own body.

He was a man that was craving the touch of another man. The smell, the roughness, the bond. John had always thought that it felt different and right now it was what he wanted. Sinking back in his chair he closed his eyes, his hand taking more and more of his growing cock. Stroking himself and feeling his own heat grow. This was now far beyond just fixing himself it was about getting his fix. 

John didn’t want anything loving and slow right now, all he wanted was a hole to fill. A fat ass with round cheeks. Something tight and hot around his cock. Throughout all his sexual life John had never been one watching porn. Of course he had dipped into that world from time to time but John was more of a man of his own imagination, and right now that imagination of his was picturing a round fat ass bouncing on his cock .

The fleeting feeling of pleasure soon became more of a want and a need. The picture in his mind grew until it was more of a mental scene. Seeing a bent over male pushing back and working his lower half over the older man’s cock. The other’s body was fit and tight, accentuated by the curve of the round ass. As John found himself falling deeper and deeper into the illusion the stronger and more clearer the image became. 

The ass that he was now picturing over his cock going back and forth on his shaft started to become less and less like an illusion. “Fuck..Wish I had an ass like that on my cock right now.” He whispered to himself. It felt so right and there wasn’t anything to stop him. But then something changed.

Scott. It was Scott’s ass that he was imagining over him. But now he was too far lost to stop. He let out a deep moan, indulging himself more in the fantasy. The other’s body formed more solidly until he began actively thinking about the younger male. It was true that John had always cared for the boy, but even he couldn’t deny that the way he had grown and filled out was anything but delightful to see. Coupled with his own inante blindness to his bodies’  own form made his charm and body an attractive combination. 

Sheriff Stilinski would have been lying if he had said he never had looked at Scott that way. Even if it were just a passing glance he had to admit himself that it was an amazing looking ass. An ass that just happened to be attached to one Scott McCall. 

A Scott McCall that wasn’t in his head but actually bouncing up and down in his lap. Ass pushed out with an arched back while the wolf had his own moans spilling from his mouth. 

“Scott?” John managed to croak out while watching the tight hole swallow his fat cock with ease. From the lack of shine on his cock he surmised that it hadn’t been all that long since this started but still he was more confused as to how it started at all in the first place. 

“Hey Sheriff. I didn’t hear you come in earlier.” Scott glanced back over his shoulder, his body continuing to bounce gleefully on the other’s bare cock as if it weren’t anything strange. 

“Never mind that Scott. What are you doing !?” The man had put away his drink and now reached out taking a hold of Scott’s hips in his hands. Holding them while he tried to push the other off but when he tried he found that not even that went to plan. 

Instead of lifting off of the man’s cock Scott leaned forward, putting his body over the desk he held his ass on the cock. Hole fluttering and teasing the thick hot cock. 

“Me? I’m welcoming you back home. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Scott asked as he batted the older man’s hands away. Pushing them aside he had his range of motion back. Hinging at his hips he started to bounce once again on the other’s cock with a small smile. 

John should have stopped it, he should have stopped it before it even happened but he couldn’t. Mesmerised by the way Scott’s cheeks jiggled over his cock he was stunned. Hands reached out again but this time instead of going to stop him John grasped the other’s cheeks and gave them a firm squeeze. 

“Fuck, wish I could have this ass ready on my dick every time after work.” John mused out loud in passing. With another wish leaving John’s lips Scott felt a jolt of pleasure that made the wolf drool and drone lowly. 

With a goofy smile and more powerful movements Scott threw his head back. His voice spiking every now and then from how good it felt. Bouncing harshly he smiled back at the man. “I’ll be there for Daddy whenever you want.” 

John’s cock twitched at Scott's play. He growled deeply and surged forward. Pushing Scott over the table he started to fuck the wolf’s fat ass. Slapping his heavy full balls with each thrust. Every single one was just as powerful as the first.

Getting wetter and messier the two started to sweat as John continued to grind and pound away at Scott’s ass. He was long past fighting it and was now enjoying it for all that this was worth. 

“You like that baby? You like Daddy pounding that fat ass?” 

“Yess! Fuck me Daddy”

John wasn’t one to disappoint his public. Taking his new hole through the works he fucked Scott all around his office. In his chair, over his desk, on the floor, against the door. They fucked all through the night until the morning. Never stopping for more than a sip of water. 

Working out years of pent up sexual energy John was huffing and sweating over Scott’s body each time. It was after the first time he filled Scott’s ass up with cum did another wish leave his lips. 

“Wish I had the energy and cum to fuck you nonstop.” Off handedly, he chuckled thinking nothing of it. That was until he felt his cock harden again and his body surge with energy once more as if they hadn’t been fucking for the last thirty minutes. After that the rest of the night was history.  

As the sun broke through the lower windows the two men untangled their bodies. Both of them were damp with sweat. The only difference was Scott also had a hole full of cum. Pumped full Scott’s stomach pushed out slightly from how much the man had filled him up. 

Looking down at his pushed out stomach he rubbed it and smiled back up at the older man. “Thanks Daddy.” He said giddily as he leaned forward and pressed a quick peck on the man’s lips before he disappeared with a bounce in his step. 

“Fuck.. what is happening…” He whispered to himself as he got up from the floor where he had just bred Scott for the last time of the night. Looking around he could still picture their bodies fucking around the room and he scratched his head as he wondered how he was going to explain this to his son. 

Before that though he needed to figure out what was happening. John pulled back on his pants, having taken them off after breeding Scott the first time they lay under his desk undisturbed. Leaving the fly open he leaned back and focused his thoughts. Trying to pinpoint anything that might help, wishing for a lead his hands stopped halfway through his face. 

Wish. John bit his lip and looked down at his empty tumblr.  “I wish for a drink.” He said. Watching in amazement he watched with eagle eyes as the tumblr filled back up again. Rummaging through his pockets John pulled out the coin he had gotten from the old lady. Pulling it out just in time to see a faint shine of the metal he held it up admiring the sheen. 

“Fuck…” The Sheriff knew he had two choices right now. Tell Deaton and ask for help or continue with his own wishes. A cold pang filled his chest as he twirled the coin in between his fingers. 

After that first night with Scott, when John was making his decision he wasted no time in putting together a plan to expand his collection of boys. Never in his life had John ever felt this powerful and he wasn’t about to give it up. He wanted more, he was going to have more. 

With Scott under his belt John waited to see how things would fold out. Surprisingly nothing had seemed to change. When they were around other people Scott acted like he always did. Still as goofy and bubbly as ever. But when they were alone it was as if a switch was flicked and a part of Scott reminded him that John was his Daddy. 

He kept fucking Scott any time they were alone, taking the opportunity until he finally worked out how to use this new ‘power’. Any wish John made came true as long as he had the coin on his person. Once he knew that the coin never left his hold. Fashioned into a charm on a chain John had fitted the coin into a special container so that he could have it on his person at all times. 

At first he had apprehensions about using making a wish upon Stiles but that all began to dissolve as soon as he made his first wish. After that it was like a snowball gaining momentum and mass as it rolled down a white mountain side.

He started with an innocent enough wish. A command that would make Stiles leave John and Scott alone in peace until he heard the command to return again. It had taken a few tries and tweaks to make it where Stiles wasn’t just zoned out in his room. John had perfected it to where when Stiles left them alone he would still act as normal but would avoid returning back to the area that he had left. 

Using this John started to fuck around with Scott a lot more, not just in the house anymore either. After they had fucked in every single room at least 5 times, including Stiles’ room, John began to broaden his horizons. In the car when he picked up Scott from school, in the McCall house, in the woods, and even in the school once after a match. 

But even as he was spending almost every evening pumping Scott’s ass full of cum and breeding him round something gnawed at him. A little feeling that bloomed after he made more wishes about Stiles. 

One night John decided he had fought that feeling long enough and with no Scott to be found at the house tonight Stiles was now his target.

“I wish Stiles was a good boy, like Scott.” It was a simple and broad statement but somehow the power in the coin always knew what he meant. Standing under the door frame into the kitchen John watched on as he saw a faint shiver travel up Stiles’ spine. 

Stiles had been in the kitchen getting a study snack, but that thought quickly left his head when he saw his Daddy standing at the other end of the kitchen. “Daddy!” He said happily running up to the man and leaning up to kiss his cheek. 

“Can I help you with anything Daddy?” He asked the man. 

Stiles was like a fresh slate for John but he could see the twinkle in his eye, or rather in his lips that invited him to do dirty things to them. 

“Yes you can baby.” He said grinning from ear to ear. 

From that point every moment that wasn’t filled with Stiles’ homework or John’s job was spent filling Stiles’ mouth. Of course he didn’t only just use Stiles mouth but from his time spent fucking his son his mouth was defintly the star of the two holes. It must have had something to do with how much he ran it or how he was always fidgeting with it trying to get something in it. 

Day or night whenever John called for a hot mouth his son responded. That was unless Scott wasn’t already there.

Something John hadn’t foreseen was how parts of his wish began to modify themselves as his list grew longer. 

Before he had touched Stiles, nothing about the two boy’s changed when they were alone. But now it was somewhere in the middle, mixed between their normal selves and being John’s boys. Sure enough when John was out of the picture they were still acting normal, like they weren’t regularly getting railed by the Sheriff. 

With his son now enthralled to him it wasn’t long before their one on one sessions got a little bigger, and soon Scott and Stiles’ weekly sleepovers turned into something more like a weekly fuck rodeo. Where John’s cock was the bull and they tried to compete for who could spend the most time riding it. A competition that he was all too happy to facilitate and judge. Only instead of strict empirical time John determined the winner as the one that held the most cum inside them. 

With bloated bellies and dripping holes John’s boys never had it in them to argue when John declared the winner. Partially because they never cared who won, all they wanted was to be full with cum and Daddy never disappointed them. 

Many a night was spent with John laying back and having his cock worshiped, dumping in load after load, like a never ending stream of thick cum flowing from his cock. And both boys not wanting to waste their Daddy’s seed licked up the heavy scent greedily.

It was a while after that before John made a third move. Once again the need and desire for more started to swell in him and he wasted no time in putting his plan together. Instead of keeping it more secretive he started to set his sights further wanting more and more. Something in him not feeling satisfied with just the two boy’s he already had. He wanted more and he knew just where he was going to go looking for it. 

~~~

“Daddy?” A voice called out to him but that wasn’t enough to pull him from his thoughts. John had long been lost to them. 

“Daddy??” The voice called out louder this time. But even that wasn’t enough. Still staring blankly at the ceiling John was laying on his back his fingers turning the coin that hung around his neck. 

“DADDY?” Finally the sound reached John’s clouded thoughts. The sound of three voices proving to be enough to capture his attention. 

Looking down John stopped twirling the coin. “Sorry what were you saying?” Down between his legs were three mouths that were licking and rubbing all over his wet shaft. On his left was Scott, laying down on his stomach, his mouth moving back on John’s cock. 

To his right lay his own son, Stiles. Doing the same motion as Scott but in an opposite direction. And finally between his legs lay his latest addition. Mouthing all over his balls and the underside of his cock a beard tickled and rubbed against him, oh so nicely, Derek. 

“You were telling us who you were young to choose next.” Stiles said, taking his mouth off of his father’s cock for a moment only to remind him of what they had been talking about before he spaced out.

John reached out and thanked Stiles with a pat on his head, stroking his fingers through his short hair.  “That’s right son. I was just thinking who should be next to have Daddy’s attention.” He said smiling at him softly. 

“But first. I think it’s time for your new brother to get his first breeding from Daddy. “ John grinned. Down below at his cock the three mouths moved. Scott and Stiles pouted but that was quickly replaced with a grin when they all saw Derek’s reaction.

Usually scowled and frowning the bearded face was now soft. His cheeks were red in shyness, that same red passed up his beard creeping towards his wide eyes that were blown out. Massive green discs shining at him giving away all that Derek was too shy to say. That he was ready and he was needy, far needier than people would ever thought he would be. 

Wide eyed and needy he spoke softly the tips of his two front teeth poking out somehow making him even more attractive. 

“Please Daddy.. I.. I need it..” Looking up at the man from below the thick cock that rested on his face. Beard tickling and teasing his balls as he spoke. 

John smiled as the other two boys moved away stroking their stretched bellies full of cum. They leaned back , sitting on their feet as they knelt and licked their lips watching their new brother’s first time. 

“Come here baby. Daddy will treat you good.” John said patting his lap , showing Derek where he was about to sit. 

Without another word Derek climbed up the older man’s body. Crawling on all fours he spread his legs and straddled the Sheriff’s hips. Sitting down he could feel the heat of the thick length sliding between his cheeks. Slick from the time the three of them had spent preening over him with their mouths it caught against his hairy hole for a moment brushing against him ever so gently. That one moment was enough for Derek to let down his guard for a moment. 

Moaning loudly he arched his back trying to chase that feeling again. From just a brief touch alone was enough to have Derek’s body on fire. Aching for more. Pleasure took him over and made his mind spin and his thoughts leave his body. 

Nearly falling over the hairy wolf had to be caught by his new Daddy. Raising his hands John supported Derek’s muscled body by his large pecs. Squeezing them in good favour while he smiled up at his new boy already the neediest of the three. 

Just turned but already so desperate after just a little touch. That was all John needed to know that he had made the right decision in his new addition to his family. Unlike his other two slutty sons this son was a man and his body reflected that. Already glistening in sweat the slick skin managed to shine through the dark hair rugged over his body. 

Derek was all man all over but now matter how much he looked like it the wolf would now always be a perfect slutty boy for his Daddy. 

“Daddy’s got you.” He smiled. 

Reaching down Derek’s body his eyes followed while his hand ran down the muscular specimen of a man that he had managed to obtain. Each finger tip trailed down his body, following all the dips, curves, and every muscle line that he could feel. Each and every sensation almost like fire over his body. Warming him from within and spreading over his body. Going lower with each step the hands took down his body. 

Already leaking and begging for release Derek let out a while when he felt the hands glide over his hips. Drawing a line from his adonis belt around his side before they darted then down the small of his back. Dragging slowly over his cheeks they grew stronger as they took hold of his meaty cheeks. Spreading them and bringing his cock back into position ready to go where it belonged John stayed grinning up at his boy. 

“Please Daddy… I need it.. Please… “ Derek started to beg, whining needily and practically gasping for the other’s cock. His body begging alone with him. Pushing back with a winking hole he was already trying to grip at the man’s hard cock that he had been worshiping all day. 

“Please Daddy ple--- ooooOO” 

Derek hadn’t finished his last round of begging before his voice broke in a loud moan. His lips forming an O with his as his mouth fell open in pleasure. Mind clouding pleasure that made the wolf shudder and drool. Spreading his hole it felt like his body was being bared open. A warmth rushed through him like it was engulfing his body bit by bit. Turning him into a new man. A new wolf. Stripping away at the hard shell he had built and leaving the soft boy melting in the palm of John’s hand. 

The further John pushed in the more Derek felt like his soul was being bared raw. Exposed and vulnerable to his Daddy. 

“Put your arms behind your head baby. Daddy’s going to start moving now.” John grinned as he watched heavy sweaty arms move. Lifting up they exposed his underarms and flexed his muscles, biceps mounding perfectly. 

Once John was happy with it he reached down and began something that shocked Derek to his core. From just the first thrust his body shook. Trembling with pleasure he cried out. Gasping as his cock shot a mess of cum all around them. 

Smiling widely John let out a laugh as he started to pound at Derek’s hole. His cock thoroughly worked at the tightness. Repeatedly slamming as he deflowered Derek’s virgin hole for good. 

“D-DADDyyy!” Derek whined loudly. Straining his neck he had his eyes wide open, his pupils blown out in pleasure from John’s cock. Nothing had ever felt like this and he knew he wanted it forever. Choking on his pleasure he tried to keep himself upright as he was taken on the ride of his life. 

“That’s it baby. Let Daddy all the way in.” After John started to move his hips and Derek came there was some resistance. Squeezing down on each shot of cum Derek’s body started to block him from going balls deep with each stroke. As Derek rode each wave that pressure became more workable, eventually letting John slap Derek’s perfect ass with his heavy balls waiting to load his new son up for the first time.  

Derek lasted as long as he could while John made quick work of his ass. Showing him what he was meant to do, what he meant to be. His entire body swayed back and forth while he tried his best to stay up right. His eyes had closed, fluttering and shaking as he could feel the pressure never ending. Pleasure eternal like his body was being given everything it needed all at once until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Collapsing forward Derek fell forward. Hitting against John’s chest he arched his back. Pushing his ass out asking for more. While he might not have been able to actually say it his body took care of that for him. His body vibrated with intensity that had the wolf drooling over the man’s body. 

Grabbing Derek’s ass with his hands John started to fuck Derek with more force. “If you’re going to be such a good boy for me, Daddy won’t be able to hold back.” He said grinning from ear to ear. His cock never stopping, all of his body fucking Derek with his strength he could muster. 

John’s own body had begun to sweat, drops rolling down his forehead as he licked his lips and strained his body under the weight of Derek’s body on top of him. “Going to breed you into Daddy’s perfect slutty son.” He grunted over and over between his words while his own body started to stutter. 

Gripping Derek a little tighter and closer, he shut his eyes, throwing his head back as his mouth fell open. Both he and Derek were moaning loudly, it was threatening to spill out from the house. His balls pulsed with life as he filled up Derek’s ass with cum. 

Pumping him deep and full, John's lay back steadily holding on to Derek as the two shared their first intimate moment. Derek giggled under the other’s arms, his body warm and his smell comforting even as he felt his stomach grow and round off with cum just like his brothers. Growing until his hard abs softened slightly. 

Since Derek only had one load in him he wasn’t as round as his two other boys but there was plenty of time for that. 

Grinning in delight, his two other sons came back. Jumping on his bed they began to kiss and make out with father and brother alike. A pile of tangled limbs as they settled up and teased the two.

“Daddy that looked so good.” Scott said smiling as he looked at Derek’s ass with jealousy. “Can I go next?” 

John chuckled as he felt his strength come back to him. “Now, now Scott. That’s unfair don’t you think? You and Stiles already had your fun.” He said reaching down to Scott’s chin, lifting his head from where he was looking at Derek’s ass. “Besides this is Derek’s first night with us. Don’t you remember how much fun your first night with Daddy was? Let’s give Derek a taste of that.” 

The older man looked down at Derek. Turning his attention back to the dark haired male while his cock started to twitch to life again . “Ready for round two baby?” John asked with a smirk after his cock had already started to move. 

And that’s how they spent the rest of the night with Derek attached to John’s cock at his ass and Scott and Stiles at their sides licking and kissing them trying to get in on the fun. Their first night together with the three boys and their Daddy. Filling up Derek again and again until he reached the others’ level of round belly full of cum.

~~~

There were many nights like this all over again, eventually it had grown into a ritual for them all. But something that was still new was John having to keep a thermos of his cum fresh every day for his boys so they wouldn’t get too hungry while he was at work. 

“Boys. Behave while I’m gone.” John said as he picked up his jacket . Taking it over his shoulder he leaned in and gave each one of them a deep kiss one after the other. He was only going away for the weekend but it would be the first time that they had been apart since becoming one big family. 

“I’ve left a thermos on the counter for each of you, and they’re labeled. So Stiles that means you can’t mix it up and steal someone else's” John chided the other, reminding him of the time John grounded Stiles to his room after he stole Scott’s flask and to make up for it John spent that night and the next day pampering the distraught boy. 

“Now, make sure you don’t mess the place up too much while I go on my business trip, and if you do Daddy might bring you back a surprise.” He grinned as he fiddled with the coin on his neck when there was a knock on the door. 

“Morning Deputy.” John opened it up with a grin. “Right on time, are you ready to go?” 

“Yes Sheriff. I’ve packed everything you asked for.” He replied, moving to the car again. 

“Please Jordan. This may be a business trip but I told you, it’ll be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other. I can’t have my newest Deputy not on the same wavelength as me,after all you’re meant to be my right hand man.” John teased the other with a chuckle. 

“Uh Yes.. John.” Parrish said shyly before hoping in the car.

John turned back to give his boys a last farewell and wink, the coin glinting in the morning light as he ducked into the car. Ready for his weekend alongside his new deputy.

~~~

More prompts here ...https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053365/navigate

[thewritewolf]

Just Between Us

Set just after the events of Four Times (and the Lucky One), Adrien tries to subtly reveal his identity to Marinette. Unfortunately, obliviousness seems to be contagious...

Reading Four Times isn't necessary, but encouraged. All you need to know is Adrien knows Marinette is Ladybug.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.

There were plenty of opportunities to come…

Unfortunately, Marinette was proving just as oblivious as he had been for so, so long. Maybe the universe wasn’t quite done testing him yet, but Adrien couldn't find it in himself to be frustrated. It was almost like a game at this point as he got more and more daring with his hints.

It had started out small, of course…

------

“Hey, Mari,” Adrien said with a smile as he bounded up the steps of the school. He could feel his hair, now messy and free like his alter-ego’s, bouncing along with him.

“Hey, you-” Marinette paused as she turned toward him, her smile flickering for a moment as her eyes drifted to his hair. Her head tilted and she wore a mask of bemusement. “...Trying something different with your hair?”

“Ah, so you did notice.” He held her close and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. Calling on his Chat Noir charm, he gave her a playful wink. “You see, I’m trying to impress this girl I like…”

“Well I think you’re going to do just fine. I hear she is already head over heels for you.” She tugged his hand as she guided him into the building. Pausing at the lockers, she gently ruffled his hair to make it even messier. “All jokes aside, I like it. The look suits you.”

“...Does it remind you of anyone?” He might be pushing his luck her but…

She snorted. “Yeah - it looks like you had a team of stylists recreate what bedhead must be like for the common folk.”

He gasped in mock offense and while they settled into a familiar banter, he grumbled on the inside. At least he could try again next time.

---------

...But small acts wouldn’t be enough to overcome the magic of the miraculous, would they?

If he was going to succeed, he’d need to be even more daring, even bolder. Something that could tie him to the miraculous, but only because she knew him so well in and out of the mask. For his next attempt, he’d have to play up the cool, badass energy of Chat Noir while still being Adrien. He had just the idea to get Marinette’s attention…

-------

A few days later, Marinette was minding her own business on one of the last days of school before the winter break. As was happening more frequently, the cold had woken her up despite her attempts to cocoon herself in a blanket burrito. Even now, inside the warm school building, there was a chill that had settled into her very bones. She resigned herself to being miserably cold all day, at least until she could get to her space heater in her room. Maybe she could convince Adrien to come over for some snuggling?

As if summoned by her thinking about him, a bright mop of blonde hair pulled her attention up, but after seeing what he was wearing, she was unable to get more than a syllable into her greeting. The rest was lost in a strangled choking sound.

The first word that managed to get through was Leather, followed swiftly by Hot. When she managed coherent thought again, she belatedly realized that Adrien looked good in black leather jackets and… well-fitted black jeans. The fact that no fashion designer had realized this was a tragedy to all humankind. Hell, he could give her partner a run for his money.

...She wondered if Chat Noir would be willing to part with his miraculous for just a little bit. Just to see what Adrien would look like in magical, skin-tight leather.

“Uh… girl?”

Alya’s voice snapped her out of her daydreams. “Hm?”

“Here, you’re going to need this.” Alya passed her a pencil.

Marinette was about to decline before she realized that she was still clutching the snapped remains of her favorite drawing utensil. She pouted at the back of Adrien’s head, eyes narrowing as a plan came to mind. There was a way she could get back at him for this little surprise.

--------

...Of course, Adrien wasn’t the only one who could turn on the charm. He’d thought that he’d had the advantage there, being a model and all. But after what Marinette wore the following day, he was pretty sure she should have been one posing for the camera. Then again, he was more than happy that he got her all to himself.

Even if he couldn’t think straight for the entire rest of that day.

Things got a little desperate, but truth be told…

-------

“So you’ve met Chat Noir, right?”

“I mean, yeah, sure,” Marinette said, as noncommittal as could be. “Most of our class has, you realize.”

Adrien waved that off with a dismissive shake of his hand. “Yeah, yeah, but you two have… met a lot, right?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “And where did you hear that, huh?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did Alya put you up to this?”

“No no! I was just-”

A little gasp escaped her. “Adrien… are you jealous?”

The situation was ridiculous, so clearly he laughed. But that wasn’t the right answer, apparently, since Marinette stormed off. It took some apologizing and hugs, but her mood passed and they were back to normal before too long.

------

...Tact was never his strong suit.

In the end, he was left with only one option. It was one that he hadn’t been looking forward too, but not because of any sense of lost romance, or even misguided fear that she would be angry. They were too far along in their relationship to be worried about that.

No, it was the taunting and griping and ‘I-told-you-so’s from Plagg that he’d been dreading. Adrien took the needling and mocking like a champ, though, and before long his kwami was finally willing to transform him.

After all, even Plagg (especially Plagg) wanted to finally finish this.

Which is why Adrien now found himself on top of Marinette’s balcony, steeling himself for what he was about to do. It had been a while since he’d been here as Chat Noir - after slowly reducing the frequency of his visits, they’d sort of petered out after he and Marinette had gotten together. As much as he wanted to spend every moment possible with her, he couldn’t trust himself not to get comfortable with her and he didn’t want to make her feel like she was cheating.

But now?

He tapped at the glass, unsurprised when he saw her bright blue eyes peering up at him. It was late, sure - but he knew his lady well, knew that when she had a project in mind, she would see it through no matter what. Even at the cost of sleep and eating.

Stunned as she was by his sudden appearance, seemed to let unlock the skylight and let him in through muscle memory alone. She also let in a wave of cold air that raised goosebumps on her skin and sent shivers down her spine.

They’re sitting on her bed, like they often did before he found out. The same place where he found himself slowly falling for his everyday Ladybug, until suddenly his everyday Ladybug and his Ladybug became one and the same. The silence stretched for a few moments, Adrien lost in the memories of falling for the same person twice.

“Chat-”

His attention snapped back into focus. “Marinette. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Chat can this wait until-”

“I know you’re Ladybug.”

Again, silence. But what had been a soft, companionable quiet before was now charged. Tense. Electric.

There were a few false starts, half-formed questions dying on her lips. Eventually she settled with, “How did you…?”

“A few months ago, there was an akuma. I… I was worried about you. And I know that was dumb since it was nowhere near you but… I was still worried. So I came over to make sure you were alright and… well…” He shrugged helplessly. “It’s Tikki, right?”

“Huh?”

“Your kwami. Her name is Tikki?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah…” Her eyes became distant for a moment before hardening. “Chat,” she said with a chastising tone, “why did you wait so long to tell me? This was pretty important information!”

His ears flattened against his head and his tail wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry. I was worried you’d be upset that I found out. But, in my defense, I have been dropping hints these last few weeks…”

Her stern expression softened and she put a hand to his cheek, “Oh, kitty. You annoy me to pieces sometimes, but I can’t be mad at you over an accident. Especially because it only happened because you were worried about me.” She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. “Wait… hints? I don’t remember any hints in the last few akuma battles.”

He wrung his hands, wishing he’d just dropped his transformation the moment he got here. Now it was too late and he needed to wait for her to ask him to reveal himself. It was only right, after all.

“That’s… that’s because I haven’t been giving you hints as Chat Noir. I’ve been giving them as… me.”

“We know each other?!” She screeched, before throwing her hands over her mouth. They listened in a pregnant silence, waiting for the sounds of either Tom or Sabine to come marching up the stairs. When they failed to materialize, they breathed a sigh of relief.

“We know each other? In our civilian identities?!” She whisper-screamed at him.

He was sure his blush was peeking out from behind his mask as he nodded, thinking of their last make out session. If that didn’t qualify as knowing someone…

She turned away from him and began patting the pillows. “Tikki? Tikki! Can we just drop his transformation now? He already knows who I am! Why can’t I find out about him?”

A kwami in Ladybug’s colors appeared at his girlfriend’s shoulder. She had a thoughtful expression as she looked first into space and then deep into Adrien’s eyes. With a sigh, she replied, “We may as well. The damage is already done, and the imbalance of power could throw you two out of sync.”

Marinette did her best to have a cool and confident exterior, but it was clear she was struggling while she was out of the spots. She waved at Adrien. “W-well. Go ahead. Let’s see… see who you really are.”

“Alright, just…” He had a sudden surge of fear. “Don’t be mad, okay?” He took a deep breath. “Plagg, claws in.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling incredibly exposed without his mask to hide behind. It took him a few moments to gather the courage to look her in the eye. He couldn’t read the emotion there, and all he could tell was that the curiosity from before had been replaced by something else entirely. The silence stretched out and he itched to break it. Just as he was about to, she finally spoke, her voice a whisper.

“It was you all along…” The reverence in her tone faded as her eyes narrowed. “Wait, how long ago did you say you started trying to ask me out?”

“I know what you’re thinking but-”

“Adrien,” she began, clearly putting on a brave face, “tell me the truth - did you start flirting with me just because you knew I was Ladybug?”

“No.” The speed of his reply seemed to catch her unaware. She was still on the back foot when he leaned forward into her space and took her hand in his. “Sure, that’s what made me start, but that was only because I wasn’t torn about who I wanted to pursue anymore. The two most wonderful women in my life… were actually the same person all along.” He planted a kiss to the back of her hand, looking deep into her eyes as he did so.

Unlike when they were in the masks, this time he’d coaxed a fierce blush from her. Maybe it was because it was something he’d only ever done as Chat Noir to Ladybug. He could see the gears turning in her head. Which was why he was surprised when she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her lips to his.

He smiles against her and pulls back enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“No. These are disciplinary kisses. Do not take joy from them.”

“Too late.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and kissed his nose. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t you mean, im-purr-ssible?”

She tilted her head back to groan at the ceiling, then buried her face in his chest, still groaning. “I can’t believe I thought you were cool once.”

“Of course I’m not cool.” He paused for effect, then pulled her close while grinning down at her. “I’m hot.”

“Not to interrupt your grossness or anything, but…” Plagg chimed in from his spot curled up with Tikki. “We could visit whenever now. And you two could do some… nocturnal stuff.”

Marinette’s face went completely red and her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. She squeaked out, “Plagg!”

But Adrien’s mind was flush with possibilities. “That’s an awesome idea, Plagg! We could have movie nights and sleepovers and-”

He was silenced when Marinette put her hands on his cheeks and squished his face. “You are… way too energetic at midnight, kitty.” She pouted in thought. “But a movie night doesn’t sound too bad.”

A few minutes later and they’d built a cuddle nest of pillows around themselves. Marinette’s bed was smaller than his, but that just made it easier to fill with warmth as she rested her head against his chest and the kwamis curled up just above his head.

As the credits rolled on their second movie, Adrien yawned and stretched. As much as he wanted to stay, he’d better go home. A plan which was immediately thwarted by Marinette clamping down on him.

“Bugaboo…”

“It’s too cold out there,” she said in a voice muffled by his shirt. “You’ll get sick. In fact,” she raised her head to peer at a point on the pillow behind him, “I think Plagg already caught something.”

He heard Plagg say, “Wuh? Oh, um… cough cough. Sneeze. Yeah, real sick. You better listen to her, young man. Kwami’s orders.”

“...You literally just said cough and sneeze. You didn’t actually-” He shook his head. “Actually, you know what? You’re right. Plagg’s sick. Can’t go home. I’ll have to spend the night here.”

He settled back into place as Marinette sighed against him.

“Good kitty.”

[barbarasbae]

Even in Hawkins

Part one 

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (for now)                                                            Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader mentioned

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Omegaverse things (read:lots of smut), peeping tom-ing, voyerism, underage drinking, underage alcoholism mentioned, masturbation (male), 18+ 

Be cautious young readers

AU Note: in my omegaverse for this series, omegas get heats instead of periods no matter if they are male or female and because of this they come with the same variety. Some heats might be heavier or lighter, some people get them once a month, every three months or even only a few times a year. Male omegas heats are usually much less frequent than their female counterparts and also have more difficulty becoming pregnant. It is almost impossible for an omega to get another omega pregnant

Omegaverse Series!! I’m excited 

original photo posted by @stevebyers  (this photo was a huge inspiration for this series. very soft) 

Steve was a little fragile to say the least. His girlfriend had left him for another beta, his college essay was a disaster and Steve had even fought monsters that he still had nightmares about over a year later. Then this ass of an alpha rolls into town and beats the shit out of him. But of all those crappy things, at least he had Y/n. She was another omega that Steve had gotten close with and was one of the only omegas who hadn’t thrown herself at every alpha that was in Hawkins. She invited him to go shopping with her, a new omega owned store opening in the mall about forty minutes from Hawkins. He said sure, because on the days the kids weren’t getting him into crazy situations and with the lack of a girlfriend to follow around, Steve didn’t have much going on. 

The store was mostly clothes, but there was also a variety of other omega-centric products. 

There were scent enhancers and suppressants, ‘boyfriend scents’, whatever the hell that meant. Steve later found out it was just a generic alpha scent in a perfume bottle. There was also slick proof clothes, mostly of the underwear and lingerie kind for heats. Steve got some slick proof boxers,  sick of throwing away so many pairs of boxers every few months. “You would look cute in this.” It was a crop top. “I don’t think so.” He said, blushing. “Okay.” She shrugged, putting it back. They both left with a decent amount of clothes in their bags, Steve buying a sweater they were both practically drooling over it was so soft. “Do you mind if we go in here for a sec?” She shrugged, the two walking into the Radio Shack and were met with an overwhelming scent of alpha. “Here, give me your bag.” Y/n told steve, knowing that male omegas were more likely to be harrassed. He slipped his free hand into hers, pretending to be an alpha. Thankfully, it worked, their stop uneventful, with maybe the exception of the typical ogling they received. “Are we going to that party on Friday?” He asked as he opened the door (you become fairly close with someone when they’re the only friend you have that knows what it’s like to have the same secondary gender as you).   

“Sure. I don’t have a test on Monday for once. How’d you do on that test on Wednesday?”

“Not good, but better.” 

“Steve, I really think you should get a tutor. Help your mind refocus.” She had been there last year when all the crazy shit started to go down, even more than Steve had. He pouted, her nudging him with a smile. They got to his car, Steve drumming his fingers on his thighs before looking over to Y/n, whose eyes were on his lips. The kisses were feverish; needy. She held his waist, his hands tangled in her hair as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He pulled away, panting, her palming his bulge through his pants. He rocked up against her palm, lips on hers yet again when a blue Camaro pulled into the spot next to them. He gasped, pushing her off of him and turning his car on. She was a little hurt at the sudden rejection. “Steve?” She asked softly, confused. He backed out of his parking spot way too fast, tearing out of the parking lot. As he whipped into the main drag, she felt panic rise in her chest. “Steve slow down. Slow down!” She shrieked, Steve slamming on the brakes as the light turned red. He was breathing hard. “Steve, Honey, are you okay?” She asked softly, reaching over and grabbing his wrist, rubbing gentle circles on the scent glands there. She saw the tears in his eyes. “Was that him? The alpha that beat you up?” He nodded tightly, whimpering. “Oh sweetheart.” She cooed soothingly, Steve driving towards her house now at a much more normal speed. She held his hand as he drove, rubbing his knuckles gently. He parked, Y/n leaning over and hugging him. He sniffled, no longer crying. “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Steve spent the day babysitting and worrying about his grades, his basketball coach taking him to the side and telling him he wouldn’t be allowed to stay on the team if his grades got any lower. Max and Lucas were fighting again and Steve couldn’t even keep track of what they were fighting about anymore. Needless to say, he could use a drink. He pulled up to the house of one of the guys on the football team, seeing Y/n standing with a few of her other friends. Despite it being winter, Y/n was wearing a dress. Steve came up to her from behind chirping a greeting. “Hey, Steve!” She cheered, happy he was finally here. “Wanna go dance and get wasted?” 

“You know I do!” She teased, the two unfortunately developing a bit of a drinking habit after dealing with the upside-down a second time in a year. Steve found the punch that was more like alcohol with a little juice in it and handed her a cup, both downing two refills before moving to join the dancing bodies. Y/n and Steve were giggly, more bouncing than really dancing for a good hour until a slower song came on. They swayed together, her fingers hooked into one of his belt loops, not wanting to lose him. He settled his hands on her waist pulling her closer, their chests almost touching. “Wanna get another drink?” He asked softly, brushing the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers. She nodded, Steve leading her back over to the kitchen, the pair grabbing beers instead of spiked punch this time. “You’re eyes are so pretty, Steve.” Y/n complimented as they wandered back into the tightly packed drunk teenage dancers. “Thanks.” He was blushing. Steve let out a breath of relief as a faster paced song suddenly roared into the room, his thoughts having wandered to Nancy and wondering why she didn’t love him. He looked down at the other omega, her back to his chest. “You wanna go upstairs?” She asked, tilting her head up to look at him. He nodded, the two giggling and stumbling up the stairs, poking around until they found an empty bedroom, too drunk to remember to fully shut the door as they started to pull on clothes, desperate kisses burning into their skin. 

Billy was bored. Hawkins was cold and it barely had twenty omegas his age. In California, not only was he used to a multitude of omega classmates to choose from, there was also plenty of tourists to help him get his fill. In Hawkins, there were so few omegas that he had hit on someone’s mom on accident. Ugh.Pushing the thought aside, Billy took another sip of his drink. He was feeling a little buzzed, having found the rum someone had used to spike the punch. He wasn’t really into the beta that was hanging off of him, chattering his ear off. Her intention to get him into bed was very clear, her neckline getting lower every few moments. He decided he’d had enough, pulling away from her and going to look for a bathroom or something, wanting to jack off so he didn’t give into her once he was drunk (he had a feeling he’d be getting calls about why he didn’t call her back or why he didn’t stay after he had slept with her). The bathroom downstairs was occupied by a petite beta girl puking her guts out, unable to handle her alcohol, her boyfriend (he assumed) attempting to help her. He stomped up the stairs, a smell hitting his nose that was too enticing to not look for the source. He followed it to a bedroom in the back of the hall, the door not shut. He pushed it opened a little more, giving him a full view of something he wasn’t expecting. 

Now back home, it was still pretty rare but Billy was floored that a place like Hawkins would have an exclusively omega couple. The male was pretty, long limbs and brown hair. His cheeks were dusted pink, letting out a moan that went straight to Billy’s knot. Billy couldn’t really place what was familiar about him in the moment, and he didn’t care to. The female omega was straddling his hips, riding him. She was adorable even if he could mostly only see her back, her moans absolutely disastrous. He saw the clothes they abandoned on the floor, the male omega twisting a finger into the fabric of female’s panties that had simply been pushed aside for him to enter her. Billy palmed himself, her grabbing the other omegas hand, interlocking their fingers with a soft whine. Billy took a step back and looked around the hall. No one was there and he could bet if someone came up the stairs they’d be too drunk to care about what he was doing. He peered a little farther into the room, pulling himself out of his jeans, rubbing his thumb harshly over his tip as he heard a groan come from the male omega. 

He used his precum as lube and slowly pumped his fist over his length, hearing a feminine ‘oh fuck’. Her hips rocked a little faster, long fingers of the male omega gripping her hips as he tried to give her some guidance. Billy wondered if she only rode omegas like that or if she would be just as enthusiastic with an alpha. “Shit.” He whispered, hips bucking to meet his fist, a coil of pleasure sitting in his pelvis, getting tighter, his hand getting faster. He braced himself on the door frame, trying not to knock into the open door and give himself away. “Cum in me!” She pleaded, the male’s hips lifting to meet hers. “S-Steve!” Oh Fuck. Billy’s hand stopped, forcing his eyes to concentrate harder at what was happening in front of him. Definitely Harrington. Her head tilted back a little, her hands on Steve’s chest now. He pulled her on top of his chest, more pumping into her than her riding him, Billy dangerously moving into the room a little more to see their faces. She slipped a hand in between them, finding her clit, forehead dropping onto Steve’s shoulder. Billy noted that Steve was loud, even if he wasn’t verbal. Lots of grunts and moans fell from the brunet’s lips. She nudged at Steve’s scent glands that were on his neck, Billy not able to tell what she did but it made Steve squeak. Cute. 

Steve was getting sloppy, unable to pick a pace. He reached up and grabbed at her neck, rubbing on her scent glands, getting a mewl out of her that made Billy bite back a groan. Then Steve moved her head, Billy seeing him ‘mark’ her (mocking an alpha’s claim mark), the girl coming. “Steve!” She gasped, bucking against the pale brunet’s hips. Billy’s pumped harshly over himself, praying the growl that bubbling up in his throat wouldn’t give him away. He hissed softly, tugging a little too harsh on accident. He squeezed his eyes shut and mini prayer running through his mind not to cum yet. “Fuck, Y/n.” Steve groaned rather loudly, gripping her thighs harshly and coming. Billy dropped his cock like he’d burned his hand, his hips having jolted forward, about to cum. He watched long enough to see the two omegas rub noses and pulled the door shut as quietly as he could. He then shoved himself in his jeans and ran to the nearest bathroom, slamming it shut behind him. He pumped over himself furiously, abs flexing as he finally came in the open toilet, Billy letting out an unashamed growl. Panting, he flushed and tucked himself back into his jeans. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, skin pink all the way down to his chest. From getting to watch two omegas (one of which was Steve fucking Harrington) sleep together. “Fuck.” 

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Give Me Your Hand || Billie Dean Howard

|| In this one shot Billie Dean and the reader are recently married, (almost a year) and the reader is pregnant with their first baby. This is the first time they feel the baby kick, btw the reader's name will be Arianna.||

Billie

"Babe!! Come here!!"  My wife's voice rang throughout the first floor of our house. I quickly put my cigarette out and before getting up an straightening out my skirt.

"Here I come love!" I walked out of the den and through the house until I made it to the stairs. I quickly walked up the stairs and into our bedroom immediately seeing her sit on the edge of the bed.

Her round stomach slightly protruding from beneath her shirt made a small smile form on my lips as I walked over to her.

"Yes Cherub?" I questioned softly as I sat down beside her. I leaned over placing a quick kiss on her lips once  she turned to face me before softly smiling at her once again.

"My mom wants to know what flavor of cake to get for the gender reveal and I can't pick it by myself." She wore a small pout of frustration on her lips which melted my heart.

"Don't stress baby, just tell her to get half and half since the gender isn't going to be in the cake." I remarked in a soothing voice to ease some of her stress. I saw her take a deep breath before nodding and sending her mother a text.

" Are you ready to go to lunch?" I asked softly as I stood up from the bed and stood in front of her. I slowly took her phone out of her hand so her attention would be on me. I smiled innocently at her as she looked up at me with a playfully anger expression.

"Mmm I guess so. Where are we going today?" She reached down beside her to grab her shoes so I took a step back to give her some  space.

"It's your turn to pick. But no fast food."

"So we can't go get pizza?" She looked up at me pouting while giving me puppy eyes. She batted her long eyelashes before slightly sulking when she realized I wasn't budging.

"Not today Cherub. Maybe for dinner."

"Fair enough." She reached down to finish putting her shoes on but she quickly sat back up with a gasp.

I looked at her concerned as she peered down at her stomach with wide eyes. She lifted up her shirt and placed her hand on her stomach causing me to look at her in confusion.

"What are you -"

"Give me your hand."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I gave her my hand with my palm up. She grabbed my wrist and placed my hand on the side of her belly where hers once was. I waited for a second before feeling a slight thump at my hand. I gasped and instantly covered my mouth with my free hand as tears slightly welled in my eyes.

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness, hi my little love bug!" I instantly knelled down in front of Arianna and placed both of my hands on her stomach as the baby began kicking again.

"Hi baby! It's your mommies!" Another kick was felt underneath my palms causing me to laugh in excitement but Ari slightly grimaced in discomfort.

"Okay okay chill out in there. That was my bladder!" She playfully scolded the child in her stomach causing me to laugh joyfully.

"Okay take it easy on mama. I don't need her using the bathroom on herself... again."

"Billie!! You said you wouldn't bring that up again! It was an accident!" She whined in annoyance causing me to laugh once again.

"Well next time listen to me when I tell you to use the bathroom before we leave the house." I teased before standing up straight and speaking again.

"Well this calls for a bit of a celebration. You still want pizza for lunch cherub?"

"Yes! Cheese pizza and bread sticks please."

"Go ahead and order it, we'll stay in today."

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word count: 676

||This was very random and very trash. It's currently 3:30am for me and I got this idea earlier but procrastinated until like 45 minutes ago. There will be a part 2 for the gender reveal , hopefully that on is better.||